The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-07-19

- 49,
manhood for a nights carouse.
And it was a sad sight, too, this
ruthless blighting of such fair prolD
ises, this wearing away of the vital
forces in such magnificent physique,
this slow and relentless strangling of
a spirit that still dared to dream of
higher things. And was it to be no
more than dream? Would all this
unspeakable shame and loathing of its
degradation never fan to flame the
last faint spark of nobility in the fet-
tered soul? For there were still some
shreds of nobility in Will Staunton, a
nobility born not only of nature, but
of deep, mistaken faith in a just and
eternal God.
1t was in such mood of half-hope-
full remorse that he pulled his horse
into walk, and with his head sunk
forward upon his breast, became wrapt
in reverie. His thoughts went back
through the years and rested on a
scene of his boyhood
1t was the Feast of Corpus Christi
The sun peered ever the eastern hills
with a sleepy, sodden look in his
bloated red face, as though he had
been drinking hard the night before,
and was not well pleased to be up at
this early hour But when he had
gained a height from which he could
look down on the scene before him, he
frightened up considerably. His jolly
old face returned to its habitual size
and color, and after few hard winks
to clear his eyes, he broke into a
broad, good-natured smile that seemed
to diffuse itself over everything. The
myriad dew-drops that chung to the
fresh green grass blinked and sparkled
in a most witching way; the violets
and morning-glories opened their sleep
ing eyes, and tossed their little heads
in a decidedly disdainful manner at
the softly murmured protestation of
the lovelorn breeze, for didn't he tell
the same to all the fiowers-the tickle
minion! The thrushes whistled gaily
in the hedges by the roadside, while
from copse and thicket came the clear
strong note of the robin calling to his
mate. Even the solemn old ocean
seemed to enter into the fun as he
heaved and shook with suppressed
merriment, and then chatting at re-
straint cast himself with uproarious
laughter upon the beach. The sweet
voiced bell from the little chapel over
looking the sea called out in it's blith-
est cheeriest tones; and over all bent
the smiling clear blue of the Irish
skies.
Hurry, mother said little Will
Staunton, cor we shall be late"
The mother looked down proudly at
the flushed and eager little face. 1t
was her boys First Communion day,
and who will say what that means for
good Catholic mother!
Every we'll; now l am ready. Don't
forget your prayer-book, WILL
mo, mother, I have it here in my
pocket"
"Oh, mother" said the boy, as the
two hurried on to church. II am so
happy! l don't think l shall ever be
so happy again in my life"
Eyes, DEAR" said Mrs. staunton very
tenderly, "and you must pray very
hard when our dear Lord comes to you
this morning, that He may keep you
ever good and dear to Him."
81 will, / will, mother, and I'm going
to pray for you and papa, too
And your promise? You haven't
forgotten your promise, have you,
WHIP
mo, indeed, mother. I am to prom
Use the Blessed Mother to say the An
gelus and three Hail Marys in her
honor every day.
And now it was the Communion of
the Mass. A solemn hush went through
the little chapel. The children knelt
with bowed heads, as the good old
pastor turned towards them, and lift
ing one tiny host in his fingers, said
in voice tremulous with emotion:
"Ecce Agnus Del, Behold the Lamb
of God! Domino non sum dignus-
Oh, Lord, am not worthy" And then
with love and awe Will Staunton re-
ceived his God.
II.
A great sob broke from the young
roue, and a tear stole unheeded down
his sunken cheek. 1t was pure Wis
ion from life's morning, calling the
prodigal home.
"A sorrows crown of SORROWS
Is remembering happier things"
And ali! the sadness in the thought
of what might have been! And how
the sorrowful yet loving face of the
mother whose heart he had broken
rose before him and called him back
to God and virtue The memory of the
first fatal step came back to him now,
and it was bitter as wormwood. He
recalled the stormy scenes with his
father, the tears and prayers of his
mother, and the lure of sin that closed
his heart to all but sensual pleasure.
Continued on page o.