The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 17 July 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

THE AWAKENING OF MAY WELL Father Haynes was the only passenger to alight from the train. The mail sack was tossed out, a trunk dropped heavily on the platform, the engine tooted and the train was off again. ' Traffic is rushing—by Maywell,' he thought. 'Not a soul, in sight but the station agent.' He glanced down the one street of the village which was to be his home for an indefinite period, and although it was yet early in-the evening, it seemed deserted. 'Must be a God-forsaken place,' he mused; 'a hermit's life for me. I guess I'll have to make the best of it. Going over to the station, he introduced himself to the agent, The agent was affable. His duties -nob being onerous, he was always glad to relieve the monotony of existence—and his mind— engaging in conversation with any one similarly disposed. & 'Oh, yes; there is a Catholic church in town, he told Father Haynes, in answer to his query ' And a rectory, too; doesn't look like a palace, to be sure, but it s a house anyway.' ' Are there many Catholics here?' ' Don't know for sure. I reckon there must be quite a few scattered around. There's Pat Reardon and Herman Keekers and Frank Hogan, and—some other names I can't recall now. This is a fine country for Wing, he broke off. ' Game is plentiful. Over in the hills west of here one can find deer and quail and down on the marshes ducks and geese in abundance! » ■' Do you hunt, Father ' Ocasionally—that is, when I can get a day off • for the past seven years, however, I did not have much opportunity to indulge in the sport ' i Well, you'll have lots of time here, I'm thinking nothing doing in this town, and I don't believe there'll be much doing in your line, either.'

As Father Haynes bade, him good-night, he called out cheerily: ' I hope you'll like it here, Father. Drop into the office whenever you happen along and we'll have a talk.' . T,.. . -,;.-, The good Father had no difficulty 'in locating the church. There it stood on the edge of the little town, a small frame structure with its cross pointing: heavenward. Inquiring at a house in the vicinity, he was directed to Mrs. Corby's, where he would find the keys. Mrs. Corby gave him a cordial welcome. Sure, Father, we didn't know you were coming, or we would have things fixed up a bit for you. Here, Jimmy (to her first-born) you run down to the house and light the fire for the Father, while I get him a bite to eat. We thought we were never going, to see a priest, again, after poor Father Jones, God rest him, died. The dear, good man kilt himself entirely, slaving for these .'ongrateful haythens. I hope they'll treat yer Reverence better. 'Tis a poor place you are coming to, but the place wouldn't be so bad if the people were halt right.' And so she rattled on, busied meanwhile with sundry pots and pans which soon began to emit an appetising odor. Father Haynes had been assistant priest in a parish, near the southern border of the diocese for the last seven years, ever since his ordination. A man of fine physique, of genial and sunny disposition and winning ways, he accomplished much good, especially among the youthful members of the flock. They admired him for his manly qualities almost as much as for his sincere piety and priestly character. He found them responsive to his every appeal, whether for picnic, concert, or fair, they always put forth their best efforts to raise funds for the cause of religion.- And now, from being assistant in a well-organised parish where religion and charity were flourishing, it was the will of his. bishop to transfer him to this scattered mission, where, if reports were true, there was little of the love of God or man. But the optimism of youth and health was his; and he resolved to be 'all things to all men'; to face the difficulties with courage, relying 'not on the wisdom of man, but on the power of God.' v At Mass on Sunday the -little church was packed to the. doors. Many who had been strangers to the house of God for years were drawn by curiosity to see die 'strange priest.' And Father Haynes evidently made a good impression, judging by their comments after Mass. 'He looks all right,' was the general verdict. 'The sermon was fine, and he didn't scold doesn't appear stuck up, either wonder if he likes hunting.' And Mickey Mulligan, of pugilistic tendencies, was heard to- remark: Gee ! I wouldn't care to have him tackle me. He has a powerful shoulder, and I bet he can punch some.' 1 -i For the first couple of weeks Father Haynes kept his eyes and his ears wide open. He was carefully sizing up the situation. The people, he observed, were not so very bad, in the ordinary sense of the word. They were passionately devoted to sports and games, and had a perfect craze for hunting and fishing. Living in the heart of a fertile valley, shut in from the strife and bustle of the mad, money-making world, they knew only two seed-time and harvest. They had consequently more time for play than for work. They were a light-hearted, careful people, innocent for the the most part of the ways of the world without and indifferent toward religion; religion did not enter seriously into their lives. When Sunday, came there was a ball game, which of course they could not miss for any consideration; or the fishing was fine over at the river; or the excitement of the chase led them on. There was always something which they preferred before Mass. And so the ordinary Sunday congregatoin was made up mainly of the ' devout female sex.' Such was the condition of things which ' confronted Father Haynes: not so much positive evil as religious indifference. How would he set about remedying this sad stats of affairs? How would he reach the hearts of these frivolous people? After much prayer and thought he resolved to become one of them, go out with them, enter into the spirit of their sports and games, even organise hunting parties, and thus, with God's help, perhaps, gain their souls. He would be ' all things to all men, that he might gain all to Christ.'

There were certain local 'characters/ leaders among their fellows, whose friendship he thought it would be . advisable for. him to cultivate. George Reckers, who. could, send a bullet through : the heart of a bounding deer at 500 : yards Patsy Mulligan, who could always X get the ' limit/ whether of fish or game,; Tom Lanahan,. / * the market hunter/ who was never yet caught by the * game-warden despite the latter's vigilance. Tom's method of hunting was against the law he used a trained cow. Working his way gradually by the side of the cow up to a flock of geese, he had been known to bring down close on 200 birds with his automatic gun before the flock got out of range. And Mickey Mulligan, whose prowess on the ' diamond ' often won victory for the Maywell ' Giants.' These were celebrities; they were somewhat akin to heroes in the popular estimation; they set up the standards which others tried to follow. One morning Father Haynes met George Backers and a few of his chums with their guns slung over their shoulders marching toward the hills. 'Well, boys, I see you are prepared for a killing going to get some fresh meat 'Yes, Father, I expect we'll get some.' ' What are you out for to-day—quail or deer?' Deer, Father. A little vension tastes good these days. We'll bring you a mess for your dinner tomorrow.' Thank you, George. I'd like to go with you, but I have some important matters to attend to to-day.' 'Would you, really, Father?' asked George, fairly surprised. ' Yes, indeed; I think a tramp through the hills would be delightful.' 'Ah, come on, Father; let the business wait,' urged Patsy Mulligan; 'we'll give you a grand day's sport.' Not to-day. Some other time, if you will permit me, I hope to make one of your party.' Are you a good shot, Father?' asked George. ' Well, I can shoot, but I would not claim to be a good shot.' 1 Here, try this rifle, Father,' placing the gun into the priest's hands. 'You'll find it shoots true.' There goes a hawk cried Patsy. Watch him, Father. There—lie 'lights—one, two, four— him, on the ninth telegraph pole from here. Knock the stuflin' out of himexcuse me, Father.' The Father put up his gun, took steady aim, fired, and the hawk fell. '-' Well,.;I'll be darned exploded Patsy. George, I don't believe you could ha' done it yourself. Father, that was a great -shot; you're a crackerjack ! You must come with us sometime. Wait till the rest of the boys hear of this; they'll think you're a wonder.' ' Well, boys, I must bo going. I wish you luck. I hope to see you at Mass on Sunday.' To which there was no response beyond a cheery ' Good-bye, Father.' Father Haynes woke up next morning to find himself famous. George Reckers, the crack shot, would have to look to his laurels. Christmas was drawing near. Father Haynes had been delivering. a series of sermons on the ordinarv duties of a Christian. He saw that the people lacked instruction, and so he adapted his preaching to their needs. He was gratified to see that the congregation was growing; that some who seemed to have little faith or devotion had become regular attendants. If he could only induce them to receive the sacraments at Christmas he knew that God's grace would do the rest. As it was, he could see an awakening of their dormant spiritual faculties; they were, at least, becoming interested. About two weeks before the great festival, he called • on George Reckers and proposed organising a hunting party. He would like to go out with the boys for a ' day's sport. f* 'Do you mean it, Father?' asked George, his eyes opening wide in astonishment. ' t / Mean it! Of course I do. And I Want you to invite all the boys. Charley Mvers will e&me with his auto ; it will seat seven comfortably J three or four more cart hang onto the running-boards, 'Wilson's stable will

send out the “carry-all,” and that will accommodate quite a few.’ ; v '"', v.‘ ‘‘Well,- 1 Father, . this is the best ever! The boys will be tickled to death. You know that us fellers would rather hunt than eat. And to think that your Reverence is going to lead us. We’ll all have a bully time.’ The goose hunt was a success from every point of view. The boys vowed that -they had ‘the time of their lives,’ and that Father Haynes seemed to enjoy it as much as they did. They felt highly honored and flattered at their pastor’s unbending- and condescending to "take a leading part in their favorite sport. From that day they were like clay in his hands; he could mould them as he willed; they were his boys. ‘ I tell you, boys, we ain’t doing right/ said George Reckers some days afterward, when they were assembled in the blacksmith’s shop, discussing current events. ‘We ain t doing right, I say. I haven’t been to my duty in a long, long time, and I guess you fellers are in the same boat. There’s Father Haynes worrying his heart out over no-account fellers like us, that don’t deserve any sympathy or consideration. You heard him last Sunday pleading with us to do something for our immortal souls, his voice so soft and tender—like that it would have touched any heart that wasn’t as hard as flint. You may say what you like, but I’m going to my duty on Christmas morning, with the help of ——’ v r ‘Me, too/ broke in Patsy Mulligan. *Do you mind the day he knocked the stuffin’ out of that darned hawk? Ever since that day I’d ha’ done anything ho asked me.’ 1 Father Haynes was unable to control his emotion on Christmas morning as person after person approached the altar rails to receive the Lord of Life; men who were thought to be hardened, who for years and years had been estranged from God, knelt with the simplicity and devotion of little children to partake of the Bread of Life. No wonder his heart was singing Te Deums. .. Having won their hearts and gained their souls for God, he turned his attention to the material needs of the parish. There was a debt of 1700 dollars. There were no wealthy people in the congregation, neither were there very poor; the majority were in fairly comfortable circumstances. He would make a direct appeal to them. He called a meeting on the first Sunday of the new year. His boys responded nobly; 700 dollars was subscribed immediately. Later on he proposed a concert, and they were all enthusiastically in . favor of it. He made a trip to the big city lying down in the valley on the other side of the range, and secured the services of some musicians, together with the celebrated Lyric quartet.’ His boys sold'tickets, decorated the town hall, set up the improvised stage, acted as ushers and doorkeepers and made themselves useful generally. All Maywell turned out to the concert, and it was voted the best ever given in the valley. Still later, a bazaar was held for three evenings, under the auspices of the newly organised Altar Society, and here, too, the hoys shouldered the principal part of the work. .. In less than nine months something over 2000 dollars was raised, the debt paid, and Maywell was regenerated.— Extension.