New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1872-11-24
a Mission in the Wilderness.

heard a bell swing jubilantly. Out over
the solemn sea, up and down that foam
crested shore, rang the sweet Angelus. One
may pray with some tervor when ones
journey is at an end. When the prayer was
over | walked to the gate OF the chapel
ward, and at that moment a slender figure.
clad all in black, his long robes flowing
gracefully about him, his boyish face height
ening the effect of his grave and serene de-
meanor, his thin, sensitive hands held forth
in hearty WeIcome-a welcome that was al
most like benedietion, so spiritual was the
love which it xpressed-came. out, and L
found myself in the arms of Pore FldeIis,
feeling like one who has at least been per
mitted to kneel upon the threshold OF his
Mecca.
Why do our hearts sing jubilate when we
meet a friend for the first time3 WHAT is it
within us that with it's lifelong yearning
comes suddenly upon the all-sutf1clent one,
and in moment is crowned and satisfied?
| could not tell whether l was at last wax
ing from sleep or just sinking into
dream. | could have sat there at his feet
contented; could have put Oft my worldly
cares, resigned ambition, forgotten the past,
and, IN the blessed tranquility OF that hour,
have dwelt ,joyfully under the palms with
him, seeking only to follow in his patient
footsteps until the end should come.
Byhappy fortune Sunday followed when
the Chapel of the Palms was thrOnged with
dusky worshippers; not white face present
but the fathers and mine own, yet com
mon trust in the bleesedness of the life to
come struck the keynote of universal har-
mony, and we sung the "Magniticat' with
one voice. There was something that
fretted me in all this admirable experience.
Pere Fidels could touch neither bread nor
water until after the last mass. Hour by
l, fa3D EDitA ut the
heroic fortitude that sustained his tamlshed
body.
lion pcre,' said l, you must eat or go
to heaven betimes." He would not. ~ gu
must end with an earlier mass, persisted.
1t was impossible; many parishloners came
from miles away; some CT these started at
daybreak, as it was, and they would De IN
able to arrive in season for an carrier mass.
Excellent martyr. thought |, to offer thy
body living sacrifice tor the edl1cauon OF
these savage Christians. AT last he ate, but
not until appetite itself had persisted. Then
troops of children gathered about him
clamoring to kiss the hand OF the prlestIy
youth; old men and women passed him
with heads uncovered, amazed at the deyo-
ton of one they could not hope to emulate"
Whenever | referred to his life he at once
led me to admire his fellow apostle, who
was continually in his thoughts. Pere
Amabilis was miles away, repairing chapel
that had suffered somewhat in late gale;
Pere Amabilis would be so glad to see me; |
must not fail to visit him; and tor fear OF
some mischance Pere Fidelis would himself
conduct me to him.
While we were riding a herald met US
bearing a letter for mon pere. 1t was a
greeting fromPere Amabihs, who announced
the chapel as rapidly nearing its complete
restoration. Pere F'idelis nearly wept for
IL. %olIS hrv1.- 14Ea u
panegyric upon the unriyaled ingenuity OF
his spiritual associate. We we're sure to
surprise him at work, and this trifling cpl
sode seemed to be an event OF some im
pOrtance in the isolated life they led.
At sunset we passed into the open vale OF
Wailuanui, and saw the chapel looking
fresh and tidy on the slope of the hill
toward the sea. Two waterfalls that fell
against the sunset flashed like falling fame,
and soft haze tinged the slumberous soli-
tudes of wood and pasture with the dream
like loneliness of picture. There seemed
to be but one sound audible-the quick,
sharp blows of hammer. Pere tldehs
listened with eyes sparkling, and then rode
rapidly onward.
Behold from the chapel wall, high up on
a scatfolding of boughs, his robes gathered
about him, his head uncovered, and ham
mer in hand, Pere Amabilis leaned forth to
welcome us. Inc DdnLueI I6ll 10 GL5 ttal III
Ppre Amabilis lOOsened his skirts and
clasped his hands in unaffected rapture
We we're three satisfied souls, asking for
nothing beyond the hem of that lonely val
ley in the Pacific.
/ learned something of the life of these
two friends during that evening Born III
the same city in the north OF France, reared
in the same schools, graduated from the
same university, each fond of life and ac-
| -;-j, FDIl oh in TN
| stricken with an qllness Shab threatened
! death. together they came out of the dark
J valley with their future consecrated to the
work that now absOrbs them, the friendship
| of their childhood increasing with. then
! wears and sustaining them in remote land
where their SOW of poverty seems almos
! like sarcasm, since circumstance deprlveE
| them of all IuXuries.
! DO YOU never long for hOme2 do yot
| never regret your voW!' / asked.
! .'Neverl" they answered. and believe
! them. These old people are as parents t
us; these younger ones are as brothers anc
! sisters; these children we love as dearly q
!, though they were our own. What more cal
! we ask!'
What qrore. indeed? With the rain beat
! ing down upon your unsheltered heads, an'
the torrents threatening to engult you; fain
! with iourneyings, and hungered often; veal
with Hastings; pallid with prayer-Wha
more can you askE say l.
The parting from these friends was a
cruel as death. Pere FideIis was pale
than ever; be caught his breath as thong
there wasn't much of it, and the littl
J there was wouldn't last long. Pere Anna
bills wiped his spectacles and looked III
terly forsaken; the natives stood about il
awkward, silent groups, coming forward
one by one to shake hands, and then fall
ing back like so many automatons. Some
how, genuine grief is never graceful; it fol
gets to pose itself; its muscles are perfect,
slack and unreliable.
In the proem to this idyl | seem to see tw
shadowy figures passing up and down owe
| = lonesome land. Fever and famine do NO
stay them; the elements alone have pOwe
to check their pilgrimage. Their advent
hailed with joyful bells-tears tall whe
they depart-their paths are peace. FeaI
lessly they battle with contagion and are d
hand to closesthe pestIlential lips OF uncIea
death. They have lifted my soul abov
things earthly and held it secure for a mi
ment. From beyond the waters my heal
returns to them. Again at twilight, ove
the still sea, floats the sweet Angelua; agai
| approach the chapel falling to slow decay
there are fresh mounds in the churchyarl
and the voice of wailing is heard for
passing soul, BY and by, if there is wor
to do, 1t shall be done, and the hands sha
be folded, for the young apostles will hay
followed in the silent footsteps of the
flock.