swept by the fire of 1776 still lay in blackened ruins. No effort had
been made to rebuild except where temporary wooden huts had been set
up by the soldiers. The churches, all of which had been used for one
purpose or another, were dismantled, blackened, and marred. There was
scarcely a house in all the little town that had not been ill-used
by the soldiers. Fences were down, and the streets were filled with
rubbish. It was a city stricken with premature decay. Business life
was dead, and would have to be begun all over again. The citizens were
divided against themselves. Feuds existed everywhere. Patriots who had
fled and had now come back felt a deep bitterness against those who had
adopted the royal cause for the purpose of keeping possession of their
property. These, however, complained just as bitterly because now their
homes were taken from them in the adjustment.

King's College, of which you have been told, had been closed all during
the war, and had been used as a hospital. It was opened now, but was
called Columbia College, as the King no longer had any claims on the
city or its institutions.

During the next few years business slowly revived, and day by day the
city was rebuilt, growing into something like its old self.

Some little distance above the Common was the City Hospital. There came
rumors at this time that the bodies of the dead were being stolen from
the graveyards and used by the students for dissecting purposes. There
was no truth in these stories, yet many persons became alarmed. They
gathered, broke into the hospital and destroyed everything of value.
The doctors fled to the jail on the Common for protection. The mob
determined to seize them, and tore down the fences about the jail. Then
the Mayor gathered a body of citizens to oppose the mob. As night came