The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-03-22

OLIC BULLETIN, MARC!
stern old chief relaxing to seek a
reconciliation with one who was his
inferior in rank, and, who, moreover
bore no good reputation among his
kindred! John Eliot was amazed at
what he saw. A queer, choking SEN
sation filled his breast; as though
something within had suddenly ex-
banded and was pressing to burst it's
confines. The burden of the priests
discourse seemed still to float on the
silence about him: God loves you;
love God" Again an ecstasy of love
thrilled him and even his strong
form trembled. He stepped outside
and walked, nay, glided down the hill.
His heart pulsed fierce1y; his mind
was very chaos of new, burning
thoughts that rushed in upon him and
set him distracted
The little dark beings wondered
why the good white man did not smile
upon them as he passed, or even look
at them as they held up to him fra
grant branches of wild roses. Their
great round eyes stared after him, as
he strobe by the encampment and
down the old trail toward the Chute.
w.
He turned down a rugged path he
himself had worn, to a favorite seat
among the misshapen granite bould-
ers opposite the foot of the rapids.
He dropped into the rocky seat and
bowed his head upon his hands. He
sat with them pressing firmly against
his temples, endeavoring to make a
world of love and beauty out of the
fierce chaos of his mind. For an in
slant he remained in this position
then he raised his head slowly. His
eyes fastened themselves on the
gorge's spray-wet wall opposite him.
1t was of primitive formation-the
oldest of rocks, and it's stony face bore
the scars and seams of ages. His
mind was held by it. It was before
the Man-Christ came to earth-before
even Adam gloriously happy in mans
pristine innocency, was placed in re-
mote times, and the young torrent let
through had gnawed as a cancer at
the strongest rock, and the water
path grew into this deep gorge.
His glance wandered over the
ranges of hills, from the brown foot
hills to the purple slopes that blend
ed with the rich midsummer sky.
What allied We, o We mountains,
that We skipped like rams; and We
little hills, like the lambs of the
flock?" This the soft wind muir
INJURED.
cat the presence of the Lord, the
earth was moved; at the present of
the God of Jacob"
He flung himself upon his knees
"My God"
1t might have been the soft breeze
signing down the ravine; the words
were scarcely articulated
"Our God" His voice rose glad
and high in the solitude. Mighty
God of Heaven and Earth! All, the
sweetness of thy strength" Then his
voice died to an anguished vail Lord
of men! have l lived more than
thirty years and never felt thee be-
fore? Where have my years gone?
For in thee is the Wisdom of ages,
and I have not known thee. God
my God! Teach me; l am still a
child" His voice sank to a whisper,
and he steadied his shaken frame by
leaning over the bare ledge of rocks
beside him, rugged prie-dieu. "Teach
me, Lord of the Ages, and help me
to show thy greatness to my brother
man."
He ceased speaking. His figure was
motionless. No sound broke on the
MONDAY silence; for the slow thud,
thud of the waters against the base
of the cliff, and their kissing turmoil
in the rapids, were strangely blended
with the silence, and formed part of it.
That night worn old missionary
and an eager young man kept long
vigil in the lonely northern fort
The following night the Indians
celebrated the baptism of their young
babes and the marriages that had
taken place that morning. The leap
ing flames of their high-piled fires
drove back the fringing darkness and
Knocked the faint starlight. The mer-
ry clamor of the youthful Indians
was brought across on the fresh
night-breeze to John Eliot, as he knelt
in his room, and gave thanks for the
new, SURPRISING happiness the morn
ing had brought to him-his first
reception of the Body of the Lord
God-made man.
Presently he went to the low win
dow and, sliding it back in it's cas-
ing, looked out Before the dusky
background of the hills the fires
famed up and disclosed the wigwams
of the merry band. Their loud mirth
did not jar upon his devout mood.
He recalled the passage. Gather up
thy heart in His holiness; and drive
away sadness far from thee. For
sadness hath killed many, and there
is no profit in it."
He was awake to new humanity.
lies cheers enfants des bois," he
said, quoting the old missionary.
Truly now my brothers in Christ, .
he added softly. The light of Easter
had dawned in another heart