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February 20, 1937     Arkansas Catholic
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February 20, 1937

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Page Eight THE GUARDIAN, FEBRUARY 20, 1937 r The Coming Of The Monster A Tale of the Masterful Monk By OWEN FRANCIS DUDLEY THE STORY SO FAR In Paris. in January, 1919, a French oilu ,e greeted by an officer with whom • served at Verdun. A flaxen-haired school-girl, with curiously deep blue eyes, regards them for a moment and passes b- The poilu, embittered, looks to class; hatred and the Bolsheviks to end wars the officer speaks of a better way. in England, on an April morning, 1924, gttsts arrive for LadF .Wray:s an- nouncement of her daughter verna a an- ,element to Harland Carville. Verna announces to Harland her refusal to go through with the engagement, due to his flagrantly indecent book which she has Just read• In Hollywood Verna and her irl friend, Terry i-larcourt, visit the Im studios. Verna and Terry now llve together in a flat in London. With her friend Terry on board ship returning to Engdand she meets Captain Vivien, of the intelligence Service, who recog- a|zes her as the flaxen-halred school- girl who had listened for e moment on s Paris corner to his conversation with the embittered poilu. Father Anselm Thornton, the Masterful Monk, visits Miss Wray to speak to her of Captain Vlvfen. and draws |ram her the con- |ossion that. though she loves Captain Vivien. who has'ask ed her to mnrry him, and though she is convinced she should become Catholic, she is un- able to enter te Church because her father, who is wealthy, has threatened to disinherit her. Plotters in Mos- cow receive a report from Krenov, who to woring |n England. As the five p. m. from Victoria ran into Windern Station, a chauf- feur in livery'emerged from the waiting-room to take up his po- sition on the platform under a lamp. A carraige-door opened as the train carnie to a stand-still, and the monk stepped out. The chauf- feur cam up and touched his cap: "Good evening, Father." "Evening, Stanley." The chauffeur took a suit-ease from the monk, and led the way, through the, out- side. The monk followed leisure- ly. While giving up his ticket he glanced down the platform. He saw in the lamplight a figure step out of a carriage half-way down. He remembered afterwards seeing a carriage-door at the extreme end of the train slightly open. Outside, in the road, he found the chauffeur holding open the door of the ear. The monk put his head in and looked at the clock. It was five minutes past six. "I' going to walk, Stanley" "Walk, Father?" "Exercise. If you'll give the suit-case a lift." ] "Two miles to Hendringham. Dark night, Father." "Carry on. I know the way." "Very good, Father." The chauffeur hesitated for a moment, and then stepped inside. The monk started off down the read to the left. A minute later the car passed him, gathering speed. Hedges and trees on in front rose in ghostly array, caught by the headlights before they swept round a ben¢ to the right. Above him the train thundered by, and on into the night. Beyond the bend, his eyes, growing accustomed to the dark, made out the straight line of the road ahead. He walked steadily on, through the now unbroken si- lence of the Sussex night. After a quarter of a mile he passed the lighted windows of a cottage, slightly quickening his pace as he crossed the patch of yellow on the road. A hundred yards on he stopped abruptly, struck a match, held it before his face as though light- ing a cigarette, and listened. From somewhere behind him a faintly audible sound of feet on the hard surface ceased also. He blew out the match and looked back. In the darkness beyond the yellow patch nothing was visible. A dog, bark- Lug in the distance, accentuated the stillness. He went on. After a short distance he looked back again, but without altering his pace. A figure was crossing the patch of light, on the left side of the road. The monk veered from the center, keeping near to the hedge on the right. By slight- ly varying his step at intervals, he could catch the steady beat of feet behind. He was straining his eyes ahead, when the headlights of a car came swinging round a comer from a slde.road. The oncoming dazzle drove him close up to the ditch. As the car passed he shielded his eyes, and then turned swiftly. For a brief moment the figure be- hind was revealed in the glare-- with a hand in an overcoat pocket. The monk strode on. The feet behind him were quickening as he reached the side- road to the right, from which the car had come. He made round the comer, scrambled Up a turf bank, and thrust himself, back first, heedless ofthorns, against the hedge. The feet were nearing hurriedly now--in a way that told him his turn tb the right had been seen. He waited, taut, with nerves tuned up to the peril. The man's pace slackened as, he reached the cor- ner .... The monk experienced a curi- ous flash of recognition as Roslavl stood beneath him five yards away with a raised revolver, breathing quickly and searching about with the muzzle. For, in the forest of Archangel, seven years ago, Ros- lavl had stood in much the same way, following him with a re- volver. There was no intention of failing this time; momentarily puzzled, though the man was, at not finding him within range. The monk calculated swiftly. The revolver, by its outline, was six-chambered. Discovery at close quarters meant certain death. He :ould not remain cramped up for long without some sound betray- ing him in the stillness; and he doubted whether he was invisible • . He knew his own strength. It vas the revolver . . . Already Roslavl understood that he was somewhere in the shelter of the hedge. The levelled muzzle was searching every yard of it, further on, and then slowly nearer, ap- proaching every second .... The monk landed on him just in time. They fell together heavily on the road, with a bullet whistling upwards to the stars. The impact and explosion left them dazed; but only for a moment. The monk felt the muzzle being tugged from his grip; for the other had the butt. He let go and secured his wrist, twisting the arm down un- til the savage animal beneath him was snarling with pain. Without moving his weight, he worked his knee on to the wrist, unlocked the fingers, removed the revolver and flung it into the darkness over the hedge. Then he stood up, and contemplated that thwart- ed, maddened figure on the road. "Get up!" Roslavl did so; very slowly. The monk heard the htss of his breath, and mutterings in Rus- sian. His hand was fumbling. "Leave that knife" The hand continued to move. "You--" The monk caught a glint in the dark, as the other came at him with his hand upraised• He mark- ed the black slits gleaming for his life, and then struck with his full length and strength . . . The knife came down on his shoulder, piercing the cloth of his coat. The clink of it on the road and a dull thud ease simul- taneously. He gave himself time to recover his breath; then picked up the knife, looked at it, walked to the bank, stuck it in the earth, and drove it in with his heel out of sight. He came back and stooped over the prostrate figure, lying there with face upturned. "Padre, that was very good." The monk started at the voice, and looked up. Another figure was standing there in black out- line, looking on. He answered, after his first surprise: "I couldn't wait for a week. It had to be settled--this." He began examining the un- conscious man, lifting the head and feeling with his fingers. "Did you happen to see how he dropped?" "He has not fallen on his head-- no." The head seemed all right. " "Give us a hand, Louis." , Between them they lifted Ros- lavl and carried him to the side, laying him against the bank. They searched his person, but found no further weapons. "You were on that train?" the monk asked. "Ir£deed, yes." "You saw---all this?" "I have him covered--from over there .... After the cottage, it becomes exciting. So I run." Captain Vivien showed a small- pattern revolver, and slipped it back into his overcoat pocket apologetically: "I cannot fire, because you are somewhere in the dark. However, it is perhaps better--like this." "Louis, you're a brick. I'm sor- ry I've given you all this bother • . What are we going to do? I'm supposed to be on the way to Hendringham.' Captain Vivien studied the still figure between them, and then bent over. When he rose again, Roslavl was handcuffed. He asked the monk: "You think he will be con- scious? Soon?" "Any time!" "Then you may go to Hendring- ham." The monk did not move. "There is no need for you now, Padre." He asked: "What'll you do? Take him back to London?" "Indeed, yes." "By yourself?" To the Windern Police-sta. tion. Why not? He is handcuffed. I have a revolver." The monk appeared to be think- ing. "He'll go through the ordinary process of the law?" "Naturally. It is attempted murder." "And I'll have to appear--and all the rest of it?" "I am afraid so." The monk began walking about• Captain Vivien lit a cigarette and watched him. Padre, he is a homicidal maniac, with one man on his brain. If he is not charged, he is free. And he will not rest until he kills you." The monk stopped. He said un- decidedly: "It would be sending him to hell. At least--Couldn't one aP-I peal to him?" I "It is only brute force and the I law which appeal to him." "He's got a soul somewhere•" "He has also got a devil." There was a further interval of indecision. Then: "One can't ap- peal to a handcuffed man. Would you take those off, if I asked !you?" Captain Vivien shrugged his shoulders: "The Church of God asks it. Very well." He knelt down and unlocked the handcuffs, replacing them in his pocket. Roslavl was groaning, as he did so. The monk came near. They saw the black slits of his eyes open. He looked vaguely about. Remembrance was  returning. The black slits fasten- ed first on the monk, and then on Captain Vivien who seemed to puzzle him for a moment. It must have slowly dawned on him in what capacity the latter was there, for he exhibited no grati- tude when they helped him to sit up, but struck savagely at the flask in Captain Vivien's hand--a wild animal at bay. The flask was closed and put away. The monk was subjected to vile im- precations in Russian. The man was himself again amazingly soon. His hand even began to fumble instinctively. The monk informed him: "You'll find nothing there." The man glared, impotently. "How much English do you understand? I want to talk to you." Roslavl muttered in Russian. Captain Vivien interposed: "You can talk English, Ros- lavl. Come on." The sound of his own name startled him. An alertness ap- peared. His cunning began to assert itself, though too obviously. He asssumed incomprehension, surlily shaking his head, and then proceeded to stand on his feet. They let him. H'e was warily waiting for a chance, for anything that his wits could turn to use. He began brushing at his clothes. The monk said slowly and distinctly: "Roslavl, that's twice. Are you going to try again?" He paused, almost impercep- tibly, in the brushing process, and then continued. His self-posses- sion was remarkable, considering what the question must have con- veyed. He took off his overcoat, and began shaking it--ostensibly to remove the dust and dirt. While doing so he looked about. He let go of the coat with one hand and pointed to his head, indicating that he had no hat. Captain Vivien went to pick up an object lying in the middle of the road. Roslavl followed. They failed to see his intention; and for once Captain Vivien was caught .... The full force of that kick might l have broken his skull, had he stooped lower. As it was, it caught his temple at an angle. "You devil!" came in rage from the monk. Roslavl had calculated care- fully; for already he was making for the corner. The monk flung off his overcoat, with the in- tention of running him down, realizing, as he did so, that Cap- tain Vivien was lying helpless in the center of the road. He lost time badly dragging the dead weight to the bank, as Roslavl vanished to the left. He placed his overcoat beneath; and, in the act, became alive to something happening near by. His ears had caught a shout, and then a hideous grinding of brakes. He remained still, on one knee, listening• A car had suddenly stopped. A woman's frightened shriek came. He saw the hedge across the main road whitely lit up. Captain Vivien was stirring. He had not been more than stunned; and regained possession of his senses to perceive, uninformed, what had occurred. For his hand went straight to his temple. He looked about for Roslav1, and said weakly: "So he has--" "I don't know what's happen- ed, yet. Will you be all right here?" Without further delay--for more sounds were travelling on the night air--the monk went quick- ly to the corner and out into the main road. He looked down it to the left to be blinded by a dazzle of headlights. A car was at a standstill further on. He walked towards it, and must have been seen; for the figure of a woman, beckoning wildly, appeared in the stream of light. He reached her. She was in evening dress be- neath a fur coat, and in a state bordering on hysteria. The left wheels "of the car were in the bank. "Oh, my God! . . . Go and see! . . . I can't go there" A man's voice called, "Could you come here, sir?" The monk went on, past the car--to find a man on one knee in the road, bending over a huddled shape• "What's happened?" The man did not seem to know what had happened, beyond that a running figure had come swerv- ing blindly into his lights, dazzled apparently. The car had caught him, and they had gone over his body, before he had time to pull up--"What the devil was he run- ning--" "Got a light? A torch?" the monk asked. The man stood up shakily. He was also in evening clothes. He went back to the car. The monk stooped down. He knew already whose silent form it was. His hands began feeling cautiously. Roslavl lay with his back to the road, his face twisted downwards, unnaturally. He lifted the right hand, and laid his fingers on the wrist. It was the hand that, twice, had held a revolver levelled at himself . . . He. heard, "For God's sake, pull yourself together," to the wo- man, and the man returned. A thin beam of light played down. "What do you make of him?" "Hold it at his neck." The little circle of white mov- ed. The monk began unbutton- ing. He succeeded in removing the collar. "Looks queer? • • • What do you think? Get him on to a doctor?" The monk informed him, "I am one," without looking up. He began examining, inatten- tive to the man's remark• It took him less than a minute. His fin- gers merely confirmed what he had guessed from the position of the head. He took the torch for himself... The eyes were already glazing .... "He is dead?" It was Captain Vivien, stand- ing above him The monk re- main on one knee, his lips mov- ing silently. Then he raised himself: "Yes." (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1936, Longsman, Green & Co.) (N. C. W. C. Features) Editor To Discuss Catholic Press in Radio Addresses ._..._._...- Series of Talks Starts Feb. 21 Chicago, Feb. 5. (.--The Rev. Jerome De Pencier, O. S. M., Edi- tor of The Servite and Vice-Presi- dent of the Catholic Press Asso- ciation, will broadcast a series of Catholic Press talks as a part of the observance of Catholic Press Month. The talks will be given over station WGES, at the 12 o'clock High Mass in Our Lady of Sor- rows Church, on Sundays Febru- ary 21, 28 and March 7 and 14. Father De Pencier is Viee- Provincial of the American Pro- place of the Servite Order. Who's Who ::: Among Catholic Writers By Katherine Bregy, Litt. D. HELEN PARRY EDEN' Mrs. Eden is, of course, a far younger poet than Alfred Noyes' but she will be considered first in our little series because she is an older Catholic--having been received into the Church with her artist husband in 1909. Helen Parry, a daughter of Judge Sir Edward Abbot Parry of Welsh descent, was educated at Roedean School and Manches- ter University before studying Painting at King's College, Lon- don. She was married in 1907 to Denis Eden, a painter well known later on for church dec- orations in England. Her first volume of poetry, "Bread and Circuses," was issued in 1914, and won much praise for its origi-i nality and lyric charm. In fact, I it placed her immediately in the I gifted group of men and women • i who were makmg contemporary[ Catholic literature in England-- I a group which, because of their I impatience with modern material- I ism and their insistence upon the i Faith in all its simplicities and its grandeurs, have elsewhere been dubbed by the present writ- er Modern Medievalists. In sub- ject this early work was largely a poetry of motherhood; or rather of childhood, since its heroine was obviously the poet's diminu- tive daughter Betsey-Jane, and it: concerned itself with Betsey- ]ffane's toys, her ginger cat, her rambles, her parties and her pray- !ers. But the lines modestly en- titled "To a Little Girl" are, in] their playful way, as profound an interpretation of mother-love and mother-learning as the dramatic and very different "Maternity" of Katharine Tynan:-- "You taught me ways of gracefulness and fashions of address, The mode of plucking pansies and the art of sowing cress, And how to handle puppies, with propitiatory pats For mother dogs, and little acts of courtesy to cats. O connoisseur of pebbles, col- ored leaves and trickling rills, When seasons fit as do the sheaths that wrap the daf- fodils, Whose eyes divine expectancy foretells some starry goal, You taught me here docility and how to have "my soul." Mrs. Eden has also and all along shown particular excellence and !freshness in the difficult field of i religious verse, where her ,divine familiarity" and fondness for bi- lingual refrains bring a distinctly medieval flavor. And in the poem "Confessional"--with its feminine and domestic interpretation of the sacrament of penance as the sweetening of a "dingy room" soon to welcome a Divine Guest---she gives us something very like a masterpiece. But her late vol- ume, "A String of Sapphires," where she attempts and achieves a finely moving rhymed life of Our Lord, is so masterfully beau- tiful that Catholic readers---hath old and young--impoverish them- selves by not knowing it better. One is tempted to borrow many quotations; but this brief passage concerning the repentent thief on the cross will illustrate its simple yet poignant appeal: "Then to God's Son he turned him, Out of his heart spoke he, For torture held his hands and feet, But heart and tongue were free: 'When Thou art come to Thy kingdom, O Lord, remember me.' 'Amen,' answered Our Savior, 'I say to thee this day Thou shalt be with Me in Paradise.' For already Heaven lay Like a prize within His wounded hands For His pity to give away." Along with her austere nobility of ideals Helen Parry Eden car- ried a somewhat frolicsome imag- ination, which the none-too-easy ways of life have turned some- times to whimsy, sometimes to irony. All of these qualities fused together point the moral and adorn the tale when she turns to prose ---as she does in that delectable series of medieval and modern sketches grouped together in her most  recent work, "Whistles of Silver." Many of these stories are redolent of Italy, where Mrs. Eden and her husband have found a second home when absent from the Oxford neighborhood. And surely it is evidence of an al- most Chestertonian versatility of work that the same writer can turn successfully from allegorical tales to poems of "Sorrow" or of divine and human childhood-- then to regular and witty reviews for "Punch!" One wishes she might capture something of the incredibly continuous Chesterton- fan volume of work, also. For Thursday, February Tarasius was born at nople about the eighth century, of a He was made consul wards first secretary the Emperor Const Empress Irene, his midst of the court he ious life and was mously to be the Paul, patriarch of • Friday, February Porphyry, Bishop. At 25, Porphyry, a rich Thessalonica, left the one of the great reli in the desert of Scete. Helen Parry Eden is one of the lwas broken through few authors of whom one is never I but upon his selling able to read enough. She ought lpossessions and dist to bring a master-hand t'o the lreturns to the poor, modern revival of the Miracle lturne d to perfect hea: Play. I ordained in 393 and (N. C. W.'C. Features) WEEKLY CALENDAR OF FEAST DAYS Sunday, February 21. -- Saint Severianus, martyr, Bishop. No one resisted with greater zeal than did Severianus, Bishop of Scythe- polls, the persecution raised by Theodosius, an ignorant Eutych- fan monk, under the protection of the Empress Eudoxia. Severianus' reward was the martyr's crown. He was dragged from the city by the infuriated soldiers and mas- sacred in the latter part of the year 452 or in the early part of 453, Monday, February 22. -- Saint Peter's Chair at Antioch. That St. Peter, before he went to Rome, founded the See of Antioch is at- tested by many Saints. St. Leo says we ought to celebrate the chair of St. Peter with no less joy than the day of his martyr- dom; for as in this he was exalted to a throne of glory in heaven, so by the former he was installed head of the Church on earth. Tuesday, February 23. -- Saint Peter Damien was born in 988 and achieved distinction at the Uni- versity of Parma. He deserted the world and eventually became head of the monks of Font-Avellano. Seven Popes in succession made him their constant advisor and he was at last created Cardinal Bish- op of Ostia. He withstood Henry IV of Germany and labored in defense of Alexander III against the Antipope, whom he forced to yield and seek for pardon. Wednesday, February 24 -- St. Matthias, apostle. Matthias was selected, after prayer, to fill the vacancy among the Apostles left by the defalcation of Judas. He was above all remarkable for his mortification of the flesh• later was made He died in 420. Saturday, February 2 Leander, Bishop, was illustrious family at Spain, the eldest of five He entered' a monastery young and in time his sacred learning led to tion of the See of time when Spain was session of the came the happy converting the nation to: He died about the yearl Catholic Begun in Mexico City, Feb. 8. is the name of the Catholic weekly which as the official organ tional Confederation of sociations. Its editor Jose A. Romero, S. J. The new publication aim: "A common tie, organ in which the associations may give of their activities which may be found reading matter, of imitation and Catholic brethren :world." The cover of the Union carried a Holiness Pope Plus of the second, one of Delegate to Mexico, leney the Most Ruiz y Flares, relia. In its second states, "We believe that and necessary that forget that the His Holiness is still in States and without turning. We ask olics to reveal to him this is possible, our and filial affection. is Incarnate Word Heights, San SECURING FOR HOME MISSIONS THE EDUCATION AND WORTHY ECCLESIASTICAL STUDENTS IN 8'P. JOHN'S SEMINARY Any full Burns or Share in an locompleto Burse may be donated large or small, will be gratefully received and recorded. A Bursa is a Sum of Money Invested and Drawing Enough Board. LodginE and Training for one Seminarian. Requests for Further Information and the Benefits Shared by like wise all Donations, should be sent to the Rector, Rt. Rev. P. Gaffney, Ph.D., St. John's Seminary, Little Rock. Arkansas. ST. JOHN'S SEMINARY BURSES In memory of Mary F. COMPLETE Flaherty ______ M. P. Gengier St. Mary's Burse. Hot Springs; Msgr. Alumnus, 1984 ______ Tobin Burse. Little Rosk; Alumni Monsignor Tynin Burse, In honor of St. John, the Father MeDaid, 1926 Baptist; Bishop Byrne Bur,e; Rev In Memory of Msgr. Joachim F. Galloni Burse. Mrs. E. M. BISHOP FITZGERALD BURSE Incomplete This Burse is s memorial to th, Most Reverend Edward Fitzgerald. second Bishop of Little Rock. From a Benefactor __.$ 80.00 Pupils St. Anne's Academy__ 25.00 Anonymous, Hot Springs.__ 50.00 Anonymous. N. L. R. ..... 100.00 Msgr. Gallaghr. Mena .... 100.00 Anonymous addn. sums. recd. 261.25 Anonmous, addn. sums ree'd 430.00 For favors received ........ 2.00 Anonymous, Hot Springs -- 25,00 Anonymous ...................... 400.00 Anonymous. addn. sums __ 99.40 Mrs. J. J. Keller 5.00 Thanksgiving 1.00 Anonymous ...................... 68 Victor Koerc, Little Rock .... 100.00 Total SACRID HEART Balance Feb. I, Thanksgiving Anonymous George Reidmuller __....._.. L. P. Zurcher .... Mrs. Ed. Ash M. P. Gengler Seminary Sunday Mr. nnd Mrs. M. Bilts Victor Koers iaresch Family Mrs. A Hart Mrs. F. Margrave Relative of Student Father Haeringer Mrs. Ernest Botto, Ft. Smith 100.00 George Bergson ........... Memory of Msgr. Total $1,769.28 Holy Angels Convent ALUMNI BURSE--IN HONOR OF THE BLESSED TRINITY This Burse iS the second founds- tion made by the Priests who were ordained from St. John's Seminary. It is open to the clergy and the pea- ple in general who have the work and interest of the Seminary at heart. Previously acknowledged _..$ I01.00 Anonymous ....................... 81.48 In memory of Hugh McDevitt 25.00 Raymond Mous, Atkins ...... 2[$.00 Appreciation. Slovaktown__ 28.00 Alumnus, 1914 20.00 Alumnus, 1914 . - 20.00 Alumnus, 1916 __ 10.00 Alumnus, 1919 20.00 Alumnus. 1928 20.00 Alumnus, 1924 25.00 Alumnus, 1924 20.00 Alumnus, 1925 25.00 Alumnus, 1926 20.00 Alumnus. 1920 10.00 Alumnus, 192'/ .............. 10.00 N. N., Paragould. Ark .... 10.00 Friends of Little Flower, Dixie. Arkansas .................. 10.00 In memory of Jno. M. Murray 10.00 Jubilee Offering, Hot Springs 10.00 In memory of Mrl. H. MeMahon .............. 10.00 Memorial Crusade Unit ____ 23.81 In memory of J. M. Sehwarts 20.00 Jonesboro "J." Morrilton Memory of Beatrice Wtlllaml Memory of Sarah Gall Memory of John Galls Anonymous Total ARKANSAS COURTS DAUGHTERS OF State OF This Burse is a Arkansas State Council to • ohns Seminary in tho candidates for the Thanksgiving M. P. Gengler State Councils. 1926 State Counclie State Councils. 1928 State Councils, 1929 State Council State Counell Addn. Sums reed. ___..- State Council, 1982 State Ctuncil, State Council, 10S4 State Council. 1985 State Council. Addn. Sums Total