The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 16 January 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

ONE OF GOD’S HEROES Senator/ I said to him one day, ‘ how in the world did you become a Catholic?’ He was seated in an archair on a verandah partly covered with honeysuckle vines, and from which, though concealed ourselves, we could look out on the surrounding country. I had finished my sermons for the day, . and was resting. His fine face became animated; his keen eyes were as limpid as an innocent child’s as he looked up with a smile and said: 'You might call it, Father, a curious work of God. Many years ago, while I was beginning my professional career, I became acquainted with Governor Burton. We were both from the same State, and there was, of course, a common mutual attraction in that fact, as we were far away from our old home. But I admired Burton professionally, for besides being an acute and powerful lawyer, he was an exceedingly persuasive speaker, and notoriously partial to clients whose cases were all on the side of right and justice. He was always delighted to take up a case that was as true if to justice as the Gospel itself. Besides this, he was a statesman. He was among those leaders who piloted the Southern and Western settlements through thestormy waters of early Statehood. "The obstetrics of Statehood in these regions during those early stages were under his supervision, for he was the last appointed Territorial and the first elected State Governor of the American Eldorado, physician and wet-nurse of a bantling whose baby-beckonings drew from the East the greediest and cruellest population ever organised into a civilised community. But, Father, I reckon you know the Governor’s pretty well by this time,’ continued the ena t° r (and I did !) So you will not be surprised when I tell you that I experienced a little shock in one of my conversations with him, for I found he was a Homan Catholic— convert to that religion. He was a gentle but forceful propagandist, and what I afterwards learned, he was an interior man in the mystical sense of the term.’

What about yourself, Rhinehart?’ I said, laughing.

-• Me ? Why, I was a decent-living young- fellow, absorbed in getting big fees, then easily and peacefully to be had by capable lawyers. I was too much absorbed in such things >to be caught in the whirl of vice that was tearing through our wild humanity. It was repulsive to me, anyhow. But furthermore, I was too much absorbed to be drawn into any religious belief. ‘However, I was a clean-living man, though I never worshipped God explicitly at all. Implicitly, the memories of my sainted mother, a fervent Methodist, kept before me, at least now and then, sweet songs of the love of Jesus, crossed curiously, but not stridently, by the strains of the emotional grotesqueness of the wild country camp-meetings. But to continue my story. Soon Burton began to take occasion to ■ interrupt our law conferences with thoughts of God. Eternity seemed round every corner of our conversation. But he was by no means offensive. He was none the less aggressive, but he had a manner gentle yet imperative. “Rhinehart,” he would say, “do you ever consider the end of our existence ? Do you live as if preparing your case for the Divine Court? Rhinehart, you are making money hand over fist. What good will it do you a hundred years from now?” These things, and many things about Christ, he would say to me in the intervals of business. And I was so deeply impressed I had no answer. He seemed to have the voice of God in commonplace words. Then came the . crisis of my life, an expression grown vulgar from over-use, but poetically great in this instance. In my case it was the dawn of heaven’s light. ‘ I met Burton’s family socially, and I fell in love with his daughter. Let that go, Father, but the woman who enthralled me then, and whose love to this day embalms me in holiest peace and joy, is just the feminity of her father’s noble traits of manhood. She was a Catholic. She had been a Methodist when her father joined the Catholic Church, but she trod the path of the lawyer’s daughter into the true fold. Well, as soon as he saw the state of affairs between us two young peoplefor our affection was mutual from the first—-he listened to each of us as we -opened bur hearts to him, and said very little. He was sad and happy by turns. But I learned afterwards he used to spend hours in the old church near his office down-town, praying for light and guidance in our affairs. Then he attacked me dialectically. I could not answer his arguments, and I could not fallow his invitation to enter the Church. You may not know he: was the author of a singular and powerful book of controversy. He was a sledgehammer. But I resisted him. I was, clad in armor of triple proof, a secular man, with only one religious disposition single heartedness of my thanksgiving to Providence for my wife. For we got married. Mixed in religion, united in everything else. Soon I began to suffer pain that she could be wafted up to heaven in prayer and sacrifice, while I must trudge about below, a man of clay wedded to an angel. I, absorbed in hopeless entanglements of doctrinal indifference and spiritual sloth she, refined infinitely with heaven’s own influences. But I could not join her. God was reserving a miracle for me. ‘ Three years after our marriage and soon v after the birth of our second child, Burton and I were obliged to go to New York and Washington in a case of mingled business and law, involving a whole fortune. This was before the first Pacific railroad was built, and we took steamer agoing south to the Isthmus, and then we crossed over and embarked at Colon on a fine new steamer with a large company of passengers, including more than the usual proportion of women and children Taking what was then known as the Florida passage out of the Gulf of Mexico, our steamer was driven by what seemed a fatal current. out of her course while steering through a somewhat intricate channel. Just before dawn one morning we ran on some’-coral rocks, were again lifted up by a huge and .tremendous wave’ another one succeeding; and at last we were left unon the reef, fast and firm! It was a terrible situation. We were doomed, every one of us. For how could anyone be rescued out of so disastrous a situation. ‘ As the light grew stronger, so did the winds and waves, and as we looked out on the, awful scene, the

interminable stretch of reefs to leeward appalled us. The men, with white faces, tried to calm the terrified women and children. The captain moved sternly among the crew, all saying as little as possible. What could .be said? Wo were lost! '*•4- ‘When hope had died down to its lowest ebb, a $ joyful cry sang out from the deck: “Sail, ho!’ And there in the distance was a vessel, a steamer ! She

saw us and our signals of distress, and was making toward us. But alas! it was only a sea-going tug. How few she could save! Our elation of hope was quickly succeeded by the deepest gloom as she approached. The nearest accessible land was a day’s journey off, counting both ways to and from the wreck, for a wreck seemed certain we should become.

‘ With much difficulty our crew launched a boat and reached the tug safely. They soon returned with the report that they would crowd onto the tug all they could carry. But her capacity was 260 persons. Now wo had 230 women and children alone.

‘ A partial lull in the weather enabled all of these, amid a tempest of tears and an agony of leave-taking, to be transferred to the tug. Over one hundred men,including the officers and the crew of our ship, still remained, and there was room on the tug for barely twenty more persons.

‘ The captain and officers instantly informed us that they would not and could not think of having any right of preference, nor would they hold a place in the drawing of lots that must decide who should be saved. Meanwhile, a heavy swell began to heave up the ship and threaten to lift her and crash her down to total destruction.’

Here Rhinehart paused, as if the memory of that awful scene was almost too much even to describe. I was intensely interested, and after a moment or two begged him to continue his narrative. I felt that the moment of grace to which he referred so often was at hand. Soon he resumed his story. ‘ Governor Burton, Father, was, as you may guess, the leading man on board among the passengers. The captain called a meeting of the men in the cabin, placed Burton in the chair, and then begged to be excusedbrave man as he was —from the drawing of the lots.

‘ As for Burton — I ever forget the splendid calmness of that man’s face and form ! I was calm externally, but broken-hearted as I thought of my wife • and babies. In ten minutes Burton had the men organised. All of us unanimously swore the oath he administered to each that he would abide by the result of the drawing without hesitation or question. The whole meeting unanimously chose Burton to draw the lots. Pen and papers were there, and quick as you could think of it all of us wrote our names on slips (there were one hundred present), and placed them in Burton’s hat.

‘ He rose up and solemnly uttered once more the oath of honest and truthful drawing, and then bared his arm to the elbow. Oh ! what a scene it was! The darkened cabin, the wild roar of the seething waves without, the constant shivering of the tortured ship as the waters played with her and the reefs gored her sides the-tense white faces of these hundred men whose lives hung on the drawing of those twenty pieces of paper ! Oh ! my God ! could there bo greater agony ! Twenty saved! The rest doomed to certain death! ‘ Burton appointed three tellers from among the older men, then put his hand into the receptacle and drew out a name. The three men, amid the thrilling silence, read the name aloud. Then Burton said the name in a distinct voice. One saved ! What an ordeal ?

And this 7 as to be done twenty times ! I know not jjiAf I had ever really prayed in my whole life before, fjfcough I had gone through the etymology of that jpyine language by certain phrases in my early days. But now I prayed with my whole soul, for my wife’s sake, for my two little babies, that I might be saved. My heart went out to my God in humble, sincere, pitiful prayer. Midway in the drawing, about the tenth, the name of Burton was drawn and proclaimed. We were all sad enough, but ninety-nine voices at least gave

forth their applause. \He alone was grave and calm and still.

* But, Father, my soul leaped with joy. If he were savedmy wife’s beloved fatherhe at least could care for her and carry my last message to her. I looked at him with all my eyes. He did not so much as pause a moment in his rapid, fateful work, the stern arbitrament of chance, or, as we all know, the holy assize of God.

‘The drawing was done and over. My name was not drawn. I was lost! I was to perish, and my wife and darlings were never to see me again. I did not collapse. I was no coward of that kind. But my soul was in agony. My horizon shrunk up like the walls of an ingathering tomb to bury me among the reefs on the Florida Keys, and I bade farewell to everything. * I was not moping, but plunged into despair, when a gentle arm was laid across my shoulders, turning me about. ‘ It was my father-in-law. ‘“Oh, Governor!” I cried, “thank God you are saved !” ■: , ■

‘“Yes,” he answered, “I. am saved, Rhinehart, but not in the way you mean!”

‘ I looked up into his radiant face. He continued: ‘ “When I heard that terrible thump of our poor ship on the rocks, I said to myself, ‘Thank God, Burton, that you made your humble confession and received Holy Communion the morning you sailed!’ PJiinehart, ever since I joined God’s Church, God’s Spirit: has dwelt in my innermost soul, and I feel His inspiration in all I do. His Presence in Holy Communion has been the support and joy of my life. I have come to you to say good-bye; I hear them getting ready the last boat on the deck above us. I am old, you are young and you have a wife and little children.’'’ I fell into his arms, I sobbed on his shoulder, and he all but carried me up the gangway.

‘ The crew called off the ones who were saved, and as my father-in-law grasped my. hand he left in it the card that was to save me. I refused the card ; he forced it into my fingers; he caught me by the waist and literally lifted me, speechless, into the boat where the twenty passengers .were embarking for the tug. 1 clung to him but he whispered: ‘ “Rhinehart, my religion assures me that,- I am in the state of grace. As to whether you are or not, I am not certain. I trust I may meet my God in peace and save my soul. lam not sure about you. Think of this when you reach laud. You must take my place in the boat!”

‘I opened my'lips once more to protest, but his big, powerful grasp was upon me, and I was -helpless. The card was in my hand, and as the boat pushed off I saw his majestic form landing on the doomed vessel, his head bared to the sky and his eyes looking into that heaven where he so confidently expected to go ere the sun went down. • •; .

‘ I sank shivering down in the boat and buried my face in my hands. And as the vigorous rowers ploughed their way through the boiling waves, and the breakers rushed over our quivering bodies, I swore an oath to God that when I got to where I could patiently pray and study about religion I would investigate and explore the path that had led this lawyer and statesman and noble friend and father to such heroism and Christian unselfishness. I kept my word, Father, and this is the story of my conversion to Catholicity.’ But the Governor !’ I cried, ‘what happened to him V ■ ; ...

‘ God was not to be outdone in generosity. I think that act of Burton saved' us all. When wo got to the little tug we found that her captain had proposed a plan to make one despairing effort to float the stranded ship. The rising of the waves which we had just then noticed came from a change in the direction of the wind, and it tended to ■ loosen our ship’s hold on the reef. There was certainly hope, and the captain and the crew and all of us lent our strength to the effort. ‘ ‘Oh, how we watched the hitching of those great hawsers and heard the ‘blowing of the signals, and how we drooped at the first failures! But what with pulling, first on© side . and then another, and what

seemed to my new eyes of faith the unseen help of God's angels deep down among those cruel rocks, at last a little movement was noticed in our great vessel. It was hailed by the frantic cheers of the men and the tearful, trembling thanksgiving of the women. And then our good ship, catching a big surging wave from the deeper water westward of us, made a plunge downward and then forward with a roar, and was drawn away from her peril, safe and unleaking! God be praised! She came alongside. We all re-embarked, made the rest of the journey, and here I am, Father, a fervent Catholic, Christian man ! Now, can you call my conversion less than miraculous!' I had listened with deep, with breathless interest to his story. Evening had come on, and the peace of twilight was all around us. In the silence I lifted up a voiceless thanksgiving to God, Whose love is of such a nature as to force the winds and the waves to obey Him, lest He lose- one soul of those He had come to save!—Rev. Richard W. Alexander in the Missionary.