The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1919-03-08
Continued from page -
BEFORE DAWN.

and dad we're young when they had
had that picture taken. See their
clasp. Mortimer had to smile tender.
ly at the old-fashioned dress and their
unaffected pOse-for, after all, he had
a good, wholesome soul by nature, and
the world had not corrupted it-as yet.
He leaned over the fireplace medi-
tating, and the flames lit up the pho
tograph in his hand. He could see the
dear old pair as if they were alive. Of
course he did not remember them
when they looked as young and fresh
as the picture represented them. That
was before he had come into existence.
The faces as he remembered them
were scanned with lines of toll and
care. The sturdy frames were bent,
the hair was tinged with gray, the
bloom Of Ireland had faded in the
dark streets and foul air Of the great
metropolis. But in this picture he
could see them in their prime. He
loved to see them thus, young and
strong, and straight and sturdy. Oh,
if they had lived till he could really
have done something for them! Their
slightest wish would have been graft
fed. It would have been a pleasure
to anticipate their wishes. As it was,
without them, his triumphs seemed
somewhat empty and vain.
How vivid his memory was tonight!
He could even recall little snatches Of
cid songs his mother used to Groom.
And that other wonderful song of an
interminable number of verses about
the chapel of charming Rossmore. He
could recall one of the verses:
Though it stands there both cold,
bare and naked,
While others with varnish do shine,
In the Judgment divine it will not be
forsaken,
Says the Reverend Father O'Brien.''
The poetry, of course, was not
much; but the faith that treasures it
was sublime.
He remembered the day he had
been late for Mass and was reported
by the priest. How stern his father
had looked! how grieved his mother.
1t was All Saints Day. He had
really forgotten all about the holy day
! till his fiancee had casually remarked
that she had been to Mass that morn
ing at a particular church, and he had
quickly turned the conversation to an
other subject, lest he be forced to con
fess that he had not gone.
He looked at the picture again. How
| stern his father looked. And heavens,
how grieyed his mother. A halo OF
light shone about them both and they
seemed to be actually standing before
him. The light "a a flame! They
were enveloped in flame. His first
thought was Of purgatory? Oh, God!
were they still in purgatory? And all
these years he had never " had a
Mass said for them.
He jumped out of his chair, the vi
sion had vanished. Curled up on the
logs amid the ashes was the remains
OF the photograph. he a e nall
asleep and dropped it on the flames.
His vivid Imagination and bad consci.
ence had done the rest.
Bitterly he reproached himself and
his idle dreams of what he would have
done for them had they lived. They
had not lived and he knew he could
have done much for them even though
they were dead, and he had not done
it. He could have been more faithful
to his God-he could have remem.
bered them in his prayers-he could
have had a Mass said for them. That
would have pleased them better than
his idle dreams of great things he
would have done had they lived. Far
more than marble monuments and
wreaths, more than the luxury he
would have given them, would they
have valued a life true to Gods serv.
ice and simple prayers and Masses
for their welfare.
But tomorrow was All Souls Day.
Down on his knees he went before the
painting of his dear mother and dad.
! Pardon me- he whispered, that