The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1916-03-11


meet a foreigner, we do not cry out
instinctively: "'Ere's a stranger, let's
cave 'arf brick at him." It is with.
out effort, quite naturally and gen.
timely, that we hail as comrade, a
French or German, Spanish or Ameri-
can Catholic. st. Paul's phrase, Eye
are fellow citizens of the saints" ap-
peals forcibly to US. We feel we are
children of the household of the faith,
and the communion of the saints both
here and hereafter is reality for US.
Again the loyalty of Irish Catholics
to the See of st. Peter is intense.
Ever since Saint Patrick said: "As
We are children of Christ be We also
children of Rome" his advice has been
taken so deeply to heart by his spirit
ual children that nothing has been
able to shake their devotion to the
Holy See. The orthodoxy of Irish
Catholicism is proverbial. The
breath of heresy or schism has never
for a moment furnished it's record.
An anecdote may illustrate this pro-
verbal orthodoxy better than a
lengthy dissertation:
A poor man was dying in a New
York hospital. He could speak only
broken English and the doctors and
nurses were not sure of his religion or
nationality. They knew he was either
a Russian Lithuanian, or Pole, and
guessed, therefore. that he must be.
long either to the Russian Orthodox
church or to the Catholic church.
would you like to see priest?''
they asked him. He nodded. A Cath
olic priest ian Irishman) was going
round the wards visiting some of his
flock. The nurse called him, saying
she was not sure if this patient be-
longed to his church or not; would he
please ascertain. The Irish priest be-
gan to question him, but the language
barrier led to difficulties, and the sa-
CART was puzzled. Finally he decided
the man was a member of the Russian
Orthodox church, and he said, II will
send you a priest of your own faith.
AS he was about to turn away the dy-
ing man murmured the word Pope"
What about the Pope?" asked the
priest. Il follow Pope; believe like
Pope" was the reply. Still the priest
wou ,,nconvincod NJ hio Catbolic;cn,
yes, know" he returned soothingly
you call your priests Popes, will
send one Of them to you" Then the
dying man made supreme effort
Struggling to raise himself in the bed,
he clutched at the priests coat with
an appealing cry, II believe like the
Irish," he gasped, II am Catholic like
the Irish" Then the sagart was con.
vinced. He stayed with the lonely
wanderer to the end, and sped the
soul on its last journey, strengthened
by those sublime rites with which our
Holy Mother fortifies us at the end OF
time and threshold of eternity.
What tribute to Irish Catholicism
was paid by this poor wanderer from
Eastern Europe, dying in the western
world! II believe like the Irish, l
am Catholic like the Irish," he cried
and the listener knew at once what
that meant.
AS regards reserve, and asceticism,
anvOna who kn0wa our noonlo init
mately is struck by the austere note
in their character.
Irish people, though friendly to
strangers, are intensely reserved con.
corning their deeper feelings. Perhaps
it is because their family affections
are so deep that they are undemon-
tity Of our priesthood, there is nothing
we take such legitimate pride in as
the high standard of Irish family life.
Where is conjugal fidelity, where is
parental and filial affection stronger
, than in Ireland? But near relatives
among us not only refrain from lavish
they scarcely use terms of endear-
ment to one another in presence of a
third person.
They are shy of showing to the
world what should be sacred to two
hearts alone. A term of endearment
III the Irish language is a ruin, my
contidant (e). No language is so
crammed with exquisite terms of love
and tenderness as Irish is, no Ian
guage lends itself so readily to writing
Of love, to thinking love. In what
language are there phrases compar-
able in poetic passion to a mhile
ghradh, a chuisle mo chroidhe, stoir
mo chleibh, ruin dilis, m'anam istigh
thu, mo chuid dhe'n tsaoghal. my
thousand times beloved. Pulse Of my
heart. Treasure of my bosom. My
secret darling. My loyaly confidant
(e). My soul within are you. My
share of the worldly and the thousand
and one other enchanting love words
to be found in Irish.
AS tho spirit of the race is en-
shrined in the language, this wealth
of terms of 'endearment to be found
in our native speech proves there is
no lack of love in the Irish nature:
and Irish lovers are not chary Of