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Show J dl)llFClj the victory t i which eyer 9 - Cometh the I J universal. 2. 1 8. Sunday, 2nd of Lent. St. John of Sod. K. i. Thess, iv- 1-7; G. Matt. Kvii, l-9.-r-443.793 for the departed. 9. Monday St. Frances of Rome. 231.282 for perseverance. 10. Tuesday The Forty Martyrs of St-baste. 232,579 for the young. 11. Wednesday. St. Eulogius. 178,857 '.or first communions. 12. Thursday. St. Gregory the Great. 163,250 for parents. 13. Friday. St. Euphrasia. 244,910 ; for families. 14. Saturday. St. Mathilda. 71,306 i for reconciliations. j "A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break" (By Louis Alexander Robertson.) A bruised reed he will not break, Though bitter blasts around it roar; I His faithful He will not forsake. (Yea. though the weary brain may ache, . The fainting flesh its fate deplore, i A bruised reed He will not break. The bravest heart at last may quake, The raven locks be frosted o'er; His faithful He will not forsake. Though winter winds the oak may i ' shake, j Tea, lay it low upon the moor, A bruised reed He will not break. Though unto grief each morn we wake, Let's not forget the crops He bore; His faithful He will not forscake. Lt us obey the words He spake, . And walk the way He went before, A bruised reed He will not break. His faithful He will not forsake. - Cloistral Strains. Hearing Mass. - For the honor of God and for their own good, St. Philip Neri used to exhort ex-hort his penitents to hear mass daily with devotion; this, he said, was the hest means to keep fervor and fidelity throughout the day, and to prepare for death. Our Lord said to St. Mechtil-dis: Mechtil-dis: "Receive it as a most certain truth, that if any one hears mass with devotion, I will send him at the hour of his death, as a consolation and defence, de-fence, as many glorious spirits who stand around my throne as he shall have heard masses with fervor and love." St. Hedwige's devotion to the holy mass, communicated Itself to her children. When the eldest and best loved son. Duke Henry, surnamed the ''Pious," advanced against a horde of Tartars, who were devastating Silesia, his first action on the morning of Jhe battle, was to have mass celebrated, at which he and every man in the army received holy communion. After exhibiting ex-hibiting the most signal valor. Henry was slain, and when St. Hedwige heard the news, she thanked Gor for having by such a death, admitted him to his kingdom of glory. !On the Eight Use of Crosses. ' : The greater our dread of crosses, the more necessary they are for us. Be npt cast down when the hand of God i is heavy upon you. We must meas- ! I pre the greatness of our evils by the violence ? tins remedies that the physician phy-sician of souls thinks necessary for eur cur;. We may make our trials a' sour 03 "of lev and confidence and consolation, paying with the Apostle, "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worheth for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of ' glory." Blessed are they who weep, they who so win tears, for they shall reap, with joy ineffable, the harvest of eternal life and felicity. ; St. Paul said: "'I am nailed to the " cross with Jesus Christ." Let us pray for his spirit of love and self-renunei-I at ion. What can be suffer that He has J not suffered? Weak, cowardly nature, I be silent, look at the Master, and be I ashamed to complain.- Let thy Jove j for him reconcile thee to thy cross; 1 then, though thou shalt suffer, it will I be willingly. Fer.elon. I The Baby's Plea. I "Well? Quick; what is it?" I The anguish of heartbreak was in I the women's voice, but the baby's cry, I as she crushed him against her breast, j rose shrill and indignant above it, and made the answer of the girl in the doorway a mere moving of lips. ! ' "Shut up, will you, you little limb oh, no. no. I don't mean it, darlin'! You ain't to blame. You don't know what it was made me crush you up. Theer, there the-re!" She rocked the ! tiny one violently back and forth in j an agony to hush it. "There, there, darlin'. mother's son oh, hush up! hush up! I've got to hear." Then in 1 a shiek to the girl at the door: "Moll j Tinker, how long you goin' to stan' I there openin and shuttin' your mouth? I Ain't you goin' to tell me? Pityin" I heart and me waitin here to know, till I the heart Of me's turned to water! 1 Ain't you goin' to speak? Ain't you J goin' to spe " The girl crossed the great bare room at a bound, and was at the woman's ( car. Under the momentary impatience i in her face lay genuine pity. "Don't say it -ai'ain, for gracious. Mis' Knapp " I'll . holler;. I guess you can hear, me now; rwi't you? Well, I saw i him. He's settjn', there just the same. I shouldn't think he'd moved." "Ain't Tie any 'different? Say his bend ain't held -up quite so defiiant, I Moll, not quite It'll tell against him; I know it will! ' You said he'd lowered it some, didn't you Moll? Why don't you answer?" , J "He's holdin1 ft up just the same,' I the girl said, slowly. "I cant help it. If fee don't know when hes rulnin ! himself, then he's a. fool." I The haggard woman, with the baby I in her arms, faced about wrathfully. 1 "Larry' aint' a fool, ar.d you know It, !Mo!l Tinker!"' she flashed. "It's his ay! Oh. what can I do? It's his I way! Underneath, he don't feel that way.. It's, only the outside. But it'll tell against him; I know it will!" "It's tellin,"' muttered the girl under her breath. She has seen the disap-f disap-f proving faces on the jury bench and I the stern face of the judge. She had I caught the fragments of talk" back by 5 the door. People said Larry Knapp was I bold as brass. How could they know j ' Jt was only "his way?" I Sufldenlv the haggard woman uttered J a CO- "I've got to go! I've got to j be there! I can't help it if the baby 1 is sick. You said you'd tell me in time. I Moll, is it time?" I "''f pretty near," shuddered the j fit". "I aked a man. Here, give the I . baby to mo, Mis' Knapp. If you ain't I pot "any hat, take mine. Ain't j-ou goin I to give him to me?" "He won't stay with you. He'd die ! i cry in'. I can't help it if he cries there ! I've got to go. I'm goin' to take him. I I can hush him up I've got to! I've got I to be there to cmile when Larry looks f up. "Do you think he's goin' to see 'em 1 all strange, aecusin' faces? rHe's got I to see mine there, smilin'. And it's I me he's gein' .to see when they come I , in, Moll," her voice sank to a whis- ! per, "you don't think they could've come in yet, do you? While you and me have been talkin' here? Pityin' heart, why didn't I go sooner?" "Hush, do! They can't come in till j they go out, can they? Well, they ain't gone out yet. The- man said it j wouldn't be before afternoon. The judge's got to charge 'em. ain't he? He ain't done that" yet. I Eaid I'd let you'" know in time, and ain't I? But you better go now if you're goin'." "If I'm goin'!" the trail little woman wo-man cried mightily. "If I'm goin" to Larry in the bitterest hour o' his need! Come j-es, you can carry him as far as the door. It won't hurt any if he cries out o' doors, and my strength needs savin'. Easy, Moll! there ain't any paddin' on his little bones. He's dreadful poor." They were hurrying away down the bare street in the noon sun's glare. The mother shielded the tiny old face with one of her rough, red hands. Her eyes dwelt on it. "To think his father ain't ever seen him! To think it'll be the first time there!" she sobbed softly, quieted somewhat from her frenzy. "Him look-in' look-in' up sudden think o' that, Moll and seein' the face of his son for the first time! It's queer to think of, ain't it? Oh, yes, it's queer! How could anything any-thing come round like that, when we were so happy a little while ago, me and Larry- That ain't the way things happen it ain't right!" She was sarely in need of her breath, and panted between the words. Yet she talked on drearily. . . "He's holdin' it up just the same," ed court room, waiting with defiant young face for his sentence, was charged with a grave crime. In a moment mo-ment of anger he had felled a comrade with a single blow of his big fist. The j injured man had rallied at first, and then suddenly sunk into a stupor and died. The doctors talked learnedly of complicating conditions, but the outlook out-look was dark for the prisoner. His stolid bearing was against him. "He had. provocation can't they see what provocation Larry had! When there's provocation it always counts, doesn't it, Moll? You've heard so time and often, haven't you? I have, too! The provocation Larry had had ought to help out, I tell you! Of course it will I hope you don't think I'm afraid, Moll Tinker! I'm only goin' there so's to smile when Larry looks up. We must hurry hurry. We're goin' so slow." Gasping and white, she got to the court room door and held out her arms for the sick child. "Now," she whispered in sudden; pale calm. "I'm goin' in now. . You tell somebody that I've got to have a seat up near Larry. I've got to I can't help it if the baby cries. We've got to go up there, ain't we, father's little son? Oh, you'll hush up for father, won't you, darlin'? Come, I'm ready, Moll." They went in. Some one made a way through the crowd and piloted the two up to the front. Some one made a chance for them near the prisoner at the bar. The lawyer for the defense was just winding up his verbose plea. There was already a restless expectancy expect-ancy evident on the weary faces of the crowd. It had been a tedious, hot morning. The haggard little woman's eyes swept the sea of faces rapidly and then whitened. She had not found what she sought. She had not found sympathy. Public opinion was against the man whose life or death seemed trembling in the balance. It was not so much to be wondered at, for all through the monotonous days of the trial he had sat t here defiant and scornful. The first shade of softness was yet to be seen on Lawrence Knapp's face. "It's his way it's his way," whispered whis-pered the little woman to the girl, her friend. "If they only knew it was Larry's way! It's outside if they could only see him inside! I can why can't they? That's the way he looked when his mother died hard, just like that. Just exactly, and don't I know how Larry loved his mother?" The judge got heavily to his feet. His face was grave and stern. The twelve faces of the jury, impenetrable and dread as fate itself, settled to fresh attention. Then the baby crined. A wailing piteous cry at first, "until it took on notes of pain, when it shrilled shrill-ed and sharpened. "Hush up oh, hush up!" breathed Larry's wife in agony. "Hush up for father, darlin'! You don't want them to put us out pityin' heart, this is the time I've got to be here! There, there, darlin', don't!" The judge was visibly annoyed. A frown gathered between his shaggy brows. But there came a short respite from the baby cry, and the deep voice of the judge filled it resonantly, as he began his charge. The mother's face relaxed with infinite relief, and she turned her attention instantly to the prisoner. But she could not meet his eye. Again and again she was ready with her brave smile, but in vain. The haughty young head of the prisoner lowered not an inch,, and the defiant eyes stared on steadily into the sea of faces. It was his way his way. Oh, if they could only know. The baby cried again this time a burst of anguish that settled into a steady, piteous moan. The mother rocked and hushed vainly. It kept on. And the Judge was getting impatient; a rustle of nervousness swayed the audience, au-dience, the lawyers, the jury. Suddenly something happened. The prisoner moved in his seat when had he moved before? He turned about suddenly, sud-denly, and what was this he was doing? He was holding .out his arms! "Give the little chap to me, Lindy; I can hush him up." That was what he was saying. He had the tiny, wailing one in his arms now. The tiny face was against his breast; he was swaying gently to and fro the baby had stopped crying.. -. A great silence filled the big, " bare place. Every eye was riveted on the prisoner's face, as .it bent over" the baby. The wonder of the change filled in it filled every soul with amazement. For the face of the young prisoner was tender and warm; could it ever have been hard and defiant? Not this one this face that nestled against the tiny one and gazed at it raptly. This was the face of a father who. looks at his son for the first time. But, heart of pity, what surroundings! What a background! back-ground! Men read the story and gazed in blank wonder. Women drew together and touched each other's hands. The pale little woman sobbed on the girl's faithful breast. A full minute two, three, four it lasted. The prisoner seemed lost to everything ev-erything but the moist, warm touch of the tiny face: He did not cease the gentle gen-tle swaying of his body for an instant, and people smiled presently and. prodded prod-ded each other, for the baby was asleep. A tiny one's bridge between trouble and unconsciousness is short, and there, in the, noisome, crowded room, in' that brief moment ' of silence, the tired baby had crossed the bridge into sleep. Calm and sweet it lay against the prisoner's breast, the prisoner's tender face above it. A throb of sympathy rose in the crowd and traveled over it from side to side like a wave. , Then the judge went on. Whatever he might have said who knows? Whether he were swayed by pity or the memory of a little face against his own, at some first rapt momentwho mo-mentwho can tell? This is true that what he said was undertoned with gentleness gen-tleness and clemency. And the twelve listening faces took on mercy as a visible vis-ible veil. "It's tellin'," murmured the girl be side the haggard mother. "It's tellin'." And it told. It was a softened sentence sen-tence they brought in somewhat later. When the young father handed back the sleeping baby it was not without the hope of holding it again in his arms1 before it had quite outgrown its sweetness sweet-ness of babyhood. "Take care of him. Lindy, and keep him a little un. till I get out," he said, earnestly. "I hanker to put him to sleep again." Annie Hamilton DonnelU in The Southern Churchman. Lent. Lent has been observed at a time of fasting and prayer in the Catholic church from the time of the Apostles, and stands upon the same foundation founda-tion as the observation of the Lord's day, that is, upon apostolical tradition. tra-dition. It is mentioned by the early fathers in innumerable places, and the transgressors trans-gressors of this solemn fast of forty days were severely punished by the canons of the primitive Church. We may prove the apostolic origin of Lent bv a rule laid down by St. Augustine: That what is found not to have had its institution from any council, but to have been ever observed by the universal church, that same musC needs have come from the first fathers, the founders of the Church, that is, from the Apostles. But the fast of Lent is not found to have had its in stitution from any council, but to have been observed fiom all ages from the very beginning amongst all Christian people from east to west, therefore the fast of I-nt is an apostolical ordinance and tradition. The fast of Lent was instituted that we might yearly imitate the fast of our Lord for forty days in the desert. Matthew iv, 2. Secondly, that we might more particularly par-ticularly consecrate party of the year to God by prayer and fasting. Thirdly, that by this forty days fast, joined with prayer and alms deeds, we might do penance for the sins of the whole year. Fourthly, that we might, at this time enter into a kind of spiritual exercises ex-ercises and a retreat from the world and its pleasures and amusements, look more narrowly into the state of our souls, repair our decayed strength, and provide effectual remedies against our usual failings for time to come. Fifthly, that by this solemn fast we must celebrate, in a penitential spirit, the passion of Christ, which we particularly par-ticularly commemorate in Lent, in fine that this might be a time of repentance and preparation for the great solemnity solem-nity of Easter, and for the Paschal communion. Whispering In Church. The following words are addressed by a Protestant bishop Bioshp Huntington Hunt-ington to a Protestant people. How much more, closely do they apply to Catholics in whose churches God Himself Him-self body and blood, soul and divinity, is on the altar? "The worst of all kinds of sound in church is that of human voices not engaged in the services; serv-ices; worst in indecency, worst in moral transgression. Even religious conversation Is wrong; secular conver- j sation is profanity. Comments on the service itself, if favorable and friendly, are impertinent; if critical, are disgraceful; dis-graceful; if comical or calculated to . provoke laughter, are infamous. . For ' all mutual communications that appear ap-pear to be necessary, a sufficient forethought fore-thought would, in most instances, obviate ob-viate the necessity. If those who whis- per would think twice first, they would commonly see that no serious harm would come of keeping still till after the service. The insult lies against His courts, against the authorities of the Church, against the congregation. A whisper reaches father than the whisperer whis-perer imagines. And wherever it reaches it may rightly stir indigna- j tion. It is a form of ill manners, the ! more deplorable because it is scarcely j capable of rebuke and suppression by I any other means than a general sense j of good behavoir and a right educa- ; tion." ; A Little Way to Go. j Thy hands are such dear hands; They are so full; they turn at our demands de-mands So often; they reach out With trifles scarcely thought about; So many times they do So many things for me, for you If their fond wills mistake, We e'er must bend, not break. They are such fond, frail lips That speak to us. Pray, if love strips Them of discretion many times, Or if they speak too slow, or quick, such crimes We may pass by, for we may see Days not far off when those sm&21 words may be j Held not as slow, or quick, or out of place, but dear, Because the lips are no more here. j They are such dear familiar feet that go Along the path with ours, feet fast or slow, And trying to keep pace if they mistake, mis-take, Or tread upon some flower that we" would take, We must be meek, not turning quickly to impart Grave fault; for they and we Have such a little way to go can be Together such a little while along the way We will be patient while we may. So many little faults we. find! We see them, for Love is not blind. . We see them, but if you and I Perhaps remember them, some by and by . " ; They will not be faults then, that we shall see. Grave faults to you and me But just odd ways, mistakes, or even less, Remembrances to bless. Days change so many things yes, hours; We see so differently in sun and showers; show-ers; Mistaken words tonight May be so cherished in tomorrow's light! We must be patient, for we know, There's such a little way to go! v SHORT SERMONS. Do not murmur if your life seems to be monotonous. The clock that stands still points the correct hour twice during dur-ing the twenty-four, while others may keep continually going and be constantly con-stantly wrong. Lacordaire says: "A happy and comfortable com-fortable life readily produces listless-ness listless-ness of soul. We enjoy ourselves innocently, inno-cently, and yet little by little the spring gets weakened, prayer becomes irksome, irk-some, self-denial is forgotten, we get into a neutral state as regarls God, which robs us of the joys of conscious love. The only cure I can see for this is to give God certain regular moments daily, to bind oneself down to certain outward acts, which may withdraw us from time to time from our insensibility. insensibil-ity. If meditation is hard, spiritual reading might be able to rouse you." a. Some men will follow Christ on certain cer-tain conditions if He will not lead them through rough roads, if the sun and wind do not annoy them, if He will remit a part of his plan and order. But the true Christian, who has the spirit of Jesus, will say, as Ruth said to Naomi, Nao-mi, "Whither, thou goest I will go," whatever difficulties and dangers may be in the way. Let your countenance be always open and smiling; let your soul be lively, so ardent, so impetuous; bloom inwardly like a meadow watered by limpid and fresh sprjiigs. With such dispositions you will love piety; for it will no longer terrify you, you will take it' Tor your companion and it will make the happiness of your whole life. You will become also a fair ornament for religion and the sight of you alone will have something angelic beyond expression ex-pression which will attract souls to God. Msgr. Landriot. Unworldliness isthis to hold things from God in the perpetual convicion that they will not last; to have the world, and not to let the world have us; to be the world's masters, and not the world's slave. F. W. Robertson. Robert-son. When you feel ill and indisposed, and when in this condition your prayer is cold, heavy, filled with despondency, apd even despair, do not be disheartened disheart-ened or despairing, for the Lord knows your sick and painful condition. Struggle Strug-gle against your infirmity, pray as much as you have strength to, and the Lord will not despise the infirmity of your flesh and spirit. It is better to say one's morning prayers today than to . resolve to become be-come a saint next week. Today is here, and next week is nowhere T?iis day is mine. I know not if I shall have so much as one other. God has the past and the. future. I will thank him for the past, I will beg him for the future. As to the present, with God's help I will set to work and do my utmost. |
