The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-10-25
ALittIe Child Shall Lead.

older folks have failed, and will
brighten the poor boy little"
i So Angela came the next day, and
every day after that, till the end OF
the voyage. And Warmer grew to
look for her coming. Her quaint baby
prattle, her odd little ways were a
never-failing source of amusement to
him; and won him from the morbid
self-centralization that was threaten
ing to become habitual.
For as the tide of the child's sweet
ness mingled with that of the mans
bitterness, he began to look at life
with kindlier eyes. AS she found his
name impossible to pronounce, he
taught her to call him "Chum" and
it gave him great delight to hear her
lisping the word in her pretty way.
i One evening as she sat at his feet
coloring prints, while he read, she
looked up from her work, and with
her eyes on the west which was all
aglow with the tints of glorious sun
set she asked him naively:
"Who paints the sky Chum?"
Warmer was not religious man.
In fact he called himself freethinker
If he could be said to think at all
about religion-but somehow the only
answer that suggested itself to the
child's question was:
God"
! 80 Chum,' she cried clapping her
hands in delight, what lovely paint
box God must have
Then leaving her hitherto absorbing
occupation she clambered on to his
knee.
"Tell me bout God, please" she
said, bout the teeny, weeny baby
Jesus, and Muvver Mary, and Saint
JOSEF"
What could he do? He could not
shock her baby faith in God, nor her
belief in himself, by propounding free
thinking tenets or saying that he did
!. not know.
And with those inquisitorial eyes
upon him he dared not evade the re
quest. So he complied, though some
what shame-facedly, and repeated the
"old, old story ever new" AS he die
so, the faith of his childhood seemed
to call to him from the mist of the
years, and the wish almost sprang
up in his heart that it might live again
The child sat almost motionless, drink
ing in every word, supplying details
, occasionally, as she had heard them
from Mummy When he had ended
| che C+ort1od him NV asking.
"Is you very bad, Chum?'
"Well, I fancy you'd think me
pretty bad, little one, but what makes
you ask me that?"
"tCos a lady told Mummy she
linked you was very bad, but yor
is bevvy good, isn't your" and she
cuddled closer to him.
"Oh," said he, as the light broke
on the question, "she meant suppose
that 1 was very ill, Angela
'Willn't you ever get better?" she
asked anxiously though she wondered
how he could be very ill and not ly
ing in bed with nasty medicine tC
take.
I'm afraid not, wee one," he ans
wered sadly, as he stroked the sunny
curls.
mot even if l ask Muvver Mary
envy day to better you, as she die
me?"
He shrugged his shoulders, but she
went on, more to herself than to him
course, | 'spect I'd promise tC
: give you to her like Daddy and Mum
my gived me. Shall ask her, Chum 2
The child was intensely in earnest
and he had not the heart to say mo
Perhaps there might be something
in it after ALL What was it the poet
had written?
; more things are wrought by prayer
than this world dreams Of" If thai
were true surely the prayer of lit
tie child must prevail and he would
be "bettered' in some way. If, or
the other hand, it were mere chin
era, no harm could be done by baby
lips uttering his name daily in baby
prayer. 1t would be sweet to think
some one was remembering him. Sc
he said:
angela, dear little one! say your
prayer for Chum and we'll see what
) will come of it."
"Es," said the child, patting his
arm materially, Ell say, it envy day
'Muvver Mary better Chum.'
Thank you dear, you won't forget?'
Truly, faif and honor" queer
little asseveration borrowed from hel
playmates, with which she always ac
companied her most solemn promise!
to be good.
So that night after her usual peti
| lions Angela added the quaint prayer
: and explained to Mummy" all abou
; the compact When the golden heaC
} was fast asleep on the pillow, Mrs
| Colville and Warmer paced the deck
: They were like old friends now, anC
he spoke to her quite freely abou
his childhood, the hopes and disap
pointments of his manhood, the drear!
( outlook of the future.
Fate has been generous enough tt
: me with material gifts he was say
ing; ''but the things I've cared fol
: most have always been taken from
: me. 1t sounds like whining, but mine
t has been pretty hard luck, don't 20,
: agree?"
: eyes" she replied, you poor boy
' it has been hard but" and she quoted
| softly
ooh vet we trust that somehow