ton college at the age of sixteen and graduated at
nineteen, for in those days the curriculum in our schools and
universities was more brief than at present. The Princeton college to
which I came was rather a primitive institution in comparison with the
splendid structures that now crown the University heights. There were
only seven or eight plain buildings surrounding the campus, the two
society-halls being the only ones that boasted architectural beauty. In
endowments the college was as poor as a church mouse. There were no
college clubs, no inter-collegiate games, thronged by thousands of
people from all over the land; but the period of my connection with the
college was really a golden period in its history. Never were its chairs
held by more distinguished occupants. The president of the college was
Dr. Carnahan, who, although without a spark of genius, was yet a man of
huge common sense, kindness of heart and excellent executive ability. In
the chair of the vice-president sat dear old "Uncle Johnny" McLean, the
best-loved man that ever trod the streets of Princeton. He was the
policeman of the faculty, and his astuteness in detecting the pranks of
the students was only equalled by his anxiety to befriend them after
they were detected. The polished culture of Dr. James W. Alexander then
adorned the Chair of the Latin Language and English Literature. Dr. John
Torrey held the chemical professorship. He was engaged with Dr. Gray in
preparing the history of American Flora. Stephen Alexander's modest eye
had watched Orion and the Seven Stars through the telescope of the
astronomer; the flashing wit and silvery voice of Albert B. Dod, then in
his splendid prime, threw a magnetic charm over the higher mathematics.
And in that old laboratory, with negro "Sam" as his assistant, reigned
Joseph Henry, the acknowledged king of American scientists. When, soon
after, he gave me a note of Introduction to Sir Michael Faraday,
Faraday said to me: "By far the greatest man of science your country has
produced since Benjamin Franklin is Professor Henry." With Professor
Henry I formed a very intimate friendship, and after he became the head
of the Smithsonian Institution I found a home with him whenever I went
to Washington.

Our class, which graduated in 1841, contained several members who have
since made a deep mark in church and commonwealth. Professor Archibald
Alexander Hodge was one of us. He inherited the name and much of the
pow