SURPLICE AND SWORD.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXVIII, Issue 41, 11 October 1900, Page 23

SURPLICE AND SWORD.

There was little in the appearance of the Pennsylvania mining village to indicate that the great Civil War was raging. A visitor in the town of Mount Vernon would not notice the scarcity of m^n in the streets, and, except for the anxious scanning of the daily papers, or the occasional sight of a wounded soldier home on furlough, one might torget that a state of war existed. Work at ilu; mines was plenty, wages were high, and the village seemed to be experiencing a humdrum round of prosperity. Father ' Dan' O'Bourke was glad that the town had grown prosperous, for it enabled him to pay the indebtedness of his little parish. It was hard work to raise funds for the church and the modest residence he had bought, when the miners were not working well. But bis energy and his sunny disposition had accomplished much among the miners towards improving their temporal, as well as their spiritual, condition. Himself a son of toil, he inherited the strong frame and robust constitution of his ancestors, and, when he was not occupied with his pastoral duties, it was no uncommon sight to see him spading up the soil in his little garden or plying the hammer and saw in making some needed repairs about his premises. Though the Bmallnefs of his income sometimes made such exercise necessary, it was valuable to him in another way, for when the rough l hewers of stone' «aw the tall, handsome young priest engaged in these menial taskß they talked about it at the mines, and declared that 'he hadn't an inch of pride' and was 'just like one of ourselves.' Even Sandy M'Dadd the ' boss driver ' at the mines who was called behind his back ' the blackest Scotch Presbyterian in the country,' paid of Father Dan —' He's a gude mon ; a canny mon ; though I dinna care for Popish priests.' The great war had raged for two years, and conscription was reaching ont its inexorable hand summoning the men to the strife. Now Father Dan found a new field of duty —comforting bereaved families, breaking the news of disasters that had come to them on the far off southern battlefields, and giving spiritual strength to the weak ones ere they departed for the theatre of the mighty conflict. In the midst of hia apparently interminable labors he received a sudden and painful surprise —thp more forcible because he had never dreamed of such a contingency. This was a notification that he had been drafted for servico aa a private in the Union army, ordering him to report at Wilkea Barre the following week for medical examination. The next Sunday, after he had celebrated Mass, he read the legal notice to his congregation, and when the murmur of surprise had been subdued, he continued • —• 'My dear friends, it was supposed by many people, as well as by myself, that the sacred calling of the clergyman would relieve him of the obligation to take arms against his fellow-man. But since the Government, which it is our duty to obey, has decreed otherwise, I must prepare to sever the ties that have grown so dear to me and enter upon this new duty. Y\ hatever we may think of this decree, let us not place our personal feelings above our patriotism. Our country has much to contend with in these troublesome times, and even if an occasional error is made, all will be remedied in the proper time and under the proper authority. During my absence you will have no resident pastor, as the bishop has no priest available to send in my place ' Now, I must say good-bye to you, and in saying this let me ask you to remember your religion and your duties towards your neighbor. No matter where I may be you may know that my prayers will always be with you. I am weak in the sight of God, my friends, and I beseech you not to forget me and to pray that, if it is his will, I may be permitted to return to you. So now. once more, good-bye, and may God bless you and protect you. 1 As they listened to the words of the priest, the men of the congregation were filled with mingled indignation and grief. The women were openly sobbing and when, with a smile cf resignation, he made the sign of the cross over their heads, perhaps for the last time, there was a hoarse murmur of impotent protest. As the priest turned to go, several men rushed up to the altar railing and commenced to talk excitedly in low tones. 1 You mustn't go, Father, 1 said one. ' The drafting office has no right to compel you to go It's a scheme to get money, that's all : We all know that these officers may be bought off. We can raise the money, say the word and we'll have it in an hour.' ' Your impulsiveness has carriud you away, James,' paid the priest. • What you suggest would be simply bribery, and 1 cannot countenance that either directly or indirectly.' The rejection of this plan, which seemed so feasible to the most. left them silent and unreeoureeful. brooding in helpless rage. Ai last one burly, red-haired miner, who was noted for his exp'lot-ue language, blurted out: 'By crackey, the soldier that takes you with him will have to crawl over me first.' That was what they all wanted to nay, and now they had found a spokesman their eyes glistened and their fists clenched as if in anticipation of the contest. 'Don't go, Father, don't go,' wailed the women, and the church was filled with the sound of their weeping. ' There must be no violence, my friends," said Father Dan, deeply affected by the Bcene. ' I am perfectly willing to go. Please do not cause me needless pain by attempting to resist the law.' ' Let me go in your place,' said the red-haired miner. 1 You have a wife and children dependent upon you, Tim,' the priest answered,' and anyhow I am determined not to evade the command.'

' Never mind me, Tim,' said the miner's wife. ' I'll let you go.' 4 No, no,' said Father Dan, ' there must be no more of such talk. It touches me deeply to see such devotion, but my duty is plain to roe. I hope to see you all again before I leave next Wednesday, and now good-bye again.' Gathering the folds of his cassock about him, he strode away to the vestry holding hia head high, with a strange twitching of his firm-net lips. And when he thought the altar boys were not looking he wiped his eyes and gave a suspicious oongh that the sexton thought ionnded like a sob. But when the priest turned around again he was smiling, and the sexton felt that he must hare been mistaken. rather Dan' o house ?ra3 thronged with excited visitors during the next few days. All kinds of possible and impossible plans were BugKebUid U him, and fully a dozen men offered to act aa a substitute for him. ' Sure we'll be drafted soon, ourselves, anyhow,' they would urge with unselfish plausibility, but Father Dan thanked them and continued his preparations for departure. Father O'Rourke was the first clergyman who had been drafted, and not alone the Catholic priests, but clergymen of all denominations were deeply interested in the case. The Bißhop made a strong protest to the local authorities, then finding that they could not, or would not interfere in the matter, he appealed to the Secretary of War for a ruling. Everywhere in church circles the sentiment waa strongly expressed that it was wrong to deprive the people of their spiritual advisers in times so fraught with trials of spirit that required the consolations of religion. But the machinery of government, even in peaceful times, is slow, and when Wednesday came t ather Dan said his final farewells and departed for Wilkesbarre. Six of his parishioners who had also been drafted accompanied him and the party in charge of a recruitant iergeant. Upon their arrival the men were taken to the recruiting station and placed in a smt.ll room, not over-clean and poorly ventilated. About two dozen men were there, of different typ3s, some of them fairly respectable in appearance— others looking like the dregs of humanity. The air was noisome and oppressive, with a blended stench of cheap rum, stale tobacco, and human uncleanliness, and Beveral of the poor wretches were suffering from the effects of debauches which they had indulged in, with the hope of disqualifying themselves in the physical test. The men scrutinised the priest closely when he entered, and «ome of them recognising hw cJencal dress, lifted their hats to him. A pale, nervous-looking man, half delirious with drink, was indulging in horrible profanity, that the guards could not induce him to suppress. One of them nudged him and whispered, • See the priest,' and the fellow, af U>r a glance at Father Dan, stopped suddenly in the middle of a fresh outburst, confusedly touched his hat, and slunk back into the crowd. Presently the surgeon entered, a fat, blear-eyed man, with red hair, coarse features and the manners of a prize-fighter. He walked over to the table in the centre of the room and ran his fingers over a list which the sergeant had given him. Father Dan's examination proved satisfactory, and he was given an order for a uniform. Here a difficulty aroee. He was a man of unusual stature, and though he was given the largest suit obtainable it was much too small for him. The ludicrous appearance he made, with his trousers much too short, aad his sleeves several inches from his writ, made him the butt of many secret sneers and gibes. But he had friends in the company— true, warmhearted friends— and woe to the person who would insult Father 'Dan' in their hearing. Pat Morm, one of Father Dan's former parishioners, wu one of these, and when the regiment was ordered to Harrisburg he insisted on giving his long overcoat to the priest. ' Take it,' he said, ' and put it around ye'r waist, under y'er own overcoat, so that the spalpeena won't be laughin' st ye'r short trousers when we march down to the railroad station.' ' But you will need it yourself,' said the priest ; ' the weather is chilly these evenings.' • Me need it,' rejoined Tat, with a hearty tone of contempt at the insinuation. 'Me that's wurked up to me knees in water with the drip from the roof uv the mines turnin' to ice on me whiskers, an' sorra the overcoat did I have.' There were weeks of tiresome drilling at Harrisburg, and Father Dan found a great deal of work to be done among the soldier*. Before long he was the best known man in the regiment, and his good influence upon the men was noticed and spoken of by his colonel. • I fear that we shall not have you with us long,' said this officer one day. ' Your Bishop and all of the clergymen of your neighborhood have sent a strong protest to President Lincoln, and it is very probable that you will receive your discharge before long.' A few days after this conversation took place he received the appointment of company clerk, but he had scarcely entered upon the duties of his new position when the regiment received the orders they had awaited so anxiously during weeks of dreary hunpense. The division to which Father Dan's regiment was attached was ordered to reinforce General Rosecran's army in Tennessee. The journey to the front was uneventful, and when they reached Knoxville and trooped out of the train to Btretch their cramped limbs and get a breath of fresh air after their journey, they learned of the surrender by the Confederate* of Cumberland Gap, which had occurred only the day before. Knoxville was in a Btir of unusual military activity. Mounted orderlies galloped here and there with wild haste, baggage and supply waggons lumbered through the streets and impeded traffic, and the jangling spurs of the cavalrymen striking against the pavements added their tone to the din that formed a part of the symphony of war. It was evident that some important movement was about to take place. In the afternoon a large clond of dust appeared to the west of the city, moving southward, and upon inquiring the cause the recruits learned that the army had begun

the advance on Chattanooga, the gateway to the beautiful plains of Alabama and Georgia. In the evening a soout brought the news that the Confederates, under General Bragg, had evacuated the town and fallen back to Lafayette, on the south road from Chattanooga, fronting the east slope of Lookout Mountain. This movement the Federal forces construed as a retreat, but the real object of the manoeuvre was to form a junction with the reinforcements that were expected daily. Longstreet'a corps was on its way from Virginia, and with these combined forces the Confederates expected to fall upon the Union army when it emerged from the mountain gorget*. Acting under the delusion that Bragg's army was in actual retreat. General Rosecranw ordered a portion of Parke a corps of Burnside's army to move down from Knoxville. while several regiments of infantry were sent to reinforce General Thomas's corps, which was then moving towards M'Lemorea Cove. To this latter division Father Dan's regiment was assigned, and a hot and tiresome march under a blazing sun, with dust ankle deep, was their first taste of real campaigning. But while the Confederates were preparing to attack in force and outflank General Thomas's army, that general discovered his mistake, and retreated to the mountain pass, thus rescuing the Federal centre from its perilous and much-exposed position, Meanwhile the Confederates changed their plans, and on the 15th September their combined armies forded the Chickamauga and moved towards Lee and Gordon's mills, where the supposed the Federal troops would be found. Crossing the river north of the mills they hoped to cut off the Federal retreat, but while they prepared for this movement their right wing, under General Walker, was attacked by General Thomas's corps, with a scathing artillery fire. The Confederates held their ground with great gallantry, and for a while the battle raged with uncertain success on either side. Father Dan's regiment was held in reserve on a knoll behind the artillery, at the right of the battle lines. Shortly afttr tho action commenced a messenger handed Father Dan a long yellow envelope. The priest read the message it contained and then placed it in his blouse. A cloud of smoke obscured the battlefield, and after a little while the men on the knoll could see nothing of the scene of strife. The suspense was terrible, and as the hoinble din of the battle increased they grew nervous with expectation. Still the expected order to advance did not come, and the colonel realised that a horrible blunder or accident had taken place. There had come a sudden rift in the cloud of smoke and to their horror they saw advancing towards them four regiments of Confederate infantry. Apparently their retreat was cut otr' for Cheatham's brigade was engaging the main body of their troops to their left. Someone had blundered, and they had to pay the penalty. ' Courage, men !' shouted the colonel. 'Courage' I have~sent for reinforcements.' Closer and closer came the iraas of grey in ominous silence. Unmindful of the volleys that the little band poured into them they steadily advanced until they were but a few dozen rods distant. Then they paused for an intitant, and the men on the knoll could hear distinctly the command, ' Fire ! ' With the word the air seemed to be filled with molten flame, while the slaughter was dreadful. The brave colonel urging the men to close up their ranks and stand firmly together was thot through the head and fell lifeless. A second volley came and nearly all of the officers who exposed themselves were picked off. It was not in human nature to stand such carnage, and when the long crescent of men in grey began to advance at a double iquick, with fixed bayonets, the pitiable remains of the regiment, bereft of officers and wholly in confusion, broke and fled to the rear. During the action, Father Dan never lost his presence of mind. He had often wondered how he would feel under fire, but after the firing commenced he eeeined to have entirely forgotten his own peril. When the captain of his company waa shot down and the lieutenant wounded, it was Father Dan who stepped to the front and commanded the company. V\ hen the regiment faltered and began to retire in confusion, he managed to keep the men of his company together and to conduct their retreat in good order. 'Come on, men 1' he shouted, 'Follow me I There s a stone wall up here on our left, and we can hold it until we are relieved. Don't go to the rear ; the enemy may be there.' Already the first of the fleeing fugitives had learned that their retreat was stopped by a portion of Cheatham's brigade, and they stood, a surging mob, without leaders, fearfully conscious of their terrible predicament. They had already determined to make the l&it stand where they wer»\ when Father Dan appeared. ' Come on, men !" he thundered above the din of the musketry. ITo the stone wall ; there's a chance there ! Form your companies and close up ranks ! Double quick march '' Those who heard his voice obeyed and formed in rank. The others followed through the contagious instinct or impulse that teems to possess disorganised bodies of men. Tht re was v faint cheer that grew in volume as the column approached their refuge, and when the Confederates reached the top of the knoll, with a disdainful disregard of danger from what they considered a vanished foe, they were thrown into confusion by a sharp volley from the stone wall that inflicted severe damage. The Confederates returned the fire, but found that they could not hurt the men behind the stone bulwark. Again they charged, but the men under Father Dan fought like demons, and the Confederates were beaten back at each cew attempt. At last they massed for the final effort and with the impact of a cannon ball, they hurled themselves over the wall at the courageous men in blue. Hand to hand they fought, and then seeing that resistance was useless, the defenders began their second retreat. Again they stopped, for the sound of a bugle told them that there were troops in their rear. A few minutes later their fear was turned to joy, for the troops in their rear were not their enemy,

but the column that had been Bent to their relief, and had been intercepted by Cheatham's men. After a sharp struggle they had pierced Cheatham'a centre, and now they proceeded to occupy the position that the little force had defended "so gallantly. But where was Father Dan ? One of the men had seen him fall in the last charge at the stone wall, where he remained after the rest of the regiment had been pressed back, dealing deadening blows with his clubbed musket. There was little time to think of him and the enemy now occupied the ground where he had fallen. Presently the attack was renewed, and the battle raged until nightfall. The next day the bioouy action of (Jhickamauga was continued. That night the broken Union army retreated to Chattanooga, and in die report that was sent to the northern papers the name of Daniel O'Rourke was included among the missing. Father Dan was the hero of the hour. The men grieved at his loss more than they did for any of the other good and true men that had fallen. Accustomed though they were to the trials of war, some of them could not keep back the tears when they learned that he had fallen. Fat Moran repeated again and again the story of the envelope which the priest received at the moment of the battle. ' When he got it,' Baid Pat, 'he read it and turned to me. "Pat," sez he, "do you know what I have here ?" ' 1 No, yer reverence,' says I, ' for I always gave him his title you know.' ' Well,' says he, with a strange bit of a smile, ' it's a discharge from the army signed by the President.' ' Ye'U be glad to get back,' says I. ' I will,' says he putting the paper in his pocket. ' But Pat,' says he, ' I've been with the boys so far, an' I'm not goin' to turn back now. I could surrender myself as a non-combatant, but I would rather be Bhot a thousand times than lave ye all in this tight place. But if it's God's will that I live through this battle, I'll go back with no shame on myself or the regiment.' ' He saved our lives,' said Sergeant Price, lighting his pipe from the glowing embers of the camp fire. 'He did all of that an' more,' said Pat, solemnly. 'He saved our honor, too.' • » * One day when the southern prisons belched forth a party of white faces, wasted men. the name of Daniel O'Rourke appeared in the list of those who were to be exchanged. It was a great day in Mount Vernon when Father Dan returned, for they had long mourned him as dead. The town was gaily decorated, and the band played ' See the conquering hero comes,' and there were speeches by the town authorities, in which Father Dan was referred to as ' our distinguished and gallant townsman.' In simple vrords he told them how he was wounded and captured ami of his year in the prison. Then he produced hia bloodstained discharge, and a great ringing cheer went vp — a cheer of thanksgiving and praise that he never forgot. ' And,' to use the words of the orator of the day, in his concluding speech, ' having covered himself with glory on the bloody tield of Chickamauga, he modestly laid aside the sword and donned the surplice — he withdrew from the battlefield of physical strife, and renewed, as a parish priest, his warfare against sin.' — Exchange.