The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1912-05-25
Continued from page 81
A SHIP PASSED.

"Who, has been talking to you,
John? Or is it possible that you can
remember? You were a lad of five
or Whereabouts"
John smiled quietly.
'I can remember being adrift in a
little boat, and wondering where my
mother was. I think l have never
forgotten her completely I should
know her if I saw her" DR.. Ready
smiled at his earnestness.
"She has altered, too. Have you
thought of that?''
The answer came slowly, a trife
unwillingly he thought.
'No have not thought of that"
Then, with sudden animation, IT want
to talk to you about my plans, father.
About-my profession" he said, look
ing into the older mans face.
Fire away, John! Let's hear about
it. I have been waiting for you to
speak to me. When yo1've done I'll
tell you what I think. What is it to
be, my boy?" There was almost as
much anxiety as tenderness in his
tones, and John realized that he would
either crafty his foster-father's ambi-
tons for him, or disappoint his best
friend. The thought made him hest
tate for second, then he said simply
II should like to study medicine
father. To be a doctor like you.''
Like me! No, John. You must be
bigger man than I am; a better
equipped man, with a larger grasp of
your profession. think you will sue
ceed," he said, drawing the young
mans arm affectionately through his
own. They were standing by the rail.
The sun had set now and the twi-
light was now fading into night. From
the heart of the mist a light flashed
from time to time.
"There is the North Sands Light,
father!" exclaimed the boy, eve are
nearly home"
James Ready was silent for while,
then he laid his hand on the boys
shoulder.
NEARLY home, john" he said hus-
kily "I never get nearly home with
out thinking of that awful homecom-
ing fifteen years ago. There are things
a man never forgets as long as life
lasts"
John was silent Even he might
not dare to touch the old wound that
fifteen years had failed to heal But
DR.. Ready knew without any assurance
that the boy understood, and was
grateful for his mute sympathy.
The years that followed were busy
ones for the young man. DR.. Ready
saw him pass from one success to
another until he stood beside him one
ever-to-be-forgotten day in the great
hall of the University to receive the
diploma that bore witness to his sue
cess and permitted him to go forth
as healer of men. During this
time, too, Captain Bunting had laid
down his burden of years with the
record of a life we'll spent in the serv-
ice of his fellows. He had died in
harness, bringing his ship to port,
and sending in his papers according to
regulations, before responding to the
call.
FI think you will find everything
in order you won't have any trouble, -
he said. They were his last words.
His friend, DR.. James Ready, forsook
his rowing life when his old friend
dropped out, and went down to the
little Cornish village when DR.. John
Ready had settled himself behind a
neat little brass plate that yet was
absurdly too large for the house it
| adorned. He was in the first flush
of his enthusiasm:
II shall have lots of time for study
he said. "And I am going to settle
down to write my book. This place
just suits me; after the closeness of
London it is magnificent to be within
reach of the sea again"
And so the two men settled down.
with a demure Cornish maiden to
minister to their needs. In summer
days the blue waves came dancing
in over the silver sands that lay far
down below their little cottage at
the foot of the tall gray cliffs. Here
and there, in sheltered hooks, clus.
tered the fishermen's homes, hanging
seemingly between earth and sea, SO
that it seemed almost miraculous that
they could still cling in safety to their
rocky perches when the winter storms
ragged along the coast, and great an
CRY breakers Numbered and thumped
at their very doors. In primitive fash.
ion the two men rose early for their
morning stroll along the cliff or on
the sandy beach beneath. Sometimes
great liners passed by, like silent
spectres from another word, and DR.
Ready would stand motionless, with
his eyes glued to his old marine glass.
es searching for ships that he had
known in his seafaring days. Then
he would return home, and Dr. John
would devote his morning to study
or to his book, which was to be a
monumental work on surgery that
| would o1oafrifv tho world 0f Sc;onon