The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-08-30

stones until he came to grey gram
tie cross that stood alone.
He approached it carelessly to read
the inscription, and found that it had
been just erected to the memory Of
the Catholic men who had fallen in
the war, and amongst them was the
name of Tim O'More, late of the
Regiment And the long list was fol-
lowed by the usual prayer for the de
parted: 'sRequiescant in pace"
Lieutenant futile barred his head.
God help him, if indeed he needs
it," he prayed, not knowing that he
had said the words aloud.
A woman who had knelt behind
him touched his sleeve deprecating-
~. "Twas you was Tins officer y
she asked, timidly.
Ter yes" he hesitated; "and
you?'
81 am his mother. sir. Tell me
how he died, if you can. Did he have
the priest?"
HE died beside me, ma'am, while
1 slept. He was a good lad, and he
was cared for by Padre Joachim. He
he taught me to pray, ma'am.
was heather before then, and twas
Tim taught me to say God help me-
instead of swearing at the pain"
'Then-you-you are not Catho-
lic." she sighed.
"No, ma'am. But | may be one
and that soon-I-I don't know, but
that boys end and Padre Joachim's
blessing have inclined me to believe. "
She forgot her own sorrow for a
while in the joy of her Catholic soul,
while she poured out flood of
strange language that he dimly rec
ognized as that in which Tim had held
converse with the priest. Yet
though he understood not the words
of her canticle, he discerned therein
the faith and love and wonder and
gratitude of an Irish mothers heart.
She grew silent at last, and led him
to the tiny white and green cottage
that nestled among the pink-tipped
apple blossoms close to the little
wooden church.
There she babe him be seated, and
gave him buttermilk, and suffered
him to tell her his story-and Tins
i'm his own way Soldier-like, he
told her of fierce fighting, and of deeds
of valor, and of her boys unselfish
gaiety, but he drew veil of silence
over their sufferings and hardships
for he remembered the tenderness
of her mother heart After a while
she left him, feigning to remember
some duty, and bidding him not stir
till she returned.
"Sure, It's the priest must do the
rest; but he's Tins convert, Glory be
to Cod" she murmured joyfully, as
she slipped away and stole by back
lane to the rectory on the other side
of the church.
Five years had passed. Padre Joa-
chin walked slowly across the white
sand to the brand new station that
was one of the results of the war.
He was old, and the anxieties of
that time had aged him still more,
so that he had petftioned his super
Tors to send him an assistant, for
many of his people lived a days ride
from the mission.
Maybe | shouldn't have asked,
he thought, lingering his rosary ner-
vously. But then he remembered his
feebleness, and his dear people who
lived so far away-so very far away
"All is good that God provides" he
told himself, and just then he had nc
time for any more thoughts of the
kind, of the train came snorting and
painting into the little station in the
midst of a cloud of dust.
There was only one passenger. He
would have known the tall, soldierly
figure among a thousand, and he
seemed to reach the Padres side in
two steps.
"You didn't know that they were
sending me, Padre!" he cried, and his
blue eyes danced with the joy of it.
mo. Father Guardian said young
man from the seminary"
| Father Timothy laughed. "AnC
when l had told him all about m!
days here at the mission, he said tina
1 had right to come and prove m!
gratitude, for it was your blessing be
gan it, Padre"
"And Tins prayer" flashed bacl
the old man.
you heard that?" asked FatheI
Timothy, in surprise.
"Aye, that and more, God help me,
/ returned Padre Joachim. well thanl
God, you're here safely. Come t.
the mission now, and cool OF. TIC
morrow Wen go to work
Marp Agatha Crap, In ST AnthonD 8 Almanac