Chapter VI

CHAPTER VI. ENTER THE LAW SCHOOL AT ALBANY


I am afraid I felt opulent, for I danced attendance upon Miss Carter at Rye Beach for a week or more, almost forgetting that if I was ever to become a lawyer, I had no time to lose. At last I shook myself clear of this enthrallment, reached Springfield, and then Albany, entered the Law School, sitting down to hard study of musty Law books under Judge Harris' kindly interest and direction. I was officially entered as a Law student in the office of Reynolds, Cochrane & Harris, the latter, Hamilton Harris, a brother of the judge. During the course at the Law school, a branch of the University of the State of New York - I attended the lectures every day, butted in on all occasions in most of the Moot Courts, wrote a number of Theses upon subjects given out, in respect to which I knew nothing, or cribbed from books, involving, of course, necessary study, attended trials of any importance in the several courts, listened to arguments of Counsel before the Court of Appeals, particularly those of the eminent lawyers of the day, Mr. Evarts, Nicholas Hill, Mr. Curtis. In attending trials of cases in which our firm was engaged, I took notes of evidence, etc., looked up witnesses, appeared in minor trials in the Justices Courts, hunted up authorities, did clerical work, ran errands, and in every possible way, tried my level best to be useful. After nine months of this arduous, if not remunerative labor, I presented myself for examination, filed my thesis upon the subject of The Admiralty Jurisdiction of Federal Courts, which I hope is not recorded against me, and was admitted as a full-fledged Attorney and Counsellor-at-Law, my commission being signed by George Gould, Josiah Sutherland, Henry Hogeboone, Justices of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, on the 25th day of May, 1859, and attested by R. Babcock, clerk of the Supreme Court, under its seal. This consummation was indeed pretty rapid work.

The Law regulating the appointments of Attorneys and Counsellors-at-Law permitted any graduate of the Law School of the University, who should pass the written and oral examination prescribed, to be so commissioned. There were few other requirements. All I can say is, that the Law was complied with and I "hung out my shingle" and drummed for practice within one year after I abandoned the Quarter deck of a man-of-war, and again commenced the task of earning my own living.

Amongst my classmates at the Law School were several young men who have attained high rank in the profession, both at the bar and as Judges. Judge Peckham of the United States Supreme Court, and Judge Hand amongst them.

During my probationary studies and work I indulged in little recreation, amusements or social life, although owing to a large family connection in Albany, the inducements for such indulgence were great, and I kept slightly in touch with them.

My mother's youngest sister, Virginia, had married Mr. Samuel H. Ransom, the senior of the well-known firm of S.H. Ransom & Co., large stove founders, an industry then centered in Albany. With a large family of children, my cousins, they lived at No. 6 Elk Street, one of the row of houses, called "Quality Row." My mother's younger brother, Joseph P. Sanford, formerly of the Navy, had married Lydia Ransom, a sister of Samuel H. and was then a member of the firm of Rathbone & Co., also stove founders. Both Samuel and Lydia Ransom were nephew and niece of Joel Rathbone, a wealthy retired merchant. Between the Ransom and Rathbone families with their multitudinous branches, all wealthy and prominent, I did not lack for acquaintances, friendships and interest, and from all I received the most cordial welcome and active interest in my professional life, as well as constant hospitality and introduction into the best social life of the city.

My shingle out, at the entrance of the building, No. 51 North Pearl Street, and my name emblazoned on the door of my office, I waited for victims. Soon I was approached by Mr. Harmon Pumpelly, a very rich real estate owner, with the proposal that his son-in-law, J. Meredith Read, Jr., and I should form a partnership, he insinuating that he would place much business in our way.

Read had been one of my classmates in the Law school; we were rather intimate socially, and I had been one of his groomsmen. I concluded it would be an advantageous arrangement, and the great law firm of Read & Barnes was formed, lasting about one year only, as I soon found that Read, like poor DeLong's famous Eskimo dog, drew a fine discrimination between hunting a live bear and helping to drag a dead one home; in other words, he took his share of the fees, but did not care for the work of our office.

However, we had a most agreeable association. He was punctilious in all social obligations, dawdled in literature and politics, gentlemanly always, even to extreme turvy dropism, and our intercourse up to the time of his death was of the most pleasant kind.

He organized a company of "Wide Awakes" during the political campaign, marched the streets clad with a leather cape, and armed with a great torch, and became so much of importance during the Lincoln campaign, that Governor Morgan appointed him on his staff as Adjutant-General of the State Militia, whence his title so amusingly displayed in all his correspondence with the Royal families of Europe - "Le General Read." He wrote or compiled a book: "A Historical Inquiry concerning Henry Hudson, etc," upon the strength of which he procured his membership to every Historical Society on the face of the earth. He secured his appointment as Minister to Greece, wrote an absurd article on the discovery of the lost arms of the Venus of Milo. He claimed great personal intimacy with all the crowned heads of Europe, particularly with King George of Greece, invited the Queen of England, the Prince of Wales to his entertainments, and only abandoned his post as Minister when the salary and position was ignored by Congress. He was, however, appointed Secretary of Legation at Paris when Mr. Washburne was our Minister during the Commune, and contributed thrilling accounts of his adventures. Finally he took up his residence permanently in Paris, entertained hospitably in handsome apartments, Rue ____,   -where I dined with him in 1891 -- always the same gentlemanly, quiet, self-important individual, with great claims of distinguished ancestry, amongst others, Joseph Reed, the Father of the American Navy, a life size full length portrait of whom with that legend inscribed upon it, adorned his wall in Paris, and which he endeavored to present to the Louvre or Luxembourg Galleries, but the authorities would have none of it. Read was a character for a novel. There never was a man built on his mould before nor since, but with it all he was kind, generous and always and upon all occasions a gentleman without the slightest aptitude for any serious occupation.

The war of the Rebellion coming on, his position as Adjutant-General became something more than picturesque, and the duties something more serious than attending to its social requirements in gorgeous uniforms - he was compelled to resign it. I have been thus prolix about Read because in many ways he attracted public attention during his life and much amusing comment.

During our partnership considerable business fell into our hands, which I am happy to say was conducted in the main successfully to the satisfaction of our clients and to the profit of our purse, so that at the end of the year I was again on my own hook, owed no man a penny, had a small bank account, and as much business as I could reasonably expect or give attention to. I had conducted three or four suits at law before the Supreme Court of some importance, argued one case on appeal - all successfully - had been appointed Referee in some litigations, guardian ad litem for minors in partition suits, mixed myself up a little in politics, particularly when my friend and patron, Judge Harris was running for the United States Senate, made speeches, attended political meetings, and making myself known, was in full tide of a successful career in my new profession, with hardly a back thought of the Navy, when Mr. Lincoln was elected President of the United States and war and rumors of war burst upon the country, and changed most abruptly the course of my life.

During my life in Albany, apart from my business, I had contracted many intimate friendships outside of my family connections, particularly after my position was assured. From Mrs. Crane's boarding house, corner of North Pearl & Columbia Streets - highly respectable and inexpensive - I had in company with Edward Hill, son of Nicholas Hill, - and a partner in the law firm of Hill, Cagger & Porter - and Howard Carroll, rented a house on Hawk Street, where we started housekeeping on our own account. Both Hill and Carroll were killed in battles during the war. Hill, a captain in the regular army was killed at Malvern Hills, and Carroll, at the battle of Antietam. We employed an elderly colored woman and her daughter as housekeeper, cook and chambermaid, and a young fellow as valet and man-of-all work. Carroll, a fine looking man, an Irishman, graduate of the Dublin University, and then a civil engineer on the New York Central Railroad, attended to the finances. We dined out frequently, all of us mixing freely in the social entertainments of the city.

I had some sporting tendencies, and with Dexter Reynolds and John Rathbone, made frequent trips West after grouse and in the vicinity for woodcock, partridges, snipe and quail, with invariable good luck. Upon one of these excursions with General Rathbone to Lenox, Massachusetts, where he rented and occupied the cottage known as "The Perch" from Fanny Kemble Butler - we, together, shot in one day  twenty-eight woodcock, a bird now almost extinct in that region. This, my first visit to the Berkshire Hills, the scenery so impressed itself on my mind, that later I bought the property adjoining Mr. Rathbone's estate, and built the place now owned by me called "Coldbrooke," where I have passed the summers for thirty years.

           "There is a destiny that shapes our ends
             Rough hew them as we may."

Perhaps those little long-billed birds, victims to our guns, on that one day's shooting, were the cause of my residence amongst those beautiful hills.  Also, on a trip with Dexter Reynolds, to the then distant and sparsely settled prairies of Illinois, in the neighborhood of Logansport where we camped out in the log cabin of a settler, we were held over at Cleveland with our dogs and met there in the little tavern, Jack and Dan Casement, who insisted upon our taking a day with them after snipe and woodcock.

Later again when the Secretary of the Government Commissioned General Warren, Mr. Blinkensdoffer and my father, for the inspection of the Union Pacific Railway, I met the Casement Brothers contractors, at end of track at Deep Run, laying the astounding amount of seven miles daily of iron rails in the race with the Central Pacific for a point of juncture which was finally made at Ogden.

In 1860 I was commissioned a First Lieutenant of the National Guard of New York. Mr. Frederick Townsend had organized the Albany Zouave Corps, became its Captain and I its First Lieutenant. Here my old Naval Academy training came into play. I drilled the men, established rules, becoming very much of a soldier in my fez cap and baggy breeches, modeled after Ellsworth Zouaves, which were exhibiting themselves all over the country in their fanciful costume and machine like drill.

Of course I would often run over to Springfield for a Sunday's visit to my parents; during one of the visits I again met Miss Susan B. Hayes, a meeting which again set me to thinking of what might be.

My mother's sisters and their families were then all settled in Springfield. My cousin, Julia Clarke, had married Abel Chapin, son of the richest man in Western Massachusetts, Chester W. Chapin. And her sister, Mary Clarke, had married William Harding, the son of Chester Harding, the celebrated portrait painter. My aunt Irene Emmerson, had also remarried to Dr. C.C. Chaffee, and her daughter, Henrietta Emmerson, the real owner of Dred Scott, passed her time alternately with her mother and our Aunt Virginia in Albany - with whom I was constantly in company. She was a beautiful girl, much sought after by various suitors; was engaged for a time to Edward Corning, son of Erastus Corning, but for good reasons the engagement was broken off on the eve of her marriage, and soon after she married J. Howard King of Albany. As this period of my life was perhaps the happiest part of it, I dwell upon it somewhat tediously to others. I was young, strong, contented, wholly independent in means, surrounded by good friends, without a care in the world, an agreeable occupation, full of ambitions for the future, received everywhere and regarded as a likely young chap sure to make his way.

The Navy had become a tradition, although I kept up a desultory correspondence with some of my old Naval friends, watching with momentary interest the movements of ships as contained in the newspapers, the occasional departure for the Beyond of old Naval acquaintances, I became as entirely separated in thought and feeling from the service as though I had been a private citizen all my life. A return to it never entered into my mind as amongst the possibilities, although there must have been some sort of a salty flavor left in my bearing and conversation, a kind of a Quarter deck mannerism, which I am told still clings to me. As a boy, I had learned to strum upon the piano and twang a guitar in accompaniment to ditties which amused my hearers. I had been one of the boy choir at Annapolis, and during my service at sea had picked up a lot of Sailors' songs, which I could roar out with some effect into the uncultivated ears of audiences. One of them, "The Battle of the Baltic," was my "Chef d'oeuvre," and rarely was I at a social gathering of intimate friends, but I was called upon to administer a dose of this famous song to uncritical hearers, pounding out my own accompaniment on the piano. Mrs. Townsend, one of the intimate friends and near neighbor of my Aunt's, had considerable musical talent and improvised a rattling composition based upon my very irregular rendering of the music, whereupon in response to encores, many a time, in tones from falsetto to deep base, I would shout myself hoarse, over the brave hearts, who died on the deck of fame by the stormy Elsinore. I think my reputation as a sailor was chiefly owing to Campbell's grand poem - which, by the way - I had picked up by ear, as it was sung by a British Lieutenant at a dinner given to the ward room officers of the H.B.M. Line of battleship 'Immortal' at Colon. Although not much of a dancer, like most Naval officers, I had learned to skip about to music with considerable agility, if not grace. Balls and dancing parties were frequent, and as young dancing men were rather scarce in Albany, my talents in this direction were in requisition, giving me plenty of exercise.

Speaking of exercise, I joined a gymnasium, where for an hour or two I lifted weights, swung dumb bells, skinned the cat, boxed and otherwise distorted my frame and joints. I held the championship for heavy weight lifting, raising from the floor with the lifting machine upwards of 700 lbs. In the attempt to beat the record I strained the muscles of my back, keeled over, was cared for by Dr. S. Oakey Vanderpoel, laid up in ordinary for a week or more, and have ever since, all my life - suffered from lumbago at intervals. This put a stopper on my gymnastic performances. Every town of importance then was provided with gymnasiums. A man named Winship was going about giving exhibitions of strength, lifting 2000 lbs., and physical exercises were the rage.

During the excitement following the nomination of Mr. Lincoln for the Presidency, I had a visit from my old class mate and my most intimate friend at the Naval Academy, Philip Porcher of South Carolina, who was attached to a ship then in New York harbor. He was very despondent and down-in-the-mouth as to the situation, declaring that from the advices he had received from his family in Charleston, he was positively sure that his State would secede from the Union, if Mr. Lincoln should be elected, and that he would be compelled to leave the United States Navy, to which he was devotedly attached. I remember my saying to him jocosely, "Well, Phil, if you do, I will have to take your place and go back to it!," never dreaming that such tremendous events as were breeding, would come to such results. The next and last time I saw poor Phil was on a flag of truce boat, off the harbor of Charleston, while I was on the "Wabash" blockading that port, we looked at and nodded to each other, but did not speak. Soon after, on a blockade runner, he perished with all hands on his boat in a gale off Bermuda. I have a portrait of him in my collection, a daguerreotype of him and his room mate, Graham, who died from Yellow Fever on ship-board in 1858. Porcher was really one of the loveliest, gentlest, dearest fellows I ever knew.

Saratoga Springs in those days, was the resort not only of those seeking benefit from its waters, but in the season the scene of gaiety and pleasure. Its proximity to Albany made it an easy and inexpensive trip, so that I was occasionally invited to, and attended the grand balls given at the United States Hotel where Albany lady friends were visitors. At one of them, seated in the great dancing hall, rather winded from exertion, with Miss Forsythe by whose invitation I had come there, she ejaculated: "Oh, Mr. Barnes, do look at that beautiful woman!" and who should I see but Miss Fanny Carter, of Rye Beach memory, entering the ball room on the arm of her father. I named her at once and immediately joined her, she receiving me with manifest pleasure, and on her father's surrendering her to my care, we promenaded the room, joining in the waltz, landing her by the side of Miss Forsythe, to whom I introduced her. Her beauty and graceful dancing had attracted attention; she was absolutely unknown, was for the first time at Saratoga, coming there with her father who sought the benefit of the waters. I introduced a number of young men to her, and she became unconsciously the belle of the evening. She was certainly the most beautiful, and with her charming manners, the most attractive young woman, with many cultivated talents.

Amongst the men who sought an introduction was Peter Lorillard Ronalds, a homely, rather awkward man, reputed of large wealth, as one of the Lorillard heirs - who attached himself to her train, followed her to Bellows Falls and to her Boston home, and a few weeks later I received a letter from Miss Fanny, informing me of her engagement to him, and asking me to "say nice things about her" to Mr. Ronalds' guardian and trustee, Mr. Augustus Conklin, then a member of the legislature at Albany, who did call upon me, having been told by his ward that I knew the Carter family and could tell him all about them. Of course I spoke of her in terms of admiration.

As Mrs. Ronalds has, for many years, occupied very brilliant social positions, first in New York, and later abroad, always prominent for her great beauty and manifold attractions, as well as for a very romantic career, and such intimacies with sovereigns, princes and titled gentry as to fill many pages of comment, I relate here my very trifling connection with this remarkable woman; today, it is said, one of the intimate personal friends of the Queen of England - not connected by duty with her official household - and the leader at the age of nearly seventy years, of one of the most fashionable circles of London.

She visited Lenox a year ago - still beautiful and charming. I was ill and did not meet her, but she met my son, and on learning his relationship, remarked that she hoped to see me, and told him that his father "was a nice boy."

Throughout the Lincoln campaign I was as ardent a Republican as any, and in my small way at Albany, worked as hard for his election as I knew how to do. At the same time my law business was increasing in amount and importance. Amongst my friends and one of my classmates at the Law school, a fellow student in the Law office of Reynolds, Cochrane & Harris, was Henry Rathbone, a stepson of Judge Harris. On the election of the Judge to the Senatorship, Rathbone had succeeded to some of the business of the Judge, and it had been arranged that at a proper time, Rathbone and I should join partnership, and with the Senator as Counsel, conduct our law business together. This arrangement was never perfected, as the impending troubles put a most decided end to the consideration of all plans for the future. It is impossible and it would be useless to go into any particular description of the situation of affairs at Albany during the summer and fall of 1860. The city had a large democratic strength. There were assemblages in streets and halls, resulting almost in riots, and frequently in fights and threats, in the violent discussions of hot-headed patriots and copperheads, which became intensified after the election of Mr. Lincoln in November, 1860. Naturally, I became more or less mixed up in these side shows, and became personally interested in the development of the war spirit all over the land. States seceded one after the other; Naval and Army officers followed suit, joining their several States and the Southern cause; the bombardment of Fort Sumter occurred and the War was on. Enlistments of volunteers under the first call progressed, and as First Lieutenant of the Albany Zouave Corps, Captain Frederick Townsend having succeeded my former partner Read as Adjutant General, I fell into the command of the Corps, and my first regular duty was to receive and conduct to a camping ground, established where the Park now is, the train loads of volunteers from 'up State' which poured into the rendezvous at Lanby - a pretty tough lot of roistering young men they were, who acted as though going on a picnic. We crowded them together in heaps as they dismounted from the trains, surrounded them in groups and marched them, singing, shouting and straggling to the camp, many escaping to the sidewalks, drinking in the saloons, and notwithstanding our efforts, doing pretty much as they pleased, but always bent upon having a good time - their officers as well as the rank and file . At the camp, consisting of tents placed without much regard to military order, they were under the guard of some companies of the State Militia, but there was little or no attempt to maintain discipline, although under the orders of General Rathbone, assisted by some army officers, the organizations of the recruits into companies and battalions went forward with good results.

By the 1st of January, 1861, I made up my mind that the Military service was not for me, and that if I was to take an active part in the forthcoming unpleasantness, the Navy was the more appropriate place for me. Indeed, it was a simple impossibility for any man who had been in the Naval or Military service, particularly graduates of West Point or Annapolis, to remain aloof and not offer his services to the Government in its time of need. The boys would have thrown mud at him on the streets, besides I was thoroughly alive to the consequences of a disruption of the Union, enraged at the attitude of the South, and bound to do my little endeavor to force them to return to their allegiance to the old and now glorified flag. During the month of January, 1861, I composed an eloquent address to the Secretary of the Navy, setting forth my opinions, relating my previous services, and offering my valuable aid to the Government in the suppression of the wicked rebellion, in case it had need of them. I did not retain, or if I did it is lost to history, a copy of my patriotic proffer, but the reply of the Secretary will be found in my personal records, and was rather a cooling sedative to the fever. In effect it was that if the Government wanted my services, they would let me know. Such a crowd of Naval officers, including almost without exception everyone who was born in or hailed from a Southern State had "gone South," but it is a remarkable fact that not a single ship of the Navy had been surrendered to the Confederacy, but those on foreign stations had been brought to Northern ports and given up to the existing Government before their Southern officers abandoned the service, which in almost every instance, they did with great reluctance and regret.

Navy men were never politicians, never voters, had no firm location or place, few if any were slave owners. The questions which had disturbed the public mind and created intense feeling, they had no lot or interest in. The glory of and honor to the flag which they had carried to distant seas and lands as the emblem of their nationality was always uppermost in their minds and thoughts, and they hated the idea of warring against it, under colors yet unknown to them, yet the ties of kindred, the natural love of the soil upon which they were born and raised, the importunities of friends at home made it impossible for them to do otherwise than to resign their commissions, eventually to enlist in the common defense of what they came to consider the evasion of their homes and firesides by the Northern hordes. A few sought service abroad; several, as did my old Commander Tilton, preferred to die than fight on either side. A few like Farragut, Upshur, Corbin and others, remained loyal and true, attesting their faith by their works in many a contest.


During the winter of ‘60 and ‘61 the majority of my Zouave company enlisted in the army and my military talent was not greatly needed. I retained my commission, but sought other fields than the Camp ground for recruits, in which to display it. I continued to work out the law cases con-fided to me, but declined to take on new business; indeed, everything not connected with Government business was slack. People forgot to quarrel over their petty affairs, when the greater one was absorbing attention. By April, 1861, I had nearly closed up my law business, the remnants I turned over to Mr. Rathbone, and I determined to go to Washington, see the Secretary of the Navy in person, and demand some sort of employment connected with the Naval Service.

Senator Harris, then in Washington, had taken great interest in the matter, and offered to introduce me to the Secretary, and urge upon him some action in regard to my application, as well as that of my uncle Joseph P. Sanford similarly situated as myself.

At about this time Washington was threatened; the fight with our troops going there through Baltimore took place; General Butler had seized the ferry boat at Perryville and Havre de Grace crossing of the Susquehanna river, and had taken possession of the Naval Academy at Annapolis. Regular communication with Washington was interrupted or broken entirely. General consternation and hurried military operations prevailed all over the country, North and South.

On reaching New York City, where I was met by my brother Will, I called upon Mr. Gould, his father-in-law, who was a member of the Union Defense Committee of the Citizens of New York, who said I was just the man they were looking for to carry despatches to Washington. I jumped at the proposal, was taken to the Committee's rooms, No. 10 Pine Street, introduced to Mr. Prosper M. Wetmore, Secretary of the Committee, who at once appointed me "Dispatch Agent," and before nightfall placed with me despatches to Mr. Lincoln, General Scott, Mr. Seward and others, with orders for their delivery into their hands at Washington. I secreted them about my person, left in the train for Philadelphia, packed myself to Perryville during the following day. All communication South of this place was broken, except by way of Annapolis by vessel. Colonel Dare with a regiment of militia held Perryville, and from him I secured an order to take passage to Annapolis in a steamboat just leaving with troops for that place, where I arrived the following day. My old Alma Mater was in a sad state of disorder. Butler was rampant, strutting about, issuing all sorts of practicable and impracticable orders; the grounds once so neat were strewn with the debris of camps, the barracks filled with soldiers, as were the recitation halls, chapel and buildings. The Midshipmen were corralled on the practice ships. Militia officers, as the men, totally unused to such conditions, seemed to be in a maze of confusion. Some of the dandy Seventh Regiment of New York were wandering about seeking shelter and food, both of which were scarce. I sought General Butler - every one seemed to be seeking him - explained the urgency of my errand, showed him my orders and my despatches, and asked to be forwarded to the Annapolis junction with the Baltimore & Washington Railroad, whence I would work my way to Washington. While talking with him in the recitation hall, where he had established his headquarters, the Seventh Regiment boys addressed him, asking him where they could sleep? His reply was immediate and forcible:

"Damn you sir, sleep where you can; do you take me for a chambermaid!"

A small locomotive had been rescued and put in working order on the little one-horse railway to the junction, and upon this I reached the junction then held by Colonel Carr with a New York regiment. Getting the loan of a horse, as no train service to Washington from Baltimore existed, I got forward to a point on the railway, where meeting a train out of Washington, I finally reached the Capital.

I could mention that my progress was facilitated by the active interest in the object of my journey by T. Bailey Myers, the Acting Adjutant General at Annapolis, the father of Theo Mason of the Navy, with whom this was the commencement of a long and pleasant intimacy and friendship. On reaching Washington, after ablutions and repairing damages due to the incidents of a very rough journey, I hastened to the State Department and delivered my despatches to Secretary Seward, taking his receipt for them, as directed by my orders - fairly glad to be delivered of my task and burden. I had only a few minutes with Mr. Seward, and with his son Frederick, Assistant Secretary of State, both of whom were up to their eyes in a sea of papers. My despatches to Mr. Lincoln and General Scott they undertook to deliver, sending them at once to their addresses.

I thence passed to the Navy Department, and learned that a few days before the outbreak at Baltimore, an appointment as Acting Lieutenant on temporary service had been sent me at Albany, with orders to report for duty as navigating officer of the Steam Frigate "Wabash," then fitting out at the New York Navy Yard. There was no time to lose but I waited a day or two, rested, looked about at the unusual sights in and about Washington, while traffic was being restored between ___________ Baltimore and beyond. I was compelled, however, to go first to Annapolis, where Joe Miller of my class was left in charge of the Naval property there; on my arrival he took me in, fed me and made me at home in his quarters. I found Mr. Abram Hewitt wandering about the grounds, homeless, hungry and not well or strong. Introducing him to Miller, he also looked out for him, I surrendering the cot assigned to me,  sleeping that night on the sofa. He was a friend of my father, a son-in-law of Mr. Peter Cooper, was later Mayor of New York, Member of Congress, always a prominent and influential citizen.

The acquaintance thus made brought about a correspondence later in my life upon the subject of my entering into business in charge of the Trenton Iron Works, controlled by the Cooper interest, which amounted to nothing, but our families have always been intimate.

Communications being re-established, I went to Baltimore, thence via Harrisburg to Philadelphia by the Northern Central Railway, as the direct line by the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore road was so obstructed by trains crowded with troops, munitions of war, provisions, camp outfits, that regular passenger service was abandoned. I think that journey was about the toughest experience I ever had on land. Finding no seat or other accommodation, I got into a freight car, partly loaded with coffins, containing bodies of soldiers who had even then given their lives to the cause in the Baltimore riots, and had been awaiting transportation North. The line was overcrowded with trains, long waits ensued at every side track, the night was hot, the air oppressive and foul, the cars filled with all sorts of rough people, many noisy and drunken, so that as I dozed seated upon a coffin, I wondered if this was War. The thought of that night makes me now fully agree with General Sherman's often quoted sentiments on this subject.

We lumbered along all that blessed night, getting to Philadelphia some time the next day. I was about as used up an individual as can be imagined, and without thought of anything but a bath, a bed and grub - I found all at the hotel - and turned in and slept like a log until the following Sunday morning.
Comments