The Saint of the Seal of Silence, his star-crowned status stand
By bridge and tower and rustic bower, thro' all Bohemia's land;
With hand upraised in benison, he guardeth Moidau's tide
WHILE FINGER TIP ON REVERENT LIP, A SERAPH BENDS BESIDE
Whence is his name?-the silent one, and why that starry crown?
And too, wherefore, with Emperor and warrior of renown
Is set his silvern shrine to-day?-where riseth grey and vague
Those gothic heights of great St. Veits, the boast of storied Prague
Ah never sceptred emperor nor sworded warrior won
A braver fight than his for right-Bohemia's martyred son.

Cowering they stand. the dastard band, who work a tyrant's will.
Gory, begrimed, a tottering form they drive or lead between-
Ah, silent Saint! not words can paint'thy pure life's closing scene.
With cruel thongs the tortured limbs again are roughly bound,
WHILE FINGER TIPS ON REVERENT LIPS, GOD'S ANGELS CLUSTER ROUND!
Poised helpless on the parapet-"Now Priest wilt thou reveal?"

Oh, glorious fate! Inviolate, for aye the mystic seal!
Silent as when in torture hall the rack and lash were plied,

So, silent yet, from parapet, swift hurtling to the tide.
The murderers flee and but the gaze of seraphim looks down

A simple priest of Prague was he, but oft before him bent
With humblest mien, Bohemia's queen-a lowly penitent.
Upon her brow from tenderest years shone regal diadem.
Tis history yet, how thickly set with thorn beneath the gem;
And this the secret, Wenceslaus, her evil spouse would wrest,
If
pang and pain and spirit strain, his gentle queen confessed.
So, Canon John, her confessor, he bade his minions bring-
The man must bow obedient now as subject to his king.
Meekly he came,'Twas treading still in paths his Master trod,
"To Caesar yet is Caesar's debt, for GOD the dues of GOD!"
His fealty Wenceslaus was thine, his arm would fend thy throne;
But, break the seal! betray, reveal thoughts meant for GOD alone!
Nay! welcome rack and galling chain! 'twere bliss for this to die!
WITH FINGER TIP ON REVERENT LIP HIS ANGEL HOVERED NIGH!
In vain the rack, in vain the lash, tho' royal eyes looked on-
"Dost still defy? Then traitor die!" The king's behest was done!
On citadel and tower and fort falls starlight chill and clear,
Thro' pine and larch the winds of March wail o'er the hill tops near;
As by the stately bridge of Prague that spans the Moldau still,

On Moldau's 'tream, where sudden gleam in form of royal crown,
Five gleaming stars that fade not when, above the troubled river
Breaks troubled day. The starbeams stay to gleam and glance and quiver,
Till Moldau yields the honored dead to fill an honored tomb-
How calm he sleeps, while wildly weeps an Empress for his doom!
And wildly calls an Emperor-King-"Away, to horse, to horse,"-
Nay, never steed of rarest breed, outdistanced grim remorse!
From lordly Prague to Carlstein may king and courtiers speed,
Vain is their quest of earthly rest for him who willed the deed;
Ever that voice is in his ear-on foreign-native sod

"To Caesar yet is Caesar's debt, for GOD the dues of God!"
Brave Canon John of Nepomuck, star-crowned his statues stand
By bridge and tower and rustic bower thro' all Bohemia's land:
Saint of the Seal of Silence! how oft hath stricken heart

To thee appealed-that thou wouldst shield and parry slander's dart
When fierce its sting as Wencel's lash, then silent one extend
Aid of thy prayer, that we may bear in patience to the end!
That we may see with spirit gaze, thro' suffering grown more clear,
STILL FINGER TIP ON SEALED LIP, OUR GUARDIAN ANGELS NEAR.

MARGARET M. HALVEY.

HE trials

and dangers which the great Apostle St. Paul had to undergo on his extended missionary travels and in his missionary work were exceedingly numerous. He himself speaks of hardships, prisons, excessive abuse, frequent perils of death. of shipwrecks, dangers on rivers, dangers from highwaymen, dangers

from false companions, from his own people and the heathen, perils in the desert, or misery, frequent sleeplessness, of hunger and thirst, of frequent fasting, of exposure to cold and heat, and besides all these external troubles, of the daily pressure in the care of all parishes.

The life which the missionaries of our own time lead amongst the heathen is also not devoid of hardships and perils, and more than one of our missionaries can tell of ill-treatment, prisons, of dangers from highwaymen, dangers from the heathens, of hunger and thirst-and all of these are hardships of the daily pressure of work in looking after their parishes-and one of them can say with St. Paul, that he has been at the bottom of the ocean. He describes his remarkable experience and his thrilling rescue in a letter to his brother, as follows: "ADJIDO, June 23, 1896.

"Dear Brother Gregory:"This morning I mailed a postal card to you with

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the information that upon the advice of the doctor I was about to start on a sea trip. I wrote that card at half-past eight in the morning, fifteen minutes later I came very near entering upon that journey from which there is no return.

"You know that the 23d of June being the day on which our dear father died is a memorable day for us; today it came very near to being the day of my death, too, only that the dear Lord, through the intercession granted me, renewed life.

"On account of the fevers which attacked me after my arrival here my health has been very poor for the last few weeks; besides that I have an organic disease which has exhausted my strength completely. I could hardly stand on my feet and had to hold on to the altar when celebrating mass. After everything to better the condition of my health had been tried, but without success, our Superior, Father Dier, insisted on my taking a trip on the Hamburg steamer which was then expected. The doctor strongly recommended this trip. and said it would be of considerable benefit to me. Three weeks would be sufficient. I had my scruples, but I set them aside when I found it was the Superior's express wish that I should go.

"He also saw to it that I was provided with everything necessary for the celebrating of mass board ship.

on

"After I had got everything together which I thought I should need on board ship-Brother Jacobus assisted me greatly; he had made great progress in acquiring the language of the country and has been of excellent service to the missionaries -I departed after holy mass, about 8 o'clock, and crossed the lake to Little-Papo. Father Dier and several of his colored boys accompanied me, among them Remiguis, Leo and Matthew.

"It had been arranged that one of the postoffice officials would accompany me to the steamer. This gentleman had only been a few weeks here, but even as early as the second day after his arrival he made the remark to me, 'I would much rather go home on this same steamer.' When I went to call for him they told me that he had already gone. After mailing a few letters and parcels I went to work to find a boat to take me over to the steamer. The agents of the firm of Victor lent me theirs, and also let me have their Kru boys. These are fellows from the Kru-coast and are employed around here as rowers of great skill. While the boat was being carried to the water a great crowd of people were gathering, because the passage of a boat with passengers through the surf is always considered an interesting sight. On such an occasion man is at war with the elements, which

threaten him with destruction, and he has to use his whole power and dexterity to conquer them. As soon as the boat touched the water, we hurried into it, myself and a little altar boy, who accompanied

me.

"One more 'farewell' on my part and a happy journey' from my friends and the boat met the first wave. With powerful arms the rowers push the boat forward on to the snow-white crest of the next wave, jump themselves into it and immediately commence their accustomed work, with their yard-long oars. (They are staff-like and are formed at the ends like the foot of a goose). The steersman, a powerful, fearless body, stands in the stern on a small plank. I am seated directly in front of him, on my left is the boy, and my baggage in front of me. There are five black-skinned rowers on each side of the boat, which is about 20 feet long' and 6 feet wide.

"For the better understanding of the following, I must mention that there is no proper harbor or inlet here in Papo. The steamers are obliged to anchor at a considerable distance from the land and communication between land and the steamer is carried on by small boats. If the sea were as calm as a river there would be no fear of danger, but just at this part of the African coast, it is particularly boisterous, especially during the summer months and even when it is not stirred by a storm. The water runs always toward the land as if it wanted to devour it. When the waves are far out on the horizon, they are low and very long and not at all dangerous to any vessel, but the nearer they approach the land, the narrower, higher and more rapid they become, until at a short distance from the beach itself, they topple over with a loud noise and dissolve into white foam, only to make room for another perhaps higher one. I have counted that on an average of three times every minute the crest of a wave appears, or as they say here, a breaker is formed. These breakers do not always occur at the same place, but are continually changing, according to whether it is high tide or low tide and according to what are the conditions. The rowers, therefore, and above all, the negro at the helm, must use all their skill to steer the boat clear of the place where these breakers form and he must take into careful consideration all circumstances which I have mentioned above. He must also know the capability of his people and be familiar with the tricks of the seas.

"You will understand that under the circumstances one does not like to trust oneself to everybody, and not everybody can act as helmsman. A negro to whom a boat with a European passenger has been entrusted, thinks a great deal of himself, about as much as an engineer might think of himself, who is in charge of a limited express. When I reached the shore my first question was whether the sea was calm or in a dangerous mood. Of course,

they answered that the sea was perfectly calm, and to prove their assertion, they said that the other passengers had already crossed without meeting with any mishap. After I had entered the boat and we had started, I began to think differently; the waves that came towards us did not seem quite so harmless. But I had to make the trip. Several large waves had broken before they reached us and others had been avoided by the careful manipulations of the steersman and the united strength of the rowers. We were about half way; I had not noticed that the boat was already half filled with water, my eyes were fixed upon the nearest breaker and the nearest approaching wave. Only that one more, which is just approaching in the distance, and we are out of danger.

"The steersman recognizes better than I do the critical position in which the boat is at this moment. His orders are short and sharp and the rowers obey him to the letter. Now they row, now they stop, now they back a little, now they pass the boat forward, as fast as possible. All for the purpose of getting beyond the place where the wave is going to break. The wave comes nearer and nearer ; thirteen pairs of eyes were fixedly directed toward it. Oh, it is tremendous; if we can only get over it! is my one idea. Here it comes, more than 1000 feet long. Like a giant serpent it wriggles towards our boat. 'Kaba, Kaba' (Quick, Quick), let us get over it, is the command; push on, quick, quick! Twenty-two arms work to fight death itself. The helmsman shouts, shrilly sounds the whistle he has hanging around his neck; like a danger signal it sounds. 'Kaba, Kaba,' he calls once more, when only a few feet from the point of danger. Kaba! It is too late, we have made a miscalculation; everybody saves himself as best he can! Everybody jumps out of the boat. Only one remained with me: in the excitement and terrible strain, I had jumped up from my seat, holding on to it with my left hand. The wave towers high above us, oh, so high! and with a thunderous noise, the gigantic wave breaks over the boat as over a nutshell. I am at the portal of death-we are far out on the ocean; the boat is full of water and I am entirely alone, the boy was no longer at my side. The last negro indicates to me by movements that we are lost and jumps out and the next moment another wave strikes the boat and capsizes it. I don't know howa second later I find myself at the bottom of the sea, the boat on top of me presses my left shoulder and my head into the sand at the bottom.

"I had prepared myself for death before going to sea. With a presentiment that something was going to happen to me I had left the mission chapel after recommending myself to the protection and intercession of St. Joseph. After the last prayer before the tabernacle I said to myself, 'Here you are kneeling before your Saviour in the Holy Eucharist you may perhaps soon see Him in His majesty in

Heaven,' and when I stepped from the shore into the boat I asked the Father Superior whether I had his absolution if anything happened to me, and he said 'Yes.' Here I was, then, under the boat, deserted by all, and submerged under a mountain of water. It was fortunate I did not get with my head under the edge of the boat, it would have killed me without doubt.

"A prey, then, to the wild elements without any chance of human assistance. I bethought myself of my holy patron St. Joseph, and said to myself: 'I have always honored him, he will surely help me.' And he did; the boat moved, I was free and the action of the incoming tide pushed me into shallower water, where then standing, my head just reached a little above the surface. I breathed deep and long to recover my strength. I saw several things floating near me, but no human being seemed to be in sight. This lasted only a moment. The next incoming wave threw me again violently on the ground, and I was again covered with water. Instinctively I tried to catch hold of something, but at first in vain; finally I did clutch at something. It was the leg of the negro who had taken me into the boat. I tried to hold on as fast as possible, but the man shook himself free to save his own life, and I was again left by myself. To swim in the ocean is very difficult, and I was enfeebled by sickness and besides fully dressed. Strange to say, I suddenly remembered something that I had read fourteen or fifteen years ago: 'If one should have the misfortune to fall into the water, one should not attempt to lift his hands out of the water, but should keep them submerged and try to make ascending movements.' As soon as I remembered I tried it. Whether it helped me any I cannot tell, I felt so powerless. Now and again I could keep my head above water, and again I was completely submerged, and of course I swallowed a great deal of the brine. Hope rose in me when I noticed that the water was carrying me slowly nearer the land, and I thought if I could maintain my strength and escape that only danger that was lurking round here, I might be saved. Five days before I met with this accident, toward evening a boat with five negroes was capsized and the steersman was eaten by sharks. The brother of the unfortunate man told it me himself at Adjido, and complained bitterly

that the white people had compelled them to send out the boat at that hour, when they knew that the danger from sharks was the greatest. The negroes who had manned my boat knew of the misfortune of their companions and I could not blame them for leaving me to my fate, though they could have carried me ashore, as they were all strong men and experienced.

"Finding myself in this desperate condition I made an additional promise to St. Joseph if he would

save me.

"I now noticed that the shore was quite near, and I became again hopeful. All at once I came to a point where I lost the ground from under my feet, nor did I seem to be able to rise. My hope of being saved died within me. I made the acts of the dying, recommended my soul to the mercies of my dear Lord, and resigned myself to my fate. Death awoke no fear in my heart.

"Once more I worked myself up to the surface and saw people not more than twenty-five or thirty feet ahead of me. As loud as I could I called for help, but they did not hear, the noise of the surf was too great. At last they saw my head, but my strength is giving way, I am perfectly exhausted and breathe but weakly. Suddenly the hand of one of the negroes seized me. I am saved! Thanks to St. Joseph!

"In a quarter of an hour I find myself in bed. They called Victorino, the colored hospital attendant because the doctor happened to be absent, but there was nothing to be done for the moment but to let me rest. I was dead tired out, but had no fever. The place where the boat had caught me pained me much, and I had pains in my lungs when breathing, but Dr. Wicke, who had been called by telephone, ordered nothing but complete rest.

"They told me later that the negro boys in the mission cried bitterly when they saw my condition and cried out in despair, 'Father Arand will die!" None of the people who had seen the accident believed that I could be saved, and were prepared to see me brought ashore dead. The Father Superior said to me: 'Since I have been in Africa I had not had a more joyful moment than when you opened your eyes and spoke to me again after being saved.'"

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