The San Francisco call., 1899-09-24

instead of a soldiers camp.
VIII he tell me something of himself2
l ask the question after | have resumed
my seat on the vacillating nail keg and he
has perched himself uncomfortably on the
corner of small brick platform that
forms the foundation for the inverted
castiron cone which does duty for a stove
on colder days, but L know my answer be-
fore he speaks
There IS ''reaIly nothing to tell" he
says, except the simple biographical facts
which are already known to all whom
they specially interest If 1 care for
them-very well. He was born in Bos-
ton, educated among the English resi-
dents of Prince Edward Island; went
into business here in California; awoke
to a sense of his vocation few years
later and studied for the priesthood over
in Santa Clara; took charge of parish
and then joined the army.
He pauSeS here and looks sympathetic
cally at wounded soldier stumping by
on crutches and carrying burden of pain
in the shape of a bare foot cushioned in
cotton. with a white heel sticking pathet-
cally out into the atmosphere.
"Your life surely did not end there?' L
say, suggestively. since IN ms interest IN
most forgotten me, and he smiles be
nignantly as. recalled to a sense Of my
think that there it really began.
"If you only would let me talk OF the
boys, now" he continues. ,S Il could I'd tel tel
half has not been said that ought to be
about their bravery on the field OF battle:
and their goodness, which IS the best est, KIND
of bravery everywhere, Let me tell you
how nobly they stood the strain of those
dreadful weeks in the trenches; how gall
Iantly they fought when the chance came.
and how loyal they were TO their country
and each other during all their time OF
trial.
He never tires of sounding the praises Of
'his boys" as he affectionately calls
them; but he will tell me nothing of his
own constant. encouraging and helpful
presence on the firing line, of the four
wounds which he received there, of the
dreadful days and nights that he spent in
Mia. nursing the patients, ministering to
them in the extremity of death, laying
them out with his own hands and going
to their graves with them when all others
fed from the poor bodies which they
deemed accursed
He will not tell me how all his salary.
except Just what he absolutely needed for
personal expenses has gone to his boys
for delicacies when they were sick or little
present helps in time OF trouble when
"f did not believe in the war at first
myself he says, but later l saw things
differently and now there seems to DE no
way but to carry it ont to the END.
government must subdue 1nsurrection
wherever it arises or it is unworthy the
did you go to the war because you
believed this?"
II went because I felt that my duty lay
with these''-he throws out an dll-em-
bracing arm toward the tents above US.
II went with them and ] have brought
most OF them back, praise God, and
now
"You will go again to your parish and
take up the work you left there?' He
shakes his head slowly.
my work there is over" he says, ana
then a soft Frightening comes TO his face,
as If it were touched with the transflgur-
ing glory of the sunset glow. Il am 60
ing back to- Manila as soon as possible,
for / know that my mission is there.
There are nearly 1000 people in the hos
pitals down In that place and no Catholic
priest to live among them and care for
them as feel that ought to do. There
are plenty here to do the work 1 shall
leave behind"
A boyish face surmounting a khaki
jacket and shadowed by a broad-brimmed
gray. felt hat obtrudes itself through
the door space.
Mat is worse. sir announces the new
conner, prefacing his interruption with
The military salute, which is this Tune as
much an excuse as a courtesy. and the
chaplain rises quickly.
Il must ask you to excuse me, ne says.
My successor has not yet appeared IN the
camp, nor will he ever, for as long as the
First California exists their chaplain be-
longs to them alone. -r,-1>-
FLORENCE MATHEsoN.