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Vol. XXX. NOTRE DAME, INDIANA, October 3, 1896. No. 4. 

Hills of Home. 



LUE hills of home, 

1 Where’er I roam 
The memory hovers round me day and night, 
Of fair blue-bells. 

The -honeyed wells 

Where bees do love to linger with delight; 
That shady slope 
Which bleating flocks surveyed. 

Dear hills, my hope 
Is soon to wander in your shade! 

Grey cloud-tipped peaks, 

My fancy seeks 

To probe the secrets that surround each crest, 
To soar beyond, 

• In regions fond, 

All heavy cares, that crush the human breast. 
My memory steals 
Me back to that loved home; 

My fancy feels 

Ecstatic as it whispers “Come!” 

James Clarence Mangan. 


N the cemetery of Glasnevin, on 
.the northern confines of Dublin, 
'where O’Connell, Curran, Parnell 
and many another brilliant and 
patriotic Irishman sleeps his 
last sleep, lies the body of one 
who is generally ''conceded to 
be. the greatest of Ireland’s 
poets. Without stone or monument to mark 
his last abode, he sleeps the sleep that knows 
no waking, forgotten* by all save a few of his 
own countrymen and lovers of good literature. 

James Clarence Mangan was born in Dublin 
in 1S03. Of his early life little is known. He 
went to school until he was fifteen, at which 
age he obtained a situation in a scrivener’s 
office, where he remained for seven years. 
Afterward he became a solicitor’s clerk, which 
position he held for three years. Of this period 
in his life the poet says: “I was obliged to 
work seven years of the ten, from five in the 
morning, winter and summer, to eleven at night; 
and during the remaining three years, noth- 
ing but a special providence could have saved 
me from suicide. The misery of my own mind, 
my natural tendency to loneliness, poetry and 
self-analysis, the disgusting' obscenities and 
horrible blasphemies of those associated with 
me, the persecutions I was obliged to endure, 
and which I never avenged but by acts; of 
kindness, the close air of the room aridwthe 
perpetual smoke of the chimney — all these 
destroyed my constitution. No! I am .wrong: 
it was not even all these that destroyed ‘me. In 
seeking to escape from this misery, I had laid 
the foundation of that evil habit which has 
proved to be my ruin.” 

From his own words we can easily see what 
misery and pain he must have endured during 
those ten long years; and we can appreciate it 
all the more when we know that he suffered all 
this mental anguish and torment in order to 
support his mother, brother and sister.. No 
wonder that he never looked back upon this, 
portion of his life without shuddering and 
horror, for it was then that he contracted that 
love for brandy and craving for opium, which 
laid him low in the grave when he should have 
been in the prime of life and in the full fire 
of his genius. Yet it must have been during 
these ten terrible years that he acquired the 
greater part, if not all, of that wide and varied 
learning which he possessed. I can imagine 


5 ° 

him, as far into the night he pored over his • 
books by the light of a candle, but I cannot 
appreciate sufficiently the perseverance and 
determination which enabled the poor, weary 
toiler of the day to spend sleepless nights in 

For some years after Mangan had left the 
order to satisfy his cravings for knowledge, 
attorney’s office, there is a period in his life 
of which . comparatively little is known; and 
when we next see him it is but the wreck of 
his former self which appears to us. The 
bright-eyed youth has become a decrepit, 
stricken-down old man. It is said, however, 
that during this time Mangan fell in love and 
was disappointed. John Mitchel, who wrote 
his biograph)'-, says of him about this time: 

“ From several obscure indications it is plain 
that in one at least of the great branches of 
education he had run through his curriculum 
regularly; he had loved and was deceived.” 
In this statement, however, I think that Mr. 
Mitchel was wrong, for Father C. P. Meehan, 
the kind priest who attended Mangan in his 
last hours, and who undoubtedly knew the poet 
better than any other man at the time, says 
that Mangan was never in love. Hence this 
could not have been the disappointment which 
affected his whole after-life. 

Be that as it may, Mangan had passed through 
the greatest crisis of his life. What that crisis 

• was we know not; but we do know that the 
poet in passing through it became a changed 
man, and never again recovered his health or 
strength of body. 

By this time his writings had won for him 

• many friends, but shy and sensitive as he was 
he avoided them all. Through their influence 
he was appointed to a position in the Library 
of Dublin University, and here, in a position 
for which he was eminently fitted, he dragged 
out the remainder of his wretched life. His 
evil habits became stronger and stronger and 
little by little sapped and undermined his 
constitution, till at last the end came. He died 
June 20, 1849, an d may God grant that his 
troubled spirit has found the repose and quiet 
for which it had so long sought! 

We have given this short sketch of Mangan’s 
life, in order to acquaint the reader with our 
poet; but we have only, sketched the life of 
Mangan the man. His. inner or truer life yet 
remains, and that we can read in his works. He 
really lived in his poetry, and his outward life 
was but a living death. His great soul knew 
' no bounds, could be restrained by no shackles, 
and, borne on the golden wings of liis fancy, it 

soared aloft into the empyrean, and wandered 
at will over the fairy worlds of his imagination. 
He was a true poet; there was nothing mechan- 
ical about him, and everything he wrote came 
from his heart. He evinces a depth of feeling 
which we see in no other Irish poet. 

Mangan was a scholar; but how or whence 
he acquired his knowledge we cannot deter- 
mine, other than that he acquired it himself. 
A thorough classical scholar, he was versed 
in Spanish, French and German, “arid he roved 
at will through the glowing garden of their 
poetic literature.” 

As a poet Clarence Mangan has been 
greatly underrated. This was, no doubt, due 
to the fact that, unlike Moore or Mahoney, 
he never catered to the English publishers. 
He never wrote a poem or an article except 
for the patriotic Irish papers, and he always 
treated the English booksellers and press with 
scorn and contempt, not deigning even to 
notice them. On this account he lacked that 
advertising, at which we must confess the 
British publishers are so clever;, consequently 
it is only of late that due praise and attention 
have been given to his genius. Of a modest 
and retiring disposition, he became but little 
known even in his own land, and many an 
inferior poet held the place in the family 
household which belonged to Mangan. 

But now circumstances have changed, and 
Mangan has become dear to every Irish heart. 
Truly did Mitchel say: “I have never yet met 
a cultivated Irishman or woman of genuine 
Irish nature who did not cherish Clarence 
Mangan above all the poets that their island 
of song ever nursed.” To show how great the 
interest taken in Mangan is at present, we 
merely mention the fact that Miss Louise 
Imogen Guiney is busily engaged in getting 
out a collection of his poems. 

As a translator Mangan was inimitable, and 
some of his best work is done in this line. He 
never believed in literalness, and allowed himself 
such freedom that in many cases his transla- 
tions are nothing more than paraphrases. He 
always, however, caught the fire and spirit of the 
original and very often vastly improved upon 
it, and what was before crude ore became, 
under his magic touch, the purest of refined 
gold. In his Irish translations he generally 
chose those subjects of a dismal character and 
with that melancholy strain running through 
them that so well accorded with his nature. 
What a world of woe and desolation is 
breathed forth in' his “ O -Hussey’s Ode to the 



Maguire,” “ Sarsfield,” “ Kinkora,” and “ Dark 
Rosaleen!” We can see in these that strange, 
mercurial temperament of the Celt; bold and 
irresistible in triumph, but despondent and 
weak in adversity. Strange -to say, Mangan 
could not read a word of Irish, and his transla- 
tions are but versifications of paraphrases 
furnished him by Irish scholars of the time. 
These he rendered in his own way, yet he 
always caught and expressed the spirit, the 
cadence and the rhythm of the original. 

His German translations were collected and 
published in 1845 under the title of “Antho- 
logia Germanica.” In these translations he is 
undoubtedly unequal, yet some of them are 
masterpieces, whether we consider them as 
translations or not. They were, as Mitchel says, 
“never, perhaps, exceeded for strength, sweet- 
ness, clearness and beauty of finish.” What 
can be more beautiful than his translation of 
Rueckert’s “Dying Flower,” of which we give 
a selection: 

“ How often soared my soul aloft 
In balmy bliss too deep to speak, 

When zephyrs came and kissed with soft 
Sweet incense breath my blushing cheek! 
When beauteous bees and butterflies 
Flew round me in the summer beam, 

Or when some virgin’s glorious eyes 
Bent o’er me like a dazzling dream!” 

Is there a word or phrase in the “ Spectre 
Caravan” which can be altered without destroy- 
ing the music of the verse? Or could the 
melody be more perfect, or the picture be 
placed before us more clearly? In his first 
stanza alone, can we not picture the scene 

“’Twas at midnight in the desert, where we rested on the 

There my Beddaweens were sleeping, and their steeds 
were stretched around; 

In the farness lay the moonlight on the mountains of 
the Nile, 

And the camel-bones that strewed the sands for many 
an arid mile.” 

And again, what could be more pathetic or 
accordant with the disappointment which the 
poet met with in his life than the following 
passage from Schiller: 

“Extinguished in dead darkness lies the sun 

That lighted up my shrivelled world of wonder — 
Those fairy bands imagination spun 
Around my heart have long been rent asunder. 
Gone, gone forever, is the fine belief - 

The all-too generous trust in the Ideal; 

All my divinities have died of grief, 

And left me wedded to the Rude and Real.” 

Everyone is familiar with Longfellow’s trans- 
lations from the German, ;and it might jbe well 

to compare these with Mangan’s. The first 
stanza of the “Castle by the Sea” Longfellow 
translates as follows: 

“Hast thou seen that lordly castle. 

That castle by the sea. 

Golden and red above it. 

The clouds float gorgeously? ” 

Mangan renders the same: 

“ Sawest thou the castle that beetles over 
The wine-dark sea? 

The rosy sunset clouds do hover 
Above it so goldenly.” 

Only saying that Longfellow’s is the more 
literal, we leave it to the reader to decide 
which is the more poetical. In another trans- 
lation Longfellow sings: 

“ I heard a brooklet gushing 
From its rocky fountain near, 

Down into the valley rushing. 

So fresh and wondrous clear.” 

Mangan renders it thus: 

“There danceth adown the mountain 
The child of a lofty race; 

A streamlet fresh from its fountain 
Hies toward the valley apace.” 

Once again Longfellow is the more literal, 
but Mangan is the more poetical. It is a cause 
of regret that Longfellow translated so little 
from the German as we might otherwise have 
had a chance of comparing with one another 
the two greatest translators of German song. 

As to Mangan’s translations from the Coptic 
and Persian they are undoubtedly so in 
name only. The original never existed except 
in Mangan’s mind. No other poet than Mangan 
ever wrote “ The Karamanian Exile,” “ The 
Wail and Warning of the Three Khalendeers,” 
or that magnificent poem “The Time of the 
Barmecides.” What could be more character- 
istic of Mangan than for him to sing 
“ My eyes are filmed, my beard is. gray, 

I am bowed with the weight of years. 

I would I were stretched in my bed of clay 
With my long-lost youth’s compeers. 

For back to the past, tho’ the thought brings woe. 
My memory ever glides 

To the old, old time, long, long ago. 

The time of the Barmecides.” 

Who that has once read these lines can forgot 


them? In spite of themselves their memories 
will ever glide 

“To the old, old time, long, long ago. 

The time of the Barmecides.” 

And those singular verses called “Twenty 
Golden Years Ago,” can we pass them over in 
silence? Can we pass over unnoticed the 
depth of pathos together with the hollow 
humor the poet displays in his lament for the 
life which Avas his “twenty golden years ago?” 


5 2 

To my mind, that poem is one of the most 
pathetic in the English language. Nor can we 
pass unmentioned his “ Broken-hearted Lays,” 
“Vision of Connaught” “The Warning Voice,” 
and “The Irish National Hymn,” all of which 
are masterpieces. 

There is one class of literature of which 
Mangan, as a translator, stands alone. It is that 
class in which German literature excels — those 
poems “which strive to utter that vague, 
yearning aspiration towards something nobler 
and grander than the world can give us, — that 
passionate stretching forth of the hands to 
reach the ever-flying Ideal, which must be to 
us all as the fair Cloud Juno was to Ixion.” 

Mangan was a master of the mechanical 
art of poetry, and it is this, combined with his 
depth of feeling, which makes him the artist 
he is. He had the happy power of clearly and 
aptly expressing his meaning, and he is never 
at a loss for the right word. Then, too, he was 
a believer in the use of broken metres, and 
this one thing adds greatly to the force and 
power of all his works. In this respect he 
reminds us of our own Poe, who also delighted 
in the use of peculiar metres. Mangan had 
very little humor, and that which he had was 
of that bitter mocking sort which shows us his 
sad experience with the world. 

No one‘ who considers the man can be 
otherwise than interested in him or his life — 
or rather, his double life. The man was a 
mystery unfathomable even to his nearest 
friends, and this veil of mystery still hangs 
so closely about him that we cannot but try to. 
tear it away. We know little of him beyond 
his wretchedness and genius; but what we do 
know is sufficient to convince us that had he 
been given opportunities he would have 
been one of the greatest of English-speaking 
poets. As it is, he is the greatest poet the 
Emerald Isle has ever produced, and as such is 
recognized by all great critics. 

In this short article we have tried to direct 
attention to Mangan, and to show his ability 
and worth as a poet. Our subject has been a 
broad one, and we may have failed to treat 
it properly; but if we have accomplished our 
object -we will rest satisfied. We are sure that 
no one will ever regret having spent a few 
hours on Mangan, and we hope that in the 
future lovers of good poetry will devote more 
attention, to him. Then we may rest happy 
in, /the assurance that he will be properly 
appreciated, and will receive the praise and 
place in literature, which he so highly deserves. 

Me an’ the Oap’n. 


Just outside the barracks, where the spring 
sun shines warmest and the spring sod is 
driest, sat Sergeant Quigley smoking his little 
black pipe, with a feeling of deep contentment. 
It was just such a day as was suited to revery. 
The long vigil of winter was over; the first 
touch of the days of a new year brought to the 
mind a bit of idleness which turned towards 
other springs like this and mused upon the 
days that memory knows. At least this is 
what the Sergeant was doing. His eyes looked 
listlessly out upon the greening landscape; 
the puffs of smoke curled unnoticed around 
his head. When I came up to him, he started 
suddenly and saluted: 

“Ah! Gineral,” — he called me thus because I 
was the Major’s elder brother — “it’s a fine 
day we’re havin’.” 

“True, Mike,” I replied. “You seemed to 
be dreamin’ when I came up.” 

“Yis, sir; so I wuz, Gineral, — an’ dramin’ av 
a time whin I wuz happier’n I am now, though 
I haven’t got any rasdn to shuffle me tongue. 
But, sir, it’s in this weather to trundle up the 
owld times. What Bdvuz thinkin’ about wuz 
twinty years ago, sir; an’ I can see it all as 
if ’twere yisterday.” 

“Some girleen or otljer, Mike?” 

“No, sir, it wuzn’L .But there is a bit av a 
girleen in it; an’ such a one as I never saw 
before. Sit down, Gineral, an’ I’ll tell ye about 
the sthory. 

“It wuz this way: When I wuz in the army 
a soldierin’ about tin years, an’ in active service 
about five, I sthumbled on a man that I’ve 
never seen the like av’ yit; an’ I never expect 
to. ’Twuz Cap’n Tom, sir. That’s the only 
name I ever called him, an’ that’s all the name 
you’ll have to know. We jisht .stharted, or 
wuz gettin’ ready to sthart, whin I came under 
his command. We wint out to knock the 
galoots off av thim dammed crows, an’ a maner 
set o’ red divils I never seen in me life. They’re 
worse than thim Chirokees an’ Black Feet. 

“I wuz a corporil thin, an’ not a big one 
aither; but Cap’n Tom tuk a fancy for me, an’ 
I tuk one for him, arid we sthuck like cactuses. 
Anyway, I got a post beside him an’ I tuk the 
banner before long. 

“ It wuzn’t a long time before we stharted out. 
At. first nothin’ came up., .We had a big. march 



.to the inimy’s counthry, but nearly all the boys 
were owld hands an’ didn’t sigh for fightin’ 
as thim young fellies do. They tuk things as 
they had a mind to come. As fer Cap’n 
Tom, he made every mother’s son av ’em feel 
as if they wud follow him through the counthry 
till their jaws quit workin’. 

“ I remimber one night whin some av ’em 
got too much rye-spirits between their belts so 
as they couldn’t tell a bay’net from a gun- 
sthock. He talked to ’em quietly, as if he 
were talkin’ with his own brother. I see’d ’em 
slink away when he wuz finished. The whul 
mob av ’em felt as if they were the manest things 
that ever sthood on two feet. Since that time 
nary one touched a dhrop till the dammed 
Indians slunk into their hole; and thin many 
’av ’em were lyin’ out in the buffalo fields 
widout any longin’ for it. 

“The firsht av the red divils we ran into wid 
both feet, for we had ’em, — owin’ to the skill av 
Cap’n Tom — in a pepper box, an’ cud sift ’em 
out as we plazed. It made me feel bully, too, 
to shoot the words out av their mouths. 

“Thin we wint into hard times an’ active 
service. I laid the owld banner by; for there 
wuz no need av a flag fightin’ those shnakes. 
It wuz betther to keep your glory hid if ye 
wanted to keep it at all. For days we wint 
on over the plains, hot on the thrail av a big 
squad; an’ yit, we cud no more grab ’em than 
we cud fry the earth on a griddle. 

“ Gineral, I never worked so hard in me 
life, an’ yit, I wuz jisht as happy as any 
man. Since thin, I’ve had an aisy time av it, 
but, bedad, I’d like to go through wid the 
same owld campaign agin, wid Cap’n Tom at 
the lead. 

“As I wuz sayin’, we wint on for a dammed 
long time before we had signs av a round-up. 
Whin we got into the hilly regions, we saw 
signs av scouts and dammed quare risin’s 
av smoke, which meant somethin* as sure as 
me name izn’t Dutch. * 

“ Many times I saw the Cap’n wid a lowered 
brow an’ throubled face gazin’ afther thim 
little shmOke signals. I knowed he wuz cal- 
c’latin’ somethin’, an’ I wuz afeard we’d have a 
tough fight wid the red skins before we wud be 
able to clane ’em out. 

“At lasht- we came to a sthand-sthill, an’ the 
Cap’n said: ‘Tomorrow we’ll have a hard 
time, an’ there will be many av the boys that 
won’t fight agin.’ He spoke to ’em that' night 
an’ put out extry watches. ' ' 

' “ Next mornin’ we wint a little ahead until we 

came up on a bit av a hill. Thin we saw the 
sight that knocked us cold. There on the 
hill forninst us, there wuz about a million av 
the dommed feathers an’ warpaint. It seemed 
about twice as much, Gineral; puttin’ it six 
av thim to one av us wuzn’t a toothpick too 
much. The whole hillside wuz covered- rvid 
’em, movin’ kind o’ restless and snake-like. 

“Cap’n Tom sthood before us: ‘Byes,’ he 
said, ‘you see this pile we’ve got to fight. 
We are few, they’re many. But we have guns 
an’ they’ve only got a few av ’em. Don’t sthop 
once. Kill an’ slash an’ shoot till they run; 
an’ when- they take to the woods keep your 
noggins'low. If I fall, you’ll follow Ouigley. 
Whin his turn comes — well, do your duty.’ - 

“We got everything in shape an’ wuz movin 
to . a shnug little cove, whin three av the 
Indians came forrud with a snip av’ a white 
flag. The Cap’n called me an’ Crowley an’ 
we wint ahead to meet ’em, the hateful divils. 
Gineral, they were the most deservin’ av the 
name I’ve, ever seen. 

“ Crowley commenced palaverin’ wid ’em; 
tellin’ Cap’n Tom what they promised, whin 
the whul three wid one lape sprang upon us, an’ 
before I know’d it'Gap’n Tom wuz down. This 
made me sthrong all av a suddin, an’ I tuk 
the one ’at came at me by the head an’ broke 
his neck wid a crack, — which wuz too good 
for his thievin’ hide. Crowley did the same wid 
his; but Cap’n Tom was sthill strugglin’ wid 
the baste that come at him. That wan died 
before he cud take another eye-wink. By this 
time the whul mob came at us, wid a whoop, 
an’ all I did wuz to tell some av the fellies 
to take Cap’n Tom back an’ care for ’im. . 

“An’ thin we let go. I know’d there wuz no 
need av a leader now. Such a savage, bloody 
thrick as that set us all on fire, an’ wid one 
gineral cuss we went at ’em. They came on 
wid a rush^whoopin’ an’ yellin’ an’ swingin’ 
their arms like divils. Then I looked at me 
boys. ; I never saw a line av sterner faces iri 
me life before or since thin. Their eyes was- 
blazin’ an’ bloodshot ; their teeth set like 
vices; The whul line wuz quiverin’ wid anger: 
I knew, Gineral, that every wan wud fight till 
he wuz dead. 

“The first volley tumbled a. heap av ’em 
down, the second more. We didn’t git a third. 
■By that time they were on us, 'an’ every man 
forgot everythin’ an’ pitched in like ravin’ 
maniacs. As for meself, I wuz swingin’ me guri 
for hours; what I did, I cudn’t tell. I wuz 
thinkin’ av- Cap’n Tom/ ; • 



“ I don’t know how ’twuz. All av a suddin I 
found meself sthandin’ wid a bloody gun in 
me hand, an’ jisht afore me wuz a red divil 
squirmin’ in the lasht breath av life. His head 
wuz battered in an’ the blood was strainin’ 
out upon the parched grass. He gave wan 
quiver an’ thin lay quiet. We had licked the 
shkunks so bad they didn’t sthay to take away 
the carcasses. 

“Thin I wint sthumblin’ over the dead to the 
Cap’n. Sir, what I saw wuz enough to make 
any shtrong man quaver. The Cap’n lay in 
owld Crowley’s arms, an’ around him sthood 
most av the byes. Gineral, such a soight I 
niver want to see agin. It wuz near sundown. 
The laves o’ the trees rustled wid the same 
noise as before the fight. On )'onder hill 
lay the scattered dead av the reds. By Cap’n 
Tom’s side, the men sthood wid their clothes 
torn and bloody. Their guns lay in a heap 
broken and battered. 

“ Eight hours ago they tore down the hill like 
wild men wid terrible inds in view; they 
dealt blows wid a stringth that never gave up. 
An’ now, sir, they sthood by the Cap’n wid 
their eyes full av tears an’ their heads bowed, 
prayin’, Gineral, — thim that never thought 
av a prayer before, — prayin’ wid their voices 
choked wid sobbin’. Somehow or other the 
tears bubbled up in . me own eyes as I knelt 
down beside him an’ he tuk me hand. He 
gave me a packet sir, whispered a good-bye, 
an’ — fell back — dead.” 

Here the old veteran paused, for his voice 
was husky, and he wiped off the two tears that 
trickled down over his rough, honest face.' I 
did not urge him. He waited until his voice 
became firmer, and then finished the story 
which I had best tell in my own words. It is 
too difficult to bring out the broken accents 
that told what sorrow was in his heart. 

He who lay alone in the unknown prairie, 
whose grave was marked only by the little 
mound of earth, had looked forward to the toil 
of a soldier’s life as a way to happier things. 
The future of this world, which he had hoped 
and longed for, never came. And how many 
hearts— tender and strong and noble — were 
made sad? In how many hearts is he now living? 

.In a large city in a large mansion there was 
one who opened the packet with trembling 
fingers, and swooned away before she could 
read the message it contained. A fond mother 
tried to press upon our hero a gift of money; 
but he took nothing. He did. not do all this 
for money; it was for the. sake ot Cap’n Tom 

Varsity Verse. 

The Stile— that Used to Be. 


LD times, old books, the hours to while; 

Old friends to dream in revery and rest; 

Old places — such as was the stde, — 

Are these the memories we love the best? 

E. J. M. 


I'm sitting on the stile, Mary, 

Where we sat side hy side .— .lady dufferi'J. 

I’m dreaming of the stile, Mary, 

Where we sat side by side 
When the birds sang love for us, Mary, 

And a pair o’ birds espied. 

The stile was old and worn, Mary, 

And the grass grew ’round its base, 

But I see it now as a queenly throne 
All brightened by your face. 

’Twas our rest whene’er we could, Mary, 

Our caravanserai, 

The scenes of our rendezvous, Mary, 

Whenever we found a way. 

And there — but why recall them, 

For grief comes with the joy, 

When I think that the stile’s no more, Mary, 

But replaced by a pretty toy? 

A pretty toy! — pray, pardon! 

’Tis a toy for boors and — men! 

An iron gate! what madness 

Has changed to the now the then ? 

No more will angels’ whispers 
Be heard around the stile. 

There are angels still, but— horror! — 

They’ve smashed that antique pile. 



You cannot change the good old place 
Though you destroy the scene. 

For memories of her dear old face 
Still keep the old stile green. 

T. T. C. 


Poor old moth-eaten, mildewed thing, 

They’ve hacked and chopped your frame; 

But axes cannot choke the spring 
That still holds to your fame. 

B. J. K. 


f - - ^ , , - „ „ 

Somehow beneath the murmuring, wind-fanned trees 
An odor of sweet, by-gone memories . 

Seems hovering still. We close our eyes and seem 
To see old time-dimmed pictures, and we dream 
Forgotten voices whisper in the breeze. ; 

But stiff our shrine is rifled— yea, the shrine 
At which the students knelt with love divine. 

And worshipped idols of pQetic past 
Is gone. Time all unfeeling has at last 
Placed bars prosaic in the place once thine. ' 

;'*’ v v.*" C M. B. ; B. 



Greek and Mathematics. 


The American student of today differs 
greatly from the one of twenty years ago, and 
the cause of this vast difference may be attrib- 
uted to the fact that he is now obliged to pursue 
a certain trend of study which then would have 
aided him little in practical life. Another cause 
is evident from the object of education, which 
today consists in broadening the intellect, and 
rendering one’s views more clear and valuable 
to others, while its object then was often of a 
pecuniary nature, and to assist the student in 
gaining the professional confidence more than 
the respect of those around him. The present 
scholar shows the merit of devotion to a certain 
class of study, how it assists him in his own 
efforts, and how instructive it is to the knowl- 
edge-seeking public. In the first place, it 
strengthens the mind, so much so that colleges 
have adopted certain studies merely for the 
cultivation and preparation of the student for 
future work — to assist memory and observation 
the natural sciences are taught; to confirm the 
judgment foreign languages and mathematics, 
and likewise every faculty is developed by- 
exercise in its own work. 

In regard to Greek and mathematics it is 
difficult to say which gives the best mental 
training. I shall compare them with each other 
in the different functions the mind performs, 
and try to show the comparative value of each. 
The best common advantage is their aid to 
judgment. In this, I think Greek is subordinate; 
for in the study of mathematics there is a 
continuous line of reasoning from arithmetic 
to the highest branch, while in Greek it is 
almost lost after one has acquired a facility in 
sight-translation. After this is attained the 
study of the language becomes more useful to 
the observation, — the beauties of style, the 
characteristics of the work, the peculiarities of 
the author, are only the reward of diligent 
research. The method of seeking results in 
mathematics rather develops the understanding, 
because in its problems the student is com- 
pelled to begin at one point and work onward, 
but at each step he is obliged to determine in 
which direction the next must be taken. 

For accuracy, mathematics is again superior; 
because the student is forced to be more exact 
in the solution of problems than he is in the 
analysis of a paragraph of Greek. Still, there 

is an objection to this which maintains that the. 
acquirement of the precise meaning of the 
author demands the same mental energy, if not 
more than that used in the explication of a 
theorem. Whether it does or not is hard to 
decide. Greek, on the one hand, embracing 
philology and the comparison with similar 
constructions in other languages, indeed taxes 
the mind to a wonderful degree; but when we 
look at what is required to deal with imaginary 
quantities, then it is that we have an idea of 
what mathematics does for our judgment. The 
acquirement of a good vocabulary makes Greek 
very beneficial as a training for the memory; 
and besides the mere knowledge of words there 
is much to be retained concerning the ancient 
literature, the author’s methods, the syntax, 
and one’s success depends - altogether on ' the 
amount remembered from previous reading. 
In mathematics the memorizing of rules, for- 
mulae and theorems and their application in 
the different branches, is also necessary for 
work in the higher studies, and, in my opinion, 
exacts more energy to preserve them fresh in 
our memory than it does to retain the prin- 
ciples of Greek. 

There are many secondary advantages which 
these classes possess; but the most important 
have been referred to and their benefits 
enumerated in a general way. Now let us look 
at the methods that the different colleges 
use in developing the mind. In Cornell they 
use the mathematical sciences and everything 
connected with them, both for drill and in 
preparing their graduates for practical work. 
Harvard uses both systems, but from her 
catalogue it appears that she gives preference 
to Greek. Princeton agrees , with Cornell; 
Yale and almost all Catholic colleges with 
Harvard. Twelve years ago, one of the German 
universities attempted to substitute mathe- 
matics for Greek, merely as an experiment, 
with the intention of replacing it at the end of 
ten years if it proved a failure. They saw from 
their graduates that during that time less able 
men were turned out, so that the year before 
last they restored Greek to their curriculum. 

If we take the benefits derived from devotion 
to these studies and examine them separately, 
mathematics, in every case, appears to have 
the preference. It seems to strengthen the 
intellect and memory more than Greek, and to 
be far above it as a training for mental devel- 
opment; but-experience shows that it is really 
inferior, and the reason of this is indeed hard 
to find. I myself, .have attributed it to the 



fact that mathematics delights the student 
after he has passed the elementary part, and 
he rather delights in working with exact 
quantities, knowing that the result when ob- 
tained is true and cannot be otherwise. Greek, 
on the other hand, seems to require an effort 
on the part of the student to continue the 
work, unless he is following a natural desire to 
learn the language. 

Nowadays the aim of an education is not 
the simple learning of a few facts and technical 
rules, but the development of the powers of 
the mind; and when a man knows what he is 
most capable of doing in life he should pursue 
it to the end, and turn all his efforts towards 
its accomplishment. We find that mathematics 
and Greek cultivate almost every mental faculty 
and are alinost indispensable to a collegiate 
education. Although the mathematical course 
is good in its place, still a person seems to lack 
something unless he has had a thorough clas- 
sical training, because it embraces nearly all 
the general learning contained in the other 
courses. At the present time mathematics is 
often studied more for its use in practical life, 
and as such it loses half its value as an educator, 
because one is apt to omit a great deal, and 
pass through even more without understanding, 
it thoroughly, in order to complete one’s course 
sooner. On the other hand, the classical is 
considered as a foundation for all the profes- 
sions, and though the same fault may be found 
with it as with the other, still there are enough 
studies connected with it to make up for the 
neglect No matter what position in life he 
may enter, the classical student has enough 
general knowledge to assist him in all his 
undertakings. > 

The Prisoner of Zenda. 


If one were to visit a large bookstore for the 
purpose of examining some.of the latest novels, 
one would be surprised to find how many are 
of the lowest rank and deserve very little 
attention. Although the average novel may be 
read and commented upon by the critics and the 
people for a short time after its publication, yet 
its existence is of a brief duration'. .Its popularity 
gradually wanes, and the novel itself is. lost sight 
of until some curious and interested reader 
resurrects it from its dark abode. Everyone 
knows the old, but credible saying that there 

is always an exception to every rule. This is 
true, indeed, of the novel about which I am to 
speak, “The Prisoner of Zenda” — read not only 
by the critics, who contended with one another 
in bestowing encomiums upon its author, but 
also by the majority of people. As a novel it 
has gained success for its writer, yet, I might 
say, it has received greater approval- as a 
drama. It has brought fame to Mr. Anthony 
Hope Hawkins, who, until the publication of 
this work, was little known. Since then he 
has attained an. enviable position among the 
novelists of the day. His greatest success may 
be said to be in the writing of short stories. 
In these he is a skilful master, both in the 
development of plot and in the delineation 
of character. The story briefly outlined is 
as follows : 

Rudolph. Rassendyll, a young Englishman, 
overcome by the strong' desire of travelling, 
determines -to visit Ruritania, telling his 
sister and his friends that he intends to make 
a few months’ sojourn in the Tyrol for the 
purpose of exploration. On his arrival in 
Ruritania he is surprised to find a similarity 
of appearance between himself and the future 
king. After a few day’s acquaintance with the 
head of the government, Rudolph finds him to 
be a good-natured and jovial partner, and upon 
the king’s invitation to dine with him, Rudolph 
willingly accepts and becomes a participant 
in a very perilous undertaking, which the 
author states in a most striking manner. 

The sumptuous meal of which the king and 
Rudolph partook, with the best wine that 
could be had, was too much for the former. 
As an outcome of his excessive drinking, the 
kins was unable to attend his coronation. 
On account of the likeness between Rudolph 
and the king, Colonel Sapt, one of the king’s 
servant’s and a jolly soldier of the old German 
stock, suggests that in the present trouble 
Rassendyll assume the position and character of 
the monarch and deceive the crowd. Rassendyll 
does not like the idea, as he tells Colonel 
Sapt that if he were discovered in the act 
of imitating the king, great trouble would 
follow. However, after much persuasion on 
the Colonel’s part, Rudolph consents. He 
disguises himself arid, takes the place of the 
king at flie coronation. In the meantime 
Rudolph and the Colonel, have found out to 
their amazement that while the king was in an 
intoxicated, condition he had been removed 
to an unknown place by his wicked cousin 
Michael. -As they are unable to ascertain the 



king’s whereabouts, Rudolph is forced to 
continue his perilous role. He does this with 
great anxiety for three long months, during 
which time he passes through some of ithe 
most dangerous ventures he has ever heard 
of. Not only was the character of the king 
sufficient for him to assume, but he had to 
make love to Flavia, to whom the king was 
engaged. This was greater trouble, but through 
the wise counsels of Colonel Sapt and Fritz 
Von Tarlenheim, another of the king’s attend- 
ants, he admirably succeeded in playing the 
part of the lover. He performs this so well 
that in the course of a few weeks Flavia 
and himself fall deeply in love. What seemed 
at first to be counterfeit, soon became real. 
After much diligent' work the prison of the 
king is made known through the assistance of 
the villain’s concubine, Madame de Mauban, 
who joins the followers of the king in order to 
save him. The king is finally rescued; Michael 
is killed in the attack upon the castle, and 
Rassendyll, after liberating the king and settling 
all his affairs, returns to England a much 
wiser and sadder man. 

The plot is the work of a clever, creative 
imagination. Through the author’s pleasing 
style and the nobleness of the characters the 
interest never flags. It is well connected, for 
the scenes and changes of time follow each 
other in clear succession so that all flow onward 
to the end, making one complete unit. As 
regards Anthony Hope’s style there is some- 
thing so original in it that it is very pleasing 
to the reader. It resembles none of the modern 
writers, nor, I may say,‘ any of the most noted 
writers of the early part of the present century. 
It is neither so rough as to be unpopular, nor is 
it so heavy as to be unbearable; but it is easy, 
forcible and, above all, pleasing. Undoubt- 
edly, the charm of Mr. Hope is in his conver- 
sational method. He does not tire the reader 
with too much dialogue, because he knows 
where to stop in order to hold the interest of 
his reader. 

In the portrayal of character, Mr. Hope has 
achieved greatest glory. He has done this 
with such skill that idealized characters seem 
to lis to be natural. Although we may not meet 
with them in life, still we are consoled when 
we read about them, as our spirits are drawn 
towards that which is noble. The hero of the 
novel, Rudolph Rassendyll, may be somewhat 
overdrawn, yet we hardly notice it in the con- 
trast of the other characters. He charms us 
by his bravery and his good-natured disposi- 

tion. There is one phase .where the character 
is not consistent. After he has settled all his 
affairs he departs suddenly for England as 
though nothing had happened. We would not 
expect such a thing to occur after following 
Rudolph through the work. There is another 
blemish against Mr. Hope, and a very bad 
mark upon the book. Rassendyll, though a 
non-Catholic, receives the Viaticum at the 
coronation. This is a fault that can hardly 
be pardoned. Mr. Hope did not think that this 
part of the book would be attacked by Catholic 
readers as offensive, and, above all, unworthy 
of a liberal-minded man. 

In delineating the characters of Colonel 
Sapt and Fritz Von Tarlenheim, Mr. Hope has 
portrayed for us two soldiers — one of the old 
school and the other of the new. The former 
is a keen-sighted, obstinate warrior and a good- 
natured man; the latter, not so courageous as 
his friend, yet a soldier devoted to his king. 
He has not that stern look of the Colonel, but 
is a soldier of the court, brave and courteous. 
Duke Michael’s character is so well depicted 
that when reading the novel we wish that his 
every movement might be his last. We hate 
him because of his wicked actions and his 
designs against his gentle and good-hearted 
king. Occupying a high position in the kingdom, 
he is not satisfied, but is ever striving for the 
crown. Ambition works his ruin, and thus we 
see his unfortunate life brought to a sudden 
and well-deserved end. 

Flavia, the heroine, is the best-drawn char- 
acter in the novel. Although she does not 
occupy as great a position as Rassendyll, 
still she shines forth in a more brilliant man- 
ner than the other characters. In the portrayal 
of Flavia, Mr. Hope has shown himself to be 
a wonderful artist. When Rudolph decides 
to return to England, great as the love Flavia 
had for him, she was averse to going with 
him, and remains in Ruritania to be the king’s 
wife and an unhappy queen. The separation of- 
These two lovers is the most pathetic scene 
throughout the book. As noble as Flavia is, 
she parts from Rassendyll rather than accom- 
pany him to England arid thereby stain the 
name and honor of her family. If Anthony 
Hope is to be considered a rising novelist, his 
book, “The Prisoner of Zenda,” "speaks for himl 
As I have treated his first novel, in this short 
essay, it appears that if “The Prisoner of 
Zenda” be taken as the criterion of Mr. 
Hope’s abilities, what cannot we still expect 
from his pen? 



Notre Daniil, October 3, 1S9G. 

ISubligljrti cbrrji ,Satur3)an During JTcrm JTiutc at £1. D. Hiuticrsitn. 

Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office, Notre Dame, Ind. 

Terms , $1.50 per Annum. Postpaid. 


Notre Dame, Ind. 

The Staff. 

JOSEPH A. marjion; 






CHARLES M. 13. BRYAN, ’97; 




r Reporters. 


Note. — The Freshmen, Sophomores, Juniors 
and. Seniors of the Classical, English, Scientific 
and of all the Engineering Courses are hereby 
requested to hand in their regular essays to the 
Director of Studies on or before November 2. 

— To address the entire student body on the 
matter of etiquette may be considered a bold 
and reprehensible act, for there are . many 
among us who have already laid the founda- 
tions of their character and acquired those 
good habits, which every one should seek, to. 
practise. But there are others, who, on account 
of their youth or carelessness, can yet lay no 
claim to good breeding. Fortunately this class 
is^ small, but, though small, not insignificant. 
Since a college course includes the inculcation 
of Christian principles and Christian virtues, 
we would say a word to the small class, which 
we have just mentioned, by recommending to 
their attention a booklet called “ Don’t,” con- 
taining directions for avoiding improprieties 
in conduct and common errors of speech. The 
author of this little book takes a hint from 
Portia, and says: “It is a good divine that 
follows his own instructions.” And so we may 

know very well how to conduct ourselves, but, 
at the same time, may conduct ourselves very 
ill indeed. This booklet, which may be found 
in the Students’ Office, will repay perusal, and 
is so neat and handy that its possession will 
be no incumbrance. 


— The candidates for the Varsity are work- 
ing hard and in a few more days will be in 
a fit condition to try conclusions with their 
opponents. The Eleven will soon be chosen; 
therefore it behooves every man who dons the 
canvas to see to it that his practice be all that 
he can make it. The duty devolves upon every 
man of making as good a fight as possible for 
a place on the team, and if so fortunate as to 
secure that honor, he should make every effort 
to hold it.. No man will be so unreasonable as 
to attempt to fill a position which it is evident 
he can not fill, and if, when the team has finally 
been chosen, it appears that any member of it 
fall below the standard, he should at once 
vacate and give a better man a chance. 

— Last year a new custom was instituted by 
the Boat Club which it _ would be well to 
observe this fall. A regatta should be held on 
Founder’s Day, the memory of which will be 
cherished by those. who witness it, and handed 
down to succeeding oarsmen. In the calendar 
of the University of Notre Dame there are days 
which should be looked forward to with long- 
ing and remembered with delight; days which, 
should evpke all the patriotism of the students’ 
souls and fill their hearts with love undying, 
ineffaceable for their Alma Mater. We ought 
to build up traditions for those who follow us, 
even though vve cannot reap the pleasure which, 
in time, those traditions must bring forth. The 
legacy we leave behind must be honorable, — 
worthy of true sons of Notre Dame and appro- 
priate to the season in which they should be 
observed. , 

St. Edward’s Day is one of these red-letter 
days, and what is more fitting to its fulfilment 
than a contest between skill and muscle? 
Already : some r work has been done in this 
regard by members of the Boat Club, but 
greater interest should be shown in this matter 
than has heretofore been evinced. Let the 
sharp, quick stroke of the oarsmen curl the 
waters of St Joseph’s Lake; let the Gold and 
Blue wave in the breeze, and the thirteenth of 
October will be a day- to be remembered! 



The Passing of the Stile. 

Certain mediaeval schoolmen, who had more 
leisure than was befitting, were fond of arguing 
questions of this sort: Utrimi muiecim tnillid 
angcloram acus supra punctum saltare possunt — 
“Whether eleven thousand angels could dance 
upon the point of a needle.” Whatever way 
this grave discussion ended, surely these 
angels could not dance upon our old Stile. 
The point of a needle is not a quarter section 
in Indiana, but it is something— the Stile today 
is nothing, merely a sweet memory, a treasure, 
set away with fair dreams faded. 

Lady Dufferin, in her “Lament of the Irish Em- 
igrant,” begins with this pathetic opening chord: 

I’m sittin’ on the stile, 


Where we sat side by 

On that bright May 
mornin’ long ago. 

The poetic lady 
could appreciate our 
grief, and the diffi- 
culty this Emigrant 
would nbw experi- 
ence if he attempted 
to repeat his en- 
thro n i z a t i o n. He 
might perilously 
perch upon the sup- 
planting, utilitarian, - 
iron gate, but what 
could Mary do? 

She was probably 
no bicyclist, no bird, an angel only by meta- 
phor during the enthusiastic moments of the 

A few days since a rondel-writing Sorinite, 
coming, here like the goldenrod, after the dear 
idle days of summer, bethought him of the 
stile and of those fair white towers that soar 
starward along the sky-line, over emerald, 
billowy, trees. ..There, dwell, as in a dovecot, 
comely., maidens innumerous, guarded vigi- 
lantly as precious things should be guarded.. 
Onward between the lakes, with sunset all 
incarnadined, he wandered, chanting softly as 
did Autolycus, . the love-worthy rogue in 
“Winter Tale”: 

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, 

And merrily hent the stile-a: 

A merry heart goes all the way, 

■ — • - Your sad tires in a mile-a! 

VVhat though he might not pass the Stile and 
enter the Promised Land, could he .not, like 
Mary’s Emigrant, sit upon the stile as he had 
often done in hours of May and watch the 
West burn from flame of carnation to .the 
spiritual golden light that trembles under frost- 
touched maple leaves? Could he not rest him 
there on steps which haply the hem of her 
trailing raiment had made blessed by a touch? 
Even as Satan, 

So on he fares, and to the border comes 
Of Eden. 

Where also “Adam,” the gardener, dwells — 
so named by envious .Sorinites- because he is 
the only man within that Place of Paradise. 
But alack! and well -a- day! where is the 
Stile ? — Mais on sont les > icigcs d'antan? 

At last with the 
gentle bitterness of 
melancholy Jaques, 
he essays a wan 
jest, — he writes up- 
on the gate-post: 
“Please do not sit 
upon the Stile!” 
Then with eyes 
downcast he drifts 
away like a with- 
ered leaf. 

Did the carpen- 
ter, being mechani- 
cal, know what his 
plebeian axe was 
d e stroying? -The 
Stile family is of 
wondrous antiquity 
and deserving of 
better entreatment. Back in the days of good 
Will Shakspere. it was called Style, and before 
the Norman Invasion it was Stigcl. It came 
to England from Germany. When : middle 
: High German was spoken the family was called 
Stiegel ; and in the dim distant days when the 
Nibelungen were quarreling about the Rhine- 
gold it was known as Stiagil. The derivation 
of the name is from Stigan, to climb, to ascend, 
and the family motto, borne by many a field, 
was Sic itur ad astra. The Romans were fam- 
iliar with the. Stile. I do not mean that stile 
which Horace would have us so often evert, 
but the stile which held back charging cavalry. 
Caius Silius Itaiicus, in his epic poem upon the 
Second Punic War (x., 413), says: 

Cervorum ambustis imitantur cornua ramis, 

Et Stilus occulitur, caecum in vestigia telum. 




It certainly is of long lineage, venerable, not 
proper food for axes. - * 

There was an old Stile which the “ Flos 
Regum Arthurus ” had placed near 
Tintagil castle by the Coriiish sea. 

That Cornish Stile was a line of stepping 
stones standing within a violet-enameled ditph. 
Upon these, haply, were set the trembling san- 
dals of old Merlin as he fled into the South, 
and the jeweled purfling on the purple shoon 
of that dangerous damsel Vivian twinkled 
thereupon as she switched over the long grass 
in her unmaidenly pursuit of the very ancient 
precursor of Mr. Herman. There, too, when 
Queen Guinevere went a-Maying Sir Lancelot, 
to safeguard her passage, would hold her 
finger-tips, — a proceeding which was not 
absolutely necessary. 

But why wander so far from our own ; Stile 
which was and is no more? Let us rather 
forthwith begin the quest for that carpenter! 

They that have done this deed are honorable: . 

What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, 

That made them do it; they’re; wise and honorable, 
And will, no doubt, with reason answers yon; — 

nathless we still demand the sacrifice of that 



It is not an easy task to have anything in 
this column of the Scholastic this week. 
Most of our exchanges have not as yet shaken* 
off the torpor of the holidays, and it will take 
many of them a long time before they do so-. 
A few of our friends of last year have reached us, 
and but a very small number of these possess 
enough zeal and talent to be above the child- 
ishness of informing us that Miss Constance 
Montgomery has returned from Michigan, or 
that Professor Slowman is yet away in the 

Jfc ’ 1 

Last year the Mid-Continent— then a monthly 
school paper — had not enough in it to repay 
the looking at it. This year it has. become a 
Weekly publication; but from the first numbers 
we conclude that it is at least four times more 
meagre and forbidding than it was last year. 
We. admire pluck, but not imbecility. 

* . ' 

* * 

Th e. Round Table congratulates Beloit College 
on the success of its co-education movement — 
a movement begun last year not without doubt 
and hesitation. The Round Table believes that. 


to every question there are two sides; and that 
while some of the college men ’(nasty, dried-up 
fellows) still dwell with loving affection upon 
the excellencies of Old Beloit (where there 
were no women?), they have cheerfully trans- 
ferred their devotion and love to New Beloit. 
This is not surprising. In the heart of the 
college youth is change, forever change. We 
understand that in the Freshman class of the 
college there was a fall from the standard of 
scholarship hitherto reached by this class. 
Probably the zeal of the young ladies dis- 
couraged the weak Freshmen. 


* * 

The Earlhamite finds our remarks about 
padding college papers with the aid of con- 
tributions from professors and outsiders “in 
the main highly commendable.” We should be 
obliged by knowing on what points our criti- 
cisms do not meet with the approval of the 
Earlhamite. The Earlhamite ventures to say 
that the editors of most college papers are 
excusable if they occasionally succumb to the 
temptation to fill up by the aid of the professor. 
We do not condemn the aid of the Professor 
when occasion requires it. In our remarks we 
pointed out such occasions. If, outside of this, 
editors succumb to the. temptation they suc- 
cumb to laziness. 


* * 

The Heidelberg Argus opens, the present 
year in the same spirit which it showed during 
the whole of last year. Is the Argus a field for 
the efforts of Heidelberg students, or a stage 
for the long-winded pomposities of professors 
and outsiders, eked out by the scissors of the 
staff? Enough is as good as a feast, especially 
at an unbecoming repast. 

* * 

The St. Vincent's Journal ', in chaste covers, 
celebrates the Golden Jubilee of the foundation 
of St. Vincent’s Abbey. Reproductions of St. 
Vincent’s in 1846 and 1896, together with 
pictures of the men who have made the 
institution what it is, add to the attractiveness 
of the number. We cordially concur with the 
sentiments of the Journal that the fiftieth 
anniversary of St. Vincent’s is an occasion 
when one, like a traveler, who, after covering 
a difficult and darksome way, has reached an 
eminence, may pause and look back with 
self congratulation upon the path already 
covered. Such a retrospect has quickening 
results. The energy, devotedness and sacrifice 
visible in the past give impulse to the present, . 


6 1 

while the conviction is born that the achieve- 
ment of each individual, though small in itself, 
is, when combined with the efforts of others 
striving for the saine end, a factor productive 
of glorious results. It is unnecessary to say we 
felicitate St. Vincent’s on this happy occasion, 
and hope that an equal stretch of further life 

may be blessed with equal success. 


* * 

An exchange editor, in an outburst of timid 
righteousness, condemns the assertion of what 
he deems immoral advertisements between the 
covers of a college paper. Managers of pool 
and billiard rooms, and dealers in cigars and 
tobacco should be allowed no voice in a concert 
where the elevating strains of a baccalaureate 
sermon might be stifled by the clamorings of 
wickedness. There are two sides to every ques- 
tion, as all old men say. Advertising clothiers 
and grocers might also be prevented from 
contaminating the backs of college magazines, 
for these good souls may, in their way, develop 
the immorality of vanity and gluttony. As it 
is the first time that the said exchange editor 
is heard he begs that his mistakes might be 
forgiven. In oiir pity we are ready to, forgive 
him anything. 



— The many friends of Mr. J. Ducey, Sr., were 
glad to see him at the University this week. 

— Rev. George A. Lyons, of the Most Precious 
Blood Church, Hyde Park, Boston, and the Rev. 
P. J. O’Callaghan, the well-known Paulist Father, 
were guests of the University on Tuesday last. 

— Mr. J. Francis Harrison (student ’96) paid 
us a passing visit on his way to New York. 
Frank will attend the New York College of 
Pharmacy. His many friends wish him success. 

— The Hon. Judge T. E. Howard, accom- 
panied by United States District Attorney 
Burke, spent Wednesday morning in looking 
over the treasures of the Bishops’ Memorial 

— Louis C. Wurzer (Law ’96) has opened an 
office in the Majestic, Building in Detroit. He 
is with Corporation Counsel Chas. E. Flowers 
and Mr. John E. Moloney and is rapidly build- 
ing up a good practice. 

— Thomas Monarch (student ’93) was a 
welcome visitor at the University last week. 
He is the same, good-natured fellow he was 
when in college, though there is a furrow 
between his eyes that has grown there during 
the past three years. The only fault his friends 
here find with, Tom is that he doesn’t come 

—John Qriffin Mott. (LL. B. ’95, Litt. B. ’96} 

was here on a visit last week, and took a run 
to Danville to visit his chum, Francis W. 
Barton (Biol. ’96). Frank turned out the 
whole, town to meet him, giving a dance in his 
honor, and entertaining him royally. Both will- 
take post-graduate courses, Mott in law at 
the Catholic University, Barton in medicine at 
the College of Physicians and Surgeons, the 
medical school of Columbia College, New York. 

— The Rt. Rev. Monsignor Stephen, who has 
charge of the Indian Bureau at Washington, 
honored the President and Faculty with a 
passing call. The Monsignor appeared to be 
in the’ best of health, which blessing the 
Scholastic hopes it may be his privilege to 
enjoy, for many years to come. With the 
Rt. Rev. visitor was an old patron of the 
Institution, Colonel Pollock, former Inspector 
of the Indian Schools. We are pleased to note 
that both gentlemen were favorably impressed 
.with their visit. 


Mr. Michael J. Cooney. 

It is our sad duty to chronicle the demise of 
one of Notre Dame’s old friends and patrons, 
Mr. Michael J. Cooney, of Toledo, Ohio, who 
departed this life on last Friday morning. The 
news of Mr. Cooney’s death comes as a severe 
shock to his numerous friends at Notre Dame, 
for he was much prized by all who knew him. 
As a citizen and as a private individual he 
impressed all with whom he came in contact 
as an ideal man. He was as unassuming as 
a child, and was so highly esteemed and 
respected by his fellow-citizens that they feel 
in his death a personal loss to themselves. 
He was always .full of gratitude for favors 
done him. When told that some friends of his 
at Notre Dame were making a novena for 
him, he expressed his heartfelt thanks, and 
requested that his words be repeated to those 
who took such a practical interest in his wel- 
fare. Of Mr. Cooney the Catholic Universe says : 

Mr. Cooney has been a prominent man, and well 
deserved the confidence reposed in him. For two terms 
he served as alderman from the second ward, and was 
-president of the City Council' for three terms. In 1878 
he was appointed to fill the vacancy of County Auditor 
and occupied that position for ten months. He was 
born in Monroe, Mich., January 27, 1842, and came to 
Toledo in ’65, where he made an honorable reputation, 
and is justly esteemed for his sterling, manly qualities. 

Always prominent in affairs of the Church, he served 
as councilman for many years, until he was obliged to 
resign on account of his time being so occupied with 
business. He leaves a family of two sons and five 
daughters besides his wife, who are inconsolable over 
the loss of a devoted husband and most loving father. 
There has not been so much regret over the death of 
any one in Toledo for years as over Mr. Cooney. 

To his son James, who attended the University 
for some years, and to the bereaved family, the 
Scholastic tenders its sympathy. 



Local Items. 

— Lost — A new steel-rod umbrella with 
curved handle. Please return it to Students’ 
office.- • 

. — Never mind, Rosey. Stay here during the 
Christmas holidays, and it will be all forgotten 
before June. 

— And Bostang Brown, the deah old fellah, 
has come alone through all this beastly weatha 
to be with us again! 

— Lost. — A watch-chain and pair of nose 
glasses. Finder, please return them to H. J. 
Moorhead, Brownson Hall. 

— Students not having tickets will positively 
not. be allowed on the field during football 
games. See the treasurer, gentlemen. 

— No, gentle reader, they are not “skiving.” 
They are the new Brownson Hall faculty, 
Bruecker and McGinnis, who' are out for a 
leisure stroll. 

— Dispel your inquisitiveness, kind reader, 
Niezer sits on the top of his desk merely to 
force the cover down over his fall stock of 

— Lost— A small Rosary of brown colored 
beads to which was attached, a medal of the 
House of Loreto. Finder, please return to 
Students’ office. 

--The candidates for the Varsity Eleven 
have begun to diet themselves. They gathered 
around the training table for the first time last 
Tuesday evening. 

— “Say,” said O’Malley, and- the sun hid 
himself behind a cloud, “if the foul-tackle punt 
the goal post, how many quarter-backs does 
the line-up score?” 

— A tackling bag has been erected on the 
Brownson campus. The football men may now 
practise that difficult feature of the game with- 
out fear of a cracked skull. 

— Fox is an ardent free-silver advocate, but 
his conception of the issue is somewhat unique. 
In consequence, the boys of his table are 
manipulating wooden knives and forks. 

—The • munching of apples still continues 
with little prospect of abatement; for alas! the 
Brownsonites are now storing dozens of these 
bigj juicy spheres away into their desks. 

— He now restlessly paces the floor of his room, - 
* : Sleep cometh not, and his mind is in gloorii; - 

He tries hard to study, but knowledge comes? No, 

While Ducey’s expounding tough Blackstone below. 

— That was a mean man who asked where 
the “dummy” was when Ducey made an 
unsuccessful dive for the bag and ploughed up 
enough sod to cover the whole base - ball 

. — -“ Can ? t you fellows keep in step,” .authori- 
tatively “shouted one. of our 'hew 'coxswains 
after witnessing the flounder i ngs ! of the barsiii 

the hands of a raw crew. The waters are still 

— Messrs. Thomas O’Hara, Louis Girardi, 
Roy Crawford, and Thomas Lowery, were 
admitted to the University Stock Company. 
They will appear in a play which will be given 
by the Company about Nov. i. 

— “ I hear the University is going to pay half 
the expenses of a coach this season,” bravely 
ventured the new student from Pennsylvania; 
“ but I guess only the players will be allowed 
to ride in it.” Get up! Get up! 

— The history recitation was suddenly inter- 
rupted by the crash of a falling chair followed 
by a dull thud. Cypher then uncereriioniously 
picked himself up from the floor where he had 
unconsciously dropped while indulging in a 
peaceful slumber. . 

— The Band has now a full membership and 
all are practising earnestly. A number of the 
old men have not returned this year, but the 
new men are keeping a stiff upper lip, and the 
indications are that the Band will maintain its 
enviable reputation of former years. 

— A meeting of Company A, Iioynes’ Light 
Guard 6 :, was held last Saturday evening with 
Father Regan in the chair, but nothing of 
importance was considered. A large number 
of applications have been received, and the 
outlook for a large membership is flattering 

— Steeletto has increased his range by a 
note! Before Thursday last his laugh ran from 
minus A flat to O sharp; but one of Coxey’s 
venerable jokes on that particular , evening 
caused him to break the record with ease. 
What a fortune that very audible smile would 
be to a. comic opera star! 

— The mandolin club, bids fair to equal in 
point of excellence the splendid club of last 
year. Two rehearsals have been held thus far, 
and Prof. Preston assures us that the prospects 
are flattering. It is gratifying to know that the 
reputation of the mandolin club is to be main- 
tained notwithstanding the fact that several of 
the old members are missing. 

— A long bag, stuffed with excelsior, has been 
slung from a scaffolding on the Brownson 
campus, on which the candidates for the. Varsity 
are permitted to work off their surplus animal 
spirits every afternoon. The bag was erected 
at the suggestion of Coach Hering in order to 
give the men plenty of practice in tackling. 
An improvement has been noticed already in 
their work. . \ 

—A meeting of the. Class of ’98 was held 
Wednesday evening! .; There was a full attend- 
ance . and plenty of enthusiasm. The officers 
elected were: R. G. O’Malley, President; W. C. 
KeglerJ 1st Vice-President; S. Spalding, 2d Vice- 
President; W. F. Sheehan, Recording Secretary; 
;A. ! MacDonald, ' Corresponding. Secretary; T. 
Medley, T reasurdr ; E. Cr il ly ; Poet ; E. Mi ngey , 


6 3 

Historian; C. Piquette, Orator; W. Fitzpatrick, 
Critic. A committee was appointed to select 
class pin and colors. 

— The following schedule of games has been 
arranged by the football manager: 

Oct. 8 — College of Physicians and Surgeons, 

Oct. 15 — South Bend Athletic Club, 

Oct. 22 — Indianapolis Light Artillery, 

Oct. 31 — Albion College, 

Nov. — Lake Forest University, 

Nov. 14 — Purdue University, 

Nov. 26 — University of Indiana. 

Students who have not purchased athletic tickets 
will not be admitted to witness panics. 

— A Drama in one Basket. — (The Brownson 
goal is in danger'). Referee: — “A goal secured 
from behind the line doesn’t count.” ( The ball 
rolls towards the Carroll goal. It is thrown into 
the basket by a Brownson man standing behind 
the goal.) Referee: — “ Good! good! Score.” 
Chorus of Carrolls: — “What! You said a 
moment ago — ” Referee: — “Oh! stop kicking. 
Play ball! Hurrah for Brownson Hall!” And 
the sable curtain of night fell on the scene, 
while far away Willie’s voice was heard in 
unison with a grandfather frog cheering for 
his burg. 

— -The first regular meeting of the St. Cecilians 
was held last Wednesday evening. The follow- 
ing officers were elected: Very Rev. Andrew 
Morrissey, C. S. C., Honorary President; Rev. 
J. W. Cavanaugh, C. S. C., and Dr. Austin 
O’Malley, Literary Critics; Prof. N. A. Preston, 
Musical Director; Bro. Alexander, C. S. C., 
Promoter; Rev. James J. French, C. S. C., 
President; John Francis Fennessey, 1st Vice- 
President; Francis B. Cornell, 2d Vice-Presi- 
dent; Francis X. Druiding, Recording Secretary; 
T. V. Watterson, Jr., Corresponding Secretary; 
John V. Walsh, Treasurer; Charles D. Wells, 
Historian; Joseph J. Murray, 1st Censor; John 
Morrissey, 2d Censor; James G. Taylor, Ser- 
geant-at-Arms. Over twenty members were 
•present. A programme was arranged for the 
next meeting. 

— Students in Carroll Hall get more than an 
average value for the money they invest in an 
athletic ticket. They pay only two dollars a 
year, and for this sum they have the use of 
football apparel, and are furnished footballs, 
enjoy the privilege of witnessing seven games 
of football with outside elevens, are furnished 
with a ball for basket ball, have the use of a 
punching bag, are given the use of balls, bats, 
uniforms, bases, and have entrance to all the 
baseball games which Varsity plays with other 
colleges. And yet there are some chaps in 
tha.t Hall who are behind in paying their dues! 
Think of witnessing, a football game for. four- 
teen cents! The Carrolls enjoy that privilege. 
Why, in other institutions the admission fee to 
a game is one dollar. , . 

— Bones, Steeletto, and Boru got their heads 
together! last -week and organized an American 

branch of the French Academy. They have 
been waiting ever since that wise council 
adjourned for the other thirty-seven members 
to come in, but so far nobody has given any 
sign of a yearning to join them. Anybody 
is eligible. All. that is necessary is to supply 
your own sword and the green knickerbockers 
and cocked hat. If you intend to become one 
of them, gentle reader, be sure to get the right 
shade of green. Bones had his outfit made 
from the cloth of the Sorin Plall billiard table 
There are several more tables in Brownson 
and Carroll Halls, so there should' not be any- 
one without the official uniform. At its next 
meeting the Academy intends to crown Bertha 
M. Clay’s lastest novel, “Her Girlhood’s Lover,” 
and all of her poetical works. . 

— A resident of Sorin Hall ..received, his 
trunk, a severe shock, and about forty yards of 
oil-cloth one day this week. He had been 
expecting the trunk for some time, and some 
oil-cloth, too; but not forty yards. Hence the 
shock. During one of his recent trips to town 
he ordered a piece of oil-cloth about a yard 
square; but the dealer, either through a mis- 
take or a desire to make a larger sale, sent 
forty yards. The purchaser had intended to 
return the extra thirty-nine yards, of course, 
but he cannot now. While absent from his 
apartments yesterday afternoon some bright 
youths tacked two or three layers on the floor, 
made pillow-cases and bed-clothes for him 
with a few more yards, and decorated rthe walls 
with graceful festoons of the remainder. Now 
he spends his days and nights in the law r 
library trying to find out who will have to pay 
for the oil-cloth. 

— In the report last week of the ’97 Class 
meeting one important business transaction was 
unfortunately omitted. We'beg the ’97’s pardon. 
It was Mr. Sullivan’s motion to the effect 
that the members of the Class should raise 
full beards and moustaches before June (June 
’97, of course). This motion was so strongly 
objected to by some of the younger members, 
on the ground that they had so many classes 
to carry that they could not give the matter 
the proper attention, that Mr. Sullivan omitted 
the full beard clause and made it simply 
moustache. . The motion in this form was 
seconded by Mr. Lantry. Now those young 
men will have troubles of their own. Think 
of Mr. Miller, for instance, when the soup 
comes his way next Friday: Mr. Miller is 

fond of oyster soup. too. Then there are other 
members of- the Class who could not grow a 
. moustache if all the porous plasters in creation 
were placed on their upper lips to draw the 
hair out. • And in the meantime the hair invig- 
orater manufacturers are getting rich enough 
to join the gold party. 

-—Once more the Good, the True and the 
.Beautiful'has refuted his accuser and brought 
consternation unto his enemies. Only the other 

6 4 


day, when Wurzer accused him of courting fame, 
the orator of Bullit County rose to his feet in 
reply: “ Fame, sir? ” lie hissed — and his finely 
chiseled nostrils dilated until they swallowed 
up his mustache — “ what is fame? It is a 
shaved pig with a greased tail, which slips 
through the hands of thousands, and then is 
accidentally caught by some lucky fellow that 
happens to hold on to it. I let the greasy- 
tailed quadruped go by me without an effort 
to clutch it, sir.” 

— Under the able tutorship of Mr. Hering, 
the football team is fast getting into shape. 
With every practice, the improvement is notice- 
able, and if the good work keeps up, we will 
unfurl our colors triumphantly on Thursday 
afternoon. The men all evince a disposition to 
learn, and seem willing to get down to har4 
work. This is as it should be. There is one 
fault, however, which should be corrected 
immediately — and that is too much talk while 
on the field. Systematic and effective work 
cannot be accomplished without the cessation 
of this hindrance. Every man should attend 
strictly to the duties of his own position and 
pass no comments on the plays of his neighbor. 
Let the coach do the talking. 

— While the men were resting and practising 
signals preparatory to another line-up, Corby 
was told by the coach to give the reserves a code 
of signals which would not be known to those 
who were playing with Varsity. Three of those 
who had been playing with the reserves were 
resting on the side-lines. “Oh! go in and play sub 
on Corby's team,” sneeringly said a bystander. 
The remark was a mean one; and but for the fact 
that the speaker forms one of many “dogs in 
the manger” he would have been treated with 
the contempt he deserves. If men are willing to 
go on the field, taking their chances of getting 
a place on the team, and practising hard that 
Notre Dame may have a representative eleven, 
they should not be sneered at by a set of miser- 
able fault-finders. 

— There are few coaches as energetic in their 
work as Hering. He not only spends the 
greater part of “ rec ” hours teaching them how 
to play, but takes part with them, working 
harder than many of the men. It is a pleasure 
to find that the candidates respond to his call, 
and seem anxious to learn. The team is not 
announced yet, although the men are working 
by signals. On Thursday they lined up as 
follows: Mueller and Lyons, centre; Rosenthal, 
and Cavanagh, guards; Schillo and Hesse, 
tackles; Bauwens, Hay, Mullen and Murphy, 
ends; Taylor, quarter; O’Hara, Palmer and 
Silver, halves; O’Hara and Mullen, full. The 
practice was hard and began to tell on the 
reserves, many of whom left the field before 
it was finished. The reserves should understand 
that no one is sure of a position on the team. 
They ; should, therefore, get out- for practice 

Roll of Honor. 


Messrs. Arce, Atherton, Barry, Bryan, Bennett, Byrne, 
Brennan, Confer, Costello, Crilly, Delaney, Fagan, Golden, 
Kegler, Lantry, Mingey, McDonough, Miller, Medley, 
McNamara, O’Hara, R. O’Malley, Piquette, Pulskamp, 
- Palmer, Rosenthal, Reilly, Reardon, Sheehan, Steele, 
Spaulding, Sullivan, Steiner, Weaver. 


Messrs. Armijo, Arizpe, W. Berry, G. Berry,. Baab, J. 
Brown, Blanchard, Brucker, Barry, R. Brown, E. Brown, 
Burke, Cull inane, Crowley, Cavanagh, Conway, Crowdus, 
Campbell, Carney, Desmond, Donovan, J. Daley, Dreher, 
Dukette, M. Daley, Dowd, Dncey, Fadley, Fetherstone, 
Fitzgerald, Franey, Farrell, Frazer, M. Flanigan, Fox, 
Follen, C. Flanigan, Foulks, Fehr, Falvey, Guilfoyle, R. 
Garza, Gilbert, Grady, Girardi, C. Garza, Hartung, Hay, 
Hessel, Hayes, Hoban, Hagerty, Haley, Hermann, E, 
Hake, Hengen, L. Hake, Hanhauser, Jelonak, Kidder. 
Kraus, Kearney, Konzen, Kuerze, I. Kaul, F. Kaul, 
Koehler, Lyons, Long, Lutz, Landers, Lowery, Mc- 
Donald, McKenzie, McConn, McCormack, McMillan, 
McGinnis, Massey, Martin, Miller, Maurus, Monahan, 
Mulcrone, Morris, Morrisson, Moorehead, Meagher, 
Meyers, Murphy, Neizer, F. O’Shaughnessy, O’Fhua, 
M. O'Shaughnessy, O’Brien, Pickett, Pendleton, Paras, 
Putnam, Pirn, Powell, Quandt, Quinn, Reed, Reinhard, 
Rahe, Singler, Schulte, Shillington, Stulfauth, Smoger, 
San Roman, Scott, Speake, Summers, Spaulding. J. 
Tuohy, Tong, Taylor, C. Tuhey, Thiele Thams, Tom- 
linson, Toba, Voght, Welker, Wieczorke, Wheadock, 
Wimberg, Wilson, Wade, Whitehead, Wigg, O. Zaehnle, 
E. Zaehnle. 


Messrs. Abrahams, P. Armijo, R. Armijo, Beardslee, 
Breslin, Becker, Burns, Burke, Berger, Bebont, Cowie, 
Cornell, Coquijlard, Conklin, T. Condon, Curtis, Corby, 
Devine, Drejer, Druiding, Dellone, Dinnen, Darst, 
Dugas, Ellwanger, Elliott, F. Ward, A, Fish, Flynn, 
Frank, Fennessey, Funke, Foley Girsch, Gimbel, Gros- 
sart, Houck, Hagerty, Hoban, Herron, Hawkins, John- 
' son, P. Kuntz, J. Kuntz, Kieffer, G. Kasper, Kirkland, 
Kiley, Klein, Kelly, Kilgallen, Krug, Land, Lyle, Leach, 
McIntyre, J. McMahon, O. McMahon, McCarthy, Mc- 
Elroy, McNamara, McMaster. McDonald, MeCallen, T. 
Mulcare, J. Mulcare, Morgan, Mooney, Moss, Moore, 
Merz, Moxley, R. Murray, J. Murray, T. Murray, Maher, 
Meagher, Morrissey, Noonan, Newell, Nolan, J. Naugh- 
ton, D. Naughton, T. Naughton, O’Malley, F. O’Brien, G. 
O’Brien, 'O’Neill, Pyle,Pulford, Padden, Powers, Putnam, 
Pohlman, Quinlan, Richon, Reuss, Swan, J. Scherrer, 
W. Scherrer, Schaffhauser, Sexton, Shiels, Sample, 
Sullivan, Shillington, Schmidtt, E. Sheekey, J. Sheekey, 
Selvin, Shea, Sanford, Stengel, J. Taylor, Waite, J. Ward, 
Wilson, Wagonman, Wells, Walsh, Watterson, Ward, 
St. Clair. 


Masters Atkinson, Arnold, Abercrombie, Abrahams, 
Allyn, Butler, Bosworth, C. Bode, F. Bode, Blanchfield, 
Beardslee, Cowie, Clarke, Casparis, Cressy, Cunnea, 
Cotter, Coquillard, Davis, Dorian, Dugas, Ebbert, Frwin, 
Engelmann, Frost, Fetter, Freeman, Franey. Griffith, 
Graham, Hall, Hart, Hubbard, Kasper, Kelly, Lovell, 
Lawton, P. Manion, E. Manion, McMaster, E. McCarthy, 
G. McCarthy, L. McBride, P. McBride, J. McBride, W. 
McBride, M. McMahon, W. McMahon, J. McMahon, 
McConnell, J. McGeeney, E. McGeeney, Paul, Philips, 
G. Quertimont, E. Quertimont, Reese, Reynolds, Spillard, 
Steele, Strauss, Shields, Terhune, R. Van Sant, L: Van 
Sant, Welch, Wilde, F. Weidman, G. Weidman, Burton,