Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1906-02-24
FATHER LOUIS'S JOYOUS END.

/ lie is old, as old as the tiles on the
roof CT his house. built the year he was
born. They were baptized the same day.
he small and frail in his long robes
it solid proud of its beauty showing
with pride its white walls against the
dark green pines lie has never quilted
/ it since. Age has bent him, but the house
still stands straight, yet the infirmities
and the fading colors of age are visible
on both; white hair, gray moss, wrinkles,
cracks and creviccs. Between people and
things there is a natural adaptation; one
need rot lie :, snail Without carrying
| it On his back, mem adapts himself to
the roof which covers him When Father
Louis is sitting on the bench under the
old cherry tree beside his door and smok
inc his pite, vi &c lie watches the sun
sinking. into the valley one cannot i'm
iagine another figure seated there.
For so many years he has been there,
wearing the same black felt hat. the same
clothes of brown homespun, leaning on
the same stick. Little by little his eyes
have dmmed, his head sunk, his back
bent. but his smile has remained sweet,
and if his hands trembe, they do not
press less cordially the hands of the
neighbors who come in the evening to
have a chat or pass gayly on their way
to work or to the market.
Good evening, Father Louis. How are
you getting onf'
Thank You, as we'll as an old man cam.
II have nothing to complain Of thank
God! and you. my friend, are things going
ON, ,ol1 With nd family -,
He knows them all, has seen them all
born Up here we all know each other.
One lives very quietly, one works hard,
and dies in the faith of ones fathers
Ancient pines, simple people, humble
dwellings, peaceful hearts.
Are you the doctor?" asks a man,
stopping me in the darkness.
Yes, l am. What do you want with
me-"
1T is for Father Louis. was coming
come this way. 1T has showed all day
and the road is not oFen or easy to find,
and in this cold 1t would be dangerous
to lose ones way
How long has he been ~
Since this afternoon. 1t came upon
him suddenly, like faintness, and he is so
Olti Unit W. Elt WY AHAiOuS.
Good let us hurry"
1t is 10 o'clock; the deep snow crackles
under our feet; the sky has cleared, and
the pale, thin crescent of the new moon
is rising behind the dark SUBMITS of the
tall trees In the distance a fox yelps,
and between the dark tree trunks twinkle
below the lights of the sleeping villages
Everywhere solitude, peace, the mystery
of the woods at night.
IT is beautiful December night. the
last of the year, which is departing. care
less of the joys it has brought as of the |
tears it has made to flow A solemn
night, this last of the year; curtain
which falls, a curtain which rises; behind
remembrance; before. the unknown. Yes
terday, tomorrow and tomorrow, of what
will they be made?
a dog barks. Here is the dwelling of |
Louis, dark spot on the light back |
ground of little clearing ON the slope
of the mountain. My guide looks through |
which is brightly lighted.
I'VE are in time" he exclaims. II see
him move"
He places his stick against the wall, |
shakes the snow from his heavy nailed |
SilOCS III - lHC ltibCii VI d. ubOl. W Icii
creaks on its hinges. At the sound an
other door opens, sending flood of light |
into the dark passage
This way, sir, please come in" cries a |
woman's voice.
On a large bed hung with blue and
white curtains lay my patient, very pale, |
his eyes closed A woman was sitting
beside him and reading aloud from a large
book with red edges; two men were |
standing hat in hand; listening. At my
entrance Louis opened his eyes:
Il am sorry to have disturbed YOU, sir: |
it was not worth while to come so far
and So late; medicine can do nothing for |
old age; Wien the timc comes one must |
go. These good people do not believe it /:
they We're frightened and sent for YOU
without telling me-
You do not seem to be very ILL.," I
said, as, taking a seat by his side, | felt
his pulse.
Sick, no-but old. Old nuts have also
4 solid she'll and if the lamp is not of
glass nothing indicates that the oil is
nearly burned out; AID my oil is nearly
spent, l feel"
How old are you, Father Louis ?"
Eighty in an hour, doctor | was born
with the century on st. Sylvester. just
as the bells We're ringing out the new
year We have grown old together. the
century and /; it will run its course. Il
have finished mine"
He was silent few minutes, then look
ing me in the face, he said:
What does my pulse say, doctor
Shall last till the new year?"
l hesitated; the pulse was rapid. very
weak, sometimes intermittent, the skin
cold and damp. the voice broken-truly
the oil in the lamp was nearly spent.
1T is finished, is it not? I am certain
of it. Fanehette was reading to me the
prayer for the dying. l have often read
it to prepare myself; it is good reading,
doctor, useful all ones life. am not
afraid of death, but should like to hear
/ tho holIs rDcn ,,oro