The road stretched out for nearly a mile, white as its name indicated, and as well cared for as if it were the driveway into a gentleman's private demesne. On each side, it was bordered by immense sycamore trees; their beautiful branches meeting overhead, and their smooth shining trunk resembling pillars in the aisle of some grand Cathedral.
"This," said Mr. O'Donnel, "reminds me of roads I saw in the North of France, only there you would be sure to see an altar or a cross erected by the pious people, many a time I saw men, women and children kneeling before these shrines." "Are you a Catholic?" asked Bolax. "Indeed, and I am, thank God. Are you?" said Mr. O'Donnel. "Of course, I am," answered Bolax, with a rising inflection as though he felt injured at anyone questioning his religious belief. "Can't you see in my face I'm a Catholic; you ought to hear me stand up for my religion. I knocked the stuffing out of Reddy Smith last week for saying the priest walked pigeon-toed." "Ha! Ha!" laughed Mr. O'Donnel, "more power to you, my little man, always stand up for your faith and respect the priests; there's nothing like keeping faithful to your religion; it will be a great comfort to you all through life. I remember what a comfort it was to me when I came near dying on the battlefield in South Africa." "Oh!" exclaimed Bolax "you don't mean to say you were in Africa?"
"Did you fight the Boers? I've heard so much about them, and Mamma and Papa took sides with them, and we all felt so sorry for the poor people."
"And so did I and every Irish soldier; in fact, I deserted the English ranks, and with many others tried to help the brave Boers. They are good people. I could tell you stories that would fill a book about them, and they are religious according to what they know of religion. After the disaster at Colesburg, the Boers helped to bury the British dead; they prayed and sang hymns over the graves, and some of the leaders made impressive speeches, expressing their horror of the war, regretting the losses on both sides, and making supplication to the Heavenly Father that the war would soon end. Oh, it is fine Catholics they would make, but strange to say, I never heard of a Catholic missionary being among them."
"When I'm a man," said Bolax, striking his knees to emphasize his words, "I'll be a priest and go among those good people and teach them the true faith." "God bless your innocent heart. I wonder if you'll remember your ride with the coal man when you are a priest; your Ma may scold when she knows of it."
"My mother teaches me to respect all respectable people, and I am sure you are very respectable, because you are a good Catholic."
"Thank you for an out and out little gentleman," said Mr. O'Donnel, "and God prosper you and your good mother. Here we are at our journey's end; suppose you get down at the gate, my little man, and run up to the house and ask to have the cellar window opened for me; it will save time. Here is the ticket; you might get it signed. This is Carpenter Mansion."
Bolax ran off glad to oblige his friend and show his appreciation of the ride.