THE FIRST INSTALMENT

New Zealand Tablet, 11 May 1916, Page 7

THE FIRST INSTALMENT

High Mass was finished at Larmon, and the organist played a solemn march as the good country-folk and fishermen moved slowly out of the little church. The strong sunlight dazzled their eyes; the salt tang of the sea was in the air. Not far away the great blue waves danced and splashed merrily in the wind and sunlight. Some of the people paused to look out on the restless, heaving sea others left somewhat hurriedly. There was great confusion. Little boys and girls were darting here and there among the backing, stamping horses, and everywhere there were sounds of pleasant laughter and of turning waggons.

Martin Elkin saw that his wife and daughter were comfortably seated in the waggon ; then, as, they drove off, he went to the door of the sacristy and stood waiting. Father Kerr had sent for him.

The old man felt somewhat nervous on being thus summoned ; so many distressing things had befallen him during the past few years that he now regarded all such calls as foreboding trouble. He hoped his son Charlie was well at the seminary. Perhaps—but he shook his head by way of dispelling his fears and closed his*jaws firmly. A quick stop sounded; then the priest came out through the door. He was a young man with a bright, friendly face, a kind smile shadowing his eyes. He shook the hand of the older man warmly, then opened his Breviary and took out a folded paper, smiling away the old man’s fears as he slipped the book under his arm in order to read the telegram more easily. Never had su6h good news come to the old father. The telegram was from the Bishop and it read thus: Prepare for ordination of Charles Elkin within the month.’ The old man bowed his head, but said nothing. The priest gave him the telegram and then passed on to the presbytery. Old Martin gazed after him, the yellow paper fluttering in his trembling hand. Then he went back

into the church and knelt down before the tabernacle, in tearful gratitude. The past few years, with their burden of trials and failures, had stooped his shoulders, but they had brought his heart very near to God. He left the church and walked, hat in hand, towards home. His head felt a little dazed, for it was a long time since he had received good news. The great February thaw of four years before had spoiled, tons and tons of fish which he had bought to ship, depending on the usual cold weather to keep them yn good condition. This was the beginning of . a series of disappointments and failures. Before this he had lived in comfort; but ever since it had

been very hard to keep the lad in the seminary. However, he had managed to pay for his education, though, as a result, many frugal meals were eaten in the little house by the sea. And often in the long winter evenings, when father and mother and daughter sat before the fire in the little sitting-room, the lamp turned low to save the oil, they talked of still greater sacrifices they might make in order that Charlie might have the books he needed to complete his course. And, away in the Convent of the Ursulines, Mary, known as Sister St. Francis, passed many a silent vigil under the sanctuary lamp, praying to God to help her parents, so that her brother might finish his course. In vacation time, when the lad was home, many little strategies were used to hide their poverty from him, in order that he might not learn how great sacrifices they were obliged to make for him. They succeeded fairly well; though he guessed things were not so prosperous as they seemed. And often when he was back again at the * seminary, and when the wind blew .about the great solid walls of stone, he would think of the three in the little white house which trembled under the force of the roaring winds from the stormy sea; and he would console himself by the thought that it would not be long till he would be able to help them a little at home. And when he would write to his father, telling him of his hopes, the old kind face would smile wisely, and he would say quietly to himself, * Yes, .Charlie, you will be able to help us; and you will pay by instalments.’ But the old man had his own interpretation for the last word. At dinner Martin Elkin told his wife and Annie the news. ‘ The mother wept quietly. Annie stood up and moved quickly till she stood behind her father’s chair; then the strong young arms went around the old man’s neck and the hands clasped over his chest. The head bent down and the sweet lips of the child kissed the white,

wrinkled cheek of her father. The night before the ordination old Martin walked for a long time, back and forth, along the bank .above the sea. . * j To-morrow his boy* would be a priest; and soon lie would see him standing, white-robed, at the altar of God. In the hands of his son the bread and the wine would be pb&ngerl into the Body. and Blood of Christ. Flow could

he ever thank God enough ? He stopped in his walk and looked far down through the darkened shore to where the' great, steady beams of the , Fir Point light poured themselves out over the dark sea, warning sailors of-the rocks and shoals. Hundreds of times lie had seen the light shining so; and he had passed on without any further thought as to its being there. To-night, however, he saw how beautifully symbolic it was. For, centuries ago, on the mountainside, had not the Master likened His followers to a light shining in the darkness? -‘ Ye are the light of the world,’ He had said. Was not Charlie to be a successor to those followers ? He supposed the lad was asleep. But away in the town, kneeling before the tabernacle in the Bishop's private chapel, Charlie was praying under the faint glimmer of the sanctuary lamp. Long after he finished his prayer he knelt there silently, thinking of something. He did not know that he was thinking of what his father called ‘ the first instalment.’

The -great day’ dawned, and the sun came up out of the sea clear and bright. Long before the time set for the beginning of the ceremony the little ■ church was filled with friends of the lad. There were many old and young and middle-aged —who were proud of him; for all through the years of his college course he had not changed his pleasant ways. He had come at vacation time with the old pleasant smile and the warm grip of the hand. They felt that he belonged to them; and as they waited there for. his appearance, many a beautiful prayer went up to the Queen of the clergy, asking her to protect the lad and keep him holy all the days of his life.

Up in the little tower of the church the bell sounded, and when it stopped the door leading from the sacristy opened and the procession filed into the sanctuary. Charlie, clothed in the long white alb and gold-fringed stole, looked pale and a little thin, as candidates for priesthood usually do after their years of seminary training. He carried on his arm the other vestments worn by the priest at Mass. , Annie, who was in the pew with her father and mother, after one long look of affection at her brother, counted the clergy. Besides the Bishop and Father Kerr, there were eight priests, some of whom had come a great distance. Old Father McMullan, with his kind, spectacled eyes and double chin, had come from ten miles beyond Fir Point in a fishing boat. The mists began to gather in old Martin’s eyes. Just twenty-five years ago the old priest had baptised Charlie., The ceremony progressed. Annie watched the priests intently as they put on their stoles. She followed each one with her eyes as, after the'Bishop and his assistants had imposed hands on her brother’s head, they came forward to do the same. She wondered if Charlie ' knew that it was Father McMullan who pressed so heavily on his head. ,' ‘ . : v

She watched her brother as he received t&e vestments and noticed that the last one—the .chasuble, she thought it was called— no lower than his elbows. She knew that when the pins would be removed >: from this, and it would fall to its full length, her brother would,, have already received all the powers of the priesthood. When he came down from the altar where he, had been kneeling at the Bishop’s knee, his hands were . clasped and a white cloth was wrapped around some of his fingers. She knew what this meant; the hands of her brother had just been anointed with the oils of priesthood. She did not look at her father; she felt that the strong man was weeping. Then she heard him pray; ‘O my God, I thank Thee! I thank Thee!’ And then, ‘A priest of God I’ ■

When the chasuble was lowered, and when at the Bishop’s command the choir had sung ‘ O what could my Jesus do more?’ the young levite stood up, vested in all the dignity of God’s holy priesthood. He came over to the sanctuary rail, accompanied by the Bishop. His Lordship invited the parents of the young priest to come to receive his first blessing. . - ✓ They advanced to the rail and knelt ,down. The old father bowed his grey head, and the young priest, with all the love of his strong heart and all the warmth of his priestly fervor, raised his eyes and his hands towards heaven. The hands, fresh from the holy oils, came down gently, yet firmly, on the head of the old father, and rested there; and his son, for the first time, spoke the words of his priestly blessing; ‘May the blessing of Almighty God,' the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost descend upon you and remain forever. Amen.’ Old Martin had received the ‘first instalment!’ — Rosary Magazine.