The remarkable character of his memory served him in good stead in many ways through life. As a lawyer it had been invaluable, not only enabling him to cite cases with great readiness to the court, but in trials before juries, without taking notes, he could repeat the testimony of all the witnesses examined, no matter how many, nor how long the trial continued.

Perhaps he was more thoroughly versed in biography than any man who has ever lived in America; certainly North Carolina never produced his equal in this respect. His wonderful memory, combined with great industry, was stimulated by a genuine love of genealogical studies. Almost the first question he would ask a student on meeting him, if indeed he did not already know, was, "Who is your father?" On being told, by a few quick questions he would possess himself of the boy's lineage, and would never forget it. Generally, however, the boys would be utterly astounded on presenting themselves, to find that the Governor knew more of them and their families than they did themselves. It was equally so with all strangers whom he met, and frequently ludicrous scenes resulted from his insatiable desire to trace pedigree. Whilst a delegate from this State to the Montgomery Convention, which organized the Confederacy in 1861, he was introduced to a distinguished gentleman, and without letting go his hand, which he took to shake, he stopped in the midst of the flow of ceremonious speech, and, to the no small amusement of the bystanders, said: "Sir, was not your mother's maiden name Jones?" I doubt if there is a single family on the Atlantic coast, whose members have borne any prominent part in the affairs of the country, in regard to which he did not have more or less of information—at least, he could have told all about its leading representatives. With a very little help indeed he could have supplied a "Doomsday Book" of North Carolina, more accurate by far than that of the Conqueror. It was generally understood at Chapel Hill that if you wanted to know what anything was, you went to Dr. Mitchell; if you wanted to know who anybody was, you went to Governor Swain.

And as he never forgot face, or name, or lineage of the man once known to him, so he never forgot a kindness or a favor once done to him or his, and loved to continue such memories, and extend the chain of friendship to second and third generations. "Thine own, and thy father's friend forsake not," was one of his favorite maxims. He was utterly incapable of resisting an appeal for mercy, or a tale of distress. This was, I believe, the only objection urged against his conduct on the bench—his leniency to criminals. So too arose the only serious trouble he ever had with the Trustees of the University. Stringent measures had been resolved upon by the Board towards dissipation and insubordination among the students, which were not rigidly enforced by Governor Swain. So great was his forbearance with the hot blood of youth, and so strong his faith that time would cure these early follies, and enable the better natures of the young men to assert themselves, that he suffered the Draconian code of the Trustees to lie dormant, whilst he lectured, reproved, and exhorted. He shrank from branding the opening years of a young life with sentence of dismission or expulsion, and would condescend to an erring boy while there remained the last hope of reform. In such cases his judgment not unfrequently came into conflict with the opinions of other members of the faculty, and finally so irritated the Trustees that they passed a resolution of censure upon him, which was publicly read from the platform of the chapel by no less a personage than Governor Iredell. Quite a scene was excited on this occasion, and when Governor Swain arose and replied in his own vindication, it was with much emotion, not unmingled with indignation; "More," says Mr. Cameron, who was present, "than I ever knew him to exhibit on any occasion, before or since."

The lapse of time has shown this policy to have been the best and wisest not only for the young men themselves, but for the institution, and for his own fame. Who of all the hundreds to whom he thus stood in the attitude of a father, kind, and long-suffering, and hopeful, but now recalls him with affection and gratitude; how many a one remembers his college-life at Chapel Hill as the turning point of his career, where he was won by undeserved kindness to paths of honor, not repelled by judicial severity, and feels in his heart that under God he owes all that he has of fortune, friends or fame to the University and its wise head!

While the Governor remained in political life his extraordinary memory of persons and names and events gave him a wonderful advantage. There is no more successful way of making one's self agreeable to the multitude than by knowing men when you meet them, and calling them by name. Not to recognize a man who has stood your friend, and fought your battles at the polls, is always an omission of evil omen in his eyes, and a bad memory for names will not always apologize for what seems to be neglect. Many and many are the shifts of the politician to avoid this fatal predicament. But I venture to say that Governor Swain was never caught in such a way. Once being introduced, he never forgot his man, nor his family connections. After the surrender of General Lee in 1865, when General Sherman had begun his march upon Raleigh, at the earnest request of Mr. B.F. Moore and Mr. Kenneth Rayner, I sent an embassy to meet the federal commander, and obtain what terms were possible for the surrender of the capital of the State.

Having confidence in their firmness and discretion, I selected Governors Swain and Graham, who left in a few moments after their appointment, on a special train, accompanied by Dr. Edward Warren, Surgeon-General of the State. I remarked, after their departure with my letter, as one reason for selecting him, that I had no doubt Governor Swain would find plenty of acquaintances in the enemy's camp, or at least would prove that he knew the fathers of many of the officers. And so it was; on his arrival at headquarters, he not only claimed General Sherman as an old correspondent, and fellow-college-president, but immediately seized upon two or three members of the staff whose parents and pedigree he knew, and was soon at home among them.

And here perhaps it is not improper in me to correct a statement made by General Sherman in his memoirs in relation to this embassy. Referring to it, that General says: "They had come with a flag of truce, to which they were not entitled; still, in the interests of peace, I respected it, and permitted them to return to Raleigh with their locomotive, to assure the Governor of the State and the people, that the war was substantially over, and that I wanted the civil authorities to remain in the execution of their office till the pleasure of the President could be ascertained. On reaching Raleigh I found these same gentlemen with Messrs. Bragg, Badger, Holden and others, but Governor Vance had fled, and could not be prevailed on to return, because he feared arrest and imprisonment." This statement is uncandid, not to say untruthful, by implication at least. These gentlemen had a right to the flag of truce, for it was sent with the consent and by permission of General Hardee, commanding the Confederate forces in the absence of General Johnston, and should not have been permitted to enter the enemy's lines if the bearers were not entitled to carry it. It was not respected, for it was fired upon by Kilpatrick's men, and "captured," as they claimed, and the gentlemen composing the embassy were promptly and skillfully robbed of their surplus personalty, and were conducted as "prisoners" to General Sherman's headquarters. They were not permitted promptly, as the statement implies, to return with their locomotive, with assurances of peace and protection, but were detained there the entire day and night after their arrival within Sherman's lines, until he no doubt knew that Raleigh was entirely uncovered by Johnston's troops. Of course, all the officers of the State government who did not wish to surrender at discretion, left with the Confederate troops, for, the embassy not returning, and no news of its fate, except that it had been captured, and no reply to my letter being received, they had no assurance of protection. Governor Swain states in his address at the opening of Tucker Hall that on the return of the embassy that memorable morning, but a few minutes in advance of the Federal troops, the city was shrouded in silence and gloom, except for the presence of a few marauding stragglers from Wheeler's cavalry, showing conclusively that the city was uncovered when he arrived with Sherman's message. It was some days afterwards, and at Hillsborough, when I learned from Governor Graham the result of his mission, and it was then far too late for me, consistently with other duties, to accept of Sherman's offer of protection, had any one convinced me that it was best to do so, which indeed no one did. My inclinations, I confess, were to be with that little army, fully one-third of whom were North Carolinians, until they laid down their arms. I am happy to reflect that I shared their fate to the last.

This much to vindicate the truth of history. Throughout this whole transaction, as many gentlemen have testified to me, Governor Swain's bearing was, in the highest degree, courageous, discreet, and manly.

During the war his efforts had mainly been directed to keeping the college alive, for such was the impetuosity with which the call to arms was obeyed, that of the eighty members, of which the freshman class consisted in 1860, but one (in delicate health) remained to pursue his studies. (Of the senior class of that date not one had remained out of the army, and fully one-fourth of them fell in battle.) Seven members of the faculty volunteered, and of them five returned no more.

Governor Swain appealed to the Confederate Government more than once to prevent the handful of college boys left from being drafted. President Davis himself seconded these efforts in the earlier years of the war, declaring that "the seed-corn should not be ground up." But as the exigencies of the country increased, this wisdom was lost sight of, the collegians were again and again called upon, till at the time of Lee's surrender there were but about a dozen here, still keeping up the name and forms of a college. But even while the village and University were occupied by four thousand Michigan cavalry, the old bell was rung daily, prayers were held, and the University was kept going. The Governor took a pride in this, and hoped that he was to tell it many years after. But this long and useful life, devoted to the best interests of his country and his age, was nearing its close. Only three years yet remained to him, and these were devoted by him to earnest, unceasing endeavors to reinstate the University pecuniarily, and to recall its former patronage. Darker days, however, were in store for it, which he in the good providence of God was not to be permitted to see.