Anonymous.
* * * *
*
Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition.
Tell of the great affection of parents for their children.
Even in the poorest and most numerous families, what
parent could think of parting with a child for any
sum of money?
Tell about the letter John and his wife received from
a rich man without children who wished to adopt one
of their seven. Tell about the offer the rich
man made. What a great temptation this was!
The parents considered the offer, looked into each
other’s faces and asked, “Which shall
it be?” Not the baby. Why? Not the
two youngest boys. Why? Not the poor helpless
little cripple. Why? Not the sweet child,
Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son.
Why? Not, for worlds, the oldest boy. Why?
Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.
* * * *
*
68
Dor’o thy
in her’it ance
Cap pa do’ ci a
ob’ sti na cy
The oph’ i lus
ex e cu’ tion ers
The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy
and St. Cecilia, are familiar to us all; and to many
of us, no doubt, their histories are well known also.
Young as they were, they despised alike the pleasures
and the flatteries of the world. They chose God
alone as their portion and inheritance; and He has
highly exalted them, and placed their names amongst
those glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored
in the holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints.
She was born in the city of Caesarea, and was descended
of a rich and noble family. While the last of
the ten terrible persecutions, which for three hundred
years steeped the Church in the blood of martyrs,
was raging, Dorothy embraced the faith of Christ,
and, in consequence, was seized and carried before
the Roman Prefect of the city.
She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length,
condemned to death. When the executioners were
preparing to behead her, the Prefect said, “Now,
at least, confess your folly, and pray to the immortal
gods for pardon.”
“I pray,” replied the martyr, “that
the God of heaven and earth may pardon and have mercy
on you; and I will also pray when I reach the land
whither I am going.”
“Of what land do you speak?” asked the
judge, who, like most of the pagans, had very little
notion of another world.
“I speak of that land where Christ, the Son
of God, dwells with his saints,” replied St.
Dorothy. “There is neither night nor sorrow;
there is the river of life, and the brightness
of eternal glory; and there is a paradise of
all delight, and flowers that shall never fade.”
“I pray you, then,” said a young man,
named Theophilus, who was listening to her words with
pity mingled with wonder, “if these things be
so, to send me some of those flowers, when you shall
have reached the land you speak of.”
