The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1915-08-21

that moment Father O'Brien began to
study his friend. 1t did not take long
to find out that Silas Grant had an
uneasy mind, and that it was affecting
his nerves to a certain extent. Other
people, too, had begun to pass re-
marks such as:
Squire Grant is falling" Squire
Grant is losing his grip etc.
The young priest tried in every way
possible to get at the root of the mat
ter without exciting the Squire's sus-
picions, but it seemed impossible.
Once the Squire started to speak on
matter which he said had been wor-
rying him and which Father O'Brien.
thought was the important matter,
but he changed his mind. 1t really
was the very thing he had been try
ing to get at, but Silas had grown to
like the priest very much and he had
brooded on the subject so long that it
seemed like a terrific crime. He
dreaded losing the respect of his
friend, so he kept it to himself and
sent it more deeply inside.
1t was June when Mrs. Grant spoke
to him. The summer months wore
| on, each day leaving it's mark on ST.
las. August came in frightfully hot,
| and as the days seemed to be taking
the very life blood from his friend,
Father O'Brien, who had been pray
ing for him many times a day, re-
solved to breach the subject to him.
1t was the first week in August,
and together they were inspecting the
foundation of the new church.
How Tim Murphy would have re-
joiced to have seen the church start
3D." Father O'Brien said, turning to
Silas, "and that reminds me of an
other subject, I have Tim to thank
for the generous friend | have found
in you"
He held out his hand, which Silas
| grasped warmly. The priest held it
in his two hands and all his eager de-
sire to help shining in his eyes, he
said feelingly:
"My dear friend, l would not be a
sincere friend if I had not noticed
that you have been troubled in mind
about something. Please let me help
| you if it is in my power"
Silas dropped his eyes; he made an
effort to speak and then shook his
head sadly. When at length he spoke
his voice sounded very gruff as he
said:
THANK you, my friend, if any power
on earth could give me an easy mind
| would ask your assistance
Father O'Brien, once the subject
was opened, would not so easily give
in. > He said solemnly: IF no friend
on earth can help you, call on the
Friends in heaven. There is Our
Lady of Perpetual Help; ask her to
help YOU Then as cynical look
came over the Squire's face at the
mention of the Blessed Mothers
name, he said earnestly:
"My friend, l have especial devo.
ton to the Blessed Mother, because
l was born on one of her great feast
days, the feast OF. the Assumption, on
the fifteenth day, of August.
Each year | make a novena, OF
nine days prayer before the feast and
on that day ask her a favor which
she has never faised to grant. Now,
do not know what your trouble is and
you never told me, but this year on
the fifteenth day of August l shall
ask her to grant to you peace of mind
such as you have never known be
FORE"
Silas Grant was frankly incredu
lous, but the young priest smiled a
wise, kindly smile as he said:
"Wait and see, my friend, wait and
see." a.
| The days went by slowly enough
and Silas seemed to grow more
weary each day. The first day Father
lO'Brien's words raised in him a faint
stirring of hope, but as each day
dragged by and he saw little of the
busy priest, the hope died within him
The feast of the Assumption came
at last, and Silas rose that morning
early, faint curiosity stirring with.
in him as to what excuse the Father
would have to offer when he had to
acknowledge failure.
/ He smiled grimly. Perhaps he
would not have been so quick to
promise if he knew the power to give
me peace of mind lies in the hands OF
a man who is already crumbling to
dust"
His restlessness all day nearly
drove his wife frantic, and as late in
the afternoon he took the road to-
ward the cottage, she sat down and
cried as though her heart would
break; she felt as though her nerves
must give way under the strain.
The cottage was quiet enough as
Silas approached and strangely
enough the sunlight seemed to strike
it today. He saw no one pottering
about the garden as he had often seen
of late, so taking his courage in his
hands he resolved to enter.
The gate creaked rustily on its
hinges as he swung it open and
walked up the weed grown path. The
atmosphere of it's former occupant
hung about the place. Everything
seemed to be charged with Tins per-
sonality. He opened the door and felt
it more than ever. The sunlight
streamed into the dusty rooms, bare of
furniture, and his feet reused strange
echoes as he strobe through the silent
house.