The Catholic bulletin. [volume], May 04, 1912, Image 6

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6
JOHN WOOD-DOVE.
An Indian Solider of the Cross.
Father Hughes, the Californian In
dian missionary, who is known among
the Indians as Pasukat Tebeschnech
ish—White Horse—tells a striking
story of a young Indian's faith.
Father Hughes was engaged in
building a stone chapel at Soboba,
California. The Indians were giving
the labor, proud of working with
White Horse, "their priest," who led
them in the most arduous tasks. A
young man, of fine physique, rode
into the village and up to the church.
He approached the priest, doffed his
hat and said, "Father, I would like to
go to work." "What is your name?"
asked the priest.
"Juan Majel," (John Wood-Dove),
the Indian answered.
"Juan Majel, from Pauma, are you
not?"
"Yes, Father."
"I am sorry, Juan, but I cannot hire
you. I have no money."
"Money?" replied the Indian in a
somewhat offended tone, "I do not
want money for building the kish
amna (House of the Spirit)."
This Indian, twenty-five years of
age, had come sixty miles on horse
back for the privilege of working at
the building of the house of God.
At the noon hour while the work
men, Indians and priest, were rest
ing, Father Hughes noticed Juan alone
under the shade of the pepper-tree,
sitting Indian fashion with his hands
locked across his knees and his gaze
fixed meditatively in the direction of
his home.
The priest approached him and said,
"Juan, you are thinking home."
The Indian looked up in surprise and
answered, "Yes, Father. Do you also
read thoughts?"
"Are you getting lonesome? Or
have you some sorrow?" asked the
priest.
"No, Father. But I was thinking
that if my people in the village of
Pauma only had as good a church as
the one which was torn down here in
order to build the new one, how happy
my people would be."
The chapel had been torn down
for fear that it might fall in the first
storm.
This thoughtful Indian solved an
other problem for Father Hughes in
the village of Soboba. He married a
poor but estimable young widow, the
mother of two children, and made a
happy home for them and himself. It
is.of his wife, Placida, and her chil
dren that Juan writes in the letter
which follows. The letter is given
with its odd mistakes in composition
because these tend to bring out more
clearly the correctness of its senti
ments and the strength of its faith.
Dear Father,
This is my first letter to you. It
may be a poor letter to understand,
having many mistakes on. For this
I ask you excuse. But I cannot hold
myself study hearing you. I put my
a few words on paper, wishing a lit
tle better church building at my na
tive home, Pauma. Small village, but
proudly I must say that my natives
are true Catholics. I prove this by
our church building at Pauma. It
was built before I was born. I was
born August 30 in the year 1884.
Anyhow my people seem to be proud
of their poor church. This church
building is of adobe sides, (i. e., of
sun-dried mud.) The roofing is plain
to see (which means that the sky can
be seen through many holes in the
roof). Inside portraits of our noble
saints are a few, small and old. No
grand alarm bell to our honorable
church, but small hand-bell only to
be heard hundred yards. My natives
visit their church often every sun
days another holidays even without
any priest. To hear Mass was seldom.
For Father Ubach's situation used to
be over 60 miles away and Francis
can Fathers from San Luis Rey mis
sion were rare. They came when in
formed to a feunaral or to some
memorial day. Untill a priest was
settled at Pala mission which is six
or seven miles away from Pauma,
Mass got to be heard oftenly once or
every two months for some good rea
son. Now for regular time Mass is
once a month. Dear Father, lately I
heard you sending your remembrance
to us all here at Soboba. Also I
heard something you said concerning
my native people and church. (Father
Hughes praised their faith.)
For this I may ask your careful
attention to my wish. Oh, how I wish
that God would keep me on my hearty
wish. I would be a proud God's
soldier of the whole world.
Father, I and my wife Placida Ma
jel and two children are well. After
we have received sacrament of mat
rimony our hope and wish to our
further leading life is good Christians
and happy. Thanking you for this
my wife and myself join sending you
regards.
I remain as ever your truly,
Wish you success
Juan Majel.
The Marquette League engaged
Father Hughes to tell the story of
the "Romance and Reality of the In
dian Missions of California" at the
annual meeting of The League held
in Cathedral College Hall, 462 Madi
son Avenue, New York City, on Thurs
day evening, May 2nd, at eight o'clock.
Father Hughes used both motion and
stereopticon pictures of California In
dian life. The Marquette League, of
which Hon. Eugene A. Philbin is presi­
MISSION FiELDSA
'=K\
dent, is the New York branch of The
Bureau of Catholic Indian Missions
its office is in the United Charities
Building, 4th Avenue and 22nd St.,
New York City. The Bureau, which
has its central office in Washington,
D. C., at 1326 New York Avenue, with
Rev. William H. Ketcham as Director,
has engaged Father Hughes for the
past year in telling the story of his
beloved Indians to the Catholics of
the United States. Here, priests and
people are responding to the appeal
for the Indian children throughout
the United States. However, not
more than one-half the children, or
6,000 in all, are at present in the
sisters' schools. Only the response of
Catholics in every part of the country
can save these children to the faith
and make them as zealous as John
Wood-dove.
A GLORIOUS MISSION.
The great work that the Catholic
Board of Missions for the Colored Peo
ple is accomplishing under the Rev.
John E. Burke, Director General of
the Negro Missions, cannot be over
estimated, particularly with regard to
the schools. There are, at present,
twenty-six Sisters on the pay roll.
Within three years three thousand
children have been added to the
schools. These schools would be at
a stand still if money were not forth
coming to pay the teachers. When
the welcome check comes from Fa
ther Burke there is great joy. In many
cases it is as if the heavens had open
ed and Manna had been showered, so
great is the relief and gratitude shown
by the teachers. This feeling is
shared by every teacher in the South.
A letter that came from the South is
a vivid illustration of the gratitude of
the missionaries. The letter reads:
St. Joseph's Seminary, Baltimore, Md.
Dear Father Burke:
The arrival of "Our Colored Mis
sions" magazine reminds me of the
things I heard about the assistance
from Father Burke during my visit
of the missions. Some priests were
so glad that Father Burke helped them
to pay the teachers. Others did not
know what they would do without
Father Burke's assistance, etc. To
meet the current expenses of the
teacher is a great worry to the mis
sionary and his gratitude is easily
guessed when this expense is do
nated. In the name of the Josephite
Fathers I thank you very much for
the assistance you give them. May
God bless all those who help you to
carry on the good work.
Signed.
Very Rev. Justin McCarthy,
Superior General of. the Josephite
Order.
(Continued from page 3)
YESTERDAYS ROSE BUD.
only one who understands. I don't
think there's anyone in the little con
servatory in fact, I went there to see.
You don't mind missing a waltz?"
"Not in the least," she answered
with a smile. "Didn't the Dalzell girl
dance well?"
"Don't talk about her," he broke
out. "I want to talk about myself."
"You always find yourself the most
interesting topic of conversation," she
retorted. "What have you been do
ing now?"
"Nothing," he answered sullenly,
"and the governor has turned nasty—
says I must do something or emigrate
or buy a broom and sweep a crossing.
I can't tell you all the nasty things
he has said to me. That's the worst
of being a poor man's son."
"But why shouldn't you do some
thing, Jack?" asked Lady Flora. "Sure
ly there are some things which you
could do here."
"You don't want me to go away, do
you?" he said, suddenly looking into
her face. "We've been such good
friends I don't know what I should
do without you. When I saw you
amongst all those beastly people it
was like a sunny day on the race
course."
Her heart beat more quickly. It
was a doubtful compliment, but there
was more sincerity and feeling in his
voice than she had known before. Be
sides, he was a handsome boy and well
groomed, and—well, she was a wom
an.
"I was glad to see you, too," she
said softly.
"Were you really?" he exclaimed,
looking at her as she lay back be
hind the shelter of the palms. "That
was good of you. I always thought
you regarded me as a boy."
"But you are a man now," she re
turned, "and so you must think of do
ing something."
"If I do something, will you too
promise to do something for me?" he
asked eagerly.
"Yes, if it is reasonable and possi
ble. What do you want me to do?"
"To marry me, that's what I want,"
he exclaimed.
"Hush," she said. "Some one may
hear you." He caught her in his arms
and kissed her, and she made no re
sistance.
"Your love Is all I want to make me
a success," he whispered. "Only give
me that and I will do anything that
you wish."
"Does it mean so much to you as
that?" she asked, pushing him from
her.
THE CATHOLIC BULLETIN, MAY 4,1912.
"Yes. Everything."
"If it does I will marry you but
you must first find some position—"
"Yes, I will do that, darling," he ex
claimed, and would have kissed her
again, but she rose from her seat.
"I have several engagements to fill,"
she said with a smile, "and so we
must return." She hesitated a mo
ment and then added: "But remem
ber, my promise is only conditional,
and you must not regard me as being
engaged."
They went back to the ballroom to
gether. A curious little smile passed
over Major Courtenay's face as he
saw them.
"Surely she won't be such a fool as
to marry that boy," he muttered to
himself. Then he sighed, for the boy,
after all, had what he himself never
could win back despite his many dis
tinctions—the priceless possession of
youth. What were military distinc
tions to a young and beautiful woman,
when handicapped by fifty years? He
watched them jealously. The boy was
radiant and eager the woman's man
ner was gentle and a little embar
rassed.
"I'll talk with the governor tomor
row about a job, and then I'll come
and tell you," Jack whispered, press
ing Lady Flora's fingers.
Lady Flora did not mention to her
father the arrangement she had made
with Jack Cavendish. She knew in
her heart that the Earl would not ap
prove of such a marriage for his
youngest daughter. But after all he
himself was responsible, since he had
reminded her of the big gap which
lay between her and her girlhood. If
she waited longer she must inevitab
ly fall back upon some such husband
as Major Courtenay, whose best years
had been given to his profession and
to whom a wife would be but the con
solation of his old age. If she had
been as wise a£ eighteen as she now
was at twenty-seven things would be
different.
One afternoon, a few days after
Lady Windle's ball, Jack Cavendish
presented himself at Lord Mountbay's
town house.
He was obviously excited wjien he
took Lady Flora's hand, and would
have kissed her if she had not drawn
back.
"I say," he said, with an aggrieved
air, "I thought we were—"
"But we are not," she interrupted
quietly. "Have you any news?"
"Yes. I've talked the whole thing
over with the governor. Never men
tioned you, of course," he explained.
"He was quite pleased about my anx
iety to find a job. So we put our
heads together."
"With what result?" asked Lady
Flora, for it was Jack's way to think
he had done a thing when he talked
of doing it, and she was under no illu
sions respecting him.
"There's an awfully good job vacant
now," he answered, "the Secretaryship
©f the new Fishery Board, worth thir
teen hundred a year, and very little
to do except in the way of administra
tive work. Just the think to suit me.
The clerks and fellows like that will
do all the real work."
"I see," responded Lady Flora. "But
how are you to get it?"
"Well, that's the question," said
Jack, his ardour a little damped. "You
see, it's in the gift of the Duke of Bil
borough, the President of the Council,
you know. Now, how can we wirepull
him? Do you know anyone to work
the Duke?"
Lady Flora's face flushed, remember
ing how her father, a few days before,
had told her of Ronald Gower's ap
pointment as Clerk of the Council. He
was the only one whom she knew who
was likely to influence the Duke, but
how could she ask a favor of the lover
whom she had rejected for the lover
whom she was prepared to accept? It
was a painful dilemma.
"Do what you can yourself," she an
swered, "and meanwhile I will think
what I can do."
At first she made up her mind that
the thing was impossible, but when
Jack returned with a gloomy face, to
tell her that all his efforts to influence
the Duke had been failures, she wav
ered, and finally conquered her pride
so far as to write to Ronald Gower
asking, as an old friend, his influence
on Jack's behalf.
By return came a reply in the curi
ously familiar handwriting.
"Dear Lady Flora," it ran, "I am
glad you remembered me and our old
friendship. I will do what I can to
interest the Duke on your friend's
behalf, and perhaps if I am successful
you will allow me to make the an
nouncement in person.
"Always your friend^
"Ronald Gower."
After she had read the letter, Lady
Flora wept so much that she was un
able to appear at breakfast. She sent
word by her maid that she was suf
fering from headache, and Lord Mount
bay was obliged to read his papers
undisturbed.
She sent a graceful little note of
thanks to Ronald Gower, and then,
with a sad kind of feeling as to the
the topsy-turvydom of human things,
she sat down to await events.
Events did not seem to move rap
idly for days passed and she heard no
news of Jack or of his projects. She
grieved at first at Jack's neglect,
then indignant. For his sake she had
humbled herself to ask a favor from
Ronald Gower, and he had not shown
himself decently grateful. If he came
now, she said to herself, she would not
receive him. But he did not come, but
in his place came a. hastily scrawled
letter, to the effect that there was no
use trying to get anything in England,
and so he was going out to South
Africa as an inspector of mines to Mr.
Dalzell. He was grateful for all that
she had done for him, but he hadn't
the courage to come and tell her so,
and he was leaving next day.
Lady Flora read the letter through
with a very white face. Then she
walked to the fireplace, put it in the
fire, and watched it slowly burn ami
become ashes.
"That is the end of my last folly
she murmured, "and there shall nev
be another. God help me, to think 01
marrying such a thing as that."
When she kissed her father's fore
head in the morning she showed no
sign of heart trouble, unless it was
that her manner was more affection
ate than usual.
"By the way, Flora," remarked the
Earl, "I see that young protege oi
yours has been doing rather well for
himself. Listen to this: 'A marriage
has been arranged and will shortly
take place between Mr. John Caven
dish, only son of Lieutenant-Colonel
Cavendish, and Lillian, eldest daugh
ter of Mr. Thomas Dalzell, the well
known millionaire of South Africa
The bridegroom will shortly take up
an important post on the Rand min^
of his prospective father-in-law.' What
a strange girl you are not to have told
me anything about it."
"I did not think it would interest
you, father," Lady Flora answered in
a low voice.
"Well, it does. Everything doe
more or less. And that reminds n,
that I have to lunch with General Bux-1
ton today at the United Services, an i
so I shan't be able to go with you
Lady Burcliffe's At Home. You wl
make my apologies."
"Yes, father."
But as the afternoon worked
Flora felt that she could not, at the
moment, endure the mild frivolity of a
fashionable At Home. For one thing,
she had to write to Ronald Gower
begging him not to take any further
trouble in the matter of Mr. Caven
dish, since he had already accepted
another appointment. The sooner
that was done the better, and then
she would start afresh. She sent
away the carriage, which had waited
for her, and went to the library to
write her letter.
She sat down at'her desk and took
a sheet of paper, but for a long time
she did not know how to phrase it.
What was she to say and how to
apologize for trouble given unneces
sarily?
A footman opened the door.
"Mr. Gower, your ladyship," he said,
is in the drawing-room."
The color suddenly left her face,
and she trembled.
"Show Mr. Gower in here," she said.
"Yes, your ladyship."
In a moment her composure came
back to her. She stood up, leaning on
the desk, then she went forward to
welcome her guest.
"It is so.good of you to come after
all these years,"-«he said, giving him
her hand and looking into his face.
He had not changed much, although
the hair about his temples was be
coming grey but his face and eyes
were steadfast as of old.
I was rejoiced to think that I
could be of service to you," he an
swered in a voice which betrayed some
emotion, "and if I had failed I should
not have dared to come. As it is, I
have been more successful than I an
ticipated. The Duke has almost prom
ised me to give the appointment to
your friend Mr. Cavendish, and I real
ly think I may say, that the thing is
practically- assured."
"I am sorry, Mr. Gower, for having
given you so much trouble in the mat
ter but the fact is that Mr. Cavendish
has shaken the dust off his feet in this
country and has accepted a post in
South Africa. I was just about to
write to you to that effect."
"Oh, indeed," replied Mr. Gower.
Then my news comes too late."
"I'm afraid it does," answered Lady
Flora, "but I am not the less grateful
for your kindness. And after all, Mr.
Cavendish will probably find his fa
ther-in-law a more considerate employ
er than any other."
"His father-in-law!"
"Yes, Mr. Dalzell of South Africa.
Mr. Cavendish is to be married tofyiis
eldest daughter."
The news seemed to affect Ronald
Gower deeply. He rose to his feet and
paced several times up and down the
library, whilst she watched him with
a beating heart. What a fool she had
been! In every line and feature of
his face were power and distinction,
and she had been satisfied to give
herself to a mere brainless boy.
"Shall I ring for tea?" she asked at
length.
"Yes, thank you—or not yet, if you
please," he answered. "I have brought
you something which perhaps I ought
to have returned long ago."
He took a case from his pocket and
opened it. Inside was a withered
rosebud.
"This and my dreams I have kept,"
he went on, "but when I got your let
ter I thought it was time to surrender
both. You see, I was never good at
forgetting and so I always remember
ed the garden of roses at Mountbay
and all the dreams that—that—that—"
"Don't, don't," she cried, stretching
out her hands appealingly. "I can't
bear to think of those days."
"This is the rose that you gave me,"
he said. "Will you take it back or—"
"What if I do not?" she whispered.
"It is a pledge of our friendship,"
he went on, "but I always kept it in
hope that some day, when you had
seen the world and laughed at life
and love till you were weary, you
would remember me and perhaps come
to love me."
"You—you—love 'me still?" she
broke out.
"Yes, now as always," he answered,
"else I had not kept this rose to tor
ture me with its perfume."
"Oh, I am unworthy," she cried, cov
ering her face with her hands.
He drew her hands away and kissed
her.
"Let us go back to the garden and
gather the roses together," he said.
fiiiiiiw
Principal of Training School,
H-nlLLAIfS
F1A60N
USINiPS&IM
"S
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Applicants £or training please correspond previous to these dates with
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