Bolax, Imp or Angel-Which?

Amy's Company.

"Come children," said Mrs. Allen, "Mamma wants to take you for a nice walk."

"Oh, please, dear Mamma, wait awhile! Bolax and I have company!" This from little Amy, Bo's sister.

Mrs. Allen looked around the room, and saw several chairs placed before the fire; but seeing no visitors, was about to sit in the large arm chair.

"Oh, dear Mamma," said Amy, "please do not take that chair! That's for poor old St. Joseph; he will be here presently."

Turning toward the chair nearest the fire, the child bowed down to the floor, saying: "Little Jesus I love you! When will St. Joseph be here?"

Then bowing before the next chair: "Blessed Mother, are you comfortable? Here is a footstool."

Mrs. Allen went into the hall, and was about to close the door, when Bolax called out: "Oh, Ma dear, please don't shut the door. Here comes St. Joseph and five beautiful angels."

Mrs. Allen was rather startled at the positive manner in which this was said, and unconsciously stepped aside, as if really to make way for the celestial visitors. Then leaving the children to amuse themselves, she listened to them from an adjoining room. This is what she heard:

Amy-Dear St. Joseph please sit down; blessed angels, I am sorry that I haven't enough chairs, but you can rest on your beautiful wings.

Bolax-Little Jesus, I'm so glad you've come. Mamma says you are very powerful, even if you are so little. I want to ask you lots of things. Do you see these round pieces of tin? Well, won't you please change them all into dollars, so we can have money for the poor, and sister Amy won't be crying in the street when she has no money to give all the blind and the lame people we meet. And dear Jesus, let me whisper-I want a gun.

Amy-Dear Blessed Mother please make poor Miss Ogden well. I heard her tell my Mamma she was afraid to die; and she is very sick. She has such a sad face, and she looks mis'able.

Bolax-Sister, won't you ask lots of things for me? I'm afraid to ask 'cause I was naughty this morning. I dyed pussy's hair with Papa's red ink.

Amy-No, I won't ask any more favors; Mamma says we must be thankful for all we get, so let us sing a hymn of thanks.

Here Papa came upstairs calling for his babies. Mrs. Allen not wishing to disturb the children, beckoned him into her room, hoping he would listen to the innocent prattle of his little ones. All unconscious of being observed, the children continued to entertain their heavenly guests.

Mr. Allen not being a Catholic, was more shocked than edified at what he thought the hallucination of the children, and spoke rather sternly to his wife. "All this nonsense comes from your constant talk on subjects beyond the comprehension of children. Amy is an emotional child; she will become a dreamer, a spiritualist; it will affect her nervous system and you will have yourself to blame.

"As for Bolax, I have no fear for him. He'll never be too pious. I'm willing to--" Here they were startled by a most unearthly yell, and Master Bo rushed into the room, saying that Amy would not let him play with her.

"Why won't she?" asked Papa.

"Oh, because I upset St. Joseph; I wanted to take the chairs for a train of cars."

Papa broke into a fit of laughter, and said: "Bo, Bo, you're the funniest youngster I ever heard of."

Poor Little Amy came into the room, looking as if ready to cry, telling her mother she would never again have that boy when her company came. "Just think, dear Ma, Bo said he liked monkeys better than angels."

The serious face of the little girl caused her mother to wonder if the child really saw the holy spirits.

Mrs. Allen consoled her little daughter, telling her Bo would be more thoughtful and better behaved when he should be a few years older.

"Come now," said she, "we will go to see poor little Tommie Hoden. I am sure from the appearance of the boy, the family must be in very great distress."

It was a beautiful day. The hyacinths were in bloom, and there were daffodils, tulips, and forget-me-nots, almost ready to open; the cherry trees were white with blossoms, and the apple trees covered with buds. The glad beautiful spring had fully come with its lovely treasures and everything seemed delighting in the sweet air and sunshine.

Miss Beldon, a neighbor, was digging her flower-beds, and asked where they were going.

"I want to visit that poor little fellow, Tommy Hoden, who comes here so often," said Mrs. Allen.

"You're not going to Hoden's," cried Miss Beldon; "why the father is an awful man!"

"So much the more need of helping him, and that poor neglected boy of his," answered Mrs. Allen. "Can you tell me exactly where they live?"

"Yes, in a horrid old hut, near Duff Mills. You can't miss it, for it is the meanest of all those tumble-down shanties. I do wish you wouldn't go, it won't do any good."

"Our Lord will take care of that," said Mrs. Allen. "I am only going to do the part of the work He assigns me, and take food to the hungry."

"Well," said Miss Beldon, "I wouldn't go for fifty dollars. The man is never sober, and he won't like to be interfered with. I shouldn't wonder if he would shoot at you."

Mrs. Allen laughed, and said anything so tragic was not likely to happen, and then went to get a basket of food to take to Tommy Hoden.

They set forth on their walk, Bo holding fast to his mother's hand while Amy loitered on the way, gathering wild flowers. "Do you really, truly think Tom's father would shoot at us?" asked Bo.

"No, indeed, dear. I hope you are not afraid."

"Well-no-dear Ma, not very afraid;" and the little fellow drew a deep sigh; "only I-I-hope he won't shoot you, dear Ma."

"Well I am afraid!" said Amy, in a somewhat shamefaced manner.

"Please, Ma dear, let me go back and I will kneel before our Blessed Lady's picture and pray for the poor man all the time you are away."

"That is very sweet of you, dear. Now Bo, perhaps you had better return with Amy. I can go alone."

"No; no; I won't go back. I want to take care of my own dear Mamma. I'm not a bit afraid now."

"Well, dear," said Mrs. Allen, "I will tell you what I want to do for Tom and his father. I will try to get Tom to go to school every day and to catechism class on Sundays. I think that would make a better boy of him. Then I hope to persuade his father to sign the temperance pledge and go to work."

Bolax understood what his mother meant by this, for Mrs. Allen made a constant companion of the child; and although only five, she taught him to recite a piece on Temperance.

The walk to the mills was very pleasant, with the exception of about half a mile of the distance, just as the road turned off from the village; here were a number of wretched old buildings, occupied by very poor and, for the most part, very wicked people.

Somewhat removed from the others stood a hovel more dilapidated, if possible, than the rest. Towards this Mrs. Allen, still holding Bolax by the hand, bent her steps, and gently rapped at the door.

No one answered, but something that sounded like the growl of a beast proceeded from within. After repeating the rap twice or three times, she pushed the door wider open and walked in. The room upon which it opened was small and low, and lighted by a single window, over which hung a thick network of spider webs; the dingy walls were festooned in like manner; the clay floor was so filthy, that, for a moment, Mrs. Allen shrunk from stepping upon it.

In a corner of the wretched room sat Tom's father, smoking an old pipe. He was a rough, bad-looking man with shaggy hair hanging over his face and bleared eyes that glared at his visitors with no gentle expression.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Your little boy sometimes comes to our place," answered Mrs. Allen, "so I thought I would come to see him, and bring him some cakes; children are so fond of sweets."

"Very kind of you, I'm sure, ma'am, though I don't know why you should take the trouble," and the glare of his eyes softened a little; "you're the first woman that's crossed that ere threshold since Molly was carried out. I ha'n't got no chair."

"Oh, never mind. I did not come to make a long call," said Mrs. Allen.

The lady looked around the wretched room in vain, for a shelf or table on which to deposit the contents of her basket. At last she saw a closet, and while placing the articles of food in it, talked to old Hoden as if he had been the most respectable man in the county.

"Is Tom at home, Mr. Hoden?"

"What d'ye want of him? I never know where he is."

"I heard you ought to be a Catholic," continued Mrs. Allen, "and I thought you would not object to Tom's coming to my catechism class on Sunday."

"He ain't got no clothes fit to go; besides I reckon it wouldn't do no good to send him, for he ain't never seen the inside of a church."

"Well, Mr. Hoden, couldn't you come yourself?"

"It is me, ma'am? I haven't been near a church or priest for twenty-five years. Poor Molly tried to make me go, but she gave it up as a bad job. You may try your hand on Tom for all I care."

"I am much obliged to you for giving me leave to try," said Mrs. Allen, smiling; "I should not have asked Tom to come without your permission, Mr. Hoden. Good-bye, sir."

The poor wretch seemed dazed, and did not reply to the lady's polite leave-taking.

After she was gone, he said to himself "I wonder what that one is up to. I never heard such smooth talk in my life. Well it do make me feel good to be spoke to like I were a gentleman. I'd give a good bit to know who sent her here, and why she come."

Ah, poor soul, it was the charity of Jesus Christ that prompted the lady to go to you; and many a fervent prayer she and her children will say for your conversion.

"Mamma," said Bolax, on the way home, "that man is not so dreadful bad."

"Why do you think that, dear?"

"Because I saw a picture of the Sacred Heart pasted on the wall inside the closet; it is all over grease and flyspecks, but you know you told me Jesus gave a blessing to any house that had a picture of His Sacred Heart in it."

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