The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1912-04-20

TOW.
The lad promised and passed out of
the house.
John Crimmins, the school teacher
was bachelor of forty-fve, who lived
in neat cottage about quarter of a
mile away from the school house.
Old Mrs. Doyle, woman of sixty-four,
who was all alone in the world, kept
house for Crimmins-and kept it well,
you may be sure. She had a motherly
way with her, and looked upon the
teacher as son, and John looked
upon her as mother. 1t was pleas
ant arrangement for both of them and
made life run smoothly enough.
When Maurice reached the cottage,
Crimmins had just got home from
school. He was most friendly in his
greetings to his promising scholar, and
made him forget as much as possible
the gap of distance between them.
When one is full of subject one
comes out with it quickly, and Maur-
ice was full of fading visions and
dying hopes.
Mr.. Crimmins, you have been very
good to me all along, and you have
helped me in hundred ways"
And, Maurice, I have told you a
hundred times not to mention good
ness or favors from me to you"
We'll, can't help it this once;
for am going"
Going? Where, my dear?"
ITO leave school,"
ITO leave SCHOOL,"
The teacher waited for explanations
"You know, now that my father is
dead, I must fill his position or we
must leave our little home. We can't
do that; for we must live, and not
beg. I learned a good deal morning
and evening about taking care of the
sheep from father. Tomorrow I'll take
up his work."
To Maurice's surprise and, perhaps,
disappointment, the teacher had no
regrets to offer over his stern fate.
Evidently to take care of your
mother and to keep the little home is
the present duty. And the present
duty is the first duty, Maurice Don't
worry about the future; for the little
service of today takes care of the
larger service of tomorrow"
That's all fine talk" thought Maui
rice; 'but fine talk never gets one a
schooling"
The teacher had more to add:
Maurice, keep up the studies-the
Latin, the reading of English authors
and write composition sometimes.
I'll help YOU
And straightway this man of axioms
wrote down schedule of work for
his shepherd pupil and promised to
help him along.
Maurice went off in better spirits
than he had come; for, in spite of
drudgery and long vigils, his dream
was not blotted out forever, though it
was far away.
To tell of his daily round of work
keeping guard and count of the sheep,
warding off disease, and fighting it out
when it entered the fold; his long
walks from end to end of the wide
estate; his watchfulness to protect
the interests of his master; his tact
in getting those under him to render
full and careful service-to tell all
this would be to repeat the story of
many another lad born at the base
of the mountain, who, because he
longed for larger vision, could not be
gainsaid, and climbed to the summit.
There were, in his watch, periods of
lull, when he sat under a tree and
pored over his Latin, or worked a
problem in mathematics, or read the
books loaned to him by his teacher.
There were many occasions, too, when
the teacher himself happened along
and removed difficulties from before
the active lad, or showed him new
ways. It was like fighting ones path
against high wind on a treeless
plain, this battling against circum.
stance. Maurice liked it, waxed
stronger of purpose under the force
of it, and saw his dream come nearer
day by day. But for one opposing
force he would have advanced so joy.
ously as almost to forget he was a
sheep-tender.
Sir Robert Ferendale had three sons
and as many daughters. Five of these
children one may dismiss without a
word or nod, as they had no rela
lions whatever with the young dream
er of dreams. The second son., who
carried his fathers name, was about
a year and half Matrices senior
Like his brothers and sisters, he had
a private teacher, following the ira
ditional ideas of gentleman born.
Probably he was clever enough-one
is not concerned. Doubtless he made
progress in his studies-it is not sc
important. But what surprises one
even now is that this young, pam
rered, petted boy, with the way of life
rosy before him, could stoop to notice
with envy lad who ran barefoot
Lob I~S@ Gal O. II Il Il.