The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1919-07-12
IN THE HOLLOW OF HIS HAND.
Continued from page %

head in reVerent acquleScence he told
his man to drive slowly, and uncov-
ering his head he walked beside the
carriage AS the little cortege moved
away there was hiss from someone
stantly by loud cheers. ''Hurrah for
the general" the crowd shouted lust
lily. All the world loves a brave man;
besides, AvonGale was proud of Gen
eral Johnston. of his fame and Of his
wealth, and though awed by his ST.
lent reserve, loved him for his bound
less goodness to the poor. And chat
tering peaceably, if boisterously, the
crowd melted away, unconscious of
Bridget's blazing eyes and clenched
first that threatened them from the
attic window.
Late in the afternoon of the follow
| ing day General Johnston called on
Father Huntington. The slatternly
old housekeeper ushered him into a
sparely furnished room, where the
priest joined him almost Immediately.
II came, Father" the general
began nervously, and stopped short;
then went on, in more conven
tional tone Il feared you might be
| the worse for the excitement of yes
terday" He seemed i'll at ease and
almost shy, this man of the world who
| had felt at home in the courts Of
kings
| Father Huntington noted his embar-
rassment and thought he understood
| it. He fastened to try to put him at
his ease by taking the burden of the
| conversation upon himself and bear
| ing it into commonplace channels.
| Pointing out the only chairs of which
the room could boast, he suggested
that they should place them nearer
the window, through which the breeze
came delightfully."-; and when they
were seated he exclaimed warmly:
| But it is | who should have looked
you up today! | have not yet thanked
you for your generous care of me.
The good God alone knows what
| would have been the outcome if you
| had not appeared. | could hardly
credit it when | was told this morn
ing that you are not a Catholic
| Il did very little" the general re-
piled, so abruptly, almost brusQuely,
that Father Huntington, as old in eX-
perience as in years, began to sus-
pect that there was something he
| wanted to say, had come to say, some
| thing that lay too close to his heart
sc l. ,1f, nsi1 fhn inc
| of man reserved by nature and life
| long habit He could think of no way
of helping him, except to chat easily,
in the hope of putting him more at his
ease and giving him time to collect
his courage.
| Last night l thought that today l
should ask where you live and go and
tell you how grateful am. But had
| a bad night and a severe headache
| this morning. That little scene made
me intensely nervous, though at the
moment l felt calm enough. I'm
afraid l am becoming coward in my
old age. Years ago | did not know
the meaning of the word fear. Even
on the battlefield | thought nothing of
the danger
The generals face frightened. "Oh
you were soldier" he exclaimed.
Il was a chaplain during the Civil
War. l got my baptism of fire at
Gettysburg
My father was killed there" Gen
eral Johnston told him.
''Ah, you were but a boy then, when
you lost him. he said, with quick
sympathy. But you must be proud
too He paused, but his visitor sale
nothing in reply, so he went on.
Il shall never forget the least in
cident of those three days. Like the
man to another, hearing the comics
sions of all who were Catholics, ant
each had some message to send to one
whose heart, he knew, must break fol
him. One would beg me to give his
!, best love to his old father, or to hi:
mother, doubly widowed. Another
with his last quavering breath, would
send messages to his sweetheart
mere lad entrusted to me his tender
goodbye to his wife. 1t was will
difficulty that I traced her; little more
than a child, too, but patiently brave
as only good woman ever is. l re
member also
. Suddenly General Johnston inter
rupted him. Pardon me, Father, bu
H." He stammered, and coul(
make no Roadway. There was bu
one way open to him. AS long as ht
, held tight to any shred Of his habitua
dignified reserve his heart must be 81
lent. 1t was clamoring for expression
and when he spoke again he was
child before the kindest of fathers
There is something l wish to say
but | find it hard to explain Yo,
/, must have patience with me. Father
| and help me. Until | was fiftee1
. years of age | was sent to a Catholi,
school, | made my first communion
and was confirmed. | was rattle
pious, | think Then-then | wa
taken away from all Catholic infiu
ences, and given only atheistic book
to read. l lost my faith-but, Father
all the years-every day of all tn,
years. have bemoaned my loss
have longed for the peace driven from