Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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LOYOLA COLLEGE REVIEW 15 -к that he was struck down by the in- vaders. Thus we see that the eight who are to be beatified all perished at the hands of Savage pagans, and all remained true, even to the bitter end, to the faith which was theirs then and is ours to- day. Two of the martyrs were slain by the Mohawks in what is now the northern part of the State of New York. The scene of their death was near the modern town of Auriesville and here in commemoration of the event a monu- ment has been raised in their honor. The remaining six died in Huronia, the — country which borders on Georgian Bay and is now comprised in the north- western part of Old Ontario. At Wau- baushene, overlooking the blue waters of Lake Huron and the verdant woods of the surrounding country, a shrine is dedicated to their memory; thither pilgrims go each year in ever-increasing numbers to honor these devoted men. May the perils and torments which they underwent in upholding their faith ever be an example to us, and may the Church ever have in her midst priests and workers as devoted to the service of God as these men were! J. DENT McCrea, '26. AGE TO YOUTH A drop of water lost on desert sand, A flash of lightning 'cross a troubled sky, Has longer durance than life’s pendency; A thread no sooner spun than Death's gaunt hand With strength remorseless cuts the vital strand. Above her lifeless child a Mother's cry Has more avail than has the useless try Of Life's frail self to 'scape Time's iron band. O! Be not eager thus your thread to spin, And think that yours will stretch beyond Time's grasp. O! Come not yet into the battle's din, For all too soon we'll hear your last long gasp. So rest the while stern Duty grants delay, For when she calls, then Youth has had his day. JOHN SHERIDAN, '28. a

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14 LOYOLA COLLEGE REVIEW — occasions captured and tortured by the Iroquois and finally killed by them, is on Fr. Bréboeuf's left. His hands are mangled and two of the fingers have been torn off by the Mohawks; but his body, scarred by the knives and burnt by the brands of these same savages, you do not see. Robed in his surplice and stole, Blessed Anthony Daniel stands to the left of Fr. Jogues, while, kneeling, from left to right of the picture, are Blessed John de La Lande, a humble lay assist- ant to the missionaries, Blessed Charles Garnier, and Blessed René Goupil, all brave and earnest men following their divine calling in the face of every hard- ship and peril. Every one of the eight we have just enumerated was martyred, slain in cold blood by the Indians whom they had come to save, and in our illustra- tion, directly under the large figure of each one, we see portrayed the manner of his death. Thus, beneath the large figures of Frs. Bréboeuf and Lalement, we see the methods used by the fiendish Iroquois to put these priests to death. They are bound to stakes; red-hot hatchet blades are hung around their necks. Their flesh is cruelly torn by hooks; their tongues have been cut out and the nails of their fingers torn off by inhuman wretches. In mockery of the Sacrament of Baptism Indian boys pour boiling water over their lacerated bodies while the flames of the fire leap ever higher and new ways of torture are continually forthcoming. Below the large figure of Fr. Jogues is depicted the manner in which he met his death— a glib Mohawk invites him to enter an Indian long-house while a skulking confederate steals upon him from behind with uplifted tomahawk. One blow suffices to dispatch the martyr and thus he. dies—another witness to the faith of Christ. Next, Blessed René Goupil is being struck down by a fanatic brave after — having made the sign of the cross over a little Indian child. Beyond, on the other side of the river, is the figure of Blessed Anthony Daniel who died at the threshold of his humble church. His village having been attacked by the Iroquois, he calmly went about his duties, consoling and shriving his Huron charges. When the enemy finally broke through the palisades and into the village the last of . the Hurons, panic-stricken, crowded into the little Christian chapel in abject terror. Fr. Daniel, however, remained calm. Standing before the church he opposed the further advance of the Iroquois, becoming at once the target of a hail of bullets and arrows. Thus he fell mortally wounded while the savages rushed over his prostrate form to raze his church and to slaughter the remainder of his flock. Turning to the lower left background of the picture. we see how Fr. Noel Chabanel, bent on an errand of mercy, has met death at the hands of a treacherous, apostate Huron. For a long time it was not known that Fr. Chabanel had died thus, for the Indian, returning to the mission after the murder, reported having seen Fr. Chabanel and even having aided him on his journey. Long years afterwards, however, the renegade confessed that he had killed the priest out of hatred for the doctrines which he taught. In the lower left corner are depicted the deaths of the layman John de La Lande, who was martyred in the Iro- quois country, and of Fr. Charles Garnier. The latter perished at the hands of a band of marauding savages who attacked the small Huron village of Etharita. Instead of fleeing, Fr. Garnier remained steadfast to aid his: little band of converts and to prepare them for death. While thus engaged he was wounded by a bullet; nothing daunted, however, he continued to console the dying and stricken Hurons, and, as is shown in the picture, it was while performing this work of mercy

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5 . 16 LOYOLA COLLEGE REVIEW Fool s T was the Commence- ment and Gala day of the College. What! never heard of it? Well, you have certainly missed something worth while. Гуе been there as often as I could get an invitation, but it was at this one that I met Jim Duncan, B.A. and valedictorian. Nothing wonderful to mention, you may say, to meet a valedictorian. True enough, it isn’t; but this one is certainly worth your notice, for within a month from the time he left college, he found out three things. First, happiness isn’t always wrapped up with a College degree, money isn’t everything, and lastly, but best of all,—there is no place like home. Know these and you’ve got a good start in life. But let us see how it came about. Towards the middle of the afternoon, the campus and great quadrangle were crowded with small groups of students who sauntered about as they held their farewell chats. Already prizes had been awarded, degrees solemnly con- ferred and the valedictory delivered. For hours, distinguished visitors had eulogized the future of the College. They always do—they can’t help it. Neither can the students refrain from wondering if they are ever going to stop. This ordeal at an end, some were escorting parents and friends along the corridors, through the great ivy-covered cloisters, attracting atten- tion to this or that of traditional in- terest in the College. Shouts of “5о long, Bill,—see you next year, or “Don’t forget to drop me a line,” or Where are you going this summer ?” were mingled with emphatic assertions of the Alumni that things are not as they used to be; for instance, when Goldy Shopenhauser was quarter for the College eleven. Everybody laughed and everybody shook hands, but even in the very atmosphere there was an uncanny feeling of regret. hen Gold Why ?—my dear man, there never was a student who was happy when he left the College. Some distance apart where he could see everybody and yet not be bothered, Jim Duncan sat. Besides being well dressed, handsome amd popular, he had the reputation of being fairly intelligent in classes. To-day he was discouraged. Yes, he had his degree, he reflected, but what could he do now ? To him a profession was closed because he could not afford to go to a university. What about the home town? The very thought was repugnant to him. There he might rise to be Principal of the Evanstown High School,—a fine pros- pect! The hardware business with his father? Impossible! He'd just see if his nose would be kept to the grindstone from the moment he arrived home. He'd show them a thing or two! Did a college education nec essitate selling flat irons, wash tubs and such? Not a bit of it. He'd go home and see how matters stood. If they weren't favor- able, then good-bye to “What’s the matter, Jim, old boy? you look as if someone shot the two best friends you had and you were one of them. Why, hello Bob! didn't expect to see you because you weren't to be found awhile ago. Off to Europe? then, apologetically, guess I’ve got the graduation blues.” Bob Davis, his room mate and boon companion for the past two years was the one man Jim respected. First, he was the richest fellow in the school; after that he was not such a bad sort when you got to know him. Any new plans for the summer Jim ? —same old heart-breaking tactics that brought home the letters after the Junior Prom? And golf of course. . Jim laughed. and then the pot called the kettle black, he quoted. “Not this year, old man. I think I'll