Chapter 7

their time in command. And there were those whose age and infirmities would not permit them to come out at an earlier hour; feeling thankful to know that He, the wonderful and humble Jesus, would be there to receive their homage, and dispense His blessings to their waiting hearts. Her old feelings would have triumphed, had she attended the earlier masses, when the artisan, the toil-worn, the laborer, with his habiliments covered with the moil and toil of earth; the tattered poor, who were ashamed to come out into the full light of day; the halt, the cripple, and the blind, led by little ones; the widow and orphan, the bereaved, who seek to hide their anguish from all eyes but His who can heal it; the dark children of Ethiopia, the slave, the outcast, had congregated there; all equal in HIS eyes, as they will be in the valley of Jehosaphat when the judgment is, to receive the divine manna and the vital heavenliness which His presence afforded; when, like pilgrims refreshed by pure water in the desert, they went forth to encounter again the heat, the simoon, the thirst and weariness of the way, but with renewed courage.

"Shall we go in to see Father Fabian a moment?" said May, after mass.

"No, not now, May. I think, perhaps I shall go to confession soon; and I do not wish to know him, or be known to him," she replied, shrinking back.

"Let it be soon, very soon, dearest Helen!" said May, pressing her hand.

"Perhaps," she answered, vaguely.

"Now, dear Helen, can you find your way back? I have to go a little way on business," said May, when they came within two squares of home.

"Oh, yes; but really, you seem to have a great many mysterious visits on hand!" observed Helen, rather sharply.

"You shall come with me soon, if you wish to;" replied May. Then they separated; Helen dissatisfied, and a little angry, and May rejoicing like a miser who goes to visit his treasure. Full of happy thoughts, she went on until she came to old Mabel's cottage, at the door of which stood a small, close carriage. The door was ajar, and she went in. There were two ladies in silks, velvets, and plumes, standing before Aunt Mabel, and both were speaking in an excited tone.

"A Roman Catholic!" they exclaimed.

"Yes, misses," was the meek reply.

"Why, don't you know you peril your eternal salvation, by becoming a papist?"

"No, misses, I don't know it, neither does you. I been living on and on, and never was a professor, and I'm gwine to do jest what is right at the 'leventh hour. It's a 'ligion that's older than all, and was know'd and practised afore any of yourn was ever thought on."

"Did you ever hear such preposterous ignorance!" exclaimed one; "why, old aunty, _who_ has been tampering with you?"

"Nobody, honey, only them that's got a 'ligion that larns them to give bread to the hungry, warm clothes to the freezing, and fire to keep life in their bodies; and tells the poor ole nigger that God loves her soul as well as he do buckra folks. So I'm gwine to be one," replied old Mabel, striking her stick on the hearth.

"You are a poor, benighted creature, and I hope God will pity you on the score of your ignorance," said one of the well-meaning ladies.

"I hope he will, misses, I hope he will," she said, humbly.

"We had some things for you; but, of course, we cannot leave them now; the papists must take care of their own poor--_we_ have enough of our own," observed one.

"Thank'ee, misses."

"Downright impudence!" they muttered, flouncing out to their carriage, without seeing May, who had taken refuge behind the bed, which was hung round with some faded patchwork, to keep out air.

"And so you're bearing testimony for Christ already, Aunt Mabel," said May, coming towards her with outstretched hands.

"Bless your dear face, honey, it seems best for me. I ben so long without sarving God, that I shall 'quire all the help I can get in this world and the next. Them ladies, honey, is well-meaning, I reckon. They 'tended me a little while last winter, but they wanted to send me out yonder--I wouldn't go; I'm mighty poor and helpless, Miss May, and was friendless then, but I couldn't go thar!"

"Where, Aunt Mabel?"

"To the poor-house, my child. But, honey, arter you went away yesterday, I all at once remembered a Catholic woman--she was a half-Indian, half-nigger, from the West Indies--that I used to do a good turn for now and then. She was dying with consumption, and she used to talk to me about the saints in glory praying for us, the blessed mother of Jesus Christ, and purgatory, in her broken lingo, till I b'lieved every word she said. I was trying to recollect, arter you left me, and it all come pat into my head at once."

"These are consoling, helpful, and holy doctrines, Aunt Mabel; but tell me if you are satisfied that the Roman Catholic Church is the true Church of God?" said May, smoothing her withered hand.

"I can't 'splain myself, honey; but thar's something in here that tells me _it is_," said the simple old creature, laying her hand on her breast.

"And that _something_ is a great and glorious gift, Aunt Mabel--the gift of FAITH. But hear what our dear Lord said, before he ascended to his Father; here is your old Protestant Bible, which your good mistress used to read to you so long ago. I will find it in this," said May, taking down the shattered old copy of the Scriptures from its shelf. "First of all, our Lord established his Church on earth. It was the object of his divine mission. Then he endowed his apostles with heavenly gifts and authority to do even as he had done; and declared that his Church was 'founded on a rock, against which the gates of hell should never prevail.'"

"And his word and his promise never fail, honey, because he is the Lord God," said the old woman.

"No, never, never fail," said May, fervently; "and now listen. Here He, Infinite Truth, tells us himself _why_ this Church can never be overcome, or err, or do wrong: 'I will pray the Father!' said Jesus Christ to his disciples, 'and he will send you another comforter, that he may abide with you for ever--_even_ the SPIRIT OF TRUTH;' and again he says: 'When He, the Spirit of Truth, is come, he will guide you in all truth.' And this spirit was the Holy Ghost--the Spirit of God! Oh, Aunt Mabel, only think! the Spirit of the Eternal God--promised not only to the disciples, but to the _Church for ever_! Do you understand me?"

"I understand, honey; and it's the same now it was then, and will be for ever. Oh, no, Satan, _you_ can't break up your master's inheritance! You may worrit His sheep, and steal off His stray lambs now and then, but, bless God, you'll get no furder, 'cause the Master is thar hisself. Oh, Miss May, lead me in, quick as you please!" cried the old woman, while tears streamed over her face.

"Dear Aunt Mabel, your wish will soon be gratified. I will see Father Fabian to-morrow morning, after mass, and he will come to visit and instruct you in many things, which it is necessary for you to understand. Were you ever baptized?"

"No, honey; my mother was a Baptist, and they don't baptize babies; and after I growed up, I didn't like 'em, somehow, and so it's never been done."

"In this case, I am glad it was not done," said May; "for now, when, after due preparation, you receive holy baptism, your soul will be washed white and stainless as that of a Christian babe. You will have a clean and beautiful banqueting room to receive the Lord Jesus when he comes to you, under the sacramental veil; and, being near the end of your pilgrimage, it is not likely that it will be again defiled by sin. Oh, how happy is the thought of going up through faith and repentance, without a stain, into the presence of our divine Lord!"

"_Me_, Miss May! _all_ that for an old crippled nigger like me?" exclaimed Aunt Mabel, wiping her eyes.

"Yes, all that, and more--ten thousand times more. But now, Aunt Mabel, you must begin to examine carefully your past life; to remember the sins which have blotted it, and beg of Almighty God the grace of true repentance, sincere, humble repentance, that you may make a good general confession. And here," continued May, taking off her own medal, and hanging it around Aunt Mabel's neck, "say the little prayer on this a hundred times a day, if you can remember it: '_Oh, Mary, conceived without sin, pity me, a poor sinner, who have recourse to thee_.' It is a medal of our Blessed Lady, who will obtain from her divine Son, for you, all that you may need. Can you say the prayer?"

"Oh, Mary, conceived without sin, pity me, a poor sinner, who have recourse to thee," repeated the old woman.

"Say it over and over again, until you know it perfectly," said May.

"I got it in here, honey, fast," replied the old woman, pointing to her heart.

"That is right. Now, can I do any thing for you?"

"No, my misses, only call my grandchild as you go 'long. I let her go out to have a run in the sunshine this morning."

"I will send her to you; and to-morrow I think you will see Father Fabian," said May, before she closed the door. And she went away, wrapped as with a royal mantle, _in the blessings of the poor_.