s and, like the newly-made
millionaire, they are fearful of anything that threatens their wealth.
They become enthusiasts about what they have--and I must confess that
some of them even become a bit of a nuisance. But it is a good sign.
It is a sign of sincerity, and you cannot overlook sincerity. There is
too little of it in the world."
"I am mighty glad now," said Saunders, "that you haven't got it."
"What? The sincerity?"
"Oh, Lord, no!--the bigotry. Anyhow, if I stay here, you won't have
much trouble with me for, like a certain man I once read about, the
church I _don't_ go to is the Methodist."
"Then I will have to give you up," said Father Murray. "If the
Methodist were the one you actually _did_ go to, I might have half a
chance to make you a convert; but since you do not go to _any_, I am
afraid that my counsels would fall upon stony ground. But you will
always be welcome to the rectory, even if you do not bother the
church," he added.
"But surely, Father," said Saunders, "you are not going to stay here?
Hasn't the Bishop made you his Vicar-General again? And doesn't he
want you to go back to the Cathedral?"
"That is true," answered the priest, his face becoming grave. "But I
have grown very fond of Sihasset, and the Bishop has kindly given me
permission to remain in charge of the parish here."
"I don't quite understand that," said the visitor in an urging way. "I
should hate to lose you, Father--for of course I shall stay if the
Baron offers me the position, and I'm going to bring the wife and
kiddies, too--I like the place, and I like the people--but when I was a
common soldier, I wanted to be a sergeant, and when I became sergeant I
wanted to be a lieutenant. I suppose if I had gotten the lieutenancy,
I should have wanted a captaincy, and then I shouldn't have been
satisfied until I had charge of a battalion--and so on up the line. It
takes all the ginger out of a man if he has no ambitions. Why
shouldn't a priest have them, too?"
"Some of them have," answered Father Murray, "when they are young. But
when they 'arrive' they begin to find out the truth of what they were
told in the seminary long before--that 'arriving' does not make them
any happier. In the Catholic Church, position means trouble and worry,
because it means that you become more of a servant yet assume greater
responsibilities. If a man can center his ambitions in the next world,
it makes him a great deal happie
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