• (bije *
Dot re Dame Scholastic
• DI5CE* QUASI - SEMPER- VICTUEV/5- VIVE* QV/ASI -GRAS* MOEITVR\/S •
Vol. XLI. NOTRE DAME, INDIANA, Christmas, 1907. No. 14.
The Angels Message.
PETER E. HEBERT, ’ 10 .
'T'HE sun has set behind yon mountain’s crest ;
The din of traffic’s hushed,— fair daj r takes flight;
Unwonted stillness reigns; mankind’s at rest, —
’Tis silent n'ght.
Ere long through starry skies, o’er snowy plains,
Through hill and dale is heard an Angel's voice
Proclaiming peace on earth in glad refrains, —
All men rejoice.
Soon gentle dawn in saffron .cloak appears;
With rev’rence mankind hails the sacred morn:
Soft echoes answer,— joyful are tie cheers;
The Christ is born..
A Bundle of Christmas Legends.
WILLIAM P. LENNARTZ, ’OS.
^.NY are the legendary tales
that cluster around the event
of the Saviour’s birth. That
they are only legends, and as
such can not be accepted as
truths we must concede; but
there is in them something of
the old spirit of Christmas,
and hence a brief review and somewhat
detailed account of some of them will per-
haps revive happy remembrances of past
These legends or superstitions, as they are
sometimes called, date back to the dawn
of the first Christmas when angelic voices
chanted above the fields of Bethlehem the
Gloria in excelsis and announced to the
shepherds the birth of the Infant Saviour.
The appearance of the wonderful and
miraculous star forms the theme of several
Christmas legends. From an old commen-
* tary on the Gospel of St. Matthew the
following account relating to the story of
the Magi and the appearance of the star
is gathered :
In an eastern land near the ocean, there
dwelt a people who possessed a writing
inscribed with the name of Seth, which
contained the account of the star that w as
to appear. “Twelve of the more learned
men of that country' — had disposed them-^
selves to watch for that star; and when
any of them died, his son or his kindred
was appointed in his place. These, there-
fore, year by year, after the threshing out
of the corn, ascended into a certain high
mountain, called Mons Victoralis,’. having
in it a certain cave in the ; rocky most
grateful and pleasant, with fountains and
choice trees into which ascending and
bathing themselves they prayed and praised
God in silence three days. And this they
did, generation after generation, \vatching
ever, lest peradventure that star of beati-
tude should arise, upon themselves until it
appeared descending on the mountain,
having within itself the form of a man-
child, and above it the similitude of a
cross; and it spake to them, and taught
them, and commanded them that they should
go into Judea.” For two years they followed
the miraculous star moving before them,
and during that time they r wanted neither
food nor drink- According to another
account the star at last sank into a spring
at Bethlehem w’here it still may be seen,
but only by r pure maidens.
When the three Wise Men arrived in Judea
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
we are told that they first sought out Herod
who was then ruler of that country, and
inquired of him where the Messiah was to
be born. Thev related to him the wonderful
appearance of the star which had guided
them thus far and which, according to the
legend, was still visible to them but not
to Herod. Herod was incredulous of their
story, and demanded as a proof that the
cock which lay before them at table should
rise up and crow thrice. As a testimony
to the truthfulness, of their story the cock
immediately arose and crowded as he had
There is a beautiful legend associated with
the flight of Joseph and Mary and the divine
Child into Egypt. As they journey onward
to the land of their exile the wild beasts
come out of the forests to paj- homage to
First came the lovely lion
Which Jesus’ grace did spring,
And of the wild beasts in the field
The lion shall be the Icing.
Resuming their journey they^ approach a
field where a husbandman is planting his
seed for the harvest. At Jesus’ word the
seed which has just been sown springs up
and bears ripened grain. Herod who is still
in pursuit passes . by the same field and
inquires of the husbandman if certain
travelers have passed that way. He points
to the ripened grain. Herod believes that
three-quarters of a year have elapsed since
their flight and he returns, to Judea.
Many of these legends have been preserved
for us in lyric form. A Christmas carol
called the “Cherry Tree Carol,” contains
another legend of the Holy Family. The
carol relates that the Virgin and her spouse
wander of an evening through an orchard
where stands a cherry tree heavily laden
with fruit. The Virgin requests her husband
to pick some cherries for her. He refuses
“with words most unkind.” The unborn
Saviour within Mary’s womb directs her
to approach the tree.
Qo to the tree, Mary,
And it shall bow to thee,
And the highest branch of- all
Shall bow to Mary’s knee.
She approaches the tree which bows to her
at her request. St. Joseph now perceives his
unkindness and invokes the Virgin’s pardon.
A quaint old English legend contains a
wonderful story concerning a thorn-tree that
every year at Christmastide would bud
and blossom as if it were spring. Joseph of
Arimathea, when he went as apostle to the
inhabitants of Great Britain took with him
a small band of missionaries. After a peril-
ous journey they disembarked at the foot of
a hill which is still known as Weary-All Hill.
The native Britons opposed the landing of
the missionaries, and St. Joseph in order to
gain their favor performed a miracle. Taking
his staff, which was a dry thorn - stick, he
stuck it in the hillside and made , over it the
Sign of the Cross-, saying: “By the grace of
Him who for us men hung on the tree of
Calvary, wearing the thorny crown, I bid
thee be as they were wont to be in the
bloom of spring.” The staff grew suddenly
into a fragrant tree filling the air with an
odor sweeter than sunny May or June. This
legendary tree has even received an historical
setting, for a flat, white stone now marks
the spot in Glastonbury^ where the tree is
supposed to have stood.
Not men only but animals also figure in
the events that compose these Christmas
legends. According to one old legend on
this night the bees are said to sing, the
cattle to kneel, and the sheep .on Judean
hillsides to form in procession in commem-
oration of the Angel’s annunciation of the
birth of the Saviour. Our own American
Indians knew something concerning this
legend. There is an authentic account of an
Indian who was observed to be stealthily
creeping through the forest one wintry,
Christmas night in order- to see the deer
kneel as he had been told they would do.
We are loth to say good-by to the joyous
time of Christmas which comes but once a
year, and whose departure leaves us once
more to resume the everyday cares and
duties which for one brief day we have
The Magi and the Star.
GEORGE J. FINNIGAN, ’10.
r pHE dark clouds burst; a brilliant star
Illumes , the eastern sky,
While o’er the hills from lands afar .
The, three Wise Men. draw. nigh.
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
A Winter Night.
FRANCIS T. MAHER, ’OS.
barn; or perhaps some farmer would show
himself out of doors for a few moments,
though the cold nipping air generally decided
him to let his boys do the chores for the
~ The sun which had appeared only at
UT among the coun- intervals during the day, showed his hectic
try cross-roads the visage above the tree-tops, grew purple with
dull, cheerless light the cold, and faded into the grey blur of
of a winter’s day the sky. Over the white fields, desolate as
faded gradually into any desert of sand, a solitary crow, with
the duller and moe monotonous “caw, caw,” flapped his way
cheerless light of a to his nest in the woods. Night settled
winter’s evening. On all sides, as far as one down like a pall, leaving a dreary prospect
could see stretched a vast waste of snow for the belated traveler — a cold, searching
that tired the eye with its blinding white- wind, a wailing in the tree-tops, and a few
ness, and wearied the mind with its dim stars.
monotony. A huhsed silence like the quiet- Bright lights telling of the interior comfort
ness of death hung over field and wood, and good cheer shone out into the night
Up in the tree-tops the wind crooned a from the windows of every farm house,
low, sad requiem for the summer flowers, They gave intelligence that winter, though
the birds, the fluttering leaves, and the tyrant of the outdoor world, was powerless
soft breezes. The luxuriance of spring, the to chill the spirits of the family circle
ripeness of summer, and the glad fulfilment gathered about the supper-table or the
of autumn were gone from the scene; only warm fireside. The farmer with his wife
winter was there— Old Winter, the miser, and their sturdy sons and buxom daughters
giving us a chilly carpet of snow in place . rejoiced that they were able to resist the
of our flowers, and the harsh-voiced winds siege of winter behind their ! rude but sub-
in lieu of bird-songs. stantial walls, with the bountiful stores
The roads were almost as much deserted laid up in seasonable time. With songs
as the woods for, seemingly, the people had and stories, apples and cider, they passed
learned from the squirrels and other little the evening pleasantly enough. Now and
animals the wisdom of staying under cover, then, when a~ lull came in the talk, they
Now and then a cutter, flew by, or a bob could hear the storm howling outside, and
passed driven hurriedly; but there was no the savage wind tearing around the house,
laughter, no flashing mirth from its assailing every loose window and shutter
oqcupants ; they were not out for the in his effort to effect an entrance ; he roared
pleasure of it, apparently, and sought only down the chimney, but the fire, like a huge,
to reach home as quickly as possible. faithful watch-dog, roared back at him and
How different were these same scenes a drove him off. When bedtime came they
few months before; then the evening hour, all retired to rest unmoved by the wrath
was the most delightful of the whole day ; of the elements except for a feeling of thank-
when the setting sun looked back with a fulness for a warm bed and a comfortable
mild, benignant gaze over the earth that it home. And all night long outside, beneath
had gladdened all the day with its light and the dim, fitful light of the moon, the snow-
warmth; when from all directions came sprites danced madly in the air keeping
faint echoes, borne upon the breeze — the time with the mournful chant of the wind,
lowing of cattle, the barking of dogs and The shifting snow-drifts piled higher and
the laughter of happy children, that blended higher until they peeped in over the window-
together sweeter than any song. But now sill at the slumbering mortals who slept
little life was visible except in this barn lot in utter oblivion of. the incantations of the
or that, where might be seen a boy strug- wind, of the charmed dance of the snow-
gling manfully with the wood pile, or a girl sprites, and of the multitudinous mysteries
with clattering pails going toward the cow of the winter’s night. .
212 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
At Midnight Mass.
EDWARD I\ CLEARY, ’00.
A HUSH is heard ; a thousand lips now cease
The low, soft, murmur that was breathed in prayer.
A silence reigns ; ; throughout the land is peace,
The breath of incense stirs the midnight air.
A thousand . tapers flicker all around
The Christmas manger where the Infant lies;
The world is : filled with light and welcome sound
Of music that subdues the sinner’s sighs.
Things Will Happen.
ROBERT L. BRACKEN, ’OS.
‘HE young lady sitting next the
window had been watching the.
telegraph poles and fences fly
by. the train for the past tv\ o
: ; hours. Now and then a horse
: and sometimes a bunch of cattle
to find something to eat in a
barren pasture, would race past the window
after the poles and fences. Once a man with
a gun on his shoulder, hunting for rabbits,
perhaps, darted by r . She had been looking
at the earth and its objects appearing to
race past the -train window for so long
that she was fully convinced that it was
a fact, when a young man, saying by r way
of apology, “I am frightfully tired standing
up, and I trust ymi will not mind if I use
half 3 r our seat,” seated himself beside her.
It was easy,, for them both to begin a
conversation, and quite naturally they fell
to talking .about everything from books to
football. The j'oung lady was on her. way
home irom.fschool to spend her Christmas
vacation and the 3*oung man might have
been doing.. the.- same thing, but in appear-
ance he was one of those young . fellows
who might-have been doing most an3’thing.
He looked tyoung and old together, and
had a look about him that permitted one
to classify him any way he pleased:
From football they drifted onto the subject
of life, and discussed it very knowinglyy —
for it is only the young who believe them-
selves capable of that— and finally landed
on the often -discussed and much -abused
problem of love. Just as the train was
pulling out of a little eountry^ town where
it had stopped for water, they both noticed
a 3 r oung man outside offering to assist a
pretty girl across a mudd\ r path. They
were evidently strangers, judging from the
manner in which the man offered his assist-
ance. Turning to the girl the man said:
“There it.is, you see — all accidental.” Con-
tinuing he explained : “As some one has said,
things happen or they 'don’t; A man happens
to turn a corner just in time to see a prett3 r
woman thrown out of a runaway carriage—
perhaps straight into his arms,— he picks her
up and carries her home, or to some conve-
nient place. Later he calls to inquire about
her welfare; in short, that is the beginning;
Result: a love affair, and there 3'ou are— and
all by accident.” Fully convinced that he
was right and satisfied that he had proven
it, the young man settled himself more com-
fortably^ in his seat and waited to hear
what the girl had to sa3 r .
“So 3 r ou think,” she asked, “that it is
all accidental, this fallingin love: And that
the stor3' taught us b\ r our mothers, that
some place in the world there is one man
w'ho was born for each of us and that at
the proper time, and under proper conditions
the affair will work out .by- its own accord,
is all wrong?”
“Yes,” he said, “there is nothing in that
storv". It isn’t arranged, or it doesn’t work
out; it just happens.”
“But,’.’ exclaimed the girl, “what becomes
of those who are not so fortunate as to be
concerned in an accident? You know we
can’t all be in a runaway and thrown at
the head of some nice man. Nor can - we
all be saved. from death by drowning by a
brave young man. - What then becomes of
a girl w'ho has never had any of these things
happen to her,- who lives perhaps in some
particular place, because she was born
there?” arid then she added with a pretty
smile, “some place where things never
happen to an\' one— is there no love in the
world for her?” :r
“Certainty there is,” answered the man,
“plenty of it. In that same place, there
always happens to live a young man using
up his share of life there. One day he
happens to look up as she is passing, or
something like that,' and it occurs to
him that she is . pretty, or if not pretty,
1 •?-*»*»! Wfel'J
NOTRE ' DAME - SCHOLASTIC
there is something about her that he never
noticed before — of course, you know, there
may be nothing about her to notice, but
he will happen to think so, and there you
• “Then,” said the girl, “suppose this:
Suppose there was a young girl carefully
guarded by her mother, father, brothers,
. in fact, all her relations. She never went
any place alone ; she lived - in a city. If
she went to a dance, a party, any place,
the list was carefully looked over before
she was permitted to go. Admit then, for
the sake of argument, that there couldn’t
anj'thing happen to her. Then to make your
theor\ r appear more real, but in fact harder,
send her away to school ; send her to a
convent as I was. For instance, I have
not been to a dance — in fact I have not
been any. place since I left home, save
perhaps an occasional gathering of girls.
When I reach home, as I will to-night, my
father and brother will meet me at the
station. During my stay I will be tenderly
guarded as before. What chance then, I ask,
does a girl like me stand of having any-
thing happen to her”’
While she had been talking, the man had
v. atched the pretty mouth grow firm with
earnestness and then relax into a smile as
she had spoken of the occasional gathering
of girls while in school; he also had noted
the loose brown hair as it fell over her little
ear; and her long shapely hands as they
.lay folded in her lap. Growing impatient
for his answer — as she was sure the case
she had supposed could not be, answered
according to his theory — she turned toward
him and started to say something.
“You can — ” and then she stopped.
Realizing for the first time that she did
not even know his name, or in fact any-
thing about him, and that she had been -
talking to him and sharing her troubles
with him, occasioned her a most violent
start. The pretty composed face colored
deeply and turning she looked out of the
window. Taking her hand, which had
dropped by her side, ' the man said:
“ Your name and address L know, for I
read it on y r our suit case before 1 sat down'.
On Christmas Day I will be in Wayne and
find some one to properly introduce us.”
And this was an accident.
At Christ’s Birth.
FRANCIS T. MAHER, ’OS.
'pil H hoarse north-wind that with the. billows wild
Shouted in hoist’ rous play through: ages long.
Once hushed his voice to accents low and mild,
To croon the Child-God’s first-known eradle-song.
Christmas in the Thirteenth Century.
JAMES J. OUIXLAX, ’OS.
IX or seven centuries ago, before
wealth and prosperity, tecame
almost the sole ends for which
this blinded age would have, us
strive; long before the sordid love of gain
had crowded from the hearts all those finer
and nobler sentiments of beauty and sim-
plicity, and dulled the mind to all the higher
aspirations of the soul, — in those glorious
day’s of Christianity, during the thirteenth
century, when religion was in the brightest
splendor of its power, the Church had far
more holydaA'S of obligation than now,
which renewed in Christian hearts the spirit
of faith, by commemorating, weekly or
monthly, some of the great events in the
. But heresies and the coldness of indifference,
which has chilled the spirit of faith in the
breasts of men, have swept away one by
one those days which w ere held sacred for
repose and praj’er, until now we have but
few great feast-days in the calendar of the
Church, and among these, Christmas holds
a foremost place. ~
Let us turn for a few moments to the
records of the thirteenth century and see
with what inspiring ceremonies the Birth-
day of Our Saviour was made sacred.
During that period the Church stood forth
as the beacon light of civilization and the
store-house of learning. Gothic architecture,
which was then at its highest;, painting
and, sculpture, at that time devoted almost
exclusively to religious subjects; poetry and
music, so beautifully adapted and sung in
all the great cathedrals and churches of
the time, — these, I say, united to render
the outward celebration of the mysteries
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
of this great festival more sublime and
faith-inspiring than anything that has ever
been witnessed in the history of succeeding
In order the . better to appreciate the
splendor of . the religious observances, we
will spend the night in one of the great
cities of France— let it be Paris. As we take
our wa}'- through the narrow streets on our
road to the cathedral, the streets are at
first deserted ; but every window is a-gleam
with happiness, and around every fireplace
the little ones are seated listening to the
stories that grandpa is telling. But listen!
’Tis a familiar sound that fills the air. The
sweet tones of the cathedral chimes begin
to announce the approaching birth-hour of
Mary’s Son. Responsive to the summons
we betake ourselves to the cathedral.
As we enter the doorway the splendor
and magnificence of art and music begins
to dawn upon us. The" white-robed choir
are chanting, iri beautiful Gregorian strains,
the Matin hours. But these grand melodies
are not more sublime than the wonderful
art, the “frozen music,” which gives a true
religious tone to the entire structure. As
the last notes of the Te Deum die away,
an altar boy, representing an angel, comes
out among the singers and with a sweet
voice chants the angelic message, — “Fear
not: for behold, I bring you good tidings
of great joy, that shall be to all the people :
for this day is born to you a Saviour, who
is Christ the Lord, in the city of David. And
this shall be a sign unto you: you shall
find an infant wrapped in swaddling-clothes,
and laid in a manger.” Then from a high
gallery, as from heaven, ring out iri children’s
voices, the angel’s greeting, “ Glory to God
in the highest, and on earth peace to men
of good will.”
The congregation listens with increasing
fervor and devotion, as they see, slowly
advancing up the nave of the church, a num-
ber of shepherds, singing as they ' advance
in search of the new-born King. It is a
beautiful hymn, and how w r ell suited to the
occasion are the thoughts it expresses:
Peace on earth, is announced, and on earth glory,
- ; - earth is reconciled through divine grace.
The Mediator God-nian descends amongst His own,
- that guilty man may ascend to lost joys.
Let us go' over, let us see this Word that is come to pass.
Let us go over that we maj- learn what has been
In Judaea an Infant cries ;
An Infant, the Salvation of His people,
Efy whom the ancient enemy of the world foresees
He must be warred upon.
Let us approach, let us approach the cradle of our
And let us sing: “Praise to the fruitful virgin.”
The shepherds advance toward the crib
near which a few women are watching.
Priests meet them and ask them whom
they seek, to which they reply that they
seek “Christ the Lord, an Infant wrapped
in swaddling-clothes ; ” at which words the
women draw aside the curtain, which has
hung across the front of the crib, showing
to the shepherds the Infant Christ, lying in
a manger. On seeing the Infant and Its
Mother, the shepherds break forth in song:
Hail, 0 Virgin incomparable! remaining a virgin,
Tliou hast brought forth the Son of God, begotten
of His Father before all ages.
Now we adore Him formed in the flesh of His Mother.
0 Mary ! purify us from all stain of sin ; our destined
course on earth so dispose that thy Son may grant
us to enjoy His blessed vision.
Then turning to the choir they sing, —
“Now we truly know that Christ is born on
, earth, let all sing of Him with the prophet.”
Whereupon the Mass begins, and the choir
intones the Introit: “The Lord has said to
me, Thou art my Son; this day I have
With all the solemnity of adoration the
Mass is concluded and Lauds are chanted.
The ceremonies are fittingly closed by the
choir singing this solemn antiphon : “ Behold,
all things are accomplished that were
announced by the angel concerning the
Such, in brief, is the way that Christmas
was celebrated in the grand cathedrals and
churches of France by. the Christians of
the thirteenth century; such, at least as
far as can be gleaned from the office books
of that period, were the pious festivities
that adorned the celebration of Christmas
Eve. And however sublime these services,
as recorded, must have been, we may be
sure that many beautiful little details,
which must have been attendant on the
performance of the religious drama, were
left unwritten and have perished in the
uncertain hands of tradition.
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
HARRY A. LEDWIDGE, ’ 09 . •
CERENE and calm across the heaped up snow
We watch the argent splendor of His natal star
Light up the path down which His feet must go,
And glorify his Golgotha afar.
A Light in the Darkness.
YARNUAI A. PARISH, ’ 09 .
0! ma — a — a, come up here quick,
The mother went up-stairs to
little Tedclie’s bedroom, and as
she stepped into the chamber
with a lamp in her hand, her
little son stuck his head out from under
“What’s the matter, Ted?” asked the
mother as she sat on the bed beside her boy.
“ I saw a light over there in the comer,”
he gasped in a breathless voice.
“What kind of a light?”
“Oh! I don’t know; it looked jest like
somebody was spittin’ sparks out a his
“Out of whose mouth?” inquired the
“Hisn, I do’ know who he is. I’m afwaid
to stay here alone. Won’t you stay with
“Yes, dear, if you humy and go to sleep.”
The mother laid her head on the pillow
beside her little son.
“What was that light, mama?”
“I don’t know, Ted. It must have been
one of the street lamps shining through the
“No, it wasn’t. Them lamps don’t shine
like they was spittin’ fire.”
“It must have been the light from the
street shining on the brass bedpost, Ted.”
“No, it wasn’t. I kinda think it was one
of them ghostes what Uncle Tom tells about,
or maybe it’s one of them bulls what Jason
drove. They blew fire wight out of their
noses. Uncle Tom told me.”
“Well, Ted, you can see for yourself that
there isn’t a thing over in the comer, neither
a ghost nor one of Jason’s bulls.”
“Yes, mama, but them ghostes don’t stay,'
when you bring a light in on ’em.”
“But, dear, it couldn’t have got out of
the room without passing me in the door.”
“Nope, Unele Tom says they ken go wight
thoo the walls.”
“Well, you must go to sleep now, Ted.
I have to go down-stairs.”
The little fellow turned over on his side
and closed his eyes.' But half a minute
had not passed before he looked up at
his mother and said: “Mama, won’t you
stay with me awhile after I’m to sleep?”
“Yes, dear, if you hurry and get to sleep.”
He turned over on his side again and
once more closed his eyes, but only for a
few seconds. Then he asked his mother if
she would not leave the lamp in his room
when she left. After all his requests were
granted, the little fellow finally fell into the
sound sleep of childhood.
“I don’t know what that boy could have
seen that scared him,” said Mrs. Hutton to
her husband, as she entered the sitting room.
“Well, you know what vivid imaginations
children have, don’t you?” replied Mr.
Heretofore Ted had always manifested
considerable bravery for a boy of six. He
was always willing to go to sleep without
a lamp in his room, so long as his door
was open, so the rays from the hall light
could strengthen his courage. But for over
a month from this night, Ted insisted upon
having a lamp in his room. At last, after
his courage had been restored to its original
strength, he consented to have the light put
out after he got in bed.
About five weeks after resuming his old
practice of going to sleep without a light
in his room, again it happened, as before, .
that Ted called to his mother to come
up-stairs quick, and again she did as before.
After quieting her son and finally getting
him to sleep, Mrs. Hutton went down into
the sitting-room. t
“What do you suppose it is, Frank, that
Ted sees? This is the second time he has
seen it. He say^ it looks just like it did
“You mean it’s the second time he thought
he saw it.”
“Well, that may be true, for I don’t see
for the life of me what he could have seen,
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
if he did see anything. There is absolutely
nothing - in the corner that would .make a
light,” expressed Mrs. Hutton.
“I bet I saw somfin last night what you
never seen, Willie,” said Ted to his play-
mate next day. “Do you remember them
bulls what- breaved fire out of' their noses,
what Uncle Toni told 3'ou and me about
“Well, one of ’em was up in my bedroom
“Huh, do you think I believe that? Your
uncle said that story happened a long, long
time ago. : Oh, a million years, and them
bulls is all dead by now.”
“Yes,” replied Ted, “but them wasn’t
regular natural bulls, and they might not
“Well, I don’t believe 3 r ou seen ’em aiy-
how, even if they ain’t dead.”
“.I ken pwoove it. Mama was there.
Come and we’ll ask her.”
“ Well, did 3 r ou see the bull with your
own eyes?” asked Willie.
“Nope, but I seen ’em.breave.”
“Huh, I don’t believe it, Teddie'.”
“Well, come on then, and we’ll go in and
Ted. took Willie into the kitchen with him
to get Mrs. Hutton to certify his statement.
“ Mama, didn’t I see somfin breaving fire
in my room last night?”
“W r ell, you' said you did, darling. I don’t
know whether 3'ou did or not.” -
“A — a — a, Teddie, you see,” sneered Willie.
“Well, mama, can’t Willie stay all night
with me to see if he can see it?” .
But before the mother had a chance to
answer, Willie' replied, “Nope; I don’t want
to see any bulls breathen fire, even if they,
is in your room.” , y
Again for nearly a month Ted had to have
a light in his room until he had gone to
sleep. And - again his courage grew . until,
at length, he o^ce more consented Ter have
the light Taken from his room as soon as
lie was in bed. . y fy- y
All went well until Christmas Eve. Ted
went to bed early, so Santa Claus could:
hurry up and come. But nervous and excited
by the occasion, the boy was unable to go
to sleep. He rolled around on his bed, think-
ing of naught but Santa Glaus. At last, just
as his e3 r es were about to close, he saw
again the strange light in the dark.
“Ma! ma — a — a!” -
“Well,” replied the mother’s gentle voice
from the foot of the stairs. .
“Come here, ma.”
Mrs. ' Hutton went up and again found
Ted with his head under the covers.
“ Well, what’s the matter this time?”
she said. “ What have you seen, Ted ? Has
Santy been around?”
“Nope, but that light is over in that
corner again.” '
“Perhaps it was the headlight on Santy ’s
sleigh that you saw,” suggested' the mother.
“It was that same light what I seen
befo, mama.” : -
“lam going to put out the lamp and see
if I can see that peculiar light.”
“Oh, don’t, mama; don’t put out the
“ Well, I’ll stay right here beside you, dear,
so you needn’t be afraid. I’ll just turn
the light down so it’s perfectly dark. Then
when that strange thing appears, we’ll turn
the light up quick and catch it.”
“The mother sat there in the dark on
the side of the bed, talking to her little son
and caressing his locks.
“Say, mama,. if you see that thing breaven
fire, will you tell Willie about it, so he won’t
think I’ve been tellin’ him things what ain’t
so? He jest laughs evwy time I tell him
about seeing the light in the corner.” -
“Yes, dear. If I see the bull breathing
fire, or the ghost, or even the fire alone,
I’ll tell Willie, so he won’t think you have
been telling him fibs.”
“He jest makes me mad, mama. He
laughs at me evwy time I tell him about
it. But he’s kinda fwaid to sleep with me
jest the same when I asked him to come
and see for his self. There it is, ma! there
it is! See it! See it!”
Sure enough, over in the corner where
the child pointed, faint sparks were flying,
not , only flying but cracking, too. Mrs.
Hutton turned up the light.
In the big chair upholstered with hair-
cloth was the cat, purring loud and walking
back and forth, rubbing first one side and
then the other against the back of the chair.
“Will you tell Willie, ma, ’cause he won’t:
believe me if you don’t.” y
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
FRANCIS T. MAIIER, 'OS.
'jpRANSMUTED was the darkness of the night
To fairest morn,
And hope put forth new leaves and blossomed brig]
When Christ was born.
Caesar Does His Christmas Shopping.
' IGNATIUS E. MCNAMEE, '09.
# MASSIVE chariot, liberally orna-
mented with gold trimmings had
glided up to the curb on its heavy
runners. It was ,a modish car,
built low in the rear and tilted
at a rakish angle toward the
front; with broad, spacious, oaken floor,
long, slender chariot -tree, and a heavy
reinforced axle. Florentine smiths had ham-
mered graceful patterns into the frame-
work of the skids, which , now were
clogged with snow. The high surrounding
. wall had been carved by Greek wood-
workers into grotesque satyrs, nymphs with
long, trailing bodies, curling vines and fan-
tastic scroll effects. Two bronze tablets, one
on either side, emblazoned the regal arms,
and in front, above the juncture of the
tongue with the car, a bas-relief displayed the
heroic proportions of a naked diver, standing
on the bank of a stream, his hands joined
high over his head and the motto “Missa
est -tessera” arched above them. A brass
lion’s head at the tip of .the polished wagon-
pole held in its mouth a silver ring, to which
were fastened four silver chains leading to
the neck-yokes of four glossy, black Arabian
steeds, who champed and pawed restlessly,
. eager to stretch their numbing limbs.
The charioteer wrapped in a tunic of
beaver skins, his hands clad in heavy,
gauntleted gloves, his brow bound round
. with a brown band of fur in place of gala
. ribbons, kept stamping his winter sandals
against the floor to warm his freezing toes.
; Now and again a swirl of snow, lashing
against his bare , legs, would tingle the
.flesh- from knee to ankle ; but, save for the
stamping, Rome’s imperial coachman .gave
no sign of discomfort. Marble impassive-
ness- seemed to. pervade the whole man.
Even when the nervous horses turned their
heads or craned their necks impatiently, his
big right arm, stretching out over the dash-
board, controlled them without any move-
ment; a magnetic influence seemed to pass
along the taut reins to the clanking bits.
Caesar had just dismounted and was now-
standing alone and unaccompanied inside
one of the great department bazaars, which
.surround the Forum. His great ermine
toga, the golden band that circled his head,
the bejeweled serpent coiling tightly round
his upper left arm, the stateH signet on
his hand, and the chain of amethysts set
in linked squares of burnished gold, which
hung about his royal neck, all cast a sense
of reverence over the busy populace. But
the sight of Caesar, even without his panoply
• of greatness, would have awed the traders
to stillness. Had he stood in the market-
place as he stood on the brink of the
Rubicon with hands high overhead, they
would have fallen to silence just as quickly,
because Caesar’s personality was convincing.
Little children whispered li s name with
fearsome respect, and their warrior fathers
cherished it like a god’s.
The emperor rarely walked abroad. No
wonder then, that these bustling holidav
shoppers of cosmopolitan Rome checked
their mad bargain-counter rush this morn-
ing and charged the air wi:h an awkward,,
silent suspense when he entered. The pause
was short, however, *for a brave, young stu-
dent, proudly wearing the monogram of the
University of Athens on his toga, shouldered
his way to the front and faced the people.
“Nine rahs for Caesar,” he shouted, “and
a good are bat the end.” Their v r ell rolled
out with such volume as only the reaction
from strong nervous tension can produce;
it rattled up among the thong-bound rafters,
echoed on and on toward the . sky ; and
long after the sound had died away, came
back a faint refrain from the mountain-
side, “Rah for Caesar !” Marking the cadence
with a scroll of Thucydides, the cheer-master
gave a signal , at the end, and the mob —
for it had expanded vastly .during the
interim— knelt as a unit to the cry, “Ave,
Caesar ! ”. which rumbled along the ground
ana: up the Capitoline like the deep murmur
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
of an earthquake or the roar of a distant
volcano. Caesar was moved. He put up a
deprecating hand that he might speak.
“Friends, Romans, Countrymen,” said lie, “be still.
We’re not here for laudation, but for shopping.
It is our ’customed wont, as years go by,
That all our house shall taste of Cmsar’s love
At Yuletide, and rejoice in gifts of his
Selection. Let our royal presence change
In naught the care-free joy of Christmas barter;
Let each regard me as his fellow-jester
To quip and crowd me with him at his will.
These maids and matrons, who attend the counters,
Shall grant no more civility' to me
Than they discourse to ye. Mark well ! let this
Be heeded, for it is our earnest .will;
Our high command, it needs must be obeyed.
Surprise will often paralyze a crowd, and
would have done so now only that the
emperor straightway. rushed off toward the
confections’ department. He showed most
convincingly by bowling over two lotharios
that there should be no doubt he meant
what he had said. The pomp and dignity
which hedge round a man . of state never
disappear more quickly than they' do when
that man- so forgets himself as to. disregard
his own position. He himself starts the
wedge with which most willing hands will
ultimately separate him from the respect to
which that .pomp and dignity are entitled.
It was so to-day\
No sooner did Caesar dispel his chilly air
of exclusiveness than the crowd, enlivened
by some magic touch, burst through its quiet
into , noisy action once again, ,and tried,
according to the royal command, to forget
the imperial ermine as it passed among the
throng. I say “tried to. forget,” because
delicacy and habits of long-standing had
made the people timid to pull and push the
royml habiliments about as freely as they
would rough one another.
Waiting in front of the confectionery
booth, great Caesar took from his scrip a
tiny scroll on which were jotted several
memoranda. Then addressing the maiden,
he said: - , . 5 .■ . ^ , ,
“Just put. me up a , five-pound box of svyeet c ,
Rare chocolates and candied pineapples; ' M
Greeffcitron bars and glazed apricots, '.' \
. With lucent syrups -and \vhat garnishments
May' ornament tlie dainty stuffs.”" - / -
From the ample folds of heir flowing blue
robe, the girl produced a ; parchment, and
from her elegant, coiffure a dainty stylus
with which she summed up the items of
“’Twill be sixteen denarii and seven ases
more,” she said finishing the last figure in
a graceful flourish. The bill was paid, a
transfer check given and the dictator plowed
toward the fur department. By r dint
of long effort he escaped the jam at the
candy booth and essayed a passage toward
the other end of the emporium. Large beads
of royal perspiration were trickling down
Caesar’s angular face; his broad chest
heaved under the strain of effort; the ermine
toga had fallen from his shoulders and. he
held it gathered round his waist with one
hand ; the costly purple tunic of Indian silk
clung in places to his steaming body; the
band around his head hung all awry ; and
the lacings of his sandals slowly slipped
toward his feet. One would think he was
fighting his wav alone from Britain back
to Rome, so disordered was his apparel.
Finally r he reached the fur department.
“Let’s see some good chinchilla furs, my
sweetie,” the ’ royml customer said, as he
chucked the dirhpled maiden’s dainty chin.
“Real or imitation!” came the pert re-
“Why! real of course. Calphurnia wears
no other.” The dimpled one jerked several
large boxes from under a stack on the shelf
behind and banged them upon the counter,
dexterously passing the lid under each box
before it struck the boards. There were
only two sets, and one of them lacked a
muff. • -
“This set brings us two talents, sir,” she said;
“Without the muff it comes at the price.
This next is worth’ ten rubels less without
The muff. Good Brutus bought the muff a moment ' .
' • since,”' \ - • rL -
responded y the patient clerk, meanwhile
diligently chewing her wad of Cyprus pitch.
“ Are these the only chinchilla’s thou
■ hast ? ” and. He smiled encouragingly.
“That’s all. If we had more I’d show
-them.” Her reply was curt, businesslike,
; and, taken with the elevation of her eye-
brows that accompanied it, was thoroughly
convincing. So Caesar took the. complete
■ set, handing a three-talent bill in payment.
“ Cash girl ! ” and after a pause, “ Gash
girl!”, again. With a trailing inflection on
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
the last syllable, came the strident call
from the pitch-chewing clerk. “Get this bill
changed for yonder man,” she shouted at
a diminutive miss in a highl3 r starched
tunic, who was sliding, up to the booth at
that moment. And to Cassar:
“We’ll send your goods up on the night delivery;
They ean’t eomc any sooner.”
The information was gratuitous and the
classic-modeled employee turned to her next
customer. Ctesar took his change with
a nod of thanks and elbowed his way
toward the entrance.
The car was there as he had left it.
The silky horses still champed their bits,
tossed their heads and pawed at their rest-
less inactivity; the driver still looked steadily
out into the far distance, and his arm still
reached over the dashboard with the reins
drawn through his gloved fingers. Little
rills of snow had been banking up in the
thick, rolling folds of his tunic, while he
stood, awaiting his royal master, the sight
of whom now electrified him into animation
as it electrified the crush of peqple, who had
gathered in front of the bazaar to see great
Cassar depart. The charioteer shook his
hair free of the fallen snow, vigorous!}'
brushed it from his tunic, slipped his brawny
wrist into the loop, from which a long,
black lash hung suspended, and with a
dexterous flourish of his raised forearm
tossed the free end behind his shoulder in
expectant readiness for the royal command.
The crowd thundered out a cheer and nearly
broke through the file of gendarmes, who
charged them back with lowered spears that
they might keep a passage for the royal car.
Caesar mounted the chariot, bowed his
smiling acknowledgments to the roaring
populace as he went, and with a whistling
crack of the whip over, their heads, the
Arabians dashed quickly away. On and
on they glided through the streets to the
tinkle of a little bell, which had not been
removed from beneath the car since the
last, triumph ; on and. on toward the Pala-
tine Hill. When the business . thorough-
fares lay behind them,. Caesar put out a sup-
porting hand against the rim of the chariot,
wilted in body and tired in mind, yet
content in the knowledge that his Christ-
mas shopping was over for another year.
; GEORGE J. FINNIGAX, ’10.
HAPPY Christmas, yours, — be gla'd.
Let not one moment find you sad. .
The whole world greets you ; let me add,
“A Happy Christmas.” .
* - «
A Happy Christmas, yours, — may peace
And love, your Yule-tide joys increase;
Oh! may for you that song ne’er cease,
“A- Happy Christmas.” ’■
A Happy Christmas, yours, — destroy •
All strife, let, troubles not annoy •
Your pleasure; may you e’er enjoy
“A Happy Christmas.”- - » •
Just a Delays
JAMES J. FLAHERTY, ’OS.
S Stuart Temple sat in - the
dingy little station the afternoon
before Christmas, he could see
nothing of happiness, nothing to
break the dead monotony of the
morrow save the click, click of
the instruments and the incessant hum of
the wires as messages of good-will were
sent over them. For a long time he had
determined to give up the lonely life and
go back to the city, but always the thought
would A'anish as soon as the resolve was
made. He arose from the desk, walked up
and down the room to await the station-
master w r ho had gone up the track to
inspect a reported defect in the road, when
the instruments clicked off a message. It
was for Temple.
He jotted it down carefully and placed
it in the drawer of the desk. It would be
about an hour before the through express,
the only one that day, w r ould pass. As
there was no probability of receiving any
more messages, he left the station in charge
of the master and walked down the track
in order to relieve his mind. Everything
seemed to be in good condition in the direc-
tion of the water-tank a few' yards further
on. He returned to the station, re-read the
message, but could see no , solution for the
quandary he was in. _
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
The express soon rolled by the depot
and stopped at the water-tank bej^ond.
The impatient holiday passengers became
more impatient when they learned that the
water-tank was empty, that the nearest
place where water could be secured was a
considerable distance down the line. In
some way the pipe leading to the tank
which supplied it with water had been
broken. Being situated around a curve, it
could not be seen by anyone about the
“What sort of oversight do you keep
about you here?” demanded the conductor
angrily, as he entered the station and
accosted the station-master. “It will take
us two hours to mend that break, and
there isn't any pipe about to do it with.
We will have to send back to the junction
and that will take considerable time. What,
are' we to do? We can’t go on -without
The station-master, angered at this
reproof, replied : “lam not obliged to spend
my time inspecting water-tanks. Besides
the local took water there about two
“The local — hem slow— new men,” replied
the conductor, “inexperienced, everyone of
them, put on temporarily. You haven’t
seen any tramps or suspicious characters
“No, not anybody,” declared the station-
master decidedly. “I’ve been outside ever
since the local passed and would have
seen them. It was only about an hour ago
that Mr. Temple -walked down that wav.”
“Yes,” said Temple as he joined them, “the
station-master is right about no tramps
being around. Some one of us would have
seen them.” ' • . - - - _
“Well, it’s the local crew of course. Temple,
you telegraph for pipe at once. Order them
to . send the fastest engine, , and say that
we are stalled here. Rush your message
.“There is no special need of ordering
direct from, head quarters”’ observed Temple.
“ Come to think of.it, there are- some extra
pieces of pipe at Cedar. I was there about
a week ago and saw them.’ ’
-“.But how can you get them here?”
inquired the conductor relieved; : -Y\ y
“ There is an engine : working on * the_new
switch and I can have it here within
“Then have it,” declared the conductor
eagerly. “Don’t lose any time. Tell them
to wire back.”
Temple returned to his office and sat down
at his desk. Pulling- out the drawer he
took' up the message he had received, and
went over it carefullv. It read :
“Mr. Temple: — Why didn’t you inform
me of this discovery sooner? Dec. 24 is
the date set for the final hearing. .You
say you know a Miss Margaret Wells at
Cedar, and that } r ou discovered her name
to be Chandler. I Understand the whole
case. Unless she is here Dec. 24, the entire
road will go to, the present holders.”
Temple’s brow knitted while reading the
message. It had been -written December 20,
four days ago.
To Temple the reason for this was evident.
It had been held . in the main office. It
could not be left out entirely as that would
be discovered, but an excuse could be given
for not sending it until it was of no use.
Just as soon as the through express had
passed Cedar the message was forwarded
“Well,” thought Temple, “two can play
at that game.” _
He bent over the desk and sent the follow-
ing telegram :
“ Miss Margaret Wells, Cedar Come to.
Windsor at once. Don’t fail. - An engine will
leave there -within an hour and the engineer
is a particular friend of mine.”
Then he folded his • arms and -waited.
The -wires kept up their constant hum and
the instruments * clicked incessantly. The
whole affair passed before Temple’s mind.
For some time a legal dispute had been
going on over the heirs-in-law of William
Chandler, a wealthy, bachelor, who had
died intestate, leaving; considerable property
including the railroad on which Temple was
employed. . . ' Y ; - ' .
: Fifteen ; minutes . later the . conductor
appeared at the door. ..
“Heard from them ;yet ? ”i. ; . • . •
* “No ; they are father slow, down there,
.but I will wire them -again. ”
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
Ten minutes more. Temple leaned over the
desk and forwarded another telegram.
“That ought to give her plenty of time,
but I’ll make sure.”
Then he sent a demand for the pipe and
for the engine, asking the engineer to make
no possible delay, — adding, “Miss Wells
will come with you. Her presence here is
Within the hour the engine arrived, but
the passengers failed to notice the pretty-
young lady who dropped from the cab
and entered the station, her face pale and
“Oh, Stuart, what is it?” Then demurely,
“I thought you might have been hurt.”
The whole situation was explained to-her,
but it was some time 'before the bewildered
girl overcame her embarrassment after read-
ing the telegram.
“I have telegraphed the lawyer that you
will appear in court this afternoon, and we
can go down on this train. And perhaps
this delayed message may be of some service.
0 yes, that’s all right — er, that little incident
of last week is off.”
“ Why,” she demanded.
“Can’t you understand? I am merely an
employee, while you' are — ”
“No, not another word about it, Stuart.”
That afternoon both listened to the
lawyer as he proved Miss Chandler to be
the niece of Wm. Chandler .and the rightful
heir of his property -which included the rail-
road complete. As soon as he had received
a letter from Temple telling of a discovery
he had accidentally made while visiting with
Miss Wells, Dacej- employed a detective to
work on the case, and in this way dis-
covered that she had formerly lived with
her uncle, but was obliged to leave on
account of his cruelties towards her. She
had dropped her real name and taken on
an assumed one in order that she might
earn a modest living as a governess. She
seemed rather perplexed as the lawyer
shook her hand warmly after it was all
: “What I don’t rinderstand is about that
delayed . telegram and train. How do - you
account for that, Stuart.”
-With a side glance toward Temple, the
lawyer smiled and broke in: “Just a little
oversight, • I think.”
The Favored Poor.
GEORGE J. FIXXIGAX, ’10.
'THOUGH clothetl in rags, though loaded with the
Of all the world’s rebuffs, 0 be not sad:
The message of the birth of Christ first came
Unto the shepherds, poor and humbly clad.
JOSEPH J. IiOVLE, ’OS.
HE senior* ball was on. For
several days dress-suits, laun-
dry wagons, and tailor bills
had been arriving hourly,
and ’07 men had been kept
^ V busy answering telegrams,
meeting trains, or making final arrange-
ments with lady friends in the city. Now:
all was ready. Nothing had been omitted,
from the Punch Bowl that stood in one
corner of the hall beneath a huge “’07”
emblazoned with incandescent lights, to the
providing of special amusements for the
patrons and patronesses who had. come to
honor by their presence the efforts of the
youthful party. The weather, too, seemed
to be in full harmony with the occasion — an
exquisite spring evening in every sense of
the word fit was, with a soft breeze blowing
from the lake that kept the magic lanterns
swaying and set in motion the flags and
streamers - that lined the shady entrance
to the hall.
The first warning notes of the orchestra
found the avenue filled with stately seniors,
each proudly escorting his. chosen partner
to : the hall that sparkled with lights of
many' colors and shone- out through the
waving branches like the surface of a
moonlit lake. .
There was just one senior to whom that
music brought no thrill, Spike Blake, who
alone stood by the entrance unaccosted.
A look of disgust appeared in his eyes;
dejection engraved itself on every feature,
as he nervously beat time on the door-sill
with a -telegram which he held in his hand.
- * “ Gurse ; -my luck, Sweeny, : just got, word
she is not coming.'- A deuce of a time to send
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
a fellow word when the dance is almost
beginning. But that’s a girl every time.
You never can depend upon them I sup-
pose she didn’t have her pink gown finished,
or her spring bonnet trimmed or some other
foolishness, and then just as if it were my
fault she sends me this,” expostulated
Blake, shaking the telegram in Sweeny’s
face and avowing in disgust the utter
unreliability of all the daughters of Eve.
“Fierce proposition,” responded his sym-
pathetic room-mate. “What are j’.ou going
to do about it?”
“Do about it? Sit around like a ‘has
been,’ or go to my room — what can I do
about it?” was the gruesome reply.
Tom pulled his tie, thrust his hands deep
into his pockets, and then in a voice that
betrayed considerable uncertainty, began :
“Don’t give up altogether, old man, I am
in as bad a fix, but not quite -the same
wray. That Western Athletic Association
meets to-night in spite of all my efforts
to dela\ r it. If I am not there Queenstown
wall not have a look in. They^ will legislate
against us and we wall not hold an office
in the association. To make matters worse,
my sister’s here. She came this afternoon
unexpectedly. What do you think about
taking her, Spike? Stay here -while I go
up to the ball-room and fix it up with
Sis;.” he darted inside leaving Blake to
his mu sings.
“That’s strange,” murmured the latter,
looking wistfully after his departing com-
rade. “ Tom never kept anything from me
be'ore. .We have roomed together four years,
read each other’s letters, knew each other's
secrets, and yet he didn’t tell me his sister
Tom’s return put an end to all Spike’s
deliberations. “Come,” he said, grasping
Blake by the arm and ushering him into
the hall. Several involuntary interruptions
delayed the progress of the undertaking,
but at length Tom succeeded in bringing his
sister and his room-mate together.
Blake was stupified. “Tom’s sister” was
a veritable queen. He had singled her out
the moment he entered; he had been remark-
ing her ever since, and noted her slightest
action.. . This was “Tom’s sister!” She
( Tom’s .sister) was standing before him in
a dazzling gown flounced and frizzled in
all directions. For Blake there was no other
gown or no other girl in the hall half so
stunning. He resolved that before the
evening was over she would be more than
“Tom’s sister” to him. So amazed had he
become that he couldn’t speak. He just
bowed and scraped and nodded, but couldn’t
get the words started. He didn’t need to,
however, she came to his rescue.
“So 'you are Tom’s room-mate,” she began
wfith a smile that made Blake dizzy. The
atmosphere of composure that seemed to
envelop her placed her far abo\ r e all the
girls he had ever met. No other lass present
could engage his attention for a moment.
She was a marvel sure. And the clever way
she has of conversing made Blake feel he
had known her all his life. And the fact
that he w r as Tom’s room-mate gave him
no little courage and furnished him besides
with an inexhaustible topic for discussion.
Dance with her? He. made bold enough to
reach for the program • that dangled from
her arm, and wanted to see his name
scrawled on every number; but he dared
not. “First, last, and seventh.”
“All right,” she said, with a roguish smile
that made him blush confusedly^
He feared he had been too bold, and she
was chiding him for it. But no, she mani-
fested every symptom of pleasure and kept
right on sajfing clever things that kept him
guessing all the time, without ever talking
about ‘it being crowded ’ or ‘being warm,’
or that sort of thing that most girls keep
ejaculating, all night long. That blessed
telegram ! How he treasured it. How he
wished the sender in his home town knew
what fortune her message brought him.
’Twas wfith difficulty that he allowed his
mind to dwell upon her even for a short
time. Marjorie was a good girl; she had
been a faithful friend for years, but then he
knew he could never care for her any more.
She was common and uninteresting, and
not the one for a college graduate.
The first : dance with “Tom’s sister!”
How eagerly he hoped that his style of
dancing might coincide with hers. He was
so nervous when the music sounded that
cold perspiration stood out upon his brow,
for- he knew his superlative effort to excel
w r ould inevitably make him stumble, “tread
toes” and bump into every other couple
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
on the floor. Again she came to the rescue
with the words: “We can’t lose any of
this music,” and’ before the sentence was
finished they were floating down the hall.
Marvelous ! Her step matched his per-
fectly. He was surprised at himself. Never,
had he found anyone so suited to his way of
. dancing. Round and round they glided. The
draperies that hung from every indentation
in the walls and ceilings, waved ceaselessly
in apparent harmony with the music that
rose and fell and echoed throughout the
hall. Blake was panting for breath and feel-
ing somewhat sea-sick but ashamed to stop,
while his partner whirled round chatting
and interrogating him wpth aggravating,
Several times during the course of the
night he tried to allure “Tom’s sister” into
serious conversation; but no, she would
not be Serious, she would not be caught.
Tom, she ,said, had . told her too many
stories about the way college fellows jolty.
She was not going to be taken in ; and
before he could make his protest -under-
stood she was back again in the • midst
of trifles, teasing him. and keeping him ever
on the defence. He tried to give her his
college pin,, and hinted in more wavs than
one, but she didn’t take the hint. She said
she knew he was not serious. But he had-
her fan. He was proud of it. It furnished
an admirable excuse for the many times
he interrupted her conversation with other
shirt fronts; and somehow that fan didn’t
get away from him ; it was in his pocket
when he reached his room to retire, but
not to sleep.
He had been in bed but a few moments
when the jingle of a key ring and. the click-
* ing of a lock assured him that his room-
mate had returned.
“ Is that you, Tom ? ’’.called Out the former
as he lifted himself on his elbow, eager, to
relate the happy results of the night. Then-
.without waiting for any questions to be
asked, began: “Say, old man, I have had
• the time of my life. That sister of yours
is a revelation. She is just like you, Tom, in
every particular, and knowing you so well,
Tom, I know her like a book: I tell you.
Tom, she is going to be mine, no matter
what paper-collared dude may claim her in
your home burg. I mean every word, of it.”
“Did she 0. K. your proposition?” inter-'
“No, 0 no! but I mean that I’m in the
race for all that is in it; that’s all.”
Tom had his head in his muffler and
chuckled with infinite delight.
“It was mean of me to do it, Spike, but
she is not my sister.' That’s Agnes; she
is going to be my bride in less than a month,
and you are to be best. man.”
“ No, sir,” shrieked the enraged room-mate,
springing from the mattress ; nothing of the
sort. “You have played me false once too
often. There are some questions too serious
to trifle with.”
But his room,- mate only, laughed the
louder and said.:- “I thought you could
take a j oke ? : B\ r the way, where did you
leave our friend?”
“She took the .train for Chicago as soon
as the dance was over,” was the curt reply.
“Chicago? Gone home, you mean? She
was to stay till Sunday, Blake. Didn’t she
leave me anv word ? ”
“None; she never mentioned you.”
“Blake, there is something the matter.
She didn’t take offence at my not being
there? She knew my position and told me
to go. I can’t- understand this at all.”
“If things have gone wrong, Tom, it’s
. your own fault. • I thought I was talking to
your sister, and all sisters want to know
about their brother’s girls,, and I told her
all I could in that line.”
“Thunder, Spike, what did you tell her?”
“Tell her? I told her that Agnes Ritter
had been engaging all v.our. thoughts, that
• you had been taking her everywhere.”
“0 Blake, you didn’t tell -her that, you
don’t mean it,” interrupted Sweeny in a
' paroxism of excitement.
“I told her- that Agnes, would be her
sister-in-law before \ r our, diploma ever
saw a frame,” .was the emphatic reply.
' “Blake, I am ruined.- It’s all off. ; That
explains: why she- went back. Hadn’t you
sense enough>not to- blab all you. knew,
you rummy. ?” .raved Tom,: pacing up and
down the room, tearing off. cuffs and collar
while The tops ofi shirt buttons flew in all
directions., “Mv flat furnished and all!”
‘ ‘ Nohsen se,? ’ retorted Blake, pulling , the
blankets 'Over his. head : “ Can’t you take
a joke?”;' . ; .
Notre dame scholastic
The Welcoming of The King.
C.EOROEj. I'lXXIC.AX, ’10.
JV^O eager trumpet rang throughout the earth
When came the Infant in His lowh' way.
No courtiers bowed to Him that Christmas DaA',
No empires hailed with joj' His hoh r birth ;
And 3*et He was adored in heaven above,
And choirs of angels came on earth to sing
Their wondrous song of praise to Christ the King,
And greet' Him with a plenitude of love.
OTTO A. SCHMID, ’09.
LOWLY the snow sifted through
the still air of a December even-
~V y/w ing with all its trimmings indic-
ative of cold .and Christmas.
TvJ The icicles hanging from the
eaves stretched their, long,
gleaming white fingers far towards the
ground, and the snow lay piled in drifts
along the streets and fences. Here and there
the snowbirds fluttered about, for a moment
balancing themselves on the weeds protrud-
ing through the snow, dry and dead relics
of summer’s beauty. Graduall\ r the red fore-
boding sun sank lower and lower in the
western skj-, burned dull for a short hour
between snowfall and nightfall, and then
darkness fell over the great city.
Long after the sun had departed, leaving
the heavens to the mj'riad starry eyes of
night, the locomotives rumbled, and fumed,
and fretted, dragging their long, snake-like
trains of cars through Blue Valley into the
busy .city'.- Little Hans, sitting by the
window of his home, ^gazing out over the
snow-ridden scene, saw none of* this,— his
mind was far away, on other matters more
germane to childhood. His, picture book lay
on the floor, neglected ; his playthings scat-
tered over the room, forgotten by the six-
year old, ’wlio view^ed. the wintry scene with
the dreamy, idealistic 'eyes of the poet.
-Little^HanSj like all little Hanses, was
more or less of a visionist. Before the sun
had set he could have seen the distant
smoke clouds rising from the city; but
with night’s advent he onl\ r saw the far-
off glimmering lights moving swiftly to
and fro, and the occasional glow caused
by the firing of the heaving locomotives
pulling their loads and shrieking their warn-
ings. As the frost-artist deftly spread his
poetic, fanciful designs over Hans’ window
the lights of the outside world grew
dimmer, fainter, fewer. He was tired, and
his curly golden head sank to the window-
sill. He slept.
In the dim, shadow*y distance he saw r
many fantastic forms. At first they were
very hazy, but soon became more distinct.
Far away over hills and valle3'S, mountains
and chasms, fast . and endlessly, sped the
fantasms, ever going, going, yet never leav-
ing his range of vision, neither coming nearer
nor going aw r a} r , but still steadily growing
more distinct. To his mind the occasional
shrieks of the passing locomotives were
nothing, and the lights flitting along in
the dark, carried by unseen hands, were but
as stars guiding the objects of his vision.
They came nearer and nearer. At first
thejr looked like a train of cars flying at
will over hill-tops and valleys, over rivers
and cities. Then he saw they were not a
train of cars, but w^ere much smaller. There
seemed to be horses and a carriage; yes, —
he could see their feet striking out into the
snow, sending it in wrhirhvinds about the
carriage. But they had horns. Still they
kept up their airy, fairy flight. Over houses
they flew, occasionally stopping for a second
or tw r o, ’then on again with the lightning
speed of the wflnd. They were coming nearer.
Now he could see the hot breath steaming
from the nostrils of the animals, and he
heard the crack of the long w*hip as it flew
out over their backs. They w r ere now in
plain sight. “Yes,” thought he, “them is
reindeers. Santy Claus is coming.” Hans
recognized him. of the long beard, flownng
mantle and kindlj 7 face. He w'as not sur-
prised, in fact he expected Santy Claus, for
it was Chistmas Eve. Again Santy stopped.
This time he disappeared down a chimney
carrying a Christmas tree sparkling with
lighted candles, besides a sled, and skates,
and a load of other things. Instantly he
reappeared empty handed, and off he flew.
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC 225
again swift as before over the edge of the
roof, but this time he seemed to fall. Hans
.jumped in fright, and yelled.
“What’s the matter, darling?” queried
Hans’ mother, as he sprang up. “What’s
wrong with mamma’s darling?”
Hans looked around dazed, rubbing
“Where’s Santr r ?” he finally managed to
say, looking up into the smiling face of
his mother. “Where’d Santy go to? I saw
him just now. Where is he?”
“He’s gone,” replied his mother, not
knowing what he meant or what he had
seen. Walking to a door she opened it, and
lo! Hans sprang up rolling in glee, for
there were the things he had seen Santy
take down the chimney: the lighted tree,
the sled, skates, candy, toj’S galore. “I saw
him, mamma. I saw Santy come down the
chimney. Did you see him too? I saw Santy,
I saw him.”
Hans was in childhood’s heaven, but the
artist, Jack Frost, kept weaving his fantastic
designs thicker and thicker on the window
through which the lights of the outside
world faintly shone, flitting by as the trains
sped on through the dark, cold, snowy
The Last Stop.
EDWARD r. CLEARY, ' 09 .
* T was almost half-past nine o’clock
- on the eve of Christmas. Tommy
O’Neill, delivery -boy for Buck and
Stephens, turned his faithful old Ned
into Ninth Avenue and looked forward in
the darkness toward the weather-beaten ,
delapidated row of houses which faced this
dismal, unpaved highway in the outhdng
portion of New Burnside. The sharp sleet
fell like needles on the numb, gloveless hand
of the boy, and the reins which supported
the slipping horse threatened to drop from
the w eakening grasp of the driver. Yet
Tommy \yas . happy. All afternoon, since
two o’clock, he had been out. His wagon,
loaded liigh with good : things to eat, had
stopped again and again to be relieved of
its burden. Tommy remained just dong
enough at the rear door to receive a “Merry
Christmas from the busy cook and then
jumped back into the wagon with a cheerful
“ Come, Ned ! to the reliable old animal
which had experienced close on to a score
of similar Christmas Eves.
There was but one more stop to be made
before the day’s work should end. It was
the widow Sullivan’s at the end of the
next square, and Tommy peered back into
the rear of the wagon to see if the little
packages were there. Small as were the
widow’s purchases, Tommy always felt it
a pleasure to rap at the door of the humble,
little cottage, and hand the sad-faced old
lady her half pound of green tea, while
she remarked: “Bless your heart,- Tommy,
I hadn’t a grain left for my breakfast; it’s
lucky you came, even if it is a little late.”
To-night there were other little packages
besides tea. Mrs. Sullivan had been at the
store early that morning and had given
in her order. Christmas didn’t have the
charm now for Mrs. Sullivan that it did
when Dennv was alive. How manv a time
she had told Tommy the pathetic tale of
her gallant son, who had served his country
through three long years in the. Philippines,
and then came home to rest his weary head,
for the last time in the arms of his dear
A throb of sympathy touched the war m
heart of the lad as he thought of the old
lady, all alone in her little home when
ever}- one else seemed so happy. He gave
Ned an extra touch of the lines, and they
soon drew up before the cottage. All was
dark outside. The sleet fell heardly upon
the low panes of the cottage. Instead of
the usual cheeiful light in the sitting-room 1
window, there was only the blackness of
night. Tommy alighted quickly and knocked
at the floor. There came no response. He
knocked again, but still no response. Not
wishing to leave the groceries on the step,
he turned the knob of the door. It yielded
and he stepped in. There before the cheerful
fire in the middle of the sitting-room sat
the widow Sullivan. Clasped in her hands
she held the picture of Denny, but the
former sad face of the old lady had given
place to a heavenly smile of eternal peace. .
There was joy above for Denny and his
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
The Last Recital.
FRANK X CULL. ’ 09 .
T was near midnight. The air
was thick with fine, powder-like
snow, falling", falling, falling,
clothing the rude deformities of
the earth in a garb of faultless
white. The street, strangely -
deserted after the bustle and hurry 7 of the
holiday 7 traffic, seemed to stretch out
unendingly beneath the arc-lights into the
blackness beyond. On either side great cliff-
like rows of buildings loomed up in an
unbroken line, giving the avenue the appear-
ance of a deep and dark alwss. The uncer-
tain, flickering glare of the swinging street
lamps scarcely penetrated the cloyed atmos-
phere, and cast grotesque dancing shadows
over the illuminated area of snow.
A lonely figure paused for a moment
before one of the shops, and retreated into
the shelter of a dark hall- way where he
crowded shivering against the icy 7 door-post.
A moment only he rested in that frigid
haven, gazing mournfully up and down the,
cheerless avenue, then continued his solitary
march over the thickening blanket . of
With an uncertain- gait he trudged on,
shuddering and drawing his tattered coat
more closely about his , spare figure as
each successive blast penetrated his scanty
apparel and set his flesh a-quiver with
cold. Under his arm he bore a much-battered
violin, case which he shifted from one side
to the other in a vain attempt to protect
his hands from the biting atmosphere. The
wind howled dismally around the comers,
and mockingly hurled great suffocating
blasts of snow, into his face, blinding him
with, its ever-increasing fury. .. . .. -r
it seemed in this wild uproar of unleashed
elements. And yet he could not be mistaken,
it was undoubtedly music. As he listened
the sound . of many voices, blended in a
common melody, struck upon his dulled
ear. Scarcely knowing what he was doing,
he turned his steps in the direction whence
the music came.
Down a side street his course led him,
lined on either side by great martial shade
trees, looming up dark and immense against
the white background, and lifting their
naked, shadowy arms, aloft into the upper
blackness. Soon the music grew louder and
more distinct. The solemn strains of a
pipe organ mingled with a chorus of many
voices in a hymn of praise were wafted to
his ear. \
Out of the darkness loomed the shadowy
form of a great cathedral, its gorgeously 7 :
stained windows gleaming resplendent in
the night, and shedding a bejewelled glory
over the protected area of snow at its side.
Louder and clearer rang out through the
midnight air the solemn, sweet notes of the
Gloria, heralding to the sleeping world
the divine message of peace and good will.
A strange calm seemed to e'manate from the
house of worship. Even the wind lost for
a moment part of its fury as iff swept hesi-
tatingly around the angles of the edifice
before dashing wildly on. Et in terra pax
hominihus rang the joyful word of cheer
as sung by the heavenly choir on that first
Christmas' morn ; and deep in the chilled
heart of the, wandering musician it touched
a responsive chord of devotion.
For a moment he paused before the
entrance as. though unwilling to intrude on
a service so impressive. A momentary gust
of frigid air rushed in as the door opened
under , his hand. Within, all was warmth
and radiance." The church was . ablaze with
myriads of incandescent bulbs, lighting up
every . gilded notch And ornament with a
Suddenly he stopped and stood . -for a golden sheen. . ‘
moment as though listening intently. . Was : . With faltering steps the aged violinist took
he dreaming? No, surely not. Above the his place silently, unobserved , in the rear,
noise of the wind and the clattering jargon The worshippers knelt in prayerful attitude,
of swinging signboards lie caught the faint . awaiting, the solemn moment when . the
but unmistakable sound, of . music.y Where divine Infant should take visible form on the,,
could it come from ? Wondering in a dull, altar of sacrifice. Through the Gospel and
half .frozen ....way, . ^m:'<stupid • the - Credo . the musician knelt, his head
astonishment. How strangely 7 . out oT.place ; bowed low in devotion. Only when the
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
subdued peal of the altar gong announced
the Offertory, did he raise for a moment
his devout- gaze.
A deep quiet seemed to pervade the church
as the unconsecrated host was held aloft,
and the congregation struck their breasts
in humble supplication. Suddenly out on the
stillness . poured the soft, sweet notes of a
violin. Low at first, with subdued modula-
tions, then rising in str*ength and vehemence,
with inexpressible sweetness and power,
flowed the strains of the Adeste Fidelis.
Scarcely" noticeable at first, so low and
unobtrusive were the opening notes that
they seemed to float out of the very still-
ness of the air itself. With wonderful ten-
derness, with divine power of expression,
it seemed to appeal not to the ears of the
hearers, but to their very hearts, holding
them enthralled as if by some magic agency.
Not a voice was raised in accompaniment.
It was as though this were the voice of the
Creator Himself, speaking to their innermost
souls. Now rising, now falling, now pouring
forth in a flood of wondrous melody, now
sinking to low murmurs of inexpressible
sweetness, those magical notes fell upon the
hushed air as crystal snowflakes falling and
melting on their souls.
At last the seraphic music died away with
the same sweet tenderness with which it
had begun. For a moment its spell lingered
in the atmosphere; then the congregation,
awakening from its influence, turned to
discover its source.
Under the spreading gallery, with his
violin still held in position and his hoary
head drooping forward on his chest, stood
the old violinist, as though not yet awak-
ened from the spell of his own inspiration.
His feeble fingers twitched in visible agita-
tion, and his frail body swayed weakly,
as though in the last stage of exhaustion.
His snowy locks reflected the radiance of
the bright lights and lent a sort of hallowed
glory'- to the picture.
For the space of a few moments he stood
thus transfigured before them. Then a
violent tremor . seized him, and he seemed
about to collapse.- Lifting his pallid brow
heavenward, he sank helplessly into a pew.
A glow of supreme content overspread his
features, and he settled - back into a deep,
sweet sleep of peace.
On Earth Peace.
WILLIAM I\ LENNARTZ, ’OS.
L° ! from the skies there comes a glad refrain.
Angelic voices, herald from on high, ,
Announce to men that now surcease is nigh
Of sorrow and of strife; no more shall reign
War’s gory form or tyrant’s hand maintain
The sceptered sway ; breasts heave a joyful sigh,
And hearts, long crushed, in'- exultation cry.
Earth shall , its pristine harmony regain.
Peace, then, my soul, cease now thy anxious fears:
Let not the turmoil of the world’s great crime
Disturb thee, for to-day men weep in tears
Of joy; *a message sacred and sublime
Assures us that our prayer is heard ; again
We welcome Christ’s sweet “Peace on earth to men.”
At a Masquerade.
EDWARD M. KENNEDY, ’OS.
t EO BYRNE was undecided
as to where he would spend
\r Christmas. Atlantic City'.
& 1 LI seemec * mos t probable, as that :
was the most desolate place at
vr^ Christmas time that he knew,
and Leo wished to be away" from the world.
His thoughts were suddenly" interrupted by-
his office boy. ' - .
“Mr. Byrne, a gentleman wishes to see
- “No, sir, but he says his name is Bixler.”
“Billv Bixler? Show him in and don’t
let us be interrupted.”
“Hello, Bill, old. man, how are you? Very
glad to see you.” *
“Fine, old boy. How are you? Where,
have you been? I’ve Deen trying to locate
you for the last couple of day r s.”
“I’ve been in Cleveland for the past .two
weeks, just got home to-day. Anything in
particular y r ou wished to see me about?”
“Yes, I want you to come to the Cotillon .
Club’s Masquerade to-night. It seems like
a fiddler’s invitation, but I couldn’t see you
before. No invitations were issued, just a
hurry up affair, but you know those are the
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC •
most enjoyable. Come, say y'es. Dorothy
said I wasn’t to return home until you said
you would come.”
“But, Bill, I haven’t a costume.”
“Don’t let that trouble you; I have two.
Dot bought one for me, and I have my r
own. Say' yes, and I’ll have one up here
for you in an hour.”
“All right, Bill, I’ll go. Thank you for
your kindness. Will meet you at the dance.”
“Yes, Dorothy, he’s coming, but no more
errands for me. I explained to him that it
seemed like a fiddler’s invitation, to save
him telling it to me ; y r ou know he is a very
sensitive fellow. Then he said he didn’t
have a costume, so I told him that you had
bought one for me and. he could wear it.
It’s a lucky thing you bought a costume or
all your plans might have been for naught.”
“But, Billy dear, I know- you are large
enough to take care of y^ourself. I also
knew you had your costume, for I was here
when the express man delivered it. And with
the inborn curiosity of my sex I opened it.
Did you really think I bought that outfit
for you ? No, certainly not ; it’s all in the
“In the scheme, Dot ; what scheme? The
only scheme I know of is that y r ou sent me
to Leo and told me not to return home
unless he consented to go to the dance.
What are the inside workings?”
“Well, Billy, seeing that 3 r ou have been
such a good and innocent boy, I’ll tell you:
You know Leo and Grace Artman have not
been friends for the past six months. I asked
Grace about it and what was the cause.
She went to a dance with another fellow.
She waited until the day before the dance
for Leo to ask her, and when he did not
she thought he wasn’t going.- Frank Hall
asked her to. go and she consented. -On the
morning of the dance, Leo~ called , her over
the ’phone and asked her to go with him.
She stated the case to him and he wished
her to break the engagement^ with Frank,
but she would not do so. A few days after.
Leo came to Pittsburg to go into a law
firm. Grace has not heard from him since
When Leo, dressed as an Irish Gentleman,
entered the ball-room that evening, he was
in no agreeable frame of. mind. The last
masque he had attended was vividly por-
trayed to his imagination. He cynically
noted the. contrast — to-night he was there
to please a friend, on the previous occasion
he was there for his own pleasure. His
train of thought was suddenly- interrupted
“Say, Leo, see that Irish lassie over there
by Portia? The j oiliest girl and 'the best
dancer on the floor. Come over and meet
Something in her voice sounded familiar
to Leo, but he quickly dispelled the thought,
considering it to be his imagination. They
had the next waltz and several others.
Between dances, the dimly’- lighted, cozy
corners served as retreats. Their conver-
sation was desultory’-, until he asked her
with whom she had come.
“Dot Bixler,” she answered.
“Dot Bixler? Why, she’s the cause of
“Isn’t that peculiar. If it were not for
her, I would not be here to-night. She
wouldn’t take no for an answer. Besides
I couldn’t refuse Dot, she and I were great
friends at school.”
“Where? St. Mary’s?”
“I used to have a friend there, Grace
Artman. Did you know her?”
The Irish lassie gave a start. He was
talking about her. She quickly recovered
her composure, however, and answered :
“Yes, we were acquainted. She was too
aristocratic; we were never good friends;
in fact, I didn’t like her, some people called
her pretty, the reason — that’s beyond my
comprehension. Her complexion— a little
rouge and talcum cover a multitude of
“That is sufficient knocking, Miss; I see
you are an adept. But I do not agree
with yon. Of all the girls at St: Mary’s
I considered -Tier the. prettiest and most
“ Of all the girls,; at St. : Mary’s— what
the morning he ’phoned. I’ve arranged it do you know? of the rest ? ” ' .-:
so -that Grace will be at the dance ; she’s Y “ Know of them. L skived over nearly
coming ;on No. S. I’m playing the peace- every; day, when I was at Notre Dame.”
M "- - . . : . %; > TY . ’ “Were you at Notre Dame? When?”.
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
" •* ' - 2 „ ; *
“The same time Miss Artman and yon
were at St. Mary’s.”
“What Hall were you in?”
“Then you must have known Le — I mean
It was the man’s turn to shudder.
“Leo Byrne — know him? I certainty did.
Roomed next door to him for two j r ears.
He was the biggest cad in the University.
A regular society man in South Bend.
Attended all the swell-dances and receptions,
or at least he said so. Had dinner at the
Oliver two or three times a week, but he
never had a pack of tobacco as long as
I can remember. He smoked more of my
tobacco then I did. Why — ”
“My dear sir, that, to reiterate your own
statement, is sufficient. I know Mr. Byrne
very well, and I have no hesitation to say
he is the exact opposite of what you have
“What! Is that the signal to unmask?
How quickly the time has passed talking
of old times.”
Both turned their heads to unmask, and
when they had unmasked, as if ruled by r
fate, both turned around at the same instant.
The cozv corner then served its original
Leo did not spend his Christmas at
Atlantic City but at the Artman home.
Grace’s Christmas gift from Leo was a
The Ocean Wave.
FRANCIS X CULL, ’ 09 .
■y^HITHER onward, wave of the deep?
AYhitlier onward with surge and with leap?
Onward so lightly,
* Springing so sprightly,
Rolling and swelling,
Sinking and welling, —
What of thy mission? Is -it but pla3 r , .
Wave of the deep, sweeping on and awa}' ?
Teach me thy gladness, tin* care-free joy;
Teach me thy frolics, 0 wave so coy;
Take hence my soul, let it ride with thee,'
■Gay on thy mightiest wave, 0 -sea!
The Last Christrfias Tree.
RICHARD J. COLLENTINE, ’ 09 .
OHN W ADDINGTON, the rich
banker of Argyle, was agreed up-
on b\ r the natives as “ one of the
finest-looking men in the town.”
The care and worry of amassing
a great fortune had left his face
as free from wrinkles as it was
twenty -five years ago, when he first entered
the Farmer’s Exchange Bank to be errand
boy. Plis cheeks were still of a rosy plump-
ness. The whole - face, with its clear-cut
features and aquiline nose, formed an ideal
setting for a pair of grey eyes that sparkled
under a pair of dark, shaggy brows. He
was both tall and corpulent enough to
present a very imposing appearance.
Christmas Eve was always celebrated in
Arg}de by an informal program and a tree
for the young folks. The proceedings were
usually opened by speeches from Mr. Wad-
dington and other celebrities. The burden
of the discourses suffered little change as
the years rolled by. They were confined
mainty to a few commonplace observations
on the prosperity and growth of the burg
during each year, and the bright prospects
for the younger generation.
The most loolced-forward-to event of the
evening was the appearance of Santa Claus
himself. It was his duty to dole out the
different presents as they were handed down
from the Christmas Tree. The duty of play-
ing the part of Santa usually devolved upon
some one of the afore-mentioned celebrities.
Mr. Waddington always demurred, however,
when requested to accept the task. There
was something about appearing before an
assemblage in a flowing wfiite beard and
long locks of white hair that did not appeal
to . him. It struck him as entirety out of
keeping with his dignity. . Each year he had
been asked, but had refused firmly.
On one occasion, however, he did consent
after much pressing. It . was an event in
his own life and in the history of Argyle.
The night was chilly and crisp, a night when
everyone of the population, . both- young
and old, thought himself in duty bound
to stir out and make some - attempts To
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
celebrate the joyful feast. The town ball
was unusually full that night, and the
banker had waxed unusually eloquent.
When he appeared in full costume he was
greeted with thunderous applause; pande-
monium reigned for several minutes. The
presents were distributed one by one until
the tree was nearly'- stripped, a few pop-corn
balls and tattered fragments of mistletoe
The usual order had been carried through
without a hitch. Suddenly 7 there was a shrill
scream from one of the children and an
exclamation of dismay 7 from the janitor who
had been Santa’s right-hand assistant. The
long beard had come in contact with one
of the lighted candles adorning the tree, and
was instantly 7 all aflame. Mr. Wad dingt on’s
presence of mind never deserted him for an
instant. Wig and beard had been torn off
and dashed to the floor in a flash. The
real catastrophe was yet to come. As soon
as. the faithful janitor had espied fire, he
rushed madly 7 for a bucket of ice-water
which stood in a far corner of the long
room. Believing the safety 7 of all present
depended entirely on his efforts, he fairly
flew, bowling over all who came in his path.
To return with his precious burden was
but the work of an instant, and before
anyone could prevent he had dashed the
water full into Mr. Waddington’s face.
The cooling liquid instantly 7 flowed off the
banker’s bald pate, but it lingered and
trickled soothingly through his iron gray 7
locks, soiling his polished shirt-front laun-
dried especially 7 for the occasion. For a
moment he stood blinking and shivering,
with the janitor staring at him in open-
mouthed wonder. Absolute silence reigned
for the space of perhaps five seconds when
suppressed titters broke out here and there
through the room. This presently gave place
to unrestrained- shrieks of laughter, which
all the dignity of the banker was unable
to stem. The more he stamped. and gesticu-
lated, the louder grew the; noise. Finding
no other outlet for his wrath, he rushed at
the janitor, the innocent , cause of all the
trouble. But this worthy - apprehensive of
danger, immediately 7 bolted for the door,
with Mr. Waddington in hot pursuit. This
ended the last Christmas tree festivities
ever held in 'Argyle. 4 v r
A Christmas Carol.
PETER E. HEBERT, ’ 10 .
T WOULD tell in merry rhymes,
* Clara Belle ;
In accord with Christmas chimes,
. There’s an air of mystery
For such universal glee
At this one festivity,
There is peace without alloy,
There are tidings of great joy,
Telling us in sweet refrains
That an Infant King now reigns, —
Our Redemption He explains,
Harlan’s Christmas Sacrifice.
ROBERT E. SAEEY, ’OS.
§ HE raw; cold, bleak northwester
was driving a fine, cutting snow
over the dry 7 , sandy plains,
through the little village of
Waynes ville and out again oyer
the unbroken, level waste of
sagebrush and sand, stopping its furious
rush only 7 long enough to drive dirty 7 , dust-
filled snow into the cracks and key 7 -holes,
to rattle the windows, to shake the little
frame houses, and to howl and shriek and
whistle about the chimney tops. The little
village was like a spectre. The houses w 7 ere
dark, desolate, seemingly deserted. Amid
the gloomy 7 twilight there w r as not a sound,
except the continuous moaning and creaking
of the trees, and a momentary roar as the
West Coast Limited, came rushing, like a
one-eyed monster, out of the distance, passed
with a meteor-like flash, and hid itself again
in the gathering night, leaving behind
nothing but a cloud of dust and flying
papers and a lonely mail pouch which
bounced and rolled about the brick platform
of the dingy, w 7 ooden station. The w 7 hole
thing was a depressing picture of gloom.
And this was Christmas Eve in . Wavnes-
ville! It was not the Christmas Eve with
the tinkle of sleigh-bells, the tinseled
Christmas tree, the tiny stockings hanging
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
by the glowing fireplace, the all-pervading
spirit of happiness and good cheer which
we know; it was not the Christmas Eve
which Harlan had formerly been used to,
but Harlan was different now.
It is not pleasant to tell the story of the
change that had come in Harlan’s life, for
it was a change from luxury to poverty,
from respect to disgrace, and with it came
a loss of friends and of home. It was the
change that had brought Harlan to Waynes-
ville, and he had come with but two pur-
poses: to make a living for his wife and
child, and to forget the past — the dark,
inevitable, unregretted past. There was no
remorse in the heart of Harlan for he
had given up all for Love. The woman
he loved was not a good woman, but
Harlan loved her.
Harlan’s father and mother knew nothing
of the marriage until in the morning paper
they saw a picture of their son and a strange
woman mounted side by side on a flaming
red, arrow -pierced heart, until they read
the sensational heading and the. accompany-
ing article, telling how the good name of
the Harlans had been besmirched by a
foolish boy’s love. They tore the paper to
fragments and threw it into the fire. They
raged and fumed at their son’s indiscretion
and rashness, and swore to disown their
own flesh and blood.
Then Harlan, in blissful ignorance of the
brewing storm, brought his newfr- wedded
wife home to his father’s house. He had
expected opposition; he found more. The
door of his own home was shut upon him ;
his mother would not even speak to_ him ;
his father spoke not as a father, but as an
enemy who hurled upon his head frightful
, Harlan had lost all, for with the love
of parents went the love of friends. He
had. made a real sacrifice; one of those
almost unendurable sacrifices which make
a man more God-like. He had given away
his birthright, his future, his good- name,
his friends, and his parents — everything
which - man holds dear. It was hard to
become an outcast upon Christmas Eve, that
one time of all times when the- Christian .
world forgets its sorrows. But Harlan,
alone— except for the wife he loved — turned
to meet the hard world with a: smile, on
his face, for he had lifted the woman he
loved up from the depths and had made
her good, true and noble.
It was this love offering that had brought
Harlan and his little family to Waynesville —
to Waynesville, because he was far from ■
the past, because to Waynesville no daily
papers ever came, because in Waynesville
good people even though poor would be
respected. But the three years spent in the
little village had been years- of want. It
had been impossible for Harlan to support
his wife as he wished; at times it would
have been hard to get food to eat had not
the people of Waynesville been kind; once
or twice discouragement had almost become
despair, but in spite of it all they managed
And now just three years had passed and
it was Christmas Eve, and the cold, the
bleakness, and the gloom outside reminded
Harlan of that awful feeling in his heart
on that other Christmas Eve three year
before w-hen he took one last look at the
home he never again could call his own
and then turned faint-hearted to begin the
new life. It was at such times as. this
that he pondered gloomily on the past.
Like a great, restless lion, Harlan paced
up and dorvn the little room. Suddenly, as
he passed the small centre table he spied
a letter, one his wife had evidently forgotten
to give him. It was a long, long letter in
the shaky writing, of his old mother and.,
on the pages were the stains of tears.
“My dear Boy: — “C ome back to us._ W r e
can not live without you. We understand
now and ask forgiveness—”' '
Harlan read no more. Great, strong man
as he was, he burst into tears. His .wife,
hearing his sobs, came running in from the
“Why, boy, what is the, matter?” and
she slipped a loving arm about his neck
and snuggled up close to him just as she
had on that other Christmas Eve, three
years before. And as he pointed to thedetstfer
he . stooped and kissed her. , nil
And -blue-eyed, dimple.-facefl! babj? Haarldn
patting, and cooing kolhisklirty, worn?, torn
rag doll, looked i up*. ! frKbinrr hisiikirigdomnon
- the qfieer 1 - fi^naredfiredli rfig > ajfidfi-^ondered
why ihfr' bijaganan: lands woiriafi^ii^hbniii Me
loved frerfe sL’iisfil xnsai slil lb
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
COE A. SICKEXXA, ’ 10 .
fART had returned from work a
'■ little earlier than usual ; it was
Christmas Eve and there realh’-
wasn’t very much to do, as every-
one was busily engaged buying
Christmas presents. His bache-
lor quarters were the most elegant in a
ver\r select flat on Seventh Street. The sit-
ting-room was simply but tastily furnished.
Three large windows opened on a well-kept
street, which at this time was bedded with
afoot of snow. The splendor of the district
in which he could be seen through the fleecy
blanket. A large holly wreath, hanging in
the centre window, lent a spirit of Christmas
to the apartments. In the dull light of
the fireplace and hanging-lamp, several
well-selected pictures, entirely in liarmony
with the surroundings, were outlined on
the wall. Rich green portieres separated
the room from a study equally as well
furnished. On the mantelpiece over the
fireplace but one object would attract the
attention of a visitor — the picture of a
beautiful young lady.
This Christmas evening, Martin- Rand olf
was comfortably seated in a large Morris
chair in front of the fireplace. It was cold
without and the warmth of the fire felt good.
He had sat this wav often before looking
at the picture above him while his mind,
fauc\' free, wandered over those old scenes
that had been so dear to him. .This evening
he had been more lonesome than ever; the
sight of so many happy present buyers on
the street during the afternoon had onfy
intensified his own loneliness.
Martin Randolf was alone in the great
Northwest. He had left friends and relatives
far behind and had journeyed to the land
of opportunity to gain his fortune and to
forget. No one had known where he .was
going, for he had slipped awaj r like a bird
loosed from his cage without leaving track
or trace of his destination. Seldom lie
communicated with his parents at home,
and when he did it was only to let them
know; that he was alive and well. None
of his many friends knew: what had become
of him, and he was fearful lest they should
find out and make it harder to forget. It
was the second Christmas since he had run
away from home; it was almost two years
since he had seen the girl he loved, and he
had not yet forgotten. No one that he had
yet seen could take the place of the girl
he left at home; no one did he ever expect
to see that he would like better. So the
one small memento which he had dared
carry away with him, was still the queen
of his mantel.
Those first days were long dreary days
of homesickness and self-denial. He had
plunged into his work with an energy that
he had never before known, and his suc-
cesses were not only attested Iw the splendor
of his living apartments but by a fat bank
account which ranked him even among the
wealthy men of the town. He had worked
wonders in two short years. He was not
satisfied ; there still remained the old wound
in his heart — the same longing for the girl
he loved. And as hq looked into those ey^s
on the mantel, those big brown eyes that
had burned an everlasting memory in his
breast, he saw how impossible it was to
forget. Women had no attraction for him;
he admired them for their beauty, but was
happier far in his quiet rooms, free from the
sham of the world. It can not be said that
he did not have many acquaintances, for
he was popular in society, and many invita-
tions came to him from admiring friends;
but as vet his heart was still true to the
girl he had loved far away.
The fii'e on the hearth burned low, and
the j-oung man aroused bimself and threw
a bucket of coals on the embers. He lit
his pipe, and as the smoke, rolled up in
miniature clouds he lay back in the chair
and watched the face on the, mantel. He
seemed, to see her again as he had seen
her at their last meeting, radiant and beau-
tiful like a rose on a June morning. He
recalled their last good-bye,— The good-by^
that was to end all, -forever. Such a little
thing they had quarrelled -about, a lover’s
quarrel if you will, .after which all mis-
understand ings should have been forgotten.
.But he never had. made himself believe that
she loved him. Always cool and reserved,
she had sent him away as unconcernedly
as she had received his most flattering
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
attentions. She had discovered too soon
that he loved her, and like the Irishman
who didn’t want his money when he saw
he could get it, she had grown cold to
his wooing and had gloried in seeing him
struggle to please her. He left her after
their quarrel, but she was confident he
He had gone his way. His very love
had prompted him to leave her to her own
happiness. He had made a fortune in the
land of his adoption, but there still remained
the longing for his native city, a thought
that possibly she .might yet be true. Another
man, he had often remarked to himself,
might have solved the problem differently.^
To him, but one course was open: she did
not love him and he' loved her; it was
for him to forget ; it was for him to change, -
and that change was attempted. He sighed
unconsciously and relit his half- smoked
pipe. The snow was falling outside, and
.an occasional sleigh bell broke the solitude.
The happy sleeper was awakened by
a" gentle knock on the door. A young
messenger responded to his “ Come in,” and
stood doubtfully on the threshold.
“Mr. Martin A. Randolf,” he read from a
package which he held in his hand.
“Sign here,” and he presented an order
book, pointing to a blank place at the end
of the page.
His signature given, he took the express
package and tore open the box. A beautiful
pair of jade cuff buttons were exposed and
with them a card bearing a signature that
made him almost shout with joy. “From
Norine Stranton, if you have not forgotten
her, wishing you a Merry Christmas and
a Happy New Year?” Had he forgotten ?
An old favorite song of hers came to his
mind, and with a rich base voice he ran
over the words : _
Forgotten, well if forgetting be thinking all the day,
How the long hours roll since you left me,
Then I hare forgotten you say, forgotten you’re away.
He turned the card over and saw this
OTTO A. SCHMID, ’09.
M O daisies dot the meadows with their golden petals'
No birds a-singing in the wood to fill my soul with
No tulip hides its fairy, face . beside the gurgling
No astors shine in shady glen, nor in the mossy
No golden sunset, skies which I so fondly now
Are here to brighten bleak December.
But on the heath and in the dell beneath the barren
Where fly the summer’s leaves before "the autumn’s
Is seen the squirrel’s haunt, and drifting from the
Comes down the snow that meekly kissed the fleecy
And merry Christmas, full of Yuletide joy, like glowing
Are here to brighten bleak December.
The Right Man. -
GEOHGE J. FINNIGAN, ’10.
T was the afternoon of Christ-
mas Eve about five o’clock,
when a large group of singers
descended from the choir-
gallery in the Cathedral at
Florence, and passing through
the large vestibule came out
into the avenue. They were nearly fifty in
number, and among them were the finest
singers of Signor Chetti’s Conservatory,
which means that they were the pick of
all Florence. Master Chetti was with them.
As they emerged from the church, all
stopped on the great stone steps and
grouped around a slender youth of about
twenty years of age, who stood beside
the master. I say all stopped, rather all
but one. There was one young man who
hurried down the walk to a carriage that
awaited him, gave ah angry order to the
short message inscribed :
“I. was married to Will Thurston last
Thursday. We are on our wedding trip coachman, and was soon speeding down
now. I was sorry- I could not see you. the avenue. It was Laurie, a young musi-
Could not stop as we are due in; Atala, cian, talented and even prominent, bnt
to-morrow. ‘ Norine. most jealous.
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
Meanwhile the group of singers on the
church steps, men and ladies alike, poured
forth hearty congratulations to the young
man who stood beside Signor Chetti.
“We are glad you were chosen, Giovanni,”
they declared enthusiastically^ ; “you will
undoubtedly’- realize from it a good position,
and you deserve it.
“Yes!” said the master, “the prince and
princess both’ are to be at midnight service,
and if Giovanni should do well,” with
a wink at Perillo, “it will mean their
favor, the outcome of which is generally
a splendid position. Giovanni, you have a
bright future before y r ou.”
“Yes, he has,” chimed in Perillo. “ I rather
expected to hear some better singing from
Laurie. Society has spoiled him. One might
judge by the way he left, that he didn’t
like this afternoon’s decisions very Well.”
The party soon broke up, all going to
their carriages, except the y-oung singer,
who, after receiving many good wishes
from all, walked briskly away r toward one
of the less beautiful parts of Florence. He
was happy as he walked toward home this
evening, and well might he be so. He had
been chosen from among all the musicians to
sing the Adeste Fideles at the cathedral.
But one dark thought passed before his
mind, eclipsing .for an instant the rays of
his happiness. It was the thought of Laurie.
Young Laurie had ever despised Giovanni
on account of his poverty. Both boys
had looked forward to this opening, and
Giovanni had been chosen. Something must
come of it. He felt that Laurie would not
pass it over lightly. Giovanni drove away
the thought, and hurried on to find his
mother and sister awaiting him at the
door. They were overjoyed at the news,
for they loved Giovanni dearly.
Meanwhile Laurie, speeding along in his
carriage, was boiling over with anger. To
think that Mario should have beaten him.
It was unbearable. What -would his friends
think? Could he stand* for such a defeat?
No! Mario must not sing. What should he
do ? His evil mind set to work and had
soon concocted a devilish plan to keep
Giovanni froith being present at the mid-
night service. :
Stopping the carriage he gave the driver
another order, and in about five minutes
was landed before a large wooden house in
an unfrequented part of Florence. The door
was opened by r a servant, who nodded her
head in answer to the question, “Is David
here ? ” Running up the stairs, Laurie burst
into a room at the top. The air was filled
with cigarette smoke, like incense, surround-
ing a little table where three young men
sat gambling. As Laurie entered, all looked
up and asked him to join the game.
“Not now,” he answered, “I am in a
hurry and I came down because I want you
fellows to do something for me.”
“It’s done. What is it?” answered the
largest of the young men.
Laurie then told the story of the singing
contest and how Giovanni, whom he
despised, had beaten him. “You fellows have
always been good friends of mine, and we?ve
stuck together,” he added. “I don’t pro-
pose to be run over by Mario; I intend to
sing to-night. Stay by me and you’ll not
“Out with your plan,” they shouted.
“Well,” answered Laurie, “no matter
what it costs, Mario must be kept away
from the cathedral. There is no need of
treating him too easy. I want to be sure.
This is my plan. You know where the old
canal goes across Cavour Avenue?”
“Well, don’t stare so; I want you three
to throw him into it.”
“Into the canal!” they cried, for bad as
they were, this particular kind of treatment
on a winter’s night did not appeal to them.
“Do you know that it’s going to be a cold
“Yes,” answered Laurie, desperately,
“that’s what I want. The water isn’t over
three feet deep, since the canal went out
of use, so he couldn’t drown. - Mario
will walk past there about half- past
eleven; he will not have time to return
home, change clothes and be at the cathedral
by midnight. I will be standing quietly by
the organ, and when Mario doesn’t show
up, Chetti will ask me to sing in his place.
To-morrow the prince will send for me,
then all kinds of engagements and money.
This is where you fellows will come in.”
After much persuasion from Laurie and
objection from Joe, the youngest of the
three, they decided to do it.
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
“All right,” concluded Laurie,” I’ll depend
on you. The bridge is very wide. Wait for
him at the farthest end, part of the railing
has been torn down there, and you can
shove him off with no trouble. Remember,
about half-past eleven,” and he went down
the stairs and home, exulting in his evil plan.
The night proved to be a dark one and
Laurie pulled his coat tightly about him,
for it was cold, as he went toward the part
of the cit\ r where the Marios lived, to see
if Giovanni took the usual course to the
cathedral. If he went in a different way
some other scheme must be followed, for
Laurie had sworn that Giovanni should not
sing that night. It was about eleven o’clock.
A little later, three men might have been
seen going north to the Cavour Avenue
bridge. ' When they arrived at the canal,
the}’- examined their surroundings. The
water was only about three feet deep, but
the drop from the bridge was fully twent\\
Going to the farthest end of the crossing
they looked for the broken railing.
“Pie has made a. mistake,” said David, the
biggest fellow, “there is no opening here.”
“Perhaps it’s at the other end.”
They went to the front end of the bridge
and there found the break in the railing.
“Just the thing,” said the second man,
“we uill stand right here. It’s pitch dark.”
“S-h-h — !” whispered the fellow next to
him, “there comes Mario.”
All looked down the avenue, and under
the first gas-light, dim as it was, they saw
“Lie low, fellows,” said David, “I’ll be
kicked if he isn’t scared of the dark; he’s
running. He's close now; just a second;
all together; now!” There was a- spring, a
shove, a heart-rending yell, and the form
of the young singer was hurled into the
cold water below.
The three men hurried across the bridge,
cut through several alleys onto the main
street where they walked leisurely for several
minutes before directing their steps toward
the cathedral, and arrived at the cathedral
just as the organ was playing the intro-
duction to the Adeste Fideles. The great
concourse of people was stilled ; all strained
their eyes and ears toward the young singer
who stepped to the front of the balcony.
The prelude finished, the youth began to
sing. How beautiful was his voice. Everyone
marveled. Year after year they had heard
the Christmas hymn sung, but never so
beautifully as now. The prince -turned
around, the princess sat enraptured, the
nobles nudged each other and exchanged
significant glances. The three accomplices
of Laurie listened. They had never heard
Laurie sing before. What a voice he had !
After the first verse, one of them glanced
up to where he stood. Could he believe his
eyes? Turning to the two beside him he
gasped: “It isn’t Laurie; it’s Mario.”
“Mario? Impossible!” They turned and
looked toward the balcony. There stood
Giovanni, his handsome face radiant, his
whole demeanor expressive of the beautiful
hymn which he was singing.
Three scared and excited men slipped out
of the church and sped toward the canal.
“We must have made a mistake,” said
David, “Laurie will be our enemy forever
for our not getting the right man. Curse
Arrived at the Cavour bridge, they crossed
to the place from which they had thrown
the person in, and stopped. A faint moan
satisfied them that some one was on the
shore below. Groping down the bank they
stumbled on a prostrate form. It lay partly
in and partly out of the water.
“Get to work, fellows,” said Joe, “we can
not let the fellow die, rub his legs and arms
fast, strike a light, Dave; all right, hold it
up here. My God, it’s Laurie!”
The match was dropped, the three men
took off their coats which they wrapped
around him. After a time Laurie opened
“Take me home, fellows,” he said.
“How did you happen to be here, ’1 asked
“I was down by Mario’s house, when
Master Chetti’s carriage came for Giovanni.
I rushed up here to tell you fellows to go
to the church and get him away in some
manner after he left the carriage. I thought
you were at the other end of the bridge,
so didn’t call soon enough. I’m cured.
You got the right man after all.”
Meanwhile Giovanni, his song long fin-
ished, knelt to offer thanksgiving for his
success. His last words before leaving the
cathedral were a prayer for Laurie.
236 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
Notre Daihe Scholastic
Published every Saturday during Term Time at the
University of Notre Dame.
ntered as second-class matter at the Post Oftce, Notre Dame, lnd.
Terms: $1.50 per Annum. Postpaid.
Address: THE EDITOR NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC.
Notre Dame, Indiana.
Notre Dame, Indiana, Christmas) 1907.
Board of Editors.
ROBERT L. BRACKEN, ’OS WILLIAM LENNARTZ, -'OS
FRANCIS T. MAHER, ’OS VARNCM A. PARISH, ’09
IGNATIUS E. MCXAMEE. ’09 JAMES J. QUINLAN, ’OS
JOSEPH J. BOYLE, ’OS JAMES J. FLAHERTY, ’OS
EDWARD M. KENNEDY, ’OS ROBERT L. SALEY, ’OS
FRANCIS X. CULL, ’09 OTTO A. SCHMID, ’09
GEORGE J. FINNIGAN, ’10 COE A. MCKENNA, ’10
RICHARD COLLENTINE, ’09 EDWARD P. CLEARY, ’09
HARRY A. LEDWIDGE, ’09 PETER E. HEBERT, ’10
— The observance of Christmas to-day
reminds one in many respects of a practice
among the Romans who, after
- The True Spirit harvest-time, set aside eight
- of days which were given up
Christmas. to revelry, indulgence, . and
amusements. Feasting, merri-
ment and the pleasure of wine mark this
period known as the feast of the Saturnalia,
The season has, to a great extent, lost
the real spirit with which it should be
celebrated. -. There should, unquestionably,
be some enjoyment, but let this be coupled
with true geniality and love, — that feeling of
“ Peace on earth and good will to man-
kind,”— and then we shall have struck
the note that should dominate the festivitv
— It is with very special pleasure that we
draw the attention of our readers to our
new cover design. As was to be interred
from an earlier announcement,
Our it is the Tyork of an artist
New Coyer.- whose skill is recognized by the
best illustrated magazines in
the country. Of this particular work of art
nothing need be said; -it speaks for itself
eloquently, and is a credit to the artist
whose name it bears— T. Dart Walken
tenth of the month was celebrated
|[1 | as President’s Day. In the morning
W/j |\ Solemn High Mass was sung by
Father Cavanaugh, assisted by r Father
Crumley as deacon and Father Schumacher
as subdeacon. At ten o’clock the University
Band discoursed music in the University-
rotunda. At noon a sumptuous banquet
was served to the students, Faculty and a
large number of invited guests. The dining-
room was tastefully decorated and a suitable
menu prepared. The University Orchestra
was present and added greatly to the enjoy-
ment of everyone. At two o’clock the
University Dramatic Society presented a
play called “The Half-Back.” Here again the
orchestra contributed largely to the success
of the- program, as did the University Glee
Club also., The latter organization made a
remarkable showing and was most enthu-
siastically praised for its excellent work.
The first number on the program was
assigned to Mr. John Bertcling, President
of the. Senior Class, who delivered a brief
address to Father Cavanaugh in which he
made an appeal for the organization of the
Alumni. Association, a movement in which
the President of the University is known to
be specially interested.
The play was unusually well rendered. To
mention those who did surprisingly well
would be to mention all who took part in
it. Great praise is due to them, all, to W.
Ryan, F. Zink, R. McNally, H. McAleenan,
J. Kanaley, L. McPartlinj L. Livingston, W.
Dolan, C. Sorg, G. Sprenger, T. Dunbar, and
H. Hilton. It might be said that Messrs.
Hilton, Sprenger, and McAleenan displayed
more than ordinary talent in the interpreta-
tion of their parts, and a similar compliment
might be paid to Messrs. Zink, Kanaley,-
McNalty, and Ryan.^ It is, to say the least,
remarkable that the standard of excellence
was so uniformly; high.
The success of the program suggests : a
tribute of praise hot only to the actors and
members of the orchestra and glee club, but
also to Professors Farrell, Petersen and
Griffith, and also to Mr, T. Dart Walker,
the artist who designed the cover of the
souvenir program. Prominent am ong. the
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
guests who were present may be mentioned
Fathers De Groote, Zubowicz, Gorka, Gruza,
Moensch, Schramm, Jansens, Houlihan and
McCabe; judge Howard, Dr. Berteling, Dr.
Olney, Messrs. Studebaker, O'Brien, Clarke,
Wyman, O’Neill, Oliver, Stoll, Mclnerny,
Harley, and Hubbard.
The closing address which was made by’
Father Cavanaugh in his usual happy style
was as follows:
Gentlemen* ok the University: — I am sure I am
only interpreting 3*0111* own thought when I say that
the ‘ exercises this afternoon perpetuate the best
traditions of Washington Hall. The orchestra has
delighted but not surprised us, for like the college
band, which we heard to such advantage this morning,
it has taught us to expect only* the best. The glee
club has both surprised and delighted us, for it is
the infant" among our college organizations. This is
its first appearance, and it makes me dizzy to think
of the heights it will attain to bef >re Commencement.
The acting of the play* was uniformly fine and artistic
and revealed great talent as well as patience and
labor on the fart of professor and students. The
impersonations were remarkably clever, and some of
the parts proved conclusively that the students of
Notre Dame arc not onlv " perfect gentlemen,” but that
when occasion requires thc3* can be perfect ladies and
gentlemen. A welcome touch of realism was derived
from the fact that the Varsity* quarterback won the
mimic game as he 'has helped to win games in more
serious emergencies. The professor may have helped
him with the speeches and the gestures; but I am
convinced that he could not teach him anything about
the game that was played just around the corner a
But after all there is something better than play-
ing the game, and that is playing the man. The
members of oui* football team this 3*ear especially
have shown not only that they could play, the game
but also that they* could play the man. I am glad
to quote the words of Mr. Barry*, who told me
only a few days ago, that he had enjoyed the
acquaintance of men of many colleges, and that
nowhere else had he ever met 3’oung men so clean
and gentlemanly and, high-minded as the men who
composed the Notre Dame football team this. year.
And what has been said of our athletes lw one who
knew them intimately, I may say* of the whole .student
body*. Indeed human life is. much like the. game' of
football. It is often. said that this form of' sport is
brutal, but. life itself is, in many* ways, brutal. . The
weaklings are flung heavily to the earth and trampled
underfoot.. There is an element of luck in life as there
is in football, but every* player knows that to‘ trust to
a fluke lor the victory* is to court disaster and- defeat.
The' game in both .cases requires good material, but
when the. material is present the game is won by* head
work. In both instances severe training is. necessary,
abstinence from dissipation and the influences which
softeu and disintegrate. In life as in football clean
playing is necessary* if .white- winged honor is to perch
on the standard of victory. Finally the secret of
success in both life and play is to Jireak through the
interference — to fight one’s way to the goal of honor-
able ambition in spite of all obstacles and impediments.
The man who falls out of the game when he receives
a little hurt in the first scrimmage, is never acclaimed
as a hero.
There is a lesson of cheer and comfort in this for
those of us who find discouragement in our college
work. If you meet /with occasional disappointments it is
wholesome to remember that thepath of disappointment
has been trod by every man Who has mounted into
the company* of the immortals. For years Columbus
went round Europe starving from gate to gate before
his indomitable will and unquenchable faith in himself
won the day* and gave to the world a new continent
and to humanity* a new hero. If you feel that for any
cause you are handicapped in the race of life- remember
that the race has not always been to the swift, and
that “adversity is the north wind that lashes men
into vikings.’ 5
Last year I stood on the steps of a great college
when a gentleman pas c ed within, and my companion,
a bright, young Congressman, lifted his hat and said:
“Good morning, Governor.” I locked in astonish-
ment, for the man so addressed had the apipearance
of. a. college boy* of twenty. It .was Governor Higgins
of Rhode Island, a poor boy who might well have
felt handicapped and discouraged in his youth, for
the first book he ever read he dug out of an
ash barrel. - Let no one feel discouraged, : then, if
disappointments come, for in life, as in football, "it
is the man whobreaVs through the interference that
reach- s the goal and makes a touchdown.
I thank all out friends -for the evidences of devo-
tion to the University, winch this day has brought
forth. Especially I acknowledge with gratitude and
pride the fine spirit of loyalty* and- enthusiasm that
I find everywhere . .among the * students. Manly in
character, serious in study*, cheerful in obedience, they
are an inspiration to tis of the Faculty* to put
forth our noblest effort for the development of this
venerable University*. The continuance of this spirit
is the surest promise of the blessing of Almighty God
and the success of our. Alma Mater.-. . ,•
Reception of the Habit-
On the 8th of December the following young
men receive’d the religious habit in St. Joseph’s
Novitiate: Paul Bates (Brother Isidore, C.S. C.) , -
Duquoin, 111. ; Aloysius Machalin (Brother
Theophilus, C. S. C.), line, Pa.: M. Jablonowski
(Brother Edwin, C. S. C.), Chicago, 111 ; Charles -
. McN amara ( Brother . Augustine, C. S. C. ), Lim-
erick; A. Skora (Brother Casimir, G. S.. C.), ...
Chicago, 111.; Harry Sheehan (Brother Edward,
C. „S. . C. -), New York; Marion Nushaunier,
(Brother . Meinard, C. S. -C.), Massillon, Ohio.
Rev. W. Connor officiated. . .
Varsity Oratorical Contest.
The Annual Oratorical Contest for the Breen
Gold Medal was_ held in Washington Hall on
the evening of December 7. The program was
enlivened by the University Orchestra which
played three numbers in a manner which elicited
generous applause. The contest was won by
Joseph Boyle who spoke on “Christianity and
the World’s Peace.” William Lennartz was
second with “America and the World’s Peace.”
Varnum Parish was awarded third place, his
subject being “The Spirit of the Celt.”
‘ 1 Cardinal de Richelieu : Exponent of Abso- .
lutism” was the title of the oration delivered
by the winner of fourth place, Reed Parker.
The winner of first place will represent the
University . at Indianapolis, February 7.
Mr.' Boyle is to be commended for the fine
oratorical passages which characterized his
speech ; he has a splendid climax and uses it to
good" advantage in his deliver}’’. Mr. Eennartz
was better iii delivery than the winner, but
lacked the emotional warmth which is looked
for in an oration; otherwise his paper was
excellent. Mr. Parish did remarkably well for
his first public appearance, and was supported
by- - ver} 1 - persistent applause. Mr. Parker will
be a winner some day, and a strong winner
at that. The decision of the judges on the
contest is as follows:
NAMES OF JUDGES
NAMES OF CONTESTANTS PLC
Bojle | 1 |
Lennartz _ | 2 j
Parish | 3 |
| 3j 2
Parker | 4 |
v Those who read the accounts in our football
issue may have noticed that through an over-
sight mention was not- made of the fact' that
Ryan, our quarter-back, was chosen by nearly
.every critic for a position on the All-State team.
By Coach Turner of Purdue, Ryan was chosen
quarter -back and captain of the All -Indiana
team ; others, also, gave him a place. -
* v i
Philopatrians’ Parlor Entertainment.
The college parlor presented a pretty picture
on the evening of the 12th of the month, when
the Philopatrians gave their annual reception
to the President of the University and the
Faculty. The program consisted of twelve
numbers of instrumental music and recitations
rendered in" a manner that was a source of
pleasure to all -who were present. These young
gentlemen of Carroll Hall have much to boast
of and have good reason to congratulate them-
selves that the}* have so energetic a director ;
and Brother Cyprian himself has reason to
be proud of the members -of his society.
Those who took part in the program were
the following: R. Rousseau, J. Monaghan, C.
Tyler, R. Newton, J. Thornton, R. Bowles,
W. Downing, L. Livingston, J. Gallart,
J. Nugent, J. Kry.l and H. Carroll. The
program, was closed with a few appreciative
remarks made by Father Cavanaugh. The
members of the society then repaired to the
dining-room where refreshments were served.
On the following Saturday the program was
reproduced in the presence of all the members
of Carroll Hall; the exercises were held- in
the reading-room, and several members of the
Faculty participated in the pleasures of the
evening. Additional numbers of the program
were rendered by C. Sinclair, W. Cotter and J.
Fordyce. The President of the University
was present and delivered a short address, sug-
gesting to the young men who heard him the
necessity of nobility in all their actions.
The Corby Reception.
The members of the Corby Literary Society
deserve much- credit for their elaborate recep-
tion and smoke talk given Saturday evening
December fourteenth in honor of the Faculty
and members of the Varsity football team.
Doubtless this event was the most elaborate of
its kind ever given in the history of Notre
Dame, and it will go down to the credit of
Corby hall that it has established a standard
of excellence which will be difficult to surpass.
Carefully worked out in every detail, the enter-
tainment and banquet was carried on without
a single flaw. . . . ..
With the usual spirit that has always char-
acterized the students of Corby Hall neither
pains nor money were spared to make this event
memorable in the social life of the University.
Two hundred invitations were sent out and as
many cleverly arranged programs were presented
at the door. The programs themselves were
beautifully made in the form of a football. The
Corby Hall reading-room was decorated as it
had never been before. Yards and yards of
artistically entwined crepe paper covered the
ceiling. Banners, pennants and college colors
hung from the walls.
The banquet — for no other word could do •
justice to the refreshments — was most elaborate
in every detail. Cold chicken, olives, ' buns
and coffee, constituted the first course, and ice-
cream, cake and lemonade-punch, the second
course. After the refreshments cigars were
passed around, and the remainder of the evening
was spent in smoking and in dancing to music
by the Corby Orchestra. It was a late hour
before the jollity ceased.
The program we have intentionally left till
the last. The entire space could be devoted
to its description. Of the stars fhere were none,
for the whole program was of the highest quality.
After a selection by the Corby' Orchestra the
address of welcome was delivered by Mr. W.
Hutchins in a masterly manner. The parodies
by Mr. Roan and the rymes by Mr. Heyl were *
ver}^ clever. Dr. Delaunay spoke eloquently on
“Discretion • in Art.” Other numbers were
rendered by L. Langdou, J. Topez, J. Deery, '
S. Skahen, and T. Dunbar.
Father Cavanaugh voiced the sentiments of
all yvhen he complimented the members of
Corby Hall in the: fullest measure for the
success of the entertainment.
On the evening of December 9th the students
of Brownson Hall gave a formal reception to
the President of the University and invited
guests. The study-hall was decorated in a
manner that both pleased and surprised; one
would hardly have thought that so marvelous
a change could be made in so short a time.
The external preparations were, indeed, an
earnest of the excellence of the program. The
Brownson Glee Club presented three numbers
and won a place in the hearts of all present.
To give due praise to each individual who
took part in the exercises would be to wrestle .
with superlatives beyond the limits of the -
dictionary. Suffice it to mention their names
and extend to them all most sincere con-
gratulations on the success of their efforts.
The individual numbers on the program were
taken by J. Sullivan, J. Ety, R. Wilson, E.
Carville, W. Moore, J. O’ Flynn, JYCoggeshall,
E. McDermott, F. Madden, H.- Burdick, G:
McCarthy, J. Dixon, J. Moloney, ’and Bro.-
Alphonsus. At' the conclusion of the exercises
there was a short address by 'the President of
the University. ’ ....
Notre Dame G. A. R. Ppst No. 569-
The . regular election of officers for the
ensuing year was held Dec. 9th with the
following result: Commander James McLain
(Bro. Leander), Senior Vice-Commander Mark
A. Wills (Bro. John), Junior Vice-Commander
Rev. Edward Martin, Adjutant Nicholas Bath
(Bro.- Cosmas), Quartermaster Joseph Staley.
(Bro. Isadore), Surgeon Rev. Father Schmitt,
Chaplain Rev. R. J. Boyle, Officer of the day
Ignatz Meyer (Bro. Ignatius), Officer of tiie
Guard James Malloy (Bro. Raphael), Sergeant
Major John Mclnerney (Bro. -Eustachius),
Quartermaster Sergeant James Mantele (Bro.
Benedict). Resolutions were passed to have a
life-sized statue of Rev. William Corby, C.S.C.,
on the rock on which he stood while giving
absolution to the Irish Brigade on the battle- '
field of Gettysburg.
We regret to announce the death of the '
Rev. P. E. Reardon, of the' archdiocese of New
York, who passed away on the 5th instant.
Father Reardon was a member of the class
of ’97 (A. B.). His career as a priest was
as brillianb as it was .brief. R. J. P. •'
The sympathy of the members of the Faculty
and the students of the University, is extended
to Professor J. L. Tanner who was called to his
home in Utica, N. Y., on account of the
serious illness of his father. Word, has been -
received that Mr. Tanner was called to his -
final .reward only a few days ago. . May his .
soul , rest in peace.. .y .-..v
NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC
On Thursday evening, December the twelfth,
the Sophomore class held their first social meet-
ing of the year in the form of a rough-house
smoke - talk. The usual formality that cliar-
•acterizes such meetings was noticeably absent.
After refreshments, cigars and cigarettes were
passed around, the speech-making and story-
telling began. President Dolan acted as toast-
master. The principal speakers of the class
were Mr. McNally, who talked on college
spirit, and Mr. Hebert on class enthusiasm.
Mr. Graham, a member of the class last year,
was warmly welcomed and responded most
Mr. Fournier and Mr. Hollearn, each ren-
dered selections on the piano, and Mr. Moriarty
played on the violin. The class of 1911 is
filled with enthusiasm, and is already planning
for other entertainments next term. The
members of the Faculty who were present
were: Rev. Father Cavanaugh, Father Schu-
macher, Father Murphy, Father Quinlan,
Father O’Malley and Father Marr.
Lecture by Mr. S. E. Doane.
Mr. S. E. Doane, member of the American
Institute of Electrical Engineers and an author-
ity on incandescent lights, delivered, a lecture
before the Electrical and Mechanical Engineers
on the manufacture and recent development of
Mr. Doane laid particular - stress upon the
new Tungsten lamp which is of recent develop-
ment. He predicts that 'in residence lighting,
“ all-day- lighting” of rooms will be the near
future fad. The reason for this is that well-
lighted rooms are very desirable, and where
the cost to operate the Tungsten lamp is
but one-third the cost to operate the ordinary
incandescent lamp this new fad is likely to
materialize. First cost is the only objectionable
feature of the lamp at present, though within
five years the lamp will be the only type of
incandescent used. Mr. F. A. Bryan, Manager
of the South Bend Electric Company, and some
of his employees were present, and also Mr.
H. H. Albert, Sales-Manager of the standard
Electric Company, Niles, Ohio. 1 . ■
Victor and his Royal Venetian Band scored
a triumph in Washington Hall on the afternoon
of the 6th. Better music has not been heard
at the University for some time, and no number
of the lecture and concert course has been
better received. The solo work was satisfactory,
very much so if one has in mind the character
of the entertainment. In respect to the vocal
solos it might be more particularly stated that
nothing better could be desired. Miss Laurie
has a remarkable voice. The selections pre-
sented by the band were unusually felicitous and
were greeted with rounds of heartiest applause.
Harry Miller of Defiance, Ohio, was elected
captain of the 1908 Varsity football team. The
election was held the night of the annual
banquet at the Oliver Hotel in South Bend.
Miller was without question the man for the
place: Not only is he a brilliant player, but
he has everything a successful captain should
have. ‘ .He is above all else a clean player.