Donahoe's Magazine, Volume 15, No. 1, January 1886

"Oh, brother, if thou hadst not died in the prime of youth! If thou hadst not within thee the strength and energy to labor long and successfully in thy sublime vocation! If thou hadst grown gray in the service of God, I should congratulate you on this day, the day of thy espousals to Jesus Christ. I should say to thee: well done thou faithful servant, thou hast labored long and well in the service of thy maker. Thou hast gone to thy well-merited reward." Father Licking continued at some length in this strong strain of apostrophe to the name and memory of his beloved brother, and then entered into reminiscences, in which he said, "I remember well when first I met the departed. It was in the year 1870. We were then students at the preparatory college of the Redemptorist order. He was even then the picture of health, and a model for every student. Never was he known to infringe upon the slightest rule of the institute; never (and this is saying a great thing), never did he lose a single moment of time. Always at his books by day and by night, even stealing from his well-merited rest some hours in order to acquire knowledge which he might employ in after years in the service of God and for the good of souls. So well pleased were his superiors with his conduct, that they appointed him, together with the late lamented Rev. Father McGivern, overseer of the college boys in the absence of their superiors."

He received the habit of the order in 1875, with Rev. Fathers Beal and Licking. The panegyrist made most feeling allusion to the occasion, when the lamented dead took "the profession of those holy vows, those tremendous vows, those eternal vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.... Thank God, he kept those vows to the end."

Father O'Brien was next sent to the Redemptorist Theological Seminary of Ilchester, Md., to further pursue the great studies that fitted him for his calling.

"It often required an express command of his superiors to take him from his books that his body might not succumb, and the mind gain the necessary rest. So exact was he in all his ways, that we, his fellow students, could, at any hour of the day, point out the very spot where he might be found, either going through the Way of the Cross, or praying before the Blessed Sacrament, or reciting his rosary, or studying at his books. Is it a wonder, then, that God should allow him to die on a spot which had so often been the witness of so much piety and so many of his good works."

He was ordained priest in 1880, and the following February found him at the Boston Highlands in the Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. Here he administered for the first time the Sacrament of Penance; here he preached from the pulpit of his panegyrist his first sermon; here he entered upon "that career of zeal and usefulness which made his name proverbial in every family of the parish." … "He possessed a powerful and comprehensive mind, a prodigious memory, and a most fertile imagination; and, above all, a most generous spirit and tender heart. Graced besides with every form of manly beauty, strength and vigor, of a powerful frame, nothing seemed wanting to him. It might be said of him as the poet sang of the ancient hero:

"'He was a combination and a form indeed,Where God did seem to set his very seal,To give the world the picture of a man.'"

Father Licking dwelt at length upon the great extent of the work done in the parish by the beloved deceased. "Every interest in the large parish received his particular attention." All were participants of his zeal and charity. In 1883 he passed through his second novitiate after a retirement of six months, which fully equipped him for the missions. "And now his soul rejoiced, indeed, in the Lord."

"It is related," said the preacher, "of a Southern officer, that when he returned from a successful expedition, the first question he put to his general always was: 'Where is the next blow to be struck? Send me there!' So it was with the young warrior of the Cross, whose death we mourn. His zeal knew no bounds except those of obedience. Hardly had one mission been finished when he hastened to another.... North, South, East and West were witnesses of his Apostolic zeal and saintly fervor. The cold weather, the fierce storms, and still fiercer spirits of hostile sects in Newfoundland, had not terrors enough to deter him, and the hottest sun of July and August could not draw from him a single word of complaint, when engaged in arduous task of giving retreats. And though comparatively a young man, when only four years had elapsed since his ordination, his superiors trusting in his zeal, his prudence, and his wisdom, selected him, from out of many, to the important office of giving retreats to the clergy of the land." … "I see among the floral tributes one bearing the letters 'Apostolic Zeal.' It shows me that you have understood his spirit."

In the panegyrist's recital it was told that six weeks before his death he was returning from missions in Pennsylvania. He saw in New York the very Rev. Provincial, who told him that the Fathers at work on the missions at Philadelphia were becoming exhausted, and that even then the Rev. Father McGivern was on a dying bed there. Father O'Brien stood up, and stretching himself to the full height of his massive frame, he exclaimed, "Look at me! Am I not a strong man? Send me. I'll do the work for them!" "Does it not remind you of the brave general who said, 'Where is the next blow to be struck. Send me there.'" When that, his last mission, closed, the Fathers had heard thirty-five hundred confessions, and he retired to Ilchester for a cursory visit, where the joy he experienced in meeting his old Alma Mater superiors was beyond description. While there he remarked: "Father, this would be a nice, quiet and holy place to die in." That night he was attacked with the fatal malady. His limbs became racked with pain. The rheumatism reached his great heart, and he is found at five o'clock in the morning insensible. The last sacraments were administered, and at seven o'clock his noble soul took its flight from its mortal abode.

With an eloquent peroration, Rev. Father Licking closed by craving the prayers of the faithful for the departed hero of the Cross.

The pathetic musical services were rendered by the regular choir of the church, and comprised the Gregorian Requiem Mass, Miss Nellie M. McGowan, organist. The twelve pall-bearers were Colonel P. T. Hanley, Frank Ford, John J. Kennedy, M. H. Farrell, Thomas Kelly, E. J. Lynch, James McCormack, Thomas O'Leary, James B. Hand, William S. McGowan, John Reardon and Timothy McCarthy. Mount Calvary Cemetery was the place selected for the interment. In His Grace Archbishop Williams' vault the body will repose until the completion of work now in progress on a lot specially intended for Father O'Brien. It is estimated that the services at the church were attended by over twenty-five hundred people, and the funeral was likewise largely attended. Every kind attention was paid to his bereaved mother, father, and sister, who came on here from New York State.

SLEEP ON

In Memory of Father John O'Brien, C. SS. R

How short is life, a flitting cloudBefore the blast.The storm wind roars, the thunder rollsThen, peace at last.Oh! Brother, life to thee was short;A summer's mornA floweret blooming in the sun,Then, left forlorn.Thy heart was fired with zealous love,Thy courage high.But list! Thy Captain softly callsAnd thou must die.No more thou'lt lead His forces onTo victory grand;No more thou'lt join with beating heartThat glorious band.Thou'rt fallen on the battle fieldWith burnished arms.O soldier, sleep in peace, secureFrom war's alarms.O glorious life! Thy heart was freeFrom aught of earth,From glittering gold, or bauble fairOf little worth.Thy gaze was fixed on Heaven's courts,Thy heart's desireOn Calvary's top where Jesus burntIn love's fierce fire.O noble champion of the cross,Thy course is run.Like heaven's light, thy soul returnsTo heaven's Sun.O beauteous death! No worldly griefIs blustering there,The Church's voice, her tender plaintScents all the air.How sweet to die, when voice of prayerDoth rend the skies.Released from earth, the soul ascendsIn glad surprise.And what is left? The house of clayWhere dwelt the soul.That temple grand, where hymns to GodDid often roll.Ah! guard it well, its blessed wallsWill rise again.Again the soul in heaven will chantIts glad refrain.His tomb will blossom fair with flowers—A mother's tears.In memory's halls, his name will liveThrough countless years.Sleep on, brave soldier, sleepAnd take thy rest.Like John thou sleepest nowOn Jesus' breast.

Crown and Crescent

A great event was witnessed on the evening of Monday, November 23, when the new electric crown and crescent, which adorn the statue of Our Lady on the dome of the university, were lit up for the first time. There, lifted high in the air—two hundred feet above the ground—the grand, colossal figure of the Mother of God appeared amid the darkness of the night in a blaze of light, with its diadem of twelve electric stars, and under its feet the crescent moon formed of twenty-seven electric lights. Truly, it was a grand sight; and one, which, though it is becoming familiar to the inmates of Notre Dame, must ever strike the beholder with awe and reverence, realizing as it does, the most perfect expression, in a material representation, of the prophetic declaration of Holy Writ: And there appeared a great wonder in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.

It must, indeed, have been an inspiration, or a prophetic foresight of the great advance soon to be made in the domain of science, that, a few years ago, caused the venerable founder of Notre Dame to conceive the grand idea which to-day we see so perfectly realized. In 1879, when the new Notre Dame was being raised upon the ruins of the old, comparatively little progress had as yet been made in electric lighting. In particular, the great problem of the minute subdivision of the light remained unsolved. Edison had not then begun his experiments, and the incandescent light was not even dreamed of. To employ the arc light around the statue was out of the question, not only because the necessary appliances would detract from the beauty of the figure, but also on account of the daily attention which the lamps would require.

But the idea had taken possession of the mind of Very Rev. Father Sorin, and was tenaciously clung to, in spite of discouraging report through the years that followed, until, at length, the success of subsequent experiments, and the invention of incandescent electric lighting, revealed the complete practicability of carrying out the grand design of the venerable founder.

Now, twelve of the Edison incandescent lamps encircle the head of the statue, while at the base are three semi-circles of nine lamps in each, which form the crescent moon. These, together with the lights in the halls of the college, are fed with the electric current by a powerful dynamo, situated in the rear of the building. Thus the visitor to Notre Dame, as he comes up the avenue at night, or the wayfarer for miles around, can realize and revere that glorious tribute to the Queen of Heaven, the Protectress of Notre Dame, as he sees her figure surrounded with its halo of light, typifying the watchful care she constantly exercises, by night as well as by day, over the inmates of this home of religion and science, which has been specially dedicated to her honor.

Notre Dame (Ia.) Scholastic.

Four Thousand Years

Four thousand years earth waited,Four thousand years men prayed,Four thousand years the nations sighed,That their King delayed.The prophets told His coming,The saintly for Him sighed,And the Star of the Babe of BethlehemShone o'er them when they died.Their faces toward the future,They longed to hail the light,That in after centuriesWould rise on Christmas nights.But still the Saviour tarriedIn His Father's home,And the nations wept and wondered whyThe promised had not come.At last earth's prayer was granted,And God was a child of earth,And a thousand angels chantedThe lowly midnight birth.Ah! Bethlehem was granderThat hour, than Paradise;And the light of earth, that night, eclipsedThe splendors of the skies.Abram J. Ryan.

Abolishing Barmaids

A bill "for the Abolition of Barmaids" sounds like a joke from "Alice in Wonderland," or from one of Mr. Gilbert's burlesques. Nevertheless it is a serious legislative proposal now pending before the Parliament of Victoria. It is actually in print, and makes it penal for any keeper of a public house to employ women behind the counter. Of course, the advocates of this astonishing idea have their arguments. They do not go quite as far as Sir Wilfrid Lawson, who would disestablish not only barmaids, but barmen and bars; they would not shut up all dram-shops; but they would make them as dreary as possible, so as to repel impressionable young men. In Gothenburg the spirit-drinker is served by a policeman, who keeps an eagle eye upon him that he may know him again, and refuse him a second glass if he asks for it before a certain interval has expired. The Victorian reformers have a corresponding idea of diminishing the attractions of intoxication by surrounding the initial stages with repellent rather than enticing accessories. Instead of the smiling Hebes who have fascinated the golden youth of the colony, men will serve as tapsters, and without note or comment hand across the counter the required draught. The effect may be considerable, as male drinkers do undoubtedly take a delight in the pleasant looks and bright talk of the young ladies who, as the French say, "preside" at these establishments. But should not the Victorian apostles of abstinence go further? It is well to replace girls by men, and thus subdue the bar to masculine dullness; but could not the Act of Parliament go on to declare that none save plain, grim-visaged males should be tolerated as assistants? The most inveterate toper might hesitate to enter twice if he were always met by the ugly aspect of some dark, forbidding countenance. A kind of competition might take place for the posts, which might be given to the most repulsive people the Government could select. Fearful squint would be at a premium; scowls would be valued according to their blackness and depth; a ghastly grin would be desirable; while a general cadaverousness might be utilized as suggesting to drunkards the probable end of their career. The gods of Olympus laughed loudly when the swart, ungainly Vulcan for once replaced Hebe as their cup-bearer; but it would be no joke for the young idlers of Melbourne to find stern, grim men frowning over the counters where once they were received with "nods and becks and wreathed smiles."

Christianity in China

The arrangement which the Pope has made with the Emperor of China promises to be productive of the happiest results, and to open the Flowery Kingdom fully to the spread of the gospel. For many years the French assumed the position of protectors of Christian missionaries in barbarous countries. The first expedition to Annam was avowedly sent to put an end to the murders of missionaries and converts so frequent in that country; and for a time it did serve to put a check on the ferocity of government and people. In the treaty of Tienstin it was stipulated that the French Government should have the right to protect missionaries in China. For a time that seemed to work well. But the many complaints made through the French consuls, and the punishments inflicted on Mandarins at their demand, served to irritate the Mandarins and the populace. The indiscretion of some French missionaries, who interposed to protect converts not always deserving of protection, and who flaunted the flag of France in the faces of the Mandarins in their own courts, increased the irritation. Some of the missionaries boasted also in letters, which the Chinese saw when published, of the respect for France which they instilled into their converts. The consequence was, that, although the missionaries are from all nations, the Chinese learned to regard them as French; and when the French made the late war on China, to regard all Chinese Christians as traitors. Formerly the government persecuted the Christians. Latterly Chinese mobs massacred the Christians and destroyed their churches, convents, schools, etc., and the French scarcely made an effort to protect them even in Tonquin. The Holy Father, in the letter which we published some time ago, assured the Emperor that the missionaries who are of all nations are of no politics and desire only to preach the Christian religion, and begged the Emperor to protect them. It has now been arranged that the Pope shall hereafter be represented by a Legate at Pekin to whom the rank, etc., of an ambassador will be given, and who will receive any complaints the missionaries may have to make and will seek redress for them. Thus the interests of religion will, in the minds of the Chinese, be entirely dissociated from the interests of all foreign countries, and the feelings which now prevail will subside in time. The French Government infidel, though it is, will not like, it is thought, to be thus put aside; but if the missionaries cease to appeal to its agents it will be powerless.

"Faro's Daughters."

There was plenty of gambling in London at the end of the last century, and ladies took a prominent part in it. Faro was then a favorite game, and ladies who were in the habit of keeping a bank used to be called "Faro's Daughters." Of these, Lady Archer and Lady Buckinghamshire were the most notorious, and Mrs. Sturt, Mrs. Hobart, and Mrs. Concannon were also noted gamblers. The usual method was for some great lady to give an entertainment at which faro was played, when the lady who took the bank gave her £25 towards the expenses. St. James's Square was the scene of many of these revels. The Times of April 2, 1794, stated that "one of the Faro Banks in St. James's Square lost £7000 last year by bad debts." The same number tells us that "Lady Buckinghamshire, Mrs. Sturt, and Mrs. Concannon alternately divide the beau-monde at their respective houses. Instead of having two different hot suppers, at one and three in the morning, the Faro Banks will now scarcely afford bread and cheese and porter." The lady gamblers were considerably alarmed at certain hints they received, that they would be prosecuted; and in 1796 the Times said, "We state it as a fact, within our own knowledge, that two ladies of fashion, who keep open houses for gaming at the West End of the Town, have lately paid large douceurs to ward off the hand of justice." But in the following year Lady Buckinghamshire, Lady Elizabeth Lutterell, and Mrs. Sturt were each fined £50 for playing faro at the house of the first named. The evidence proved that the "defendants had gaming parties at their different houses by rotation," and that they played until four or five in the morning. The fines seemed light enough, for an extract from the Times in the same year says:—"The expense of entertainments at the Gaming House of the highest class, in St. James's Square, during the eight months of last season, has been said to exceed 6,000 guineas! What must be the profits to afford such a profusion?" In modern times backgammon is not usually associated with very desperate gambling; but a captain in the guards is said to have lost thirteen thousand guineas at that game at one sitting in 1796. He revenged himself, however, by winning forty-five thousand guineas at billiards in a single night shortly afterwards.—Saturday Review.

Never use water that has stood in a lead pipe over night. Not less than a wooden bucketful should be allowed to run.

Juvenile Department

A CHILD'S DAY

When I was a little childIt was always golden weather.My days stretched out so longFrom rise to set of sun,I sang and danced and smiled—My light heart like a feather—From morn to even-song;But the child's days are done.I used to wake with the birds—The little birds wake early,For the sunshine leaps and playsOn the mother's head and wing;And the clouds were white as curds;The apple trees stood pearly;I always think of the child's daysAs one unending spring.I knew where all flowers grew.I used to lie in the meadowEre reaping-time and mowing-timeAnd carting home the hay.And, oh, the skies were blue!Oh, drifting light and shadow!It was another time and clime—The little child's sweet day.And in the long days waningThe skies grew rose and amberAnd palest green and gold,With a moon's white flame.And if came wind and raining,Gray hours I don't remember;Nor how the warm year waxed cold,And deathly autumn came.Only of that young timeThe bright things I remember:How orchard bows were laden red,And blackberries so braveCame ere the frost and rime—Ere the dreary, dark November,With dripping black boughs overhead,And dead leaves on a grave.The years have come and gone,And brought me many a pleasure,And many a gift and gainFrom near and from afar,And dear work gladly done,And dear love without measure,And sunshine after rain,And in the night a star.The years have come and gone,And one hath brought me sorrow;Yet I shall sing to ease my painFor the hours I must stay.They are passing one by one,And I wait with hope the morrow;But indeed I am not fainOf a long, long day.It is well for a little childWhose heart is blithe and merryTo find too short its golden day—Long morn and afternoon.So many flowers grow wild,And many a fruit and berry:Long day, too short for work and play,—The night comes too soon.It was well for that little child;But its day is gone forever,And a wounded heart will acheIn the sunlight gold and gay.Oh, the night is cool and mildTo all things that smart with fever!The older heart had time to breakIn the little child's long day.Katharine Tynan, in Merry England.

When little Willie L. first heard the braying of a mule in the South, he was greatly frightened; but, after thinking a minute, he smiled at his fear, saying, "Mamma, just hear that poor horse with the whooping-cough!"

A Little grammar is a dangerous thing: "Johnny, be a good boy, and I will take you to the circus next year."—"Take me now, pa; the circus is in the present tents."

THE CHRISTMAS TURKEY

Grandfather Patrick lived a long time ago; in the days when all the grandfathers wore white wigs with little tails sticking out behind.

One day he went into the back yard where an old Turkey Gobbler lived, and said to him:

"Mr. Turkey Gobbler: Next week comes Christmas and I want you to come into the house with me, and help us have a good time. You are such a fine, fat fowl, I am sure you will be just the one we want."

Mr. Turkey Gobbler was a vain bird, and when he heard Grandfather Patrick say this, he spread out his tail, stuck up his feathers, and stretched his wings down to the ground. Then he said: "Yes, I know I am a fine fowl, and I want to get away from this low, mean yard, into the grand house, among grand people, where I think I belong."

"And so you shall," said Grandfather Patrick. "You shall leave this cold yard and come in to the stove where it is warm. You shall come to the table with us all on Christmas Day. You shall be at the head of the table, and the boys and girls will be glad to see you, and they will say how fat you are, and how good you are, and how they wish they could have you at the table every day."

Mr. Turkey Gobbler was so pleased at all this that he went into the house with Grandfather Patrick and Aunt Bridget.

And all the little chickens looked on, and they said to each other: "Why cannot we go into the grand house, and come to the table the same as Mr. Turkey Gobbler? We are just as fine as he."

"Be patient," said Grandfather Patrick; "your time will come."

THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING

"Dear Santa Claus," wrotelittle Will in letters trulyshocking, "I's been a goodboy, so please fill a heapenup this stocking. I wanta drum to make pa sickand drive my mamma cra-zy. I want a doggie I cankick so he will not getlazy. I want a powdergun to shoot right at mysister Annie, and a bigtrumpet I can toot justawful loud at granny. Iwant a dreffle big falseface to scare in fits our ba-by. I want a pony I canrace around the parlor,maybe. I want a littlehatchet, too, so I can dosome chopping upon ourgrand piano new, whenmamma goes a-shopping.I want a nice hard rub-ber ball to smash allinto flinders, thegreat big mirrorin the hall an'lots an' lots ofwinders. An'candy that'llmake mesick, so maall night willhold me an'make pa get thedoctor quick an'never try to scoldme. An' Santa Claus,if pa says I'm naughtyit's a story. Jus' sayif she whips me I'lldie an' surely go toglory."