The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 10 June 1915, Page 3

The Storyteller

OUT OF THE STORM Not very long ago a zealous priest was speaking of the varied and wonderful ways of the Lord in bringing about unlooked-for conversions to the Catholic faith & conversions that seemed nothing short of miraculous especially when the early prejudices and teachings of generations seemed to stand in the way like stone fortresses or iron-barred gates. . He began to tell of his own experiences, . and the following was so striking as well as true, that I shall give his account in his own words: t ' Before I came here to take this parish,' he said, ' I was pastor in a small place in a certain part of Wisconsin. I had a neat little church, an averagegood congregation, and was hoping to be able soon to have a school built for the children, who assembled only on Sundays, when I heard their Catechism lesson, and gave them instructions on the Sacraments. We had Confirmation about every two or three years, and it was a good fifteen miles journey to the city to get the bishop. _ Then I had to put him up for the night, and have his Mass, First Communion* and Confirmation next morning. The good bishop was always glad to come, to my little parish, and it was a great day for the people. On the occasion of which lam going to speak, I had prepared a goodly class of boys and girls and some adults, and had begun to think it was-time to call on the bishop and have him fix a date for Confirmation. 'My horse was sick, so I wrote to a friend in the the city—a banker—asking him (since he often offered his automobile) if he could come out on a certain day and take me in to see his lordship. I received an immediate answer, and on the day designated, the "machine" was at the door. We" had a delightful drive, for it was an afternoon in late summer, and the atmospheric conditions were perfect. The scenery, as we passed hill, and forest, and stream, with an occasional farmhouse peeping out, was charming. There was no railroad, then, for miles, the trunk-lines being as yet free from branches to small towns. 'We enjoyed the ride thoroughly. I found the good bishop at home, made an appointment with him, and my friend promised his automobile to convey him to our church and back again. It was a little late when we started home, and we had gone about ten miles when the sky grew as black as ink, thunder rolled, and rain came down like the deluge. We stopped right in the middle of the highway, and let it pour down on the machine. It was a straight rather, rough road, and there was no way of getting to shelter. We made light of it for a while, but soon we were drenched, and saw to our dismay that the storm was a hurricane—a cyclone, if you will. Great branches of trees were torn off and were hurled on us. Leaves were whipped off the forest, and swept down the road. The gale tore at our curtains, which we had tried to fasten closely, between the flashes of lightning. I suggested leaving the machine and seeking some shelter. But my friend said it was better to stay in the open—for we heard the trees, struck by lightning, crash to the ground about us, and the incessant thunder kept us from hearing our own voices, unless we shouted in each other's ears. ' We were there fully an hour, but it seemed double that time. I confess I became apprehensive lest we would not be able to get home at all, when suddenly the wind slackened, the claps of thunder became more distant, and the lightning less vivid. The storm had spent —out still the rain poured down. The machine was sinking in the mud, up to the running board, and right ahead a great tree had fallen across the road, rendering our progress impossible. When we discovered this we were dismayed. What was to be done? My friend, who was younger and more of an optimist than I was, drew his coat collar about his ears, and advised me to do the same.

. •'• We both '': blunged into the woods not far away, with ; little hope of finding anything, or anybody, to help us out of our dilemma, " for we could neither advance nor ■go back, and the rain was still pouring down, -if '•' -Pretty wet proposition,-isn't it ?" said my friend, mockingly. - ' ' "Well, it's the worst experience I have ever had," .... I said, between the gust of wind that swept the falling leaves into my face. ' "Where going?" he said in answer. .'"lndeed I don't know," I replied. "/But just then, both at once, we saw a light gleaming ahead of us. '"Bravo!" he cried. "There's a light! Now we have hope !" And, very much encouraged, we both redoubled our speed, and soon found ourselves before a comfortable farmhouse standing back from the road, with light streaming from the windows. We hastened to the door, which in response to our repeated knocks, was opened by a slender young girl with a most prepossessing face—who drew back when she saw standing without, two men with caps pulled down' on their faces, and coats dripping with rain. ' "Come here, father!" she cried. ' Instantly a sturdy farmer, his comfortable-looking wife, and two boys about twenty or twenty-two, loomed up from the interior of the house and blocked up the doorway. I tried to be courteous, standing in the rain. "We have been caught in the storm, and our automobile is sunk, in the mud on the road," said I. "Besides a tree has fallen across the way, and we are not able to remove it. You see, we.are soaking wet. Will you kindly give us shelter until the storm passes? Then if you are good enough to help us to raise the machine and remove the tree, we will pay you as generously as we can." '"Come right in!" said the farmer, heartily. "You are welcome strangers. You have got into hard lines, sure. Martha, put on two extra plates. Take off your wet coats, and come in to the fire. We are .just sitting down to a late dinner. Come right 'in! Rachael (to the young girl), take their wet coats and hang them before the fire." ' Extremely grateful for this most unexpected greeting, we stepped inside the hospitable doors, and found ourselves in a large comfortable kitchen, where a blazing fire, and a good odor of a most appetising meal greeted us. My friend gave his wet coat and cap to Rachael, who smilingly took them, and urged me to go to the fire. My friend was talking to the farmer, the wife was bustling around, the boys stood and •stared, while I was left somewhat in the shadow. ' I ran my hand through my disordered hair, arranged my Roman collar which had been covered by my coat, and looked down at my wet shoes, which were in a sorry condition. When I looked up it was because an ominous silence had fallen on the air. I turned round to see the farmer, his face growing red and stormy, looking full at my Roman collar. ' "Are you a Romish parson?" he rather shouted, than said, to me. mean," I said, pleasantly. "What of it?" ' "What of it?" he echoed. Don't you know we are solid, hard-shelled Baptists? No infernal Papist has ever darkened our door before ! Do you think I'll have a Popish priest at my table?" ' And he thumped his fist on the table till the dishes rang. ' I determined I would be pleasant. " Well now, Sir," I said, "it is too bad we were caught in that rain—too bad our machine stuck in the mud. Why, ;; I was just thanking Providence for . this unexpected hospitality, and silently invoking blessings on this fine household. .Is there any reason, why I should be so displeasing to you ? I have never done you any harm." "Root, branch, and fibre, my family and I hate Papists It's born in us, and .in my ancestors ! I never was so near to a Popish priest in my life, and

no Papist parson will ever sit down in my house at the same table with me*!"' he shouted. - '' "' 'The family stood aghast. My "friend looked at me quite troubled. I saw that the poor man was struggling with the traditions of hospitality and the bigotry of a false religion. : •>, / : , ■'•v.;? ; f; ' "Well," I said, "there is nothing for us to do but go into the storm. - May we stay in the barn till daylight? I give you my word we are peaceable men." I said, smiling, and I moved towards the door. • '"Oh, dad!" said the young girl, "what are you thinking about?" ; '"Hold on, father," said the eldest boy. "You wouldn't let" the dogs out a night like this." ' My friend now spoke. ' "Sir," he said, "my name is Mr. X . lam a banker in the town of D . This reverend gentleman is a friend of mine. ■ If I don't mistake, I have seen you in the bank. Are you not. Amos Wilton, and don't you remember seeing me before? Do I, or does my friend look like a man to deserve such language ?" ' The farmer, on hearing these names, showed his discomfiture at once. With a muttered apology, he pointed out places at the table, and called to his 'wife to serve the dinner. Nothing more was said. I determined not to lose my good nature, and when we began the meal I started to talk on the topics of the day, addressing myself to the boys, to the girl, and at last' in the most pleasant manner, to Amos himself. ' Finally, under the influence of the good dinner, the warmth, and light he thawed, and although apparently ashamed of himself, joined in the conversation which my friend and I kept going. ■ At the end of the meal he rose up like a man, and apologised awkwardly. ' "See here, strangers, you musn't mind a man in a temper. I own I had no right to talk as I did. I hope you' won't bear me any ill will. . It's in' the blood of the Wiltons to be down on the Catholics, and I ain't an exception." 'Turning to my friend, he continued: "Yes, Sir, I have money in your bank, and I'm right sure you wouldn't be companion to a man, even if he is a Catholic parson, who had a bad reputation. So I take back what I've said, and my sons and I will go out to that automobile, and see what we can do for you.' 'Of course, my friend and" I assured him we had paid no attention to his remarks. They were natural, considering the surprise, and we thanked him for the fine supper. I took out a "green-back," and would have offered it to him, only he shouted to me to put it back in my pocket. ' He was only a victim of bigotry— his fault, and his heart was as sound, as a nut. ' We got our coats, and hats, and all five went to the door. The rain had stopped, and the moon was shining. With the strong arms of the three men, and our own, we got the tree to one side, and pried up the "machine." After it was on harder ground we found there was no damage done. Soon we started off. The farmer shook hands heartily with us, as did his sons, and as we sped along you may be sure we could talk of nothing else but our adventure. We reached home late at night, but safely. The days passed on, the good bishop came, and administered Confirmation. The great occasion was over, and things settled down into their usual routine. I remembered the storm and the farmer for a long time, but at last the memory of it all faded away. * * * *' * Two years passed by, and I was in the next town, assisting the pastor at the Forty Hours. When it was over I said good-bye, and was going down the steps of the rectory into the street. Just then, a slender, pretty young girl, dressed with taste, came up to me with a smiling face. ' "Are you not Father So-and-So?" '"Why, yes," I replied. "I think you have the advantage of me. Ido not remember ever having seen you before. What is your name?" ' "My name is Rachael Wilton," she said. ■ ';; ' Still I was not able to place her. v How do you

know my name?" I said, for I was in a strange parish. v. •■■■:.' "father," she said, taking a little book out of .;'.; her pocket, "do you remember being storm-bound one evening two y ears ago ? It was a terrible storm, and ydu and your friend had to leave your automobile, and seek shelter in my father's farmhouse. He gave you ? stormy welcome, too," sue said, smiling, "but he did not mean it. You were wet through, and took off your coats to 'dry, and this little book fell out of your pocket. I found it after you had gone. Do you remember, now, and do you recognise the book?" "*" ' Indeed I did. I remembered the young girl who admitted us .from the heart of the storm that evening, and I recognised the book, a small Imitation of Christ, which was given me by a friend in the seminary. ' I prized it highly, and 1 had been greatly distressed when I found I had lost it. I had no idea where it was. I reached out for it eagerly. '"Of course I recognise it!" I said, opening the book, where sure enough my name was plainly written on the fly-leaf. No wonder she knew my name ! ' "And so you have had my book all this time," I said, smiling. The girl flushed. '"Father, I began to read it, and it fascinated me. * I always meant to return it to you some day. I read it over and over again, and each time I became more and more convinced that those doctrines were the doctrines of the true Church. This is why I came here to-day--to see if I could find you and ask you to give me more information about the" Catholic Church." ' All this time we had stood talking on the steps of the rectory. "Come in, my child," I said, "and I will introduce you to Father X . lie will do all I could do for you, and more.' • We entered the rectory, and by good fortune just met the pastor. Re took us into his study. Then I told him of the night of the storm, introduced Miss Wilton, and showed the little Imitation of Christ as the innocent cause of leading this chosen soul to the faith of Christ. lie was quite interested, and said he would do all in his power to instruct and help her. ' "I might as well tell you, Father," she said, "that I have left home, and I want to get a position here as a teacher. I have some money of my own, and a good enough education, and I think I can manage. When I told my father I was convinced that the Baptist Church was wanting, and that I was going to look into the Catholic Church, he raged, and fumed, and swore. Finally he ordered me out of the house, and told me never to darken the door again. You know what a temper he has, Father," she said to me. "Well, it hasn't improved much. I made up my mind I would go and try to learn what Catholics believe. I am staving with a friend here, and mother knows all about it, but she can do nothing. The boys are with father." ! There was a little catch in her voice as she mentioned these details, and I saw that the pastor was deeply touched. She was in good hands. I left her with him, presenting the book to her, although she wished to return it, and seemed distressed at my depriving myself of —I told her it was a great pleasure to give her this little souvenir, and I would always be glad she had it. When I told her this she was satisfied. I left then, and the pastor promised to take care of her. This he did, for he took the trouble some weeks after to come up to see me and tell me of her progress. ' Without trouble she had secured a good position as teacher in the district school. She had come regularly for instructions, had been baptised, and had made her first Holy Communion. Her mother had come down to see her, and was surprised to find her so well \ and happy, and doing so nicely. She had secured a J»pleasant home with friends, and was quite independent. She was, in fact, a good Catholic, fervent and in earnest, and thanked God continually for His goodness in allowing that little book, the Imitation of Christ, which came to her out of the heart of the storm, to be her guide into the true fold. She never ceased praying for her dear

ones at home, all of whom, except her mother, had disowned her. - "_*■:-... ; . >; ■.-'-'■*.''.''.-,■• * • * *-' * ■ . * * •'".'■ \:~>-' 'lt was all true. Yet while Rachael went about her daily work with the heroism born of true conversion, and an enthusiasm that kept her gratitude to God glowing and fervent, when the day's toil was over there were hours of depression in her lonely room that, tried her strength of soul to the utmost. How could she help missing the old happy hours at the homestead, the rough, tender love of that old father, the devotion of her two brothers, and the sense of security and protection from the cold indifference of the world ? Do not all converts have such hours of pain ? Rachael was not an exception, but God was with her. She prayed for strength, and it came. She prayed for those dear ones from whom she was exiled because she preferred her Lord, and with more and more love did she plead with Heaven for the reason that she felt the superabundance of light and peace flood her own heart. The years passed by. It seemed as if her prayer could not be heard. But the answer came, and again I was the happy medium of winning their souls to God. ' One afternoon I was riding leisurely along the same old road where our automobile met with such a storm the clay my friend and I had gone % to secure the bishop for Confirmation. Strange to say, although it was fully four years before, the whole scene came vividly before me. The storm, the darkness, the rain, the old farmhouse, the abuse of the farmer, the good meal, the conversion of Rachael—and I began to think of her fervent prayers for the conversion of her family. Surely, I .thought, such prayers, and such a sacrifice will have their reward. I was passing the woods, beyond which I knew was the old house, when I saw a man, a farm-hand, a man I did not remember having seen before—running towards me, waving his hat as a signal for me to stop. Of course, I did so. When he came up to me, although out of breath, he asked if I were not a priest. ' "Certainly I am," I replied. ' "Are you Father So-and-so?' he asked. ' "Yes, that is my name," I answered. ' "Well, Father, for pity's sake will you come over to see Mr. Wilton ; the old man is sick, has been in. bed for two weeks. He is so restless and cross that the wife and sons are worn out with him. They got the Baptist minister to come and see him, but before he left the old man lost patience with him, and he left in a temper. He began to mention your name —said he wished he could get to see you. It seems you came here one stormy night long ago, and he treated you badly. Am I right?" '"I remember," I said, smiling. "He was only talking for his ancestors. He really had nothing against me. We parted the best of friends. Of course I'll go to see him. Can the horse go through theso woods?' ' "I'll lead him," said the man. I'm mighty much obliged to you for coming, and I know the missis will be, too. Just say you heard he was sick, and that you made a friendly call." ' ' It was only a few minutes when Ave found ourselves before the farmhouse. How well I remembered it ! Mrs. Wilton came to the door, looking worn and pale. But her face lighted up when she saw me. ' "You are welcome, indeed, Sir," she said. "My husband is very poorly, and besides he is so restless and worried like. We don't know what to do for him. The doctor says he'd get well, if he'd stop fretting. You see," she said in a whisper, "he has never been the same since Rachael left us." ' "May I see him?" I asked. ' "Yes, indeed. Why, he's been wishing you would come along. It seems you took him so kindly the night of the storm, that he never forgot you. He said any other man would have knocked him down for the way he abused you. He's sorry for it now."

.";-_-.«' "Why, I never gave • it a thought,"l laughed. "I knew he never meant it?' . i ' - 'No, - he didn't," she said. - Ho always had a temper, but it was over as quick as it came. Come up with me." ": ; ' She led mo to a pleasant room where, propped up on pillows, lay Amos Wilton, reading the paper. .He certainly looked a sick man. But he threw down the paper, pulled off his glasses, and stretched out his hand in welcome, while a friendly smile played on his face. '."You're welcome, stranger," he said. "This time I am glad to see the Papist parson!" ' "And I am glad to see you, but not as a sick man. I hope it won't be long, however, until you are up and about." ' Take a seat, Sir. Martha, get a chair, and don't be all day about it." ' The obedient wife obeyed orders, and then left the room. 'Amos continued: "I don't know about being up and about. There's more the matter with my soul than with my body. Somehow, since I sent my daughter, Rachael, out into the world, because she intended to worship God the way she felt bound, I haven't had an hour's peace. That girl has some of her old dad's make-up in her, and it occurs to me very often that if she didn't think she was right she would never have acted the way she did. And if it's right for her, why it's 'right for me, and that's all about it. I have been wanting right along to talk religion with some one that knew all about it, and they scut for the Reverend Jones, but he didn't get on to the tack I needed. So I let him know it. Then you came into my mind, and I kept a wishing and a wishing you'd come along, and here you are !" ' "And I am delighted that the Lord sent me when you wanted me,' I said, heartily, ' and I think I can satisfy you in all your questions.' 'And then this simple-hearted, hot-tempered man began to ask about the faith of Christ. He listened wonderingly to the plain, clear truths of religion. I sat with him a long time patiently answering "all his objections. Finally I asked him if he would read the little book I drew out of my pocket, a small catechism, and I promised that I would come back soon again, lie consented readily, and when I arose to go he called his wife to show me out. His face was full of grateful feeling when I said good-bye. " ' I told his wife I thought he would get better, and she seemed greatly consoled. 1 promised to return in a few days, and left the house wondering at the ways of God. I saw the touch of grace in the man's heart, and it had so transformed him that I could only wonder and praise the Lord. Old Amos Wilton plunged into the instructions the way he did everything. He made his wife and sons listen to that catechism. After my visits he would repeat all

I had told him, and in course of time, his mind being easier and the burden of his perplexities relieved, ho became better. -. ; ~ .- ' At last the day arrived when I told him I would baptise him, and by this time I had included; wife and sons in the instructions. He washable to ride to the church, and Rachael was there, to be present—-all tears and. joy-at the baptism of father, other, vand 5 ? two brothers. Although they were Baptists they had never been baptised. .. ' Happiness beamed from Rachael's tearful eyes. She could not contain her gratitude to God, and indeed it was as much as I could do to keep back the tears of joy that persisted in coming to my own eyes. ' Rachael went home with them, and it was the talk of the neighborhood for many days—how the Wilton family all "went over to Rome." But in the hearts of the new converts there was that peace which the world cannot give, that surpasses all the good things of this world. May God give them all the grace of perseverance !'— The Missionary.