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Show -Our "Boys ana 8iri$... EB'TED gy AUNT D'JSY. Address si' ,ttr. . . -thnH. swu T."kL rity AUnt Rus mermounta! " - . LETTERS AND ANSWERS. l.r Aunt BHW fil SCLmenot ?ocJ f uUr fond nephew iMsS: more 80il TMT Iiffhtly: Do n; THE WAITING OFMICHAiLROONEY. "To the Memory of Mieharl Rocmex, tliU simple sim-ple Mone was erected by hi, fellow workmen." I hese words the passers-by may read, anv dav upon A plain white slab in the cemetery of e certain cer-tain American city. But the passer might read ihm ft hundred time? without jrush.p at the little Tragedy they indicate without knowing: the lutrr-blft lutrr-blft romance which ended with the placing of that stone above the dust of one poor ami humble man! I y- i" i w bby 3acket anJ m"d-laden brogan?. I Michael Kooney was scarcely an attractive object as he walked into Mr. Camp's preat tin and hard ware store one day, and presented himself at the counter with "I've been told yc advertised for ham'" "rull.v supplied, my man." said Mr. Camp, not Mtmg; his head from his account book. "T'd work faithful, sir. and take low wags till I could do better; and I'd learn 1 would ihat."' The words were Spoken with an Irish brogue-?md brogue-?md Mr. Camp did not like the Irish. Yet the tone attracted him. He turned briskly, and, with his pen behind his ear, he addressed the man who was only ! ' one of some fifty who had answered his advertise ment, that morning, for four workmen. . . ''What makes you expect to learn faster than -'V- other folks Are you any smarter :"" Mr. Camp ' -I'll not say that." said the man: "but I'd be wishing: to; and that 'ud make it easier." "Are you used to the work '. " "I've done a bit of it." -Muchr "No, yer honor. I'll tell no lie; but I do know a bit about tins' "You are too old for an apprentice, and you'd only be in the way. I calculate." said Mr. Camp. ''The Holy Virgin will have to be afther bringin' ; rn over in her two arms, thin." said the man. de-I de-I spairingrly, "for I've tramped every day for the lat fortnight; and niver a job can I get. and that's the last penny I hare; and it's but a half one." As lie spoke he spread his palm open, and displayed dis-played an English halfpenny. "Bring whom over?" asked Mr. Camp, arrested by the odd speech as he was turning away. "Jist Nora and Jamesy." "Who ar they?" "The wan's me wife, and the other me child." . said the man. "Ob. sir, just thry me! How'll I ever briDg em over to me if no one will give me a job! I want to be aiming, and the whole big city seems against it, and me with arms like thim." ' "Til hire you for a week," he said; "and now. as it's noon, go down into the kitchen, and ask the girl to give you your dinner; a hungry man can't work." And, with an Irish blessing, the new hand obeyed, while Mr. Camp went upstairs to his own meal. Michael Kooney worked hard and learned fast. At the end of a week he was engaged permanently. and coon he was the best workman in the shop. He was a great talker, but was not fond of drink, or of wasting money. As his wages grew he hoarded -very penny, and wore the same clothes in which he had made his first appearance. , . "Every cent I spend," he said one day, "puts off ' v the bringing of Nora and Jamesy over. Better no V- oat to me back than n wile and no boy by me l t; fireside; and. anyhow, it's slow work saving." , It was slow work; but he kept at it. Other men. thoughtless and full of fun, tried to make him l .; drink, coaxed him to accompany them to places of amusement, or 6hare in their Sunday frolics. All " in vain. Michael Kooney liked fun. liked com panionship; but. he would not delay the long-looked-for bringing of Nora over: and he was not ''mano enough" to accept, favors of others which he could not repay. He kept on hi way a martyr to his one great wish living on little, working at night on any tra job by which he could earn a. trifle, and talking to anyone who would listen to his one great hope, f- and of "Nora and Jamesy." At first the men, who prided themselves on being fill Americans, and on turning out the best work in the citj-, made a sort of butt of Kooney and his Irish ways. But, he won their hearts at last ; and when, one day. mounting on a workbench, he shock his little bundle, wrapped in a red handkerchief, before their eyes and snouted. "Look. boys. I've got the whole at last; I'm goin' to bring Nora and Jamesy over!" all felt a sympathy in his joy. and each grasped rhis brawny hand in cordial congratulation. congrat-ulation. They parted in a merry mood, most of the men. going to comfortable homes. But Michael Rooney's resting place was a poor lodging house, where, he shared a garret with four other men; and, in the ior of his heart, the poor fellow exhibited his handkerchief hand-kerchief with his hard-earned savings tied un in a hard knot in 1 ' " middle, before he put it under his. pillow and f Vep. When he awakened in the morning he - bis treasure gone. . V jt fiT9t , 7 ,,i not believe lhat it. was lost. Tjp searched h.1 '. f r the room, shook his quilt and N blanket, and 1 -Vf those about him to "quit jok- ing and give if tOi-V." But at last he :ealized the truth. "Is any man that had to thieve it from mef" v he asked. "Boys, is any man that bad'f" Is And some one answered, "No doubt of it, Kooney; it's stolen." , . , , , Then Michael Kooney put hts head down on his hands and rrept. It seemed more than he could hear to hare Nora and the child put months away from him again. But when he wont to work, that day. it seemed to all who saw him that, he had picked up a new determination; his hands were never idle. At noon he scratched out. a letter, blotted and very -ttwngelv scrawled, telling ora what had hap-) hap-) rned: and the men notinced that he had no meat, with his dinner. , , Indeed from that moment he lived, on bread, otsW. snd ooid rotcr and worked so f n m worked before. It zrew to be the talk, of the j sdiop; and everyone wanted to help Kooney. .lobs were thrown in his way. and kind words and friendly wihes helped him mightily; but no power "onld make him share the food or drink of any other workman. That seemed a sort of chsrify to him. Still he was helped along. Ar present from Mr. Cjttnp a- pay-day set Nora, as he said, "a week nearer." At last, even before he had hoped it he was able to say, "I'm going to bring them over," and to show his handkerchief, in which, as before, he had tied up hi earnings this time, however, only shown to his friends. Cautious among strangers, he hid his treasurer, and kept his vest buttoned j over it. night and day. until the passage tickets had bcn bought and sent. Then every man. woman, and child capable of hearing or understanding under-standing knew that Nora and the bay were coming. The days flew by. and brought at last a letter from Michatrl Kooney s wife. "She would start," she said, "as he desired; and she was well, and so was the boy. and might Heaven bring them safe to each other's arms, and bless those who had been so j kind to him." That was the substance of the epistle that Miehatel Kooney proudly assured the men Nora had written herself. She had lived, at service, as j a girl, with a certain good old lady, who had given I her an education, the items of which Kooney told upon his fingers. "The readitf. that's one; and the i writin' that three; and moreover she knows all lhat a woman can." Then he looked at the men and a?ked. "Do yc wondher thai the time stems so long between me and her. boys?" So. it was Nora at the dawn of day. Xora at noon, and Nora at night, until the news came that ihe good ship Kathleen had come into port. It happened on a holiday afternoon, and half a dozen men were ready 1o go with Michael Kooney to the vessel and -give his wife a welcome. Her little home was ready. Mr. Camp's own servant had put it in order. "She hadn't the like of lhat in the ould coun-thry." coun-thry." said Kooney when all was arranged, "but she'll know how to keep it in order. At last the dock was reached. A crowd of vehicles ve-hicles blockaded the street! a troop of emigrants eaine thronging up; fine cabin passengers were stepping into cabs; and drivers and porters were shouting in the usual manner. Xora would wait on board for her husband he knew that. The little group made their way info the vessel, ves-sel, and Miehatel Kooney searched for the two so dear to him. patiently at first, but by-and-by, i growing anxious and excited. i "Why don't you ask the Captain j" said one. and Kooney jumped at the idea. In a few moments he stood before the Captain, who nodded to him kindly. "I'm looking for my wife, sir." he said; "and I can't find her. 1 bade her wait for me." "Women don't always do as they are told, you know." said the captain. "Nora would." said Michael Kooney, "but maybe she didn't come." At the name of Nora the captain started. Next moment he asked, "What is your name!!" "Mike Kooney. sir." "And your wife was Xora ?" "That's her name, and the boy with her is Jamesy." The captain looked at Kooney. and then said "Sit down, mv man: I've got something to tell you." " "She's left behind '." the husband asked. She sailed with us." said the captain. "My man we all have our trials; Heaven sends them. Yes, Xora started with us." Michael Kooney said nothing. He was looking at the captain, white and speechless. "It has been a sickly season; we had illness on board the cholera." said the captain. "Many of our passengers died many children. "When we were half way over your boy was taken sick " "Jamesy!" gasped poor Kooney. "His mother watched him. night and day." the captain went on; ''and we did all we could; but at last he died. only one of many. There were five buried lhat same day." Kooney groaned aloud. "Keep up it you can. my man. said the captain. "That night, his mother Nora was taken ill also, very suddenly; and she grew worse very fast. Jn the morning she called me to her and said: 'Tell Michael Kooney I died thinking of him: tell him to meet me.' And my man, she never 4 aid anything more; ain an hour she was gone." Kooney had risen, and stood up. trying to steady himself, looking at the captain with dry eyes; then turning to his friends, he said "Boys, I've got me death," and dropped to the deck like n hg. They raised him and bore him away to the little bed which had been made ready for Xora wearied after iter long journey. There t last he opened his eyes. Mr. Camp bent over him, and the room was full of Kooncy's fellow-workmen. "Better, Kooney?'' asked Mr. Camp. A dale sight betther." said Kooney; "it's easy, now. I'll be with her soon. And. look ye. master, I've learned one thing Gpd is good. He wouldn't let me bring Nora over, but He's taking me over to ier ,,d Jamesy over ihe river. Don't you see it, and her astanding- on the other side?" And with those words Michael Kooney stretched out his arms. Perhaps he did sec Nora Heaven only knows; and so he died. New World. THE PASCAL CANDLE. The blessing of the Paschal Caudle is one of the most imposing ceremonies of Holy Saturday. Some have attributed the origin of this rite to Pope St. Zosimus. who reigned from 417 to 418; but the Avords of the Koman Brevary, n the sixth lesson of this holy pope's office, lead us to infer that it was already'in use in the Basilicas or greater churches and that Zozimus extended it to the parishes. "He granted permission to the parishes to bless the Paschal Pas-chal Candle." This blessed candle is much larger f nan those that are commonly used in ecclesiastical ceremonies. It was customary in some dioceses to have one weighing thirty-three pounds, to represent the years of our Saviors mortal life. The wax of which it is made is an emblem of the glorified body of the risen, Jesu and therefore the candle is lighted on all the Sundays of the Easter time, but extinguished and removed after the gospel of Ascension day, to indicate indi-cate that he whom it represent? is no longer among his children, under the outward appearance of humanity, hu-manity, but only under the sacramental species of ' bread and wine. There are five incisions in the Paschal Candle, arranged in the form of a cross, into which five, grains of incense are put during the blessing. The holes represent the five wounds, the marks of which our Lord keep, and will forever keep, in his most acrd bodr. Like fire suns, those wounds are now hcddingr dirine lustre over the blessed court of heaven and are, according to theologians, the mute but most efficacious intercession of our Lord with hi eternal father for' the members of "the church militant and the church suffering. The grains of incense reprctent the spices with winch the holy corpse, was embalmed by Josxph of Arimathca aaid Nicodemus. The deacon of the mass, not the cele-' cele-' brant priest. bleses the Paschal Candle, to show that the two disciples whom we have just mentioned, i not the apostles, had the. precious privilege granted i to them of preparing the dead body for entombment. I and that our Lord manifested himself on the day of his resurrection to Mary Magdalen, and the pious women before he appeared to St. Peter or any of the apostles. The proese or preface which the deacon chants in the ceremony of the blessing is called the Exnltet. from the word with which it begins. It is the composition com-position of the great St. Augustine, who died in the fifth century, and is one of the most beautiful and touching relics of the ancient Liturgy, which has come down to us. A list of the movable feasts wa sometimes attached at-tached to the Paschal Candle, or even cut into the wax. Tin's custom existed at Koucn and Cluny until un-til the last century. The present Roman Pontifical Pontif-ical prescribes that the movable feasts of the year be proclaimed on the festival of the Epiphany. Flowers were profuceIy wreathed around the candle. can-dle. "What more fitting and festive." says an old Ambrosian Missal, "than to adorn the Flower v( Jesus with flowers?" In the blessing of the baptismal font the Pas dial Candle is plunged three times info the water, the celebrant praying meantime that the virtue of the Holy Spirit may descend into the sacred font The immersion of the candle is emblematic of Christ's descent into the waters of the Jordan to receive Baptism, and its elevation, of our resurrection, resurrec-tion, as the effect of the Sacrament, from sin to a life of grace. Christ has redeemed us. by His Passion, from thr bandage of Satan, the world and the flesh; v. boudage a thousand times more galling than wa-that wa-that of Egypt to the children of Israel. The Paschal Pas-chal Candle represents Ilim as our (.Juide through the desert, of life to the Promised Land of Heaven. When lighted, it is the pillar of tire that illumined the Hebrew tamp by night; when extinguished, it is the cloud that directed their march by day. Jesus! May Thy Easter Candle keep us ever in mind of Thee. May it teach us to love Thee and to fear Thee, for Thou art set up both for the resurrection resur-rection and the ruin of many in Israel. That resurrection res-urrection is Thy gift: the ruin. if. unfortunately, it should be ours, will be of our making. Destruction Destruc-tion is thy own. O Israel: thy help is only in Me (Osec. xiii. 0). flew William J. Barry in Newark-Monitor. |