friends, would have sufficed to bring into unusual prominence his brief
career and his fate as a soldier, even had his intrinsic qualities and
character been less honorable and winning than they were. But he was a
type of a young American such as America is proud to own. He was high-
minded, refined, gifted, handsome. I recollect a portrait of him published
soon after his death,--a photograph, I think, from a crayon drawing; an
eloquent, sensitive, rather melancholy, but manly and courageous face,
with grave eyes, the mouth veiled by a long moustache. It was the kind of
countenance one would wish our young heroes to have. When, after the
catastrophe at Great Bethel, it became known that Winthrop had left
writings behind him, it would have been strange indeed had not every one
felt a desire to read them.

Moreover, he had already begun to be known as a writer. It was during
1860, I believe, that a story of his, in two instalments, entitled "Love
on Skates," appeared in the "Atlantic." It was a brilliant and graphic
celebration of the art of skating, engrafted on a love-tale as full of
romance and movement as could be desired. Admirably told it was, as I
recollect it; crisp with the healthy vigor of American wintry atmosphere,
with bright touches of humor, and, here and there, passages of sentiment,
half tender, half playful. It was something new in our literature, and
gave promise of valuable work to come. But the writer was not destined to
fulfil the promise. In the next year, from the camp of his regiment, he
wrote one or two admirable descriptive sketches, touching upon the
characteristic points of the campaigning life which had just begun; but,
before the last of these had become familiar to the "Atlantic's" readers,
it was known that it would be the last. Theodore Winthrop had been killed.

He was only in his thirty-third year. He was born in New Haven, and had
entered Yale College with the class of '48. The Delta Kappa Epsilon