The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1900-05-26

the flouriShing corner saloon, bad huff
pushing and prying into folks bust
ness but when these ere Romanists
begin to shove. there amt nothing kin
! stand agin 'em. Why. there's that
young devil, Jack Kent, as seemed
nachally born for the gallus! I'll be
everlastingly blowed if he didn't bring
me back twenty cents yesterday, that
he said he stole from my till last year
actually brought it back" and Mr..
Denver took his pipe out of his mouth
and NODDED his big, bloated head i'm
pressively. When boys begins to ~
unnatural things like that there must
be somthin' wrong, we all know"
Nevertheless, in spite of popular pre-
JUDGE the little mission chapel held its
own. Every Saturday evening Father
Lawrence heard confessions; every
Sunday there was Mass; three times a
week Sister Raph gathered her little
band around her, and taught them,
prayed with them, read to them, sang
to them, with angelic patience and gen
tleness worthy of her name. And now
there seemed to be a reward of her
labors near, for ten of her class of
twenty were preparing for first COM
munion.
Il don't know about Jack Kent, ."
Father Lawrence had said, doubtfully.
He is only twelve, and might wait a
=
very bad name"
20, Father" had pleaded Sister Raph
her sweet face flushing earnestly, he
needs Our Lords help so sorely, for he
has no one else; don't put off poor
Jack"
And SO, in spite Of a late encounter
with the Rats, in which Nick Denver,
jr., had been sent staggering home
with black eye, Jack remained, to sit
Oh CT Wit
breathless interest to "Fabiola, with
which beautiful story Sister Raph en-
liVened and illustrated her instructions.
She had introduced her restless little
hearers to the wonderful Church of the
Catacombs. They had become familiar
with SYRIA and Agnes, Sebastin and
Pancratius, and now the gentle teacher
was reading them the story of Tarcisus,
the little acOlyte who had died in de-
Tense of the Blessed Sacrament, which
he was bearing through the streets of
Rome as Viaticum to the imprisoned
martyrs.
That's fine" was the clamorous YER
dict when she finished Read that
story agin, Sister, read it agin."
Sister Raph read it "agin,' adding,
as usual, little practical lesson
adapted to her hearers needs.
"Of course, dear boys, nothing like
this could happen in these, our days,
but very soon you viii have the same
privilege as the little Tarcisius, for on
your communion day you will bear the
same hidden Lord in your breast. Re
member, dear children, like the little
Roman martyr, to guard Him from all
insult; let no wicked thought or word |
or deed, above all, no blows or fights |
or Quarrels, profane that holy day, |
when God Himself viii be present with
in you" And the speakers soft eye !
fell perhaps unconSciOuSly, upon the |
curly-headed young sinner at the foot J
of her class. Remember that each |
one of you must be a little Tarcisius !
on your first communion day"
1t came at last, that beautiful morn, |
and there were white lilies on the lit |
tie mission altar, and the good Sisters |
sent their choicest linen and most |
beautiful ornaments, and sweet-voiced |
pupils from the convent sang the first |
hymns And Jack, who |
had been taken in hand for the occa-
sion by old Granny Mulligan and |
scrubbed and combed with Celtic Wig |
or. appeared in a whole jacket, spick |
and span shoes, and his first linen col
lar, with a strange, sweet look of rev.
erence on his bright, boyish face that
made Sister Raph's heart glad.
And what Jack felt or thought or
learned that beautiful morning none
can say.
"Who was that smallest chap this
he with the brown eyes and
curly hair?" asked Judge Wythe, the
founder of the chapel, as he and Faith
er Lawrence sat at breakfast.
"That was Jack Kent" answered
the priest, with a smile. Zone of Sis
ter Raphs small prodigals. Has made
a bad record so far, but she has great
faith in him."
He has a fine head" The Judge
sighed as he thought of just such an
other curly head, that lay under a
marble mausoleum in the cemetery.
Il have been thinking of what you once
said to me, Father that there are me-
MORALS to the dead better than wood
Or stone.
"Since my own boy has been taken
from me, 1 feel that l would like to
give some poor young chap the world
has no place for my boys chance-this
little fellow you speak of, for in
Jack Kent" exclaimed Father Law
renee, in dismay. MY dear friend,
your resolve is a noble one, but l beg
IF you to be judicially slow in the mat
.er. And Jack Kent! My dear Judge,
Tack Kent would not suit you at all.
He is a regular firebrand, snatched