Untitled

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXV, Issue 15, 13 August 1897, Page 21

BROTHER TO A SAINT.

(By Hele>t m- Sweeney, in (\itl>olir

» ,«■ World) ANDY McGonigal was drunk ayain. That sounds as though it were a rare occurrence, but it wasn't Everyone in the Saratoga—for they are as particular as to names on Eleventh Avenue as on Fifth—knew that Andy was '• at it again, and everyone, from the little toddlers that hun» around the stoop to " Blind Joe," who lived on the top floor back, was sorry for his sister Mary. It was only last week that she had boasted that she had him decent ; but, alas ! for woman's faith and man's unappeasable thirst, he was '• at it again." It was not for want of care or want of prayer that Andy was the wreck he was. From the first streak of day until midnight Mary sewed incessantly on pants —tor the bulk of the sweater's work is done in these tenements— that Andy might have a roof over his head, a hot dinner nearly every day, and a good, well-mended coat on his back in which to »o to Mass ; but he never used it for that purpose. * A pretzel, a pickle and a cup of '• calico-tea " was Mary's meagre meal every morning after five o clock Mass. The pretzel " kept°so well, the pickle " was so fillin'," and the tea was the one little luxury that the poor soul allowed herself. Her hard life of unremittent toil and continual disappointment of reforming the brother she loved so tenderly left its mark on her shrunken frame, her hard knotted hands and large-jointed fingers. Those poor ringers were kept so busy ! By constant application for sis days in the week she could earn at '• finishing " thirty-mne cents a pJiir, and could do three pairs a day, thus bringing up her income to the munificent Bum of seven dollars a week. As for Andy, he was always looking for a job, but seldom got any farther in his search than the " Owl's Retreat next door, out of which he would be systematically ejected at the timid questioning of his sister, '• Is Andy within ? " There was no mistaking Mary's nationality. Slight as her accent was, it proclaimed her birth amidst Gotham's teemm- population. Her heart was warmed by the intent glow of perfect faith and loyalty to the church of her lathers. There »as nothing, however, of the wholesome Milesian comeliness about Mary except a perfect personal cleanliness. Her small face was drawn and too old tor her thirty-seven years ; her thin hair was smoothly parted, drawn tightly back from a too-hiyh forehead and twisted into a walnut at the nape of her neck.

But for all that her face was strangely attractive ; it was so peaceful so resolute, so quietly strong. Her eyes were Tennyson's • homes ot silent prayer. ' They were her one redeeming feature and were large and softly dark, confiding as a do^'s, and, like a dog s full of dumb wistlulness.

As she stood now, looking down at the poor, weak creature spraw ed on the little, old, rickety lounge, where iriendlv though foircely steady hands ] la d laid bun a tew moments before her p^ent eyes were filled .wth tear. Jiut she did not waste tune sentimentalising but set ,to york at once, loosening his clothes covering him with the blanket from her own bud, setthn- his lu-.id comfortably on the straw pillow ;md puttmg to draw a~t once the little brown pot ot strong black tea, to steady him - a-in Ids wakm . She considered it '• trym' ior the nerves "to mdul.ro in the stimulating oolong her~di. but lor hnu no tiouble or expense

Week alter week he promised to do better, and week after week he failed, Mie had {-one to see i'atber Ambrose and had enlisted his nympathy lor poor, fr.ul Andy, all unconscious that it was her own courage and devotion to the scamp tli.it had attracted the pood pnet s interest m the case. A, each vv ed< vv ent by mid it uas the bauie Kid old story, even the pucst gave lam up as a hopeless case; but hi.Bi.ter m-ver became ,iiM. oU ia»,.«l, save momentarily A\ith a heroic &teadlastm>s she wenkt-d stiUluuder. hoped moie and prayed incessantly. a ,Ti!°' ie iud , e c fatl -, ab] ° workers in the cause of temperance say that there aie fifty thousand -drunks - ari^ted e\ ery year Has anyone taken a census of hearts .' | ) ue . anyone know how many lives have be.n da.kenc-d by the black s UI .' Has anyone the statistics of the little children null their lear-sUmped laces ' How many saints have earned than- canonisation m this krtile Held of sorrow and sullenng .' Only God knows. Lives like Mary's arc the whit.' pond-lilies that flourish above the noisome surface. Her whole long, hard day she made a ceaseless prayer Uor loveiorW seapoj nice brother endured through year., oi toil and disappointment. Her ozie ambition was to see him a member of the Holy Isame Nocety a-xl have him receive Holy Communion w lt h them on the liz>t .Sunday of the month. But m answer to her pleading ho -aye her nothing- but abuse, and sometimes even blows ; lor Andy •• in In, cup, " »a, a ferocious brute, a.. Mary s limp nndd c finder testified, lie had atruek the cup out of her hand one night when .he vv as iv-m X him to take "just one more swallow of the tea. ' J

v bu . re ', lm{rll i d iPyriyhthand," was all she said to Father Ambrose n\ hen he, roused to indication at the thousandth repetition of Andy s wickedness, utg( . d hul . to Jnake lamt an(] have Andy committed to the Island, l'.ut no. while there was a roof over her head Andy would share it , vvhilt could earn a crust of bread, Andy had the lai^er part ot it. Father Ambrose and bis active sympathy, her daily Ma«s and weekly Communion-tor she| received every .Saturday morningwere the bright s,pots m her otherwise dark lite She had all the passionate devotion and loyally to her pa.tor that characterises her warm-blooded race. But sometimes for vveeks he did not s CC her ; for a parish of twelve thousand bouls needs a rector a constant supervision fK ♦ml 6m 16 yIU tb ,° mK ! dk ' vi the wlnU ' r wonl V^ brought to him that Mary was sick and had sent for him. He hurried down there

expecting to find her laid up again from the effects of one of Andy's sprees ;m tie tound her very ill indeed with pneumonia , *..11. 1 J (J lilu'£1 ilu '£ of fever on her w °™, sunken cheek made her almost beautitul. Her eyes shone like stars as she grasped her friend's hand in her burning ones As usual, his very presence soothed and calmed her He bejrjred to know if there was anything he could get for her anything at all he could do to lessen her trouble. ' "0 father ! I'd have never a bit to trouble me if Andy would only keep straight. But then," she went on, her laboured breath coming in great gasps, " God must send me some trouble. It would be worse if I had nothing at all to suffer for His sake." Then after a little pause, " It s Andy's soul I'm thinking of continually " Ihink of yourself now, Mary, for once. Andy will have to work out his own salvation " J ttve TO

Ah father dear ! if I may make so bold, Andy has no one but me. And in your sermon last Sunday night you said that prayer was a bridge from earth to heaven. Sure, I'd make my body a bridge for him, if he could but walk on it into that Land o' Promise What a my pains, and my work, and my days and nights of trouble! it they won t buy heaven for my brother ?" And Father Ambrose, used as he was 'to the heroism of poverty familiar with the pathetic courage of the poor, felt his eyes fill with tears in the presence of 6 uch a noble example of vicarious suffering th t S T Uld h % d ° v Ut Pray With and for her » thi « lovely "oS that walked on a plane but little lower than the anWls rose'to go, O^ ol U fc P he m Z" MaSS f ° r yy ° U to ' mo "™. **$>" ** «& as he his sou°i whtVmTone.'' 01 " him - N ° wUI think ° f W*' '« " Where is he now ?"

" I don't know Father. But every night the lamp is put in the " But you may not be here to-morrow Mary "' For an instant s-he was silent ; a shadow crossed her face and «he twined and untwisted the worn fringe on the clean but shabby counterpane ; then a light shone in her lovely eyes, Ld she said looking up m hi, face : ' Thi "-i.fl""*' ' h ii" k 'Si"' ,1 s """lyfornio yet. for Andy needs me 'X &I?n*ta& I ?n*ta 5£^ c ha ' Bent mo wa ' iust "" " rest ' "»'■ -o-J terrible scourge, the frail little bodies offering the W SstanS are able to withstand the ravages of the disease betterXn aro tust frame that would be felled in a week. Mary lived to wik to pray, to love and hope for her brother again. Andy frightened by the nearness of death, was quiet tor a month. During those four w> eks Mary went about with such a deep, intense look of happiness on her poor, pmched face that it seemed to glow as with an ifward light. To crown her happiness, Andy, at the solicitation of Fatter Ambrose. ] oined the Holy Name Society. The first Sunday of March was t'je red-letter day of Mary's life. All during the MaX her -tears t. I silently and as she vuv those nine hundred men approach the rail she could * lt h difficulty restrain her sobs. That te • Sother v,.iß among them she did not ascribe to her own prayew but to r-ather Ambroses. When she saw the King of K m 4 entc • hn? brother s heart she felt like Suneon ot old. a°n«l co ul ll ke i dm ex cla n '• .Now. Lord, let thy servant dcpait in peace ' _ lor days afterwards she stitched a^ay with her accustomp.l indu.try, l.ghtened and sweetened by liei holy, happy thoSt She sano about her work, laismg her thin, old, cracked v me e in quavering melody. « Erin, the tear and the Mnilc in thine eve 'sh p,ped.Jj!l m her own lovely eyes her tea. s made t, in raiXws rf For a week he had boon hoiking in the big dressed beef We dou n at the corner, an.l Mary uas looking forward t« a cilrn -Xl Cn UUh ° liC WmV hor hh ° PcS Vurc d - hcd tothc' Poor tl ing ' she took ns an earnest for the future the few halcyon days ot March, and vv lien .she heard of Andy V latent esearS she li-lt «or^o than it it hid come in the reyultr fine of 1 is former de m.uencu s. lt . t ,, ni . j hat h h . l(1 a J^^Zl men. Andy . temper. n.»t a «ood one at the best of times could not in his pr^ent nervous .state, brook the bullying of the petty tvrinr who made the n,en's lives a burden : and Jt tlPe fi lh t oppo he let his irritability get tlio better of his little stock of pnidence -and with hot vvords let the foreman have the full benefit of nil pent' m, ee hnj.,. H iat » lght he was laid off, and to drown his diionVfort had resort to the -Owls Retreat ' again. Here he aid h grievances and u as loudly applauded for his "gnt." Encouraged by the praise ot the bar-room heroes, he announced his in Jn Son to lay for his enemy at the first opportunity lO a.-reonbl^Tr yy ° Ur '^ A " dy \ T d hi^ ho^ « ho was smilingly aniecabU- as lon- as the com in Andy's pocket held out V lhis is as t-ood as a nun," said Andy, layin"- bare his lanm sinewy forearm, that looked formidable enough xmtii it was rememl beredthat champion* do not '• train on mixed ale/ whatever ttev may do after they have proved their staying powers in the rm / Andys flabby muscles offered no menace to the* foreman -and Jet when the latter entered the place, and after a few hot'wordVon either side, Andy let fly from his shoulder a well-directed blow between the eyes, the foreman dropped like a log. uuectea Dlow In a moment the excited crowd announced ° lie's dead ! "' It was fully a minute before Andy could take in the fact inrl when it did enter his dulled brain he dashed out of U,e place, turnip towards t event h A* emu-, and j us t caught hol.l of the roar p'latfW rail of a freight tram ]mlhn» out, and was carried off fasrer ->nr) faster towards the West and liberty. and How Mary -ot throuj-h that night she never knew. All mVht long she spent on her knees, imploring the Sacred Heart to forgive Andy, only to forgive him aud then it did not matter what the law

did to him. Not for an instant did she contrast her present state of horror and fear with the calmness and peace of yesterday. She simply thanked God that he had been brought to a state of grace once at least, and she trusted blindly to the saving grace of that Communion to reach his sin-stained heart even yet. She offered no resistance to the officers of the law as they entered her two little rooms in search of her brother, and to their repeated questionings as to his whereabouts, had but one answer, " Only God knows."

Two days afterwards she would have given her very life to know herself ; for by a strange circumstance of fate the post mortem examination brought out the fact, too strange not to be true, that the foreman had not met his death at Andy's hands at all. He was found really to have perished of heart disease, or. as the medical expert termed it, " he died of syncope antecedent by a few seconds to the so-called murder." W r itness-es bore evidence to the fact that the deceased had been out of health some time. His heart was found to be entirely empty, thus exonerating from the very serious'l charge the fleeing fugitive.

From the moment of this announcement Mary spent her time looking for her brother. Day after day she haunted his usual resorts, but found no trace of him ; night after night she spent praying for his return. To help her, though he had but little hope of its success, Father Ambrose had inserted in one of the big dailies a carefully-worded advertisement ; and even went farther, and interested a young newspaper man in the story and had him making a stirring article out of it ; but still Andy did not return. The constant disappointment, hard work, and sleepless nights began to tell on Mary's enfeebled frame. When she found that she could not finish her three pairs of '• pants " a day, and realised that her health, already undermined by the attack of pneumonia she had had, was ruined by her latest trouble, she bowed her head to the inevitable, and with her accustomed fortitude made hers the will of God.

As long as she could crawl about at all she managed to trim and light the big lamp and put it in the window for the absent eyes to see ; and when she was forced to surrender and accept aid from the St. Vincent de Paul Society, oil was all she asked for. Father Ambrose himself saw to that, and, like the faithful virgins', Mary's lamp was always ready. One sultry evening in May, when the hundreds of lighted windows of the tenements on the avenue began to glow like dull red eyes in the dusk, Father Ambrose went down to her, and with him was another guest, the shadow of whose dark wing lay over the low, mean bed on which a saint was lying. From behind every door on his upward way through the house came the sounds of talk and laughter, the clatter of dishes at the evening meal, and the incessant click of the sewing-machine ; for the very poor have not time even to eat. But in Mary's room there brooded a peaceful quiet, filled as it was with the " peace that passeth understanding " and for the first time the lamp was unlit.

She smiled up in the priest's face. '• I knew you would come. Light Andy's lamp, father, and pray fur the soul ot him." Late that night Andy came. Far down the deserted avenue he hal caught the friendly glow of the light that was leading him to more than a home. He was perfectly sober, for travelling in a freight-car, hidden safely in the heap ot ill-smelling hides from the far West, was not conducive to comiviahty. Now, heavy-eyed and chilhd, he crept up the narrow, greasy btair, pushed open the frail little door and walked in.

But there were people there ' Three or four women sat around and dozed in their ehaira.

There was something in the middle of the floor, something long and black.

One step more, and he looked down on a still, white, peaceful face. Never would those eyes look love into his eyes again , never again would the thin, worn ringers let the brown beads .slip through them for him ; never again would the stilled heart throb in fear as hia unsteady step stumbled up the stair. With a dreadful cry he flung his arms across the coffin, and implored the dead lips to speak to him, the dead ears to listen to his promises ; for, shocked into perfect possession of his senses, Andy made vows over Mary's cothn that she would willingly have died to hear. Like many another, Andy gave to the dead what the living craved for ; but who shall say that Mary did not hear his words of penitence, his promises of amendment .' Hers was a glorious death, for by it she purchased eternal life for a most repentant brother. ***** To-day in an obscure corner of Calvary is a long, low, grasscovered grave with a simple cross at its head, which reads — MARY McGOXIGAL, AM) ANDY, HUt BKOTHEK. Below there is no provisional " May they rest in peace," but, with firmer faith, Father Ambrose has written THEY SLEEP IN CHRIST.