The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1911-12-30
TIE cAraoL1c BuLLErIN DEcEMBER %, oil

farther, and will not only relieve your
heart, but perhaps may mean the lift
Ing Of this curse from your life. Now,
let me tell your story for you,' he
went on gently. al she knelt down
once more. Your husband drinks
and starvation, or perhaps worse,
faces you. But your real sorrow lies
even deeper. You are thinking Of his
soul. for he has neglected the sacra-
ments for years, and you are thinking
OF your little son. Am right"
The Woman's eyes grew wide But
father, how did you know" she asked
IN amazement.
Father, Barry was silent How
could he tell her that her husbands
wrong doing was the talk of the par
ish, or that her own familiar, black
clad figure before the shrine of Our
Lady Of Pity told its too evident story
of restitution?
1T is true, father she went on,
after a pause, "and only God knows
how it will all end
Nov, you must not grow discour-
aged" the priest said, and his voice
was full of compassion I'VE will be-
gin novena today in honor of our
Blessed Lady. Go to her in your need;
she is a Mother and understands, as
no one save God Himself can, the sor-
rows Of a mother He raised his
hand in blessing, and with a new
peace in her soul Mrs Railway left
the confessional
The late afternoon dusk was deep
ening, and the silence that shrouded
the throne room of the King was only
| broken by the scarcely perceptible
click of the confessional slide, the
gentle sound telling of many prodi-
gals return to the arms of a loving
Father. A sweet peace, indicating the
near presence of God, emanated from
| the golden tabernacle and filled the
lpoor wife's soul with a consolation so
great that instinctively she felt it to
be the forerunner of a cross. IL when
| the cross comes into our life we could
see our Lord behind it, and realize
ders, how joyously we would bear it..
| But when it comes hidden under the
!. ugly guise of sin in one we love, we
| forget the sweeter thought in our pain.
| And yet before Our Lady's shrine
Mrs. Railway began her. noyena,
pleading her cause at the feet of that
Mother to whom no one has ever had
recourse in vain. With more than
usual fervor she repeated the beauti-
full prayer of st. Bernard, and then
with ightef1ed heart wended her
way home in the twilight.
But the grim reality soon dispelled
her happy moments. She found her
home cold and cherries, her little son
sobbing piteousiy, and her husband in
a drunken stupor by the bare freside.
All the hope and consolation that had
SO lately flooded her heart was swept
away. The future looked SO dark, was
lit possible there could ever come a
rift in the clouds? Her loathing for
!. the man at her feet grew SO strong
" that it seemed almost beyond her
/ strength even to pray for him. What
a towards part was his, to fall at the
first wind of adversely, without even
an effort to help the one who had
given her all for him!
And then she looked up over the
kitchen mantel, where only a few
days before she had hung picture of
the Sacred Heart, and softer inn
pulse crept over her. Christ would
listen to His Mothers intercession.
He who had never refused her any,
thing she asked for the souls He SO
tenderly loved. With little Michael
hushed now in her arms she made
her sacrifice. From that moment she
would forget self and offer all her
trials and heartaches for her hus.
bands conversion.
The days of the novena were pass
ing slowly, but with sweet, womanly
courage she kept her resolve and
crushed many bitter thoughts under
a smiling exterior, On the morning
j of the ninth day she knelt with child
like confidence at Our, Lady's feet.
/ AS she looked up at the pure face
bent so pityingly above her there was
/ dUSO1utc SCltdlAIy ia sACl ACnAl 1he1e
her prayer would be heard. 1t
seemed as though great stone had
been rolled from her heart, filling with
sunshine where all had been shadow
before She had thought her love for
her husband dead, but from its sepul-
. chre God called it forth and it pulsed
as of old through her being. The
same, and yet not the same, for
mingled with it was a pity and yearn-
ing more akin to mother love than
4 wifely affection As on that dreary
afternoon nine long days ago, her