Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1899-05-27

| sions that leave~no outward scar. After
years of commission and revelry therein the
eye g.eams as bright and sparkling, the lip
| is stu carmine and humid, and the blood
still bounds with joyous, healthful splurge
from heart to lung.
Here the aid of the physician can we'll be
dispensed with. No need is there to pour
humiliating confession in his ear But the
| soul Is black with the leprosy of sin.
To the believing Catholic there exists but
| one way in which it can be cleansed. The
sin-steeped soul must be saved and purified
| again by the holy sacrament of penitence.
| Whose sins We shall forgive they are for
given, whose sins ye shall retain they are
retained
| In the solemn tribunal of the confessional
| the priest man exists no longer He is
| there as the fleshly representative of Christ
whose mouthpiece he becomes when he
| pronounces the mighty words "absolve'
etc.
Imagine, then, my friends the magnitude
and the multitude of the terrible condolences
which pass each day through that middle
man, the priest, to the ear of the a!l-sufer-
ing Christ.
There is no Discrimination in the confess
sion as it flows from the remorse- wrung
soul of the repentant sinner to the ear of
his all-merciful God.
Gentlemen, l shall now tell you the story
of my first penitent.
1t is the one episode of my life which in
all the worlds to come l believe l shall
never forget.
He poured into my ear the particulars of
crime so atrocious. murder so inhuman
and appalling in the unnatural and treach-
erous circumstances of its committal, that
| for weeks after l mad heard 1t l suffered
the agCnies of the damned. In fact, l was
on the eve of leaving the church in order
to be able to divulge the secret. 1t seemed
to ME so terrible that my solemn oath and
| duty as priest should prevent me from
delivering to justice the perpetrator of so
horrible murder.
| For days and weeks an awful struggle
went in batw binding
| duty of silence as the minister of God, and
what | believed to be my duty as a man to
the state There were times when almost
| resolved to leave the church and give the
man up to justice. Finally, one hot August
night, when almost on the verge of insani-
| ty from the agony Of the prolonged mental
| struggle, as | sat at my window feVerishly
| turning the thing over and over again in
| my mind, divine inspiration touched my
soul with it's balm.
1t said: why not go to your bishop, and.
| without mentioning names or betraying
| condolences, explain all to him.
SHIFT the responsibility of decision from
| your young, inexperienced soul to the calm,
| clear Judgment and ripe experience of his.
obey him-that is all.
| Next morning | FASTENED to the bishop,
and in long private interview | explained
everything to him, dwelling particularly on
the great temptation and desire which
| seemed urging me on to expose the Grim
nal.
| After hearing all the bishop told me,
there could be no release from my duty as
| the consecrated priest of God. That duty
bound me solemnly to keep forever the Sc
| cret of the confessional. Should l break
| my VOW of silence, that moment | fell from
| the high estate of Gods ministry, and
| would be accommodated from the mem
bership of the church.
In conclusion, the bishop said to me ::
Leave the sinner in the hands of him who
has said, Justice is mine
Gentlemen, | Obeyed and every day of
| my life | thank God that did so.
Just then the dining door swung
| open, and Mr.. Van Doran, the long-detain-
| ed host, appeared on the threshold. AS he
stood there a moment, beaming his
| guests, he presented a picture of perfect
manhood. Six feet. broad shOudered and
magniticently built, handsome. we'll groom
| ed and well preserved, he looked just what
| he Was-the prosperous, happy, contented
man of the world.
Fastening toward his old friends. he
| passed around the table and warmly grasp
| ed and wrung each proffered hand mean
| while apologizing profusely for his unavoid-
able delay In joining them
Finally he reached F'r. dArcy's chair.
| which was beside his own, and throwing
his arm with affectionate abandon around
the priests shoulders, he said: You will
| forgive me, father, | know you will, for
you have forgiven me many things. Gen
| tlemen, l was FIR. dArcy's first penitent.