VOL. XXXII. NIAGARA UNIVERSITY, N. Y., DECEMBER 15, 1899. Severus and Caracalla. Tent Scene. York, England. After Attempted Parricide. A. D. 210. (Continued.) Sever. Because thy father's hand withholds the And trembles in the presence of his son. This tongue of mine, that faltered not when Death So hated by thy legions and thy son; Thy legs have grown too weak to hold thy frame; A helping staff to thine old age, that so, Sever. Gods of my Empire! have I nourished him. And nurture him with venom; 'tis thy brood, Sever. Then shall I tear this image from my soul, Carac. Thy son and thy first heir; so reads the Resign to me the heavy burden now. It bears thee down; thou art too old to rule; No. 6. That ev'ry knave may sport with it, as tho' plain, Thy words have reached me, and like winds have gone Sever. Behold a stalk unblighted at the top, (To be continued.) [C. moves. G. The Story of the "Merchant of Venice." HE "thousand-souled" bard of Avon has long since had his surfeit of praise and adulation. Additional encomiums are well-nigh an impossibility. Other poets of the immortal school have been compelled to rest the security of their fame on rarely more than one universally acknowledged epithet. But with Shakespeare it is different. His titles are as numerous as his abilities were various, and are as well deserved as his genius was thorough. He lives with his works, and his works will die but with the language, and, dying, will leave behind them a memory perishable only with time. Of Shakespeare's plays, one especially has of late years received more than ever absorbing attention. Not so much, however, the play, as the manner of its production. Since its celebrated presentation a few years since by Mr. Irving and Miss Terry it has been considered almost akin to a sacrilege for any lesser Sever. More fit to sting. Thou didst but say the genius to number it in his repertoire. Few, indeed, word That tears me here the while. Know that this crown have attempted it. When, therefore, some time back, America's leading actress essayed its production, there was havoc among the dramatic critics-a gasp of incredulity and a flurried, desperate sharpening of pencils. Great, indeed, one may say, must be the veneration for a drama which associates with it so much of sacredness. And truly great it is. The "Merchant of Venice" is pre-eminently the forget-me-not poesy in Shakespeare's bouquet of comedies. But let The Niagara Index. Entered at Niagara University P. O. as second-class matter. Published Semi-Monthly by the Students of Niagara University. Subscription $1.75 per year; single copies, 10c. Address THE NIAGARA INDEX, Niagara University P. O., N. Y. DECEMBER 15, 1899. A TRIBUTE-FATHER KAVANAGH. Written by Rev. J. J. Gleason, '83, on the occasion of the Index Silver Jubilee. I dreamt a dream in the sanctum, The lights are out 'round the campus; There's a light in the chapel yonder, 'Tis the light 'fore the altar's throne: There's a form there kneeling before it, Wrapt with his God-and alone. There's a bird-of the Indies begottenIt gives out its life for its young; So the form we see in the shadow Midnight anthems for pupils hath sung. A giant who towers high aloft So radiant as seemed his then. Manly and courteous and saintly— Our boyhood's and youth's dearest friend— Could aught in this wide world tear him From our hearts? May the saints forfend ! In the twilight I stand before him, And make plea of a boyhood's ruse ; A man of men, None else was seen So grandly noble In INDEX dream From sainted Lynch As peerless, manly Kavanagh, VERY REV. P. V. KAVANAGH, C. M. And mourn you for him; let him be regarded -Coriolanus, Act V., Scene 5. UT little in advance of the dying century there passes into eternity also the soul of a grand and noble man, an ideal priest of God. Father P. V. Kavanagh is no more. The nine o'clock bells were ringing on the night of Saturday, the 9th inst., when word was brought us that Father Kavanagh had just died. Though we had been expecting this news for weeks past, when it came at last it cast a gloom over the countenances of not only those who were here under him, but of those also who knew him only by the stories so often repeated of his proverbially paternal kindness and amiability toward his "boys.' As president of Niagara Father Kavanagh, or, as he was called with loving familiarity by the students of his time, "Father P. V.," acted in the double capacity of father and teacher. His generous heart was large enough to contain a sense of duty in correcting a delinquent, and an abundance of fatherly love to wipe away the consequent tears of the scolded. How many a homesick lad found in him a ready listener to to his petty sorrows, and a soothing consoler thereof, no one can know; how many a man owes a successful and honorable career to the admonition and advice given him with so much gentleness and feeling, each one himself can alone know. That giant form, topped with his characteristically noble face and beaming eyes, was always a welcome sight in the study hall or on the campus. Bubbling over with stories of war times," air-breadth 'scapes," and memories of Niagara's infancy, many a weary and rainy day turned into sunshine under his spell. It was a common sight to notice, during the long winter evenings, congregated in a corner of the study or recreation hall, a crowd of awe-stricken studei.ts, with Father Kavanagh in the midst of them relating reminiscences. Every stone, shrub and tree about Niagara had a history, and each leaped into a living being at his word. So great was his love for the "boys that are gone" that everything hereabouts connected with them was sacred, and was commanded to be left unchanged. His love for the "old boys" was equalled only by that for those immediately with him. It was in this manner that there sprung up such a bond of unwavering affection between student and superior. While his very bearing commanded respect, his grand countenance invited approach and confidence. What student ever could hesitate to give absolute confidence to Father Kavanagh? None ever went to him in trouble and was repulsed, none ever went to him and found him impatient or unkind. No trophy, sword, or hatchment o'er his bones, This, to a solder, to have no formal funeral or ceremony, seemed to have borne more heavily on Laertes than the death itself. Then, at the same time, Claudius, that thousand-crimed king, is spurring him on, and, in Iago-like fashion, is enkindling his anger against Hamlet, and he finally culmniates it all by persuading Laertes to test his skill at the foils with Hamlet, with the well-known result. The devilish cunning Claudius here employs excites our deepest contempt and censure. To think that Laertes could be thus led into the snare is almost beyond our comprehension. But then, Laertes is beside himself with anger and grief, and a man in such a state, as he himself affirms, sends : “To hell, allegiance! vows to the blackest devil! Let come what comes, only I'll be reveng'd." Here is seen the most pitiable state of man-in which reason is overthrown and gives place to the passions of anger and revenge. But again Claudius finds an apt pupil in Laertes, who eagerly follows his suggestions, and is fully determined upon using a sword unbaited, while he himself offers to further his own degradation by poisoning his own sword point. Verily, Laertes, you have here lost, in our eyes, all seuse of honor and manhood. "When it rains it pours" could be aptly applied to him in the present instance. His father's death was a sad blow to him, but now his sister becomes a raving maniac, and this terrible sight is almost unbearable. Her death by drowning follows soon after, and his cup is full to overflowing. To think that she, in whom he had placed such hopes, his "rose of May," his "kind sister," his "sweet Ophelia," is nipped in the bud, in the full beauty of maidenhood, in the spring of life, almost overpowers him. He endures indescribable sorrow and pain, and it is only those who have lost a dear friend, a dear sister or brother, who can properly appreciate his grief. His inward pain almost drives him mad, yet he restrains his tears and gulps down his grief. His sternness and strength of w are here plainly demonstrated: "Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, Laertes lives now only for revenge, and revenge on Hamlet he must have. With her death was undone the hope of Laertes. Military ambitions fled, the gayety of Paris no longer offered its pleasures to him. and the glory and din of the battle-field lost all ite attractions for this distracted, broken-hearted soldier of Denmark: At the funeral of Ophelia he shows his hatred and contempt for religion when the priest tells him that he doubts as to her death, and that it would be a profanation to the peace-parted souls to sing a Requiem for one whose death was doubtful. This taxes his feel ings severely, and he says : "A ministering angel shall my sister be, Laertes' love for his sister, Ophelia, once more asserts itself. He leaps into the grave : "Hold off the earth awhile, Till I have caught her once more in mine arms." Another loves her, however, and advances from the background to claim and protest his love for Ophelia -Hamlet. He, too, follows the example of Laertes. and a scuffle ensues in her very grave, but they are parted, and separate to meet again in other scenes. In the second scene of Act V. Hamlet repents to Horatio this hasty action, in these words: "But I am very sorry, good Horatio, Now comes Osric, who bears a message to Hamlet from the king. This message is cunningly worded, and reveals the plot by which Hamlet is to be done away. The king avers that he has laid a wager with Laertesthat, in a dozen passes between yourself and him he shall not exceed you three hits : he hath lad on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial if your lordship would vouchsafe an answer." Hamlet is easily led into the snare and consents to the trial of skill, which takes place before the court. Before commencing, the king puts the hand of Laertes into Hamlet's, who humbly asks his pardon and excuses himself, besides affirming that were he himself he would not have injured him in the least. Laertes says: "I am satisfied in nature, whose motive in this case," etc. They choose the foils and play. During the action Gertrude, mother of Hamlet, drinks to Hamlet from the poisoned cup. In the scuffle that ensues in the wounding of Hamlet their rapiers are exchanged and Laertes is also wounded. The queen falls in agony, and Laertes acknowledges the treachery. But the king is not to escape, and is killed by Hamlet with the poisoned foil. Hamlet, before his death, hears of his triumph. In conclusion let us contrast the noble character of Hamlet with that of Laertes. Hamlet dies pitying Laertes and forgiving him, knowing that Laertes has been under the impression, received from the king, that he was his enemy; while, on the other hand, Laertes dies repenting of the base wrongs and ingratitude he has done Hamlet, and begging his forgiveness, and ere the poison has done its work he is heard to exclaim : "Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet; Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me.' W. B. C. (1st. Rhet.) Nathan Hale. HE story of Nathan Hale, the martyr spy of the American Revolution, is well known to readers of the history of our country. He furnishes one of the most conspicuous examples of patriotism that the history of that Revolution left us, and yet few are the monuments that have been erected, either to perpetuate his memory or to recall to future generations the heroic deeds of the teacher, the soldier and the martyr. Nathan Hale was born June 6, 1755, in Coventry, a township in the northeastern part of Connecticut. There he spent his boyhood days, until he entered Yale, at the early age of 16. He graduated from that institution in 1733, and soon became engaged as school teacher in East Haddam, Ct., being afterward promoted to a professorship in the grammar school at New London, Ct. While engaged in the latter place there came sounding over the country the rattle of Lexington musketry. Hale was among the first to enlist, and encouraged others to do likewise, saying: "Let us march immediately, and never lay down our arms until we have obtained our independence." The morning after the news of Lexington the company started on the road to join their regiment. Hale soon rose in rank from a volunteer private to a captain. In the autumn his regiment joined Washington near Boston, where, during the siege of that city, Hale distinguished himself by vigilant activity and skill. In April, 1776, he accompanied the army on their trip from Boston to New York. Soon after reaching there Hale was the leader of a small party which, under cover of night, and in a row-boat, boarded and took a British vessel filled with army supplies from under the guns of a powerful battleship anchored only a few rods off, and brought the vessel with its crew in the hold safely to the wharf. Weeks passed in the performance of military duty, until the latter part of the summer of 1776 (Aug. 26) when the dis strous battle of Long Island was fought, and the American troops were compelled to beat a to Manhattan Island. forces and accurate plans of their position and defences. Washington made known his desire to his officers, and when Col. Knowlton called for a volunteer to undertake the difficult task there stepped forth the hero of the Revolution, Nathan Hale, who courageously undertook to perform the dangerous, despised, yet in this case the vital duty of a spy. After receiving his orders he donned a school teacher's garb and made his way to Great Neck, L. I. He then entered the enemy's country. Where he went, what were his dangers, his escapes, his devices, and what information he obtained, will never be known. After going about among the enemy for two weeks he made his way back to Huntington, L. I. While waiting here for a boat he expected to take him to the opposite shore he was betrayed by a Tory relative. Seeing a boat coming toward him he walked down to the shore, prepared to leap aboard, when suddenly a British officer jumped up and commanded him to surrender. The crew in the boat covered him with their arms, and he was taken aboard. Saturday, Sept. 21, 1776, he was brought to New York, to be tried before the British commander-in-chief. Hale denied nothing. He admitted that he was an American officer and a spy; that he had been successful in his search for information, regretted that he was by his capture unable to serve his country, and then fearlessly awaited his sentence. This noble man was convicted "as a spy, and to be hanged by the neck till dead, the next morning at daybreak." Hale spent the night in reading the Bible and writing letters. At daybreak-the daybreak of the Sabbath-when the provost came to his cell to call him, Hale handed him the few letters he had written, and asked as a last request that they be kept until they could be delivered. The provost read them in Hale's presence and then tore them up. When asked afterward why he did this he answered that "he did not want the rebels to know that they had a man who could die with such firmness." Hale, with arms pinioned, was then led to the place of execution. While he was standing on the rounds of the ladder, with the noose about his neck, the provost scoffingly asked him to speak out his dying speech and confession. It is said that Hale just turned with a flash of contempt in his manner to the marshal, and then, looking toward the spectators, uttered those memorable words which will ever be enshrined in the hearts of the loyal sons of America: "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. The example of Nathan Hale will serve to light the Then came the fires of noble manhood and love of country in the dark hours that threatened to blast the hopes of lib- hearts of American youth for ages to come, while his erty. Men were sick and dying in large numbers; last words will be treasured and remembered as long desertions were reducing the ranks; lack of food and failure to receive pay were developing insubordination. The well-trained, well-equipped British army was nearly double the number of the American soldiers, and the British ships-of-war at anchor in New York Bay were ready to assist whenever a battle would begin. Washington's anxiety was intense, and his only hope of success was to find out the plans of the British commander, Gen. Howe. There was need of an intelligent soldier to pass the British lines, penetrite the enemy's camp, make careful estimates of refr |