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VOL. XL. NOTRE .DAiVIjE,, INDIANA, NOVEMBER 24, 1906. No. 17 .

S o c i a l i s m .

GEORGE J." FIXXIGAX.

I N ecstacA' the sun pours forth its gold, And sends each raA- upon an errand'blest;

Fresh beams within their bosoms graces:hold, " Which carr^- with thcni peace and. joA' and rcst.^.'

Nor does it cease its noble work, _ -: Buy in, di\y out, it rains its gifts on all,

Where bright J03' reigns, or sorrow's dark clouds lurk, On good and bad its benedictions fall."

As suns, so we, kind words our golden VaA's,'. -• . Our deeds should burn with .cheerfulness and love;

To cheer sad hearts and light, to men God's ways, Is our grand work ass'gncd ii s from above.

'Tis better far to give than to retain; . .. • -It costs not much and-manifold'"thc'gain'.^' ' '

Life • and-eRoetry. •r '" . '

ALBERT E . BLIX, .V. Bj'-

H E N man 's experience of life;"' g rows wider and deeper, when' -age and reflection gift him "with" sharper insight and more pierc-' ing sagac'it3', he is imp¥essed wi th a more vivid sense of his

divine origin and destiny and of ' the empti-" ' ness of the material -universe, tmless he regards it as the vestibule t o another world, as real, na3% more real, since i t is the one everlasting realit\^ He also acquires a more pronounced inclination t o w i thd raw instiiic- " tively from the visible world and t o retire into the-"secret chambers of his hcaj - t ' to quench tliere,' in' the perennial fountaih;'Vf. life, i ts thirst for 'uprightness. ' B\' 'fepcated ''] contact with- ' that jpiirer and diviner ^sphere he is enabled t b cast off his woridiifl"e&s;'/'to.'

rest, t o refresh himself and t o d r a w ne-vr' energies t o fight valiantly on. I t is there,* a t the fountainhead of all Aatality t ha t -the p o e t sees and feels grea t and noble t r u t h s ; t h a t the mystic, i n ' unspoken, uri-ivritteii melodj'V communes -with God-alone. Gaze into the "ho ly of holies" of your soul and you become a "va t e s , " a mystic, or a poet, or both.

Long before Huxlej'- had uttered his biological axiom: ^^ Omne viwni ex TIYO,"

Pla to , the enlightened pagan, who, perhaps, ' soared nearest t o the lofty regions of t ru th , had, although imperfectly, conceived a n ' eternal":'7o^o living in the souls of men, ' 'an- indelible touch, of God's finger updti the human heart . '^'We are p lants ," hs says, " n o t of ear th bu t of heaven, and from the same source whence the first soul arose, a divine nature, raising aloft, our h e a d ' arid root , directs our whole bodily frame." The great exponent of this doctrine of life' is the poet and philosopher' w h o " has -written- i t in the Grand Old Book. '^ Otii-Filwm hahet. habet yitam; qui non habet Filwm, Titam non babet" this is the foundation of Catholic m^'sticism as also the chief source of all t rue poetry. Mj-sticism and poetry, proceeding from the same cause, are t w o forms of one life, and ' a r e never so expressive as -when' they are united. Both originating in the one ' eternal principle may sometimes be diverging from each other, bu t they con-versre again and are focused in t h a t same One Eternjil Principle, w i t h o u t having^lost the symbol of their kinship, the Alpha and Omega 's tamped upon them.

Diminution of life, generates- decay. This l aw is true in spiritual as well as in na tura l biology; in like manner, i t is. t rue in both sciences t h a t life is the principle of gro-wth, ;

l62 NOTRM DAME SCHOLASTIC.

The "deitA'^ in- our bosom," as Shakespeare t ranslates the "Regnum Dei intra vos e s t " of.Hoh' Writ, is the nucleus of all knowledge. No real knowledge can be had wi thout real life. Beautiful and dazzling as are crj'^stals, when they reflect in multiple colors the rays of the sun the3^ are mere results, not of g rowth but of accretion, and are surpassed in splendor bj ' the lilies of the fields. Ideas must be assimilated and made our own or thej'' will clog our whole being with t h a t other life which, as Ruskin expresses i t in his vigorous st3de, " instead of growing and blossoming under any wholesome de\v, is crj'stallized over with i t as wi th hoar frost, and becomes t o the-true life w h a t an arborescence is ±6 a tree, a candied agglomeration of thoughts and habi ts foreign t o it, brittle, obstinate, and ic3', which can neither bend nor grow^, but Uiust be crushed and broken t o bits if i t s tand in our wa3' ." All Ave think and love iind do is vital onl3'' when i t sporita-neousl3'^ springs from within. F a r from destro3'ing an\-thing, this inner life impar ts t o everx'thing its- own fecundit3'^, purif3'ing all the faculties of the soul and marking upon the ver3^ features of the countenance an expression of iiifinite depth. Without it, life, moral, social or intellectual, however niceh' i t ma3^ have been fashioned by a refined civilization, contains a seed of death. This is wh3' the most impor tan t function of culture is t o augment the interior life of man unt i l - i t A'ields ' 'very much fruit;" A frequent touch \vith higher things, either through direct communion w^ith the Divinity, or through reading thos^e poets \?\ho have in the most humane manner manifested t o the world their own philosoph^'^ of life, will permanenth'- fulfil this function. And this, also,-is. a test of t rue poet ry ; t h a t the more poets have been, consciousl3'^ or uncon­sciously, par takers of the divine life, their w^orks have been the more enduring and their power t o ;educate the minds and the hearts of men the more efficient.

"When life is t rue t o the poles of na tu re , " Emerson said, ' ' t he streams of t r u th will roll through us i n . song." The soul is essentially musical. Like an asolian lyre, which renders, under the softest breeze, a celestial melody, i t responds by a spiritual harmpnj ' whenever the spirit breathes forth, Jjirpugh thought or emgtioiij i ts song of

praise .and love t o the. Creator. On this innate . poetry of the soul, Joubert has writ ten one of his^best pages: "Natitralh'^," he sa3'S, ."the.^ soul sings t o itself whatever beauty there is, and. when the style is a habi t of the,soul , there is a danger t o be avoided.: i t , . is song; i t is the excess of musical harmony ,.in , the st3le and the introduction, involuntar3' and almost con­tinual, of rhythm and verse into prose; it is a t rue defect, al though, in a perfect prose, every S3'llable, I believe, is counted and even weighed., But one must break t h a t too explicit song, not , through a wariness of details Ijut through u general moderation and proibund, reserve of the soul, which, in the.feiir t o sing, lessens the rh3'^thm of the

. Avords, .renders,"it almost insensible, in the .same hiJinher as it concentrates into itself, \v i th . discretion,' the . enthusiasm of its thought , and .keeps, i t intimate, hidden, almost insensible, but the more irresistible and the more, penetrat ing." "

No m o r e . t h a n life itself can poetr3'^ be defined: the throbbing of a heart longing for perfection, the . life-warmth of luminous souls delighting in the. clear fipprehension of goodness, t ru th and beaut3', the overflow of-an energetic inward life and the sentiment of its. high possibilities, i t is primaril3^ w h a t Wordswbrtth; calls i t : "The breath and finer spirit of .all knowledge," purified bv the divine fire within. Poets are the children of harmony, of the universal harmon3^ of refined souls. _ Their finger ahva3'^s leaves upon all i t touches some phosphorescent glow out of ..which every other poet 's heart may bC; enkindled with an increased ^love for beauty and. .perfection., From, their souls, there . f low rivers of li\ang ,waters open tu. ^U.whja.go t o their works for an increase, of.life; . v h a t AVC do not understand when' \v;e; read them, if we read them well, we shair , understand in. ~". the dav of Yisitatioh.\'.. , , . .

jCife j s emotion and poetr3'; i ts quicken in t h r b u g h s y m p a t h y \yith the whole universe Emotion is the measure of existence:.thin2£ unfelt are no t s?en. .To be alive one must realize .life.^ Sensitiyeness and consciousness are the main^powers of essential hfe. I t is by them tha t . ..ppets have been qualified t o awaken us . i tp . the supreme reality of eternal truths, t o kindk apcj thrill us witli

a

MOTRE DAME - SCHOLASTIC: .16-1 o

an ideal of love and- hate,- of fear . or downward propensity of nature and t h e courage, of shame or-^honor, and tb. lead "d im touch of earthly t h i n g s " strongly us into the very life of things; ' Ohlyifhat tend t o snatch the most robust will from which issues from-their" heart's "calti bend, "the life i t aspires t o lead. The springs of the hearts of others t d ' t h e i r ' o w n . I n ' t h e action are slackened; i t is then .-that; we philosophy of life as d l s o i n that" of'jpoetry, mus t go t o the works of keen and delicate this is an impor tan t principle:' t o cbhvihce souls t o absorb a little of. their warmth , and move others. Fai th , an-unyielqling;faith, and \vith fresh delight feel perhaps in the must be had in wha t one" believes'* t o be veiy powerlessness-of their speeclierriQtipns good and beautiful. Alone, thoughts filled t h a t shall forever remain unexpressed. The with emotion can gene ra t e ' emot ion . 'The ideal existence, they set forth., is the poem most interesting, stimulating and "¥efresmng of humanity. When emotion, .awakened, in pieces of l i terature are those where man has its presence and by contact wi th , i t , is made wri t ten his "own thought in pfesencfe of him- glowing; by i ts own intensity and assunaes self and for himself wi thout regard'of. w h a t the musipal ga rb given i t by the hear t of might be said of them. Si. ' Atigustine l ias an art is t , i t becomes a clear and sonorous thus conquered a place-amo'hg the-classics echo of the voice within, ra mysterious of the world. This is 'always t rue I'lm'iiib'rtal medium t o communicate wi th .other men's w^orks are those thait have orfgiriated"from souls, t o increase, their life.and raise .their, sympathetic feeling deeply "rooted-in alhteart s tandard in bringing home t o them t ru ths edticated aiid discipl ined 'but untdiibhed t h a t have been neglected .and possibly and • unpetrified by the spirit of system'aiad forgotten, bu t the remembrance of which artificiality. " I f is warmth ; " Jouber t ' says , i s s t i l l capable to lift them, and help them " a n d almost human siibstance which giVes through- the arduousness. and 'materiali ty t o all things t h a t quality'whicK, chhrms of daily life. Thus, the poets, have come t o us . " With him we w a n t the iii'an, thV life, be regarded as the revealers and the inter-the soul; for •the3'-, and" they,lonlj-, can preters of man 's na tura l .yearning after ennoble our manhobd, mold'-^oiir ""life and excellence. Through, them, eve;ry. scene of elevate our soul. Every ' ihan '^ ' thought , beauty, every elevated thpught , instils in to as thought , is interesting, "for; i t is. . the his very life-blood more courage and more revelation of a soul, a manifestation"., of enthusiasm t o dare the noblest and do life. Once more, w h a t we l o o k ' f o r ' i s ' t h e the best. . . \ . thought containing a s o u r ' a n d :the 'soul . Human life is the same a t all epochs.. In containing God. • - ' "" ' ',''"' every man there is a hear t . t ha t beats, a

Genuine emotion arises' cliiefl'y if . no t mind t h a t thinks and a soul t h a t ; loves, entirelj'^, from the consciousness "of our o\N;n The p a r t of poetrj- is t o increase, the beat-life.. Wha t hes deepest in our being,' when ing of the heart, t o improve the thought in i t the divine likeness " has " riot b"e(en of the.mirid, and t o puriiy t h e love pf the altogether atrophied, is a boundless 'and soul ; . in other words, t o create a . g r e a t life-giving faith in what ' -^-e adinire kiid heart and great thoughts and. a loving love and long for. Roused by: the itimbst soul. The real, inspiring, world-\^nde sym-aspirations of the soul and 'by the m^hiory pa thy which these inform . and quicken of the noble men who likv,elcoura~g:eously niakes all men and all things akin.^ . fought the fight of Hfe, the faael^-ha^'created Homo sum-nil a me alienum piito \s one for > itself an ideal" e?:istei ce shajiiedi upon bf the .watchwords of the .philosophy of theirs. Because they have left to'^^'po'stenty, life as if has always beeii .one of the secrets as an incentive t o ' r i gh t actibh- the- membrj^ of poetical "strength. Love is the^ rule and of the hefo icdeeds which they hkv'e per- poetry of life. Qui non diJigit manet in formed and of the generous "words wMch iHorte. Npt only in the material universe do , they have spoken, our vision of their goiod- the l aws , of affinity and gravitation^ hold ness, together wi th an intelligence <>f;i>6^ter "gbodj-they are valid also in the spiritual things, and of capacities t h k t He "la Ifie world.i^-Bvery soul a t t r ac t s every ' ,oth flepths of the soul, gladdens us with, the "ibul.-Thrs a t t racubn i s . the bVnd; meant sense of infinite ppsgibilities.- •^till/ trie by; Cdflyl f "Of a truth," he says, ."men

164 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC.

are mystically united; a mystic bond of brotherhood makes all men one." To feel keenly whatever beauty or sadness there is in the plwsical or moral world, t o see " t h e glor\ ' in the grass, the sunshine in the flower," to weep wi th the unknown brother who lives and suffers in a dis tant land, t o anguish a t the thought of misery and wretchedness unvisited and unconsoled: to do all this and t o realize all the good there is on the earth, wi th the desire t o augment it, is sympathy—a S3'^mpathy which is the more perfect as i t is the more eager t o suppress or a t least t o lessen all the evil t h a t exists.

In t h a t large, sensitive and intense sympathy- does the force of the poet reside t o bring forth loffc3 ideals and beget passionate emotion. He must inhabit other regions t han the rest of mor ta l s ; not onh'^ so; he w^ould still be powerless, were not " a facultj'^ divine" t o give the vision of his soul t h a t distinctness and t h a t precision of outline w^hich impar t t o his passion a more definite and more complete form. The control of an internal power has been acknowledged by nearly all poets. Homer accepts i t in his invocation t o the Muse; Lucretius, in his praj'^er t o Venus; Milton, in this devout supplication t o the Spiri t :

And chiefly- Thou, O Spirit, t ha t dost prefer Before all temples the upright lieart and pure. Instruct me, for Thou know'st ; Thou from the first Wast present, and with might}'-, wings outspread, Dove-like, sat 'st brooding on the vast abj'ss, And mad'st it jjregnant; -what in me is dark. Illumine; wha t is low, raise and support. That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence; And justify the ways of God to-men.

Abiding in ever3' "upr igh t heart and pure," this Spirit, Author of life and of poetrj'^, breathes forth into al l thingslife and poetrj ' , put t ing "gestures, into clouds, joy into w^aves and voices into,rocks." Through him man anew creates the world. As there are no t w o iren alike in the w^orld, there are as man3'^ worlds las:there are men who feel: ever3' soul is projected into the external universe t o vivify and adorn it, or t o cover i t wi th a veil of gloom; The exuberance and w a r m t h of any profoundly human life necessarily react upon the impressions of the senses; nay, i t affects

the very apprehension of the most spiritual th ings : God is no t an abs t rac t conception of the mind, elaborated by means of meta­physical definitions; He is a living, real ent i ty; t o be known as such, He must be felt. Such a reaction of our life endows everything with our own personality. The world is a mirror t o the intelligent and sensitive soul which perceives it. The sun's warmest kiss wnll leave a sad, melancholy na ture cold and torpid; the gladsome warbling of birds will no t be heeded, and the beam of jo3' in a child's e3'e will make the sadness more intense; t o a happ3'^ temper, on the contrar3^ the darkest cloud has i ts silver lining, the most dissonant noise is an aggregate of pleasing sounds, and the silent tear of the stranger deepens i ts happiness and changes i t into love and sympathy. '

Nature, however, possesses a charm of its own ; i ts harmoiny and sublimity are a perpetual source of wonder and admiration. Truly, " t h e light is sweet, and a pleasant th ing i t is to behold the sun." Hills and valleys, trees and flo^wers, birds and beasts, the little and the great , make the world a scene of marvellous beauty. Yet, the delight procured t o any aesthetic temperament b3' the sensuous. 'enjoyment of sights and sounds, of morning landscapes or of bab­bling fountains. can no t alone satisf^^ the soul's passion for beauty; one must search deeper. If na ture is fair, the heart of man makes i t still fairer by casting upon it the spell of i ts goodness and looking a t i t as a t " a vision of the likeness of the glory of the Lord ," as a t an especial revelation of beneficent love on the pa r t of a divine per­sonality. The ancients had understood t h a t

The earth is crani'd. with heaven 'And everV' common bush afire with God,

when, t o explain na tura l phenomena, and certainly also t o feel "less forlorn," the3'^ had invented their poetical m3^ths. No;\% nature has acquired a still more profound meaning: " I f only thy heart were r ight ," a mystic poet has said, " then , every created thing would be t o thee a mirror of holy teaching. - There is no creature so- little and vile t h a t i t showeth no t forth the goodness of God." Objectis are ma.de sunny by the brightness of the eye. H o w could i t be otherwise? " U n t o the pure all things are

.\'OTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC. 165

pure," and for every living soul there runs I t is the duty of poets t o t ransmi t t o through all. things a flood of universal life posterity their heritage of courage and which enables i t t o find generosity, of disinterestedness and love.

Tongues in trees, books in-running-brooks, But i t has freqiiently happened tha t ^the Sermons in stones and good-in everything. will of one man interfered wi th the will

An3^ orje who ha» in some sort realized of another, t h a t the collective conscience the philosophy of Wordsworth's-.-" Ode on w a s a t w a r wnth the individual conscience. Int imations of Immortality,' , ' can.no longer desirous t o obey the spiritual laws of fail, t o grasp why his sympathy wi th and inner preservation and growth . From this love of nature have i. made him immortal , conflict between life and life—the life of the His secret has been tbld us, in the con- individual and the life of society—rsome' of eluding lines: . .> the best poetry has sprung. I t is from

The clouds that gfither round the setting'siin i t t h a t " Antigone "—the purest creation of Do take a sober coloring from an eye S o p h o c l e s ' t e n d e m e s s — w a s b o m tO per-That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; sonify the fearless obedience t o the eternal Another race hath been, and other palms arc won, i „ • , , „ i „ •„ . i . i _, .1 .1 „, , ., , ; '\ •, , - , . , • • laws written deep m the heart ra ther than 1 hanks to the human heart bv which we live, c ••% Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears i *» those of a merciless ty ran t . Diminution To me the meanest flower tha t blows can give o f i n d i v i d u a l rights h a s b r o u g h t a b o u t a Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. s imi lar Struggle .

But-even this poetry^. can no t be the The poignant pathos of the par t ing adequate expression of man's , mos t secret scene betw-een Hector and Andromache is longings for a more abundant life. Difierent a classical illustration of this. H o w much from Keats who pr«pents more- t o the eye suffering is implied in t h a t masterly touch than t o t h e hear t the grace and symmetry of a r t and feeling: the mother 's smile of nature, Wordsworth interprets i t and through the spouse's tears, possible only enraptures the soul into loving communion when Hector had offered up t o the gods her wi th i t ; still, he fails t o sat iate the human little Astyanax in whom all her maternal hear t : we crave for something greater t han and conjugal love, as well as her love for nature. country, were concentrated, and how much

Infinitely above it in the scale of beings is meant in her sacrifice of domestic joys is man w h o s tands .in- the midst of it , t o the demands of patr iot ism! This clash-its lord and master : • " What a piece of ing of t w o opposite forces is still more work is man ! how noble in reason; how painful when the individual manifestations infinite in faculty! In • form and moving, of life run counter t o the received customs how express and admirable;, in action of society. The character and ideas of how like an angel; in apprehension, how Alcestis in the "Misan th rope" may a t first like a. God: the beautyr of t>ie world, the sight seem ludicrous; 3'et, thej"^ are so essen-paragon of a»iimals!". -And, for a l l . t h i s , tially t rue t o life tha t , when one realizes how unfathomable the mysteriousness of them, one would be disposed to weep, his existence! I t is only when.he.knows his The great conflict, however, is t h a t which o-randeur t h a t he can enjoy his nothingness, arises from man 's nature . He is the union This king of creation, this roseau pensant, of both soul and bod\ ' ; the more complete of W^hose greatness and littleness Pascal the union is, the more complete also is his has so: beautifully writ ten, does rnot exist humanity. There is, nevertheless, between alone. Living in society wi th men whose both a native antagonism in which the law aspirations and tendencies are like t o his, of the flesh is opposed t o the law of the a member of the great human family, spirit; in which animal tendencies weaken al though an insignificant quant i ty of it, he spiritual desires. The tr iumph or the over-.must bravelj', no t by abstract ing himself . th row of one or the other side with i ts frorii his fellows, b u t : b y adjusting, himself a t tendant virtues or vices; the struggle, t o them, .p lay h i s . p a r t j j n the world and conscious or unconscious, t oward the per-make i t better and. happier for w h a t he fection of t rue manhood; the batt les, the is and for w h a t he does. They who have victories and the defeats—these are the best succeeded in this are the t rue heroes, poem- of humanit^^ We rejoii^e in the

[66^ NOTRE -DAMB SCHOLASTIC

rewarded faith and purit\ ' -of Sir Galahad. We fraternize wi th Margare t in " F a u s t , " , when, repentant for her fault, she pleads_ for merc3". Wha t touches us, w h a t moves: us t o tears in "Macbeth ," is, not that-r Duncan sleeps the cold sleep of the grave," but t h a t Macbeth shall sleep no more; t h a t in the bat t le of life a will has been desttoyed and a great character ruined. Froin his weakness grows our strength-; from his moral cowardice, we d raw spiritual energy; but, above all, we S3'-mpathize with 'him, for he is a man like ourselves.

Ill this w^ar between good and evil t he faith t h a t good must finally overcoxne evil,-t h a t t ru th m u s t tr iumph over-error , per­fects man 's JOA'S and soothes his sorrows, ' sustains and ,- encourages his good will through the present apparent disorder. The-supreme aim t o w a r d which his w:hole being is tending is happiness. But the sad tr ials of mankind have repeatedh'- proved tha t -hap­piness is not t o be found in the gratification of the lower appetites nor in the realized dreams of ambition and pride. The weary Qx\ t h a t rose long ago from the corruption of a worn-out j)agauism, ..•-.••

Medio de foiite leporum' Surgit amari aliqtiid quod in ipsis floribus angat,' '

is but a universal utterance of the hear t ' s 3'^earnings for. t rue felicit3^ A loving •S3''m-patliA'- with man and the soul of man can ' no more satisfy- i t t h a n a familiar intercourse., wi th nature. Finite, though it be, i t can be, satisfied only \ij the Infinite, \iy comrriuriidn wi th i ts Maker. Poets are grea t .in so far as, in the shadow of heathenism or in .the light of Christianit3', they have beeh able t o penetrate the secrets of God's presence in His creation and t o let their works be touched b3' the breath of the Divinity. The religious mind is naturall3'' poetic. Eveiy man who can pray and does pra3'^ is alive and is a poet. Do we riot find traces of this in the Sacred Books of the F a s t ? The L a w s of Menu, for iristarrce, have expressed in song many a doctrine rejected not even by Catholic mystic writers:. "Equalh'^ perceiving," w e read in one 'of them, " t h e supreme souF in all beings,and all beings in the supreme soul, he (ri ian) sacrifices his own spirit by fixing i t on the spirit of God, and approaches the na ture of t h a t sole DivinitA' who shines b v H i s

own effulgence." We know how in rnodeni times the Poor Man of A«sisi let forth from his soul strains of poetry unequalled even by the learned :philosopher of Weimar. I t is this hankering of the soul after the Divine t h a t has led Carhde and Emerson t o a refined pantheism. But when guided by Catholic faith, it is a supreme aid t o a t t a in "to the fulness of life in God Himself who is the meeting, point, of life and poetr3^

Before Oscar Wilde wro te : "Everj^ single human being should be the fulfilment of a

' prophecy, , for,. every single human being should be the realization of some ideal, either in the mind of God or in the mind of man ," Abbe Gratry, whom we rdight perhaps con­sider as the father of the philosoph3' of life, had^,spoken these beautiful words : "God who carries, us, who i.s in us, who is our prin­ciple and our source, prepares, begins our acts and our thoughts . He lives beforehand

- in Himself, eternally, the life He wishes us t o live in tiine. The idea which He has of us, His eternal will upon us, constitute our ideal history,,.the great possible poem of our life. . O u r loving Fa ther does no t cease t o inspire us with this beautiful poem, in the profound ; desire of our soul, in our conscience, in the light of reason which enlightens every man in this world. There i s there an unshaken, simple and infinite

•providential activity which contains and in itself operates eternally all the possible details of. b u r acts and movenients. Our life, developed in time and space, should be the image of t h a t Infinite." Stirred up b3' the

"exclusive^ contemplation of nature, life and pbet iy ' tend t o pantheism, as when stirred up by the exclusive contemplation of men, they tend t o a soulleiss positivism; the3^ are ^complete only when they enter into close contact w^ith the one living Poet ,who is their cause and their end, and embraces in His eternal poem,, nature , humanity and d iv in i ty : . na ture in creation, humanity in His Incarnate Word and Divinit3'^ in Him­self—Three .in One.

Alone in i ts majestic grandeur and above all human productions, s tands His revela­tion, of Himself t o His creatures—His Word, wri t ten in < the language of humanity. The noblest , minds have^ a t all times found in i t-nourisbment-and'strength. The truest and

••'" •' (Concluded on page 174.)

UrOTRE DAME SCHOLAStlC. 1^7

I

Varsity. Verse. , . "

IX A F T E R : YEARS. - < ' " . . . '.

IN after j^ears will j- ou • still fondly-hold The mcmor3' of the happ3' da3's - of. old ?

Will 3'ou live on, j 'our heart still cherishing The primrose time, the "time t h a t 'poets sing,

When you aiid I 3'otith's rosv- prospects told?

You say tha t now those happ\: scenes unfold, iVs down the flowered summer fields \ve strolled,

But will those raem'ries fresh" urifaded spring In after 3'ears.

Ne'er ma3' the- warmth of our old IOA'C grow cold, But rather when between us seas have rolled;"

When A-ears have flown may 3-ou still fondly cling To our old .past. Sweet nia3'- its echoes-ring ' '

Wlien silver; threads are mingled with the gold .

Better than an Airship.

In after vears. W: J. D.

AFTER HERRICK. • '

Gather 3'e large plums while A-e ma3', Time brings onl3'- sorrow •

And the' plinhs, of 3'esterda3'; . Will be prunes to-morrow.

T. E. B. T H E M.\IDEX IN GREEN. •

There was a 3'oung maiden, Irene Who had a whole outfit of green. "

She' was" six feet two tall. And the gentlemen all

Fell in love.with Irene, the "long green."

. . . . . ~ T. E. B. LIMERICKS."

A fellow named "AVilkes in "Wilkesbarre Decided tha t he would marry. - '

.\ girl named BarrA- consented " With his lot t o be contented, , ,

And the acQpunt was headed Wilkes-Barrj-.

A lad named Ray in Munro Paid court t o a girl named Flo. .-

Pier father in music was bred. To the ^Qngagenient he simpl3' said,

"Re ahva3-sjs after do(ugh)." • • J.. B. K.

. - ROLL YOUR HOOP.

When 3'ou've made a fellow sore, . •- - Roll 3'Our hoop.

- Don't w a i t for something more, Roll 3'Our hoop.

Though he Avas A-our old-time "pard," Get right out of his backA-ard; : Do not' stop to leave 3'Our card,

Roll 3'Our hoop.

Though you think A'OU know a "few," Roll 3'Our hoop.

I t 's the safest thing to do. Roll your hoop. • •

Do not loiter on or Avait, . '-• Huff it sti-aigKt out to the .gate ;--- •

I t Avill oft decide 3'our tate, " •' .,;-- , . - ^ Roll your hoop. - B. E.

RAYJIOXD RATH.

After vay friends Beacom and Bracken had left me I became, as i t were, ethereal quite suddenly. I t was perhaps a sor t of step from the ridiculous t o the sublime, a step from the hard, unpoetical gridiron-talk t o a cloud whose mere toes and extrem­ities contained more musal energy or poetry than a whole masonic temple fall of earthly dabblers were possessed of, taken as a t rus t or corporation. But be i t as you will, o r as i t may, or as i t was , I became wonderful quite suddenly. I soared into space and trampled the atmosphere a t my feet, and I despised and hu r t heavy clouds. I boilt an ethereal Queen i^nne cottage, sawing the ra inbow into rafters and the broad daylight into suitable boards . I painted the cot tage wi th Aurora and Vesper's ready-made pig­ments ; and as lace curtains for the planet glass windows, I used the various l a c ^ spun from the nebular theory. Thus I found my^self happily housed and living in the scintillating realms with unheard of rapidity of execution. F rom my porch I could look up and down the Milky Way, upon which avenue I w a s living. But how i t all hap­pened I know not . I sa t on mj veranda and watched the passing crowds. There were many faces t h a t I knew^ or had heard of. Presently I saw Wordsworth and Coleridge sauntering along, but they looked only upon the dis tant earth below them and upon the road before them, tak ing care n o t t o tread upon anj-- flower. They were in earnest conversation. I caught bu t a word ; i t w a s Wordsworth t h a t spoke, and he was in the act of stepping aside and pointing down­ward t o his feet when he said:

A A'iolet b3' a niossA' stone Half hidden from the 63-6,

Fair as a star, when onlv- one Is shining in the sk3'.

And Coleridge looked down, and replied: Flowers are loveh-.

But he immediately made the best of i t in his own wonted way, going on t o s a y :

Flowers are loA'eh-; IOA'C is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree.

Presently Ariel climbed up on the porch

i68 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASfJC

and said quite blunth'-, in his aiiy, fanciful manner :

Pardon, master, I Avill be correspondent to command And do nu' spiriting gcnth*.

-And I said t o him (delighted by. his boldness): .. :

Go, nial^e tin-self like a n3-niph o' the sea;' •• . . . . be subject

To no sight but thire and mine; inA-i ible •• To ever}' eyeball else. And bring tin- bnrd

To mine entertainment.

And as he scampered off I watched the surging crowds of ar t is ts again until I g r e w wearv and dozed into slumber, and I seemed t o see a growing light and brightness arise around me. The surroundings- bccaine as snow, and everj"^ a tom of air • dressed itself in the garment of sunshine. I myself was resting .in mid-universe upon a "cloud deprived of all weight and crudeness. Before me I beheld the immortal "Wi l l " lounging majestically and holding Ariel in. Jiis palm. Ariel was garnering the golden-threads-of s tar r j ' twinkles; for the Par t ias , he said, were going t o create a mantle for ^ their creator and his.

^ 'Good-morrow," said I. The great bard nodded a wonderful nod, so wonderful t h a t the entire solar SA'Stem stopped and looked over its shoulder in astonishment,, for i t had disturbed gravi ta t ion throughout the universe. I w a s expecting t o see some overbalancings and collisions of planets aiid tails of comets, etc., when he nodded; bu t I was, pu t a t ease \crj soon, for I saw Don Quixote galloping harum-scarum t o the rescue of Jupiter and all those; other

•corpulent -corporation planets t h a t had begun t o reel from surjjlus doses of gravita­t ion. Don sent Sanchp around- one,end of the big circle and he reconnoitred the other, and soon there was again a , molecular calm. . • . . -

I was anxious t o know something definite and definitive about poetr3% b u t the great bard would no t make a sj)eech nor w'ould he move his master fingers. But here Ariel became smart-like and officious, and _ scattered- these words : "Poem's are. the s tars and stripes s tanding for/thie Sifates, of Sympath3', and. jppets dw^eir;'in the ' upper and lower houses (or ^^;chambers) of the human hear t . " But ^ he'.-: w a s / n o t

rebuked by the. bard for speaking thus, nor do I think t h a t any American would have th rown him into the Potomac for speaking, thus about their Congress, and flag. : ' •' -. • .• . ... . ,

But-now' the great bard moved n.e over t o his side ^nd lisped t o me in soft, moon­light whi-':pers;'that the real poetrx-- was onW t o be. enjoyed when the mortal coil had beenshuflled off. -Then we would read the great epic which is but the development of fiat. And he opened 1113- ears with a

"heavenly bodkin, and I a t once heard, as i t wj ere,' some one reading the great epic. The .,nuinb.er of the canto was nineteen hundred and six, and .the stanza I heard best w£is a description of Thanksgiving Da}' , and one foot of a A-erse was Distichado (1113'-veiy iiame).' Arid then I heard grea t Varsity yells arid a ' s m a i t poeni on Cham-IDious, and then ..things turned t a i i tu rn again,, bu t my eardruni kept on in echoes of delight for some time.

I asked the bard for more poetry or more music, arid he beckoned the constellation h-re. Out of; the 13-re there stepped, t o ny amazement and. t o the delight of all mv sensoiy nerves,' Ophelia, and she sang a m3-stic melody soft and silken. Then she disappeared again wdthin the h^'e, appar­ently being absorbed by the humriiing of the strings. But j u s t as m3' e3-ebrov^ s v e r e beginning.. to. . \yorry and .the wrinkles of my forehead began t o regret t h a t Ophelia's music had ceased, I heard other strains. The3' came = fromV a bewitching trolle3'^-car which was filled with the mUsic of wonderful genii. 1 heard the car, for i t Avas no t visible. I t w a s n o crude construction of iron; no, i t w a s a sw^et and- sounding immensit3', made of the.A'^arious tones and. strains and re'rains of band music. The rails i t ran on were made' of smelted thunder and the w^heels -yeere of, various bird-song construc­tion. Tfe;;\vires. overhead were spun irom the bestfcornet cadences, and the window-panes ' were ; cut oiit -of the finest bugle blasts..;-The-.sweet-swelling . car came and sfoiDped in the inidst of an intermezzo; but there alwaA' s reiriained a gentle hum, even when i t s.tood still. Behold, I heard Wagner, -the -weird^,iarid: wonderful^ breathe himself forth ? uppxi: the rear platform (the platforin w a s of baritone construction wi th

NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC 169

artistic gates of clarinet ilourish wires painted black and fancifully striped wi th orchestra points).

Wagner spoke in sixtj-^-fourths, and he said: " A r t indeed is a scramble of the soul t o imitate the great epic's contents; or i t is consciousness walking about and leaving her footprints on pieces of-stone-or sheets of jDaper, or on canvas and many other things. And i t seems t o me poetry is con­crete sjmipathj'-; b u t ' m u s ' c is the poetry of concrete SA'mpathj^. Here Orpheus, the conductor, turned • on the current of secret melodies with a lever wdiicli was a saxa-phone solo, and the car melted into "Home, Sweet Home," and died slowly a w a y in the distance.

Gradualh'- the whitie, airy surroundings became more rigid around me, and I found myself within the white hangings around xuy bed. The band had jus t ceased prac­tising downstairs and St. Marj'-'s trolley-cars were humming afar off. "Midsummer Night's Dream" was still in my head, bu t uiy " g a m e ankle" was very "uncomfortable.

Southland.

LEO J . COOXTZ, ' 0 7 .

Shadows.

nriiEfiE'S a cradle in the treetops as thcA' reacli across the lake,

There's a shadow, of tha t cradle in the wavelets' pla\-ful break, . ' ^ .

Where the water-trees a t dawn, like an infant bud rniborn, -

Lie sleeping in the shadows of the silvery mist of mom.

Where tlie shadows of the evening creeping out the scented west

Go slipping from each wavelet to the A'ale of endless rest. , .

See the golden in the sky. how it-flakes into, a red, And a crushed heart of bleeding, o'er the water

, softly shed; , See the stain across the ti'cetops, see the'rushlight

bed a pink; ^ . See ic pale into a purple as the shades;of evening

sink. _ . _ See tiie bosom of the clouds,. make a rift of filmy

shrouds, . And a blood-ied shaft of sorrow through the border

swiftly sweep, . Leap across, the waters to the lake of sweet repose. To the lake of mingled waters, staining as i t ;goes; Leap, across .the; waters with a, grace unsahdelled, ~.'^"-{boid^ ''' ..;: .:'".-•-' ' • ' - \,y- \j / Out' across the \vateirs sinking softly to ; a close.

Unless one has been reared in the South­land he knows nothing of its gentility, nothing of i ts cordialitj^, nothing of i ts beauty. Emblazoned on the hear t^^the escutcheon of ever\^ son of Dixie l a n d ^ s chivalry, honor and pride, and from t h a t hear t through ever\' living vein runs the red blood of the South. There is bu t one call and every son is in the field, every-sword unsheathed, even though i t were only t o settle of the winning of a cock fight.

'Tis around the fireplace t h a t the strongest ties of love and friendship are corded and knotted, and ' t is there t h a t we would have you when,3'ou wish t h a t we were nearer.

'Tis when the autumnal splendor gives, the bounty of the fields; ' tis when the swamps and dark woods give their turkej'S and their possums; 'tis when the ra\ ' ishing m o o n sets her tresses streaming t o t h e ' wan ton winds in the hill; ' t is when the lighted cabin and unbounded laughter tells of . the merry minstrelsy.

'Tis when the sweet potatoes are simmer­ing o'er the succulent possum and t h e smell is. wafted w^ith the wand on the, outer a i r ; ' tis when the baying of the hounds o'er the distant hills and vales and the glimpse of fleeting figures go -passing swiftly by, and afar on the solitary-- ridge a fl^'ing bunch of far, with a reddish bush trailing after, goes glimmering through the pines,

. 'Tis when the wild turkeys, and the possums, the sweet potatoes and the manj'- pastries, are hoarded on t h e . g rea t dining-room table, wi th the great doors into the reception room thrown open, and . the roaring fire from the grea t old-fashioned mansion chimne^'-place sending i ts generous warmth ' into ever\' nook of the spacious archwaj ' , while the winds go hurtling, shrieking b^"-; 'tis when all is ready for the siege of the hoary king,—'tis then, with" open hearts we welcome A'OU most joyously t o our doors. ......

'Tis then with the w a r m t h t h a t comes from the roar ing fireplace, t h a t we clasp the hand of the beklted traveller and wel­come him t o refresh himself ere he. departs again on his journey. '-; ;,-

'Tis wi th the same warmth t h a t w^e,xlraw our friends beneath our humble roois,^,and ask them t o join in our happy routs*''liiid • merry,games till j oy fills their souls. "••'.' .

1 7 0 CVO'TRJS DAME SCHOLASTIC.

NOTRE DAME SGHOLASTJG Published every Saturday during Term Time at the

University of Notre Dame.

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

Terms: $ J . 5 0 per Annum. Postpaid.

Address: T H E EDITOR N O T R E D A M E SCHOLASTIC.

Notre Dame. Indiana.

Notre Dame, Indiana, November 24,1906.

Board of Editors.

EDWARD F . O'FLyXX, ' 0 7 .

THOMAS E . BURKE, ' 0 7

WESLEY J. DONAHUE, ' 0 7

WILLIAM A. UOLGER, ' 0 7

ROBERT L. BR.\CKEN, 'OS

P.VTRICK M. M.\LLOY, ' 0 7

L E O J. C O O X T Z , ' 0 7

. L O U I S M. KELLEY, ' 0 7

WM. E . CUXXIXGHAM, ' 0 7

FRAXCIS T. MAHER, 'OS

WILLI.VM LEX.KARTZ, 'OS

YARXU.AI A. PARRISH, ' 0 9

PAUL R. .M.VRTLV, ' 0 9 .

— The time for the annual Oratorical Contest is near. To everj'- man intending t o

enter we send out a warning t o get The rcadj-. Dec. 5 is not far awa^',

Oratorical and the preliminaries are less Contest. distant . W e d n e s d a j -

afternoon may determine 3'our place. B3'' th is time speeches should be ready and deliveiy progress well under way .

—The first lecture of John W. Burgess as "Roosevelt professor" of American histoiy and institutions a t the Universit3'^ of Berlin

was no t onh'- a.;disappointment bu t The a sinsTilarlY egregious blunder.

" l oosevelt After introducing himself to Professor." the Kaiser and students as

an unofiicial "ambassador of peace, friendship and civilization," he pro­ceeded, in tlie oracular manner of a man saj'ing the las t word on a subject, t o declare the Monroe Doctrine and .our policj' of high tariff as almost "obsolete."' Such a state­ment made before . a bbdj-, of American, students would merety call forth a, more of' less animated- , discussion, ; and, might furnish a question for collegiate debate; but' a t -Berl in i t is sure: t o dje.talienr as" an.

index t o American opinion on these ques­tions a n d ' t h u s t o cause mutual misappre--heusiou: between .German3'^ and this counfay. The obsolescence of the high tariff ano the -Monroe,-Doctrine is,; t o sa3'" the veiy least, debatable ./and warmty debated, bu t if i t were "not soothe professor's assertion would still be "srlarinoflv indiscreet" and untimelv.

..It is generally ..understood t h a t Secretaiw Root .is -planning t o secure international recognition pf the Monroe Doctrine a t the

. next 'Hague Conference. I t is also an open secret : tha t -one of the dearest ambitions of Emperor , William is the establishment of a German colony in, i-'outh America, and the Monroe Doctrine s tands in his wa3^. No

-.wonder then t h a t the Kaiser cheered the lecturer. Should. Professor Burgess prove capable;, of "Hiaking.uiany such pronoimce-ments,, the in t e rna t iona l uniYersit3'' lectures will rbe. a hindrance instea.d of a help toward -friendship, between the nat ions.

^•^

^Lecture and Concert Course.

I t is safe' to, s'ay t h a t never before was such, an elaborate and meritorious course of a t t rac t ions arranged for the special lecture iJrogram as has been procured for t h e xDresent scholastic year. We append a list of the features alread3^ promised:

Oct. IS, Thursday—Wunderle Trio (Concert) Nov. 10, Saturday'—^Ernest Gamble (Concert) Nov. 13, Tuesdaj'—^De Koven Quartette (Concert) Nov. '25',.Thursda3—Dr. W. S." Hall (Lecture) Nov. 24, Saturday—^Hon J. Adam Bede (Lecture) Dec. 4,,Tuesda3'-—Hon. Edward McDennott (Lecture) Dec. ISjThursdaj'—Opie Reed (Lecture) Jan. 12, Saturday—Hawthorne Musical Co. (Concert) Jan. "19, Saturdaj'-^Frank R. Roberson (Lecture) Jan. ,30,'AVednesday—Willis AI. Aloore (Lecture) Feb.. 14,"TliursdaA'-^R.H. Little / (Lec tu re ) March •.i,.Prida3'—Col. H. H . J . H a m (Lecturc)-March'20, Wednesday—Thomas E. Green (Lecture) April 22, Monday—Alton Packard (Cartoons) May 11, Saturda)'—-Leland T. Powers (ImjDersonation) Date - not fixed-^Drl Monaglian. . (Six Lectures)

'"- V;' "^ ^DrrSta;fiord . (Lecture) . : ". , . / " \ ,-:"- .: Dr. J . E . H a r r y . ' (Lecture)

" • " " ' iSuehias McManus (Lecture) " : " . , " . . Hon. Leslie M. Shaw (Lect-ureX

The AVunderle -Trio, Mr . Ernest Gamble, and the'.De.KOven Guarfette have a;lready appeared. •: Madame -Wunderle is America's greatest- harpist , and :she never fails t o

NOTRM DAME SCHOLASTIC. 171

arouse enthusiasm:^ Mr. Ernest Gamble is one of the most delightful figures in concert work in o u r daj-. Gifted wi th a superb voice, a fine presence, and a * charming manner, he has an instinct for selecting the r ight program for a -college audience. The De Kovens, taken all in all, were a. disap­pointment, though some numbers of the Quartet te were excellent. The lecture bv Dr. Winfield S. -Hall of Northw estern UniversitA'-, was one long t o be remembered, by the students who heard it. I t s value t o young men can hardty. be overestimated. So much for the at t ract ions, t h a t have alreadA--appeared.

As the SciTOL.A.STiG • goes t o press, the Hon. J. Adam Bede is lecturing t o the University on "Our Nat ion: ' I t s Problems' and Progress." Mr. Bede is known as " t h e Humorist of the House." Most of our readers will remember the day he at tained national fame bj"- a droll speech in the House of Representatives a t Washington. His humor is derived from imagination ra ther than-from memory.. He tells no old stories, bu t his work has all the best qualities of the .work of Mark Twain. He will be followed by the Hon. Edward J-McDcrmott. of Louisville, Kentucky. Mr. McDermott is of the well-known law firm of McDermott & :^ay, and he enjoys -.a nat ional reputation for weighty and elo­quent speech. After hjm, follows Mr. Opie Reed, au thor of " T h e Kentuck3'' Colonel," " The jucklins " and a dozen other delicious books of humorous fiction. The Hawthorne Musical . Company comes on Januaiy^ 12". *As y^et they are unknown t o us, but ihcy come so highh^ recommended t h a t no doubt is felt about their success. Mr. F rank Roberson is perhaps the most distinguished of t h a t particular group of lecturers who give their hearers the results of life-long wandering in m a n j ' countries. -Mr. Willis Moore is the Chief of the Weather Bureau, and his lecture entitled " T h e Story of the Air" is,.as instruct ive.as i t is entertaining. A pleasant feature of Mr, Moore's lecture is t h a t he invites questions from the audience a t t h e conclusion of his discourse. Mr. R. H. Little \yill lecture on ",The Making of a Great Newspaper," tak ing his hearers through all the mechanical, literary and pictorial details involved in the produc­

tion of a g rea t daily. Col. H . J . H a m is a typical Southern orator, full of fire and color. Dr. Greene has for years been a Chautauqua favorite and has won plau­dits everj'^where hy his rare eloquence. Alton Packard is a cartoonist, and a car­toonist is alwaj'S welcome among boys. Mr. Leland T. Powers is a t the head of a famous school of acting in Boston. His work las t 3'ear in presenting "DaAnd Garrick" unassisted was one of the m o s t remarkable performances ever seen a t the IJniversitv. Dr. Monaghan lectured a t Notre Dame for the first time las t vear and an-

ml

encore w^as a t once demanded. This year he has promised us six lectures. The famous pulpit orator, Dr. Stafford, comes t o us after Easter. To praise Dr. Stafford would be t o gild refined gold. Dr. Harrj-, of the Universit\'- of Cincinnati, is in great demand for his lecture on Greece. Mr. Siiemas McManus is one of the most popular authors of our day. Secretarv' Shaw enjoys the reputat ion of being the best speaker in the cabinet.

I t is no t t o be expected t h a t the Univer­sity will be every year so fortunate in securing lecturers. Let us show apprecia­t ion therefore for the good things offered this year, as these excellent discourses form an impor tan t feature of the work of the Universitv.

• - • - •

Dr. Hall's Lecture.

A very impor tan t tajk on a very impor tant subject was given by Dr. Hall of Northwestern to the student body Thursday- evening. His manner of presen­ta t ion and his thorough knowledge - of the subject made him a very- agreeable instructor. I t w a s one of the best numbers on our lecture course. ' ,

When one considers t^e great amount of work Dr. Plall does in his capacity as Dean of Northwestern Medical School, we wonder how he finds time t o travel around giving instructive lectures t o young men, and for which his only remuneration is the satisfaction of doing good. Besides teaching and lecturing, Dr. Hall writes books, and his life is a good example of the doctrines he would infuse into others.

172 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC.

Athletic Notes.

The Indianapolis News x^icked an all-Indiaiia team for 1906, giving Notre Dame bu t one man, while Coach Sheldon .of Indiana gives Notre Dame two . The iYcws' selection is :

Bloom, Ind iana Wade Hill Waugh Hecknian *' Fenrij) " H a r e

L. End Weight 1651bs. L . Tackle " 179 L . Guard " 175 Center " 202 R. Tackle " 171 R. End " 175 Ouarter-back •' 150

Sutherland, AVal^a.sh R. Guard Bracken, N. D. Left Half Steele, Ind iana Full-back Tighe •• Risrht Half

1S5 15S 170 160

The News' selection for a second t eam: MA-ers, Wabash , and Hutzell, Not re Dame, ends. Beaconi, Notre Djinie, and Ype, Wabash , tackles. ^ lunson, Notre Dame, Hies. Wabash, gua rds . WellinghofF, Purdue, center. Miller, AVabash, quarter-back. Clark, Indiana, Sopl, Wabash , half-backs. Deiner, Notre Dame, full-back.

Coach Sheldon gives Callicrate, Notre Dame's s ta r half-back, a place on his team. Bracken and Callicrate displacing t w o of his own men. All-Indiana team picked bj-Sheldon:

Bloom, Ind iana , left end. Wade, Ind iana , left tackle. Mendenhall, Indiana , left gua rd . Wangh, Indiana , center. Sutherland, Wabash , r igh t gua rd . Heckman, Indiana, r ight tackle, Fenrip, Wal)ash, r igh t end. Hare , Indiana , quarter-back.

• Bracken, Notre Dame, left half. Callicrate, Notre Dame, r ight half. Steele, Indiana, full-back.

Coach Ca3'Ou of AVabash picked an all-State team, and although agreeing with all other selections in giving Capt. Bracken a place, put t ing him a t full-back, the rest of his selection \;aries wideh^ from the others in ' the fact t h a t he has picked an all-Wabash team. Yet considering the remark­able showing of AYabash and the great advancement made by them under Coach Cayou the^^ are undoubtedh'- entitled t o be representative men.

I t is all over. Indiana is the champion. ;So here's t o Indiana!

NOTRE DAME, 29 ; BELOIT, 0.

The Yarsity .closed a successfnl season las t |Saturda3^ bj : defeating Beloit, 29 to 0. - The game v^^as, a gi'and success of the new rules from the side team's standpoint . Captain Bracken and his men went through ' a variet3^ of forward passes, quarter-back kicks, fake plaj'S, long end runs, skin-tackle pla3'S, and in. fact everything in the cal­ender. The:-outcome was never in doubt, bu t Beloit's. defense was jus t s t rong enough ,to make ,the. game an interesting one and one full of spectacular plays. As an Athletic Number of the SCHOLASTIC is t o be published next .week. but a short account of the game is here printed.

The game, though one-sided in score, w a s ' exciting throughout . The Barr3'ites received the ball on the kickoff, and bv simply running the light visitors off their feet brought the pigskin t o the Beloit one-3' ard line. Aided 133 a fifteen-3'^ard penalt3'' for holding, the visitors were able t o ward off a touchdown for nearly twent3'^ minutes. The local giants bumped the Beloit line hard land often and annexed mah3'^ 3'ards.

On the second kickoff Bracken caught the ball, and dodging through the entire Badger l ine-up ran 100 3'^ards for a touchdown. The first half ended with the score 12 to 0 in Notre Dame's favor.. Rain fell in torrents during the second half. Coach Barr3'^ sent in,-a,, score of ; substitutes, bu t notwith­standing the score ran higher than i t did in the first pa r t of the game. Beacom started by pounding the hne for a s t raight march t o a touchdown. Callicrate g o t away for a ninet3'^-3'ard run. and Beacom again went .bounding through the line.

A sensational punting duel then took place between Johnson and Bracken, and when .Be lo i t fumbled Notre Dame found itself within -five yards of a touchdown. Sheehan ; went over for the last score. Armjn twice tried a drop kick, but both a t tempts failed. Beacom and Sheehan, who ha ' e played . :for : four years on Notre , Dame's eleven, Ayound,, up their careers i on the gridiron fin a glorious manner. ; Beacom made t w o touchdowns and kicked | three goals, and Sheehan's work was ' phenomenal. ,:

After the game the t w o giants were

U\ NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC. 175:

.>s

carried on the rooters ' shoulders frqm the field. Line-up:

Notre Dame (29). Hutzcll Beaconi Eggenian Sheehan Donovan Dolan BerveA-Bracken Callicrate Waldorf Diener

Position. L. E. L. T. • L. G.

C. K. G. R T. R. E.

Q-L. PI. R. H.

F .

Beloit (0). • ' ' Mead

Horton Rowell

Loos Stransf

Gleckler Boger Annin

Johnson Kniidson Charters

Touchdowns—Dolan, Beacom, 2 ; Bracken. Sheehan. Goals from touchdowns—Beacom, 3 ; Umpire—^^O'Neal, Illinois. Referee—Studebaker, De Pauw. Tinie of halves—25 and 20 minutes.

* *

Manager Draper announces t h a t there will be an Inter-Hall t rack meet earl3'^ in December t o bring out material. Everj^one wi th ability should come out for his Hall . Get in and s t a r t now.

Personals.

—Old friends of Edwin .C. Littiz a t Notre Dame were grieved t o hear of his untimely death a t Davenport, Iowa, recentl3^- Littiz w a s a student here and played on the VarsitA'- in the years '97—'98. Notre Dame joins in sj^mpathy with the sorrow-stricken relatives.

—Hon. J o h n M. VanFleet, ex-Judge of the 34th Judicial Circuit Court of Indiana,-and au thor of VanFleet's Collateral Attack on Judicial Proceedings and VanFleet's former Adjudications, visited Notre Dame and w a s guest of the University in' the early p a r t of the week. The Judge is one of the most distinguished and learned lawyers va. the State, and his home county, E l t ha r t , mky well be proud of his eminence- a t the Bar and his high standing as citizen,-scholar and gentleman. He addressed the students of the L a w Department a t the first recita­tion hour Monday morning, a n d h i s remarks Avere exceptionally interesting, st imulating and inspiring. I t was made • quite: clear t h a t no profession is more exacting^ t han the law in demanding the constant a t tent ion and devoted services of i ts votaries.

Prizes for Economic Essays.

Our readers ma^' be interested t o know., t h a t Messrs. Ha r t , Schafiner & Marx, of Chicago, have offered through a competent Committee, some ven- large prizes for the -best essays, on economic subjects. F o r the} third time, a first prize of $1000 and a _ second prize of $500, are offered t o g radua te s tudents ; and t o imdergraduates, a first prize of $300 and a second prize of $150... These papers must be sent in bj- June 1, 1007, t o Professor J. Laurence Laughlin, UniversitA^ of Chicago. The subjects assigned -are as follows:

1. The practical Avisdom of freeing raw-materials essential t o subsequent manu­factures from customs-duties when enterinsr the United States .

2. The best methods of obtaining an elastic cnrrencA' in times of panic.

3. To w h a t extent, and in w h a t foi-m, are socialistic tenets held in the United Sta tes?

4-. In w h a t respect and t o w h a t extent have combinations among American rail­ways limited or modified the influence of competition ? .. •.

5. The best methods of avoiding resort t o force bA' labor unions in their contests with emploA'crs.

6. The effect of " t r u s t s " upon the prices of goods produced hj them.

7. H o w far does the earning power of. skill obtain under a regime of t rade unions.?

S. A critical s tudy of modern commercial methods for distributing products t o con-.-sumers.

9. The dcA^elopment of economic theory, since John S tua r t Mill.

F o r the honor of the institutioti, a s well -as for the distinction t o the winner, many . students ought t o enter into such a. con-"' test . F o r tAvo A'cars pas t the same prizes ' haA'C been assigned. The committee' m charge is composed of Professor J . Laurence-^ Laughlin, UniA'ersitA' of Chicago, Chairman-; Professor J . B. Clark, Columbia UhiA-ersity / • Professor HenrA' C. Adams, Uni\'ersity of' Michigan; Hon. Horace White, New York Citj^; Hon. Carroll D. Wright, President of Clark College. -

174 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC

{Continued from page 166.)

most living expression of the experiences and 3'-earnings of the human soul, the unveiling of the dejjths of the hear t of man, the record of i ts aspirations and unsatisfied desires, of i ts grandeur and of its weakness, it has alwaA'^s, IDV its soothing Avords and comfort­ing • t ru ths , enabled men to iDcar gladly \vith sorrow and humiliation and distress. I t possesses a never-faihng power t o heal their bruised and bleeding hearts and t o fill them with faith and hope and love. Whether i t parth'- discovers the ni\'^ster\'' of the Word, or describes with solemn sim­plicity^ the creation of the w'orld; whether in mournful verses i t unfolds the enigma of life and incites us t o admire Job 's pat ient faith and heroic endurance of suffering; whether in a more gladsome tone and in the Adgorous sincerit3'^ of his Psalms, David expresses his hopes and our hopes, or w^hether Solomon, in mystic melodies, inspires us with the love of wisdom, always emotion and thought are wrought into song and made agloAV hj the rad iant flame of t ru th . I t is the history of time beginning in eternitj'^ and ending in eternit3'-, when there will be a new heaven, a new ear th and a new Jerusalem; i t is the history of the march of humanit3^ t o God, of a humanit3' ennobled and sanctified by the Incarnation of the Alan-God.

"Intense stud3' of the Bible," Coleridge has said most justh ' , "wil l keep an3'- writer from being vulgar in point of style." This, however, would be little were i t the onh' profit t o be derived from it. Because the Bible is the supremest expression of life, i t impar ts life t o ever3^ man -who goes t o i t for strength and wisdom; taking him. from his shabb3'^ thoughts , i t t ranspor ts him into the purest and serenest regions, from w^hence lie ma3^ look down upon the realities of mor ta l existence, view them in the s t rong light t h a t comes from his own exalted inward life, and weigh them in the balance of eternit3^ AxDpealing by the rharmon^'^ and dexDth of i ts thoughts , and often by i ts musical rh3'thm, t o the'poetical fatuities of ever3^ living soul, i t empowers

tit t o understand the hear t of all the other ipoets 'who have stood foremost t o guide "therhiiman race t o i ts goa l ; and, as such, jt must be the {ound^iion qt all classical

education. The soul transcends all limita­t ions of space and t ime; i t can think the thoughts of P la to or those of Pascal, and add t o them^the magic of its xDersonalit3^ Every niati w h o is b o m in the world is as old as the world. I t is the function of culture t o impress these t ru ths upon the minds and the hearts of men, to teach t o all the language of humanit3', t o make .them, through contact with those men who lived m'ost—that is, who thought most, felt the noblest and acted the best—more generous, more S3'^mpathetic, more human-hearted, more broad-minded; in other words, t o increase' by poetry the intensitA^ of their life.

The man who will have been so educated will feel his own humanitv suifering in Job forsaken upon the dunghill and in Prometheus bound upon the rock; he will share in the heart-rending sorrow of Priam and enjo3' with Sophocles the "ca lm and a u g u s t " repose of na tu re when Antigone, gentl3'^ resting upon the bosom of her blind, exiled father, arrives a t Colomus, and will experience wi th Lear the anguish of a broken heart . No siiffering, no joy, no beauty,can be indiiferent t o him. Sensitive to. all purest impressions and holiest aspira­tions, he admires the na tura l us well as the spiritualized loveliness of na tu re ; he loves man with a genial love, weeping with them t h a t weep and rejoicing with them t h a t rejoice, and experiences an ever-increasing pleasure in contemplating the Divjnit3'^ w^ijhin his own soul. Ever3- stud3', ever3'' thought , every word, -is t o him a means of perfecting his manhood. He belonjiS to ; ' all times, but remains a man of his age, with the knowledge of its tendencies: and the consciousness of iLs 3'earnings. He follows its march onward, and adap t s himself t o its spirit in order to direct j t amj t o bring i t into a closer contact with the Godhead. He. i s able t o do all this precisely because his soul is . full of life and of poetr3', of optimism and of enthu­siasm. F o r him poetr3^ is not the dreaTm of dreamers, and life is iuhniteW worth living. I t is his faith t h a t t h e cries and tears of the new-born babe nus t " be t r a n s - . formed, through jo3's,,aiid sorrows, into the serene cheerfulness <)f the dying mjin who, a smile on his hps im&^the Nunc , Dimittis in his heart, departs on his las t journey t o his Fa the r and his. God ^ t h e realization of a l l , poetry and the perfection pf all life. : : : : , 2

• • . . . ^ • : ( T i i e Eji i i , ) ':-•.''•'.- • , . : > - - > . „:^- :

NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC. 175

L A W . ^ D E P A R T M E N T .

Following,is a s tatement of facts in the case of the People T S. VVniitc,. Avhich has been placed on the calendar i b r t r ial in the Moot-Coin-t: .;

Richard White owns a farm-of 640 .acres in Cla}' Township, St. Joseph .Gonnt\', Indiana. Three j^ears ago .he divided i t eqnalh'-, and pu t a fence on the division,line. He occupied one-half himself and offered t o rent the other. On .this lat ter , half were t w o dwelling-houses, about,. 75 . feet apar t ,

'and between 500 and 600 feet-Jrom the division line. At this point stood, . a n unusuallj ' large b a m , which .-was.^rcadilj--accessible t o persons wishing-, to- enter i t from either side or half of..the land. Near i t were several sheds and corn-cribs." About three-fifths of i t stood on the-land,reserved b}' AA^hite, as indicated by- the- division fence. He w a s accustomed t o - s t o r e : near the centre of i t his farming iniplernents, while a t either end were • bins, recep;tacles and storage rooms for wheat , oats,-barlej'-, r\'e, etc. These, did no t interfere-with a-.wide jjassage-waj^ which ran from. end-,tp .end. of the bam, where.,large. doors , admitted..of eas\^ entrance or exit. , Abptit -{the centre of the b a m were twelve -or fifteen stalls for horses, heading t o w a r d its:-sides,:w,here the mangers were. Under his proposed arrangement for renting half of the land, White intended t o reserve for his .own.use the three-fifths of the barn on hisside-of the dividing line. His dwelling-house'stood on t h a t side, about 700 feet from 'th| ' barn.

In March, 1905, a cropper, .nanied,.Eli Shefwin, accompanied by his son-in-law, a certain Charles Harris , called on White a.nd made w h a t the la t ter thoughtLa- fair offer as rental, for the land. He offeretT" w h a t \vould be t a n t a m o u n t t o $1,000 yearh^ o r . to share the crops. At any.rate^ White accepted the offer, and Shervyin, and Harris entered in to " possession! Thej;"^; iincl -yt-heir families occupied respectiyelj'^" }thfc' " t w o dwelling-houses alreadv ment ioned, -and b e g a n . a t once t o plovv the land, and ^plant the crops. - -•'.--'.• ••-•••' /:./:-i ^ c •

AH weiit well until the fall, ; wlien i t became necessary t o pay the. 'refit i;i Tjjoney or t o make ^a fair ^division of t h f

crops, in accordance with the agreement.: Sherwin elected to pay b j ' s h a r i n g | t h e crops, and delivered w h a t he claimed:to.be a fair proport 'on. But White w a s : i n o t satisfied. He claimed t h a t he received-only: abou t two-fifths of the crops, o r ^ w h a t would bring n o t over $700 in the open market . He spoke bitterly- of hiscroppefs^ : and characterized the transaction as ;disr honest. " - r .

These charges were resented by^ the . croppers, Sherwin and Harris , and a-Tefy. unfricndh^ feeling arose between them "and -White. JMevertheless, they did riot leave t h e laud. They remained there and "still'Gtii' .tivated it. L a s t October, when the crops'of. the second 3'ear had been harvested, they

-delivered t o White his proport ionate shajfe,-according t o their measurement. He refused to give a receipt, claiming t h a t they-had

.sought t o swindle him, and repeating the charge made the previous year.

White and Sherwin met in South B^nd shortly afterward, and the quarrel- w a s

• renewed with if possible increasedjacrimonyJ In the course of i t they threatened - each-other with personal violence, and caine almost t o blows. . -

On his return home White noticed t h a t some of' his farming implements had been-removed and th rown promiscuously into the passage-way leading through his p a r t of

"the barn. They were p u t back by him and his hired man. Sherwin protested- a g a i n s t this, saAnng: " M y son- in - l aw and I - a r e -entitled t o one-half of this land under our lease, and we are eq'ually entitled, t o orie-- half of the b a m . I t was built for t h e use of the land as a .whole, and when t h a t land is divided i t carriesAvith i t a proport ionate p a r t of the barn. The lease is silent on.,the subject, i t is true, bu t t ha t , is one bf-t l ie ' stronsrest reasons whv m3'- coritentionr i s ' correct. If i t had been sought to.reserX^' three-fifths of the b a m the lease woiild^haveV so stated. Being silent on t h a t lpoirit,^:the division of the land governs and ' erititjes: -US-to one-half of the b a m . " -•\^;.':s-''---'7<l-^

A day or t w o afterwards Wliite aricl ;&^ -hired man erected a board par t i t ion . acirbss the . barn, separat ing hi§, tiireerfifths l ro | j |

176 NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC.

the two-fifths allowed t o Sherwin and Harr is . Next day, October 30, 1906, he found it - demolished, it having been torn down b3^ Sherwin and Harris during the night. Calling t o his assistance the hired man he began a t once t o rebuild it. When Sherwin returned to dinner t h a t daj"- he heard the sound of hammering- in the barn, and jjutting on his shoulder an ax found a t the Avood jjile as he passed, hurriedlj'-entered the barn. Seeing White engaged in restoring the parti t ion, he pcremptorilj'^ ordered him to desist, saying: "You must not put up t h a t part i t ion again. Y'ou have encroached upon and are trj ' ing t o rob me of a tenth of m '- space. You are on m\' premises and must get back." He advanced as he spoke, the ax being still on his shoulder. When wi th in a few feet of White, the lat ter drew a revolver, and hurriedly fired. The ball struck Sherwin jus t above the heart, killing him almost instanth ' . White has been indicted for murder in the first de2:ree. Is he ofuiltv?

Local Items.

—Almost winter, and no sign of Sorin's billiard table yet.

—Quite a crowd of rooters attended the CorbAntes t o South Bend Thursday'-.

—Preliminaries for the Oratorical Con­tes t w'ill be held Wednesday'' afternoon.

—Brownson held a mass-meeting Wednes­day evening; for particulars apply t o one T. Donovan.

—Notre-Dame felt the effects of the recent wind storm. The porch on the Main Build­ing being damaged.

— And his name Avas "Sniush!" But he would have it so.

Though " C a p " \Yas just as good. For the man wlio'jl never, never, know.

—^Thursday afternoon - Corb3'- met the s t rong South Bend High School team. The game ended with the score 12 t o 12. I t w^as loosely plaj'cd, fumbles being irequent. The High-School bo^'S worked their for­ward pass well. The bright s ta r of the day was Heyl of Corbj-^, Werder's work w a s also good. Corbj^ has had a good schedule this year and has showed up verj'- successfulh'-.

—^The preliminaries for the In te r -Hal l debates are now over. Some fifty students part icipated; and while only sixteen have made places on the different teams, all

have gained some- experience, which will be helpful t o them in future contests. A few of last 3'ear's inter-hall debaters failed t o make the teams this year. This fact, how­ever, is no reason for them t o get ±he least discouraged. Sometimes a small thing— such as failure t o -memorize a speech well— will result in obtaining a low mark from the judges. But the fact t h a t a debater has proved his ability before is good reason for encouragement. Again, sometimes there is a grea t disparitj^ in the marlcings of the

.judges. A debater maA'; be marked high by t w o judges and \^vy low by one, and thus fail hj one oi:. t w o points in making a team. So when such a debater is left out, neither he nor his associates should consider him incapable. Failure is often a spur t o greater efforts in the future, and especially should i t be such t o a talented A^oung debater who has failed once.

1. And in those days there was a wiseacre among them w^hom they called "Smusheret ."

2. F o r he had come from Chicago where no one w a s a rube and men were every one ' very w^ise.

3 . And he had had a training enough for any man, from divers letters written and other jokes pla3'^ed.

4. But he never learned from all these things, '

5. Because he w a s already wise and was from Chicago. -

6. And so i t came t o pass t h a t the3'-elected him a captain t o themselves.

7. And being quite j03^Otis and scrumptious over the 'deal he s«et them uj), one and all,

8. F o r he was a . "good s p o r t " and 'the3^ made him their leader because of man3^ things. - '

9. And so the stor3'- went out amoiig all his friends who w^ere 'Brbwnsonites and Sorinites, and even t o the men of CC)rb3' -,

10. W^ho hearing laughed heartih"^, for they were glad. '

1 1 . And the rest of the acts befitting a captain all he did, man3r of which are no t recorded here.

12. So he slept t h a t night with his dreams, for he had a good conscience and w a s happy.

13 . But none of these things had those t h a t elected him.

14. F o r they were bad raeu'and justly w^ere ashamed of themselves.

15. Whereupon i t behooveth ever3' man t o live some p a r t of his life in Chicago,

16. F o r ;they know o n t y ' h o w t p "drive teams in Mishawaka and are but farmers."

17. But many f rom' the "wooly West," and the rube farms and, the tall t imber looked strangely a t him a r d went awa3^ thinking it were a strange town, Chicago, where wordlyrwise men. live: