The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1907-06-22
A MOTHERS PRAYER
a SEQUEL to 'Breaking Home Tic,

FRANK carroll, the great captain of industry,
was dying Having, by sheer force of native ab-
ty, raised himself from an obscure breaker bow to
commanding figure in the world of affairs he was
wont to be very frank in his dealings with his fell
ow-man SO when the nurses reticence aroused his
suspicious he sent for the old family physician and
demanded that the truth be told
We'll, regret to inform you, sir" the kindly
though blunt, doctor said that your hours are
numbered. The operation was successful. but blood
poisoning has set in destroying all hope of recov
cry"
With wonderful selfeontrol the magnate whose
name power on Wall street. smiled grimly
and prepared to face the inevitable. Though thor
oughly trained in Christian truth when boy at his
mothers knee he had learned to forget God in his
mad rush for wealth and power Having extin-
guished the last spark of faith in his soul by dev
ing into the materialstc literature so prevalent in
our day he had convinced himself finally that mans
destiny ends with the grave. His soul was indeed
helpless, hopeless rudderless wreck drifting aim
lessly upon the dark ocean of infdelity. Yet even
then there was at work force, sweet and strong
enough to soften the eternal justice of an angry
God, for nothing under heaven is so potent as
mothers prayer
The long June afternoon was drawing to a close,
and during the temporary absence of the trained
the patient turned YEARLY upon his pillow to
see the sun set for, perhaps his last time. A
dreamy stiffness was in the air if God had once
more blessed the beautiful earth. The western sky
abaze with resplendent glory; few feecy
clouds were floating in the mellow glow like fairy
ships upon golden sea-ships that soon would be
dismantled wrecks stranded upon the shores of
night. While the dying man watched fading from
the sky the light like his own fast-ebbng life,
the little children gathered in the village church
and began chanting the Litany in honor of the Sa-
cred Heart The present was instantly forgotten,
the singing Of that old familiar chant carried the
dying Tnagnates thoughts back to the mining ham
let of Harleigh where he had spent his happiest
days. He recalled the First Friday devotions
long ago, when he and his playmates assembled in
the wayside chapel to sing the praises of the Sa-
cred Heart and to recite the Rosary in honor of
Blessed Mother He recalled, too, his early strug-
giles breaker bov at the mines, and how the
cold water made his fingers ache the frosty win
ter days. He thought of his boyhood chums, many
of whom, after having attained success in other
fields had returned to marry their schoolgirl sweet
hearts and to bear them away to city homes. He
sighed at the remembrances of the noblest of them
all, Father Phil, who had met death upon the west
ern plains, martyr to his priestlv calling. He
called his little sister, with her wealth of sistery
affection, unlike any other love In this world
The old school days came back, days when he used
to help her climb the steep hill on the way to school
during the winter they lived at Drifton. He
called the moonlit night when he parted from his
sweetheart Katie, at Lattmer, little dreaming that
he would never see her again in this world. Poor,
gentle trusting Katiel He had not meant to break
her heart. If he had neglected TO write, 1t was
because he was busy building what he thought
would be their future home. But when he returned
to claim his bride and carry her off in triumph to
the mansion overlooking the great metropolis they
showed him her grave in the burial ground out to-
ward GAINESVILLE The world said he rolling in
wealth. but as he stood with barred head above that
green mound he felt himself poor indeed In all the
lonely after years, during which he surrounded
by the most beautiful bellies of society, his heart
had remained true to its early love.
Yet his deepest, longest thought of his dear
old mother Infide though he was, he had never
failed to send offerings for masses to his former
pastor now far far away for he felt that if there
we're hereafter. he wanted his mother to be happy
there. He recalled how she had called him to her
bedside the night she died, and laying her hand
upon his head had cried: 90 sweet Jesus, guide
and protect nv boy now and at the hour of DEATH"
This was the last arrow in memory's culver, and
it went straight home dispeling the dark clouds of
nfdeity gathered about the dying mans soul.
Overwhelmed by the awful doom which he now saw
impending the poor penitent whispered, in a voice
broken with sobs: 90 God, have mercy upon me a
.innerr The tired eyes closed in tears, a slight
remor shook the once powerful frame, the death
lew gathered upon the white brow and the poor,
hriven soul passed out into the night and into the
light while the children sang "Miserere nobls, Do
nine!"
James F. Gallagher, in Standard Union and
Times.