The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1912-08-10
/ have been so busy / haven't

had time.
He took up the little book and
glanced over the lesson. Ted, a child
who seemed all nerves, hoped about
delightedly, explaining:
This is the last lesson. | have
finished the catechism, Joe. / can say
the long answer, the last in the book,
hevery bit of it. Hear me, Joe,'' and he
ratified off glibly: What doth it
profit a man if he gain the whole
world and suffer the loss of his soul,
for his Soul?'" etc.
Joe tried to keep sober face as his
small brother recited the words, stand
ing on one foot and then on the other,
or dancing about, words almost mean
ingless to him now, but which would
perhaps come back to him some day
with strong significance-"What doth
it profit man."
In the afternoon Joe wandered into
the woods alone, happy in his bright
dreams of the future, outlining plans
in his busy brain. The strong, clever
hands felt victory within their grasp.
AS the day wore on the sky grew over
cast, but storm was almost upon
him before he noticed the change.
On one side lay Midtown, with the
big Davis mills, and on the other side
the town proper On the outskirts of
the woods the nearest shelter was the
Davis Academy. He fastened his walk,
and as he felt the wind rising he broke
into a run. The trees groaned and
shrieked in the mind; the lightning
grew vivid, and the clouds broke into
a torrent of rain just as he reached
the shelter of the academy portico.
The beautiful old ivy on the wall had
already been torn from. its hold in
places by the violence of the storm,
and the leaves lay thickly scattered
where they had been driven in by the
wind. He kicked some of them aside,
and this motion exposed a piece of
white paper. He stopped and picked
it up. His heart almost stopped beat
ing; he leaned against the wall for
support, for there, where the storm
had driven it, was George Coulsons
| uu1SSluS
There in bold handwriting was the
owners name, and with feeling of
despair he glanced over the sheets.
He understood now how it had hap
pened. The wind, instead of carrying
it downward, had blown it over the
portico, where it had lodged in the
thick vine. 1t was so far from the
window that no one had thought of
that possibility.
Mechanically he glanced through
the pages. To his distorted magma
ton the words seemed the most won
derful George Coulson had ever writ
ten. His own manuscript beside this
piece of work seemed the bungling of
the merest amateur Despairingly he
though how the finding of it robbed
him of his opportunity. Suddenly a
thought crept through his brain. He
glanced about; no one was in sight.
Quickly he placed the hateful papers
inside his coat, and as soon as the
storm allowed he hurried home.
His mood at supper was so different
that the vague uneasiness returned to
his mother. AS soon as possible after
supper he stole off to his room. He
took the manuscript in his hands. 1t
was the only obstacle between him
and the prize, and it was in his power
to destroy it. ~
He looked out the window; slow,
drizzling rain was falling. Why had
he not left the manuscript where he
had found it? The rain would ruin it
before morning. Even now he could
return it.
He was not responsible. 1t was not
his duty to look after the papers if he
! did not wish.
He would not be injurying any one
, for George Coulson could easily pay
his way through any college. He him
self deserved the prize. In all fair
, ness it belonged to him; he had earned
| it. Fate had thrown the manuscript
at his feet; he would be fool not tt
5 take advantage of it.
Thus he reasoned as the moments
= passed. He knew his reasoning was
e false, that only one way lay straight
0 and true before him, but he could mo-
2 bear to look that way.
i Then he thought of the morning a.
}, Mass, the soft radiance of the candles
y the fragrance of the flowers and thu
y words of entreaty, "Son, give Me tn!
: heart" He rose to his feet and begal
to pace the room. Before his mine
l. swept the thought of what it would
:, mean to give up the paper. There il
t the valley lay the mills. If he did no
# win the scholarship next month h
q would go there to work, to commence
S what to him would be life of slavery
It And for what? That George Coul
d son, an insufferable snob, who ha'
e more than once cheated him of honors
It who had Knocked him and sneered a
l. him, should have yet one more honor
d 81 cannot do it," he declared pas
Sionataly st cannot give it nm I Wi