Bolax, Imp or Angel—Which?

"We will give up all reading, except books that lead our thoughts to holy things, not necessarily dull or uninteresting because they are holy. You know how delighted you were with 'Fabiola,' 'Faber's Tales of the Angels,' 'Babies Who Died for Christ,' 'The Little Spouse of the Blessed Sacrament.'"

"I should like to read 'Fabiola' again Ma, dear," said Amy. "I always feel—I don't know exactly how to describe my feelings after reading such a book as 'Fabiola'—happy, calm, a longing to have been one of the first Christians to have loved our dear Lord as did little St. Agnes."

"And I," said Bo, "wouldn't I enjoy going round with the big soldier Quadratus, and tearing down the Emperor's edicts against the Christians. Oh, wouldn't I play tricks on those mean old Pagans; I tell you I'd make them skiddoo."

"Mamma," said Amy, pointing to a painting of Ecce Homo, "I do so love that sad face; sometimes when I sit here and look at it intently, the eyes seem to open. Once I was so sure of it, I got Hetty to take the picture down. Oh, I feel so sorry for our dear Lord, especially his crown of thorns. Why, oh why, couldn't they have taken it off while he was carrying the cross. He must have struck His sacred head against the cross as he staggered under its heavy weight up that awful road to Calvary," and the gentle, tender-hearted girl sobbed aloud.

Bolax, at this, jumped up, dashing a book against the wall and kicking his chair, he exclaimed: "Oh, if I had been there I would have gotten a crowd of boys and thrown stones at those awful executioners! Surely lots of boys must have known and followed Jesus—what cowards they were! You don't hear of any one offering to help Him; every one was afraid except brave, glorious St. Veronica."

"My dear impetuous boy, I am comforted to know you think of and feel for our suffering Savior."

"What you would have done had you been present at the awful scene on the road to Calvary, do now, by making sacrifices of your own will, suffering something for the love of Jesus."

"You must not compare the American boy with the boys of those long ago times; the Roman soldiers who were driving Jesus were naturally cruel and rejoiced in having a victim on which to exercise their cruelty. They would have exterminated even a crowd of men had they dared to interfere, and boys would have been crushed to death instantly. Mercy was an unknown virtue to the people of those days."

"Mamma," said Amy, "thinking of my general Confession, I feel I must ask your advice on one subject; is it a sin to pray for animals?"

"Oh, Ma, dear," interrupted Bolax, "I want to ask about that too."

"Elmer Mullen laughed at me when I told him I always prayed for poor horses, dogs and cats that I saw badly treated. Sometimes I beg men and boys to cease their cruelties; often I fight those that won't stop tormenting animals, then when all fails I just pray for the poor things. And Ma, dear, while I think of it, did you ever see a nanny goat faint?"

Serious little Amy burst out laughing at the odd question, and Bo's earnest expression of countenance when asking it.

"It's nothing to laugh at, Sister. I'll tell you how it happened. Tom Burk and Dan Donavan were trying to make their goat pull them in a little wagon, but she was not able; they beat her and she fell over and shut her eyes. I stooped over her and rubbed her head. Then a man came, and after a long wait she came to, and he ordered the boys to take poor Nanny into the stable."

"My dear, kind boy, we will have to make you President of the 'Prevention of Cruelty Society.' Several people have told me what a little champion you have shown yourself on many occasions."

"Well," said Amy, "I cannot fight to prevent cruelty, but all my life I have prayed for that intention. When I pray for a poor over-laden horse or a homeless, starved dog, I always say, 'Dear God, you made these creatures, surely you cannot be angry if I ask you to have pity on them.'"

Mrs. Allen put her head down on the table to hide her emotion, but the children thought it was because she was shocked at what they had told her about the prayers. Amy put both her hands on her mother's arm, saying: "Ma dear, oh, I hope it was not a mortal sin! And just to think I never confessed it! I never thought it was a sin at all."

Here Mrs. Allen raised her head, tears were in her eyes. Bolax put his arms around her neck, saying: "Dear, dear Ma, is it really so bad a sin as to cause you to weep?"

"My darlings, bless your dear compassionate hearts. I must plead guilty of the very same sin. Without ever letting any one know it, since my childhood I have prayed that the cruel driver might have mercy on his poor horse; that the starving animals might be helped in some way. I prayed that a mercy stroke might be given the dying horses on the battlefield; that the God of Compassion would have pity on the thousands of sheep and cattle who perish miserably on the unsheltered plains. Oh, surely our prayers are not lost! Many saints were renowned for their love of the brute creation; dear St. Francis of Assisi called them his little brothers and sisters. So let us hope our dear Lord will not be offended for what we have done in a spirit of pity and love for His dumb creatures."

CRY OF THE LITTLE BROTHERS.

E. M. Barby.

Bolax Goes to the Convent of St. Imelda.

On July sixth Mrs. Allen took her son to the Convent, where Reverend Mother Gertrude received them cordially, and placed Bolax under the care of Sister Joseph, who was to be his special instructress for Holy Communion.

For a few days he felt homesick, but soon got over it. The good Sisters had always some work or play to occupy their pupils, so that time never seemed long or lonely to the boys.

As the school was only eight miles from Midville, some one went down every week and all the household sent letters to our boy. Reverend Mother gave Mrs. Allen an invitation to spend the three days of the retreat in the Convent with her children, as Amy's health would not permit her to remain away from her mother's care.

Convent of St. Imelda.

Dearest Mother and all at Home: You will be glad to know that I am well and happy. My First Holy Communion is always in my mind, and I am doing all I can to prepare for the great day. I went to Confession to the Chaplain Father Drumgool, and I will make my General Confession in one week's time.

Please come down to see me as soon as you get this, I want to see you particularly, bring Sister Amy, I want Mother Gertrude and the Sisters to see her. I make two visits to the Blessed Sacrament every day, and beg our Lord to make me worthy to receive Him.

Your loving son,

Bolax.

July 18th.

My Beloved Son: Yours just received, and oh how it gladdens my heart to know you are contented.

I dream of you every night, and my heart longs for you, but I know it is best for your soul to be with the blessed Sisters. The longer you are in such a heavenly place, the less you will feel like leaving it. I look back at my Convent days as the happiest of my life.

Papa has felt less pain in his arm for the last few days, so your prayers are being heard already. God bless you, darling, and make you a good and sincere Catholic.

Mamma.

Offer all your actions, even your play, as so many prayers that your First Communion may be a very holy one. Sister sends her dearest love; pray that she may be able to make her retreat with you at the Convent.

Your loving,

Mother.

Home, July 26th.

My Dear Little Nephew: Your mother was so glad to see something belonging to you that she actually kissed the bundle of your soiled clothes. Oh, dear child! I wonder if you ever will repay that mother for her adoring love of you. All she asks in return is, that you will always be a fervent Catholic all the days of your life. Don't disappoint her.

Several of the boys were here asking for you, but we did not explain why you were away, as they would not understand about First Holy Communion. Elmer came and was so glad to hear of you being in the Convent.

Amy and I will be down to see you in a day or two. I will then tell all the news, so this letter will have to be short.

Your loving Aunt,

Lucy Allen.

Dear Little Master: Wherever you be, do stop for a moment and listen to me, while here on this paper I try to relate how sad we dogs are; not knowing your fate. "Mamma Fan" says you're dead, that she ought to know, for all her three puppies told her so.

They miss the big giant who came every day to love them and squeeze them while she was away.

Tot went to your room and snuffed all around, then he cried very loud, for all that he found was just an old shoe, torn inside and out. Oh! said he, now I know Bolax's whereabout, those "Goblins" have caught him, cause he wouldn't "watch out."

Your lovingest dog,

Don.

My Honey Boy: You' old Hetty miss you night and day. Law! de howse done got so still, even de dogs notis it.

Ef I say you' name dey looks all round, and den dey whynes when they kant find you.

I'se hopen you is goin' to get relijon enuff to last you de rest of you' life. Pat sends love, he kant rite, so he axed me to rite dat for him.

You is prayen for me, I no, bekose dat pane I had in my bak and my nee, is done gone.

God bless you, dis is from you' own old

Hetty.

August 8th.

Soul of My Heart: Your conduct yesterday showed wonderful improvement.

I noticed your patience on two occasions, then your willingness to go without the candy although I could see you wanted it.

All this shows you are learning the Catholic spirit of mortification, or, as you will better understand it; giving up what is most pleasing to us, and bearing with little privations. You are now I hope doing all this with good will, as a preparation for your First Holy Communion.

Our Lord will notice each act of self-abnegation made for His sake.

How like Heaven that Convent is. Often in dreams I am in my old Convent singing the hymns, walking in the May procession, but most glorious of all were the First Communion days. The hymn for that day comes back to me now and thrills my heart.

O darling; how I would love to shield you from all the trials of the world. O offer myself to our Lord as a victim; to do with me what He will, send me any cross or trial, no matter how hard to bear, if only He receives my children among His chosen ones and secures their eternal salvation.

Be very attentive to all the instructions you receive, and do all in your power to make a perfect preparation for the great grace you will receive.

O my beloved! in after years, when troubled with worldly cares, it will be a consolation to look back on these days of holiness and peace. Thoughts of them will come upon you, long after the heart that dictates these words of love shall have ceased to throb, and the hand that pens them shall be—dust.

Mamma.

St. Xavier's College.

Dear Little Friend: I congratulate you sincerely on your happy privilege of receiving our Lord. It is a good thing on this occasion to make good resolutions, but you must not rest satisfied with making them, you must turn all the energy of your will to keeping them exactly as you made them.

It is not right to pledge one's word to God, and afterwards take no pains to carry out the promise. If you promised a boy of your own age something and then neglected your word, the boy would despise you.

It is much worse to treat God with neglect. I do hope that after your First Holy Communion you will strive hard to overcome your defects, to correct the faults that your Mother notices in you.

That you will endeavor to give the greatest satisfaction to your parents is our Lord's wish, and mine. They have labored so much for you, suffered so much; your mother especially, they have had so much trouble with you when you were a helpless infant, that it would be the greatest ingratitude now, when you are able, not to seek to give them pleasure and comfort.

Another reason for paying the closest attention to what your parents say is that they are your best friends, all they want from you is for your good; so if you are docile and obedient you will become a good man, and not one that we should be ashamed of in after life.

Say your prayers every evening, renew your good resolutions every morning, and promise to obey in everything, and I am sure you will become a good man.

Your friend in Christ,

Aloysius Rocofort, S. J.

Marquette College, August 14th.

Master Bolax Allen.

My Dear Little Friend: Your letter has given me a great deal of pleasure. At first I could not think who was writing; then I remembered you are the boy who wished I might live a hundred years. So this is the eve of your First Holy Communion!

Well dear, you have my best prayers that your heart may be adorned with all the virtues that will make it worthy of so great a grace.

You write a nice letter, just the kind Claude used to write. I hope you will love your religion and hate sin as did little Claude Lightfoot.

Your friend in Christ,

F. J. Finn, S. J.

On August 12th the children's Retreat opened, Mrs. Allen and Amy took the train in the morning so as to arrive at St. Imelda's before noon. Their first visit was to the Chapel, then Sister Joseph conducted them over the house and grounds. Bolax insisted on showing the "Most beautiful cows in the world," as he termed the well-kept Convent herd.

The Retreat opened at four in the afternoon, with Rosary and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.

The order of exercises were Holy Mass at half past six. Then breakfast. A walk in the grounds; spiritual reading, Stations of the Cross, not the prayers in books, but some story told at each station, then an act of contrition, and a prayer for the holy souls.

After dinner Bo was asked to help Sister Martha to weed the garden and gather vegetables, so that he might join work to prayer. He was delighted to think he could be of use, but, of course, the dear sister only wanted to give him occupation, that he might not feel the silence of the retreat too monotonous.

Amy made many visits to the Blessed Sacrament, indeed she would have remained hours in the Chapel if allowed. Mrs. Allen read interesting and instructive spiritual books, especially one by Père Bordalou on the "Last Supper." This she read every day, because she was anxious that it should be deeply engraven on her children's minds and hearts.

After the evening meal some of the Sisters would sit with the family under the trees in the garden, or walk about the beautiful grounds. One day Amy pointed to a bed of lilies of the valley, saying: "Sister, when I die I want to be buried under those lilies." "My darling," exclaimed her mother, startled by the earnest manner of the child, "don't talk of dying, what would I ever do without my little daughter. Oh, no, my precious, our Lord will surely spare you to help me, besides you know, you are your father's guardian angel. I depend on your prayers, particularly for his conversion."

Lucy and Mr. Allen were anxious to be present at the ceremony on the fifteenth of August, but there was no hotel in the vicinity of the Convent and no train could be had from Midville at so early an hour.

Mother Gertrude said, Miss Lucy could come to the Convent, then she went to see one of her friends, a Mrs. O'Donnell, who lived a short walk from the Convent gate; this lady gladly offered to receive Mr. Allen for the night, so both father and aunt had the pleasure of being present at the ceremony in the morning.

The Feast of the Assumption was celebrated with unusual splendor at St. Imelda's. Five little girls renewed their First Communion, dressed in white and wearing wreaths and veils. Amy's costume was very plain, but spotlessly white and new; her mother did not approve of dressing children in finery for so sacred a function, lest thoughts of their outward appearance should divert their mind from the holy act they were about to perform.

Mr. Allen and kind Mrs. Donald were at the Chapel door just as the Angelus bell was ringing; they were ushered into a seat by one of the Sisters. At ten minutes of six the organ played a grand prelude and all the Sisters and children sang: "Jesus, My Love, is Mine Today."

It was a most impressive scene; the soft, solemn music, the devout attention of the children, even the little boys so still and respectful.

Mr. Allen had never before witnessed such devout Worship.

When the time came to approach the altar, Reverend Mother led the children to the communion rail, while the choir sang soft and low, "Come Into My Heart, Dear Jesus, Come."

Little Amy looked so white and seemed to tremble.

The priest stood with the Sacred Host in his hands; slowly and with evident emotion, repeating the "Domine non sum dignus."

The children then returned to their seats with hands joined and eyes cast down; Amy's cheeks, which had been so pale were now delicately colored. There was such a transformation. It seemed that a smile from heaven played around her lips, to give them angelic grace.

After Mass the children were clasped in their parents' arms, and all the sisters and friends congratulated them on their happiness.

In taking leave Mr. Allen thanked the Reverend Mother most heartily for her kindness to his family and expressed himself as being "almost conquered."

Mrs. Allen remained with her children for the afternoon services, which were: The renovation of the Baptismal vows, Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament and a short sermon.

The Chaplain's Address to the First Communicants.

Dear children I do not intend speaking to you of Faith. I am sure yours is firm and sincere. I come only to remind you of your promises made to our blessed Lord this morning, to ask you to fill your hearts to overflowing with love. Love for our merciful Jesus in all stages of His life and death, but particularly love for Him in the divine Sacrament.

Love makes all things easy! so dear children, never tire asking the Blessed Mother of Jesus to give you of the love which filled her heart, that yours may ever be adorned with the virtues which will make it a fit abiding place for your merciful and sweet Saviour.

Love for Jesus will give you patience to bear with the contradictions and crosses you meet with; even little children have crosses. They may be reprimanded for a fault which another committed; bear the reproof patiently for the love of Jesus; a companion may be harsh and unjust towards you, be glad that you have something to suffer for love of Jesus. A bouquet of sacrifices to offer at the end of each day, will be more acceptable than if it were the most exquisite flowers culled from your gardens.

Dearest children come as often as you can to the Holy Table, don't be afraid—don't think of your unworthiness, no one ever was entirely worthy of Holy Communion, except the Blessed Mother of Jesus.

Come! I say, eat this heavenly bread that you may be strong to resist all temptations, that you may learn to love our Lord devotedly on earth, so as to be prepared for an eternity of love in Heaven.

CHAPTER XIII.

Unforseen Events.

After all the exercises had been performed, Mrs. Allen and the children bade farewell to the Sisters, and Reverend Mother gave them a pressing invitation to visit the Convent often.

When our friends reached Midville Station, Papa Allen was waiting for them with the carriage, which soon brought them to "Home, Sweet Home," as Bo sung out, when he saw Aunt Lucy, Uncle Dick and Hetty standing at the gate.

Bo hugged every one, including Don, when that, too demonstrative beast gave him a chance to notice any one but his own dogship.

Uncle Dick declared he never again would complain of noise for "the house has been like a desert without our harum-scarum."

Amy and her brother kept together as much as possible during the remainder of the summer. The pony chaise was in demand every afternoon, and the children always invited a few of their friends to enjoy a drive with them.

One day Mrs. Allen filled a basket with roses, which she gave to Amy, saying: "I wonder if you and Bolax wouldn't like to take these up to Grandma Barton." Allie Thornton, who was present, asked: "Is she your real Grandma?" "Oh, no," answered Amy; "she is a poor old lady, nearly blind, to whom Mamma sends things; we love to go to see her." "Let me carry the basket to the chaise; it feels quite heavy," remarked Estelle.

"Very likely Mamma has placed a pot of jelly under the flowers," said Amy. "My mother says that when we bestow a gift we make it doubly acceptable by giving it in a graceful manner. This old lady has no relatives to look after her, she has a son, but she does not know where he is. Mamma says it is pitiful to hear the poor soul talk of that son, how she prays for him and hopes he will come back to her before she becomes entirely helpless." "I just hope God will punish that son!" exclaimed Bo. "Father Anthony says anyone who is cruel to his parents will have no luck in this world and be everlastingly punished in the next." "Dear brother, don't hope evil for any one, rather let us pray that the heartless son may be inspired to think of his dear old mother and return to her." Just here a bend of the road brought them upon a little cottage of the romantic order, overgrown with woodbine, in which Grandma had a room. The dear old lady greeted the children heartily, thanking them for the flowers. "Take seats, my dears; oh, not there child, that is Velvet Ear's chair," and Bolax sprang aside just in time to save himself from sitting upon a tiny skye-terrier.

"Are you well this morning?" asked Amy. "Oh, very well, dear," answered Grandma.

After a few more pleasant remarks the children bid good-bye, then getting into the cart drove leisurely along the road.

Suddenly there was a thunder-clap, and a dark cloud appeared where the sun had shone a moment before.

"Drive as fast as you can, Brother; I fear we will be drenched!" while she was speaking, the rain poured down. Bo knowing how easily his sister took cold, divested himself of his jacket and put it around her. "Ben Bolt" seemed to take in the situation and got up a speed he had never before shown. When they reached home all were soaked. Estelle laughed about her plight, but Bo hurried his sister into the house, where his mother and aunt soon had her in a warm bath, then to bed with a cup of hot lemonade, hoping thus to ward off the consequences of such a severe drenching.

In a few days Amy began to cough. Dr. Carroll looked serious when asked if the cough would last long.

In ten days the child grew rapidly worse, and Mrs. Allen sent for her husband, who was on one of his Western trips. He came home to find his little daughter so ill, that her life was almost despaired of. Bravely the doctors fought against the dread disease which they feared would end fatally, although they managed to ward off the danger for a time.

The Sisters came up from the Convent to see the dear child and try to console her father and mother.

We will have all our children and sisters pray if it be God's will to spare your beloved one.

Amy's Death.

It is a sweet October morning, a tender mist, gray in the distance, rose-colored and golden where the rays of light strike it more directly, envelopes the landscape; the trees are decked in holiday attire—green, russet, orange and scarlet.

On a couch placed near the window reclines the meek patient sufferer. Aunt Lucy stands near, Hetty kneels beside her "baby" with a cup of beef tea trying to coax her to swallow a few spoonfuls.

"Hetty, dear, don't force me, I am not hungry." "My blessed angel do take just a few drops for your old Hetty."

Amy heeded not, her thoughts were far away. "Auntie," she remarked, "isn't that woods like a piece of Heaven? See how the trees glisten as the sun shines on their waving branches. How glorious Heaven must be when earth is so filled with beauty."

Aunt Lucy looked into the ethereal face, and unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks.

Hetty stooped over the wan little hand, and kissing it, hastened from the room, her heart bursting with grief. In the kitchen she met old Pat, his head bowed and his whole bearing showing the depth of his grief for what all now saw was inevitable.

"Hetty," said he in a hoarse whisper, "is she going?" "Oh, Pat, I feel dis is de last day we will have our angel child. Dey done telephoned for Dr. Carroll, he will be here directly."

At two o'clock the doctor told the assembled household, that but a few hours of life remained for the dear one.

At three o'clock death with "solemn steps and slow," is steadily approaching. Now her voice, which before has been scarcely above a whisper, becomes strong again, as is frequently the case in the dying, and she tries to sing in the old sweet way: "Jesus, Jesus, Dearest Lord."

It seems as though the angels were present, Heaven so fills the room.

After a moment's rest she turned her eyes on the weeping company, and said: "Don't weep for me, rather rejoice that I will soon be with Our Dear Lord and His Blessed Mother. Mamma, dear, say that beautiful prayer that ends with—'Merciful Jesus have mercy on me.'"

"Mamma, dear, you will come to me in Heaven. There will be no parting, we will walk together through the golden streets, and through the beautiful gardens forever. Come, kiss me now, darling mother!"

Then she addressed Mr. Allen, who stood with great tear-drops rolling down his face, his heart broken with sorrow.

"Dear Papa, how I love you! You have been such a loving father to me and Brother, so good to dear Mamma—Forgive my having tried your patience so often."

"Heart's dearest," answered her father, "you have never caused me a moment of trouble in all your life."

"Darling Papa you will come to me when Our Lord calls you. I know you love Him. Father Leonard will show you the true way to reach Heaven; O promise me you will follow it."

"My angel child," responded the father, "I solemnly promise." His sobs choked his utterance, but kneeling and taking his child's hand he kissed it fervently.

Exhausted by her efforts, she lay silent awhile, then turning to Bolax, she said: "Dear little Brother, never forget the promises you made to Our Lord the day of your First Holy Communion. Oh, serve Him faithfully that you may meet me in Paradise.

"Dearest Aunt Lucy, I thank you for all your years of kindness and love; oh, I know you will be there to rejoice with me.

"And Hetty dear! let me kiss the hand that nursed and tended me so faithfully."

Hetty's grief was becoming uncontrollable, so she hastened from the room lest she should unnerve the rest of the family.

Poor old Pat was not forgotten, when called to bid farewell, he managed to control himself while he knelt asking the dear child's blessing.

Here Reverend Father Leonard entered the room. Mrs. Allen lit the candles on the little altar at the foot of the bed; all withdrew for a few moments leaving Amy alone with the Priest.

When the Father was ready to administer the Holy Viaticum, every one returned to the room, each bearing a lighted candle, knelt in prayer. After receiving Our Dear Lord, the child's face became radiant; a heavenly smile lit up her countenance, she murmured: "Jesus, precious Jesus; how I love Thee! and yet—how unworthy I am!" Here she held out her hands as if beckoning to some one. "O my beloved! take me to Thyself! Jes—" The lips ceased their utterance with the sweet name half spoken. One long-drawn sigh and another angel was added to the innumerable company of the Blessed. The days that followed Amy's death were to the household painful in the extreme.

Mr. Allen was overwhelmed with grief. It was useless to try to speak to him; for two days he shut himself in his room and the Doctor could scarcely persuade him to take nourishment.

Mrs. Allen was resigned to God's will, although her heart was crushed with sorrow.

Kind neighbors came offering condolence, indeed the family had the sympathy of the whole village.

Reverend Mother Gertrude sent a letter by two of her Sisters reminding Mrs. Allen of Amy's desire to be buried under the Bed of Lilies.

"We are sure now," said the Sisters, "the dear child had a presentment of her approaching departure from this world, so Reverend Mother begs you will have the funeral from our Chapel and let the dear one rest under the Lilies of the Valley."

Reverend Father Leonard was consulted as to the advisability of accepting Mother Gertrude's gracious offer; Mrs. Allen feared her pastor might wish the funeral to take place in the parish church. "On the contrary," said the good priest, "I think no resting place could be more fitting for such a child than a grave where the rays of the Sanctuary Lamp shine out upon it through the Church windows. I shall go to St. Imelda's and ask to be allowed to celebrate the Mass, which must be what we call the 'Mass of the Angels.'"

The funeral was announced for Thursday morning, carriages were to leave the house at half-past eight, so as to reach the Convent in time for the services at half-past nine. The Chapel was draped in white, all the flowers and ornaments on the altar and the vestments were white.

Professor Renaldi's pupils, who were in the same class as Amy, presented a beautiful harp of white rosebuds, with the word "Love" formed of Forget-Me-Nots woven across the strings.

The Chapel could scarcely contain the number of people who came to pay a last tribute of love to the dear child.

The gates of the Sanctuary were left open and the casket placed in front of the altar as near the rail as possible.

During the Mass the music was almost joyous. Reverend Mother ordered this expressly so that the bereaved parents might be soothed in their grief.

Six little girls dressed in white walked beside the casket as it was borne to the grave, and now our dear, our beloved one sleeps under the Lilies, emblematic of her own pure soul.

Funeral Sermon.

Dear Friends, I need not tell you who is she over whom we weep today. You well remember little Amy, who only a few months ago knelt at this altar to receive Our Lord for the first time.

Like St. Imelda her heart and soul were absorbed in love for Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. On the night of the day Amy made her First Communion, her mother heard her crying and sobbing in her bed. When asked what could cause such grief, she answered: "O, Mother, this was the happiest day of my life, and I grieve because it is ended."

This child was especially loved by God. Graceful in form, lovely in feature, and in innocence of heart an angel, she seemed like some bright heavenly spirit lent for a time to the world to light up God's love in it.

There was about Amy a spiritual refinement—a looking forward to the things that are to come, a sweetly sad yearning towards Jesus, the object of her young heart's pure love.

Our Lord was jealous of the possession of so pure a soul, and before its loveliness might be tarnished by any fault incident to human frailty, he called her from earth to place her near His Sacred Heart for eternity.

Amy's whole life seemed to tend to one point, namely to love God above all things and in all things; she knew that without God's love man is not fulfilling his destiny, he is astray on a pathless waste—a ship on a storm-tossed sea, without helm and without hope.

Will you ask me how the dear one died? Think how she lived. A happy holy death closed a happy innocent life.

It was my sad duty to attend her during her last illness. I have seen many persons die, but among them all, Amy shone out pre-eminently for her resignation to God's will.

She was often heard praying in subdued tones, when intense pain assailed her: "O Holy Mother of Jesus, help me to bear my sufferings with patience, in union with those your Divine Son endured for me when dying on the cross."

Raising his hands and eyes to Heaven, the Priest prayed:

"Dear Angel child! we look up to you on this bright day, crowned in Heaven with a fadeless crown, pray for those you have left behind to mourn. If earth has lost an angel, Heaven has gained one. If we have been deprived of a dear affectionate daughter and sister, we have gained a blessed intercessor before God's Holy Throne in the glory of Paradise."

After the funeral Mr. Allen started for a business trip to St. Louis. The Doctor said it was best he should go rather than remain where everything reminded him of the beloved one and gave him a heart-pang.

Winter passed quietly, when Christmas came it was celebrated as a peaceful holy day; every one tried to be cheerful, but there was a minor in the carol—a spray of Cypress twining 'mid the holly wreaths.

On the first day of March a quiet wedding took place in the family, when dear Aunt Lucy became the wife of our beloved Doctor Carroll, to the great delight of Bolax and all the family, especially Hetty, "who always knowed dat weddin' done had to be."

Mrs. Allen begged that the "Honey-moon" trip should not be prolonged, as she could not spare her sister, so in three weeks' time the bride and groom returned to reside permanently in the old homestead.

One day in April, Bolax surprised every one by returning from school early in the morning, having been ordered home on account of scarlet fever, which had suddenly broken out at St. Thomas'.

Later in the day the President telephoned to Mrs. Allen telling her that there were fifteen cases in the house, the disease having been brought in by a day pupil. "It will necessitate our closing the classes for the season, and will entail a serious loss to the College."

So Bolax had to study as best he could at home with the assistance of Mamma and Uncle Carroll.

CHAPTER XIV.

Bolax Goes to College.

For several winters Mr. Allen had suffered from severe grippe colds, each year his system seemed less able to resist the attacks, so Dr. Carroll prescribed a winter in Florida, saying that it was an absolute necessity both for his health and as a complete rest from business, to which he had been a slave.

Mrs. Allen and the whole family held a consultation as to what should be done with Bolax while they were in Florida.

"I want to board at St. Thomas', Papa; the boys have such fun, I know I'd have a good time there; I was the youngest day scholar last year and all the seniors liked me."

"My dear child," said his father, "if fun be all your aim in boarding at a college, you can have all you want of that at home at less cost. I fear there is too much of your 'fun' going on in our colleges and very little solid education."

"That's just what I've been thinking," observed Mrs. Allen, "and I've made up my mind to send Bolax to my uncle, who is President of the College at L'Islet, Canada; that is, my dear, if you don't object."

"I do most emphatically object to having my son go so far from home."

"But," argued Mrs. Allen, "the boy will be better cared for under the patronage of a relative than he would be in the most expensive of our Colleges here. My uncle has frequently written to me, telling of the excellent methods and strict discipline of his school, which he has placed under the care of Christian Brothers."

As they were speaking, Dr. Carroll and Lucy came into the room.

"What would you advise about our boy, Doctor?" asked Mr. Allen.

"On what subject?" said the Doctor.

"We are thinking of placing Bolax at college, and his mother wants to send him to her uncle in Canada."

"Canada is very far away," objected Aunt Lucy, "why not let him remain with us, as we are to live in your house during your absence."

"Now, Lucy, you ought to think it high time that a boy nearly thirteen years of age should be above coddling," remarked the Doctor, "that is what you and Hetty have done all his life and it is time to stop it. The boy is not working up to his ability here. Composition and music are the only branches in which he receives a high average, these require little or no exertion on his part, but in all other studies his average is low. I really feel a change would benefit him, we might make the trial, should it prove unsatisfactory, it will be easy to take him home again."

After debating for and against the Canadian project, Mr. Allen was at last persuaded to give his consent, and preparations were made for Bo's trip to Canada. Boy-like he was elated at the idea of traveling, especially when he heard he was to undertake the journey alone. When he told his companions about it, they opened their eyes in amazement, and some of their mothers wondered how such a harum-scarum could be trusted so far on the trains.