The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-02-02

had placed them, all, 3 one in front of
the other, with their faces toward the
wall
May | ask why you have taken
such unwarranted liberty with my pri-
vate property" I questioned with all
the singing irony 1 could muster into
my voice.
Yes she answered unfIinch1ngly
Yes; | am Catholic, Mr.. Stanley,
and l do not intend to contaminate my
eyes with sights that are not fit OBJ
jects for even pagan's."
why, girl, | paid fortune for
them. They're the finest originals of
the highest modern art"
!, They may, be very high in the scale
of what you call art, sir, but they're
very low in the scale of morality
was her .rejoinder,
And have you left me anything that
is worth While?" I ventured with an
attempt at bravado; but l must con-
Tess her reply had made a deep i'm
preston upon me.
=, Cos oAAO OehAd, Will IL DDlIlL VI
exultation, there are two which are
worth while. One is a picture of an
old lady, in black lace cap. The
very wrinkles of her lovely face are
formed in the lines of motherly
smile. Her eyes are like two liquid
gems Of blue, and her silver hair falls
in waves of Wilderness over forehead
as noble as that of a princess or a
queen
AS she spoke she had led me, like
one entranced, to a corner of the
room, and we stood before the picture
she was describing All; the flood
of memories that rushed over me be-
fore that painting. | was boy again,
and the years were all before me.
The longings of lifetime, the joys
and sorrows of an idle pleasure-seek-
ing youth had not deadened all in
stincts of love and honor. The clutch
ing after bubbles of happiness that
burst as soon as they were touched
and left in the, eager hand dampness
and in the heart despair, had not, as
yet choked up the well-springs OF
pure affection. | saw her, not as she
stood revealed in that picture before
me, but as had often looked up into
those loving eyes in those distant
days, and called her the sweetest and
tenderest of names, my Mother"
You have a queer inscription under
| that picture, Mr.. Stanley" the girl al
my side remarked.
l could hardly speak. For the first
time in fifteen years my eyes were
yelled with a mist of tears. I fell
! that | should sob if tried to answer
| but my eyes turned toward the little
gilded slip of wood and read, MA
donna mia
THAT is one of the paintings worth
while she resumed; and her words
sank into my soul, stirring it to its
very depths. Here is the other. SCI
| the strange coincidence! This is alsC
entitled Madonna mia,' but it has no
| the same face as the other. I know
this face, as | know the figure of thu
tiny Babe she is holding. All! Ma
| donna mia, what dissertation to have
put you in the midst of all this filth,
she murmured in apostrophe to thu
painting how Before us. See the ten
der eyes that gaze in love on her Chic
and her God! There's a tear just be
| ginning to trickle down her cheek
! the tiny outstretched arms of OIL
Blessed Lord, the happy smile on Hi
infant CONFERENCE.-The a telling
contrast to the pathos and sad res
| ignation on the face of His Madonna
| Oh! Mr.. Stanley when am gone yol
will probably rehang all those othe
pictures, but if you have a speck o
honor in your soul, beg you to taxi
| down these two, and don't defile then
| by keeping them in the room will
those shameful specimens of so-callec
1 art"
| don't know just exactly how i
happened; l don't know why | did it
but almost before I was aware tina
| had spoken she was blushing ant
staring at me with plying, but indig
nant eyes.