The Story of the Mountain
Mount Saint Mary's College and Seminary

Bp. Carrell to Dr. McCaffrey:

"Covington, Ky., Feb. 24, '64.

"... The Archbp. of Cincinnati thinks that Bp. Spalding will be the Archbp. of Baltimore. A priest of Ohio informed me that Chase (Secretary of Treasury) or the Government had caused a letter to be sent to Rome protesting against the transfer of Bp. Spalding to Balt.! I expect it will soon be Church and State in fact. . . ."Indeed Church and State instinctively seek to unite for they need each other. We saw how Abp. Hughes staved off the intervention of a Catholic power during the Civil Struggle and how before that the government sought his aid in the Mexican War. He made a fight in New York, as we saw, to have Catholic Public Schools share in the common fund, something that was achieved at Poughkeepsie, N. Y., in 1873, by Rt. Rev. Patrick Francis McSweeny, S. T. D., Ph. D., elder brother of Dr. Edward McSweeny, by Cardinal Persico at Savannah and by some other priests elsewhere. But the Archbishop did not succeed. When he attempted to carry his claim into the political arena, and formed what was known as the Carroll Hall Party, composed entirely of Catholics, such leading laymen of the Church as Charles P. Daly and James T. Brady disapproved his attitude and cautioned Democratic voters against being led into sectarian politics.

On the 6th of May, 1864, Bishop (Card.) McCloskey succeeded Abp. Hughes in the see of New York. At the Commencement of this year, 1864, the lay students enrolled were one hundred and twenty-six, clerical twenty-three. There were three graduates. The honor men were James F. Kearney, William G. Scott, Joseph A. Parker, Henry L. Mudd, John F. Lee and William O'Brien. Thomas W. Kenny, '65, recited a poem, The War of the Roses.

One recently ordained who had taught with success at the College writes Sept.  11, '65 to Mr. Watterson (afterwards Bishop) his successor: "Now that I am out of college I have a very decided distaste for study. This shows the importance of using one's chance in college. The bustle and busy life of a city is ill-suited to serious study." And again, Oct. 31: "The work I have to do here in the cathedral seems like holiday exercise compared with the hard work of College life."

1864, January 18. Board and tuition were to be two hundred fifty dollars a year. Professor Hickey (Drawing and Writing) received five hundred dollars this year.

Sept. 2. M. Maurice, Professor of French, was to get one hundred dollars extra per annum, and the priests were to receive five hundred dollars salary this year.

It is interesting to note that the State Marriage License at this period and as far back as 1855 cost four dollars, besides fifty cents clerk's fee. This concerned the College clergy very nearly, for they had charge of the parish, and got proportionately less for their services as the State got more. The high rate was also the cause of many illicit unions, and for this reason was, long after, lowered to fifty cents.

Our Lady of the Terrace

There is no record of Corporation or Council meetings from Sept. 2, 1864 to July 6, 1866, when nothing worth noting was done, and from this latter date no record is had of any meeting till April 24,1868. On this date Rev. Edward Terry was requested to get ready to teach Dogma, Church History and Scripture the following year, and the Treasurer was instructed to hand in a statement of the accounts at the next regular meeting. Father Terry had been recommended for Deacon-ship, July 6, 1866. He was admitted to the Council June 29, made Librarian and Assistant to Father McMurdie in the direction of the Seminary. Father Xaupi had broken down at last and was to be sent to Mount Hope Asylum.

July 6. A general talk took place about curtailing expenses as much as possible, for the shadow of the catastrophe was advancing.

This song by one of the war students was a great favorite with the boys, especially when sung by a soft tenor such as Dr. James F. Callaghan, '83, who frequently entertained us with his vocal gift on visiting the College:

Genevieve.

The bud is in bloom, Genevieve, and the Of the nightingale springs from the spray, And the rose, and the fern, and the red But these, Genevieve, fade away: For life, Genevieve, is a dream, A blossom that blooms but to fall; Life is a dream, Genevieve, is a dream And dreams, Genevieve, are we all.

Chorus: For life, Genevieve, is a dream, Genevieve, Life is a dream, Genevieve, is a dream A blossom that blooms but to fall, And dreams, Genevieve, are we all.

That dark brilliant curl will whiten, sweet girl, Those beautiful eyes will grow dim, And all that is fair will melt into air, Like the gold on the cloud' s twinkling rim. Hope and youth ride apace full of life, foil ft grace, And the rose and the lily are gay, Life and death follow fast, they are here, they are past, And the rose and the lily are clay.

Yet for all, Genevieve, tho' this world may deceive, And our hope in its promises fail; One assurance remains, one warrant sustain, The poor heart when dangers prevail. For hath He not said, the Lord of the dead And living, "The earth shall decay, The heavens decline, and the stars cease to shine, But My word shall not pass away."

Chorus for Last Verse. Yes, Heaven alone, Genevieve, is our own, If we win it by honest endeavor; There rapturous rest awaiteth the blest, And roses that sparkle forever.

Dr. Thomas W. Kenney, '65.

The Prefects for 1864-5 were James Smith, Patrick K. Hopkins, Edward Kirwan, Thomas Mullen.

Rev. Edward Collins, '31, V. G. of Cincinnati, died in September, 1865. He was a splendid specimen of the Mountain missionary and "a model of abstinence" as Leo XIII puts it in his letter of March 27, 1887, being in fact a total abstainer. Rev. David Whelan, '35, a former professor, died this month also.

Thomas C. Jenkins

Bishop Quinlan, '50, writes September 30th that he had not received one line from his Mountain students during the war, but " now, much as I need them, I would not induce any of my seminarians to leave while the College is truly in want of their services. . . . We have heard of your kindness to young Norton, etc., etc. . . ." (Killed at battle of Gettysburg, and buried on the Hill.)

Bishop Elder, November 20, 1865, in his usual pleasant way, says to Dr. McCaffrey: "I suppose since the war is over you faithful citizens are above corresponding with defeated Secesh! But I can give you evidence of loyalty, too. I have been for two years a paying subscriber to Abp. Purcell's Telegraph. Could a poor man be asked for a severer proof? . . . What sort of an offer would tempt Leo (Miss Leo Eline) to come out here and keep house for us? . . ." [She did not go.]

The following letter from one of our Southern students will give some idea how our "main reliance" was off after the war:

Charleston, S. C., Dec. 4, 1865.

Rev. and dear Friend: After many delays I have at length reached the field of my future labors. You see, too, I have not forgotten my promise to write to you. I remained in Baltimore until 20 ult. when I set out for the South in company with Rt- Rev. Bishop Lynch and Harry [Northrop]. We took the steamer to Fort Monroe and thence up the James to Richmond. The trip up the James was exceedingly interesting. We remained in Richmond till 3 ½ p. m. of 23rd, at which time we took the cars for Petersburg, where we spent the night. At 8 o'c. next morning we were again under way, and now we began to experience the difficulties that annoy at present those traveling in the land of Dixie. And first, the cars roll along very slowly as if feeling their way over the rails. The average speed is not more than seven and a half miles per hour. Next, the bridges have been destroyed, which makes it necessary to cross the rivers in large, open boats, an exceedingly refreshing operation during a brisk shower. The baggage has to be taken into these boats piece by piece, which causes much delay. Most of the steam engines have "seen service" for the past four years and are consequently pretty weak in the lungs and in every way qualified for the retired list. In fact the engine that brought us from Weldon to Goldsboro was most eminently calculated to try one's patience, but in consideration of its great services we were silent. When five miles from Weldon we didn't "bile the buster," as Mr. Ward would say, but certainly this catastrophe would have been duly recorded among the events of the expansive age, had we not been short of the only thing that could blow us up or pull us along steam. However, by a little coaling and a generous supply of pine knots, we made steam a pound or two faster than it could escape through our broken flue, and in this way our existence was dragged about three miles through the level pine country of N. Carolina, and then another ''collapse." The same restoratives were resorted to, when reaction took place with the same results. In this way time passed and so did w«. We made Goldsboro at midnight. Here it was agreed that our engine weald not pass muster, and so we got another that broke down the day before and required a bolt before we could use it. Goldsboro is the supper house; so we took supper, or rather we paid a dollar for the right to enter the dining room. But I tell you "confidentially,'' as a certain college mate of mine once said of tm Eastern dinner, it was very much like Pat's dinner. Pat said to his friend James, what do ye have fur dinner?" "Why, Pat, I takes beef and potty." Says Pat, " I' faith and that same's my own ban-in' the beef." However, w« reached "Wilmington next day at 11 o'c., five hours too late for the connection with the train for Florence. The first eleven miles of our trip from Wilmington I enjoyed very much. Of course all bridges in the neighborhood were destroyed, and in order to reach the Brunswick ferry, which is only one and a half miles from Wilmington, we had to travel eleven miles by steamboat. We steamed oat in the Cape Fear river at 6 ½ o'c. a. m. on the morning of the 28th (we had remained two days and a half in W.), and a beautiful morning it was. Then in a few minutes we were steaming up the Thoroughfare, a branch of the Cape Fear, and after an hour and a half entered the Brunswick river. You see there is no lack of rivers in Dixie ; nor can any part of the world boast of more majestic bodies of running water. In these rivers, whose waters are dark and deep, the dark hue is owing to the pine forests. The current is not confined now to this side and now to that, but flows along in one grand sweep from bank to bank, which to my mind constitutes the grandeur of a river. These waters, too, swarm with the finest fish, and never did I feel more like fishing than on that morning. Some of the passengers amused themselves by firing pistol shots at the owls and hawks that were quietly perched in the old moss-covered trees standing on either shore. However, no blood was shed. In fact, I saw an old gentleman of the owl tribe that seemed so indignant at the idea of being thus disturbed in his early nap that he took no notice of the report or of the leaden missile intended to disfigure his venerable countenance. At last we reached the ferry, where we took the cars and proceeded at the same old rate of seven and a half miles per hour ; and after many adventures, too numerous to mention, as they say when selling household and kitchen furniture, we found ourselves once more in Charleston.

Alas'. Troy was. 'Sed nil desperandum, for with God's help Charleston will again take her place amongst the cities of the earth. The Cathedral is one of the grandest ruins I ever looked upon. I was inside its dismantled walls day before yesterday. Some cattle were grazing around, and within the walls I found a solitary sheep busily seeking a blade of grass amongst the rubbish. Certainly the scene would aid much in making a meditation on the vanity and nothingness of earthly greatness. It would serve as a good "composition of place" as St. Ignatius calls it. On Friday last I visited Fort Moultrie and the world-renowned Sumter. The first mentioned fort is in fine condition, in fact almost just as it was left by the Confederates. Many of the heaviest guns are still in position, but the island on which the fort stands does not much resemble a fashionable resort, such as it was when I saw it some years since. The little church Catholic stands almost unhurt. Sumter's battered but proud and defiant walls plainly show that against the noble work all the rage and might of the enemy were directed, but her sun-down gun was never silenced. Her garrison now consists of a single company of darkies.

And now for the ecclesiastical news: The bishop's little army of Priests has rallied around him, and will do its best to give the faithful of the diocese the benefit of the jubilee during the remainder of the present month. Humanly speaking, our prospects are not flattering but we know that God's grace can do all things. We are in debt and the people are poor. The Yankees have the advantage of us in this respect but we have God and right on our side. The Yankees have opened negro schools and are building a large church or meetinghouse for their proteges. Never, my dear friend, was there in this country such a mission before Priests and Bishops a scattered flock to seek and shelter so many sorrow-stricken hearts to comfort, to bind up, to heal; the truths of our holy Religion to make known to thousands whose highest idea of happiness is to be idle and to indulge the corrupt passions of fallen nature. This is a part of the work before us Then we have no schools but that these should be speedily organized is of vital importance. But where are our teachers ? Where the funds for this purpose? Yet, if God intends that His people shall not fall away from the Faith in this diocese, and that His Church shall prosper in our midst these things will not be wanting. I have troubled you with a long letter, but I hope you will pardon me. Remember me kindly to the President Father John Dunn-Pollard, Brown and Xorthrop. . . .

Yours ... W. A. Meriwether, Ex '60.

[Father Meriwether afterwards joined the Jesuits. In May, 1906, the Chronicler wrote him at Macon, Georgia, where he was living, and received a valuable photographic group of the first twelve students and their prefect of the American College, Rome, he himself being one of the number.]

George H. Miles returned to the College this year, 1865, and as the war was now over Dr. McCaffrey took the oath of allegiance, and invited his neighbors to follow his example.

We have also a last glimpse of our third president standing before the bar of the  State this year having been indicted by the grand jury at Cape Girardeau, Mo., for not taking the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government. "The fine old man whose ancestors fought in the Revolution was arrested with four other priests on a December Saturday night at nine o'clock." (Catholic Mirror, Jan. 13, 1866.)

At the College we find the Gregorian Society for seminarians holding its Sunday evening meetings. At the induction of a member the President read the following: "Sir, in consequence of your having been selected a member of the Gregorian Society you are entitled to all the privileges enjoyed by its members. You will now state whether you will fulfil the duties that may devolve upon you to the best of your ability; whether you will defend and promote the interests of the Society; keep secret its laws and proceedings and be guided by all other regulations contained in its Constitution. Answer, I will."The Society lasted till the collapse of 1881. An attempt was made in 1897 to revive it, but it did not succeed.

A student of the period, '58-'65, gives this account of the studies then pursued, as well as of the games:

"In my time not as much importance was attached to the study of French as I now think its usefulness called for. To know the language of the Gaul is to have an open-sesame to a splendid native literature and to every book of importance published anywhere or in any language. And, what may seem paradoxical, the French translation is sometimes better than the original, because whatever is not clear is not French. But let no one be discouraged at his failure to reproduce the nasal twang of the Parisian. This Parisian finish those only can exhibit who have flexible lips, mobile tongues and an abiding nasal catarrh.

"German was also well taught in my time; but, like French, not many, comparatively speaking, availed themselves of so excellent an opportunity. The Greek and Latin languages, with their literatures, English, moral philosophy, the natural sciences, music and the mathematics were paramount. Chess, handball, prisoner's base, football, tennis and pedestrianism were also in evidence.

"Baseball was then either unknown or had not as yet climbed to the height and dignity of a science. Football was of the honest, ancient variety, which afforded the swift of foot an opportunity to display their gifts and talents. On Barbecue day many a hero retired from the field covered with dust and glory, but with sore shins and a feeling that he had had enough to last him a full twelve months."

"The Exhibition Day was very near at hand, and E. V. Boursaud, now prominent among the Jesuits, wrote a song which Professor Dielman put to music; and it only expressed the feeling which existed in the minds of the boys. [This is the song. "Brothers Yet," by Edward Boursaud, of which we have already spoken.]

"And that feeling of brotherhood pervaded all from the North and South, not only in the beginning, but to the very end of the war. No boy ever insulted another because of his politics, no boy ever said an unkind word to another because of his political creed, or, for that matter, because of his religious creed.

"O, gentlemen, it is well for you to remember those days which have gone.

"The teaching had to be a little different then from what it is now. We were disturbed, it is true, by the clash of arms all around us, but our work was done just the same. Besides the clergy we had Professor Miles and others to keep us to our duties. Professor Miles would not spend the whole hour with his eves on the book, but would talk for a great part of the time and devote a reasonable time to the work in hand. One day we found him leaning back in his chair smiling, and he aid: 'You boys are late; but what do you think of this which I wrote while you were coming in?' He then read for us: 'I am weary of the garden, said the rose.' This looks very much like inspiration.

"The class of '65 had the hardest time of any class I ever saw. We had to go into Greek class at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and read Greek at sight. If we did not, woe betide us. The professor would tell us to open our book at page 55; then maybe he would tell us to take page 42, and say, 'go on and read at sight.' But I presume this work had its reward. We were sowing the wind. And that is why this class of '65 were hard workers. On the day of their graduation they published a play of Sophocles', Oedipus Tyrannus, which a competent judge said would do honor to the age."

August 12, '65, Father Hennessy, of Jersey City, suggests that Dr. McCaffrey translate the New Testament from the original, thus showing the most exalted idea of the Doctor's scholarship.

October 12, '65, Abp. Spalding, of Baltimore, gave his imprimatur to McCaffrey's Catechism and its Abridgment.

November 22, '65, a professor writes criticizing Dr. McCaffrey's Catechism. The latter received many letters of praise and much sound criticism, showing that the writing of such a book is amongst the most difficult things in the world. 1866, July 16th, Abp. McCloskey recommended the Catechism and its Abridgment for adoption in the schools of New York.

August 28, '66 Bp. McFarland writes that most of his clergy voted to adopt the Catechism and that he himself would vote for it at the II Plenary Council, but would prefer an inferior one that was used everywhere in the country to this one if not universally adopted.

On the 31st of August 1866 Dr. McCaffrey received a letter from a very prominent member of the hierarchy relative to ..adopting, under certain contingencies, the Mountain as his diocesan Seminary.

Bishop Young '40 writing from Erie June 20, 1866, is sorry to hear that Dr. McCaffrey's " health is failing." lie himself died within two months, but the Doctor lived fifteen years thereafter.

On Commencement Day 1866 Prof. Jourdan received the degree of M. A., as did Charles (afterwards Monsignor) McCready of New York and others. There were four graduates. The honor men were Joseph H. White of Md.; Henry D. Minor, La.; Thomas L. Coulehan, Md.; Henry D. Russel, AV. Va.; Charles O'Brien, N.Y.; Charles K. Stephens, Va.; James O'Neale, D. C. was Valedictorian. Lectures with chemical experiments were given the evening previous.

Prefects for the year elapsed: Edward Kirwan, Patrick O'Connell, Thomas Mullen, Terence McCaffrey.

William J. Calvit, an old student, writes from Louisiana July 9, '66:

I lost everything, house with picture of College burnt by Yankees. Am still proud to be called a "Rebel" . . . Please send me another picture of the place where I spent the happiest days of my life ... I hope you will continue to receive your due proportion of Southern patronage . . .

Rev. Thomas Heyden '17 writes November 30, to Dr. McCaffrey from Bedford Pa.:

I received your beautiful letter, worthy of any or of all the presidents who have gone before you. Soon after my ordination and appointment to St. Mary's Philadelphia in 1821, I visited lit. St. Mary's. I brought a cane, a sword-cane with me. presented to me by Father Holland of Lancaster, Pa., the predecessor of Father Keenan. I said Mass at the old Mountain church. After my thanksgiving Rev. Father Brute’, circling me in his arms, brought me to the graveyard back of the church, and having pointed out to me the last resting place of Delaney, Roment and Chauzel, etc., he said to me in a soft tone, "My dear friend, I have broken your cane." I under some good providence replied "All well, Father Brute'!". I hope I profited by the manner as well as by the matter of his advice.

This year died at St. Charles Church, Sydney Place, Brooklyn, N. Y., Rev. Charles Constantine Pise, D. D., "the father and founder of Am. Cath. Literature, himself a graceful poet, eloquent orator, controversialist, historian and journalist," (Finotti) born at Annapolis, November 22, 1801. When Charles Carroll died, November 1, 1832, Dr. Pise then Chaplain of the U. S. Senate delivered the oration at Trinity Church, Georgetown. He was educated at Georgetown, became a Jesuit, went to study at Rome, sailing from Alexandria, D. C., May, 1820, for Gibraltar. He studied and taught at the Mountain, having Card. McCloskey and others as pupils, and was ordained there in 1825. Having gone to Ireland for health he was for a while an assistant priest with Father Matthew in Cork. This was before the Temperance Crusade but accounts probably for his address on Temperance already mentioned.

Father John McCloskey's brother Lawrence:47 writing of business winds up his letter with some good advice, anent the rigorous and unbending discipline practiced at the College, which he claims was working against it on all sides.

New York, Feb. 1, 1867.

Dear John: . . . Now if you only had a railroad in addition to the telegraph you would be set up in good earnest. You are waking up by degrees. When you get the railroad you must next run up your tariff of prices and induce a dancing master to settle in the neighborhood. Really, John, in plain earnest I do not think there is such a dead and alive place this side of the Mountains. A good dancing master in the neighborhood would help you a heap.

P. S. 1 have made the acquaintance of Charley Lee ('36) who is in practice here. A splendid fellow I was at tea with him and his wife and Bill Seton (ex '53) the other evening and, being old Mountaineers, our talk turned on College. And it was our opinion, as it is the opinion of every sensible man I meet, that your system or regulation in the matter of discipline is all wrong. I have nothing to say of myself, except that it took me ten years to wear oat of the effects of that discipline on my highly sensitive nature ; but these fellows are as fine men as I know and they take pleasure in expressing their feelings when they can do it in the family. You will live to see that I am right. . . .

One of those admirable women who had served from her youth in this house of education, helping by example and prayer as well as by work, Mary Magdalen Handley, died on the 11^th of February, 1867, at the College, her home for nearly forty years. Her funeral was attended on the following Wednesday by all the clergy, the seminarians, the Collegiate and the Grammar School students of Mount St. Mary's besides a large concourse from the neighborhood, including Sisters of Charity from St. Joseph's. The Eequiem Mass was celebrated by Rev. John McCloskey, Vice-President, and the funeral oration pronounced by the Very Rev. John McCafFrey, D. D., President of the College. "Her life," says the notice of her death, " was preeminently humble, modest, ' hidden with Christ in God,' 'her death precious in the sight of the Lord.'"

Mar. 26, 1867, Father Dubreuil Superior of St. Mary's Seminary writes to Dr. McCaffrey proposing to memorialize the legislature in favor of an amendment to the State Constitution, exempting incorporated literary institutions from all manner of taxation, to which effect a statute had been recently passed.

Father McMurdie submitted a report without date concerning his classes of Moral Philosophy and Logic, in which he prefers for the former the present system of teaching by lecture to the use of any one textbook; and as for the latter, though he would like to change Whately, still he does not know whom to substitute. "The Latin authors as a rule are too narrow in their scope. "Balmez is too brief. Schuyler admirably arranged, but has defects essential as well as accidental, and I have rarely succeeded in making students learn anything differing from the text-book which they have in their hands. . . ."

Rev. Henry S. McMurdie

Bishop Whelan, though in the very capital of the ruined Confederacy, still clung to his College, the "Young Mountain," and writes, May 24 of this year: "I must obtain the services of a priest qualified to teach Philosophy and Theology the coming year, and find it very difficult to secure efficient aid. So for the department of Belles Lettres, Rhetoric, Penmanship, Physics, etc. Help me. ..."

At the Commencement of 1867 Geo. H. Miles' name is no longer found in the Faculty, but Fathers James Dunn and Patrick Hopkins entered it. Six were graduated, and the honors were awarded to Joseph A. White, Md.; Edward H. White, Md.; Thomas L. Coulehan, Md.; Joseph Gilmore, La.; Henry Semple, Ala.; Edwin Keevil, Mo.; James McCafferty, Ala.; all from below the "Line."

The medals in the Senior Department were gold; those in the Junior, silver. On the 14th of July, 1867, in Washington, died Florent M. Meline, pupil and teacher of Mount St. Mary's, one of the old band of the twenties, and on the 31st of October, at Clairvaux, near the College, Dr. James A. Shorb, one of the Pigeon Hill recruits of 1809.

The following exquisite poem was written by Mr. George H. Miles upon the death of Dr. Shorb who, with but few years of intermission, when he went to California, had been the physician to the College and St. Joseph's for forty years:

All Souls Day 1867.

Dying? Along the trembling mountain flies The fearful whisper fast from cot to cot; Strong fathers stand aghast and mothers' eyes Melt as their white lips stammer, "Not. Oh! act Him of all others? Nay, Not him who from our hearth so oft drove death away? ''

Well may those pale groups gather at each door, Well may those tears that dread the worst be died. The hand that healed their ills will bless no more, The life that served to lengthen theirs has fled ; And while they pray and weep, Unto his rest he passeth like a child asleep.

Ah! This is sudden! Why, this very morn He road amongst us: sick men woke to hear The step of his black pacer: the new born Smiled at him from their cradles; many a tear On faces wan and dim, He dried today: tonight those cheeks are wet for him.

For there he lies, together gentle laid The hands we were so proud of, his white hair Making the silver halo that it made In life around his brow; as if in prayer The gentle face composed, With nameless peace o'ershadowing the eyelids closed.

And as beside him through the night we hold Our solitary watch, I had not started To hear my name break from him, as of old, Or see the tranquil lips a moment parted, To speak the word unsaid, The last supreme adieu that instant death forbade.

I dread the day-dawn, for his silent rest Befits the night: I half believe him mine. While in the tapers' shadowy light, his breast Seems heaving, and, amid the pale moonshine That wanders o' er the lawn Crouch the still hounds unknowing that their master's gone.

But when the morning at his window stands In glory beckoning, and he answers not; Not for the wringing of the widowed hands, Or orphans wrestling with their bitter lot, I feel, old friend, too well, That naught can wake thee but final miracle.

Was it but yesterday, that at my gate, Beneath the overarching oaks we met; Throned in his saddle, statue-like he sate, A horseman every inch; I see him yet, His morning mission done, His deep-mouth pack behind him trailing, one by one.

Mute are the Mountains now I No more that cry Of the full chase by all the breezes borne Down the defiles, while echo's swift reply Speeds the loud chorus! Nevermore the horn Of our lost chief will shake Those empest-riven crags or pierce the startled brake!

These summits were his refuge when the touch Of gloom was on him, and the gathered care Of a long life that braved and suffered much, Drove him from beaten walks to breathe the air That haunts grey Carrick's crest, And spur from dawn to dust till effort purchased rest.

But yet, in all these thirty years, how few The days we saw not the familiar form Amid the valleys passing, till it grew Part of the landscape: through the sun or storm With equal front he rode, Punctual as planets moving in the paths of God,

I've seen him when the frozen tempest beat, Breast it as gaily as the birds that played Upon the drifts; and through the deadly heat That drove the fainting reapers to the shade, Smiling he passed along, Erect the good grey head, and on his lips a song.

I've known him, too, by anguish chained abed, Forsake his midnight pillow with a moan And meekly ride wherever it led, To heal a sorrow slighter than his own; Or rich or poor the same It matters not; let any sorrow call, he came.

Thy life was sacrifice, my own old friend, Yet sacrifice that earned a sacred joy, For in thy breast kept beating to the end. The trust and honest gladness of a boy; The seventy years that span Thy course leave thee as pure as when their date begun.

Who could have dreamed the sharp, sad overthrow Of such a life, so tender, strong and brave? My pulse seems answering thy finger now 'Twas one step from the stirrup to the grave! Oh ! lift your load with care, And gently to its rest the precious burden bear.

All Souls' Day I as they place him in the aisle, The bells his youth obeyed for Mass are ringing; And as beneath the churchyard gate we file, To latest rites his honored relics bringing, You'd think the dead had all Arranged their little homes for some high festival.

As if for him the flowering chaplets, strewn Throughout God's acre breathe a second spring; To him the ivy on the sculptured stone A welcome from the tomb seems whispering; The buried wear their best, As, in their midst, their old companion takes his rest.

Yes, he is yours, not ours; set down the bier; To you we leave him with a ready trust; Beneath this sod there's scarce a spirit here That was not once his friend; Oh! guard his dust! And if your ashes may Thrill to old love, your graves are gladder than our hearts today.

Mention of Magdalen Handley's death, a few pages back, gives an opportunity to introduce one or two others of her sex who were in the College employ. Miss Leo or Leah Eline, mentioned in Abp. Elder's letter of Nov. 20, '65, was from her childhood to her old age attached to the College. She used to occupy an underground room in the old "White House, the earliest log building of the College, the frame of which was raised October 6, 1808, and which was removed forever in Holy Week, 1901. This den was known as "The Hole," and from its little window she used once a week to dispense ginger-cakes, known as "gunjers," and barber-pole stick candy. Miss Leah gave great edification during the last twenty years after her retirement from active life, coming like the prudent virgin that she was, lighted lamp in hand, to early Mass. She was laudatrix temporis acti, and used to express her preference for the old priests who "instead of waiting till half past six would say Mass at half past four sometimes;" and she used to have Mass said for them and put flowers on their graves regularly on All Souls' Day. She died happily in 1903.

Another woman, Kate Coll, a contemporary of the preceding, spent sixty of her eighty years as a domestic at the Mountain, and was known to many a generation of students, taking a generation to be four years, for the personnel of the students is almost completely renewed in that period. She was an excellent specimen of the Irish servant, as Miss Leo was of the "Pennsylvania Dutch" stock. They tell us how on one occasion Kate was showing some visitors through the house, among them a Sister of Charity. Entering a dormitory they at once discovered that the boys' beds had ropes instead of springs. "Poor boys!" said the Sister, "they have to sleep on ropes." " 'Tis good enough for them," was Kate's retort. "Oh, it's easy to be seen you have no children," was the counter sally; to which Kate at once returned: "They're all my children. I'm here forty years, I'd have you know!"

Magdalen Handley and Betsy Peterman came down from the days of Dubois and Brute’, and bore a great part in the maintenance, well-being and reputation of the College. There were and are others of course, but we name only those whom we have known or heard of and who have gone home, leaving the future historian to tell the worth of later members of the domestic department, laymen and women as well as Sisters of Charity of Emmitsburg and of Nazareth, Sisters of St Francis from Philadelphia, etc., all of whom did valiant work and some in days when their services were sorely needed indeed. May God reward their faithful labors for the building-up of religion and education!

In '67 there was an outbreak at the College which doubtless gave occasion to Lawrence McCloskey's letter a few pages back. All the evidence goes to show the Spartan nature of discipline and Dr. McCaffrey's own words in a letter to one of the fathers of the boys confirms it:

"... We had determined from the outset (italics the chronicler's) that the leaders in the emeute had banished themselves as students from the College to return no more; that those who were led might be readmitted subject to punishment at our discretion. This being our unalterable decision, it would be waste of words to enter into any discussion about it . . ." Among the parents there were Spartans too, for we read that many of the culprits "walked home and back again."

This year saw the second number of The Myttic, a magazine in manuscript. William Miles was buried from the Church on the Hill November 1, and the flag covered his coffin because he had been in the consular service. His son, the poet, called a picturesque spot in the mountains to the southwest Achilles' Bow. This year Prof. Jourdan, who had entered the faculty in 1865, determined the height of the front terrace above sea-level, and was deputed to report on a system of heating, but it was many a long year before such a scheme was carried into effect.

April 8, 1867. A Baltimore father writes a philippic to Dr. McCaffrey accusing him of despotism because he had expelled his son for some insubordination, and had once written threatening to expel him for chewing tobacco, although he himself (McCaffrey) "choked, snuffed and chewed." It is a fine piece of rhetoric.

April 19, 1867. A Southern father, whose son had incurred the censure of the faculty, writes: "the almost annual occurrence of these disturbances at Mt. St. Mary" s College indicate some radical defect in the government of the institution, and cannot fail to interfere with its future prosperity . . . ."

August 16, 1867. Her. Join Lancaster Spalding, ex-1858, afterwards Bishop of Peoria, recommended the Mountain to John Coleman, of Louisville, for his two boys; so Mrs. Coleman writes Dr. McCaffrey.

Special thanks to John Miller for his efforts in scanning the book's contents and converting it into the web page you are now viewing.