A Boy Knight

by Martin J. Scott

The effects of Father Boone's visit at the Daly home began to show at once; the father, mother and son were transformed. Michael Daly spoke of it first. "I've not had a day's luck since I've been away from the Church, and I'm going to get back."

"O Blessed Mother, do you hear him?" exclaimed Mrs. Daly. "Holy Mary, pray for us sinners now."

"I've had my last drink, so help me!" continued Daly. "I've said it often before, and gone back to the dirty stuff. But something new has come into my life. Father Boone's words burned right into my soul. And every word he said was true, so help me!"

All the while, Bill was wondering. Could it be real? It all seemed so new to him. For eight years he had heard nothing but blasphemy and abuse from his father, and here he was now, talking and acting like a man. Was it a reality? He could hardly believe his senses. But there was his father arm and arm with his mother. That certainly was real. It was years since he had seen anything like that before. The sight, so unusual, began to overpower him. He ran to his father and cried out, "O Dad, Dad, Dad!"

For a moment he could say no more.

"It's all right, Willie boy," said his father. "Dad's all right, and he's going to stay so."

It is true that Willie had become more or less a "tough." His environment had hardened him. He had had to fight his way along. But one thing always stood by him, his affection for his mother. Something else also was a big factor in keeping him from going altogether bad. He never failed to say his morning and evening prayers. His early training under the good Sisters at the parochial school served as an anchor to hold him to his religion. The prayers he had learned there, the pious mottoes on the walls, the example of the Sisters, all had made a strong impression on his young mind although his conduct often failed to show it.

He remembered also some of the incidents they had related. One in particular never left his mind. In consequence of it, he had resolved never to say an immodest word or do an unclean deed. No boy ever heard an impure word from Bill, no matter how rough he might be. He would fight, yes. He would swagger and bluster. But he could never forget the promise he had made one day in church, before the altar of the Blessed Virgin, that he would never say anything to make her blush. And so far he never had, although he had often been with companions whose conversation and conduct would bring the crimson to any decent face.

He had from his faith a realization of the presence of God in the world. He remembered a large frame in the class room wherein was the picture of a triangle. In the center was an Eye. It seemed to be looking right at him, no matter where he was, and under it was written, "The All-Seeing Eye of God." The Sister one day had said to the boys that they should always live in such a way that they should be glad God was looking at them. That made a great impression on him. Of course, he often forgot the Eye. But on one occasion, when he was strongly tempted to steal, and the two boys with him did steal, he saw that Eye, and remained honest. The day after, the two fellows were caught and sent to the reformatory for a year. The Eye of God meant even more to him after that.

On another occasion, he could have received an afternoon off by lying, as did several of his companions. But the Eye was looking at him, and he would not tell the lie. It is true, there was many a slip, for poor Bill was only human and a boy. And after all, religion does not suppose we are all saints. Its purpose is to make us such. It has hard work on some material. But no substance is too hard for it, if only it has half a chance. Bill, although a 'bad nut' as many called him, was not so bad as he might have been. If it were not for his religion, poorly as he practised it, he would have gone to the bad utterly. So Bill now stood facing a new thing in his life. His father was turning in a new direction. Would he keep on in it, or fall back, as so often before?