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

Dr. Moore's impressions of the Mountain and recollections of those days of '61 will revive or beget kindred ideas and feelings in every reader's heart:

"A day or two before the time set for the annual retreat, given that year by Father Fulton, S. J., my friend proposed a trip to Indian Lookout.

Right Rev. Thomas Becker, D.D. Bishop of Savannah

"We passed by the Grotto and its shrine of the Blessed Virgin. Once a year on the feast of Corpus Christi, a solemn procession was made, thither and back, from the Old White Church on the Hill.

"The College Fathers, seminarians and students, with considerable of a gathering from the surrounding country, took part in this devotion when the weather did not forbid.

"A little stream, fed by springs somewhere up the mountain, runs by on the right as one approaches the shrine. The brook occupies the bed of a ravine which divides the mountain into a northern and southern spur, at the eastern extremity of which in an open space stands the College.

"Although since that time I have been through solitary places, amongst which might be mentioned the Indian Reservation, within hailing distance east of me, where Chief Shawnessee still looks, with an eye of pride, on his plumed and painted braves going through the evolutions of the Ghost Dance, yet I cannot now recollect of ever having experienced such a sense of loneliness as when passing up that little-ravine.

"The trees on either side with their interlaced vines forming a natural arcade; the red and blue birds; the orioles in black and orange; the noisy jays (the English sparrow had not yet come); the graceful little humming birds, which came and built their nests in the summer; the soft murmuring of the rivulet itself, as it passed around or leaped over bowlders in its path ; the viper and rattlesnake, which had crept from their hiding places to enjoy existence in some sunlit spot; all these combined were verse-inspiring, and such as St. Francis might love to sing.

"Good Father Obermeyer seems to have taken in the situation. With his two youthful friends, James Dunn and Martin Fallon, he built a rustic dam some distance above the shrine, and by means of saplings hollowed out, brought the water to form a jet of easily a dozen feet in height, in the center of a basin, in front of the frame chapel.

"Father Obermeyer, the builder of the fountain, was professor of chemistry and the natural sciences in my time. He was orderly as a clock, and put the cabinet, as well as the laboratory, in excellent form. He would sometimes get a boy with long curls on the electric stool, and the way he made each particular hair stand on end was far beyond the power of any ghost past, present, or to come. One day, in looking over his collection of curiosities, in the line of minerals, fossils, etc., I came to a case with several crisp bank notes, and under these the words : " Specimens of paper money issued in Virginia during the Great Rebellion."

"Being a Pennsylvanian by birth, his sympathies during the Civil War were openly and above board with the Federal cause. It was in this same laboratory he ended his earthly career, and the circumstances are yet vivid with me. He had been engaged with Charley Abel of Baltimore in preparing materials to illustrate some chemical principle; when, just as the bell rang for the mid-day meal, a sudden rush of blood to the head caused him to pitch forward, prone on the floor; and within ten minutes the soul of the good Leonard Obermeyer had passed beyond that veil which separates time from eternity, fortified, however, by the holy sacrament of Extreme Unction, administered by Father McMurdie, Professor of Mental Philosophy.

"It was believed by many at the time that Father Oberrneyer had a premonition of his approaching death. Several persons recalled to mind how he had spent a much longer time than usual in the chapel, after having said Mass that same morning. In expectation of the arrival of some relatives from a distance, the body lay in state for two days; but finally, in the dusk of the evening, followed by his sorrowing friends and associates, the remains were reverently borne, a la Romana, by torchlight to a grave on the hillside, there to rest until the day of resurrection. . . .

"Late in the fall of that year (1860), a Mr. Xorthrop, who had three sons in college, came up from Charleston to visit them. Doubtless he believed or possibly knew there would be trouble in the near future. Father Byrne was a pronounced Unionist, and Mr. Northrop an enthusiastic upholder of the right of secession. Both were eloquent, and both well read on the questions of the day. Mr. Xorthrop proposed a friendly conference on the subject of secession, to be held in the study hall, in the presence of the students, seminarians, and members of the Faculty; and from all I can now recollect Father Byrne expressed a willingness to meet an opponent so well worthy of his steel. But the feeling being everywhere intense, and daily growing more and more so, the president and others in authority were of the opinion it would not be wise to bring up the doctrine of State Rights in so formal a manner. Thus the writer and many others missed what would surely have been a rare intellectual treat.

"In the spring of '61 many of the southern students left for home; doubtless with the intention, in case of war, to stand or fall with the section to which they and their sires belonged.

"The first of these was John Northrop a South Carolinian and son of the gentleman spoken of above. He had been a student of the college almost from infancy; but when the sound of the cannon from Sumter reached his ears, John left his books to shoulder a rifle and march forward in the ranks of glorious war. Alas! Poor John. He lingered a blind veteran for twenty-five years thereafter. Ed. Murray, of Chicago, was another who left the college campus for the Champs de Mars.

"To John, and other young mountaineers of that day we may, with only a slight change, apply the words used by Tasso of Rinaldo, the valiant though impetuous crusader,

'Tolto quasi il bambin dalla mammella. 11 Monte lo voile, e nutricollo, e intrusse Nell' arti regie; e sempre ei fu con elle, Finche invaghi la giovinetta mente La trombeche s'udia dall' Oriente.'

"Although Mason and Dixon's line was plainly visible at the mountain in those days, yet there was a feeling of brotherhood on. both sides, and a hope that in the event of war, no Mountaineer would ever fall by the bullet of another.

"This sentiment was put into verse and sung on commencement day ('61), by Edward V. Boursaud, of Brooklyn. Many of the old Mountaineers who may have forgotten the words will be pleased to see them again ; so I give them here from memory:

'Thus hand in hand and heart with heart,

We'll sing our parting song, my friends; For think not that, because we part, Our dear old College friendship ends.

'Dark clouds are gathering far and near; Our sun of promise seems to set; But peace or war, be still our prayer That we may all be brothers yet.'

'What though around the ship of state The angry winds may lift the spray, And brothers wail, in eager hate, To rend the veil of peace away.

' Let no one share that madness here; Whate'er the future may beget. Remember, each true Mountaineer. That we may all be brothers yet."'

Here are letters from outside the College that suggest stirring events and opposite opinions:

Basil T. Elder, '59, writes from St. Louis, January 1, 1862, to Dr. McCaffrey:

In these terrible times too, how much more we are led hack to the peaceful and joyous days of quiet study in that ' bright pure air in those sweet blowing winds, which refresh the unviolated land where dwells that love which was seated by the side of wisdom, the handmaid of every virtue.' Sow indeed I have to measure every line and word that I indite. Two of my letters have been returned from the Gen. P. O. with words underscored in red, the 'Mark of the Beast!' without comment however. . . .

Another friend writes from Washington, January 10 :

Our city remains in the same condition as it was when I last wrote you. Nothing but soldiers here, there and everywhere. Some in grey, some in blue, and some in dirt-colored uniforms. Officers and privates Henchmen, Germans, Italians and Irish (Green Erin in the majority, of come). Some clean, some not; teamsters, messengers, mounted and foot guards in a word the streets of our city present such a scene as was never before seen ib America. We cannot have less than 150,000 men within a circuit of twenty miles round Washington. As a body, 'tis said, a finer set of men never gathered to fight for a noble cause. . . .

The number of pupils this scholastic year, 1861-2, was the lowest in half a century, sixty-seven with twenty-eight seminarians, among them a future president, John A. Watterson. There were nine graduates. The honors went to William Byrne, the chess player, of Brooklyn, X. Y.; James Dunn, Emil Noel, Martin Fallon, James A. Duggan, Charles Abell.

Prefects: Jeremiah J. Griffin, John F. Kearney, James Duffy, James Smith, three New Yorkers and one Kentuckian.

Father John McCloskey, Vice-President and Procurator, was evidently growing anxious about the finances and writes to Dr. McCaffrey who is away on his vacation:

July 18, 1802.

Rev. and dear Friend: My mind is continually trying to devise plans to diminish our expenses and if possible to do something to increase our income, and I now give you the result of my thoughts on the subject to-day, which has been a pretty gloomy one for farmers.

These are war times and West Point is dispensing with some of its rigid course in order to prepare men for action as soon as possible. Now to come to the point here is my plan:

Our course for graduation is pretty well established; I mean our strict requirements with regard to it. Might we not for a year or two relax somewhat and insert in our catalogue as we used to have it, that for the present there will be an English or Commercial Course for those who do not wish to go through the regular course?

Think it over these are war times and we must do all we can to increase our income over what it was last year, times are hard money is scarce and will, I think, be scarcer before we are much older, and people generally will not be able to give their sons a thorough collegiate education, and many would be glad to have their sons with us a year or two, but under existing circumstances will send them to day schools in the cities.

I think with management we could keep up our collegiate course and at the same time increase our number by yielding, for the present, to the pressure of the times and introducing the proposed Commercial Course. If you choose you can insert in the publication that I will take charge of it. I have just given my views to Fr. Obermeyer and he says, "by all means send it at once."

The draft is causing quite a sensation in a very quiet but serious way. Young fellows and middle-aged ones too are becoming very pious. A club has been formed in the district of those liable to conscription, and when one of their names comes out of the hat, the other members contribute as much as is necessary to buy him a substitute. . . .

[New York and other States paid this amount themselves, offering what was called a "bounty " to volunteers in order to fill up the quota required by the Government. John O'Brien, a young Irishman, took this "bounty," fifteen hundred dollars, and with it paid his way to the holy ministry after the war was over. He was the Rev. John O'Brien of our faculty, and had come from Ireland on the maiden trip of the "Great Eastern," the largest steamship built up to that time or for forty years thereafter.]

Maurice Byrne, of Louisiana, is evidently a "red hot" Secessionist; he writes:

Mt. St. Mary's College, Sept. 8, 1862.

Dear Sister: I cannot explain to you the joy which the most of us felt when we got the news that the Southerners were in Frederick and that the Yankees were running for dear life. Six of our students left here during the last two nights to join them, without permission from anybody. To-day Mr. McCaffrey told some of the boys that the Southerners took Baltimore. I do not know how true it is. I saw Bart Shorb yesterday and spoke to him, he was just out of Fort McHenry a few days and he looks well. He is out on parole. Three boys came here yesterday morning and four went away last night, so if they keep on coming in in threes and going out in fours we will not have many here soon; as it is we have only about thirty-five boys, twenty-seven Seminarians. I must close and study my Greek.

Maurice died for the Lost Cause. His name is on the Hill. During the Civil War, 1861-1865, there was of course great excitement at the College, containing as it did representatives from North and South of the line. On September 24, 1862, Lee crossed the Potomac and invaded Maryland, being opposed by McClellan at Antietam, about forty miles from the College, where the cannonading was sometimes heard. A party of six of the senior class left in the morning after breakfast (permission having been refused), crossed the Blue Ridge and reached the battlefield ; at any rate they did not return till near midnight. The door was closed against them, and they crawled to Emmitsburg, two and a half miles away. Communicating with their parents and accepting due retribution, they were all admitted once more to the College. One of them, James Corrigan, died president of Seton Hall College; another, Dr. Moore, became an author and administrator of a diocese, and helps us by vivid "Reminiscences" to realize those days.

This year, 1862, in June, Prof. Dielman's salary was to be seven hundred dollars, and July 15th George H. Miles' was reduced to five hundred "until the number of students pass the century mark," but on his resigning, it was decided to offer him seven hundred dollars and two months' extra vacation this year. M. Maurice was to teach French and Spanish for four hundred a year and board.

In the records this year, 1862, we note that at one time the College owned San Marino as well as Clairvaux, as Father Shanahan, '23, again intimates in a letter to the president. The Archconfraternity of St. Peter was started in the Mountain parish by Dr. McCaffrey July 13th, its object being to help the Pope who was falling into financial straits.

Dr. Moore's "Reminiscences" (1860-65), tell us that the people around Emmitsburg and in the town were very evenly divided at the outbreak of the War of '61. A company of volunteers marched off openly one day to strike for the Union cause: whilst others discovered they had important business demanding immediate attention down in the direction of Dixie's land. The latter went off without the aid of brass bands; and if any tears were shed at parting they rolled in secret. But the feeling of bitterness on both sides was doubtless more intense than could be found farther either way from the line. Border states are always more exposed to the vicissitudes of war, and the hatred begotten of daily intercourse between citizens is deeper and more lasting than among enlisted soldiers.

"I was speaking one day to a man whose son was in the Confederate service; and he told me of his having heard how his boy had been taken prisoner in one of the skirmishes, then of daily occurrence.

"'I suppose,' said I, ' you are glad he is now safe from the bullet until exchanged.'

" 'Glad!' said he, ' glad! I should feel sorrowful on hearing of his death, but I would bear it without murmur pro­vided it happened in a battle where the Yankees were defeated and crushed forever.'

"Even the little children had imbibed the spirit of their parents; and whilst going along the public road it was no uncommon thing to hear a tot, perched on the top of a fence, shout as if he would split a ' Hurrah for Jeff' or a ' Hurrah for Abe.'

"It was even so with the good fathers and lay professors of the College who agreed to disagree on the merits of the political situation. But, though each and every one held tenaciously to his own views, it was so done as not to give reason I saw a rather frail youth leave the ranks to rest his fagged-out limbs against a tree that was there. In an instant his gun dropped from his hand, for he was sound asleep, and the winds played with his long dark hair, whilst his pale face seemed like one chiseled out of marble. The spirit seemed to have left his body, and was then, may be, back on the banks of the Ohio, or looking down some bluff on the turbid waters of the swift Missouri. But his dreams, of whatever character they may have been, were of short duration, for an officer soon approached, who bade him take up his gun and rejoin the onward throng that marched to battle.

"I heard it stated at the time that about eighty-five thousand soldiers had passed. But as I made no attempt to count what the exact or approximate figure may have been, I cannot say. This immense body halted for a rest a little north of Emmitsburg, where its camp fires by night and tents by day must have impressed the citizens with the conviction that they were indeed in the midst of things destined to be the themes for the historians and poets of future ages."

On February 17, 1863, Mr. George H. Miles resigned his professorship in the College.

Bishop (Card.) McCloskey to his old schoolmate Dr. McCaffrey.

Albany, May 26, 1863.

Very Rev. dear Friend: I was delighted to receive your kind and friendly letter now more than ever do we incline to look back with fond and pleasing recollection on the good old times and to cherish more and more both persons and places and things associated with them. And what is there that links my memories more strongly with the pleasant past than the dear old Mountain and "Ambitious Mac," its worthy and now venerable President? I do wish sincerely I could visit you, but my absence abroad last summer gives me double duty at home during the present or coming one. I will be kept on my visitations with very little respite until some time in August. . . .

We are indeed sighing and praying for Peace, but alas ! the day seems still far distant. If the flames of civil discord do not burst out among us here at home, we shall esteem ourselves happy.

I am glad that all remains so tranquil around the college, and that its prosperity is greater than you have ever anticipated it could or would be at this time. May you long continue to prosper. . . .

Meantime the "Lion of the Fold of Juda," Archbishop Hughes, was gradually failing, and this was to be the last year of his well spent, laborious life. "As he grew older," says Mr. Hassard, "his want of mental discipline became more and more than ever apparent when age and sickness prevented him from taking that active part in affairs to which he had been accustomed, and striking from the rich ore of his brain, in the heat of conflict and discussion, the golden thoughts by which, far more than by the learning culled from books, he had built up his great reputation." His last sermon was in June, 1863, at the dedication of St. Teresa's Church, New York.

The catalogue of June 24, 1863, showed ninety-four boys and twenty-seven seminarians. There were twelve graduates.

Prefects: James Duffy, John F. Kearney, James Smith, Bernard McCulloch.

The honors went to John F. Damman, James C. Kearney, William G. Scott, Michael J. Naughton, Fernando B. Poe, Catesby Byrne, William Nicholson. A round was sung, "The Daisies," by Joseph H. McMurdie, Mus. Bach. Oxon.

Abp. Hughes came down to Baltimore in July to attend the funeral of Abp. Kenrick, but fainted while trying to say Mass.

The College is twelve miles from the center of the village of Gettysburg, and the "fiery crest" and "high-water mark" of Southern advance are visible from the road just north of us; indeed the College people were as we shall see spectators of the great military drama. The battle of Gettysburg, July 1, 2 and 3, 1863, may be said to have covered the territory on either side of Mason and Dixon's Line; Emmitsburg, ten miles from Gettysburg, was occupied by soldiery at one time; skirmishes took place all about the Catoctin and other spurs of the Blue Ridge; the Confederate forces invading Pennsylvania passed along in front oi the College, and many a veteran will tell how he saw it or stopped there for a bite and how they treated him. Valuable stock, especially horses, were driven away up the mountain, for foraging parties did not scruple to exchange their broken-down cattle for better, giving in exchange an order on their respective governments, which, as its value was very problematical the farmers were very unwilling to accept. There is on the north end of the Spur a romantically beautiful spot known as Indian Lookout, whence in ancient days the Indians of Maryland used to post their sentries to announce the coming through the pass of their Susquehanna foes, and which is a perpetually delightful place of resort for the students, who usually escort their newly entered associates thither blindfold and remove the bandage when the enchanting scene lies before them. Dr. McCaffrey with John Watterson (afterwards Bishop of Columbus) and other professors and students were up at the Lookout with a telescope during the battle, and being perceived by the Union scouts were fired upon and afterwards visited and obliged to explain that they were not videttes in the service of the enemy. The doctor indeed used to say that if he met Gen. Lee he could give him valuable information, as he knew "every foot of the country." William Byrne, '59, also, with another seminarian visiting the field a few days later, was arrested and given in charge of a sergeant who brought both to Emmitsburg to verify their statement that they were not spies nor robbers of the dead soldiers nor therefore deserving of instant death. The rain and wind had reduced them to a very unpresentable state. When Father McCarthy, C. M., opened the door he could hardly refrain from laughter at the picture they presented, but at once assured the officer that they were decent young men, seminarians at the Mountain. The sergeant, declining to step in and dry his clothes and take something, returned to his commanding officer, while the two Mountaineers put on dry clothes, ate their supper and went to bed, the priest sending a message over to the College explaining their absence.

To return to the Lookout: on the right shoulder of the promontory are found traces of Indian graves, which no one seemed to know of, until one day as the chronicler was walking out with Archbishop Elder, who wished to visit some old friends, he was asked by the prelate when he had been up at the Indian graves. It's a pity, but it's true, that the memory of the local points of interest does die away in these days, when newspapers compel our attention to the world outside, and when interest is so concentrated in base-ball and foot-ball that it is well nigh impossible to get the students to think of anything else or to see beauty in any object except the "diamond " and the "gridiron." Besides, the American in the twentieth century ignores the past and is bent on pushing forward, although there be those latterly, chiefly women and monarchists, who strive to trace their genealogies to colonial days. The fact, too, that boys no longer remain for vacation causes them to think and to look away and homeward and to disregard the College and its surroundings, no longer a home to them as it used to be for their predecessors. An example is the "Legend of Indian Lookout," which we first heard of, or at least took notice of, in 1905, though it had been written up in the "Mountaineer " ten years before.

As was to be expected, the students and the College suffered much financial distress during the war; indeed several border schools went under completely. Wages and the necessaries of life doubled in the North and in Maryland, while the main reliance of the College was the South, whose money condition may be estimated from the prices of the bill of fare of the Richmond Restaurant in January, 1864, when Professor Lagarde boarded there: Soup, $1.50; bread and butter, $1.50; roast beef, a plate, 83 ; boiled eggs, $2; ham and eggs, $3.50; rock fish, a plate, 85; fried oysters, a plate, $5; raw oysters, $3; fresh milk, a glass, $2; coffee, a cup, $3; tea, a cup, $2. Quinine was $17.00 an ounce.

The shrinkage of the currency was of course responsible, and some idea may be gathered from a story that went the rounds at the time. A soldier galloped along a country road and a farmer leaning over a fence admired the animal. He called to the trooper, offering to buy the horse:

"Give you §30,000 for him, Johnny," he said. "Not much, old man. I just paid $1,500 to have him shod," was the reply. Meanwhile let us see how thrive our friends in Rome. [Rev. William McCloskey to Rev. J. McCaffirey.]

Tivoli, Italy, Aug. 16^th,, 1863.

Rev. dear President: Here at last, within hearing of the falls, I sit down to answer your two very kind letters. "Better late than never." Just before leaving Home. Harry McDowall gave me a letter to read one that he had received from Boursaud, now S. J., I suppose, and I was delighted once more to hear of those inside of the dear old college walls. My sister writes frequently enough, but, woman-like, she tells me more about outsiders than she does about the grave and reverend personages within. As for good old Father Xaupi, one need never expect to hear anything of him in a lady's letter, for I verily believe they would all fear to put his name on paper. Do give him my moat affectionate remembrances. His name is often mentioned even at the America College.

Half a dozen of us set out early yesterday morning to visit a miraculous Madonna at Vicovaro, a small town about nine miles from this place. Thousands have visited the place during the last few weeks; as many as fifteen thousand in one day. The throng increases rather than diminishes. The picture is a very beautiful one and the eyes so life-like, that one might easily be deceived unless very careful. The hands are joined before the breast as if in prayer, the eyes looking up to Heaven. It is really most sweet and beautiful said to be a copy of one by Guido Reni. Numbers attest that they witnessed the moving of the eyes, and the cures wrought by the intercession of the Blessed Virgil are undoubted. An Irish Jesuit Father who is there hearing confessions told us that two had been wrought yesterday morning (the feast of the Assumption) and several crutches are lying on the altar offered by those who came to the Shine cripples, and had gone away healed. The faith of the simple peasant is moat edifying and somewhat amusing too. for they seem to take the moving of the eyes as a matter of course, and are astonished to think that everybody doesn't see it as well as they. Nothing is hinted at about want of faith, though I strongly suspect they half mean it. Our students are apt to laugh at the Italians as being unable to give the Pope a regular Mountain "hurrah " when they gather to do him honor, but anybody who heard the deafening "Viva Maria" which they put up from time to time in the church, will soon change his mind on that subject. Romans may not be able to shout, but I can testify to the fact that Vicovarians can. It reminded me of " recreation, recreation "coming from a hundred and thirty or forty throats of youths that did not know their Latin lessons, old Caspar Jordan's (Beleke) friend of the 4th among them. There is very little human respect among these good simple people. They ask for what they want, and almost insist on having it, but in a pious way of course. One poor old father would leave his deaf and dumb child on the altar, go outside of the church and make the journey up through the crowd on his knees to obtain through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, the favor of his child's cure, the crowd respectfully making way for him meanwhile. They pray magnificently; in fact the only people I ever heard pray like them are old Mrs. Roddy, old Aunt Peggy and the "Dutch womans" around the Mountain the one that had "two little boys" aged forty and forty-five not "the Mother of Mrs. Hopps who is sick."

Then there is such delightful primitive Christianity among them. They go sauntering about the Sanctuary as if they were Canons of the Church, telling the Madonna what they want, with their Italian : "Madonna mia, do give it to me, won't you? " While standing close to the altar trying to see like the rest of the world, I felt some one pulling at the skirts of my cassock and on turning around I found that an old woman wanted me to carry a "fip " to the little contribution box.

Yesterday five of the students were ordained Subdeacons, among them Gardner and Meriwether ... I wrote to my brother about Chatard. He may remain here, though since the death of the Archbishop I regard it as extremely doubtful. I had notified the Archbishop at least two years ago that I had given up the idea of asking for Silas (to be Vice-Rector of the American College), and had even applied to Bishop Bayley for Corrigan. Speculations are rife as to the successor of Abp. Kenrick, but it is very uncertain who he will be. I would not be surprised if it lay between Bishops Elder and Spalding and Rev. Mr. Foley, with a very good chance for the last named gentleman. We are all well at the College and if the Mountaineers knew I was writing I am sure they would desire to be remembered to their former President . . With kindest regards, etc . . .

The last public appearance of Archbishop Hughes was his address to the people from the balcony of his house on the 17th of July, 1863. He had been requested to do so by the Governor, in the hope of quelling the riots which occurred in consequence of the conscription. Of course none of the rioters were in the three or four thousand men who congregated there. The Archbishop's address was rambling and weak, although occasionally a few words or tones would show the old fire.

A few days before Christmas the physicians told some of the servants in the house that the Archbishop could not recover. On Tuesday, the 29th of December, Vicar-General Starrs and Father McNeirny informed him of the verdict. He looked from one to the other as in surprise : " Did they say so? " he asked, and spoke no more except in his confession. Our old friend, Father McElroy, S. J., came the next day, and on Wednesday he received the last Sacraments from his confessor, Rev. William Quinn. On Sunday morning, January 3, 1864, Father McElroy said Mass in his room, and at seven o'clock in the evening he passed quietly away while Bishop (Card.) McCloskey was reciting the prayers for the dying.

The remains lay in state in the Cathedral until January the 7th, which was the anniversary of his consecration, and the spot where the coffin was placed was the very one upon which he had knelt just twenty-six years before to receive that consecration, for the Mott St. Cathedral had been enlarged, and what was the Sanctuary in 1838 is now a part of the body of the Church. Eight bishops and nearly two hundred priests took part in the services. The funeral discourse was pronounced by Bishop McCloskey and Mass was celebrated by Bishop Timon. The neighboring streets were thronged by an excited crowd.

Dr. Henry A. Braun, of New York, wrote this epitaph on Arbp. Hughes:

Hie Jacet Joannes Hughes Hibernus Adoptions Aiaericanus Libertatis Civilis Defensor Inter Reipublicae Defensores lucet Miles Christi Bonum Certamen Certavit Zelo ardens pro Domo Dei Feliciter Pugnavit Scholarum Catholiearum Fundator et Propugnator Orator Facundus: Scriptor EximinB Turn ore turn calamo fidem defendit Sacerdos zelo ardens Praesul Prudens Archiepiscopus Designates Urbis hujus Metropolitanae Clero fulsit exemplar illustre Popnlo Dux Egregius Natus die 24 Junii 1797 Obiit Die 3 Januarii 1864 Requiescat in Pace.

When the mother of Father Henry Semple, '71, came to place her boys at the Mountain she met Dr. McCaffrey: it was just after the Civil War. She asked of a portrait, who was that fine-looking man in the bluish preaching stole. He replied, "That's Archbishop Hughes when we loved him." They had differed diametrically on the subject of Secession.

The College had years before freed its last bondsmen, but the testimony of those who had not done so is unanimous in the South that the negroes during all the frightful disturbances of the four years' conflict, and even after their emancipation, showed the noblest consideration for their unfortunate owners or ex-owners, and worked for and defended the wives and children whose husbands and fathers were absent in the army or had perished in battle. Most of the negroes around Emmitsburg were and are Catholics, and exemplary children of the Church.

Mgr. Dufly, Eenssalaer, N. Y., says that March 17, 1863, was the first time St. Patrick had a holiday at the Mountain, it being the Silver Jubilee of Dr. McCaffrey's induction as president.

May 9, 1863. In a letter to Father McMurdie, Orestes Agamemnon Brown-son, the renowned champion of the Faith, and who had lectured at the College, says that he condemns all the seven propositions banned by the Holy See in its decree then recently issued against the Ontologists, but adds, that although he at first thought he was himself struck at, he concludes that he was not. "I am no more an ontologist than I am a psychologist: my philosophy is synthetic and starts from the original synthesis of things."

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