The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1915-01-16

AAN~A AOA bAC SAA0kNEACu 6J6NCbus
Doctor Herrick left the room
broken man. In all his experience he
was never baffled as he had been to-
night. He wandered out into the cor
ridor, ordered his machine and rode
down the slope of the hill. Turning
the corner he nearly ran over man
hurrying along in the dark.
Excuse me-" he said, as he stopped
the auto.
rs that you, Doctor Herrick?"
asked voice.
"Yes-who is it,"
Father Malloy," answered the
chaplain. How is she?"
Dead"
God pity her."
Where are you going, Father at
this late hour?"
Il am on hurried call to the
prison."
Jump in. I'll take you up" said
the surgeon.
The priest jumped into the auto,
keeping silence until they reached the
gate. AS he left the machine the
priest asked:
Have you time to come in?'
Certainly, father
The big gate swung open and they
entered. The damp, clammy atmos-
phere was in striking contrast to the
crisp, bracing air outside. An I'M
canny feeling came over the surgeon
as he passed through the three iron
gates, the bolts of which echoed and
re-echoed as the turnkey showed them
back and relocked them when the
midnight visitors stepped into the big
rotunda. One gas light flickered; all
about we're the tiers and tiers of cells
from the floor to the ceiling. Here
and there a spectral form doomed up
as guard walked about. The muffled
tread from felt shoes broke the sill
ence as the guards mounted the iron
stairs and disappeared somewhere
aloft.
The turnkey never spokeea word as
he led the way across the rotunda
floor, pushed button, which called
the matron and went back to his
desk. The matron pushed back bolt
that echoed through the spaces, ad-
mitted the priest and doctor and led
the way along the narrow corridor.
Down two flights of stairs they went
and stopped at cell, one of the
padded cages built under the street.
Two attendants, prisoner also, left the
cell as the priest entered, with light
ed candle, which he placed on chair,
the only piece of furniture in the
room. In corner on a mattress,
thrown on the floor was form, very
much emaciated, once thing of
beauty, whose eyes glowed in the
shadow, whose long, thin arms and
claw-like hands were folded on the
sheet that covered the shrunken form.
oh, father,I am so glad you came
back. They tell me am dying and l
have thought over and over what you
said. Edo you. think God will overlook
lie wrongs, the mistakes and the
wreck?" she asked in a weak voice.
Dear child, remember all said to
you about the Christ, dying that you
might be saved. He saw you when
he hung victim to mans cruelty on
| the Gross. He wants you. / am 60
ing I'd give you the Sacraments. You
| have lmade the best confession you
ever made. All the past is forgiven.
God will not hold it against you. Soon
III put the Holy Oils of Extreme Unc-
ton On you and then Christ Himself
will enter your soul in Holy Viaticum,
the food for the long journey down
the dark corridor. At the end you will
find God waiting" said the priest
'Oh, thank God, father! I am not
afraid now. He is going with me. /
am ready"
| The priest stepped outside, called
the surgeon who came into the cell,
and Knclt at the side of the prisoner.
Tie other two knelt outside the
opened door and prayed earnestly.
Doctor Herrick was not a Catholic,
but like Holmes he had seen hundreds
of Catholics die. Each time he was
impressed, and when the inevitable
was about to happen, he always
watched the light grow dim, flicker
and go out. So now it was a matter
of minutes as, holding the candle, he
watched the trained man work
lie listened intently to the weak
voice repeating the words of the
priest:
"Oh God, am not worthy that Thou
shouldst enter under my roof. Say
but the Word and my soul shall be
healed
He bowed his head as the priest
held up the Sacred Host and gave it
to the dying woman, who closed her
eyes and thought. He watched with
no curiosity as the priest placed the
Holy Oils on the sense organs, stop
ping forever those channels whence
sin scared the soul.
Unconsciously he repeated the
words the priest was helping the pris.
oner to say:
Jesus, have Mercy"
| Sweet Mother Mary, pray for me-
"My Patron Saint, intercede for
me-
Jesus, have Mercy
A tiny tear trickled down his cheek
when he saw the pallid lips impress a
fervent kiss on the Crucifix, the figure
of the Man-God dying.
The change came quickly the pa.
tent smiled and it remained, as the
pallor spread. The smile was still
there as he took the pulse and said: