IT

THE WHITE CRAVAT.

T is the common experience of catechists who have been long at their sacred task, that the children who have shown themselves really fervent in preparation for their first Communion—who have felt an intense longing to receive Christ into their hearts, and have made Him a solemn promise on the Great Day to be faithful to His service-have almost without exception had the happiness of persevering in their good resolution. One who makes such a promise cannot fail to draw abundant graces on all his undertakings. Such a soul cannot be lost. The following story is but one of countless examples of this truth.

Young Victor Leblanc lived with his parents in a city of southern France. His mother, like every pious mother, was anxious to give her boy a good education, and Victor did not disappoint her expectations. Even in the elementary school he was a source of consolation to his teachers, as well on account of his good behavior as for his rapid progress in learning. At the age of eleven, his mother sent him to the college, where he began his classical studies.

During the first year of his stay at the college, sometime before Easter, the Father Rector gave out the usual list of the boys who were to begin their preparation for First Communion. Victor heard, to his surprise-for all the others were at least twelve years old, that he was one of the happy number; and we can imagine the joy with which his heart overflowed at the blessed prospect.

There was a custom in the college that all these boys should go to the Rector the day preceding their first Communion, to show him a little book where they had written their notes on Holy Communion and the resolutions they had taken in regard to their future life. When Victor came, the Rector was surprised to find in his book only one resolution, and this a very strange one.

It was this: "I resolve to wear my white cravat till I have the misfortune to commit a mortal sin.”

"Victor," said the Rector, "this is a resolution which you can keep only with the special permission of your mother."

His mother, as was to be expected, gladly consented; and after his first Communion Victor always wore the white cravat as a continual remembrance of that great privilege.

This singularity of course soon drew the attention of his fellow students. In fact, he became for awhile the laughing-stock of many of them. Finally one of their number, who had always been intimate with Victor, came to him and entreated him to discontinue his oddity.

66

Listen," replied Victor, "promise me to keep it secret, and I will tell you the reason of what you call a singularity."

His friend promised, and Victor disclosed to him the resolution of his first Holy Communion. His companion left him very deeply impressed, but in spite of his promise soon told most of the students the secret. Then they, in their turn, not only discontinued their mockeries, but met Victor everywhere with kindness and respect.

In 1870, when the Franco-Prussian war broke out, Victor had just finished his studies at the college. He was about to enter the seminary of the diocese when he was drafted into the army. In battle after battle he saw many of his fellow soldiers shot down at his side, whilst he himself fought valiantly, but without receiving any injury.

One day, however, about five hundred men were ordered to regain a certain outpost which had fallen into the hands of the enemy. Victor was one of the storming party. They did their work bravely, but in vain. The enemy were too numerous. Many of the French soldiers were shot down and Victor himself received a mortal wound and fell prostrate on the red field.

An army chaplain happened to pass near him as he lay dying, and on seeing his fatal condition bent down and asked him whether he would not like to receive the last Sacraments.

"I went to confession yesterday," said Victor, "but I am very anxious to receive Communion before I die."

The priest was delighted at the pious words and at once gave him the Blessed Eucharist, which he received with extraordinary devotion. After remaining some moments in silence with his God, Victor turned his white face to the priest.

"Father," he whispered, "please take this white cravat and these beads of the Blessed Virgin and send them to my mother. Her address is written in a note-book here. Tell her the cravat has never been stained, except now with the blood I shed in the service of my country."

THE WIFE'S SECRET.

AVE me from pious converts!"

SAV

"And from pious people in general-eh, coz?"

"Well, they are exasperating, but I did not dream of our little

Mexican pet falling away at the first chance."

"What has she been doing?"

"Only engaging herself in marriage to Tom B—.”

"Scapegrace Tom! Impossible! I will never believe it." "Indeed, yes. I have it from his aunt, who had it from his mother, who has given her consent and blessing."

"Her consent? I should think so. No mother could look higher for her son, but even she could not invoke a blessing on

"Belle, where's your charity?" and the bearer of news laughed gleefully. "Now a malicious gossip like me might be pardoned, but my prudent cousin-I can't stop to lecture you, for the best is to come yet. Mrs. B actually tried to dissuade the fair Inez from thinking of such a marriage, avowed (reluctantly, but honestly) that her dear son Tom, with many virtues (I wonder where he keeps them?) is a scrapegrace to put things mildly; in short, tearfully confessed that she would rather see a daughter of hers dead than married to a man like Tom."

"And Inez was not moved?”

"In one way, very much. She threw her arms around the weeping mother, smiled up in her eyes, though tears were in her own, and said: 'Dear Mrs. B- no child of yours can ever be lost.""

"I agree with her," said the elder lady, in a softened tone. "Truly you are preaching charity to me in the most effective way. Who would have thought Mrs. B- of all mothers, capable of such an act? It is heroic."

"And Inez is a heroine, doubtless, for as she thought of his soul not being 'lost,' I suppose she intends to save it. A happy time she will have! Yes, show Mrs. D― right up"-to a servant"she comes to chat about the news.'

The visitor verified the guess, entering with a hasty "Have you heard, Mrs. F, such a horrid thing, Fan, dear, is it not? Thank you, I'll not sit down; just run over to ask what you both think of- -" pausing to sink upon the sofa with a groan. “A

pious young lady, just imagine it! marrying a graceless scamp like that!-Why, I call it as bad as a mixed marriage!"

66

'Well, it is sort of mixed," said Fan, coolly; adding as the other looked surprised, "he's half Italian, half Irish, you know, by parentage-no American blood in his veins."

"I never thought of that!" Mrs. D was aghast at such monstrous delinquency in the prospective bridegroom.

"Oh! and her father came from Portugal, they say, but she is a Mexican,

"If Boston is in Mexico," suggested Mrs. F.

"Sure enough, I forgot: but still 'twas only the accident of birth, you know. She's in no better case than Tom."

66

Except as to her American mother," said cavilling Fan.

"Her mother was an American, then?"

"Puritan of Puritans; therefore I call the marriage mixed." "Yes, I see. And she was brought up in Boston?"

"No; but her mother was a trifle romantic, or rather sentimental, and determined that her child should be brought up in its spirit as far as might be consistent with the Catholic training which the father insisted on. So when the family returned to Mexico, a New England maid and governess were included.

"Well, I am glad to know all this. As she is half-Protes

"Ah! I was not aware of that. Her Catholic education was solid. Her mother and the governess and maid all became Catholics of the strictest sort."

Mrs. D was silenced. Turning abruptly to another subject kindly started by Mrs. F, she only ventured to say amid her good-bye remarks: "There will be no nuptial Mass, anyhow, for Tom couldn't be led nor driven to Communion!"

Alas for her powers of prophecy! There was a nuptial Mass, as grand as piety, taste, and expenditure could supply, and "Scapegrace Tom," as he was popularly called, behaved admirably in the estimation of sharp-sighted critics, "just as if he was at the altar every morning!" Were the critics satisfied? Not at all; for of course he would be off on the other extreme now, and if his wildness was bad, his puritanism would be unbearable.

Another disappointment! Bride and groom returned from the brief wedding tour which satisfied the most fashionable in those

66

slow times, and went to housekeeping in a style consistent with their wealth and associations. Inez continued her maiden habit of going every morning to Mass, and every afternoon making her visit;" while Tom, as formerly, was a respectful attendant at High Mass, and on especially solemn occasions at Vespers, but there his piety ended. He was evidently as "fast" as ever, and she certainly seemed more worldly than before, the gayest in every gay circle-not a bit pious!

A time soon came when the stream of gossip, more thoughtless than malicious, was turned into compassionate sympathy. The young wife became a mother, but only at once to be left childless. The hasty baptism was scarcely over when the new-born soul was welcomed to its eternal home. A strange thing then occurred. Tom, graceless Tom, could scarcely be restrained by his mother from having a first-class burial for the babe of an hour.

"Think how he was welcomed to heaven!" he almost shouted, "and shall he receive no honors on earth?"

"Dear boy, think of the impropriety," old Mrs. B———— pleaded, and she had her way, but Tom had his as well. When the little coffin was taken into the church, as was the custom in that Western diocese, the cortège that had gathered, silently and uninvited, filled the sacred building. There were men, women, and children, many in tears, more than one sobbing aloud. Pomp and fashion had no representatives there. The mourners were "God's poor."

Never had monarch's child such a funeral. Everybody was ready to explain it by reciting how charitable the B's were. It was talked over again and again, and then forgotten to make way for the usual tide of gossip.

a

Inez, indeed, seemed destined to promote this gossip; but now it became a little more ill-natured than formerly. For who could have thought that matters would resume their old course as they were now doing? She was a trifle paler, but just as fashionable and fond of company as ever. Some ventured to hint that she was 66 little sad-looking, and so sweet!" but there will always be imaginative folks. On one thing all were agreed-Tom was going down fast. He was never seen in church, had grown neglectful towards his wife, disagreeable to friends, and at last was openly cut by those who had regard for the proprieties. Horse-racing had become his absorbing passion, and only his wife's immense wealth kept him from ruin. And through all Inez was the same.