# The Venerable Don Bosco, the Apostle of Youth/Chapter II

CHAPTER II
EDUCATION. VOCATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. ORDINATION
In April, 1826, when John was eleven years old, a mission was given by some renowned preachers at Buttigliera, a small town in the vicinity. Crowds from all the neighboring parishes attended, and among them the aged and saintly Cure of Murialdo, Don Calosso. As he was returning home one day he observed a little boy walking along the road in deep reflection.
"What is your name, my child?" he asked.
"John Bosco, padre mio," was the reply.
"And you come to hear the missionaries?" questioned the Curé, with a smile. "Very likely your mother could give you a sermon better suited to your capacity."
"That's true, sir," said John, with glowing face; "but I like to hear the missionaries, too."
"Now, my little one," said Don Calosso, in a challenging voice, "I will give you three pence if you will repeat four sentences of the last sermon."
This had been one of the most forcible sermons of the mission, "The Danger of Delay in Conversion." John paused a moment as if to gather up the divisions of the discourse and put them in order. Then clearly and without embarrassment, he gave almost word for word the exordium, the ​three points, and the conclusion. Don Calosso was surprised and delighted, and asked him if he would not like to study.
"My brother Anthony says it is useless waste of time for a peasant; but I would like to learn if I could."
"And have you ever thought of being a priest, my son?" persisted Don Calosso.
"I think if I knew enough myself," John answered modestly, "I should like to instruct poor neglected children and preserve them from wickedness."
The cry of his angelic soul was already mounting up to God: Da mihi animas: caetera tolle! the prayer of St. Francis of Sales, the beloved Missionary-Bishop and Doctor of the Church—the prayer which was one day to be the watchword of his great triple Society of Salesians, engraved on their hearts, in all their utterances, stamped on their documents and books, and carved in golden evidence over their world-wide homes.
Eleven years old! The mystic dream had already become an incentive, a hope, a great desire in that young heart—a desire that burned more ardently the more it was repressed. But God was on his side. Don Calosso was not long in arranging matters with Margaret, and he himself became the boy's teacher. John's brothers were strong in opposition; but Margaret declared stoutly: ​"Divine Providence will assist us; certainly John was never intended for the plough."
John had begun to attend a public school at a distance, walking several miles a day to and from the village. But the complaints of Anthony at last forced him for the sake of peace to relinquish his studies and resume his daily labors on the farm. However, the charge of the cows and other animals being left to him, his book was his inseparable companion while guarding them. Don Calosso gave him lessons in the early morning after Mass; and John, his daily labors at an end, studied and wrote his exercises at night. Poor boy! is it a wonder that his whole heart went out in sympathy to all the neglected boys in this great wide world?
The saintly Curé laid a solid foundation of study and doctrine in his youthful disciple; but in two years he was summoned to his eternal reward, leaving John without a guide. This trial, however, did not last long. Anthony, the step-brother, coming of age, a division of the property was made; and Margaret and her two sons, Joseph and John, separated from him, taking a smaller house. This gave John his liberty; and he joyously resumed his regular studies, making a specialty of Latin. In 1831 he entered the college at Chieri, and pursued with ardor the courses of science, literature and art; but his favorite studies were history, oratory, and the Sacred Scriptures.
​A desire to enter a religious order now began to agitate the young student. He laid open the state of his soul to Don Cafasso, the holy director of the Ecclesiastical Institute of Turin, where he studied; enlightened by the Holy Spirit, his wise guide, in admiration of the ways of God over this soul still in its baptismal innocence, after prayer and examination, answered decisively: "My son, enter a seminary and finish your studies. I think you are called by God to be a good parish priest."
John followed his counsel: he pursued his studies more earnestly than ever, especially philosophy and theology, and with phenomenal success, for his soul was steeped in the abundance of God, and he learned more in Holy Communion, where the divine Light flooded his soul, than he did from his professors and books.
But the great day for which he had so long sighed and so fervently prepared came at last, and John Bosco was ordained a priest of the Most High on June 5, 1841, the eve of Trinity Sunday, by the Archbishop of Turin, Msgr. Louis Franzoni. On Corpus Christi there was universal rejoicing in his native village of Castelnuovo, for there he celebrated that sacred feast, bearing the Blessed Sacrament in solemn procession through its festive streets, in the midst of an adoring multitude.
Three excellent livings were offered to the newly ordained priest. Consulting Don Cafasso anew, he was answered: "You should complete ​your course of moral theology and your preparation for the pulpit: give up all thought of benefices for awhile and come here." Don Bosco obeyed, and remained in the Institute for two years devoting himself to the higher studies in divinity. In intervals of intellectual labor, he accompanied Don Cafasso to the prisons, where each new scene of crime and punishment was to him a tragic revelation. The number of the prisoners, their moral misery and, more than all, the tender youth of many, astounded him and wrung his heart with pity. These children were orphans or the children of vicious parents; many of the boys would end—where? On the scaffold. This terrible thought haunted Don Bosco day and night, and strong and prevailing prayers went up to God and His Holy Mother for light and strength to help them, while, to render his petitions more effectual, he inflicted upon himself severe fasts and bodily penances.
The Venerable Don Cottolengo, one of Turin's most saintly apostles, met him one day and invited him to the great Hospital for youth he had founded. Don Bosco was moved to the soul at the sight of the sufferers, and spoke words of comfort on his way. As he was taking leave the Venerable Cottolengo, pressing the sleeve of his coat, said: "Your coat is too thin. Get one of stronger stuff, for a time will come when you will be pulled about by a great many boys."