The St. Mary banner., 1900-08-04
FRAN KILN, La, Aug. ith, il9n.

Ny Dear Theresa:
The ncrr mention OF Il pen during the long
warm rainy days has been enough to ir1i
tate one for who could calmly contemplate c
the nervous, jrky, rapid movement OF the
little instrument whose might has been dc
/ clared above and beyond the weapon that
has cut such figure IN the worlds history?
/ The thought was abhOrrcnt and SO. my dear,
while you have been dipping in the sea at
/ Virginia Beach and giving garden parties on
| the roof of the Princess Anne Hotel, have
neglected to send YOU Il letter because the
cxcrtiCn was too great. And there were 50
MANY things wanted to write to you about,
tool Alas! laZInc>s IS crime, for now,
yielding to it. have forgotten or rather til"
flavor has departed. | fully intended telling
you of the beautiful exhibition the Sisters
MariOntes of the Holy Cross Convent of st.
John gave on the 26th of June and which
reflected so much credit on the artistic talent
and patience of the teachers and >uch per
feet adaptibiiity on the part of the pupils.
Tn" large Auditorium was packed, one might
say. to SuffOcatiOn, and tins was the best
evidence of the appreciation the public
could give. But then the Convent ENhib-
tions are well attended, every year there is
scarcely standing room for everybody wants
to witness the pretty plays, hear the lovely
music and see the dear children rewarded
for the long, tireSomc days that have gone
before. Pretty soon now the Sisters will be
going down to the Mother House in New Or
leans for their annual retreat and we Will be
exceedingly anxious to know whether they
will be returned to H. rs they are beloved
d
dread to see them transferred to other fields
of labor.
1t seems always that 4 sad. lotc runs
through nv letters, dear Theresa that the
"set slow bcll' tolls ever. sound ling above the
dim of business or the merry chimes of plea
sure. and when it tollcd Lately there Were
Tears from hearts, for a heart asleep;
Tears from SORROWS deepest deep.
because Il noble woman. Il loving v lie, Il de-
voted mother had, soft and slow. from dark
ling earth set her feet towards that bourne
whence there is no return In the death
of Mrs. Helen johnson Gates, Franklin has.
indeed suffered loss. foi' never can TIE tr. c
the tender. the noble die that it is not Il
wound inflicted upon the whole community.
The virtue that rests halo-likc around one.
spares Il ray, tiny, maybe, but conveying
good, nevertheless, to those around-ennob
ling, encouraging, uplifting. And such vas
the life that has been tranSplanted to GOd's
brighter realm-Modcst and retiring Yet
strong and inspiring in the fulfilling OF lifc's
sternest requlremcnt -uil> wcrEIuS obeh-
iencc to duty-iou know those women,
Theresa, those sweet home bodies.
whose sphere seems so narrow to the rest
less ycarnines of New Woman, but whose in
fiucncc for all that is good scars, heaven
ward and is the fuiiillmcnt Of that doctrine
marked ont by the All.wi>e Fathct those
quiet women who. sit cnthroned and crown
ed 1T the domestic hearth and To whom lcal
subjects give such loving tllcgiauce-thosc
queens vino smile, NirWin. the broad realm
over which they reign at the heart burnnSs
of those who clamor for the rights of women
the camor comes dimly to their ears across
the murnuring streams. the fair fields. the
sun hills. of their royal domain of Home.
And such Il woman has passed from our
midSt-"Into the Eden where fajre>t of
tlowcrcts, and sweetest and rarcSt
Never shall fade away.
The gloomy day, OF rain are still upon
us with only an occasional fail day when
sun light and warmth hold sway. But we
are grumblers ail-at one time we have too
much dust, at another mud arouses our ire
while old Dame Nature calmly goes h'
way, as autOcratic as the DoWager Empires
of China ever dared to be.
1--WE still pine for tue perfect.
And catch only a glimpse of the blue
And weep when the clouds
Ven even that glimpse from view
While You are enjoying life by the sad SCI
waves cast a thought sometimes on you
friend whose lot is cast where ''thc rain rain
eth and there is never Il let up,
RACHEL ARDEN.