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marked, the boy, playing about what afterwards became historic ground, was inspired by some unseen power to become the "Poet of the Revolution," as he has been styled.

Three years have passed away, and Philip has been booked for the opening term in the Penolopen Latin School, conducted by the Reverend Alexander Mitchell, for a preparatory course in college.

The boy is on his way for the last time to the residence of his tutor, having spent a short vacation at home. Changes are always sad, even when most desired; and as he trudges along, with his favorite Horace under his arm, the merry whistle at times takes a somewhat sadder strain,- for are not joyous natures ever the most capable of the deeper sentiments? He pauses on a slight eminence; the whistle dies upon his lips, and a dreamy look comes over his face. There are moments in the lives of most of us—I might say portions of seconds -in which the misty veil of the future is raised; and down the vista of years our mental vision has barely time to travel, and rest upon some object, when the veil is dropped again, and we are conscious only of an isolated impression, concerning which we would fain know more. Let us, too, look beyond the veil and read the secrets of the future.

Where the road forks, not far from the old Monmouth meeting-house stands a war-horse; and on it leans a person of majestic mien dressed as a soldier, -none such, however, as Philip had ever seen before. Anxiously he looks down the road, as if awaiting some one. A soldier on horseback rides up, and, throwing himself from his horse, makes a military salute, as if to a superior, and imparts some information of a seemingly unpleasant nature. The officer quickly throws himself into the saddle,

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and both riders disappear in the distance, from which the rolling of drums and rattle of musketry are

heard.

The boy pursues his way wrapped in deep thought; a morass lies to one side of the roadway, over which comes the wailing of the wintry wind, and great storm-clouds veil the sun. The snow begins to fall -thicker and yet faster its great flakes come; and by the border of the morass lies an aged man as if asleep; the large flakes fall upon his upturned face, and play amongst his silvery locks-and the night falls The boy shudders and passes his hand across his eyes to know if he is really awake. The wind has fallen and the sun is brightly shining; the aged sleeper has vanished, and with him the wintry storm. It is now what it was a moment ago,

--

a beautiful, bright morning in December, the eighteenth of the month.

On the fourteenth day of February in the year 1766, Philip's father left him in the care of the Reverend Mr. Mitchell, where he remained until November the seventh, of sixty-eight. His father had died the previous year, and, much as his widowed mother desired to retain Philip with her, she did not blind herself to the fact that his freedom-loving spirit needed the discipline that a set form of rules, enforced by a firm hand, alone could give. She also realized that, although there were many undesirable features in a college life, still the training of the intellectual capabilities received therein surpassed all other, and consequently his power of benefiting others would be enhanced. Therefore, in accordance with her late husband's views, Philip was harnessed into the routine of a collegiate course, in Nassau Hall, Princeton, New Jersey.

During Philip's course John Witherspoon was president of the college. He was Scotch by birth,

but had thrown himself heart and soul into the fortunes of his adopted country; and his great desire was to see it free from the galling yoke of servitude. Just before Philip's entrance General Gage had marched with seven hundred troops into Boston; and the colonies were thrown into a state of excitement by an Act of Parliament which declared the people of Massachusetts rebels; it had also issued an order for those considered the most guilty to be sent to England for trial.

The young patriots of Princeton were not backward in denouncing this injustice; they kindled amongst themselves the fire of patriotism, that was never to be extinguished, and their efforts were encouraged by their patriotic president. Many of Philip's classmates took an active part in later troubles, and left their names inscribed in their country's annals.

Nearly all his college-mates obtained prominence in the paths they entered in after life. Amongst these were Hugh Henry Brackenridge, the talented author and judge; Brockholst Livingston,1 future Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States; William Bradford, Attorney General during Washington's second term of office; Gunning Bedford, a framer of the Constitution; Samuel Spring, chaplain to the Revolutionary army; who, by a strange coincidence, carried wounded from the field another old classmate, Aaron Burr, afterwards Vice President of the United States; Aaron Ogden, afterwards Governor of New Jersey; Henry Lee, Light-Horse Harry; and James Madison, the fourth President, who was Philip's room-mate while in college, as well as his warm personal friend, and an aspirant, as we have already seen, for the hand of his sister.

Philip Fithian, class of 73, in a letter to his father,2

1 This college-mate was afterwards related to Philip by marriage. 2 Philip Vickers Fithian, Journal and Letters.

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