The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1906-07-14

that doesn't mind being out of the lime
light of fame, that doesn't care for APP
plause, that isn't asking for celebrity
that isn't looking for personal emolu-
ments but who is doing his duty-do-
ing it as he sees it, as God sees it, and
as the grateful Irish immigrant girl
sees it, and knows it, and feels it, and
appreciates it.
And there is ends. Yes. what Father
Henry does, and what his faithful as
sistants help him to do never gets
above the Battery. Nobody hears of it
or knows of it. Nobody drives down to
ask or inquire for anybody, no cards
are received, no carriages drive up to
leave gifts of flowers, no newspapers
print the doings, no popular sentiment
insists that it must know the Mis-
sion is getting on. That is working in
the Lords vineyard under the HILL"
out of sight, unknown so far us the
masses of the people are concerned, I'M
thought of. unrcmemoered, untalkcd of.
But the dizzy seasck, crying Irish girl
knows; she doesn't forget; she doesn't
overlook it; she carries away with her
TO her new home an everlasting recol-
lection of the first night spent on
shore and in it figures the earnest sim
cere, blue-eyed priest, whom she saw
when she was craning her neck, look
ing for her friends, and who took her
under his care when she would have
burst her heart in fear and dsappoint-
ment.
\ large dOrmitory-duly supervised
by gentle, tender wOmen-is attached
10 the Mission. and a good table and
the best of care. Not Il penny To pay.
The girl keeps her money. There is no
charge. The Lord never asked How
much money have you got, or how
much can you afford to let us lllve?"
Neither does Father Henry. To do that
would disgrace the Church, and dis
grace New York. and disgrace the
United States. Mercy, compassion, hu-
man affection, sympathy consolation,
comfort-thosc are gifts. not sales %
barter.
You wouldn't pick Father Henry out
for an orator, but the oratory of Il
warm hand-casp, Il kindly word, an
encouraging smile. such as u sobbing.
heartbrokcn immigrant girl needs more
than she needs the blarney of fine
speech-I'ather Henry gives her that,
and he sees that she has something to
eat. Il pure, clean, comfortable place to
sleep. Il chapel wherein to say her
prayers, Il priest whercto to commit her
condolences.
OF himself Father Henry hasn't q
word to say. He feels that there is
nothing personal to be said, so much is
there to be told of those who come to
these shores annually by the thousands
for whom he is everything that his
Church demands that he shall be; and
the Church demands that he shall be
x
that their pressing and imperative
needs demand. And after all, what is
there to be said of such IL man, such a
priest as that? Surely it is not for me
to compliment him; to say nice things
of him: to palaver him; to hold him
up for your appreciation. There's moth
inn I'm, hpt IL, ~
and you know it. Late at night, when
he is sitting in that little Office, the
eastcrly gale whipping up the coast in
fury. torrents of pclting rain flashing
the windows. and from above stairs
comes the sound of many Sleepers,
oblvious to all that is going on with
out: when the great gay world of New
York. away up the island, is busy with
its pandemonium of pleasure; when he
is what we are used to speak of as
alone. methinks there is something
reaches his heavy ears that is unlike
all the sounds in all the world: and If
YOU were to ask him what IT is. good,
HfdctiCitl fatner fienfN would nave 10
tell you-honcst and candid that he Is
that it is something he wouldn't give
for the wealth of Wall street: that he
wouldn't part with in exchange for all
the honors man can bcstnw: that he
wouldn't be without for any condition
in life that is possible of attainment.
I'll not give ii IA name: won't attempt
to. 1t is nameless scnsiblity. You
don't know 1t. | don't know it. Nobody
knows it but the one for whom II Ia
meant But ii is Il complnionship that
SURPRISES human imagination-thc
rOmpanonShip that over 1,S0O years
ago was promised in words that read
something like this: That, "lnasmuch
as ye have done ii unto the least of one
of these We have done it unto Me"
And then the good priest seeks his
couch and his reposc: and he sleeps as
no Nero, no Napoleon no Alexander, no
Hannibal and no Croesus ever slept
Il sleep that makes the storm swept
Battery as fair and fragrant as Il per-
fumed isle.
O'ConneiPs Monument in Rome.
There are many monuments in
Rome dear to Irishmen for one reas-