Will You Remember

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A father wonders why his son and father are such a pair, while he and his father seem like such a mismatch. In an attempt to distract himself from emptiness, a man begins a one-sided love affair at the gym. A son still finds good in a stepfather who had questionable values, but made sure he had decent ones. Tom Waits's music cuts through years of turbulence and strain between a mother and her daughters.

He told me that he could not live without me, and that he would not stop telling me how he felt. And then he disappeared. The realism of a gritty TV program gives a couple joy in their last moments together. A woman with regrets gets a second chance at a husband, home and a baby, in that order.

After being crippled in a car accident, a wife bobs peacefully, looking once again like every other person lolling in the sea. A daughter remembers how trading fathers meant changing not only a parent, but also countries, accents, lives. A daughter gets to know a country and a woman that have always been close to her, but that she never really knew. A woman finds support in strangers after she's diagnosed with breast cancer for a second time.

I had a habit of getting a tattoo after a breakup, believing a tattoo was sexy because everyone could see that you opted for pain. I used the Internet as a means of communication with women I had already met offline in order to overcome my social awkwardness and forge romantic relationships. Owen Powell, a runner-up in the Modern Love college essay contest, writes about his dreams of Natalie Portman, while serving in Iraq.

I was surprised to hear he was a father. I was 28 then and had never dated a guy with a child. Also, he seemed like sort of a kid himself. My husband and I moved to Mexico to break into international reporting, but a bigger decision lay ahead. My therapist dubbed me the Needless Wonder for my doormat ways.

So I decided to take some action. It began and ended with a butcher knife. I had tried to take care of my boyfriends. I never imagined one would take care of me. As the editor of the modern love column, Daniel Jones finds one common thread: Wisdom about love is sorely lacking. How does a child who spends her early life glued to your hip suddenly turn into a person who seems convinced that you were put on earth simply to frustrate her ambitions and dreams?

Peter Napolitano Modern Love essay on how he, year-old unattached gay man, moved back home with his year-old mother after she broke her hip and even shared her bed because she was so afraid of having another fall during night; drawing M. Katherine Friedman Modern Love essay recalls flying to Mexico with her husband on plane that nearly crashed; drawing M. Dena Crosson Modern Love article describes cleaning her house, physically and metaphorically, after her husband left her; drawing M.

Lisa A Phillips Modern Love article on relationship with man with whom she was obsessed; says she could have been described as stalker and is relieved that she has moved on, but is still haunted by feelings of being driven by desire; drawing M. You get obsessively vigilant when you realize having a baby is not just up to you. Wendy Paris Modern Love article relates her feelings about having two miscarriages after having waited until she was almost 40 to begin to think about starting her family; drawing M. Victoria Loustalot Modern Love column recalls her father, who lived most of his life as closeted gay man; he died of AIDS, leaving her and her mother with dilemma of how to dispose of his ashes; drawing M.

A Z Cohn Modern Love essay on being happily married but living in her own apartment in Israel to maintain independence; says when war broke out with Hezbollah, she moved in with her husband and discovered that living together turned out to be as e Francine Maroukian Modern Love essay on her relationship with younger man; drawing M. An Irish boyfriend competes with the tug of letters from my Jewish great-grandmother.

Lauren Fox article on deciding to marry man she loved, a Potestant-raised, atheist Irishman, even though she deeply wanted to marry a Jew in order to honor members of her family lost to Holocaust; drawing M. Lindsay Sterling Modern Love essay on her anger at airport security for confiscating frozen gel packs she needed to preserve breast milk; she was accumulating milk on one business trip in order to have enough to leave infant daughter again for ano Lynne Nugent Modern Love article on her vacillation about having a baby, which her husband would accept, but only to please her; describes how her desire for child sharpened when she saw photograph of her husband as young boy; drawing M.

Suki Kim Modern Love essay on staying in doomed relationship with incompatible man for more than a year; drawing M. Michelle Wildgen Modern Love essay on ignoring early warning signs of her husband's alcoholism; drawing M.

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The storm season tapered off, and with no more tender moments to hold us together, our relationship crumbled. THE first time I said it, I thought it was the best kind of lie: tender and considerate. My boyfriend and I were lounging in bed as a gust of wind from one of those sweeping Midwestern thunderstorms crashed against the flimsy picture window of Kim McLarin Modern Love article on being black woman, once married to white man, who learns she cannot date another white man because he does not grapple with issue of race; drawing M.

An older dad wonders: dentures before baby teeth? Rand Richards Cooper Modern Love article on joy and anxiety of becoming father his mid's with full complement of sports injuries; drawing M. Jennifer Glaser Modern Love essay recalls holding on to physical relationship with her boyfriend as he struggled with fatal leukemia, because sex was antithesis of death M. Abigail Thomas essay, adapted from her book A Three Dog Life, describes changes in her husband and in their relationship after he suffered traumatic brain injury; drawing M. In she walked, a flattering, dirty-blonde asking me for painkillers.

I had been warned: Addicts can be creative, ruthless and even seductive. A J Kim Modern Love article on how, as new nurse practioner, he prescribed painkillers to addicted woman patient who played on his ego and sympathy and was receiving painkillers from a doctor at same time; drawing M. Jamie Callan Modern Love article on marrying someone she first met when he was student in writing class she taught; drawing M. Put "Catholic" and "gay wedding" together, and you get an extravaganza of rituals. Alison Luterman article on wedding of two Catholic men for whom she held the huppah; drawing M.

Theodora Stites Modern Love article discusses how technology dominates her relationships; drawing M. The morning I turned 18, I was told I was going blind. I would give anything to tell you what my wife looks like, but I can't. A real blind love, the literal kind, is a giving over of consciousness. Ryan Knighton Modern Love article on how his blindness has created literal blind love for his wife; says he is able to give over his consciousness and let her see for him; says they share rare and unique closeness; drawing M.

Amy Sutherland Modern Love column on using exotic animal training techniques to modify her husband's behavior; says after two years of training she finds her marraige smoother and her husband easier to love; says her husband got to employ techniqu Sophia Raday Modern Love article on being anti-war pacifist married to police officer and Army reservist who is due to be sent to Iraq; drawing M. In step confessional style, this is what love addiction did to my life: I dropped out of college, quit my job, stopped talking to my family and friends and contemplated suicide. Rachel Yoder Modern Love article describes her journey from partner in unhealthy addictive relationship to path of self-discovery through therapy and nasty break-up; drawing M.

Linda Dackman Modern Love article describes how prayer to Santa Rita, patron saint of desperate or impossible causes, is answered; finds love in Florence, Italy; drawing M. I couldn't let my parents arrange my Indian marriage from Indiana. I would have to find my own suitable boy. Or perhaps even an unsuitable one. Sarita James Modern Love article on her parents' attempts to find her 'suitable boy' to marry who is both Indian and Catholic; drawing M.

I was the girl with a framed photo of Gloria Steinem on her bedroom wall, beside a photo of a young Frank Sinatra. J Courtney Sullivan Modern Love essay on dating and falling in love with man who understands and respects her feminist beliefs; drawing M. The part of me that wanted to die simply crawled off into the woods and never came back.

Katherine Ozment Modern Love essay recalls giving birth to son on cold winter's day in Chicago, and her love for him today, three years later in snowless California M. I have often joked to friends that I married my husband for his sense of direction. And since I met him, the scope of my travels has expanded greatly. Michele Herman Modern Love essay on her husband's unerring sense of direction during their world travels, except for one treasured moment for her when he got lost on highway in New Jersey and turned to her for help; drawing M.

I had come to Bangladesh to try to clean the slate of past relationships. Now I was pursuing the most unlikely possible romance. I'm a stripper with a delectable boyfriend and a rock 'n' roll band. I should be having more sex than anyone. Liv Osthus, sex writer, stripper and musician, describes preliminary interview with producers for reality show that will center around couples therapy; says that sex life with her husband is less prolific than many would think; explores how career The dog and I fell in love, as humans tend to do with their dogs, and we were the ones who became inseparable.

Sheila Kohler Modern Love essay on being cat person who falls in love with dog; notes that she and her second husband got dog to help her bond with her stepsons; drawing M. I'VE had five husbands. Four were mine; one was someone else's. I would not recommend going the borrowed husband route, but I will admit it was interesting.

And instructive. My borrowed husband B. One was a lot Margo Howard Modern Love column discusses her relationship with philandering married man; drawing. I had a cowboy once. It wasn't like Ennis and Jack, more like Roy and Dale. But it was still hard for me to quit him. Ronald K Fried Modern Love column on his and his wife's love for their Greenport, NY, home and their love for neighbor's cat and how they all survived propane explosion and fire that destroyed the house; drawing M.

In that breakup I felt like I lost my husband, best friend, father and brother all at once. Asha Bandele Modern Love Column describes falling in love and marrying convicted murderer while he was still in prison; talks about fears and difficulties she encountered when visiting her husband and why she chose to end marriage after she gave b I think everyone will see things my way if I just explain them properly. So I keep explaining. I keep talking. Catherine Lloyd Burns Modern Love essay on being very different from her husband, who, unlike herself, is capable of solving problems in gradual way, particularly when they involve issues with their infant daughter M.

I liked the idea of being someone's someone else. I didn't like the idea that that someone had a girlfriend. Xeni Fragakis Modern Love column on brief romance she had with man who lives in house he built himself that is 8 feet by 12 feet; drawing M. My daughter was a Beatles fan by the time she was five, and she had already fallen for John. It's O. Veronica Chambers Modern Love column says it is all right to be clingy and desperate when dating men who are just not that into you because they are simply preparing you for the one who is into you; drawing M.

As the editor of this column, sifting through the tales of love, sex, dating and marriage, I offer the following thoughts on the oft-tortured state of modern love. Daniel Jones Modern Love column gives overall observations about love, sex and dating in 21st century compiled from many letters and e-mails sent to columnist; drawing M. The bracing truth is that he was living larger than I was, in my place. Everything felt chaotic and alien. Heather Fenby Modern Love column on clutter and chaos her boyfriend brought into her life when she let him move into her tiny apartment; drawing M.

He wore gray turtleneck sweaters and smelled like mint aftershave and old books. He reminded me of my father, but his intentions were hardly paternal. Abby Sher Modern Love column on dating an older man who reminded her of her father; drawing M. Roy wanted me to know that he and my father weren't just a couple of guys boozing it up out on the boat. MY sister e-mailed me the death notice from The Seattle Times with just this cryptic note: ''Make sure you read all the way to the bottom.

Like Ginger Rogers I danced out of the theater with an airy, lightheaded feeling. It was like renewable virginity. Lainie Keslin Ettinger describes how solo outings to see romantic comedies reinvigorated her sex life with her husband; drawing M. In the continuing case of Full-Time Homemaker vs. Working Mother, I offer myself as Exhibit A. Terry Martin Hekker, author of book Ever Since Adam and Eve, which touts woman's right to be homemaker, describes what it is like to have your husband leave you and be divorced at age 60; holds that few women of her generation are prepared to ente Watching my father's illness progress was watching him move inward to some secret, native core.

WHEN my father was fairly well along into the dementia of Alzheimer's -- not as far as he was to go, but four or five years in -- he developed a taste for looking attentively at trees. At the time I was not aware that this is a common pleasure for One of those children up for adoption was mine. My kid, misplaced somehow, and determined to find her way home. FOR about a year, for the first time in my life, I was addicted to a Web site. Well, two Web sites actually, both of which did the same thing.

They listed beautiful children, tragic children, children whose photographs were displayed in colorful r For a selfless surrogate mother, the heartbreak that came from leaving was a surprise. IN the bright California sunshine I'm watching a little girl run around the playground. Her wispy blond hair escapes once again from the ponytail one of her fathers carefully formed for her. She is adorable in her pink, black and white dress with Little has been written about the time when parents are supposed to cut back on the physical contact with their children.

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Linda Baker Modern Love article on strong physical bonds she has with her children and altering hugging and similar behavior as children get older; drawing M. After months of contemplating breaking up with her boyfriend, the author finally ended the relationship using a PowerPoint presentation. LAST spring I broke up with someone perfect.

Perfectly, that is. Last spring I broke up with someone perfectly. I set out exactly which aspects of our relationship were lacking and why, meticulously charted our decline, and pared months of frustra At 14, our son spiraled out of control. We looked into having him taken away to a wilderness program that would help him.

IT'S dark. I lie in bed with my eyes open. The windows are closed, but I can still hear the gentle midnight roar of the New Jersey Turnpike, a mere quarter-mile from the front door of my safe suburban home. Safe, that's a joke. Walk through m I AM a good, practical girl. I eat my vegetables. I go to bed early. In fact at 31, I'm not just good, I'm also an apprehensive priss -- and I hate it. In an attempt to invent a brave new me I joined an online dating Web site. Something had to She had dark pageboy hair and ever-scanning eyes, as though reading some invisible teleprompter.

I WAS married, and feeling the stirrings of loneliness, when I started thinking seriously about getting a dog. In broaching this subject with my husband of a year and a half, I didn't mention the loneliness part. I simply told him I wanted a dog a IT'S a big morning for me: a breakfast date at my place, and I'm cooking. I've scoured the markets and rounded up the best of everything: oranges for zesting, pears for roasting, balsamic for drizzling, goat cheese for crumbling and, to amp up my And he is good-looking, our son, with his blue eyes, wavy hair, broad shoulders and warm smile.

He's also got a deep voice he wor We met at a party, where he hovered around my conversational circle for a while and then came up to me and asked, ''Are you with someone? I'd come with my office mate, another editor. I admit it looked silly, and it felt silly, too. But my psychotherapist had urged me to start writing down my conversations with people about what had happened I'M driving my niece and nephew to the Museum of Science. At the end of our outing, when I take them home, their father -- my brother John -- will tell them that their mother's latest cancer treatment has failed and that she will die.

But for now I WAS in my favorite restaurant again, everything in its place except for the empty seat across from me. I never minded eating alone, though I'd long experienced shared meals, especially really great ones, as the ultimate intimacy. Since my br THERE was no guarantee that doing an open adoption would get us a baby any faster than doing a closed or foreign adoption. In fact, our agency warned us that, as a gay male couple, we might be in for a long wait.

This point was driven home when bo It's still afternoon but already there are a few office workers here loosening thei Though I know I cede my power the minute I get in a car, I feel we're driving on my terms because they're taking me where I want to go. Some of you are waiting for the phone to ring, or for him to kiss you, or propose, or come home. I just have my thumb out, and I never have to wait long. Though I know I cede my power the minu She wouldn't tell him she still loved him in spite of everything.

Did I dare disturb the universe and interfere? I MET Krista after an abrupt breakup with a live-in boyfriend. I needed a new place to live, and responding to an ad, I found refuge in what felt like the Brooklyn Annex for Aging Spinsters, an apartment of three women between 33 and 40, nursing v I think I like young guys, especially guys in their 20's, because, at heart, I am a guy in my 20's. I woke up happy one morning, not taxed by too much work, not depressed, not sleep deprived. But my brain, forever searching for something to worry about, could not let this placid moment be and quickly started an argument with an imaginary boyfrie Would Julie and I ever have gotten together if I hadn't been a drowning alcoholic in need of her outstretched hand?

MY first date with Julie did not begin well and ended even worse. For starters, I didn't show. It was Saturday evening of Presidents' Day weekend, and I was drinking gin and tonics and watching hoops in the Telephone Bar on Second Avenue, whiling THE orange message light on my cellphone started blinking as I was getting ready for bed.

Barely an hour had passed since our quick kiss goodnight at the subway, and I was surprised to see the screen light up with the initials I'd just entered int When I started to read my nanny's online diary, our entire relationship unraveled. OUR former nanny, a year-old former teacher with excellent references, liked to touch her breasts while reading The New Yorker and often woke her lovers in the night by biting them. She took sleeping pills, joked about offbeat erotic fantasies I WAS playing with my friend's toddler recently, taunting him with an animal voice: ''Grrrr, get over here.

I'm a hungry tiger, and you're one tiny mouse! A LOT of people think I was brainwashed. How else to explain why I would allow the Rev. Sun Myung Moon of the Unification Church to choose my spouse? Most people regard the choice of a life partner as a deeply personal decision, perhaps the mos NATE was my breakup buddy. We were introduced at Scruffy Murphy's Irish Bar by a mutual friend who thought we'd like each other. And I liked Nate instantly. With his tight crew cut and animated features, he seemed transplanted from another generat I HEAR them before they come in, all thumps and frantic whispers in the hall outside my bedroom.

Then the door opens just enough for their shoulders and elbows to jostle through as they compete to be first, followed by the melody of my own persona IT'S done: I've finally finished moving my ex-husband's belongings back into the large, cluttered farmhouse we used to share.

He won't be coming back, but his shirts once again weigh down the closet rack, his boxes of household gadgets and financi A mutual friend had fixed us up on a blind date. She said Ally was smart and fun. I said I appreciated the gesture, but I had my hands full. The mutual friend lowered her voice and added, ''She has a terrific body. Dancing a few steps in a beautified gymnasium is the least I could do to thank the girls who helped me become who I am.

It makes a charming notion for love. It also happened to make an airtight refund policy for the online dating conglomerate I was working for in Los Angeles. Lovelorn hopefuls paid my employer for the opportu FOR my wedding this July, I won't be writing my own vows. I'll have no readings. There will be no customized ceremony reflecting the uniqueness of my union through programs printed from my own computer.

No aria sung in French. No reading of a poem I'M a good mother. This is not an idle boast; I have a signed certificate that says so. I earned this de facto mothering license by successfully completing four weeks of court-ordered parent classes. Why did a judge order me to do this? Was I a ch My father died from alcoholism, and we're all be survivors of some kind.

All I know is he was capable of doing great damage. IT is nearly midnight when I get home from my waitress job. It is not proposed, however, to give a consecutive recital of all that occurred during these four years, even within the narrow range of the writer's observation and experience; inherent interest, or to shed light upon the portrait of the Confederate soldier, the personality of prominent actors in the war drama upon the Southern side, the salient points Page 24 of the great conflict, or the general conditions of life in and behind the Confederate lines.

Again, such are the imperfections of human observation and such the irregularities and errors of human memory, especially in the record of events long past, that many may be disposed to question the value of such a book as this, written to-day, relating to our civil war. I can only reply that not a few of the incidents recorded were reduced to writing years ago, indeed soon after they occurred; while perhaps as much has been gained in perspective as has been lost in detail, by waiting.

Certainly it can be better determined to-day what is worthy of preservation and publication than it could have been immediately after the war. The slips and vagaries of memory, however, cannot be denied or excluded. It can only be said, "forewarned is forearmed. In the record of conversations, interviews, and speeches I shall sometimes adopt the form of direct quotation, even where not able to recall the precise words employed by the speakers and interlocutors--if I am satisfied this form of narrative will best convey the real spirit of the occasion.

And as the writer is, in the main, to relate what he saw and heard and did, he craves in advance charitable toleration of the first personal pronoun in the singular number. There are features of my antecedent personal history calculated, perhaps, to impart a somewhat special interest to my experiences as a Confederate soldier. I was the eldest son of the Rev. Joseph C. Stiles, a Presbyterian minister, born in Georgia, where his ancestors had lived and died for generations, but who moved to the North and, from my boyhood, had lived in New York City and in New Haven, Conn.

I was prepared for college in the schools of these two cities and was graduated at Yale in It so happened that I had never visited the South since the original removal of the family, which occurred when I was some twelve years of age; so that practically all my education, associations and friendships were Northern.

True, I took position as a Southerner in all our college discussions and debates, but never as a "fire-eater" or secessionist.

Indeed, I was a strong "Union man" and voted for Bell and Everett in After my graduation in I passed the late summer and autumn in the Adirondack woods fishing and hunting with several classmates, and devoted the rest of the year to general reading and some little teaching, in New Haven; until, becoming deeply interested in the fierce struggle over the Speakership of the House of Representatives, I went to Washington, and from the galleries of the House and Senate eagerly overhung the great final debates.

I had paid close attention to oratory during my college course and I doubt whether there was an onlooker in the Capitol more deeply absorbed than I. On more than one occasion Page 26 the excitement and pressure of the crowd in the galleries of the House was fearful, and once at least persons were dragged out, more dead than alive, over the heads of others so densely packed that they could not move; but I never failed to secure a front seat. It became intensely interesting to me to observe the part some of these men played later in the great drama: Seward as the leading figure of Lincoln's Cabinet; Davis as President of the Southern Confederacy; Benjamin, Toombs, and Breckenridge as members of his Cabinet, the two latter also as generals whom I have more than once seen commanding troops in battle; "Black Jack" Logan,--hottest of all the hotspurs of the extreme Southern wing of the Democratic party in the House in ,--we all know where he was from '61 to '65; and glorious old "Extra Billy" Smith, soldier and governor by turns; Barksdale, who fell at Gettysburg, was my general, commanding the infantry brigade I knew and loved best of all in Lee's army and which often supported our guns; and poor Keitt!

I saw him fall at Cold Harbor in '64 and helped to rally his shattered command. The Republican party had nominated John Sherman for Speaker, and he was resisted largely upon the ground of his endorsement of Hinton Rowan Helper's book, which was understood as inciting the negro slaves of the South to insurrection, fire, and blood. The John Brown raid had occurred recently, and Col. Robert E. Lee had led the party of United States Marines which captured the raiders and their leader. They had just been convicted and executed as murderers.

The excitement was frightful and ominous, and scenes of the wildest disorder occurred in the House. One of these was in every way so remarkable that I ask leave to describe it somewhat fully. The Republican leaders had become convinced they could not elect Sherman, and about the same time the Democrats, Page 27 seeing there was no possibility of electing their original candidate, Thomas S.

Bocock, of Virginia, had put up William N. Smith, of North Carolina, an old line Whig, or Southern American, and it seemed certain they would elect him. Indeed, he was elected and his election telegraphed all over the land; but before the result of the ballot could be announced, Henry Winter Davis, of Maryland, and E. Joy Morris, of Pennsylvania, as I recollect, Northern Americans or Republicans, who had voted for Smith, changed their votes and everything was again at sea.

It was then openly proposed to withdraw Sherman; and John Hickman, of Pennsylvania, who had been elected as an anti-Lecompton Democrat, but had gone over to the Republicans, took the floor to resist what he characterized as cowardice and treachery. Hickman had not voted for Sherman until the crisis was reached, but had been openly charged, on the floor of the House, with secretly desiring and plotting to elect him. Pryor and Keitt and other hotheaded Southerners had attacked Hickman fiercely, and leading Northern Democrats had upbraided him for his desertion.

Under these taunts and thrusts he had become the bitterest man upon the floor.

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In the gloom which seemed to overshadow the House, Hickman, as he rose, looked pale, repellent, ghastly, almost ghostly. Repeatedly during his harangue, which was really one of great power, he walked from his seat in the back part of the House, down the narrow aisle toward the Clerk's desk, his right arm lifted high above his head, his fist clinched and his whole frame trembling with passion, and as he reached the open space in front of the desk he would shriek out the climax of a paragraph, simultaneously smashing his fist wildly down upon a table that stood there.

The speech produced a profound, almost awful, impression. I remember the peroration as if it were yesterday, as he shouted, on his last stride down the aisle, glaring around upon his Republican associates: "I know not and I care not what others may do, but as for me and my house, we intend to vote for John Sherman--until Gabriel's last trump, the crack of doom, and the day of judgment. There was nothing that could now be done; this call of the roll would end it all. The Democrats went wild and every moment wilder, as the Republicans--even John Sherman's most devoted friends as their names were called--one after another fell into line and voted, full-voiced, for "Pennington.

He sat coolly in his seat, while Barksdale, Keitt, Houston, Logan, and the rest surged around him.

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When they appealed to him, with excited gesticulations, he simply brushed them aside and kept his eyes fixed on a particular spot on the Republican side. As Hickman's name was called and he rose and voted for Pennington, Vallandigham sprang to his feet and, stretching out his right arm toward the Clerk's desk, in a long, resonant drawl that would not be drowned, he shouted: "Mr. Clerk, I move that this House do now adjourn!

Sit down! You can't interrupt the ballot! He would not sit down, and he would interrupt the ballot--and he did. Clerk, I move that this House do now adjourn; especially, sir"--both arms now extended, mouth wide open, eyes wide staring--"especially, sir, since we have just had Gabriel's last trump, the crack of doom and the day of judgment!

A yell went up from the entire House--Democrats and Republicans joining in it.

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There was a wild burst and bolt, of perhaps half the delegates, out of the chamber, and then a rush of the rest for Vallandigham. Poor Barksdale lost his wig in the scrimmage. In a twinkling the hero of the moment was lifted high upon the shoulders of his party friends, who marched triumphantly all over the House, bearing him aloft and almost waving him like a banner.

By this flash of lightning out of the heavens, as it were, the Democrats gained another day, though they did not win the fight. As the story goes, some time during the first half of the war Mr. The proceedings of the House, as recorded in the Globe at and about the date, are orderly and consecutive and the adjournments regular. The record, however, does show an adjournment over a day, and it may well be that the unparalleled occurrence above described took place upon that day.

Those familiar with Congressional proceedings are aware of the usage or rule preventing any trace upon the record of an irregular or illegal session or adjournment of the House; e. Therefore, while not assured precisely how the thing was done in this instance, it is not unlikely that the irregular, illegal and abortive proceedings above described took place upon the day covered by the adjournment, and that the entry of the adjournment over that day was an after-thought.

Page 30 the back benches, where the little Democratic contingent was then wont to abide, Vallandigham arose and drawled out: "Mr. I move you, sir, the following amendment to the bill: 'Provided that, during the pendency of this act, the laws of nature and of finance and of common sense be, and they are, hereby suspended. We realize, of course, that his attitude, actions, and utterances during the war must have been as offensive and irritating to the bulk of the people of the Northern States as they were refreshing and delightful to us of the South; but we believe the time has come when men of all parties would be able to appreciate his tremendous vitality, his unconquerable courage, his unquenchable brilliance.

And, by the way, his death, as the circumstances were narrated at the time in the public press, was even more marvelous and startling than any incident of his checkered life. As I recall the facts, some years after the close of the war he was senior counsel for the defense in a murder trial which excited great popular interest. There had been a collision between the supposed murderer and his victim, at the close of which the latter had fallen mortally wounded by a pistol shot. Vallandigham's theory was that he had been killed by the accidental discharge of his own weapon, and during an intermission in the trial, taking up a pistol, he proceeded to illustrate to his associate counsel just how the thing might have occurred, when, shocking to relate, it did so occur again--the pistol was accidentally discharged into his own person and Vallandigham fell dead.

At the close of the prolonged fight over the Speakership I left Washington and ran down to Richmond, with a view of "spying out the land" as a place in which to try my fortune when I should have acquired my profession. My father had been pastor of a church in that city for four years during, my childhood, and had been much beloved by his people, who received me with more than old Virginia hospitality.

I was charmed with everything I saw and every one I met, Page 31 except that I was shocked and saddened by meeting everywhere young men of my own age in military uniform. They had not long since returned from the camp at Charlestown and the execution of John Brown, and it chilled me to see that they regarded themselves, as they proved indeed to be, the advance guard of the great army which would soon be embattled in defence of the South.

I loved the Union passionately, and while I had seen a great deal at Washington that made me tremble for it, yet I had not there seen men armed and uniformed as actual soldiers in the war of disunion. It was not a little singular that most of these young men --that is to say, those whom for the most part I met in a social way--belonged to the Richmond Howitzers, the very corps which, without choice on my part, I joined in , and with which I served during the greater part of the war.

State conventions, both of the Whig and Democratic parties, sat in Richmond during my visit and discussed, of course, mainly the one absorbing issue. I was an eager observer of the proceedings and much impressed with the high average of intelligence and speaking power in both bodies. This seemed especially true of the Whig Convention--perhaps because I was so much in sympathy with that party in deprecating the disruption of the Union.

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I confess, however, the question has since been often pressed home upon me whether, after all, the Democrats of Virginia did not, in this great crisis, exhibit a higher degree of prescient statesmanship. I do not remember whether John B. Baldwin was a member of this convention of If so, I did not happen to hear him speak.

Preston, Mr. Stuart, and Mr. Flournoy, as well as Mr. Baldwin, were, later, members of the Secession Convention of Virginia, but all were Union men up to President Lincoln's call for troops. Preston and Mr. Stuart were not only finished orators, but statesmen of ability and experience. Preston during General Taylor's and Mr. Stuart during Mr. Fillmore's administration. Preston was afterwards a member of the Confederate Senate and Mr. Stuart one of the commissioners appointed by Virginia to confer with Mr.

Lincoln as to his attitude and action toward the seceded States. Botts made a very powerful address before the convention, but the spirit of it did not please me. He belittled the John Brown raid, at the same time accusing Governor Wise of having done everything in his power to magnify it. He ridiculed the Governor's military establishment and his "men in buckram," while dubbing him "The un-epauletted hero of the Ossawattomie war.

At the close of this, my first visit South, I turned Northward, filled with admiration and affection for the Southern people and feeling that I had found my future home. Notwithstanding the dark shadow that impended, I little fancied that I would so soon again see the fair city of my choice and under circumstances changed so sadly. I was young, and as I turned my back upon Virginia and the John Brown raid, which were then the points of greatest tension, my strained nerves relaxed, and what I had seen and heard of evil portent faded away like a disturbing dream when one awakes.

I found my dear ones well and the practical New Englanders, at least most of them, deeply immersed in business and finance. Like many wiser men, I felt reassured by the comforting conviction that the material interests of this rapidly developing country were too vast, too solid and priceless to be shattered and sacrificed in these superficial popular excitements.

In the quiet of the family circle we discussed my plans and determined that I should enter the Law School of Columbia College in the approaching fall. I do not remember where I went or what I did during the summer vacation, but in the early autumn I came back thoroughly quieted, rested and refreshed, went promptly to New York City and entered with enthusiasm upon the study of my chosen profession under that admirable teacher, Professor Theodore W. Dwight, of Columbia. True, the ground swell of a mighty revolution was gradually rising at the South, but no one about me believed it would ever break in the angry waves of actual war, and I was not wiser than my fellows.

Indeed I purposely turned my thoughts away, which for the time was not difficult to do, enamored as I was of the law. Three or four of us, Yale graduates and classmates, were in the same boarding-house on Washington Square. Ed Carrington, a youth of uncommon power and promise, who lost his life during the war in an obscure skirmish in Florida, like myself, was studying law, but he roomed with Joe Twichell, who was then studying theology; dear Joe, who preached the bi-centennial sermon at Yale, and is to-day, as he has always been, the most admired and best beloved man of the class of ' My room-mate was Tom Lounsbury, then employed in literary work on one of the great encyclopedias, to-day the distinguished incumbent of the Chair of English in Yale University.

But this peace was not to last long. The election of Lincoln, the rapid secession of the Southern States, the formation of the Southern Confederacy, the inauguration of the Presidents, first of the new and then of the old federation; the adoption by the seceded States of a different and a permanent Constitution--all this tended strongly to convince thoughtful men that the two sections, or the two countries, were deeply in earnest and differed radically and irreconcilably as to the construction of the United States Constitution.

Then came the strained situation in Charleston harbor, and the futile efforts of the Peace Congress called by Virginia, and later, of her commissioners and those appointed by the Confederate Government to wait upon President Lincoln. It is unnecessary to say that, though striving hard to maintain my hold upon the law, I was yet far from an indifferent spectator of this majestic march of events. I went repeatedly to talk with two or three of the leading business men of New York, who had been friends and parishioners of my father while pastor of a church in that Page 35 city, and was delighted to find them hopeful; relying not only upon the weight and influence of material and business interests to avert actual war, but also, and especially, upon the noble intervention and mediation of Virginia.

It made my heart glow to hear how these great financiers and merchant princes spoke of my adopted State. They said in effect, that it had always been so; that Virginia was undoubtedly the greatest and most influential of all the States; that she had been the nursing mother of the Union and of the country and would prove their preserver; that Virginians had really made the United States in the olden days,--Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Marshall,--and Virginians would save the United States to-day. They declared that they had always worshiped the Old Dominion, and now, more than ever, for the noble position she had assumed in this crisis.

How could I help glowing with pride and brightening with hope! It is not within the province of this book to discuss the responsibility for that shell. I will, however, be candid enough to say that I never entertained a doubt as to the South having the best of the Constitutional argument; and yet, so strong was my love for the Union and my affection for my friends, at least nine-tenths of whom were on the Northern side, that I often felt, and more than once said, I could never strike a blow or fire a shot in the conflict, if it should come.

Nevertheless, I was inexorably led in the sequel to give myself unreservedly and whole-heartedly to the defense of the South. One link in the chain that led to this decision was the conviction that forced itself upon me that I could not remain in New York. After the firing upon Sumter the whole city was in an uproar. A wild enthusiasm for "the flag" seized and swept the entire population, which surged through streets hung with banners and bunting, their own persons bedecked with small United States flags and other patriotic devices.

It is not worth while to go further into these details. Page 36 Enough to say that it was manifestly as uncomfortable and impracticable, at that time, for me to remain in New York as for an able-bodied young man, of strong convictions on the Northern side of the controversy, to remain in Richmond. Therefore I returned to New Haven, where, with the entire family assembled, we conferred over the situation and decided that father and his three boys must go South as soon as possible, leaving mother and the girls to follow when the way should be clear and we ready to receive them.

As there was no assurance of reaching our destination in safety without passports, father, who knew General Scott well, applied to him for passes South for himself and his three boys. The General replied, sending my father a pass, but refusing to furnish passports for his sons, and it then became necessary for us boys to devise some route, other than the railroads, for reaching our Southern friends. My next younger brother was an expert sailor, having followed the sea for years, and was recognized as perhaps the most daring and skilful manager of a small sailing craft to be found about New Haven harbor, or indeed anywhere in that part of Long Island Sound.

As there seemed to be no other way to Virginia open to us, we bought a staunch, swift sail-boat, had her carefully caulked and overhauled, and set to work to make her some extra sails which my brother thought we might need during our voyage. We procured a copy of a detailed survey of the coast along that part of the Eastern Shore of Virginia where we proposed to land, and also letters to gentlemen living along that coast. The preparation of the boat and the working up of our expedition was a great relief, not only in giving us something to do, but also in holding out the prospect of interesting adventure accompanied by a reasonable spice of peril.

About this time I discovered, in taking a sort of spiritual inventory of myself, that I had passed to another and distinct stage of feeling and of purpose. I believed firmly my people in the South were right; I knew well they were weak; I saw clearly they were about to be invaded; and I was striving to get to them. To what end? With what purpose?

To Page 37 give them another mouth to feed, or to give them another man to fight? Right, weakness, invasion! I did not fully realize this process as it was wrought out in me; but when I came to find my scruples and my shrinking gone-- though not my sorrow--I looked back and plainly saw the path along which I had been led. From that hour, throughout the four years of my service as a Confederate soldier, never did I entertain a doubt as to my being where I should be and doing what I should do.

While our boat was making ready for the trip, some one called at the house and asked for me, but sent no card, so I went to the reception-room, having no idea who my visitor was. The story is in every way so remarkable that I cannot forbear a full recital of it. It should not be forgotten, however, that while the peace of death has, years agone, passed upon the chief actor in this strange, sad drama, and probably also upon most of his relatives living when he died--there may yet be others now living to whom the record of his life and death must needs be somewhat painful; therefore I shall endeavor to tell the story simply and quietly.

When I first knew James H. Beers he was an intelligent young mechanic--originally, I think, from Bridgeport, Conn. We were both members of a Bible-class connected with a church of which my father was then pastor, and Mr. Hallock became interested in him, attracted by his regular attendance at church and Bible-class, and his modest yet self-respectful and intelligent bearing, and he took him to New York in some subordinate capacity connected with his paper.

This was a few years before the war, but Beers continued to visit New Haven often, perhaps regularly. We heard from time to time that he had exhibited unusual facility for journalism and had been rapidly advanced, until he had come to be an assistant to the night editor of Mr. Hallock's great paper. It was probably through his connection with the leading Democratic daily that he imbibed the views he held as to the construction of the Federal Constitution and the relations between the Federal Government and the States; views which he followed to their logical conclusion and in defense of which he ultimately laid down his life.

As the sectional excitement increased and civil war became more and more imminent, Beers grew more and more restless and unhappy, until actual hostilities began with the bombardment of Sumter, when he informed Mr. Hallock that it would be impossible for him to continue to discharge his duties upon the paper. Thereupon he left New York and appeared in New Haven, as above described.

When he announced his determination of going with us I discouraged it, reminding him that he was a Northern man and had, besides, a wife and two little girls to provide for; mentioning also his fine position and prospects, all of which would necessarily be sacrificed. He replied that he had some money which he would leave with my mother, trusting her to use it for his wife and children and to bring them South when she came; adding that God never gave a man a wife and children to stand in the way of the discharge of his plain duty, and that it was plainly his duty to go with us and aid the South in defense of her clear and clearly-violated rights.

I cut the matter short by referring him to my father, and he at once went to his room and saw him. Father afterwards told me it was obvious that Mr. Beers' mind was irrevocably made up and that it would be worse than useless to Page 39 resist him further; so it was settled that he was to go with us. I do not remember whether his wife and children were then in New Haven, but they were committed by him to the care of our mother and sisters, and later followed Beers to Virginia, as I now recollect, in company with the ladies of our family.

Everything was arranged and we were to embark and sail on a certain night, but during the preceding day a telegram was received from a friend who was standing guard for us in Washington, which by a sort of prearranged cipher we understood to mean that we could slip through safely if we left New York by a certain train the next day. My recollection is that it was deemed best to divide the party--Beers, my next younger brother and I getting off so as to catch the train indicated; father and my youngest brother, then below fighting age, following later.

We reached Washington and got safely across the river and to our destination, but, by some untoward accident, Beers was left behind and experienced some difficulty in dodging the provost guard and completing the last stage of his "on to Richmond. We had told his story to our friends and he was welcomed into the same hospitable family circle which was entertaining us. The city was crowded with people, but the sons of Virginia were flocking home to her defense and every heart and every door was open to receive them.

A day of two after his arrival a most unpleasant experience befell poor Beers. Walking by himself in the street, he was arrested as a spy and locked up in the negro jail. For hours we were unable to ascertain what had become of him, and when we did find out it was too late to procure his release on habeas corpus ; so with profound mortification and profuse apologies we had to content ourselves with doing what we could to make him comfortable where he was, he protesting that he needed nothing and could suffer no real inconvenience that one night.

Indeed, noble fellow that he was, he met me with a manly smile at the door of his cell, expressing mingled amusement and approbation; saying that Page 40 while the charge of his being a spy was a little wide of the mark, yet the mistake was a very natural one, that there were doubtless numbers of such characters about, and he was glad to see that we were on the alert for them. Next morning, when his case was called in the Mayor's Court, something of the truth with regard to him had gotten abroad and the court-room was crowded with the first gentlemen of Richmond.

I was the main witness, and it goes without saying that the dramatic points of Beers' strange story, especially those that would most commend him to the Southern people, lost nothing in the telling. He was not only honorably discharged, but he was vociferously cheered by the entire audience, and he walked out of the court-room the idol of the hour--the rest of the last rebel reinforcement from the North shining somewhat in his reflected light.

Thus, to our great relief, the awkward contretemps of his arrest contributed rather to the reputation and advantage of our friend. I recall this additional incident: Mr. John Randolph Tucker--"Ran. Tucker"--then Attorney-General of Virginia, was an intimate friend of my father, who had now arrived in Richmond, and suggested to him that Mr. Beers and I, as we were citizens of the State of Connecticut--where I had recently cast my first vote--were in rather an exceptional position, as bearing upon a possible charge of treason, in case we should enlist in the military service.

The suggestion was deemed of sufficient importance to refer to Mr. Tucker and I interviewed him about it. These two great lawyers concurred in the view that the principles which protected citizens of the Southern and seceded States were, to say the least, of doubtful application to us, and that it would probably go rather hard with us if we should be captured.

Notwithstanding, I enlisted, and Beers would probably have done so with equal promptness had he not been an expert mechanic--men so qualified being then very scarce in Richmond and very much needed. He was asked to assist in changing some old flintlocks belonging to the State of Virginia into percussion muskets, and all of us insisting that he Page 41 could thus render far more valuable service than by enlisting in the ranks, he reluctantly yielded and went to work.

How long he was thus employed I do not know. My youngest brother went on to our relatives in Georgia, but soon after his arrival there insisted upon enlisting in one of the battalions for coast defense. My sailor brother and I enlisted in Richmond and joined the army at Manassas.

I saw but little of Beers after this. Just when he entered the army I cannot say, but it must have been some time before the battles around Richmond in the early summer of ; for on the battle field of Malvern Hill I met some of the men of the "Letcher Artillery," to which he belonged, who told me that my "Yankee" was the finest gunner in the battery and fought like a Turk. Between Malvern Hill and Chancellorsville I saw Beers perhaps two or three times--I think once in Richmond, after his wife and children and my mother and sisters arrived from the North.

I have seldom seen a better-looking soldier. He was about five feet eleven inches in height, had fine shoulders, chest and limbs, carried his head high, had clustering brown hair, a steel-gray eye and a splendid sweeping moustache. Every now and then I heard from some man or officer of his battery, or of Pegram's Battalion, some special praise of his gallantry in action, but as he was in A.

Hill's command and I then in Longstreet's, we seldom met. I am confident there is no battle-scarred veteran of Pegram's Battalion living to-day but stands ready to vouch for Beers as the equal of any soldier in the command, and some of them tenderly recall him as a good and true soldier of Jesus Christ as well as of Robert Lee.


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