marked by a
large tree, but a few years ago the hallowed landmark was cut down and
removed by heartless barbarians. The house to which the wounded hero was
carried, where the 'two Quaker ladies waited on him' so assiduously,
still stands, and on the floor of the room in which he died are certain
marks, of doubtful origin, said to be blood-stains from his death-wound.
Over the now peaceful battle-field, reddened with nothing more terrible
than the ruddy clover-heads, a tall flag-staff, surmounted by a gilded
eagle, uprears the glorious stars and stripes, and attests the loyalty
of the people of Princeton.

About midway of the long, shady street of which Princeton chiefly
consists, stands the crowning glory of the place, the venerable College
of New Jersey. The college proper is a long, four-story edifice of
stone, its center adorned with a tower and belfry, conspicuous from
afar. At either side of it are clustered other buildings, embracing its
halls, recitation rooms, and chapel.

It stands a little distance back from the street, between it and which
lies the 'Campus,' a beautiful grassy slope of vivid green, surrounded
with an iron fence, laid out with neat gravel walks, and shaded by noble
and magnificent trees of more than a century's growth. Nothing can be
more beautiful in summer time than this shady lawn. Here, at all hours
of the day, students may be seen reading alone, or conversing in groups,
seated on the benches placed at intervals among the trees, or stretched
at full length on the fragrant grass, kicking their heels gymnastically
in the air, or sauntering with arms interlocked along the gravel walks,
singing, perhaps, some college song, such as

'Gaudeamus igitur,
Juvenes dum sumus,'

or others less classical and more uproarious.

Here, too, those known to their class-mates as the 'hard fellows,' are
wont to prowl in the darkened hours, making night hideous with terrific
voices, or stealing in darkness and silence to play some trick on the
'Profs.' or 'Tutes.'

From the gates of the Campus, every afternoon at the hour of five, or
after prayers, the whole troop of students, to the number of three
hundred, issue, for the purpose of taking their evening walk. Down the
street they march, by twos and threes, chatting, laughing, telling
college stories, or rehearsing the gossip of the day, into the extreme
lower end of the long street, a locality known as Orthodox Corner, where
they turn and march bac