desert my people here it would be a sin. There are plenty at home for
the rich places but you have no one to send here. Please ask the
bishop to let me stay. I think it is God's will.' The day I received
that letter I heard one of my priests at the Cathedral say: 'How seedy
that young Belmond looks! for an Eastern man he is positively sloppy
in his dress. He ought to brace up and think of the dignity of his
calling. Surely such a man is not calculated to impress himself upon
our separated brethren.' And another chimed in: 'I wonder why he left
his own diocese?'"

"I heard no more for two years except for the annual report, and now
and then a request for a dispensation. I did hear that he was teaching
the few children of the parish himself, and every little while I saw
an article in some of the papers, unsigned but suspiciously like his
style, and I suspected that he was earning a little money with his
pen.

"One winter night, returning alone from a visitation of Vinta, the
fast train was stalled by a blizzard at the Alta station. I went out
on the platform to secure a breath of fresh air, but I had scarcely
closed the door when a boy rushed up to me and asked if I were a
Catholic priest. When I nodded he said: 'We have been trying to get a
priest all day, but the wires are down in the storm. Father Belmond
is sick and the doctor says he will die. He told me to look through
every train that came in. He was sure I would find some one.' Reaching
at once for my grip and coat I rushed to the home of the Pastor. The
home was the lean-to vestry of the old log church. In one corner
Father Belmond lived; another was given over to the vestments and
linens. Everything was spotlessly clean. On a poor bed the priest was
tossing, moaning and delirious. Only the boy had attended him in his