was an unforgettable sight; the lights along Nassau Street, seen through 

 the red and yellow autumnal foliage, made a fairy scene. 



The next day, after the degree-giving, Mr. Cleveland read a carefully 

 prepared address and received a tremendous ovation from the crowd, 

 which packed Alexander Hall. When he finished, his audience fairly 

 rose at him in irrepressible enthusiasm, for his speech was of great 

 political significance. He explicitly repudiated Bryan and his free-silver 

 heresies and, in that audience, there could hardly have been a handful 

 of people to whom that was not good news. Friday evening, the Uni- 

 versity Club of New York gave a reception to the delegates, to which I 

 was invited. I dined with Osborn and went to the reception with him 

 and D'Arcy Thompson, then of Dundee, an old friend of Cambridge 

 days. Thompson had been sent out to the Pacific coast by the British gov- 

 ernment in connection with the dispute over the fur seals, and was on 

 his way home. The one thing I remember about that reception (it was a 

 rather dull affair) was the sight of Professor Marsh, standing in the 

 middle of the floor and whirling around, so as to bring his back to 

 me as my name was called out. 



Three changes, more or less revolutionary, began with the Sesqui- 

 centennial: first the change of name from the College of New Jersey to 

 Princeton University; secondly, the adoption of the English collegiate 

 style of architecture, best exemplified by Oxford and Cambridge. Sloane 

 had been much pleased by Pembroke Hall at Bryn Mawr and urged 

 that the new Blair Hall should be given to Cope and Stewardson, the 

 architects of Pembroke. Pyne also, in building the new library, in- 

 structed his architect to follow Oxford precedents meticulously. Thus 

 began the great building programme which, with its advantages of 

 site, have made Princeton one of the most beautiful of American uni- 

 versities. The third change which, though seemingly trivial, was really 

 important, was the systematic adoption of academic costume for all 

 formal occasions. 



Immediately after the celebration it was announced that Sloane was 

 leaving Princeton for Columbia. He told me that one large factor in 

 inducing him to make the change was his sense of humiliation in being 

 a defeated candidate for the presidency. This was a terrible blow to me 

 and the cause of a grief only less than that which the loss of Osborn 

 had occasioned. Happily, Sloane kept his Princeton house and made it 

 his home from his retirement to his death. In both cases my sorrow 

 and consternation were almost as much for the College as for myself. 

 In this respect, the coming of Henry van Dyke was a compensation, 



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