[Illustration: _Bolax, Imp or Angel Which?_]
[Illustration: JE SUIS MOI, LE GÉNÈRALE BOOME.
I AM THE GREAT GENERAL BOOME.
[From Fun in Dormitory. page 166.]]
BOLAX
IMP OR ANGEL--WHICH?
BY MRS. JOSEPHINE CULPEPER
[Illustration]
JOHN MURPHY COMPANY.
Baltimore: New York:
200 W. Lombard Street. 70 Fifth Avenue.
1907.
_Copyright 1907, by_
Mrs. Josephine Culpeper
PRINTED BY JOHN MURPHY COMPANY
_"Bolax: Imp or Angel--Which?" Being favorably criticised by priests of
literary ability, is hereby recommended most heartily by me to all
Catholics._
_As a study in child-life and as a rational object lesson in the
religious and moral training of children, Mrs. Culpeper's book should
become popular and the jolly little Bolax be made welcome in many
households._
_Faithfully yours in Xt,_
[Illustration: Signature]
_Dedicated to my best beloved pupils, especially the children of
the Late Dr. William V. Keating, and those of Joseph R. Carpenter,
by their old governess._
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
CHAPTER I.
AMY'S COMPANY, 1
CHAPTER II.
THE WONDERFUL RIDE, 9
CHAPTER III.
THE PARTY, 19
CHAPTER IV.
PLEASANT CONTROVERSY, 29
CHAPTER V.
THE PICNIC, 38
CHAPTER VI.
A TALK ABOUT OUR BOYS, 52
CHAPTER VII.
THE FIGHT, 61
CHAPTER VIII.
THE COAL MAN, 78
CHAPTER IX.
AMY'S TRIP TO THE SEASHORE, 89
CHAPTER X.
CHRISTMAS AND "LITTLE CHRISTMAS," OR KING'S
DAY, 100
CHAPTER XI.
PRACTISING, 116
CHAPTER XII.
FIRST COMMUNION, 130
CHAPTER XIII.
UNFORSEEN EVENTS, 146
CHAPTER XIV.
BOLAX GOES TO COLLEGE, 157
CHAPTER XV.
LETTER FROM A FRIEND, 174
CHAPTER XVI.
BOLAX LEAVES COLLEGE FOR VACATION, 196
ONLY A BOY.
Only a boy with his noise and fun,
The veriest mystery under the sun;
As brimful of mischief and wit and glee
As ever a human frame can be,
And as hard to manage as--ah! ah, me!
'Tis hard to tell,
Yet we love him well.
Only a boy, with his fearful tread,
Who cannot be driven, but must be led;
Who troubles the neighbors' dogs and cats,
And tears more clothes, and spoils more hats,
Loses more tops and kites and bats
Than would stock a store,
For a year or more.
Only a boy, with his wild, strange ways,
With his idle hours on busy days;
With his queer remarks and his odd replies,
Sometimes foolish and sometimes wise,
Often brilliant for one of his size,
As a meteor hurl'd,
From the pleasant world.
Only a boy, who will be a man
If Nature goes on with her first great plan--
If water, or fire, or some fatal snare
Conspire not to rob us of this our heir,
Our blessing, our trouble, our rest, our care,
Our torment, our joy,
"Our only boy."
--_Anonymous_.
BOLAX IMP OR ANGEL--WHICH?
CHAPTER I.
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."