wMmmzwmmsmi QETTY8BURQ "NEWS" PRINT. mim\ am (&M,i«r/*,/ WAiiiit 'i-.W/,l«ii» I • f *> >■ 11/ ndi' i * ,T 1:1 ■■■■■■ 4h Ii '•'II■■ I V «\\ 4 I.'i HELP THOSE WHO HELP US. The Intercollegiate Bureau or Academic Costume. Cotrell & Leonard, ALBANY, N. Y. Makers ol Caps, Gowns and Hoods to the American Colleges and Universities from the Atlan-tic to the Pacific- Class contracts a specialty IR-iciL (3-o-w-n.s for tlxe ZE'-u.lpit and. Benc5±.- WANTED. College students during their vacation can easily make $20 to $30 per week. Write for par-ticulars. THE UNIVERSAL MFG. CO , Pittsburg, Pa. i'f Come and Have a Good Shave, or HAIR-CUT at Harry B. Seta's New Tonsorial Parlors, 35 Baltimore St. BARBERS' SUPPLIES A SPECIALTY. Also, choice line of fine Cigars. Wanted. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN in this and adjoining territories to represent and advertise the Wholesale and Educa-tional department of an old established house of solid financial standing. Salary $3.so per day with expenses advanced each Monday by check direct from headquar-ters. Horse and buggy furnished when necessary. Position Permanent- Ad-dress, BLEW BROTHERS & CO., Dept. 8, Monon Bldg., Chicago. 111. IF YOU CALL ON C. A. Bloehep, JeuucleP, Centre Square, He can serve you in anything you may want in REPAIRING or JEWELRY. WE RECOMMEND THESE FIRMS. a If FOUR POINTS" Quality of material; thorough-ness of workmanship; perfection of style, and fairness of price are the four cardinal points of this tailor store. J. D. LIPPY, 29 Chambersburg Street, GETTYSBURG, PA. CITY HOTEL, Main Street, - Gettysburg, Pa. Free 'Bus to and from all trains. Thirty seconds' walk from either depot. Dinner with drive over field with four or more, $ 1.35. Rates, $1.50 to $2.00 per Day. Livery connected. Rubber-tire buggies a specialty. John E. Hughes, Prop. For Artistic Photographs Go To TIPTON, The Leader in Photo Fashions. Frames and Passapartouts Made to Order. C. E. Barbehenn THE EACLE HOTEL > ■ i :: Main and Washington Sts. ia-XoX.= -=O*.*; _XcXs : _XrX^ : _=c«i; _5c^f o =»: :**: :**: *A; :**r fc^-J U-PI-DEE. jj{? ■; A new Co-ed lias alighted in town, lT-pi-dee, U-pi-da! •'b'*' In an up-to-daicst tailor-made gowr.,(J-pi-de-i-da ! *y -* The hoys are wild, and prex is, too. You never saw such a hulla-ba-loo. CHORUS. — U-pi-uee-i-dee-i-da ! etc. Her voice is clear as a soaring lark's, And her wit is li/cc those trolley-car sparks t When 'cross a imiddy s:reet she flits, The boy.-, ad have conniption tits: The turn of her head turns all ours, too. There's always a Strife to sit in her pew; Tis enough to make a parson drunk, mm m:■-nn m 5(?n and NEW WORD; k To hear her sing old co-ca-che-lunk! rsesto ma The above, and three otherNEWverses to U-PI-DEF and NEW WORDS, catchy, uo-to-date, to many in/ others of the popular OLD FAMILIAR TUNES; be- ff *T ft? «- ■ tr" 1 m w mm sides OLD FAVORITES ; and also many NEW SONGS. IfWi SONGS OF ALL THE COLLEGES. W:i Copyright Price. $r.50, postpaid. 110,1 *W,- tf"ff WINDS k NOBLE, Publishers, New York City. XX nnr.i Schoolbooks of all p7tblishers at ove store. •m iaa» -ty- =w= *c =5*.=\*=**=xx =**= *t=**= mr.\ I In .4 PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. Of Novelties for the Fall Season, including Latest Suiting, Coating, Trousering and Vesting. Our Prices are Eight. SPECIAL CARE TAKEN TO MAKE WORK STYLISH AND EXACTLY TO YOUR ORDER. Ulill CCl. Seligman, WHO*. 7 Chambersburg St., Gettysburg, Pa. R. A. WONDERS Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, etc. Scott's Corner, opp. Eagle Hotel GETTYSBURG, PA. Pool Parlors in Connection. D. J. Swartz Country Produce in Groceries Cigars and Tooacco GETTYSBURG. Established 1867 by Allen Walton. Allen K. Walton, Pres. and Treas. Root. J. Walton, Superintendent. Dummelstown Brown Stone Company QTT_A_:e,:R,-H-:i^E!iT and Manufacturers of BUILDING STONE, SAWED FLAGGING, and TILE, WALTOPILLE, " PENNA. Contractors for all kinds of cut stone work. Telegraph and Express Address, BROWNSTONE, PA. Parties visiting quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station, on the P. & R. R. R. 'A I PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. ■mm WeaVep Pianos and Organs Essentially the instruments for critical and discriminating buyers. Superior in every detail of construction and superb' instruments for the production of a great variety of musical effects and the finest shades of expression. Close Prices. Easy Terms. Oil Instruments Exchanged. I WEAVER ORGAN AND PIANO CO., MANUFACTURERS, YORK, PA., U. S. A. \ \ Ec\ert Latest Styles in HATS, SHOES AND GENT'S FURNISHING .Our specialty. WALK-OVER SHOE M. K. ECKERT Prices always right The Lutheran puhli^ing jlonge., No. 1424 Arch Street PHILADELPHIA, PA. Acknowledged Headquarters for anything and everything in the way of Books for Churches, Col-leges, Families and Schools, and literature for Sunday Schools. PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and devel-op one of the church institutions with pecuniary advantage to yourself. Address H. S. BONER, Supt. m The diereary. The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. VOL. XIII. GETTYSBURG, PA., APRIL, 1905. No. 2 CONTENTS "THE TOILER'S SONG."—Poem, 30 F. W. M. '07. "ARE OUR ISLAND COLONIES A SOURCE OF "—Essay. . HERBERT S. DORNBERGER, '06. STRENGTH?"—' 31 POEM. 34 "THE UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE,"—Story, . 34 "SENIOR SWAN SONG,"—Poem, 39 "A HABIT OF ECONOMY,"—Essay, . 40 GEO. W. GULDEN, '06. "THOUGHTS OF THE 'PROFS,'"—Poem, . 42 "KEEPING A DIARY,"-Essay, 45 5. B. '07. "AWAY,"—Poem . 47 '06. "THE DREAM MAIDEN,"—Story, . . 48 EDITORIALS, . • 54 "Salve, Tempus Vernum." The Bulletin Board." " The Critique." ■"UNDER THE CRACKER," 57 30 THE MERCURY. THE TOILER'S SONG. F. W. M. '07 /V CROSS the corn and cotton ■* "^ Rings out the toiler's song ; And all earth's countless voices Bear its plaintive strains along. Singing in the sunshine, Bind the long sheaves fast, Song and labor blending, For rest will come at last. Its melody is lasting ; Brings the tears to many eyes ; Those sweet-voiced singers' anthem Goes like incense to the skies. Singing in the sunshine, Speed the task with might; Rest comes after labor, And labor ends with night. Across the starlight pealing Goes the echo of that song, And thousands humbly kneeling Its mellow tones prolong. Singing in the sunshine, Crown the earth with light ; Evening brings the homeland. For labor ends with night. -HL* THE MERCURY. 3 I ARE OUR ISLAND COLONIES A SOURCE OF STRENGTH? Essay, by HERBERT S. DORNBERGER, '06. b4* VER since the close of our war with Spain much dis- "* cussion has taken place concerning our new possessions. These discussions have considered the Philippine Islands and Hawaii from various standpoints. What advantages will these semi-civilized islands bring the United States? has often been asked. Are they a source of strength or are they, on the con-trary, a source of weakness? is another of the points, which has caused much debate and contention. And thus a number of similar questions, too many to enumerate here, have likewise been asked. From this great number of standpoints it is the purpose of the present discussion to consider the foreign ag-grandizement question in respect to whether or not our new island colonies are a source of strength. This, likewise, gives rise to a large number of intermediate points, which are directly concerned with the above mentioned question. Owing to lim-ited space we will only take up the more important points and confine ourselves to the effect these islands have or may have on the United States %s a nation and on the people of the United States. The first part of the discussion, the effect these colonies have on the United States as a power or nation, will be divided, for convenience, into four topics : These islands in times of peace ; in times of war with a foreign power; in times of internal re-bellion or insurrection ; and their value to the government as coaling stations. The first topic, as before stated, will be the effect upon the United States in times of peace. Now that we are in posses-sion of these islands, it, of course, becomes necessary to make them capable of protecting themselves against either foreign or domestic strife or war. This means that a force of troops, a squadron of war-vessels and modern defences and fortifications be established there. To do this properly requires the expendi-ture of large sums of money. But this fortifying and station- 32 THE MERCURY. ing of military and naval forces there is not all the expense in-curred by holding these islands. Other modern institutions must also be introduced. An educational system must be founded, roads must be built and improved, a postal system must be established and men must be employed to fill these different positions. Thus, from the aspect of the effect of these colonies on the government, nothing but expense is seen. Now that we have hurriedly scanned the situation in times of peace, it will logically follow to examine briefly the situation in times of war with a foreign power. These islands are at a great distance from the Ignited States and are accessible only from the Pacific coast, besides requiring a large force to be sta-tioned there in the event of a hostile attack. Then, how easy it would be for some strong power to lay siege to one of the numerous harbors and thus weaken the Pacific coast defense and lay it open to attack by causing reinforcements to be sent to the besieged colonies. Of course, it is not probable that anything like this will occur at the present time, but who can tell what the future is destined to bring us ? If the United States had had these islands during the Spanish war, it would not have been so easy to overcome Spain, for it would have necessitated the keeping of a large enough force stationed at these different places to insure protection for them and thereby weakened our attacking force considerably. Now take Spain. Had she had only Spain proper to protect, she would have been enabled to use the fleets, which were protecting her various island possessions, to harrass the Atlantic and Pacific coast. England will serve as another instance of this, as will also France. Considered in this light these islands are undoubtedly an element of weakness to our otherwise strong nation. Next, we will discuss the third topic, the effect these islands have on the United States as a nation, or these possessions in times of insurrection. Their inhabitants are for the most part very poorly educated and have a tendency toward rebellion. Such a rebellion means the loss of a large number of lives and the destruction of a vast amount of property, for a rebellion there would be waged in a guerrilla fashion, which is a form of THE MERCURY. 33 insurrection that is extremely difficult to suppress. Here we again have another great disadvantage to the nation holding such possessions as the Philippins Islands and Hawaii. As ex-amples of this we cite the Philippines under Spain's dominion and the long list of insurrections and rebellions Great Britain has been obliged to meet and crush. Now that we "have considered the disadvantages these col-onies afford the United States, it is only proper that we also turn our attention to the advantages they offer us as a nation. These islands are principally valuable as coaling stations. Their location for this purpose is one of their best qualities. Situated in the middle of the Pacific Ocean they are most valuable as •coaling stations. They also form an extremely fine base of supplies for operations against China and the Far East. What ■makes them all the more valuable is that they, as islands, are subject only to an attack by water. Thus one can see at a glance the vast importance they are to the United States as ■coaling stations and a base of supplies for operations in the East, which will be the field of battle in the near future. Now that we have considered the more important points both for and against our keeping possession of these island colonies of ours, from the aspect of their effect upon the United States as a nation, it naturally follows that we also devote some time to the effect they will have on the people of the United States. As before, we would divide this part of the discussion into topics which are also four in number: Their value to our commerce ; their value to our industries and manufactures; their value as sources of raw materials and the like; and their value as affording a field for the investment of American capital. 34 THE MERCURY. "'i "HE Spaniards had a fleet of ships, * The greatest to be found ; They started on a conquest trip And cruised the world around. They thought they could do wondrous things And conquer every land ; But lo, they struck a windy time And now rest in the sand. They never thought that such a thing Could ever come their way ; But said that they could make King " Hen" Do 'xactly as they say. The elements were opposed to it, And now "Hen " holds full sway They only had a few ships left, Those Uncle Sam blew 'way. THE UNCERTANTY OF LIFE. TODAY we are, to-morrow we are not. When the hand of fate falls then is our time at hand. We may wander longr brave many perils ; in an unguarded, yet appointed moment we are lost. But it is not a tale of daring and courage, nor a tale of man and the city, but a plain, unvarnished tale of the mountains and streams which we would tell. Among the mountains of Pennsylvania, in a hollow, like to a giant's cup, lies a sparkling, little pond kept full by three trout streams. All around the mountains rise a sheer half-mile, and the heads of those grim, old ranges almost converge in a point. The almost in this case allows this story to be written. Now there, in days past, had stood a mill, beneath whose whirling saw the giants of the forest were transformed into prosaic lum-ber. Early in my boyhood we went through that hollow for berries; first in season raspberries, then huckleberries, then those long, sweet, black fellows, whose delicious taste well re- THE MERCURY. 35 pays a seven-mile tramp. To this spot we always came, for here there were many diverging roads and here we rested and drank of spring water, ice-cold and crystal-clear. The mill stood silent and deserted, for the flood which had wiped out the city of Johnstown also ruined the skidways and tramroads. All over the hills the only sign of man to be found were the blacked stumps, left a grim reminder oi the destructive force of man. The tramroad on which they had hauled the logs to the mill was now rotted away and over the sides of the moun-tains was a new growth which had almost reached a commer-cial size. In the valley, which was mentioned before, lived an old couple in a log cabin. We boast of being up-to-date in Penn-sylvania, yet there are spots where civilization is not all-power-ful. This was one. On the-right hand side of the cabin (go-ing up the mountain,) was the most beautiful stream I ever ex-pect to see. Great, flat slate stones scattered all over the bed of the brook were covered with moss, which, when the leaping water threw its spray, glistened like one grand robe of emeralds. An archway of trees made it an ideal retreat, cool in the hot-test summer day. Many times while berrying did we sit there, a merry crowd of boys and girls to eat our lunch. Above the cabin, circling like a gigantic serpent, runs the railroad, the P. & N. W. Railroad. Back of the cabin it makes the grandest horseshoe of any railroad in the East. Often in the hard times of '94-'97 did I ride around Point Lookout with its magnificent view for miles down the valley, where the morn-ing fog hung low over the stream and field, where the moun-tains rose grandly with their tops bathed in sunlight, except where here and there a little cloudlet of fog rose like some specter along the mountain side. Below us would be seen probably four or five coal trains creeping one after another like a procession of snails. On the first train were probably 125 men, who, idle, picked berries in preference to doing nothing in town. Below sparkling like a diamond, set on a background of velvet, lay the mill-dam in the very centre of the valley. As the train shot grandly around Point Lookout the coal cars roll- 36 THE MERCURY. ling and rocking, it made one shiver to think of the half-mile plunge we would take if they should ever leave the track. In the valley on the mountain road the berrypickers, looked like little black and red ants, and the trout stream wound about like a band of silver. But we are forgetting our cabin in the valley. The old man > who lived there, was one-half Indian, Jimmy Sutton by name. He had no trade, no occupation but that of a hunter. A small patch of ground across the road from the cabin grew all the potatoes and other vegetables he needed, and the fish and game he caught made a welcome addition to his table. He had served in the war of '61-'65 and drew a pension, which was sufficient for their simple mode of life. All day long he would sit patiently and fish or watch for wild turkey and rabbit. His patience was untiring, his time unlimited. His wife was his opposite, a childlike, primitive sort of a woman, obeying his commands with doglike devotion, looking up to him as her lord and master. He, as a rule, exacted no demands which were unreasonable or impossible. But, well I remember one summer, when the old man re-ceived his back pension. He went to the nearest saloon and drank hard from middle summer until early fall. Then the grief of his wife was almost unbearable ; her faith was touching. It transformed her from a simple, ignorant woman into a woman of strength and character. Long would she look every day for. her man's return. Often, while at her work, she would run to the door and look up the mountain road, eagerly await-ing him. And her disappointment was bitter; it moved the women of the berry pickers to tears. She never gave up hope that he would come back ; she would always answer, when asked if she expected him to return, " He'll come back some day, my Jim will." And she was right. When after a sum-mer of wondering and debauchery, the old man came home broken and penitent, her joy was beyond the reach of pen to describe. This strange couple had a son at this time, a boy of about seven years. He had never seen a trolley or a book, yet he THE MERCURY. 37 was a keen little fellow, to whom the secrets of the woods were known by instinct. With his dog, on the long, summer days, he would play through the valley, going miles from home, undisturbed by fear of rattlers and copperheads, for he was a free child of nature, reveling in the glory of mountains streams and forest. Often have I met him, calling as he ran along, exulting in the mere fact of living. He loved the moun-tains. They were school and home for him, and, though un-spoken, his passion was none the less real. The people of the lowlands can never feel, never understand, the affection a man, raised in the highlands, has for his native hills. To him they are dear; to be near them is enough ; to walk over them by day all alone with his thoughts, to camp high on their summits and watch in the summer-dusk the stars appear one by one, is glorious, it is wonderful. Standing in a valley looking up the rockstrewn steep a man's conceit is struck from him by the con-trast with his own littleness; God made the mountains, to teach man his own unworthnessand instability and to shelter the busy cities from the unbroken sweep of snowladtn winds. The summer went by. The strange family in the giant's cup lived on. More work had made fewer berrypickefs, yet they were all welcome. A belated party caught by the rain was always gladly taken in at the cabin, and when the old wo-man would spread us bread and butter after a long day's tramp, it tasted sweeter than honey, more satisfying than any dinner we have ever eaten. Well do I remember one sultry, hot day when, as the evening approached, the sky was one somber mass of black and the wind moaned through the trees like a player sadly running over the strings of his violin. Three of us sat in the cabin door and waited for the storm to break. Across the valley loomed the slide, a great yellow splotch on the hill-side, where hundreds of tons of earth had broken loose and dashed to the foot of the mountain. Around this summit the lightning played strange freaks, cutting the trees, rending them as with a giant's axe. The old man told us stories of catamounts, bears and snakes, 38 THE MERCURY. I , until, in our boyish fear, we could almost hear the unearthly cry of the wild cat and the rattle of the snake. The years went by and a time of adversity came to the family, who lived in the shadow of the mountains. Their cabin was burned one summer night" and they were left homeless. But there was some compensation for them, too. Those, who have little and lose all, regain their former standing with greater ease than those blessed with many worldly goods. A tew days later a new cabin stood on the site of the old one and what little furniture they had lost was replaced by the exercise of a little ingenuity. The fall came on and the mountain sides were clothed in a a garment of red and gold. The dying leaves put on their gayest colors ere they fell, making one grand kaleidscope of beauty. The half-wild cow, which the family owned, did not return for clays and they spent their time in searching for her. One evening the boy now thought he heard the tinkle of a bell, and, asking his mother's permission, he ran down the road in search of the lost animal. At his heels followed his dog Jack, the best ground hog dog in all that country. We can only imagine him as he went down the road so light-hearted and free, little knowing he was going to meet death. We can imagine the dog stopping shortly with a quick, sharp bark as he scented the ground-hog sitting before his hole in the evening sunlight. With a short, shrill "yelp the dog springs from the road up the hill followed by the no-less eager boy. The dog soon holes the hog and then follows it through its crooked path under the rock. Brought to bay in his home, the game fought back so fiercely that, old and experienced as the dog was, he was com-pelled to retreat to the open air. Then the boy crawls forward on his stomach with a short club to dislodge the animal. The hog had builded wiser than he knew. Underneath a rough stone wall above which ran the deserted tramroad he had dug far into the ground. The boy in his eagerness thought not of the danger and striking the keystone of the wall the whole weight of rock fell upon him. His life was crushed out in an instant and all was still except for the echo of the falling stones. ■■■■ ■i I i I/ II I i tit i «I>M ./. THE MEKCURV. 39 Dusk came and then the night and not until the night was far advanced did his people begin to wonder or worry. At last alarmed, they hastened to find him. The dog faithful unto 'death sat on the ledge of rock howling morunfully and guided them to him. In a glance they understood. We cannot know the feelings of these two old people whin at last they uncovered their boy mutilated and cold. The old man, with the stoicism of his Indian father, said not a word, but his mother wailed and moaned, out there on the mountain side. They buried him in the valley where he had lived and died and now every one, who stops there, listens with sympathy and pity to the story of his untimely death. SENIOR SWAN SONG. E^~"AREWELL, when "exams " hold you in their power, And keep you awake in the wee stilly hour, Then think of what " profs " will sure do to you And how you will feel when they all get through. Your troubles are many, not one hope will remain Of the few that have passed through your fear-leaden brain. But you ne'er will forget the small note that you threw, To your class-mate o'er yonder, who signaled to you. And yet in the evening when songs you strike up, With joy and with pleasure you fill up each cup. Whate'er's in the future, be it gloomy or bright, You'll always remember the joys of that night. You will join in the jokes, the tricks, and the wiles, And return to your pillow to dream there with smiles ; For something it tells you that this happy day Will soon pass far from you forever and aye. Then live while you can in this gay college life, For soon will your path be a journey of strife. Your friends will be few and still less of them tried ; With courage and calmness you must stem the tide. Your troubles will come, they will fall thick and fast; Yet memory will hold these glad days till the last. For no matter how low you may sink in the strife, You will look back with pleasure to gay college life. 40 THE MERCURY. ' A HABIT OF ECONOMY. GULDEN, '06. kHE meaning of the words " habit" and " economy," as used in this subject, needs but little exposition. Every-one of average intelligence understands them in a general sense ; but their application in the details of affairs demands our atten-tion. A habit is an involuntary tendency to perform a certain act,, which tendency is acquired by a frequent repetition of that act. A habit determines how we walk ; another, how we sit; an-other, how we eat, and so on indefinitely, until we can truly say-that habits determine our actions. • Economy, as defined by one writer, is : " The management,, regulation or supervision of means or resources, especially the management of pecuniary or other concerns of a household;. hence, a frugal use of money, material and time ; the avoidance of, or freedom from, waste or extravagance in the management or use of anything; frugality in the expenditure of money and material." This definition, though clear, yet, it seems to me, can be crystallized into this one idea of the proper manage-ment of one's concerns. In short, then, a habit of economy is an involuntary tendency to'manage one's concerns properly. Illustrative examples we have in plenty of men, who have sadly failed on account of the lack of a habit of economy ; and of others, who have been eminently successful because they possessed it. In the care of important matters, both public and private, the largest safety is to be assured by placing con-fidence in those who have formed this habit. Observe the ex-amples of some of our great men, with what scrupulous care they managed their affairs. Washington, even in camp, with the cares of the campaign devolved upon him, looked after the details of his mess and his personal expenditures. This habit also manifested itselt in his careful account of household expen-ditures while he was President. Jefferson, too, planned the af-fairs of his house, his garden, his farm, everything to the last detail. He was reared to avoid waste. The habit of enforcing; 1 J kt ■ *l THE MERCURY. . 4I reasonable frugality was formed in his youth, and was exercised throughout his entire life. These were the highest types of the class of men in whom others put confidence, but they were not the only men who possessed this habit. We know that the majority of our an-cestors, the sturdy men and women of earlier days, possessed,- in a much larger measure, this habit than we, their descertdents^ do today. They were workers, honest, frugal and saving.- They acquired for themselves comfortable homes and taught their children to work, to save, to insure increase from a habit of wholesome economy. Often do we hear those, still living, tell how they were brought up under the discipline of economy. Work was ap-pointed for them, and they had to do it. Idleness was not tol-erated. And now it actually pains them to witness the waste and idleness practiced by the growing generation. The main question with which they were concerned, in regard to personal affairs, was, "How much can be saved?" They were satisfied to work for small wages, if out of thesf wages they could save a portion during the year. The great question today seems to be, "How much can be made?" With this deceptive guide as their leader, our young men from the country are flocking into the cities, searching for situations, which will afford them an easier living, with the hope of rapid accumulation of wealth. Many of them do not believe that labor is the producing power, but think that by some easy road they can obtain success and fortune. They have never realized that "You can't get something for nothing ;" and to them "misfortune," as they call it, speedily comes. Others have never formed the habit of economy, and, although they are successful in securing positions which pay large salaries, yet they save no money. They spend each month's wages as they earn it, and often before it is earned. They are the men who later demand higher wages, not that they may save money and make their homes more comfortable, but that they may spend more on the luxuries of life, luxuries that the wealthy enjoy. Too many of our people today are not satisfied to live com- f'fB^—l'.'»«««flHBTaMTmlfiffiff KMitmm 42 THE MEKCORV. fortably and add a little to their material possessions by prac-ticing frugality. Feeling confident that the future will bring large returns, they branch out into large expenditures, and run into debt for purchases altogether unnecessary. They try to match or surpass, in house-hold equipment or other showy material, those of larger and more abundant means. Their false pride impels them to follow the leadership of fashion which ruins them with debt, changes wholesome taste to pernicious •excesses, and invites demoralizing perils. All this from a lack of the habit of economy, which comes from saving here and there, and holding on to the small things, which go to make up the larger; a habit which should be enforced by every pa-rent, and formed by every child, because the practice of econo-my is among the most useful and valued of life's duties. THOUGHTS OF THE PROFS. ^| VHE " Prof " lies down to rest, ^ His working day is o'er ;. His dreams are filled with zest, He plots and schemes yet more. Now there's the Senior grave— Yes, I'll go after him ; He looked so bold and brave But, oh, his bluff is thin ! I call him up the very first, I torture him with fire ; And in my rage I'll almost burst The bonds of god-like ire. I'll hurl the question in his face, I'll make him quake and moan ; He surely will another place Wish he had for his happy home. But let him writhe in grief and pain, Until I find another, Who can his place as well supply, Oh, yes, his Junior brother. THE MERCURY'. 43 A Junior is a mighty man, A man of power aiid skill ; Indeed, if it were not for him The schools would go downhill. That's what he thinks about himself, But oh what a foolish notion ; Could"he see himself as others see, He might change in his devotion. To '• Profs " arrayed in learning deep He looks quite small indeed ; Pop says he sees them come and go, And when Pop speaks we heed. To them the brain of man is clear As crystal-sparkling water; In logic they are gifted one's In Greek they wisely mutter. But the ■' Prof " dreams on ; His ghoulish glee is not one whit abated, For tomorrow come exams, you know, And his wrath can not be sated. Philosophy, History, Poetry, Art, Psychology and Mathematics— A very demon seems to start As he gazes on Poppy Statics. But we leave the Junior now anon, For the Sophomore, wisest of wise, Who, haughtily smiling, gazes on With his wide-open owl-like eyes. To him the heavens are an open book ; For botany specimens he roams the plain, On athletic teams for him you look ; At midnight knowledge he strives to gain. He hustles and bustles around, Like a hen on a griddle hot; Undying fame he would win at a bound, He would even question the wife of Lot. . . I ■ >tl.'J ! 44 THE MERCURY. But the professor has a job for him, That will turn his joy to woe ; Ich bin, du bist, like a funeral hymn The Dutchman mutters sweet and slow. An essay I make him hand to me, The Essay Doctor says in his sleep ; Four-hundred-thousand words at least And busy at his work he'll keep. Goodbye, Sophomore, here's my meat, The Proffy grins in fiendish glee, For the verdant grass beneath the feet Is pale indeed near a Freshman wee. This world struggled on for ages Ere the Freshman here arrived, And now he scribbles countless pages, To solve the riddle he often tries. He's in for reform the day he starts— Politic's, Fraternities, curriculum, too ; He'll assign to the " profs " their speaking parts ', And tell the Seniors what to do. There's not a thing on this old sphere, Of which he cannot all things tell; He's always in place to see and hear ; He has guided all he attempted well. But o'er him does the Proffy gloat, And rolls in his bed with joy ; For he's going to set this young mind afloat; He'll surely teach this Freshman boy ! He'll make him dig the whole day long, Till his tired hands can scarcely move ; No more will he burst into song ; Sad, sick he misses mamma's love ; " For I'll be his mother dear," The kindly Proffy said ; " I put his bottle of milk quite near I dress him for his little bed. • 1/ IJ * / f THE MERCURY. 45 ^^»M*.IM,IH,t. aiH.^nY.fal.fc., 1,1 l.t/-.Jl L.IM11M 48 1 THE MERCURY. The rose looked up at the maiden And opened its petals white ; The twilight of life is passing, How swiftly falls the night, But into the city of sorrow The maiden sent the rose, That bloomed on a brighter morrow For only a few of those, Who, burdened with strife of living, Yet yearned for one happy day, And 'twas thus, through the maiden,s giving, That the rose found out " A Way." THE DREAM MAIDEN. WHEN Bill Heller came to college as an unsophisticated rustic, he little dreamed of the adventures which des-tiny had mapped out for him. Up to this time Bill had been accustomed only to follow his father's great horses as they toiled in the heat of the mid-day sun, to listen to the liquid warbling of the nightingale as she sang in the silvery moonlight, to rise in the early dawn as the sun came majestically sweep-ing above the horizon, kissing the tender buttercups as they gladly turned their golden cheek toward him. Bill had read the lives of men who had left their foot-prints on the sands of time and often in the solitude of his daily toil he had longed for the time when he should lift his deep sounding voice against the evils which threatened the destruction of his native land. Bill's first month's experience as a verdant Freshman was not exactly (a direct) parallel to his expectations. Beaten and bruised in the class rushes, the laughing stock of the upper classmen, his hopes and ambitions suffered a severe shock. To be or not to be. Should he stay and endure it all or go back to the huckleberry bushes ? was the question, which constantly puzzled Bill's mind as the days went by and trouble threw her black cloak around him like the pall of darkest night. The last spark of hope had almost died away and homesickness, that most unrelenting of all afflictions, held Bill in its iron grip. ) I I * I a < 11 THE MERCURY. 49 'One night, overwhelmed with the deepest dispair, he angrily 'dashed his books to the floor and rushed forth into the night, -some unconscious attraction, the will of some higher power, •drew him on. Over field and meadow he plodded, weary of the world, of sorrow and care. Unmindful of the flight of time and whither-soever, he walked, he finally came to a stream glittering in the moonlight. Sitting on a fallen giant of the forest and hurrying his face in his hands, he burst into tears, ibitter and unconsoling. The tears dropping like rain on the placid bosm of the stream rippled as though it, too, sympathized •with him in his hour of trouble. Gently as the professor steals upon the unsuspecting cribber, lie heard a faint melody steal upon him. Was it his fervid imagination or was it the murmur of the rippling brook ? Like the balm of Gilead, the sound came to his troubled soul and, forgetting all woes, he sat, enraptured by the wild beauty of the music; nearer and nearer it came, louder and louder it grew and Bill felt himself wafted into the seventh heaven of delight. Like a meteor bursting from its home in the heavens, a vision came from the depths of the forest and then Bill knew from whence those angelic notes had come. He sat spellbound and speech-less as the fair creature swept by him. His ayes had never before beheld such beauty, so intoxicating, so wonderful that Bill's excited brain could scarce believe her human. Some where in this rushing old world of ours there is a man for every woman, a woman for every man. Sometimes they never meet and two lives are blasted. When they do meet some law, un-known in its principles, draws them together, until two hearts beat as one. She was gone, but a new hope beat in Bill's breast. Who the fair maiden was Bill pondered in vain. Was she human or divine? If he could only see her once again, what would he not do or give to hold the fair (creature) in his arms and whisper, soft words of love in those (dainty) ears ! Bill's ambition came back like the tide and he held his head proudly up to the starry heavens. The clock just struck three, when Bill reached the college gate, and soon he was in Ded. Sleep came to him, a dream in which a lovely maiden gently MM.LV.W tLMMUJ'M.Ul.lr, jl.L.At.l.l.t.MHHiamHimmaUilMMI 50 THE MERCURY. brushed his tawny locks from off his fevered brow. The Chapel Bell was ringing when Bill awoke, and, hastily dressing, he was just 5 1-2 minutes late in getting to Latin class. Three times the Latin professor called upon him to recite, and three times Bill heard him not. The fourth summons broke the spell of his reverie and the gigling of his classmates caused Bill to blush to the roots of his hair. Bill's head swam. The room seemed to* be going round and he toppled over in a faint. For two months he lay in bed with brain fever. His life was despaired of and only his magnificent constitution and will sustained life. One night, while the tired nurse slept, Bill silently stole from his bed and instinctively sought again the spot where the vision of love-liness had first appeared to him. She was an over-grown country girl, a brunette, with wide-open, brown eyes. She came to college to realize her highest ideals, wilful, pretulent, brilliant, in her classes, always singled out in a crowd, a veritible queen, envied by women, loved by the men. Born in an atmosphere of literary culture and re-finement, she was at the time we write as yet undeveloped by the moulding flame of love. Nature was to her an open book. She loved to roam the fields and forests drinking with delight from the sparkling springs which sprang up in the forests. She came to college to live, to enjoy, to do, to be. Never failing in her set purpose, she went overcoming all obstacles. Her voice, bell-like and clear, sounded through the forest like the chime of a silver bell. She never knew the joy of love, the wild abandon, the joy that was almost pain. Bill had escaped his nurse and sat again at the tree in the forest beside the brook. He listened, longing with all the unreasonableness of a sick man for the voice of his charmer. Hark, listen, through the stillness of the night, it came and Bill's heart threatened to leap from his mouth. The voice came no nearer and Bill arose walking silently on the fallen leaves. He had walked only a few hundred feet when coming out into an open glade he saw the object of his search. Parting the bushes, Bill stood there open-eyed, drinking in the music as the hot sand of the desert drinks up the falling dew. There was the disturber of his -
MARCH, J900 Qettysbur Mercury CONTENTS. The Power of Ignorance, 1 Remembrance, 8 The Death of King Solomon 8 The Uses of Dreams,. 13 Editor's Desk, 17 A Word Deserved, 18 Meeting of The Pennsylvania College Alumni Association of Harrisburg, 19 The Veil of Separation 20 The Dead on Expansion, 21 The Old Chief and The Black-smith, 22 Why We Broke Camp, 27 At The Breakfast Table 30 GETTYSBURG COLLEGE LIBRARY .GETTYSBU^!§bRG C DUPLiCfA'. i FAVOR THOSE WHO FAVOR US. For Fine. Printing go to CARLISLE ST. GETTYSBURG, PA. C. B. Kitzmiller Dealer in Hats, Caps, Boots and . Douglas Shoes GETTYSBURG, PA. Have you an assured -&&& R. I. ELLIOTT Dealer in Hats, Caps, Shoes and. Gents' Furnishing Goods Corner Center Square and Carlisle Street GETTYSBURG, PA. EDGAR S. MARTIN, F^CIGARS AND SMOKERS' ARTICLES. %/& tgr? Mr* Chambersburg St., Gettysburg. 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The title of this book is "How to Prepare i'or a Civil Service Examination ; U Hh Recent Questions and An- , swers." It contains all Information which any candidate would require to firepare for any competitive office under he Government, and includes a "Ten weeks1 Course of Study,"ln the form of questions actually asked at recent ex-aminations, with the correct answers to , them. Besides the technical require- ' menta. It also covers all the elementary branches, like arithmetic, spelling, pen- | manship, geography, letter writing, civil government, etc., etc., so that one who masters this course of study would not only pass well an examination for o, yov- , ernment position, but would be cure of I preferment over other applicants for a clerkship in a business house. CLOTH—$2.00 Postpaid—560 PAGES Another booJciree(Quick atFigures)if you mention this paper when ordering. mros & NOBLE, Publishers ' 4-6-13-14 Cooper Institute, N. Y. City SchoolbooTcs ofall publishersat one store .THE. GETTYSBURG MERCURY. VOL. IX. GETTYSBURG, PA., MARCH, 1900. No. 1 THE POWER OP IGINORAINCE. [ABSTRACT OF A LECTURE BEFORE THE TEACHERS' INSTITUTE, JANUARY 27TH, BY PROF. O. G. KLINGER.] I AM here to engage your attention for a little while in a sub-ject which is too seldom considered, but rich in educational value. It is the " Power of Ignorance." We often hear of the power of knowledge—it has been the pet theme of platform speakers for many generations ; but who has stopped to consider the power of the unformed intellect, or of the intellect developed but dominated by some blinding prejudice, or pride of opinion ? And yet Ignorance has played as mighty a part in the world's drama as Knowledge. All the domain which Knowledge calls her own has been wrested from Ignorance. Ignorance, dark, gloomy, superstitious, destructive, first; knowledge second—at the beginning a glimmer, a mere insight, a guess, and then a growing light—at the present a great luminary, an hour above the horizon. All that makes our nineteenth century habitable for men and women, such as you, is the product of advancing science. No other age has been so great as our age, because Knowledge has stricken off the shackles of superstition, shaken the obstinacy of bigotry, deepened the sympathies, augmented the value of human life, converted the forces of nature into servants, established the dignity of self-hood, brought freedom to light, conquered the ocean and annihilated space. Her advance has been in the face of Ignorance, which at each moment has con-tested with pen and fire and sword her progress. My object this evening will be to set forth as clearly as I may be able the power of this antagonist of knowledge, that in the light of it you may see more clearly the sanctity of freedom of research, freedom of thought, and freedom of speech. QETTYSBU*G COLLEGE LIBRARY GETTYSBURG, PA^ THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Remember, that knowledge is power only when it informs some human will, and directs some human choice. Knowledge concealed within the lids of books is not power—it is so much waste paper so far as the world's progress is concerned. It must possess the mind, illumine the intellect, impel the will in its choices, and become a human force. And by ignorance I mean the mind that is not informed, a will that makes its choices in the dark ; a htiman force without direction. But this is not the only kind of ignorance. It has happened in the world's history that men and nations of large culture have been so dominated by pre-judice, by pride of opinion, by love of party, by bigotry, as to avert from themselves the best blessings which the merciful Father had designed for them. There are wise fools in the world as well as dullones, and bigotry, which is but a form of ignorance, has been a great obstacle in the path of progress. Our thought must search for its illustrations in the cabinet of History, and they will not be difficult to find. Every page is re-plete with them. We take those that strike the eye first, because of their magnitude—conspicuous examples of the blighting effects of gross ignorance, and the more refined but less hopeful bigotry. I refer to the Barbarian invasion of Rome, the fall of Alexandria, the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and England's loss of her American Colonies. The tidal wave of ancient civilization, which took its rise in Egypt and the Mesopotamia, never flowed farther north than the Black Sea, the Carpathian mountains, and the Rhine river. Be-yond these boundaries lay in dark obscurity the terra incognita. Of this whole, vast, indefinite stretch the ancients had only the most meagre information, and they peopled it with the most hor-rible, most fantastic creatures of the imagination, as children fill the dark with hobgoblins and spooks. And as though their fears had been prophetic, out of this very region were to come the forces which would overturn their government, raze their cities, crush their pride, and extinguish their culture. The old civilization reached its maximum development in Greece and Rome—the former leading and the latter following in the sequence of history. In Greece it was expressed in a litera-ture and art the most perfect the world has ever enjoyed ; in Rome it took the form of an architecture, " full of expression of gigantic power and strength of will." The former gave to the THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. world the Parthenon ; the latter the Coliseum. The former fur-nished ideals of the beautiful; the latter ideals of social order. Greece has since been the teacher of all that pertains to the aesthetic nature ; Rome of all that pertains to government and jurisprudence. ?j£ ?|s *f% yf* 5|* 'J^ *f* *"p While Greece was achieving her greatest triumph—while adorning her cities with the most exquisite art, perfecting her language, and evolving her beautiful philosophy ; while Rome was rearing triumphal arches, sending nation after nation under the yoke, and welding together the whole civilized world into one massive empire—up in this region of the north there was a strange restlessness, of which the southern nations never dreamed, but which forbode for them the most direful consequences. A dreary stretch of forest, reaching from the Rhine to the North Sea, unbroken save here and there by patches of cultivated land—a wilderness of mighty trees, which bowed their heads be-fore the Blusterer of the north, or sank beneath the weight of years, but at whose root the woodman's axe was seldom laid— whose deep recesses furnished safe retreats for bear and the wild-boar— such was Europe in the third century Anno Domini when the Goths first emerged from its retreats and stood upon the banks of the Danube. Great people they were, tall and massive of shoulder, with great swelling muscles—a giant each one, whose tawny hair, reaching to the shoulder, was his especial pride. From under shaggy eye-brows gleamed eyes which seemed cut out of blue Arctic ice, reflecting every flash of passion, and terrible when lit up with the rage of battle. Great animals, with the germ in them of great souls, true to their word, loathing nothing so much as shame and cowardice, with heart attuned to carnage, afraid to die elsewhere than on the battlefield—whose Heaven even was a Val-halla of eternal conflict—such were the Goths. Beyond them towards the east dwelt the Huns, a Tartar tribe. Let Gibbon describe them : '' These savages of Scythia were com-pared to the animals which walk very awkwardly on two legs. They were distinguished from the rest of the human species by their broad shoulders, flat noses, and small black eyes, deeply buried in the head ; and as they were almost destitute of beards, THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. they never enjoyed either the manly grace of youth or the vener-able aspect of age." To render them more hideous still, while they were yet of tender age their parents gashed their cheeks with knives that their faces might look more ferocious with the ugly scars. They were so constantly on horseback that their legs received the curve of the horse's body. Their hideous appear-ance was a true index of their character—ruthless, lustful; they struck terror into the hearts of their enemies on the field of battle. Beyond them dwelt another tribe of people, of whose origin we know nothing, and of whose character we know little. The Sienpi were the natural enemies of the Huns, into whose terri-tory they made frequent incursions. Brave and savage, skilled in the use of such weapons as they had, they were able to chill with terror even the hearts of such creatures as the Huns. It is probable that under the pressure of these implacable foes the Huns migrated from their ancient seats, near the Chinese Empire, towards the west. Their coming in countless hordes was an astonishment to the valiant Goths, who trembled before their uncouth enemies and retreated before their onslaught. Thus it happened that in the fourth century of our era, the Goths suddenly appeared upon the banks of the Danube and besought a refuge within the bounds of the Roman Empire. Their petition was at length granted, and the fate of the South was sealed. At once, on the death of the great Theodosius, occurred the revolt of the Gothic tribes. Under the leadership of Alaric, after various vicissitudes, they traversed the country from the Danube southward and sought a rich harvest of fame and treasure in the fair land of Greece. Passing, without opposition, through the pass of Thermopylae, they ravaged the whole country to the plains of Sparta. *A* *A* *1* *±* *1^ *Jf* ^^ *^ *f* ^ *j* *r» *T* *T* *r* 'T* You have read of, even if you have never seen, the devas-tating power of the cyclone. The sun rises upon a stretch of prairie, beautiful with swaying grain, and dotted with towns and villages. The sky overhead is flecked with shredded clouds, which reflect and refract the sun's rays—distant prisms of hazy texture. Suddenly from out the sky, with scarcely a moment's warning, comes a mighty shadow. Your ear is startled by the deep bellowing of winds as they struggle in the upper air. Dower THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. and lower they force each other in their whirling conflict. The one from the west hurls back the one from the east, and, with in-conceivable rapidity, the storm-cloud, lightning-riven, skims the earth. You know the rest. The sun sets at evening upon a blighted land, filled with ruin and death. \1A *JJ «X* *.IA »L* *±? ^f *!_.* if* if* *f* ^f* *J* ^T* *J* 'I* The passing of Alaric and his Goths left Greece stripped of her beauty ; her temples lying in ruins; her sculpture broken and stripped of its golden plates ; her towns and villages a mass of burning embers. '' The whole territory of Attica, from the prom-ontory of Sunium to the town of Megara was blasted by his baleful presence ; and, if we may use the comparison of a contem-porary philosopher, Athens itself resembled the bleeding and empty skin of a slaughtered victim." The cyclone of ignorance has passed, and what the centuries had achieved of all that ap-peals to the aesthetic nature was in a day destroyed by the barba-rians, whose natures were insensible to the allurements of beauty, except as it was expressed in the grace and symmetry of the female form. Alexandria, founded at the mouth of the Nile by Alexander the Great, and coming under the sovereignty of Ptolemy Soter, and afterwards of his son, Philadelphus, became under their fostering care, and by reason of its location, the foremost city of its day, and the real center of the Hellenistic world. It was from her that the Romans received the Greek civilization, which wrought such a miracle among them ; from her that the literary and artistic in-fluences went forth to mold the taste of Europe ; it was in her that poets and critics wrote and labored in the Hellenistic period. For the Ptolemies were patrons of art and literature, and invited to their court the learned from all parts of the world. To facili-tate research, a great museum, similar in character to our modern university, and a great library were established. Here were gath-ered the manuscripts of all the Hellenic writers, great and small. These the scholars of Alexandria, from the third century B.C. downward, sifted, preserving what was of value and destroying what was worthless. The works of the great thinkers, from Homer to Demosthenes, were edited, and their scholia form the foundations of all modern critical study. This happy state of things continued until the time of Bishop THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Theophilus, " the perpetual enemy of peace and virtue ; a bold, bad man, whose hands were alternately polluted with gold and blood." This narrow-minded bigot, caring only for power, knowing little of the glory of Greek literature, and caring less, pillaged the library, destroyed the compositions of ancient genius, and forever impoverished the world of scholarship. " Nearly twenty years afterwards, the appearance of the empty shelves ex-cited the regret and indignation of every spectator whose mind was not totally darkened by religious prejudice." Nor did the exquisite art which adorned the streets, as well as temples and private homes, suffer a less bitter fate. Images of gold and silver were melted, and those of inferior material were broken to bits and cast into the streets. Thus could religious fanaticism, inflaming the heart of an unscrupulous, ecclesiastical politician, and blinding his eyes to the enormity of his crime, subvert and destroy in a few hours what scholarship had accumu-lated during six centuries of labor. *J* 5JC ftfi *jC *fs 3j£ ?JC 5JC The darkest page in the history of France is that which re-cords the power and influence of the Guises. Hand in hand with the Queen-mother, Catherine de Medici, they labored for the ex-termination of the Huguenots. To trace here the intricate schemes, the diabolical plottings, the attempts at assassination, the submission of truth and honor to accomplish their design, would require too great a space. After unwearying effort, con-tinued through several years, they at length succeeded in winning the King's reluctant consent to the massacre of St. Bartholomew. At a given signal, in the early morning, the work of destruction began with the murder of Coligni, and when it ceased three days later, fully thirty thousand Huguenots had miserably perished at the hands of the Catholics. The persecution of the Protestants of France continued with varying degrees of savage intensity until the time of Louis XIV. This monarch, when old, was tormented by the memory of his many evil deeds, and sought some way in which he might atone for them before Almighty God. That way was suggested by his Queen, Madame de Maintenon. In pursuance of her awful plan, L,ouis revoked the Edict of Nantes, and outlawed every Huguenot who refused to embrace the Catholic faith. By this act of religious bigotry '' fully three hundred thousand of the most THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. skillful and industrious of the subjects of Louis were driven out of the kingdom. Several of the most important and flourishing of the French industries were ruined, while the manufacturing interests of other countries were correspondingly benefited by the energy, skill and capital which the exiles carried with them." Many of them found their way to America, and their descendants have been among our most distinguished citizens. It is hardly too much to say that France has never recovered fully from the disastrous effects of Iyouis' infamous policy. *(£ 5jC 5|C ^|C 5J» *j£ *(> *1^ In the history of the world it has never been the privilege of any other nation to have such colonial possessions as had England in the New World. Her government of the colonies was one colossal blunder from the beginning, but it remained for the ob-stinacy of George the Third to alienate them wholly and convert them into "a government of the people, by the people and for the people." " He had," says Green, " a smaller mind than any English king before him, save James the Second. He was wretchedly educated, and his natural powers were of the meanest sort.'' He had but one idea—to embody in himself all the powers of the government. " Be a king, George," had been the contin-ually repeated exhortation of his mother from his early youth, and to be a king George thought he must be a tyrant. The story of his tyrannical acts which before twenty years had passed by had driven the American colonies into revolution and independence, and brought England to the verge of ruin, is known to every schoolboy, and would be a twice-told tale if repeated before this audience. L,et it suffice that we in America owe the government, of which we are so proud, to the conceit of one who was the most conspicuous failure that ever disgraced the English throne—to him we owe all, but for it all owe him no thanks. *«i* xL* *1* ^U -J-* *£* •& ^S ^^ *X* *T* *T* *T* *T* I am done. My effort has been to suggest to you the de-structive and pernicious power of ignorance in some of its most common forms. In spite of advancing science, superstition and bigotry and fanaticism still persist, though happily their power is limited in our day to the pen. Our eye is set on that day, no longer far removed, when freedom of thought and speech shall no longer be challenged; when the minds of scholars shall be free from prejudice; when the common man of our land, as in ancient 8 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Greece, shall be able to appreciate arid to enjoy the finest art and literature; when in the workshop and on the farm, at the anvil and before the mast, we shall have men who think. The dawn has already broken; the full day will come in its own good time. REMEMBRANCE, If, perchance, in days to come, A truant thought strays back to me, Pray, believe the kindest ones In turn, are entertained of thee. As the sands along- the shore, To-day are thrown upon the beach, And to-morrow waves return To hurl them far beyond our reach; So the friends of yesterday, The ones we always held so dear, Quietly vanish from our sight, And leave us waiting, lonely here. —B. THE DEATH OF KING SOLOMON. THE king paused in his walk and, leaning against one of the tall pillars of the porch of the palace, gazed long at the flashing glory of the temple which rested like a diadem upon the brow of Mount Moriah. The sun had set ablaze the towering pinnacles of the building, and the burnished gold burned and flashed in the red rays of the setting sun. Already the purple shadows were creeping between the columns, and as the king gazed his face was exceeding sad and the shadows on his brow were deep as those between the columns. His waving hair was whitened by the frosts of three score winters. His eyes had not lost their piercing gaze, but his forehead was furrowed by care and his face had much of the sadness which too much self-indul-gence and the too familiar knowledge of the heartless world en-gender. His cheekbones were high and his chin rather promi-nent. The very spirit of majestic command seemed expressed in all his features. Yet withal, there could be traced about the mouth and eyes those delicate markings which are the imprint of a kindly, generous nature, and which contradicted the cynical THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. expression which sometimes swept like the hand of a demon across his features. In his eyes and towering forehead there was a suggestion of that gigantic intellect which had grappled with all the problems of the universe. Kindly, just and God-fearing, yet self-indulgent, and led astray in his quest of happiness, the sadness which burdened his great soul was mirrored in his coun-tenance. Solomon, the mighty ruler, the matchless judge, the wisest scholar, the profouudcst philosopher and the learned psy-chologist— this Solomon, was old, and weary, and brokenhearted, troubled by the disasters to his great empire, which he foresaw, sad at the thought of many wasted years. As the sun sank below the horizon, he turned away from the temple and cast a momentary glance at the magnificence about him ; then with a gesture of contempt, he walked slowly into the cool, shadowy gardens of his palace. Long but slowly he paced among the shadowy paths, engaged in profound thought. It seemed as if his God, with whom he had once walked very inti-mately, granted him a knowledge of the close approach of death ; for suddenly he straightened his stooping shoulders and lifting his hand beneath a light where the gesture might be seen, he summoned the ever alert attendants. It was the king's will that the court be summoned. Swift runners sped from palace to palace in luxurious Jerusalem. Lords and courtiers rose from banqueting tables and hastened, wonder-ing, toward the palace. For had they not been summoned by the royal word ? And who in all the land might delay when King Solomon called? Surely, none. The great hall of justice was ablaze with light. Throngs of whispering nobles were the evidence of surprise at this night summons. Suddenly all were hushed. The heavy curtains at the royal entrance had been held aside and now the solitary figure of the king moved past the kneeling nobles to the great throne of ivory and gold. The king took his seat between the huge, crouching, golden lions and looked awhile in silence from one face to another. Some were old and tried friends and counsellors who had been with him when as a young man he had received the sceptre from the hand of Israel's God and his father, the royal David. Others were younger, and as his eye glanced from one to another, he thought of their fathers, some of whom were mighty warriors, others wise counsellors. IO THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. At length bespoke: "Oh Nobles, I have summoned you hither this night, at this unaccustomed hour, to bid you farewell. This evening, for the last time, I saw the red light of the depart-ing sun kiss the house of our God, resting upon it like a beuison from the Most High. "I go unto my fathers. To-night, ere the first rays of the morning sun laugh on the waters of Jordan and wake our queenly city from her slumbers, I go on the last, long journey. I am old and very weary of life, and I go to the grave, whither ye all are hastening. '' Oh Nobles—Counsellors and Warriors—ye whose heads are hoar, and who follow me soon, long have we labored together for beloved Israel. Some, perchance, even knew my father, David. Oh, grey-heads ! your king loves you. " And ye, whose raven locks the frosts of many winters may yet whiten, sons of mighty men, my young men, your king loves you not less. Be ye faithful as your fathers to the God of Israel and your king. " Ye have seen my race, which now is nearly run. To the dominions of my father I have added, and have made Israel ex-ceeding strong and mighty. Ye, too, saw me turn aside from following after Jehovah. Ye know the punishment—how I must have this fair kingdom rent and torn from me. But know that the God of Israel, in his measureless kindness and mercy, which are even as the fathomless space of the whirling orbs, has par-doned my transgression and forgiven my sin. " Now the hour is come and your king goes to the court of the Ruler of the universe. My nobles—counsellors, warriors and statesmen—remember your love for Solomon and stand faithful. Turn ye not aside after riches and honor. 'A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold. The rich and poor meet together; the Lord is the maker of them all. A good name is better than precious ointment; and the day of death than the day of one's birth.' " 'Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.' " But the night flees and my strength fails. This night, ere the rosy morning descends from the hills and touches the purple vineyards, I will to be borne to my palace which is beyond Giloh. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. II For, oh Nobles, know that a weary old man wishes, in his weak-ness, to look once more upon his pleasant palace which gleams in its whiteness, amid the green gardens, and from there be gathered unto his fathers. ' Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.' " And now, fare ye well, my Lords ; may the mighty God of Israel be with you. Oh my children, a long farewell." The king stood for a moment with hands outstretched in bless-ing over the silent, awe-struck nobles, then moved with calm and composed step down from the throne at whose base the world had bowed. He gazed a moment longer at the assemblage of grey-headed men, who were separate ; then with a last majestic wave of the hand he passed from the judgment hall and the sight of his nobles forever. He hastened to his waiting chariot and was borne slowly along the road which leads to Hebron. His palace and gardens, with their pools which lay like three turquoise amid a sea of emerald, were his destination. Only once did the king rouse himself from the reverie into which he had fallen. As the white splendor of Jerusalem, bathed in the tropic full-moon, was disappearing behind him, he stood up in the rocking chariot, and with a gesture of matchless dignity, bade a last adieu to his queenly capital. Then he lapsed again into reverie. And of what did he dream? Who can say? Perchance it was of the future, per-chance of the past. Of that past when he ruled at Jerusalem, while the wealth of the world was poured in front of the lions of his ivory throne. The memories of a sacred and glorious past must have thronged upon him. Along this very road the mighty David passed and repassed. Here he had kept his father's flocks as a youth. Back and forth in this vicinity the jealous Saul had hunted him. Yonder, in the velvetry blackness, sleeps Rachel, the beloved of Jacob. There, alone, through the centuries, her ashes rest. A little farther on, at Giloh, the house of Ahithophel, the faithful counsellor of David, suggests its train of memories ; or perhaps some glorious vision of this plain, as it was destined tq appear, bathed in glittering light and echoing to the " Glory, in the Highest" of the angels, may have been vouchsafed to this son of David. And now, beyond Giloh, the chariot approaches the palace, 12 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. in the midst of its gardens. The weary old monarch steps from his chariot as he has done so often before at this spot. Hither, in the past, he has come in the dewey morning to find rest and quiet. And now, in the evening of his life, the king comes to his beautiful gardens to die. How the heart of that mighty ruler must have grieved as he looked back over the desolate years of which he had exclaimed "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!" Slowly the king passes between the sculptured columns of his marble palace which rise, slender and graceful, to the distant roof swimming in dusky shadow; on between the two statuesque guards in their golden armor ; on, into the palace with its purple velvets and its tapestries. Fountains murmur and tinkle about him ; rare birds, strange beasts, gathered from the four corners of the world for the pleasure of this mighty potentate, are all around him. The mingled odors of many flowers float to his nostrils. But they are all unnoticed. In sad and solemn quiet the king paces slowly to his chamber. It has been whispered that the king wishes quiet and to be left alone, and the palace which in the years of the past has been filled with music and oftentimes with the sounds of revelry, seems to be without human inhabitant, and as silent as some great, white mausoleum. Only once, at the break of day, the attendants steal to the chamber of the king, and behold his form outstretched upon the couch, then as if terrified by the sight of the angel of death hovering over the king, they disappear. So, not surrounded by the nobles of the land or by sorrowing dear ones, but alone, the spirit of King Solomon stands on the •brink of the dark waters of the river of death and awaits the sum-mons of the most high God. Thus, while in communion with Jehovah, his spirit unterrified by the approach of death, is con-ducted into the council-chamber of the universe. And Israel's greatest king is dead. For "God's finger touched him," and even as the stars began to fade the mighty spirit of King Solomon had winged its flight into the unknown. Once more the lord of day ascends the dark mountains of Moab, and gleams upon the white palace which rests on the crest of a hill amid its green gardens like the white foam upon the crest of some dark-green wave of the ocean. In this palace, designed only for pleasure and joy, there is sadness and gloom. But the features of the king are tranquil and placid in death. Fven as at THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 13 evening the setting sun may break through the clouds and shine over the gray ocean, soothing the tired waters to rest, so now the morning sun lights up the countenance of the king and shows the perfect peace which has taken the place of the sadness and trouble. Amid the grief of a nation the king has gone to his last, long rest. —Max. THE USES OF DREAMS. C. L. '01. IT may be of interest to note at the outset some of the physical and the psychological phenomena of dreams. " A dream is a train of thought, images or phantasies, that passes through the mind in sleep.'' In dreams we lose all voluntary control over our thoughts, and our minds are, as it were, freed from all re-straints, turned out of the boundaries set by will, and left to roam at pleasure through almost infinite areas of thought and imagina-tion. Some claim that the activity of the soul does not cease for a single moment, and that dreams are one of the results of this constant activity. Others affirm, with equal certainty, that the soul has periods of inactivity and rest, when our sleep is entirely devoid of dreams. But does it not seem more reasonable that we forget our dreams, or rather fail to recollect them ? It is true, of course, that the action of the soul during the hours of slumber is much more feeble than during waking hours, but even this statement cannot be made without exception. Un-doubtedly the imagination is, at times, more lively in sleep than at any other time. A person, whose imagination is notably dull and lifeless, can, oftentimes, especially when just lapsing into un-consciousness, picture before his mind the most lovely, Edenic bowers, fairy landscapes, and scenic views that divest even Alpine glories of their rapturous charms. Occasionally the mind is very active also during periods of somnolence. This is proved by the fact that mathematicians, after having worked for days and weeks, perhaps, on a difficult problem, have finally solved it while wrapped in sleep. Again many persons of small originality and creative genius have composed poems of a merit that would have justly surprised them when awake, and have preached sermons and delivered lectures to enraptured audiences. Some persons of little or no musical ability have in their dreams outrivaled Mozart 14 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. and Beethooven in their musical productions, and their render-ing of them, and surpassed Jenny Lind and Patti in their vocal successes. The idea that the ancients had of dreams was vastly different from that which prevails at present. When superstition and witchcraft were fastened to everybody's creed, when ghosts stalked to and fro in every graveyard and haunted the scene of every murder, when enchanting sprites, bewitching elves, and diabolical imps jostled each other in the minds of nobleman and peasant, a dream was thought to be something of great import-ance and of good or evil omen. As each succeeding age has broken one or more of the super-stitious fetters with which it was bound and has approached nature and nature's God, and looked at nature not as a blind in-congruous force, but as an orderly and harmonious creation, evil has been traced to its source and found to consist not in the un-accountable and uncontrollable flights of a fanciful imagination, but in natural laws that have been violated or broken. This contrast may be explained by the difference between ancient and modern philosophy in accounting for the origin of evil. In Homer the thought is often emphasized that " Dreams come from Zeus," and a dream often meant as much as the flight of birds or the con-dition of the inspected vitals. The undertaking of an important expedition or of a desperate conflict often turned upon a dream of an officer during the preceding night, and many an unsuc-cessful exploit or disastrous defeat was traced to an ill-omened dream. Just after the expedition of " The Ten Thousand Im-mortals " had started on its perilous journey toward the capital of " The Great King," Xenophon, the leader of the expedition, had a dream in which, in the midst of a terrific thunder storm, he saw a ball of lightning fall upon his father's house, enveloping it in flames. The report following the bolt waked him. He considered the dream favorable because it seemed to be a token sent from Zeus, the author of dreams. On the other hand it seemed like an evil omen in that it might be interpreted that the " Immortals " were to be surrounded by the barbarian hordes as the house had been by the flames. No doubt the wretched failure of the expedition was largely accounted for by the commander's dream. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 15 Possibly no other book is so replete with stories of dreams as the Bible. It is reasonable to suppose that before the dawning of the " New Dispensation " divine communications were often sent to mortals through the media of dreams. Joseph's dreams seemed to his jealous brothers, and also to his devoted father, to be a mere idle, if not presumptuous, fancy of superiority over them. His brothers hated him because of their own interpreta-tion of his dreams. They were unable to free their minds of the unpleasant prophesies which they thought the dreams contained, so they cast him in a pit at Dothan, and then, as if to make more sure against the dreams' fulfillment they bartered him off to an Egypt-bound caravan of Ishmaelites. This " Dreamer " in-terpreted his own dream, and his brorhers were, afterwards, only too glad to make obeisance to his fruitful sheaf. Passing by many significant dreams, let us notice the dream which came to Joseph, husband of Man', the mother of Jesus. He was warned in a dream not to remain in Judea, but "to take the young child and his mother and flee into Egypt." Upon the prompt obedience to this dream depended the life of the infant Jesus. Had Pilate heeded the warning of his wife's dream, he would not have delivered up Jesus to be crucified. In these in-stances dreams seemed to be angelic messengers from God with important dispatches. We recall the dream of the late, venerable Dr. A. J. Gordon, pastor of the Clarendon Street Baptist Church, Boston, which in-spired him to write that popular book, "How Christ Came to Church." In his preface the author states that he is not so sup-erstitious as to believe that every dream has a good or a bad meaning, but he believes, as in his own dream, we may learn val-uable lessons and receive wonderful inspiration even from dreams. Indeed, there are many cases on record where a dream has in-spired the mind to accomplish a skillful and even a masterful fete. Coleridge's " Kubla Khan" was suggested to him by a dream while he sat napping in his chair. Upon awaking, he seized his pen and wrote from memory that composition. The great musician, Tartani, composed his famous "Devil's Sonata" under the influence of a dream, in which his Satanic Majesty en-chanted Tartani by his wonderful exhibition of skill upon the violin, and challenged the dreamer to a match. As soon as Tar- i6 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. tani awoke he took up his violin and composed, in answer to the challenge, the above named composition. In the time of Shakespeare dreams were often misunderstood, and one of the most unpleasant aspects of death was the frightful dreams which were thought to accompany it. In Hamlet's So-liloquy on Death, when contemplating suicide, the " dread of something after death"—harrowing dreams, prevents him from becoming his own murderer. "To die,—to sleep ; To sleep ! perchance to dream /—ay, there's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause." It is the thought of these fearful dreams that makes him decide to bear " Those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of." We owe a debt of gratitude to those promoters of civilization which have unveiled to us those harmless forces which were for centuries enshrouded in an awful mysticism. We recognize that dreams are simply the production of an unbridled fancy, of an imagination uncurbed by will, the "reflections of our waking thoughts." We no longer believe that to dream of gold is good luck, and to dream of silver, bad luck. We reply to such a thought the words of the proverb, " It is as idle as a dream.'' We sometimes gain some inspiration and profit from dreams, but we do not invest them with power to bring us either ill or harm. We see in them a proof of our immortality, and often associate them with our condition after death, but in no terrifying way, and as far as disturbing dreams are concerned, we may meet our death " Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." .THE. GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Entered at the Postojice at Gettysburg as second-class matter. Voi,. IX. GETTYSBURG, PA., MARCH, 1900. No. 1 Editor-in- Chief, . A. VAN ORMER, '01. Assistant Editors, W. H. HETRICK, W. A. KOHLER. Business Manager, H. C. HOFFMAN. Alumni Editor, REV. F. D. GARLAND. Assistant Business Manager, WILLIAM C. NEY. Advisory Board, PROF. J. A. HIMES, LIT. D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D. D. Published monthly by the students of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg-) College. Subscription price, One Dollar a year in advance; single copies Ten Cents. Notice to discontinue sending the MERCURY to any address" must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors, and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORS DESK. WITH this issue the ninth volume of THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY begins. The retiring staff, continuing the work of their predecessors, have delivered into our hands a journal that occupies a high place among college publi-cations of the state. Their encouraging words and helpful sug-gestion, together with the kindly expressions of THE GETTYS-BURGIAN, and. the readiness with which contributors have re-sponded to our call for material, give us encouragement. We now fully realize the burden of work that it is ours to bear; neither are we insensible of the responsibilities that rest upon us; hence we solicit a continuation of the same co-opera-tion thus far extended to us, that we may present to the students, alumni, and friends of the institution a literary journal worthy of Pennsylvania College. i8 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. The recurrence of the twenty-second of February naturally causes one to look back through the not yet dim vists of Ameri-can history to the days of the Great Commander, whose life is a panorama of noble, self-sacrificing, patriotic deeds. We read with admiration of his boyhood and youth ; we see his growing worth as he delivers Gov. Dinwiddie's message to the French officer ; we gaze upon him with }oy as he tells the British general how to fight the Indians ; we laud his bravery as we see him in the front of many battles, and as he crosses the raging Delaware on that fateful Christmas night; we raise our hats in reverence while he fervently implores the interposition of the God of Bat-tles in behalf of the Continental armies ; but to know his true worth we must follow him further—we must see him cast aside the proffered crown and become a private citizen; we must note his magnanimous spirit at Yorktown, read the record of his suc-cessful administrations, stud}' his farewell to the American people and follow him once more into private life ere we can fully ap-preciate him whom '' Providence left childless that he might be called the Father of his Country." A WORD DESERVED. THE business manager and the assistant business manager of the late MERCURY staff have done so much for the journal that they should receive special mention in its columns. The chief difficulty in the way of the monthly nearly always has been lack of money. Occasionally, but not often, a manager has been found who, at the expiration of his term, could give a respectable report to the literary societies. Two years ago, on account of financial embarrassment, the monthly was changed from a news and literary journal to a journal entirely literary, and its name was changed to "THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY." In the first year, during which at least one issue was not published for want of money, THE MERCURY ran in debt, and serious thought was at times entertained by the staff of giving up the paper altogether. Such was the pecuniary condition of THE MERCURY when it fell into the hands of Mr. Hamacher and Mr. Moore. As regards what was done, it is sufficient to say that at present the paper is THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 19 on the best financial basis she .ever has known, and considering the chaotic state in which the late staff received it, we may say-without exaggeration that Mr. Hamacher has proved himself an exemplary business manager. —H., '00. MEETING OP THE PENNSYLVANIA COLLEGE ALUMNI ASSOCIATION OP HARRISBURG. THE annual business meeting and banquet of the Pennsyl-vania College Alumni Association of Harrisburg and vi-cinity was held at the "Harrisburg Club" on the evening of February 27th. At the business meeting the Committee on Or-ganization and By-laws submitted a Constitution which, with several minor alterations, was duly adopted. An election was }hen held for the selection of officers for the current year, the following being elected : President, M. H. Buehler, Harrisburg ; Vice-Presidents, Capt. F. M. Ott, Harrisburg; Rev. D. H. Gilbert, Harrisburg; Rev. F. D. Weigel, Mechanicsburg; Secretary and Treasurer, Chas. Hollinger, Harrisburg. At the termination of the business meeting the members ad-journed to the banquet hall of the Club, the walls of which were gracefully draped with flags and college colors, while numerous palms and other tropical plants were tastily scattered about the hall. In an alcove to one side was seated a full orchestra and mandolin club which rendered classical selections during the pro-gress of the banquet. Covers were laid for forty-two and an ex-tensive menu, served in the highest style of the culinary art, was thoroughly enjoyed. The Association had the honor of entertaining as its guests prominent Alumni of the various educational institutions; Yale being represented by Hon. Lyman Gilbert, Harrisburg; Prince-ton by Charles A. Bergner, Harrisburg; Dickinson by its Pres-ident, Dr. George E. Reed ; Irving by President Campbell; Penn-sylvania College by President H. W. McKnight, Prof. O. F. Klinger and Prof. Chas. Huber ; other guests being Mr. Charles A. Kunkel, Harrisburg, and Dr. Leslie Kauffman, of Kauffman, Pa. The office of Toastmaster was ably filled by Capt. F. M. Ott, '70, and toasts were responded to as follows : "Pennsylvania Col- 20 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. - lege," Prof. 0. F. Klinger; "Yale," Hon. Eyman D. Gilbert; "Colleges for Our Sisters," Dr. E. E- Campbell; "Princeton," Charles H. Bergner, Esq.; "Our Rival," Dr. George E. Reed; "Our Alumni," M. W. Jacobs, Esq. Addresses were also made by President McKnightand Rev. Dr. D. M. Gilbert. This initial banquet of the Association proved to be an unqualified success and was one of the most successful and complete functions of the kind ever held in Harrisburg. The members of the association present were : Rev. T. B. Birch, Prof. C. F. Kloss, Prof J. F. Kempfer, Rev. E. D. Weigel, all of Mechanicsburg; Rev. M. P. Hocker, Steelton ; Rev. Benj. R. Lantz, Millersburg ; Rev. G. M. K. Diffenderfer, Newport; Dr. J. F. Staley, Mr. F. W. Staley, Middletown; J. S. Alleman, Esq., Arthur D. Bacon, M. H. Buehler, Jno. F. Dapp, Meade D. Detweiler, Esq., Rev. Luther DeYoe, Dr. C. B. Fager, Dr. V. H. Fager, Prof. L,. O. Foose, Rev. D. M. Gilbert, Jno. W. Hay, M. D., C. H. Hollinger, John Hoffer, Jr., M. W. Jacobs, Esq., Croll Keller, Dr. Geo. B. Kunkel, Rev. Marion J. Kline, Dr. J. B. Mc- Alister, Capt. F. M. Ott, Dr. C. A. Rahter, Rev. M. H. Stine, Dr. H. B. Walter, E. H. Wert, Esq., H. M. Witman, all of Har-risburg, and Rev. J. Edw. Byers, Penbrook. ^ THE VEIL OE SEPARATION. " Ah sir, there are times in the history of men and nations when they stand so near the veil that separates mortals from im-mortals, time from eternity, and men from their God, that they can almost hear the breathings and feel the pulsations of the heart of the Infinite. Through such a time has this Nation gone, and when two hundred and fifty thousand brave spirits passed from the field of honor through that thin veil to the presence of God, and when at last its parting folds admitted the martyred President to the dead heroes of the Republic, the Nation stood so near the veil that the whispers of God were heard by the children of men." —JAMBS A. GARFIBW. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 21 E THE DEAD ON EXPANSION. XPANSION is in future the policy of our country, and only cowards fear and oppose it."—Buchanan. " It is of very dangerous tendency and doubtful con-sequences to enlarge the boundaries of this country. There must be some limit to the extent of our territory, if we would make our institutions permanent. I have always wished that the country should exhibit to the nations of the earth this example of a great, rich, powerful republic which is not possessed of the spirit of aggrandizement. It is an example, I think, due from us to the world in favor of the character of republican government." —Webster. " We are not seeking annexation of territory, certainly we do not desire it unless it should come by the volition of a people who might ask the priceless boon of a place under the flag of the Union. I feel sure that for a long time to come the people of the United States will be wisely content with our present area, and not launch upon any scheme of annexation."—Blaine. The editor of the School Gazette, after quoting the above, ex-plains that the utterances of Buchanan and Webster were made when the South sought to increase the territory of the Union, and that Blaine's statement is only ten years old. Her Dewey lips Hobsoned his, while like a Shaft'er glance, Schley-ly thrown with a Sampson's strength, pierced through his heart, Weyl'er true love was Miles away, suffering Cervera heart-pangs than this false woman could believe. "O'tis beyond me," said he," why I should Merritt this ?'.'—From the Lesbion Herald. " When you see a stately temple, Fair and beautiful and bright, With its lofty towers and turrets Glistening- in the sun's clear light, Think how soon the noble structure Would to shapeless ruin fall, Were it not for sure foundations Firmly laid beneath it all." —DR. C. H. PAYNB. II 22 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. THE OLD CHIEF AND THE BLACKSMITH. THE final day had come and the east was already bright with day. In golden splendor the pure sun mounted the hori-zon of a calm, cloudless sky. Its yellow rays lit up the green patches of corn and pasture in the most delicate colors and tiuted the distant mountains, stretched in majestic line far into the north, in soft purple. All was calm and peaceful. Silence seemed to rule the universe, as if it had hushed it for a great oc-casion. What an occasion it was ! Among those mountains the poor Indian was busy long before sunrise preparing with sorrow-ful mood a journey of the deepest woe and gloom. Yes, this was the day. The red man must change his home. Those hills so rich in fruit and grain were not his. The barren mountains had no place for him. He lived on the white man's ground. He hunted the white man's game. One last, lingering look on a happy home, the abode of his ancestors, his rightful inheritance, where once he enjoyed his wild day unmolested and drove his game over unclaimed land. He must go and the white man gives no farewell, no sign of sorrow, no clasp of the hand, save one, a hard laborer, an honest blacksmith. The early morning found his roughly-made work-shop at the foot of the mountains in full operation. Now the noisy anvil broke the deep silence and now the groaning bellows breathed loud and heavily, sending the black smoke far into the clear sky. Within and without in scattered heaps lay almost everything that a smith could make use of, and much more that he couldn't use at all. The workman stood by the side of the forge, his one hand bounding up and down with the handle of the bellows, the other poking at intervals the roaring flame with an iron rod. He was a large, broad-shouldered man, with slightly bended back, a re-sult of his much stooping. A thick gray beard swept his broad breast, which was partly exposed by an open shirt. His face was large and stout, of hard masculine expression, full of force and intelligence. A well proportioned head, broad, high forehead and prominent chin, showed a man of no low, trivial thought, but one of judgment and decision ; a man, who, if he would have a chance to develope his powers, might have been a genius, but by force of circumstances remained uneducated, possessing, however, THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 23 a great amount of good common sense, which he made use of when the occasion demanded it. As he stood by his work his brow was tightly contracted and his eyes firmly fixed on the flame. He was thinking. What were his thoughts ? Let us believe that he was thinking of the Indian. He ofteu thought of him. He pitied him. He believed that the Indian deserved a home and that he could love a home with as much tenderness and fidelity as any one else ; that he had feelings and that he had a soul as immortal as his own. Such were the thoughts of this poor workman as he stood in his shop on the last day for the Indian in his Eastern home. Suddenly a man appeared before the door. The smith, somewhat taken by surprise in the midst of his thought, quickly turned and beheld before him a neighbor; a farmer who was generally known in the community as being of a sour, selfish disposition ; a man with whom the smith could never become wholly reconciled. He was one of those many persons whose only care and thought is to en-large his borders, heap up his wealth, drive his wife and children at the first peep of day from their warm beds into the fields, and at evening reckon a profit of five cents a good day's work. He had no thought for the Indian. He hated him and could scarcely wait until he would leave the country forever. The reason for this was a selfish one. He found out that the Indians had dis-covered a silver mine iu the mountains and were working it with immense success. "They couldn't take this along," he argued, ' 'so the first man to find it would be its owner.'' He knew that the blacksmith was in close friendship with the redskins, and more than likely would know more about its locality and value than any other person in the neighborhood. He therefore came at an early hour to the shop. The smith began the conversation. " Good morning, Henry. A beautiful day?" "Splendid," replied the farmer. "They can't complain of bad weather.'' " No, they can't," answered the smith, " and I don't believe the weather bothers them much. They have other things to com-plain about; a lost home, for instance." "And lost produce and grain," quickly returned Henry. " I'll warrant they will have to raise their own now." " Henry," answered the smith with earnest expression, look-ing his visitor fair in the face, " I don't believe they ever stole a 24 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. cent's worth from you. You have not treated the Indian right and he knows it, and before he would steal your crops in revenge behind your back, he would meet you face to face like a man." " Well, what I see with my own eyes I guess I can believe," replied the farmer in great haste. " But whether they stole it or not, how about the mine? They can't take it along." " No, they surely can't," said the smith, sorrowfully, " but I would to God they could. Some of our greedy neighbors, ex-cuse the word, Henry, you know it's the truth, some of our greedy neighbors can hardly wait until the Indian leaves to lay hold on that mine, the only means the poor creatures have of making a livelihood. They are friendless, homeless, without pity or sympathy, and worse than all, an unknown west before them. It's shameful. But, Henry, one thing I wish with all my heart, and that is that these mountains might bury the treasure deep in their bosoms before the merciless white man pollutes it with his unworthy hand." "Come, come, come," began the other. "You're on your old subject again. That isn't the point. Some one will get it and so why not try for a share ?" No sooner had the last word slipped from the lips of the farmer than both were startled by the clatter of hoofs over the little road-bridge by the side of the shop. Henry walked briskly to the door, saw the Indian, immediately returned, somewhat paler, however, and whispered to the smith, " It's the chief." The Indian entered, dressed in all the gaudy decorations of his rank. His black silk hair fell gracefully about his muscular shoulders. His face was broad and brown, painted in circular stripes of various colors. A pair of black eyes, tightly pinched, glanced sharply over his high, prominent cheek-bones. Although old, as the wrinkles in his forehead would indicate, he seemed as agile and quick of motion as a young warrior on his first hunt. Bending himself slightly forward he made a becoming salute with his right arm, and, with eyes tenderly fixed on the old smith, ad-dressed him. '' What I have to say will not be long. You know all. The red man must leave his native hills for the barren west. The day has come when he must bid adieu to his mountain home. He comes to give good-bye to a friend. The Indian leaves many enemies, but he comes to give the blacksmith a kind farewell. He envies not his little home, his small fields, his blacksmith THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 25 shop. May he live in peace. May prosperity gladden his ad-vancing years. Ah, no more shall he bend his back beneath the horse. No more shall he swing the sledge. The red man's friend shall be rich in fields, proud in wealth, honored among men. The treasures of mines shall make happy his children's homes. His grand-children shall live well, they shall be truly fortunate. The Indian's silver shall be theirs and it shall prosper in their hands." " Come," continued the chief, drawing a silken scarf from his waist, " come, friend, let me bind your eyes and I will lead you to a treasure such as man never beheld before. Come, it is yours." The old smith was astonished at the chief's offer. He stood mute and silent. Recovering himself he approached nearer to the Indian and with broken speech humbly addressed him. "I thank you heartily, chief, for your ofier, but I cannot accept it. I live happy. I work hard all day long and am satis-fied with my little home and family. What do I want with all that wealth ? Why do I deserve it ? I could not rest night or day by living off of the Indian's silver. No, chief, I refuse it. I thank you for the offer, but give or sell the mine to one who could work it with untroubled conscience." The chief was greatly troubled by the smith's refusal and was on the point of pressing his offer further, when Henry broke in, his face beaming from ear to ear as though he was sure it was his already. " I'll let you bind my eyes, venerable chief. I'll take it." The Indian, with angry countenance, drew back in amaze-ment and with scorn answered him. "Youtakeit! Ah, no, no, no, white man ! Rather let it rot with the ages than have it en-rich the hand of an enemy." Approaching the smith again he kindly entreated him to accept. "It's yours, take it. Come, let me Show you your wealth ?" " No, I can't accept it," inter-rupted the smith humbly. " It would bring worriment upon my gray hairs and strife among my children. No, I can't manage so large a treasure." The chief, now aware that it would be useless to urge him further, quickly stepped forward and said : " Then, if you will not take my silver, take my hand. The mine will remain where it is. Man cannot find it. It is the Indian's treasure and ever shall be." Then bowing low before the old man he withdrew to his horse, mounted and departed for the mountains. The farmer, j| 26 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. not feeling very well, quietly walked to the door and was gone without a word. It was some time before the blacksmith returned to his work and resumed his place at the forge. He thought the matter over and over and finally concluded that he had done the right thing. He worked hard that whole day till evening, when he locked the shop, walked silently home and told his wife and children the whole story. They all in the old quaint way agreed that father had done the best and so went to bed and slept. The next morning the smith arose bright and early, as usual, greatly refreshed from the anxiety of the previous day. After breakfast he started for his shop, which was not far distant, thinking not so much of the fortune which he had refused as Of the wandering Indians, who must have been by that time far on their journey. Arriving at the shop he unlocked the shabby door, entered it and taking a small iron shovel from the wall stepped to the forge and began to clear away the ashes to start a fire. After thrusting his shovel several times into the heap, he became greatly astonished at the smallness of the hole. It seemed to have grown much smaller during the night. Bending over the forge he began to scrape away the ashes with his rough hand. To his surprise he found that at the bottom of the open-ing stood a bright, round kettle filled with silver blocks about an inch square. With trembling hands he lifted the treasure from its hiding place and stood it on the anvil, noticing at the same time a small piece of paper sticking out over the rim of the vessel. Drawing this gently from the blocks he unfolded it and saw drawn in rough outline the figure of an Indian, under which was written the words, " To the Indian's friend." —W. H. H., '01. " "When you see a mig-hty forest, With its tall and stately trees, Lifting' up their giant branches; Wrestling with the wintry breeze; Do not fail to learn the lesson Which the moaning winds resound, Every oak was once an acorn, All unnoticed on the ground." —DR. C. H. PAYNE. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 27 WHY WE BROKE CAMP. TEIYL you a story? Well, if you have patience enough I'll tell you of an experience I had last summer vacation, while on a camping trip. You see, every summer vacation when I come home I spring it on the " old gent," that, after having worked so hard for nine months, my poor brain needs rest. Well, he takes it all in, and gives me a vacation of several weeks. Then the old gang gets together, and we go on a few weeks' loaf. Fun ? Well, I should say so. I^ast Summer, following our usual custom, we visited "Straw-berry Island," a beautiful little Island in the middle of the broad Susquehanna. Here there is but one small village of a few hun-dred population. The rest of the square mile of the island is heavily wooded, and affords an excellent place for campers. Usually there are anywhere from three to six parties camping on the island. But at the time we were there none of the others had yet arrived. Soon we were settled down, and were enjoying ourselves very much in hunting and fishing. One evening after we had been there about a week, I went to the village for our mail. When I got back, and distributed the letters to their respective owners, I took my own letters and drew apart a little to read them. The first one I opened was from my father. (You know my father is postmaster in the town in which I live, and, as it is a pretty large town, usually has large quantities of stamps, besides a good deal of money, on hand.) Well, to continue where I left off, the first letter was from my father, and the very first line conveyed to me the startling news that the post-office had been robbed the previous week of a considerable sum of money and about $400 worth of stamps. There was no clue to the robbers, and at present the officers were at a stand-still in their investigations. It is needless to tell you that I was surprised at the news. My first thought was to leave for home next day, but further in the letter father said I needn't let this spoil my fun, and that I should stay as long as I wished. So I decided to stay. The next afternoon I was appointed to run over the island in search of some stray chickens for our evening meal. I started about four o'clock, and leisurely made my way across the island. About a quarter-mile beyond the village I came upon a thick 28 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. clump of trees and undergrowth, situated about three hundred yards from a farmhouse. Thinking this would be a good place for the chickens, I cautiously made my way into the thickest part of the copse. Suddenly I was startled by hearing a gruff voice directly in front of me. I stopped at once, and soon heard another voice, raised in an altercation with the first speaker. He was cursing him roundly for a cheat and a rascal, saying that after having done the dirty work (I couldn't quite catch what), he wasn't going to take a cent less than half of the haul. I be-came interested in what was going on, and crept closer to the speakers, and saw two as villainous and rough looking toughs as ever I beheld. Between them they had a large bag of money, and beside the larger of them lay a peculiar oblong tin box, which somehow or other seemed very familiar to me. All at once it struck me that that was the stamp box which I had seen so often in my father's safe at home. Then it flashed upon me that these were the robbers who had so neatly eluded the officers of the law. My first impulse was to get back to camp at once, tell the other fellows about the robbery and my discovery, and then come and capture these fellows. But, on second thought, I saw it would be wiser to watch them, and find out where they took the booty. Soon the rascals came to an agreement, and decided that they would hide the " swag " until a convenient time should offer for them to dispose of it. They then picked up the bag and stamp box and made their way toward the other side of the island. It was now nearly dark, and I thought I could safely follow them. So I waited till they had gone, and then cautiously picked my way after them. After a half-hour's walk they came to a small tent pitched in a wooded hollow near the shore. They entered here, and I crept up close to catch every word concerning the disposal of the money and stamps. After a good deal of discussion they decided to bury it in the ground under the tent, and in order to do this I knew they would have to move the tent; so I quietly slipped away and hurried off as quickly as possible to our camp, and told the boys about the whole matter. They were eager to go at once, and even more so when I told them that the postoffice authorities had offered a re-ward of $500 for the capture of the robbers. Now, this meant $100 apiece for us, and we could do a good many things on $100. So we decided to go that very night. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 29 We had with us several revolvers and hunting-guns. Each fellow armed himself with one of these, and was soon ready to set out. We started about eleven o'clock, and reached the village a half-hour later. Here I stepped into a store, telephoned to the police at home that I had caught the thieves, and then proceeded. About twelve o'clock we were nearly at the robbers' camp, and I told my chums to take it easy so that we might take the men by surprise. Every fellow cocked his revolver and made ready for business. We crept silently up to the tent, and, peering in, saw two dark forms lying within, sound asleep. Then we entered, and order-ing two of the boys to cover each man, I proceeded to awake the larger and tougher of them. I succeeded pretty quickly, and soon had him securely bound, and then proceeded to do the same for his partner. We found all the booty buried in the earth under the tent, and then loosening our prisoners' legs, ordered them to march on ahead. We soon reached our camp, and binding the men again so that they could not get away, we took turns at guarding them during the night. We held them till the next evening, when my father came with two officers. We all set out for home, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the malefactors in prison. In due time we received the reward. I saved mine, and father added a substan-tial sum to it. That's the reason I am flush this term. Come up town and have some oysters on me, the whole gang. — " APFI,EBEB." '■ Oh, wad some power the g-iftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us ! It wad frae monil a blunder free us And foolish notion, What airs in dress and g'ait wad lea' us And e'en devotion." -BURNS. i\ 30 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE. GRACE had been said. The preacher of the village, whose gray hairs had never been endangered by conjugal wrath, in short, who was a bachelor, had performed that solemn office, as was his wont, at the Lyn boarding-house. Around the table sat six. The preacher, by right of his sober mien and broadcloth, of course, occupied the first place of honor, that is, he sat at the end of the table next the door leading into the pantry, from which issued the appetizing sound of the sizzling, sputtering and splashing of the cooking, or the rattle and clatter of pots and pans, and occasionally, to vary the program, the bang of falling dishes invariably followed by a lecture on culinary economy and general management by the matron of the establish-ment, who at divers times and in divers manners, delivered these emphatic and lengthy dissertations to the cook, a buxom, grin-ning lass of perhaps sixteen summers, who bore several red marks on her face, testifying to the violence of gesture with which the lecturer was accustomed to drive home her rather striking argu-ments. Next to the preacher sat Mr. Eyn, who boasted the empty title of " Eord of the House "—a little, pinched, henpecked piece of crusty mortality, who spoke with a very emphatic "I intend" or " I will," but, as I observed, only when his wife was in the pan-try and the door closed. In her presence, or within range of her eye through the open pantry door, he seemed to sink about six inches in stature, and peep slyly out of the corners of his e3'es, like a cat expecting a sudden and unannounced visitation of boot-jacks and stove-pokers. Beside the hard-fated Mr. Lyn was situated, geographically speaking, a volcano of sentimental effusion, or, perhaps better, sat the village poet. He looked like a poet, at least to a stranger, having all the visible qualifications—long hair, a sentimental air, a canary-like whimper that sometimes sounded like the sigh of a zephyr, and a box of dyspepsia tablets sticking out of his vest pocket, which would most strongly confirm the theory suggested by the unbarbered hair. At the end of the table, opposite the snowy-templed " shep-herd in Israel," sat the school-mistress, another very important functionary in the village, enthroned in dignity and starch. She THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 31 always dressed in a rusty shade of brown satin, evidently to match her complexion, and had it so thoroughly starched that she could sit down only in one way, there being only one hinge in the dress. She was always " precise" and plain, never bedecked herself with flowers, perhaps because she couldn't starch them. Slight in figure, in her rusty armor she looked not altogether unlike a mud-wasp— a dignified mud-wasp. Her features denoted character, but as Pat said, who sat around the corner from her, they looked a little smoke-dried. Pat was a red-nosed Irishman, with a broad, open, jolly Irish face, always lit up with an expression of bantering humor, and partly covered with a thin, scattered crop of stubble. He was the man of all work about the establishment, and bossed about by the lady of the house, curtly snapped at by the next highest power, Mr. Lyn, divinely stared at by the volcano, furiously glared at by the mud-wasp, and reproached every now and then by the preacher for profanity, he bad a very wretched time of it, and often gave that as a reason for the redness of his nose. "Be-jabbers," he would say, " Oi must droon moi troubles;" but how he drowned his troubles by reddening his nose I never could imagine. Grace had been said, as I stated before, and Jane began to serve roast chicken, starting with the preacher. " Thank you, my girl," said his reverence in his blandest tone as she turned from him to the poet, who took a wing with a smile—a very poetic smile—and, holding it up on a fork that all could see it, in his softest canary notes began : " Oh for the wings of an angel, To fly to that heavenly shore, I would leave this land of sorrow, There in joy to dwell evermore." " Oh, how delectable !" exclaimed the ecstatic teacher. "What spontaneity and brilliancy of genius ! Surely, Mr. Bilious, you have been endowed with those peculiar qualities of intellect which combine with a deep and susceptible emotional nature to consti-tute those favored and favorite mortals, whose function in life and society is to add to the general happiness of humanity ; one of those who drink of Olympian fountains and feast on the ambrosial —the ambrosial—feast on the ambrosial—in short, Mr. Bilious, you are a poet." She always rattled out her comments in a man- 32 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. \ ner something like a hysterical alarm-clock, and stopped for the same reason, too—because she was run down. The flattered rhymer, in his confusion and gratitude, blushed a sort of 3^ellow green, and fumbled about in his inspired cranium for a suitable answer, when Pat relieved him. " Ay, Midam, a pooet's boorn a pooet; ye can't make 'im." Though "Madam" rarely condescended to notice any of Pat's remarks, she replied: "Mr. O'Brien, I fully appreciate the force and significance of that sententious and universal truth to which you have just given utterance. I find it true, in my ramblings through the variegated fields of imaginative literature, that a skill-ful master of the poetic art must—must possess certain natural endowments of mind and feeling. He may avail himselfof the most efficient intellectual discipline in the most advanced institutions of learning, established in either hemisphere, the Eastern or the Western, fortne impartation of knowledge and mental develop-ment, and yet, sir, may never gain admission into the temple of the Muses." " Yis, a pooit's loike an iditor. Ye moight fade a goat tin years on newspaipers, but shtill ye couldn't make an iditor av 'im." Very much to Pat's annoyance—for he felt unusually honored in being patronized by such an able representative of scholarship and high English—the poet, who felt that they were both allud-ing to him, chimed in : " If Nature on you doth bestow it, To reveal her charms, to be a poet, In school or out you're bound to show it, And all the world will some time know it." "Och, bedad," supplemented Pat, with a dubious smile of malicious humor, intending to punish Mr. Bilious for this obtru-sive sally, "Ye remoindmeso much of Samson in the Scriptures." The poet shook out his tresses of black, hanging in Miltonic waves over his shoulder, proud to have them compared to Sam-son's immortal looks of strength, but Pat. continued : " Ye both use th' same wippin, only ye make pooetry with it and he slew the inimies of Israel." Of course, we laughed; the preacher till he was as red as Pat's nose, I till my sides ached, and even the school-mistress smiled as loud as the constitutional gravity of her deportment would permit, the poet, all the while, turning alter- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 33 nately red, white and blue, and looking as though he had swal-lowed a smoothing-iron. Mr. Lyn alone did not smile—the pan-try door was open. The cook was seized with a fit of tittering that went nigh end-ing with her dropping the coffeepot, with which she had now reached the school-mistress, filling the cups as she went round the table. " O Miss Jane, do exercise more vigilant care lest you occa-sion some disastrous calamity. Just cogitate how seriously I might have been scalded by that liquid, in that state of violent ebullition, as you undoubtedly apprehend. Such inexcusable carelessness cannot, must not be tolerated, young lady." Jane, somewhat abashed, colored and would have attempted an apology, but the preacher, ever ready to rescue one in embar-rassment, interposed : " Nothing hurt, Jane; accidents will hap-pen everybody. I don't wish them to you," he added, with an air of cheerful gallantry, " but I like to see you blush up ; your cheeks look like peaches." " Yis, yer Riverence," added Pat, "and Oi am so fand of paiches," looking at the preacher and then at the cook. The teacher had, by far, too positive notions of propriety not to rebuke the facetious Patrick. " Undoubtedly, Mr. O'Brien, you have not had the advantages which the cultured usually de-nominate the ' privileges of high society,' those elements of good-breeding enjoyed in homes of education and refinement, or un-doubtedly you would not be guilty of the audacity, so boldly and improperly to allude to the female employee of the establishment in which you occupy the humble position of a menial. Mr. O'Brien, I certainly am surprised." Pat looked at me and winked, evidently not much discon-certed by the bombardment. •'You exhibit," she continued, angry because Pat did not wilt, " directly under and within the range of my ocular vision, such indecency towards me, one so manifestly your superior"— another wink. "Well, did I ever!" she ejaculated, closing her mouth with a snap like a pocketbook, looking daggers all the while at the unabashed Mr. O'Brien. "Did ye iver," rejoined the impregnable Patrick. "It's moire than Oi can till ye what ye iver did; yer auld enough to 34 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. have done imiything, judgin', as the poet says, 'by the silver min-gled mang th' gauld.' " '' Sir,'' sharply retorted the now thoroughly enraged pre-ceptress, "I do not propose—" " Nay, Midim," interrupted Pat., " Oi didn't ask ye to pro-pose, and there's no danger of innybody havin' ye innyhow, un-less p'rhaps yed propose in the dairk av th' moon." During this passage between the scholarly tongue of the out-raged pedagogue and the native wit of the mischievous Irishman none of us dared to laugh out, though we suffered severely with suppressed mirth, which, in my case, played a little game of earth-quake in my abdominal regions, made me drink two glasses of water in quick succession and spill half a cup of coffee over the table. Determined to beat a retreat with at least the honors of war, she turned from the Irishman, as if perfectly disgusted with his conduct, and addressed Jane, who was about to give her a^second cup of coffee. " No, thank you. If I should indulge in the sec-ond cup of this beverage, although I consider it exquisitely pal-atable and invigorating, when administered, or rather taken, in moderate quantities, my digestive organ would be greatly exag-gerated— I mean aggravated, and probably develop in the course of time sub-acute gastritis or some other modification of irritant poisoning. Indeed, I have entertained the greatest apprehension of"—just then the door bell rang, and I was called out. —A. N. ONYMOUS. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. C. H. SOLT MERCHANT TAILOR Masonic Bldg., GETTYSBURG Our collection of Woolens for the coming Fall and Winter season cannot be surpassed for variety, attractive designs and general completeness. The latest styles of fashionable novelties in the most approved shades. Staples of exceptional merit, value and wearing durability. Also altering, repairing, dyeing and scouring at moderate prices. .FOR UP-TO-DATE. Clothing, Hats, Shoes, And Men's Furnishing' Goods, go to. I. HALLEM'S MAMMOTH CLOTHING HOUSE, Chambersburg St., GETTYSBURG, PA. ESTABLISHED 1867 BY ALLEN WALTON. ALLEN K. WALTON, President and Treasurer. ROBT. J. WALTON, Superintendent. flammelstomn Broom Stone Gompany Quarrymen and Manufacturers of Building Stone, Sawed Flagging and Tile Waltonville, Dauphin Co., Pa. Contractors for all kinds of Cut Stone Work. Parties visiting the Quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station on the P Telegraph and Express Address. BROWNSTONE, PA. : R. R. R. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. The Century ^^.0 Double-Feed Fountain Pen. ^^Poiated- GEO. EVELER, Agent for Gettysburg College PRICE LIST. .$2 SO . 2 50 No. 3. Chased 3 00 Hexag-on, Black or Mottled No. 3. Gold Mounted 4 00 Pearl Holder, Gold Mounted . 2 50 . S 00 THE CENTURY PEN CO. Askyour Stationer or our Agent to shozv them toyou WHITEWATER, WIS A good local agent-wanted in every school. ^mmwmmrmwmmwmwmwm^ Printing and Binding "We Print This Book THE MT. HOLLY STATIONERY AND PRINTING CO. does all classes of Printing' and Binding, and can furnish you any Book, Bill Head, Letter Head, Envelope, Card, Blank, or anything pertain-ing- to their business in just as good style and at less cost than you can obtain same elsewhere. They are located among the mountains but their work is metropolitan. You can be convinced of this if you give them the opportunity. Mt. Holly Stationery and Printing Co. K SPRINGS, PA. VL H. S. BENNER, .DEALER IN. Groceries, Notions, Queensware, Glassware, Etc., Tobacco and Cigars. Yl CHAMBERSBURG ST. WE RECOMMEND THESE BUSINESS MEN. Pitzer House, (Temperance) JNO. E. PITZER, Prop. Rates $1.00 to $1.25 per day. Battlefield a specialty. Dinner and ride to all points of interest,including the th ree days" fiffht, $1.25. No. 127 Main Street. MUMPER & BENDER Furniture Cabinet Making, Picture Frames Beds, Springs, Mattresses, Etc. Baltimore St., GETTYSBURG, PA. You will find a full line of Pure Drugs and Fine Sta- People's Drug Store Prescriptions a Specialty. .GO TO. fjotel (Gettysburg Barber Sfyop. Centre Square. B. M. SEFTON J. A. TAWNEY o. Is ready to furnish Clubs and Bread, Rolls, Etc. At short notice and reasonable rates. Washington & Midde Sts., Gettysburg. XWTT. TrJ. //dfe//>/l/d. C/)/Cd50. Sd/iftvnasco. London. PdnsJerf//?. Co/03ne. CALL ON F. Mark Bream, The Carlisle Street Grocer Who always has on hand a full line of Fine Groceries. .Photographer. No. 3 Main St., GETTYSBURG, PENNA. Our new effects in Portraiture are equal to photos made anywhere, and at any price PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. ^entpol Jfotel, ELIAS FISSEL, Prop. (Formerly of Globe Hotel) Baltimore Street, Gettysburg, Pa. Two doors from Court House. MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. Steam Heat, Electric Light and Call Bells all through the House. Closets and Bath Rooms on Every Floor. Sefton & Flem-ming's Livery is connected with this Hotel. Good Teams and Competent Guides for the Battlefield. Charges Moderate, Satisfaction Guaranteed. Rales $1.50 Per Day. R. A. WONDERS, Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, Etc. Scott's Corner, Opp. Eagle Hotel. GETTYSBURG, PA. L Try My Choice Line of .' £ High-Grade Chocolates 3 L, at 40c per lb. Always fresh at ,\ C CHAS. H. McCLEARY "j C Carlisle St., Opposite W. M. R. R. ^ Also Foreign and Domestic Fruits '(' Always on Hand. JOHN M. MINNIQH, Confectionery, lee, -andIee Creams. Oysters Stewed and Fried. No. 17 BALTIMORE ST. BARBER SHOP®® CHARLES C. SEFTON, Proprietor. .Baltimore Street. The place for Students to go. Only First-class Tonsorial Work. LIVERY ATTACHED. ESTABLISHED 1876 PENROSE MYERS, Watchmaker and Jeweler Gettysburg Souvenir Spoons, Col-lege Souvenir Spoons. NO. 10 BALTIMOE ST., GETTYSBURG, PENNA. HARRY B.AR010R, Chambersburg: Street, Gettysburg:, Pa. Electrical .and Bicycle Supplies Repair Work of Every Description.
GETTYSBURG "NEWf " PRINT. CATS 1 i '|pnm VIMBHimwiw IV/fl1 «'.!.# J tilT* VM :, HELP THOSE WHO HELP US. The Intereollejiate finreaa or Academic Eostume. Chartered 1902. Cottrell & Leonard Albany, N. Y. v»rywwvwwwvwvww^v Makers of Caps, Gowns, Hoods I? WANTED. > College students during their vacation can easily make $20 to $30 per week. Write for par-ticulars. THE UNIVERSAL MFG CO, Pittsburg, Pa. Come and Have a Good Shave. or HAIR-CUT at Harry B. Seta's New Tonsorial Parlors, 35 Baltimore St. BARBERS' SUPPLIES A SPECIALTY. Also, choice line of fine Cigars. Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company, A, L, Menbeck, AgEnt. COLLEGE. IF YOU CALL ON C. fl. Bloehei*, Jeuuelef, Centre Square, He can serve you in anything you may want in REPAIRING or JEWELRY. ■ ■WiiJAlJtl mJ\m I II: WJE RECOMMEND THESE FIRMS. The Pleased Customer is not kJ> SONGS OF ALL THE COLLEGES. frn Price, $1.jo, postpaid. m Oopji !«»'.n ^ HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers, New York City. W IT Schoolbeoks of all publishers at one store, ff^ff 2 XK- ^* 3.*= ^V =t*= =\* A* =Vt :\V **- *t m lEMIUJaMUBUUi nniHMn PATRONIZE OUR • ADVERTISERS. mm WE HAVE A COMPLETE LINE Of Novelties for the Fall Season, including Latest Suiting, Coating, Trousering and Vesting. Our Prices are Right. SPECIAL CARE TAKEN TO MAKE WORK STYLISH AND* EXACTLY TO YOUR ORDER. Cllill (XI. Seligman, Taiio*. 7 Chambecsbapg St., Gettysburg, Pa. R.A. WONDERS Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, etc. Scott's Corner, opp. Eagle Hotel GETTYSBURG, PA. Pool Parlors in Connection. D. J. Swartz Dealer in Country Produce Groceries Cigars and Tooacco GETTYSBURG. Established 1867 by A/Inn Walton. Allen K. Walton, Prea. and Treaa. Root. J. Walton, Superintendent. ItllQllStOWB BrowQ Stone ConpaDj, and Manufacturers of BUILDING STONE, SAWED FLAGGING, and TILE, WALTONVILLE, DAUFHIN COUNTY, PENNA. Contractors for all kinds of cut stone work. Telegraph and Express Address, BROWNSTONE, PA. 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PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and devel-op one of the church institutions with pecuniary advantage to yourself. Address H. S. BONER, Supt. 1 The CClevQUpy. The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. Vol. XIII. GETTYSBURG, PA., FEBRUARY, 1905. No. 8 CONTENTS 'WHERE PROVIDENCE PREVAILED," , . . 246 BY MISS HARRIET MCGILL, '06. THE NOVEL OF SENTIMENT,* 25.0 "IMBEM." THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE, . . . 259 BY H. F. SMITH, '07. RELIGION AND SOLITUDE, . 265 BY SAMUEL E. SMITH, '07. THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF A MILLIONAIRE,*' . . 268 "NOMEN." EDITORIALS, . • . 274 EXCHANGES, ". .276 ♦Contributed for Pea and Sword Prijze Essay Conteat. LiUlMUflMfti i \| 246 THE MERCURY. WHERE PROVIDENCE PREVAILED. Bv Miss HARRIET MCGIU., '06. THE woman waited; as in the lulls of the moaning, De-cember night wind, she heard the sound of sleigh bells mingled with the laughter of happy lovers, who sped swiftly by, she smiled, then gave a little sob, and smiled straight away again. "For what," she said, " if the waiting is long, one has always the past as a companion." Yes, "as a companion" and as such, Time had been kind to the woman. True, he had streaked the black hair with grey, and hardened the strong large hands with marks of toiling, but these things mattered little, for had he not left the great dark eyes undimmed? Just as twenty years ago, when they had look-ed frankly up into the face of the man whom their mistress call-ed ''husband," and smiling through their tears, spoke more plain-ly than any language the great word "courage," even so had they looked ever since into the face of Old Father Time, and looking smiled; no wonder then that he could not dim them. And the man : he also was waiting; the woman waited in a room bare and cheerless, the room of a servant in a great city, that of the man was equally bare and cheerless, it was the pris-on cell of one whom the world called "criminal." Now comes the strange part of our prelude, in the fact that neither of these people knew, how that for which they waited would come to them. Those who had placed the man in his present position, knew well how to make arrangements, by which his wife should not be permitted to see him. He was "in for life," and it was granted, even by the faithful few who remained true to the conviction of his innocence, that his case was hopeless. Yet throughout the twenty years, firmly, as upon the day of their parting, had these two believed in the hope of deliverance, and trusted, as it is the lot of few to trust. The night wind also sighed and moaned around a rude log cabin, that lay a tiny speck upon the broad stretches of the great western prairie. Lonely, sequestered, isolated, truly might ^HHHH THE MERCURY. 247 * * this humble home have been called the " Lodge of some vast wilderness," so far was it removed from the haunts of men, so little did its inhabitants know about the lives of their fellows, in the great outside world. ■ Here, upon this winter night of which we W rite, the good wife of the house, a plain, simple, country woman, who had, up to this time, lived her even, uneventful life, in a spirit of honest contentment, lay down to rest, worn with the day's work. This woman knew nothing of our convict or his wife, the story of the crime whose tragic consequences had involved him in ruin, and blasted the life of the girl whose eyes said "courage," had never even reached these humble prairie dwellers, and when Marie Cor-douy closed her eyes that night, she expected nothing but the "sleep of the just," the usual reward of her hard labor. Instead —well let us hear the story of her dream; she says, "I was there, and yet not there; for somehow I know that the girl I saw was alone, after she bade her sister good-bye, saying that she would go through the wood to the farm of a neighbor who lived about two miles away. I can see her now as she walked along, she was a pretty girl, with hair like gold, and eyes like the "bluets,". which grew all around her in the forest, as she walked among them barefoot, her shoes in her hand, for she took them off to save them, when she came to the wood. So she walked on for sometime until she came to a large rock that stood out on the bank of a stream, and here she sat down to rest, for the day was warm, and she tired. Suddenly two men crept out from the trees behind the girl. One was tall with a scar 0.11 bis face, he seem-ed to be middle aged, the other was smaller, and from his looks could have been a son of the first. Just as she sat there, with-out any thought of harm, those men rushed on the girl, and throttled her, then they carried the poor tiling, into the bed of the stream, and foully murdered her there, while the water washed away the signs of their bloody work. When it was done, they went back to the rock and tried to move it. At last they got space enough to dig a kind of a grave underneath, where they buried the girl, her shoes beside her, and the knives with which ■^^■HnuAfl-fi 248 THE MERCURY. they had stabbed her. When I saw them sneak away, through the trees, the horror of the thing awakened me." So great was this horror, that Marie awoke her husband, and told him of the dream, but, saying that it was nothing, told her to try to sleep once more. Yet again came the dream, as viv-idly as before, and then again, three times, did she have it be-fore morning came to deliver her. Still John Cordouy said that it contained no portent, and advised her to forget it, this how-ever was easier said than done, and from that nig*ht Marie was a changed woman. The dream never seemed to leave her mind, its weight oppressed her, and finding no sympathy in John, she yet persisted in telling her gruesome tale, not only to him, but to any chance traveller whom she could persuade to listen.— Finally, for the world is a small place, after all, the news of the dream reached the ears of the woman who waited. Teresa Jardain, wife of the supposed murderer, whose life imprisonment instead of death because of inability to find the body of the girl, had been secured by the man who accused him ; a man high in power, a tall man, with a scar on his face. .This man's son had once loved the dark eyed beauty of Teresa, who had refused his offer of marriage, and had afterwards been spurned by the girl, whose strange disappearance had so affect-ed the life of the Jardains, the neighbors, to whose farm she was last seen starting out. Now into Teresa's life, since her brave fight against the world began, had entered much wisdom ; it was as the " wisdom of the serpent," and with it she determined to save her husband, and see his face once more. As has been said, there were some few friends remaining who believed him innocent; to these men Teresa went, with the strange story of the dream, implor-ing their aid. At last this plan was agreed upon. Two of these men, who were fortunately wealthy and influential, went secretly to the prairie home of Cordouy, disguised as travellers. As usual Marie, eager for listeners, related the story of her dream, she seemed to find relief in telling it as often as possible. They then took Cordouy into their confidence, and proposed to him a trip through the East to the place where the tragedy occurred. BBlnflftFi THE MERCURY. 249 Marie would of course accompany them, and should she recog-nize the surroundings, identify the men, and find the body of the girl, the murderers might be forced into a revelation of the truth. In the meantime the story was to be kept secret so that they might be taken off their guard. Their plans were strangely successful, when Marie, in the course of their journey, reached the neighborhood where the murder took place, she seemed to grow more and more excited, at last she could stand it no longer, and told the others that this was the place of her dreams. Eagerly leading them into the wood, (a. strange place remember, where she had never been before,) she hurried on until she reached the rock by the streamlet, and began in her haste to dig away the earth beneath it, with her own hands. She was however persuaded to give place to work-men, who arrived with suitable tools, and soon dug from their resting place of twenty years or more, the skeleton of the girl, the knives and even the remainder of the shoes, which lay by themselves, near her head, showing that she had worn them. The story now spread far and wide, and the real murderers, fail-ing in an attempt to flee the country, confessed their guilt, and met the punishment which had been for so long a time delayed. The night winds no longer moaned around the prairie cabin, with a story of duty left undone, its sound bears rather comfort to the woman within, her mission is fulfilled, Marie Cordouy is satisfied. No longer does a captive, Paul Jardain, stretch im-ploring hands, behind his prison bars and implore it to bear the message of his innocence to the world. The weary watch of Teresa, the woman who waited, is over, for Providence worked a miracle with the passing of the night wind. [D1^B^HHHHHEthere are many novel readers who might express the bitterness -of their experience in the lines of Thompson— " Ah from real happiness we stray, By vice bewildered, vice which always leads However fair at first to wilds woe." Every man has a model for his life, an ideal, and how much -does a man's welfare depend on the ideal which is enshrined in ihis heart of hearts ! Any force which has the power of chang-ing ideals should be (both) helped and hindered in its opera-tion, aided that it may effect the greatest good and hindered Jest it accomplish the most of evil. Fiction has shaped ideals and it is moulding ideals today and in many cases this is being ■done with great injury to humanity. Too many of our novelists picture woman as an angel or a fiend. At one time they por-tray woman, as the flatterer, the seducer, the destroyer, and as-sociate her with such deadening villianies that she appears as .a veritable Medusa petrifying all that is noble in the nature of man; while at another time, under the spell of their pens she ■■■■■■■^■■■■H ■: , ' '\U- U --- v - -^ 256 THE MERCURY. stands forth as semi-divine a creature too wondrous for daily contact with the world. From a social standpoint, it is truly alarming to observe the opinions which are held by thousands-of the male sex concerning women, and not a few of these de-praved ideas can be traced to the popular novel. While wo-man can fall lower and can also attain greater heights than* man, yet the vast majority of women occupy a middle plane where virtue is a companion and the ordinary duties of life keep the angelic qualities in the background. It can safely be said that the average work of fiction is too radical in depicting the characters of women. Somewhat allied to the above topic is the illusive idea so-prominent in current fiction that it is an absolute fault to be commonplace. All real life is commonplace. It is a round of duty and service and only once in a great length of time does a man spring forth who rises above his fellows. Anything that derides the homely toil of the private citizen or makes men* dissatisfied with their station in life by infatuating them with visions of power selfishly attained, must be characterized as-pernicious, because it places false ideals before the eyes of men. There is also an influence at work today of the same nature,, that makes the securing of wealth the one thing for which men should strive, and many novels of the twentieth century are strongly imbued with this spirit. After an examination of many popular books, it is found in numerous instances that wealth is regarded as the greatest thing in the world. This is-not done in a direct way, but is brought by a hint here and a* suggestion there, benumbing reason and calling into action all that is sordid in the soul of man. Thus there are novels which speak of millions with an air of studied carelessness, while others recount the struggles of a hero who begins life as a poor boy and finally becomes the possessor of hundreds of thousands and even millions. Such ideas held out before the young peo-ple of today are most harmful. While wealth is- desirable, it is of secondary importance. It does not bring character nor happiness to its possessor, and is often a hindrance to noble endeavor. How refreshing it is when some novelist deigns to> m WIUHMWJIlllWi THE MERCURY. 257 give to the public a story of the poor, of people in ordinary-circumstances, showing to mankind that riches are not the passport to happiness. Let our writers take Thackeray for their pattern. That the ideals in our current literature may be truer and nobler, let our talented authors acknowledge Dickens their patron saint and tell to humanity the strange story of the toil-ing world. When the character of the novel of sentiment has been re-viewed, the mind naturally becomes alert to observe the effects of reading popular fiction. The results are only obvious when, after the reading of books, an investigation is made among one's friends, and every man looks into his own soul, with a view of discerning their exact measure ot influence. Many surprises await one making such an investigation, but probably the most astonishing is the fact that the opinion of many people can be known if one is familiar with the last book which they have read. In other words, too many men and women accept the statements of books without applying the test of common sense and reason. Thus, through the frailty of humanity, the novel of sentiment is efficacious for much of good and evil. The greatest fault, perhaps, of the twentieth century novel is the depraved condition of the mind which it produces. By its stimulating power the novel gives an unnatural tone to the mind and brings it into such a condition that there can be no true appreciation for the more noble works of literature. The public libraries and the ones in many colleges testify to the pre-vailing order of affairs, since it is stated on good authority that nine-tenths of all the books which are taken from their shelves are fiction. A doctor of divinity of the Presbyterian Church confessed not long ago, that while he was visiting a neighbor-ing minister and helping to conduct evangelistic services, he found a set of historical novels in the library of his friend, and having become interested, he did not rest until he had read the entire series. " During that week," he said, " I read three of those novels and I had such a feverish interest in them that I purchased the entire set as soon as I returned home." In- 258 THE MERCURY. stances of such fascination are numerous among all classes, and they are destructive to true mental development. Again, the novel of sentiment, within whose pages vice and unnatural affections are so vividly portrayed, debases ten while it is helpful to one. By many it is argued that the immoral book is the most severely moral because it shows to the reader the blackness of evil. This is a fallacy which has always been urged concerning sin; it is the siren voice of the tempter. Such arguments have destroyed the virtues of a multitude. How shall their falsity be shown ? The philosophy of the poet in the lines so frequently quoted reveals the truth— " Vice is a monster of such frightful mien, As to be hated, needs but to be seen ; But seen too oft—familiar grows her face, We first endure; then pity ; then embrace." Throughout the body of this essay a spirit of criticism has been manifested toward the novel of of the last twenty years. In view of the facts such criticism is needed. But praise should be given to authors like Ralph Connor, who has written books with a definite purpose. However, it is very difficult to select really good novels from the great mass of fiction. An inquiry, with the purpose of obtaining a basis for the discrimination be-tween the good and bad in fiction, makes a most fitting con-clusion to our observations on this subject. Under what cir-cumstances is the novel of sentiment a safe agent ? Only when some noble purpose fires the writer; only when the author has some real message for humanity in his book. Sentiment con-nected with the fickle things of life becomes a demoralizing power. The average novel is dangerous from its lack of prin-ciple and purpose. Thus it must be said that this lack of prin-ciple in most of our sentimental novels characterizes them as unfit for a place in our libraries. THE MERCURY. 259 THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE. BY. H. F. SMITH, '07. ■** their greatness to the long struggle between France and England," says Thiers in his History of the Consulate and Empire, in speaking of the sale of Louisiana by Bonaparte to the United States. This statement contains two views in them-selves somewhat debatable: First, Whether the United States is indebted for its birth to France. Some think in all proba-bility we would have gained our independence without the aid of France. This could be so and yet the indebtedness not be lessened, for France did help us by the revival of spirits and by material means in the battle of Yorktown. Second, that we are indebted for our greatness to the long struggle between France and England, and not so much to ourselves, we shall en-deavor to establish. In so doing let us look at matters from the French side instead of the American side, and it is proper to do this, since it came to us through French statesmanship with little agency of our own. ' Except the Floridas, the thirteen original colonies with their western claims extended to the Mississippi. Colonization was for France a question of life or death. The French were es-pecially active in this line. As colonizers they far exceeded the English in brilliancy. They were more energetic, persis-tent and courageous; but when an eminent Frenchman had achieved anything great, he was so v?in or ambitious as to wish no other Frenchman to share his glory and would even in some cases war against a rival; furthermore he was not sus-tained by the home government. But the primary cause of lack of results was internal dissention, a constant warring among themselves. Had the energy which they directed toward one another been applied to the obstacles to be overcome, " they would have been consumed as a pathway through the Alps was eaten by the vinegar of Hannibal." The noble Champlain, the indefatigable La Salle, Cartier, Jberville, and Bienville, all figured in the establishment of set- 26o THE MERCURY. tlements in Louisiana. Men were kidnapped and sent over by the thousands. Women became so scarce that cargoes of marriageable girls, filles a la cassette, so-called from the little trunks in which each prospective bride carried the trosseau pro-vided for her by the government, were sent over and on arrival at the levee, were speedily and happily mated. But in a series of wars culminating in the defeat of Montcalm by Pitt and Wolfe combined, all of what were before known as the Colonies Western Claims, were lost and France had only New Orleans and the unexplored area west of the Mississippi. On account of these misfortunes France thought it best to-give up her scheme of colonization and develop home interests. So, desiring an ally in her weakness, she secretly ceded Louis-iana to Spain. This treaty was long kept secret and was much lamented. When the news was broken to the Creoles, the con-sternation was similar to that of the Acadians when they were entrapped. This stripping of France of her American posses-sions created a craving for revenge which was fully satisfied when she helped to tear the thirteen colonies from England, The Louisiana subjects remained true to the French in their hearts, although Spain ruled them generously. Napoleon now became almost absolute ruler with the title of First Consul. He had marvelous schemes of colonization and immediately set about to regain Louisiana. Godoy, who was the power behind the throne in Spain, fearing a probable attack by England, negotiated a treaty very advantageous to us, satis-factorily establishing boundaries, and the " right of deposit " at New Orleans. But when Spain became hopelessly dependent on France, Godoy resigned in despair. A treaty was then negotiated with Berthier, Bonaparte's agent, by which France was to have Louisiana and also the two Floridas while Spain was to have a kingdom of at least one million subjects taken from the French conquests in the northern half of Italy, over which was to be set the Duke of Parma, husband of the infanta, the daughter of Carlos IV. This treaty was negotiated Oct. I, 1800, and was considered by Mr. Adams the source of our title to Louisiana. The king of Spain did ■■nCMBlnMIMrlBwHtHMHMMIIl THE MERCURY. 26 r not as yet sign the treaty. All subsequent treaties were but modifications of this. After some time Napoleon sent his brother Lucien to Madrid to finish the treaty, but he did not succeed in obtaining the king's signature because Godoy who was recalled to power suc-ceeded in bribing him and thus baffling Napoleon. France then prepared to take Louisiana by force and would probably have succeeded if the San Domingo Revolution had not occur-red and blocked all the schemes. But on Oct. 15, 1802, Na-poleon through his agent secured the king's signature but only under most exacting conditions. The United States now comes upon the scene. A new Presi-dent, Jefferson, sat in the presidential chair. " Peace is our passion," was one of his favorite sayings. When it became known that France was dealing secretly with Spain for the retrocession of Louisiana, the West and South, who hated the Spaniards, became wild lest the French getting New Orleans would close the lower Mississippi to commerce and thus ruin them. Accordingly a new minister,' Robert R. Livingston, was sent by us in August, 1801. He was set against the supercilious, deceitful, and arch dissimulator, Talleyrand, who denied every-thing, with some truth, for as yet the king of Spain had not given his signature. But we received definite information from our minister in England. Jefferson thought that trouble was imminent. In 1802 Morales, the civil officer of New Orleans, abrogated the right of deposit, closing absolutely the Mississippi to the United States. This right had been enjoyed since the treaty of 1795. By that treaty it was to last for three years; but at the end of that time, the right was suffered to continue. Now that the right was taken away, the alarm in the West made war seem inevitable. But matters were somewhat calmed by the Spanish minister at Washington and the Governor of Louisiana disclaiming the action of Morales. Jefferson now hit upon a scheme to allay the turbulent ill-humor of the settlers; but in this plan he 262 THE MERCURY. builded far wiser than he knew. He sent a special envoyv James Monroe, to buy outright New Orleans and Florida, with #2,000,000 in hand. The French envoy at this point used his influence to get Napoleon to do away with the interdict of Morales. Monroe had definite instructions : I. He was to purchase, if possible, New Orleans and the Floridas, and he might expend up to #10,000,000 rather than lose the chance. 2. Should France refuse to sell even the site for a town, the old right of deposit as granted in 1795 was to be tried for. Should that fail, further instructions were to be awaited. Jefferson was de-termined to have peace, and showed great moral courage and strength of character in maintaining so steadfastly, in that war-like age, his noble attitude. But if Napoleon would not have wanted to sell Louisiana, no statesmanship or money on our part could have bought it. After they had first sold it to Spain, there was nothing but re-gret, which was not satisfied until negotiations for its retroces-sion were begun. We have seen with what zeal these were pushed. Now that it was in his grasp again could anything tear it from him ? We have said that Napoleon had marvellous schemes of col-onization. The building of a New France in Louisiana was one of them. But his plans were doomed to failure. His own campaign in Egypt and the project for the great invasion of India by Massena had first come to naught; now his schemes in the Occident were meeting with disaster. In San Domingo,, general and army had perished under the weapons of the blacks and the stroke of pestilence. The gloom of a mighty European struggle was ominously looming up on the national horizon. At this time occurred the incident in the drawing room of Josephine, when Napoleon, without any ceremony,, went up to the British ambassador and after an insulting con-versation said that he would have Malta or war. Joseph, Napoleon's other brother, first became apprised of Napoleon's intentions and then informed Lucien. Their cha-grin and astonishment were unequaled. Napoleon had deter- ' Pe.2±fj:#uvaiatf#IHwlBIMR^KHAB[lafl THE MERCURY. 263 mined to get funds to carry on his war with England, to dis-pose of the whole of Louisiana, quite independently of any de-sires or wishes on our part. We see now, as we said in the beginning, our acquisition of Louisiana, and hence our great-ness, depends on the- long struggle between England and France. Napoleon had determined to do this without in the least consulting the Chambers or people of France. In so doing he was risking exile or even his life. His brothers, therefore, were greatly concerned and determined to prevent him from doing this. They formed a plan by which Lucien was to see Napoleon first, and if possible break the ice or lead the conver-sation to Louisiana, and then Joseph was to appear; in this way Napoleon would not suspect their collusion. Lucien found Napoleon in his perfumed bath. He tried to broach the Loui-siana topic, but Napoleon always talked about something else. Finally it was time for Napoleon to leave his bath and they had not reached the Louisiana subject. At this point Joseph knocked for admittance. Napoleon said he would stay in his bath a quarter of an hour longer and had him admitted. Lu-cien whispered to him that he had not yet broached the sub-ject. A stormy interview followed, only Napoleon's shaggy locks and gleaming eyes were above water. Their tones reached a very excited pitch and Joseph rushed at Napoleon. And here occurred the wonderful bath-room incident. Napoleon was so angered that he raised himself from the water and then suddenly fell back, giving Joseph a good ducking. Lucien then followed with a quotation from the Aeneid, which drew the electricity from the cloud and discharged it harmlessly. Then when Joseph had withdrawn, followed an almost equally stormy interview with Lucien. But this only hastened the matter, Na-poleon being anxious to commence his war with England. Words cannot describe the labor and extent oi the work which Livingston accomplished. He won the admiration and respect of Napoleon and Talleyrand. One of his duties was to obtain payment of the spoiliation claims. He wrote a series of papers elaborately setting forth the expediency for France to 264 THE MERCURY. dispose of New Orleans and the Floridas to us. These, per-haps, won him the respect of Napoleon. Far in advance of other statesmen he even showed that it would be best for France to sell us that part of Louisiana north of the Arkansas River, which turned out to be the best part of the bargain, in order to separate Canada or the British'from her province. Then, too, he had to deal with Napoleon, who would accept no counsel, and the wily Talleyrand. Furthermore, he did not have very definite instructions. But, as said in the beginning, we would never have gotten Louisiana by any efforts of Livingston or anybody else, had not Napoleon desired to dispose of it. Now when Livingston had all but accomplished his task, Napoleon offered the whole of Louisiana, and Monroe came in over Livingston. Napoleon had another object in selling Louisiana. If he should retain it, England might, through her all-powerful navy, wrest it from him ; while .in selling it to America, he would make a power which one day would humble England. Marbois, the French agent, and Livingston and Monroe were on very friendly terms, which greatly facilitated matters. Of course our commissioners never dreamed of the whole of Lou-isiana, but Livingston agreed to take it, and three treaties were made: 1. As to the cession; 2. As to the price, and 3. As to the spoiliation claims. It cost us #1 5,000,000, minus the spoli-ation claims. As Jefferson was a strict constructionist, he really overstepped his power in his own opinion. A storm of opposition arose which was gradually overcome. We have not time to discuss this opposition or the results, but will merely state a few of the results: (l) it secured to us the port of New Orleans, the entire control of the Mississippi, and it doubled the area of the United States ; (2) it strengthened the bond of Union in the Southwest; (3) it gave new force to arguments for internal improvements; (4) finally, it weakened strict con-struction and encouraged the interpretation of the Constitution according to the spirit and not the letter. - THE MERCURV. 265 RELIGION AND SOLITUDE. SAMUBI. E. SMITH, '07. WHEN these terms are considered in the sense in which they are ordinarily used, there seems to be a certain impropriety in using them together. The average man thinks of religion as something tangible. Not infrequently is the re-mark made concerning someone that he has very little religion; •which statement would point to the fact that religion is often considered as a kind of veneer, which can be placed over the lives of men for the instruction and helping of those about them. How then can solitude, which implies a separation from men have any relation to religion ? The preceding idea of religion is a very superficial one, although it is widely accepted. Religion has a deeper significance ; it is as its root meaning implies "a thinking again;" it is potential rather than kinetic •energy; it is z;«planted and never /m«jplanted into an indi-vidual. Such is the quality that is to be considered in connec-tion with solitude. All religions have had their origin in solitude. Ab'ram was sent by God into the eastern wilderness ; Moses was alone with Jehovah on Sinai; David had much time for reflection while tending his flock; the prophets were children of the desert; John Baptist was a son of the wilderness; and the Saviour of the world had his forty days, and very often during his active ministry he felt the loneliness of the midnight hour. Thus, in •solitude, there sprang forth from the souls of these men the principles which are the foundation stones of Christianity. Mohammedanism had its beginning in a cave a few miles from Mecca. Mohammed left the busy city and retired to that lonely spot for days at a time. He said that it was there the angel Gabriel appeared to him and told him of heavenly things which he should make known to his fellow-men. The new faith spread over many a mile of sea and land until it reached the rock of Gibraltar, and the Moslem hordes were dreaded in the great cities of Europe. Such was the power of the religion which was conceived of in the lonely cave near Mecca. As 266 THE MERCURY. the beginnings of great religions are studied it is found that all burst forth in solitude. Solitude has been the conserving force of every religion. The lonely vigil, the contemplations on divine things, has done more than the preacher and sword in keeping alive the great religions of the world. The monk in his gloomy cell, who-spent almost countless hours in meditation and fervent devotion,, gave the impetus which made the Roman Church the mighty agent which it has been. Even the savage races of mankinJ can be called upon to furnish examples. Without a doubt the crude religion of the American Indian was kept up by the in-fluence of solitude. In his solitary journey through the forest he saw his religions in the rocks and trees and streams. Where the Indians were deprived of their solitude by the advent of the white man, almost immediately they lost their faith in the Great Spirit. Christianity, today, shows the relation between" religion and solitude. The greatest preachers are those who-spend the most time apart from the rush of the world; the most truly religious are those who have spent many an hour in solitude. When the lives of the great ministers of our country-are considered, it is found that nearly all of them were brought up in the country, where the youth is compelled to spend a great portion of his time with nothing to keep him company but the voices of nature. Indeed, it can be said that every re-ligion enjoins its devotees to spend a part of each day in soli-tude. -Thus religion and solitude are very closely'related, and one is inclined to speculate as to the grounds on which this relation) exists. There must be solitude before religion can manifest itself. To understand how this can be true it is imperative that religion should be defined with the greatest precision. Al-ready it has been shown that it is not a tangible thing. But the definition must not stop with this statement. Religion is intuitive; it is a divine essence rising up in the sub-conscious-mind ; it is a spark which shows unmistakably that man is in-deed a son of the Infinite. Thus the religious impulse of the lowest savage is just as strong as is the desire of the civilized 1.1,. ,11. THE MERCURY. 267 man to worship a supreme being. Religion, lying as it does in the sub-conscious mind of man, how can it manifest itself unless there is solitude during which it can lise up? But this spark of the Infinite, religion, which abides in the darkest chamber of the soul, is a peculiar thing. If it is continually-forced back by the authority of the conscious mind, it at length goes out forever, and man is left destitute of the greatest power of his existence. Such a state of affairs does not often come to pass, but it can happen. But how can one conceive of this infinite spark as perishing? It is merely a small part of the great Infinity, which may have a million finite parts lost, as it were by atrophy, and yet remain the same. If, on the other hand, the divine spark is allowed to rise into the conscious mind, it fires the imagination and intensifies every purpose of the man. In the light of this reasoning one can easily see that solitude is of vital importance to religion. Thus, as religion is considered in its true nature, it is seen that religion and solitude are supplementary to each other. Re-ligions have sprung forth in solitude and have been kept alive through its influence. To those accepting the superficial view of religion, many ot the inner workings are inexplicable. For example, they cannot account for the fact that many a man turns to religion on a sick bed, or when he is suddenly removed from the walks of men into the solitude of a wilderness. But those who appreciate its hidden meaning understand that such conduct is due to the divine element which has sprung up dur-ing the solitary hours. Such is the relation of these two terms made plain, which seem at the first glance to be so foreign to each other. 268 THE MERCURY. THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF A MILLIONAIRE. [Contributed for the Pen and Sword Ptize Essay contest.'] WHEN Columbus discovered this new world, he little knew that he was opening to the known world the greatest discovery of that or any other age. When three centur-ies later George Washington fought for the freedom of the colonies and, having succeeded in that, helped organize and guide the thirteen colonies on the road of progress, even he with his almost prophetic insight could not foresee what a won-derful future was in store for them. Now this lusty young giant stands with his feet firmly planted on the Isthmus of Panama, his bulk reaching from Ocean to Ocean, from Canada to the Gulf, a hand reached eastward in the Philippines, another extending into the frozen north, Alaska. Covered with farms and forests, factories and cities, honeycombed with mines, bound in the bonds of fraternal friendship by almost two hundred thousand miles of railroad, inhabited by a people the most pro-gressive and civilized of any living; is it any wonder that with all these advantages, natural and artificial, he has rapidly forged to the front in riches also. The natural advantages sur-pass those of all Europe. Now in the midst of this amazing national growth there has been a wonderful growth in private riches. When the country was young and poor the people were also poor. With the rapid settling of the West, the opening of coal and iron mines, the invention of the locomotive and the steamboat, the wealth of individuals rapidly increased. Yet up until the Civil War huge private fortunes might be counted on the fingers of one hand. But after the Civil War begins the period of inventive and industrial advancement, the age of the millionaire. Now a millionaire is a man who by inheritance, in-dustry and economy or by other means too numerous to men-tion, has become possessed of a million dollars or its equivalent. He may have come by this sum honestly or dishonestly but it is the responsibility which comes with this sum of money of which we will take notice. iPIMMIfBm^MW THE MERCURY. 269 Let us take the millionaire from boyhood. He is probably no brighter, no different in outside appearance than the average run of boys, yet by saving a dollar where the other man spends two, by judicious investment where money will the most surely and rapidly increase, these by the time he has reached manhood have made him a comparatively wealthy man. Of course no matter what his morals, his ability to earn money has been held up as a model to other struggling youths, his past has been re-hearsed by the Oldest Inhabitant, boyhood chums are proud to call him by name, so by his example many are willing to jise or fall. Here his responsibility as a moral factor begins. All the while his fortune is increasing until some day when he "takes stock" he finds he is a millionaire. If he is not vastly different from the majority of us, he begins to get a little more exclusive and distant. His old acquaintances gradually fall away and he seeks new friendships among men of his own business standing. If he is selfmade there are no doubt a few rough corners to be smoothed down and polished up in order that he may not appear at a disadvantage among his fellows. This process is usually one of marriage. All this time he is looming larger and larger in the public eye and more and more do newspapers devote space to his goings and comings. Indeed he has no privacy, his every act is under the scrutiny of a lynx eyed public. Now let us glance at a few calamities for which the million-aires of this country may be justly held responsible. There was a time when ability was the measure of success. The time also was when thrift was considered a virtue. Once our poli-tics were pure and uncorrupted. Equality between men as spoken of in the Constitution was not a joke. Honesty in business was a maxim. Human life was regarded as precious not many decades since. Divorce was synonymous with dis-grace. In a word the American people have seen the day when virtue, not money, was the goal of every honest man's ambition. Now all this is changed. Why ? Who are respon-sible for the change? When men like Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Seward, Lincoln, , I : , 27o THE MERCURY. Douglass and others thundered in our legislative halls, there was no thought of their money. The taste of the people had not been debauched by a bribed press, which by skillfully ad-vertising the merits of their customer and belittling the ability of his opponent render it almost impossible for a poor man to secure high office. For example look at our Senate. No men of tremendous personality and ability sit in seats made famous by their predecessors. No orators arise and hold their hearers spellbound by the power of their oratory. No indeed. Instead there sit in our once glorious Senate a body of men whose money has been the open sesame to halls to which their brains would have been found an insurmountable barrier. This ignoble condition is laid at the doors of the millionaires. Again, what has changed a people from a race thrifty and economical, always striving (and usually succeeding) to live within their income, into a people rushing, with a frenzy that amounts to madness almost, in pursuit of the Almighty Dollar? Isn't it the extravagance of the rich from whom the people model their deportment? Million-dollar homes, yachts, autos, balls, operas and the like have such an irresistible attraction for the majority ot people that it is only a man of the most in-flexible will power who can live his life undisturbed by the glitter of much gold. So overwhelming is the desire to possess the fixtures enumerated above that men throw all virtues and vices aside, in order-to secure them. Robbery, embezzlement, fraud and even murder are the agents used in extreme cases. The ostentation of the millionaire is responsible for this. In the magazines of the past year there have been a number of articles pro and con as to whether we have an American Aristocracy. Our Constitution says all men are created free and equal and for almost one hundred years this doctrine was held sacred and we prospered. But with the coming of the millionaire all that was changed. Believing that because they owned more valuable real estate and more gilt-edged bonds than their poor neighbor, they were of superior clay, our mil-lionaires began to ape the degenerate though genteel aristo-cracy of Europe. And those who have occasion and oppor- THE MERCURY. 271 tunity to observe say that they have aped not too wisely but too well. Forgetting that a cad is not a gentleman, that cul-ture, education and brains, not money, give grace and elegance in speech and deportment, some of our would be Aristocrats pose and strut with an affectation of superiority that would be insufferable, were it not so ridiculous. So many owners of >much money gladly take the responsibility for opening the breach of class between man and man. Joseph Folk, swept into the Governor's Chair by a tidal wave ■of reform votes, reached his position by the conviction of bood-lers in the city of St. Louis. When Folk began his now famous •investigation, whom did he find were the bribers, lawbreakers and corruptors of public morality ? They were rich men, the ■financial backbone of St. Louis. It is the same everywhere. The wealthy, the millionaires, have bought outright whole ■city councils, legislatures, judges and have even carried their infamous designs into the nation's lawmakers themselves. In-deed the venal character of our judges have caused the poor to give up all hope of justice when combatted by a man of wealth. And in business men eminently respectable, men above re-proach, lend their names and influence to schemes which, if attempted by an ordinary gold-brick speculator or bunco steerer, would result in that worthy rusticating behind the bars of some penal institution. But because there are millions in it, it is considered high finance to unload Lake Superior, U. S. Ship-building, Amalgamated Copper and Bay State Gas, on a public dazzled by the prospect of sure dividends which never come; and rendered trustful by an eminently respectable directorate. Year by year the man of the monster death has been feeding thousands of victims through the negligence and greed of corpor-ations. This number has increased so rapidly that the President thought it worthy of mention in his last message to Congress. It was high time; men in mills have been burned, maimed, crushed, torn and mutilated; either because the price of their work was so low that they had to constantly work under the •shadow of violent death, or because the owner, squeezing every last cent, refused to place safeguards around death-traps. So : 272 THE MERCURY. long as a mill, railroad or factory pays dividends, what matters it how many poor wretches are ground to fragments, providing: their death does not entail any extra expense on the firm P This criminal disregard of human life does not confine itself to-a purely impersonal matter like a mill or factory. It takes a form of amusement when reckless men crazed with the mad-ness of much money hurl giant automobiles through crowded city streets, at express-train speed. The desire to make a dol-lar was never better illustrated than in the case of a Western) railroad which, by removing a switch-light to save the oilr caused a wreck which hurled scores of human beings into eter-nity. Last but not least, look at the responsibility which million-aires bear to the gravest danger which threatens us at the pres-ent day. We will consider divorce, because the divorce evil1 had its inception among the moneyed class in this country. The home is the bulwark of all lands and all peoples. Where the home is sacred there courage, fidelity and all kindred vir-tues flourish. There also are found the brightest ideals. Ir* this country in the last ten years there has been a flood of divorces so overwhelming that almost all churches have taken* steps to check the evil. On the most trifling charges the bondr which should bind men and women for life, has been rudely snapped asunder, and all over the land we see the distressing; sight of homes desolated and families scattered. Beyond any doubt the millionaires must be held accountable for this. In> New York the so called Four Hundred has more divorces to-the square inch than any similar body of people in this country. Since New York sets the fashions and the rest of the country sheepishly follows, this fashion soon became the reigning fad" in Smart (?) Sets. Other States anxious to keep in the proces-sion enacted lax divorce laws until South Dakota made six-months residence equivalent to divorce. This is the greatest responsibility which rests on the shoulders of our millionaires. Now for a summing up of the misdeeds for which our moneyed men must some day suffer. Overlooking the fact that in our belief no man is fit for heaven who selfishly spends- .MM _ . THE MERCURV. 273 forty thousand dollars a year on himself, what have millionaires individually and collectively done ? They have corrupted our politics, made bare money the criterion of success, destroyed the desire for thrift and economy by lavish expenditure, en-couraged dishonesty directly and indirectly, made a joke of equality between man and man, have made divorce so common that it excites almost no comment, have encouraged race sui-cide and have by gifts of money, dishonestly earned, pauperized ■a portion of our people. They have lowered the ideals which made this republic possible. In a word, if the people have not degenerated under the paralyzing influence of huge fortunes, it is because the heart of the people beats time, in spite of all inducements to the contrary. If they have degenerated it is because of the examples cited above. And weighing all these facts, taking into consideration the good done by much money, we are led to believe, half unwillingly, that it would have been better to have held fast to the conservative principles which ruled in the days of our grand-fathers. A more contented, happy people we should certainly be in place of a nation of vulgar money-grabbers. We would not, of course, have been a world power, with a navy to sweep the seas; but we would have been more respected and feared than we are now. And last and most important, we would have been consistent to the high ideals of which we gave promise in our National Youth. But it is done, our course is changed, time alone can tell what the future has in store for us. As a body our millionaires have much to answer for. Yet setting our faces to the right, let us all in a simple, unassuming way do what destiny has marked for us and all will yet be well with the grandest republic on «arth. ■■■■■■Hi THE MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class Matter VOL. XIII GETTYSBURG, PA., FEBRUARY, 1905 No. 8 Editor-in-chief C. EDWIN BUTLER, '05 Exchange Editor CHARLES GAUGER, '05 Business Manager A. L. DILLENBECK, '05 Asst. Business Manager JOHN M. VAN DOREN, '06 Associate Editors H. C. BRILLHART, '06 ALBERT BILLHEIMER, '06 H. BRUA CAMPBELL, '06 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, LITT.D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D.D. Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription price, one dollar a year in advance; single copies 15 cents. Notice to discontinue sending the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Busi-ness Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. How swiftly the months pass ! One after another in endless succession they come and go, yea even with this issue the MERCURY adds another year to its history and closes forever the pages of another volume. If it has been any improvement over its predecessor, if it records with any reasonable precision the literary attainments of the student body, and if it is worthy of preservation in the archives of the College, then our labor has not been bought without a price and the high mark, to which we have been endeavoring to approach, has not been entirely missed. As the last line and the last word is written and the time for our departure is come, we go, but not until our faithful contri-butors, our patrons and loyal friends, than which there are none more loyal, are assured of our sincere gratitude and apprecia-tion. THE MERCURY. I 275 Without you our existence would have been impossible, with you the most happy relation has been enjoyed. If we have merited commendation the glory is to you, if censure, we are the chief offenders, and by the much importunity we invite all criticism to be placed to our credit. We bequeath not un-willingly to the associate and assistant staff a very generous portion of this rich legacy—if it may not improperly be so termed. That the termination of the close relation as a staff and as friends of the staff has inevitably come we regret but at the same time remember the sweet incense which the memory of the past year will send so often floating through our minds. This alone is reward enough and for our efforts a princely re-compense. Not even the trained minds of philosophers would be able to divine the origination of the .mysterious ideas and current rumors which are frequently promulgated without authority or xredence. For the benefit of those who may not know it, we announce that a few philosophic prodigies have been secured and are really matriculated with the student body, though the MERCURY has been unfortunate enough not to have had the honor to publish any of their esoteric cogitations, and even they would not perhaps venture a solution. The hypothesis nevertheless is agitated and really believed by some that the MERCURY will cease to be the organ of the College Literary Societies ; will cease to be a medium for the publication of the Literature of merit in the College; will cease to print the different prize essays and preserve them for future reference; in fine will cease to exist after this issue. We have said, just where such incongruous fancies first originated seems to be somewhat of a mystery. The claims are unfounded from the start but from some inexplicable cause they have seized many of the students. As our college publica-tions, unfortunately, are wholly student papers their existence of course depends on the pleasure of said body. The position we presume to maintain with regard to the continuance, dis-continuance or uniting with our weekly we will not define here 276 THE MERCURY. for obvious reasons. The decision of such a grave problem should receive the careful, thoughtful and deliberate attention of the members of our literary societies. In any event the staff deems it advisible to lay down here the present status of affairs for the benefit of those who are in-tensely interested and not now of the student body. Financially the Journal is by no means embarrassed. If there be an en-cumbrance at all, it will be insignificant. Generally a surplus over and above current expenses has been handed down from manager to manager, if this indicates anything. Relerring to the numbers of the magazine now on file, this volume is not believed to be inferior to its antecedents, yet we are not pre-sumptuous enough to flatter ourselves with its superiority. Who have "fought and bled" for it in the years past have writ-ten us very encouraging letters which have been voluntary contributions on their part. Generally speaking, we do know the students of the College have not supported the magazine by liberal literary contribu-tions but we believe since many other interests which formerly slumbered are now throbbing with life and activity, the MER-CURY will also within a comparatively short time receive its due apportionment of interest and enthusiasm. EXCHANGES. With this issue of THE MERCURY the "Ex-man's" qurll will be handed down to his successor. We desire to take this our last opportunity to extend our farewell greeting to all of our exchanges. Realizing that criticism, to be essential to good work, must be both appreciative and corrective, it need not necessarily be PERFECT criticism—we have endeavored to make this the cri-terion for our criticisms. If we have given offense by any un-just remarks, we ask pardon; if not and you have profited by our suggestions, give us the praise. If we have praised you and done it honestly, yours is the satisfaction, ours is the ap-preciation. In either case, believe us to have done it in a kindly spirit of helpfulness. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. FURNITURE Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames. Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. * Telephone No. 97. I3C. 23. H3en.a.er 37 Baltimore St., Gettysburg, Pa. THE STEWART & STEEN CO. College Engravers cund (Printers 1034 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. 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