The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1912-12-21
Continued from Page o.
A CHRISTMAS EVE HOMECOMING

Continued from Page o.
A CHRISTMAS EVE HOMECOMING
ton. Their sorrow is great who kneel
by the bier of their nearest and dear
est; but they may, at least, pray for
the one who has gone from them with
the hope that they are tightening
his suffering But she who sits through
the long night, waiting, waiting for
the return of unsteady feet, the sound
of thick voice, the caresses, or per-
haps the blows, of a man who is be-
come brute-she has prayed before;
she has hoped till the powers of hope
are gone; she may keep her Faith and
hope for the world to come, there is
no hope for this world-nor may she
console herself that the next is near
at hand. If there be a circumstance
more tragic than hers-I would rather
not know it.
The little clock emitted a warning
whirr, then began to strike again The
woman sat up and listened till it's
eleven strokes were accomplished
And then she formed a desperate
resolve. Never before had she gone
out to bring Tom home. She would
do SO tonight. She would find him in
some one of the gilded saloons. Shame
at the glances of the redfaced men
would not deter her. Fear of the wrath
of drunken husband would not keep
her back With a hasty glance to see
that the little ones still slept, she drew
on the hat and coat she might have to
pawn for the necessaries of life before
the end of week.
She reached the street in time to
hear the last stroke of the chimes in
the churchtower. With that attention
to details of which a strained mind is
so wonderfully capable, she reflected
that her own timepiece was fast.
Across the first corner, she could see
the lights of palace of alcohol She
started past the church to reach it.
She noted with surprise that the win
dows of the church were still alight.
Then she remembered the numbers
of confessions that were to be heard.
She felt an impulse to- enter the open
door and pray for success in finding
the man who was breaking her bruised
heart.
She hurried by the lines of waiting
penitents at the boxes Far up to the
Ii Jill DIG "O4I Ild0I11y BIC UClL uOI
knees before the Presence on the high
altar as she made her way toward the
crib at the right She knelt down
before that representation of the one
perfect Family. She gazed mutely at
the Babe in the manager, at the kneel-
ing Mother and Foster Father. Then
she whispered a quick Hail Mary"
ooh, Mother of Cod she added
brokenly-'if you have the power to
help us wretched children of your
Son, help me to have my family a
little like yours; and help me now to
| find Tom
She traced upon her breast the sign
of the greatest suffering of all that
mankind has ever endured. Then she
turned about to go out by the aisle
opposite to that by which she had
entered. Here, as on the other side,
were lines of penitents at the
| entrances to each confessional In
passing one her attention was slightly
drawn by the opening of the door.
A man was having more or less
difficulty in backing out of the mar
row space while firmly grasping
huge bundle in either arm. At first
she did not recognize the new clothes
he wore. Then she remembered the
brown they had spent so much time
that afternoon in selecting. 1t was
Tom!
Drawing close behind the shelter of
one of the pillars, she waited until he
had deposited the cumbersome
packages on seat and knelt to say
his penance. Then she hurried home
A few minutes afterward she heard
| the click of the lock at the door of
their new apartment. She made a
hasty dab at her eyes and glanced
into the mirror over the imitation fire.
place before she turned to meet her
husband
There's the things" said the CHEEKY
voice of the reformed man. "You
wasn't worried none, was you? I
thought I'd drop into the church SOS
to go to Holy Communion with you in
the mornin'.'
The little clock struck once more as
they were opening the big bundles.
| Merry Christmas" cried Tom, as he
boldly seized the kiss he would not
have dared give with even the smell
of liquor on his breath.
"The merriest in our lives" quoth
| Mrs. Morrow, as she smiled through
suspicious moisture in her eyes.
George M. A. Cain in Extension