The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1904-11-19

vices are worth anything to me can
possibly give you steady employment.
What do you think?''
''That you are installing me for an
adventures. Good day, SIR" Jet re-
piled Indignantly as she moved toward
the door. Before the astonished law
yer realized what had happened she
had left the Office and stepped into a
descending elevator.
The three remaining letters brought
little better results and the girl turned
wearily toward home. Could it be
possible that self-respecting girls We're
not wanted in great industrial Chi
cago? Were all business men as
coarse and cold and cruel as those she
had interviewed the past few days?
These We're the questions she asked
herself over and over again as she
tossed half the night on her little
couch bed in the back hall room at
the boarding house. Her ineXperience
caused her to take gloomy view Of
the matter at first. But before sleep
closed the tired eyes the little philos-
opher from Minnesota was wondering
at her own foolishness in expecting so
much good luck almost the first day in
the city. Tomorrow would be another
day and another opportunity, and this
comforting thought sent her away into
happy dreamland where she played as
in childhood with Tom and Gerald on
the banks of the Mississippi
Next day Jet called at the office of
a large publishing house and was for
tunate in obtaining the promise of Il
position as office assistant at 81 per
week, with a prospect of raise in
salary as soon as her experience war
ranted it. Her duties We're to begin
on Monday, and this was Saturday.
OH, the JOY of it! None but working
girl who has had similar experience
can realize how big that 81 seemed to
the unsophisticated girl. And how
nice it would be to live in Chicago!
All, little Jet, what could you know of
the heartaches and loneliness and the
constant struggle to live within means
that is the inevitable lot of the self
dependent woman in Il big city whose
salary is not above 81 per week? The
''single" room in the cheap boarding
house and the pathetic little ward
robe behind the door had no terrors
for you as yet.
A flood of glorious sunshine was
streaming into her room when Jet
opened her eyes Sunday morning The
night before she had decided to arise
at 6 o'clock in order that she might
have plenty of time for visit to the
cemetery before attending high mass
at the cathedral. But now the hands
of the clock pointed to 9:45 and she
would have to defer the visit until the
afternoon, as she would barely have
time to get ready for mass. However,
but few moments sufficed for the
modest toilet and hasty bite of break
fast, and as the boarding house was
but square distant from the church,
she was in her seat fully quarter of
an hour before the service was begun.
And what revelation was the cathe-
dral of the Holy Name! The whole
beautiful interior, the far famed paint
ings, the sculptored stations of the
either transept-these caught and held
the admiration of the receptive girl
until the church filled up and the
priests and acolytes assembled before
the high altar. The impressive cere-
mony appealed strongly to her imagi-
nation, yet through it all, even at the
solemn moment when the Host was
elevated and the sanctuary became
suddenly ablaze with electricity, the
heart of the Minnesota girl was wor-
Shipping in an old fashioned gray stone
church in st. Paul, the old cathedral,
where she had been wont to bring
every joy and sorrow of her young life
to lay them at the feet of the Crucifed
One. All, that dear old cathedral!
Who that has known it has not loved
it? And who that has known and
loved it as Jet did will calmly endure
to see it RACED to the ground in order
that more beautiful and commodious
temple in a more aristocratic location
may arise to accommodate a newer
and, perhaps, less sentimental genera
ton? But as in the march of progress
the old must ever give place to the
new, it is consoling to know that the
new cathedral promises to be a glory
to st. Paul and to Catholicism every
where and a fitting monument to the
character Of the grand man who
planned it.
Jet had no difficulty in locating the
handsome monument that marks the
Typographical burial lot in Calvary.
One mound, greener than the others
and bearing profusion of orange
colored blossoms, attracted her atten-
ton ut once Instinctively she walked
toward it and was not disappointed,
for there, indeed. on the little granite
slab at his head was the beloved name.
But who could have kept Toms grave
in such beautiful order? And Toms
and her own favorite flowers, too!
Gould If havn hann Gernld2 Rrt Eo,,.