"My Saviour died on a Cross for me, and shall I, a vile sinner, be
content to die in my bed?" Thus he would always answer the
remonstrances of the priest.

Whenever I read the Gospel narrative of Lazarus--the wretchedly
clothed, ill-fed, diseased mendicant--who inspired loathing in the eyes
and nostrils of the delicately nurtured, sensual men who flocked past
his unlovely form to the banquets of the rich glutton at whose palace
gate he lay, my thoughts fly at once to my old friend, Archie the
penitent, and my prayers rise to Heaven on his behalf in the Church's
touching petition for the departed:

"Cum Lazaro, quondam paupere, eternam habeas requiem!"

"With Lazarus, once poor, now blest
May'st thou enjoy eternal rest!"




IV

GOLDEN DREAMS


"All the world is turning golden, turning golden
In the spring."
(_Nora Hopper--"April."_)