St. Augustine of Hippo and Compelle Intrae |
An old man of eighty-six,
the father of one of our young workmen, who belonged to the Association of St Francis Xavier, had been for some time suffering from a nervous
affection. On my asking his son about him, he spoke of him as being
utterly irreligious.
"Very well," I replied; "next time I meet him I shall make friends with him."
"Oh, Father, take care what you do. You may be sure he will say something rude to you."
"Never mind, we shall see."
Shortly after I found myself face to face with my man. "Good morning, M. Jeannin," I said, taking his hand; "how are you?"
He pulled his hand away
forcibly: "I don't like priests," he said. "Well, if you do not like
priests, for my part I like people who speak their mind as you do.
Besides, if you do not like priests, you like Almighty God."
"Don't bother me with your Almighty God!"
"For all that, I daresay you still say some kind of little prayer, night and morning."
"I want to hear nothing of your cursed prayers!"
"Goodbye, M. Jeannin ; some other time."
"Goodbye, M. Jeannin ; some other time."
The poor old man was
quivering with rage. "Never mind," I said to myself, you shall make up
for the others, you old rogue; "My God, help me! you have often given me
the grace to carry a soul by storm at the first or second attack; I
shall have to take my time at this one." I determined to get at my old
friend through his stomach; I sent him, by one of my penitents, a nice
meat pie and two bottles of good wine.
"Father Milleriot has sent
you a pie for you and your son, and two bottles of wine, that you may
drink his health," said the kind messenger, when she presented herself
at his house, laden with the good things.
At the first mention of my name, the old man broke out in a fury, but he soon calmed down, "Sit down, madam," he said, "Father Milleriot is very kind."
That was something gained. Shortly after, I called on him myself. "M. Jeannin, here is a friend come to see you!" "Take a seat, Reverend Father."
That was better still, yet
my point was far from gained ; the pies and the wine had to be sent
again and again, at stated intervals.
I went to see him every month, and felt I gained ground every time. I
avoided arguments, preferring to try and touch his heart By degrees he
began to pray himself; after a time, whenever I went, we said a Pater and an Ave together. At length, after waiting four years, he was conquered;
he made his confession, and I gave him his Easter Communion at his own home; for some time past, he had not been able to go out.
Before receiving Communion he said:
"Father, let me say a word to my son before you."
"By all means."
"Look here, James, your
old father is going to Communion for the first time since he made his
First Communion, seventy-nine years ago: you too have neglected the
sacraments; of course you are free to do as you please, but if you will
take my advice, you will do as I have done."
He then received our Lord
with much devotion. Six months later, the poor fellow was said to be in
danger; I administered the last sacraments to him myself, and he expired
peacefully at the age of ninety-two years.
Link (here) to The Month to read the full account.
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