half a mile, and I never went there. The students must have been a 

 rather disorderly lot, distinctly inferior in manners and behaviour to 

 their modern successors, A much dreaded custom was the "horn spree," 

 a sort of riot when much darriage to property and some violence to 

 persons were accompanied by a furious blowing of tin horns. A horn 

 spree was always followed by a crop of expulsions and became extinct 

 long ago, though the memory lingered into my undergraduate days. 

 Another vanished custom, which long ago died an unregretted death, 

 was the "Rake," a fat pamphlet of satirical and more or less vulgar, even 

 obscene stuff. Copies of this clandestine pubUcation were thrown 

 through the open windows of the First Church on the night of the 

 Junior Orations. 



Nassau Street was lined with low, chiefly two-storied brick buildings, 

 mostly dating from the eighteenth century and much resembling Bain- 

 bridge House in character; nearly all of these have been remodeled or 

 torn down. The shops were very unpretending and there was not a 

 dehvery wagon in the place; the grocers used to deliver their orders per 

 wheelbarrows of one darky-power, which gave great amusement to 

 visitors. A long, low market-house occupied the middle of Nassau Street 

 in front of the present site of the Chapel, but, even in my earliest recol- 

 lections, it was mostly vacant; it fell into decay and was removed. 



The administration of the Borough appears in my memory to have 

 been of the slackest and most inefficient sort. There was almost no crime, 

 but the sight of drunken men unmolested on the streets was very 

 common. One fact, which I well remember, seems altogether incredible 

 at the present day : an insane old negress, known as "Crazy Dorcas," used 

 to parade the streets, clad only in a carpet apron, that covered her from 

 waist to knee. She was entirely harmless and spoke to no one and the 

 object of her expeditions seemed to be the gathering of cigar-stumps. 

 From the modern point of view, it seems utterly inexplicable that so 

 pitiful a personage should have been so neglected. 



The streets of the Borough, too, were anything but creditable to the 

 corporation and people. The roadways were of the "dirt" variety and, 

 when the frost was coming out of the ground in spring, they became 

 unspeakable bogs and wagons were sometimes mired down in our 

 streets. At irregular intervals, the streets and roads were mended with 

 the hard, dark, local stone, broken into pieces as large as one's hand. One 

 of these mended stretches was carefully avoided by all drivers, until the 

 stones gradually sank into the abyss. The country roads, in our part of 

 New Jersey, were no better and the astonishing change, which in the 



