The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1874-07-26

cIteher even than that dream oil my tnree
children Oswald was a fine handsome boy Of
thirteen when saw him last and Ethel had
blooming checks and bright eyes, but the
fairest and brightest beloved of n / was my
little golden haired Nav. held her in my
arms when came away she clasped her soft
loving bands about my neck, her tender lips
kissed my cheek, and her little tears fell upon
my face.
Come back again soon," she whispered
| come back to love me-"
AN, Bertrand, in my sleep, in my dreams, l
feel again the touch of those innocent lips I;
those child-ike limpd eyes look into mine /;
my face burns where those tears fell, ard her
sweet voice calls to me, Come home soon'
wake and wish my torture ended, that might
die. 1t is fifteen years since held my child in
arms, yet she is ever the same to me. l cannot
fancy her grown altered, although know
she is child no more it is the bright golden
head and laughing face of babe that shines
before me and fortunes with it's tender
beauty. Alb, me- shall never see wife, child
rem, or home again ~
The young knights heart melted within
him, as the feeble voice murmured of those
beloved ones, and grew weaker day by day.
II had beautiful dream last night" said
Hubert Dacre to Bertrand, one morning. a.
saw my little May; she stood there near the
cell door, she beckoned meawith her hand.
Come home, dear" she said, "we are
weary of waiting but knew we should see
you again"
Take hope and courage" said the young
crusader, q God is good. You know not what
happiness may be in store for you. God
rewards magnifcently those who serve him
WELL"
And as the knight taught sublime lessons of
resignation and patience to the wearied cap
tive, they stole deeper and deeper day by day
into bis own heart. For the first time he saw
and felt their full beauty, and began to under
stand that nothing was worth living FOR save
heaven.
What would it matter after ALL" he said
one day to himself, " what would it matter if
my little span of life were spent here in cap
tivity, provided reach heaven in the end ~
Hard and bitter had been the discipline of
that young heart before such thoughts as these
came. After all, earthly glory, military fame.
high renown, were beautiful but what were
they to be compared TO the grandeur of the
man who has so far conquered himself as to
live only to do Gods will, no matter what it |
may be or where it may lead him TOT A new
happiness came to him-the happiness that
spEinss from perfect resignation-and the
voice that sang amidst the flowers grew
s~eeter and clearer day by day.
One morning as he was going to work the
Saracen chief sent for him. He was seated in
great state, surrounded by tho chief officers of
his household. Before him stood a noble
stranger wearing religious dress new to
Bertrand on the table there lay glittering
mass of gold.
Sir knight" said the 9aracen chief "your
ransom Is paid in all honor. You are free to
return home with this noble stranger, who has
come to seek you"
1t Is true you are Free said the stranger
81 have brought the ransom of many noble
knights, and have pledge for their safety
Some are here, others are imprisoned near
Aleppo l so now to free them will return
for you in a few days"
Tell me-" cried Bertrand, "did my mother
send this money Is she well az
Your mother sent; it, my son" replied the
stranger, gravely. She is well, for she is
now amongst the saints of God"
"Do you mean" he cried, chat she is dead"
Il who knew her cannot cali it dying" was
the reply. ~ like better to say that she is
gone home. Heaven, not earth, is the abode
for such souls rs hers
You are free FROM this moment" inter
rupted the chief. "You are no longer my
prisoner; but if you like to remain here until
your escort leaves the country, do So"
Bertrand bowed courteously and hastily
quilted the presence of the chief and his
officer. He had read the list of names of those
knights who were ransomed that of Hubert
Dacre was not among them. He went out
alone to the scene of his labors, the gorgeous
flower garden. lie wanted to stand under the
blue sky and realize tho fact that be was free.
Free as the wind that played with the
roses, once moro he could cross the sunlt seas,
once moro he could look upon the Helde, and
play in the grove. Never again would his
mothers gentle eyes gaze upon him, mover
would her dear voice utter tender words and
blessings but She he knew, had gone home
to rest"
He said nothing all that day to the sick