Read and Write Course 2 Mcgraw-Hill

[Mcgraw-Hill]
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/read-and-write-course-2-mcgraw-hill-mcgraw-hill/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Read and Write Course 2 Teachers Edition Mcgraw-Hill

[Mcgraw-Hill]

https://ebookmass.com/product/read-and-write-course-2-teachers-
edition-mcgraw-hill-mcgraw-hill/

Read and Write Course 3 Mcgraw-Hill [Mcgraw-Hill]

https://ebookmass.com/product/read-and-write-course-3-mcgraw-
hill-mcgraw-hill/

Read and Write Course 3 Teachers Edition Mcgraw-Hill

[Mcgraw-Hill]

https://ebookmass.com/product/read-and-write-course-3-teachers-
edition-mcgraw-hill-mcgraw-hill/

Read and Write Course 1 Teachers Edition Mcgraw-Hill

[Mcgraw-Hill]

https://ebookmass.com/product/read-and-write-course-1-teachers-
edition-mcgraw-hill-mcgraw-hill/
Read, Reason, Write 12th Edition Seyler

https://ebookmass.com/product/read-reason-write-12th-edition-
seyler/

Read, Reason, Write 12th Edition, (Ebook PDF)

https://ebookmass.com/product/read-reason-write-12th-edition-
ebook-pdf/

Classrooms That Work: They Can All Read and Write

https://ebookmass.com/product/classrooms-that-work-they-can-all-
read-and-write/

Literature, Course 2 Grade 7 TE Mcgraw-Hill [Mcgraw-

Hill]

https://ebookmass.com/product/literature-course-2-grade-7-te-
mcgraw-hill-mcgraw-hill/

Writing to Read, Reading to Write 2nd Edition Kuehner

https://ebookmass.com/product/writing-to-read-reading-to-
write-2nd-edition-kuehner/
INTERACTIVE

Read and
Write
Copyright © by Thhe McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc. All rights reserved. Permission is
granted to reprod
reproduce the material contained herein on the condition that such material
be reproduced only for classroom use; be provided to students, teachers, and families
without charge; and be used solely in conjunction with the Glencoe Literaturee program.
Any other reproduction, for sale or other use, is expressly prohibited.

Send all inquiries to:

Glencoe/McGraw-Hill
8787 Orion Place
Columbus, OH 43240-4027

ISBN: 978-0-07-893055-3
MHID: 0-07-893055-3

Printed in the United States of America.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 130 15 14 13 12 11 10 09
 Contents

Why Use This Book? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vi

Amigo Brothers • Piri Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Rikki-tikki-tavi • Rudyard Kipling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Thank You, M’am • Langston Hughes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Comparing Literature
The Rider • Naomi Shihab Nye
I’ll Walk the Tightrope • Margaret Danner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

Slam, Dunk, & Hook • Yusef Komunyakaa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

What Is a Knight? • John Farman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75

Functional Documents
Train Schedule
Web Page
Stadium Map . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

iii
Contents (continued)

Comparing Literature
Aunty Misery • Judith Ortiz Cofer
Strawberries • Gayle Ross . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97

TIME: The Giggle Prescription • Tracy Eberhart and Robert A. Barnett . . . . . . . . . 109

Miracles • Walt Whitman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

Annabel Lee • Edgar Allan Poe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125

A Crush • Cynthia Rylant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

Names/Nombres • Julia Alvarez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

Comparing Literature
Langston Terrace • Eloise Greenfield and Lessie Jones Little
Home • Gwendolyn Brooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159

New Directions • Maya Angelou . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173

Four Skinny Trees

Chanclas • Sandra Cisneros . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

TIME: Message of Hope • Ericka Sóuter and Dietlind Lerner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193

iv
Contents (continued)

Comparing Literature
from Barrio Boy • Ernesto Galarza
How I Learned English • Gregory Djanikian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street, Act 1 • Rod Serling . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221

Additional Activities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242

Pronunciation Key . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279

Glossary/Glosario . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279

My Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298

v
 Why Use This Book?

Read for Fun and Read to Learn!

The notes and features of Read and Writee will help you read and understand each
literature and nonfiction selection. As you use these notes and features, you practice
the skills and strategies that good readers use when they read.

Before You Read

Connect Before You Read

Before you read,

read think about
your own experiences. Share
Connect to the Short Story
your knowledge and opinions.

Literary Elements and

Reading Skills
A good friend
Literary elements help you to
learn important features of
literature. Reading skills help
you develop good strategies to
understand what you read. Literary Element Plot

PÊÊ

Reading Strategy Connect to Personal Experience

vi
 Selection and Content
Vocabulary
Learning new vocabulary helps
prepare you to read.

Selection Vocabulary Practice saying the words with a partner.

devastating improvised

PÊ
wary
evading

perpetual
P

PÊ

Content Vocabulary
lean (lēn) adj. thin champion (chamʼ pē ən) n. muscular (musʼ kyə lər) ashamed (ə shāmdʼ) adj.
Ali exercises often the person who wins adj. having well-formed feeling embarrassed or
because he wants to be first prize muscles, or strong uncomfortable
leann and strong. Raúl was the championn of Jaime lifts weights to The girl felt ashamed.
the soccer team. become muscular. She forgot her homework
at home.

confident (konʼ fə dənt) adj. victory (vikʼ tər ē) n. the briskly (briskʼ lē) adv. in a charging (chärjʼ ing) v.
being sure of oneself defeat of an enemy or quick and energetic way moving forward to
Maria is confident opponent The excited group of attack
that she will save enough The soccer game ended in students walked briskly to I could not catch my dog.
money to buy a bicycle. a victoryy for our schooll. the bus. It was charging after
PÊCognate (Spanish) victoria a rabbit.

For more practice, see page 242.

Amigo Brothers 3

vii
Read, Respond, Interact
Notes support you as you read. Interact with and respond to the
text by answering questions and reading information.

During Reading

Questions about Literary Element

Antonio Cruz and Felix Varga were both seventeen
years old. They were so together in friendship that they felt allow you to practice this feature.
themselves to be brothers. They had known each other
since childhood, growing up on the lower east side of
Manhattan in the same tenement1 building on Fifth Street
between Avenue A and Avenue B.
lean (lēn) adj. thin Antonio was fair, lean and lanky, while Felix was dark,
short, and husky. Antonio’s hair was always falling over his
eyes, while Felix wore his black hair in a natural Afro style.
10 Each youngster had a dream of someday becoming
Content Vocabulary appears next
lightweight champion
p of the world. Every chance they
had the boys worked out, sometimes at the Boy’s Club on
to the words in the text.
champion (chamʼ pē ən) n. 10th Street and Avenue A and sometimes at the pro’s gym
the person who wins first prize on 14th Street. Early morning sunrises would find them
running along the East River Drive, wrapped in sweat
shirts, short towels around their necks, and handkerchiefs
Apache style around their foreheads.
While some youngsters were into street negatives,
Antonio and Felix slept, ate, rapped, and dreamt positive.
20 Between them, they had a collection of Fight magazines
Background Information second to none, plus a scrapbook filled with torn tickets
Lightweight Boxers are to every boxing match they had ever attended, and some
put in categories based on clippings of their own. If asked a question about any given
their weights. A boxer in the
fighter, they would immediately zip out from their memory
lightweight category weighs
between 130 and 135 pounds. banks divisions, weights, records of fights, knockouts,
technical knockouts, and draws2 or losses.
Each had fought many bouts representing their
community and had won two gold-plated medals plus a Amigo Brothers
To Sum Up
PÊ Felix and Antonio are
best friends. 1. A tenementt is a kind of apartment building.
2. A knockoutt is when a boxer falls to the ground and does not stand up within a certain amoun silver and bronze medallion. The difference
PÊ Both boys want to be time. A technical knockoutt is when a boxer is injured or confused and unable to continue th was in their style. Antonio’s lean form and 30
boxing champions. fight. A draw
w is when a fight is so close that neither boxer can be called the winner.
long reach made him the better boxer, while
Felix’s short and muscular frame made him (musʼ kyə lər) adj.
4 having well-formed muscles,
boxing ring the better slugger. Whenever they had met
or strong
in the ring for sparring sessions,3 it had
always been hot and heavy.
Now, after a series of elimination bouts,4 they had been
informed that they were to meet each other in the division
finals that were scheduled for the seventh of August, two
weeks away––the winner to represent the Boys Club in the
Golden Gloves Championship Tournament. 40
Literary Element
The two boys continued to run together along the East
River Drive. But even when joking with each other, they Plot Antonio and Felix must
To Sum Up boxes summarize both sensed a wall rising between them. fight each other. What type
of conflict is this? Check the
One morning less than a week before their bout, they
each page. met as usual for their daily workout. They fooled around
correct answer.
internal
with a few jabs at the air, slapped skin, and then took off, external
running lightly along the dirty East River’s edge. neither
Antonio glanced at Felix who kept his eyes purposely
straight ahead, pausing from time to time to do some fancy
leg work while throwing one-twos followed by upper 50

cuts to an imaginary jaw. Antonio then beat the air with a

Background Information gives you barrage of body blows and short devastating lefts with an
overhand jaw-breaking right.
extra facts about the text. After a mile or so, Felix puffed and said, “Let’s stop a
while, bro. I think we both got something to say to each
other.”
Antonio nodded. It was not natural to be acting as
though nothing unusual was happening when two

Selection Vocabulary appears on Vocabulary

To Sum Up
devastating (devʼ əs tātʼ ing) adj. causing a lot of injury or destruction

the same page as the new word. PÊ The boys have different
boxing styles.
PÊ The boys must compete
3. Sparring sessionss are practice fights. against each other.
4. Elimination boutss are fights in a tournament; the winners advance to fight again, but the losers
are taken out of competition.
Amigo
Amigo Brothers
Brothers 5

viii
 Amigo Brothers

the courage of a tug boat pulling a barge five times its

welterweight10 size.
“It’s fair, Tony. When we get into the ring, it’s gotta be Follow along as your
like we never met. We gotta be like two heavy strangers teacher leads you in a
that want the same thing and only one can have it. You
90
shared reading. Respond to Comprehension Check
understand, don’tcha?”
í I know.” Tony smiled. “No pulling punches. We go
“Sí, omprehension Check
to see how well you understand
all the way.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Listen, Tony. Don’t you think it’s a
Reread the boxed text.
Underline what the boys
the text.
good idea if we don’t see each other until the day of the promise each other.
fight? I’m going to stay with my Aunt Lucy in the Bronx. I
can use Gleason’s Gym for working out. My manager says
he got some sparring partners with more or less your style.”
Tony scratched his nose pensively.11 “Yeah, it would be 100
Definitions of idioms or interesting
better for our heads.” He held out his hand, palm upward.
“Deal?” A deall is an agreement. The
expressions help you to understand
boys agree to stay apart until
“Deal.” Felix lightly slapped open skin.
“Ready for some more running?” Tony asked lamely.
the fight. what you read.
“Naw, bro. Let’s cut it here. You go on. I kinda like to get

10. A welterweightt boxer weighs between 141 and 147 pounds.

11. Pensivelyy means “in a thoughtful or sad way.”
Footnotes define terms in the text.
REFLECT
Connect to Personal Experience
Think about a time when you competed against a friend.
How did you feel about it?

_________________________________________________

_________________________________________________

_________________________________________________

_________________________________________________
To Sum Up
_________________________________________________
PARTNERS
Felix and Antonio decide that Note Taking
they must fight each other
Talk about your answer with a partner.
fairly.

Amigo Brothers 7

Reflect boxes give you a chance to

practice the Reading Strategy.

You can respond to and interact

with nonfiction text on a special
Most Interesting One Thing One Thing
Note Taking page. Word
New Word
I Already Knew I Learned

What Is a Knight? 79

ix
Show What You Know
After reading activities help you focus your understanding of the text.
Here, you apply the skills and strategies you practiced during reading.

After Reading
After You Read
Vocabulary Check shows how well
Vocabulary Check you learned the new vocabulary.

Check your understanding of the

text in Comprehension Check.

After You Read

Comprehension Check

Beginning

Middle

End

Amigo Brothers 19

After You Read

Role Play an Interview

For more practice, see page 243.

20

Fun activities allow you to speak,

listen, read, and write.

Many other activities also appear

Amigo Brothers 243
in the back of your book!
x
TX

Amigo Brothers 1
Before You Read

Connect to the Short Story

A good friend

Literary Element Plot

Reading Strategy Connect to Personal Experience

2
Selection Vocabulary Practice saying the words with a partner.
devastating improvised

➤
wary
evading

perpetual
➤

Content Vocabulary
lean (lēn) adj. thin champion (chamʼ pē ən) n. muscular (musʼ kyə lər) ashamed (ə shāmdʼ) adj.
Ali exercises often the person who wins adj. having well-formed feeling embarrassed or
because he wants to be first prize muscles, or strong uncomfortable
leann and strong. Raúl was the championn of Jaime lifts weights to The girl felt ashamed.
the soccer team. become muscular. She forgot her homework
at home.

confident (konʼ fə dənt) adj. victory (vikʼ tər ē) n. the briskly (briskʼ lē) adv. in a charging (chärjʼ ing) v.
being sure of oneself defeat of an enemy or quick and energetic way moving forward to
Maria is confident opponent The excited group of attack
that she will save enough The soccer game ended in students walked briskly to I could not catch my dog.
money to buy a bicycle. a victoryy for our schooll. the bus. It was charging after
➤ Cognate (Spanish) victoria a rabbit.

For more practice, see page 242.

Amigo Brothers 3
 Antonio Cruz and Felix Varga were both seventeen
years old. They were so together in friendship that they felt
themselves to be brothers. They had known each other
since childhood, growing up on the lower east side of
Manhattan in the same tenement1 building on Fifth Street
between Avenue A and Avenue B.
lean (lēn) adj. thin Antonio was fair, lean and lanky, while Felix was dark,
short, and husky. Antonio’s hair was always falling over his
eyes, while Felix wore his black hair in a natural Afro style.
10 Each youngster had a dream of someday becoming
lightweight champion
p of the world. Every chance they
had the boys worked out, sometimes at the Boy’s Club on
champion (chamʼ pē ən) n. 10th Street and Avenue A and sometimes at the pro’s gym
the person who wins first prize on 14th Street. Early morning sunrises would find them
running along the East River Drive, wrapped in sweat
shirts, short towels around their necks, and handkerchiefs
Apache style around their foreheads.
While some youngsters were into street negatives,
Antonio and Felix slept, ate, rapped, and dreamt positive.
20 Between them, they had a collection of Fight magazines
Background Information second to none, plus a scrapbook filled with torn tickets
Lightweight Boxers are to every boxing match they had ever attended, and some
put in categories based on clippings of their own. If asked a question about any given
their weights. A boxer in the
fighter, they would immediately zip out from their memory
lightweight category weighs
between 130 and 135 pounds. banks divisions, weights, records of fights, knockouts,
technical knockouts, and draws2 or losses.
Each had fought many bouts representing their
community and had won two gold-plated medals plus a
To Sum Up
➤ Felix and Antonio are
best friends. 1. A tenementt is a kind of apartment building.
2. A knockoutt is when a boxer falls to the ground and does not stand up within a certain amount of
➤ Both boys want to be time. A technical knockoutt is when a boxer is injured or confused and unable to continue the
boxing champions. fight. A draw
w is when a fight is so close that neither boxer can be called the winner.

4
 Amigo Brothers

silver and bronze medallion. The difference

was in their style. Antonio’s lean form and 30

long reach made him the better boxer, while

Felix’s short and muscular frame made him muscular (musʼ kyə lər) adj.
having well-formed muscles,
boxing ring the better slugger. Whenever they had met
or strong
in the ring for sparring sessions,3 it had
always been hot and heavy.
Now, after a series of elimination bouts,4 they had been
informed that they were to meet each other in the division
finals that were scheduled for the seventh of August, two
weeks away––the winner to represent the Boys Club in the
Golden Gloves Championship Tournament. 40
Literary Element
The two boys continued to run together along the East
River Drive. But even when joking with each other, they Plot Antonio and Felix must
both sensed a wall rising between them. fight each other. What type
of conflict is this? Check the
One morning less than a week before their bout, they
correct answer.
met as usual for their daily workout. They fooled around internal
with a few jabs at the air, slapped skin, and then took off, external
running lightly along the dirty East River’s edge. neither
Antonio glanced at Felix who kept his eyes purposely
straight ahead, pausing from time to time to do some fancy
leg work while throwing one-twos followed by upper 50

cuts to an imaginary jaw. Antonio then beat the air with a

barrage of body blows and short devastating lefts with an
overhand jaw-breaking right.
After a mile or so, Felix puffed and said, “Let’s stop a
while, bro. I think we both got something to say to each
other.”
Antonio nodded. It was not natural to be acting as
though nothing unusual was happening when two

Vocabulary
devastating (devʼ əs tātʼ ing) adj. causing a lot of injury or destruction
To Sum Up
➤ The boys have different
boxing styles.
➤ The boys must compete
3. Sparring sessionss are practice fights. against each other.
4. Elimination boutss are fights in a tournament; the winners advance to fight again, but the losers
are taken out of competition.
Amigo
Amigo Brothers
Brothers 5
 Amigo Brothers

Blasting each otherr means ace-boon5 buddies were going to be blasting each other
“hitting each other very hard.” 60 within a few short days.
They rested their elbows on the railing separating them
from the river. Antonio wiped his face with his short towel.
The sunrise was now creating day.
Felix leaned heavily on the river’s railing and stared
across to the shores of Brooklyn. Finally, he broke the
silence.
“Man, I don’t know how to come out with it.”
Literary Element
Antonio helped. “It’s about our fight, right?”
Plot Felix has an internal “Yeah, right.” Felix’s eyes squinted at the rising orange
conflict. Underline the words 70 sun.
in the story that tell you what
he is feeling.
“I’ve been thinking about it too, panín.6 In fact, since we
found out it was going to be me and you, I’ve been awake
at night, pulling punches7 on you, trying not to hurt you.”
“Same here. It ain’t natural not to think about the fight.
I mean, we both are cheverote 8 fighters and we both want
to win. But only one of us can win. There ain’t no draws in
the eliminations.”
Felix tapped Antonio gently on the shoulder. “I don’t
mean to sound like I’m bragging, bro. But I wanna win, fair
80 and square.”
Antonio nodded quietly. “Yeah. We both know that in
the ring the better man wins. Friend or no friend, brother or
no...”
Felix finished it for him. “Brother. Tony, let’s promise
something right here. Okay?”
“If it’s fair, hermano,9 I’m for it.”Antonio admired

To Sum Up
➤ Both boys start feeling
5. Here, ace means “best” and boonn means “good times,” so ace-boon n buddies are best friends
uneasy when they who have fun and good times.
are together. 6. Panín (päʼ nēn) is American Spanish slang for “pal or friend.”
➤ They both want to win the 7. Pulling punchess means “holding back on the strength of a punch.”
fight, but they don’t want 8. Cheverotee (che ve rōʼ tā) is American Spanish slang for “really cool.”

to hurt each other. 9. Hermanoo (ār mänʼ ō) is Spanish for “brother.”

6
 Amigo Brothers

the courage of a tug boat pulling a barge five times its

welterweight10 size.
“It’s fair, Tony. When we get into the ring, it’s gotta be Follow along as your
like we never met. We gotta be like two heavy strangers 90 teacher leads you in a
that want the same thing and only one can have it. You shared reading.
understand, don’tcha?”
í I know.” Tony smiled. “No pulling punches. We go
“Sí, omprehension Check
all the way.” Reread the boxed text.
“Yeah, that’s right. Listen, Tony. Don’t you think it’s a Underline what the boys
good idea if we don’t see each other until the day of the promise each other.
fight? I’m going to stay with my Aunt Lucy in the Bronx. I
can use Gleason’s Gym for working out. My manager says
he got some sparring partners with more or less your style.”
Tony scratched his nose pensively.11 “Yeah, it would be 100
better for our heads.” He held out his hand, palm upward.
“Deal?” A deall is an agreement. The
“Deal.” Felix lightly slapped open skin. boys agree to stay apart until
the fight.
“Ready for some more running?” Tony asked lamely.
“Naw, bro. Let’s cut it here. You go on. I kinda like to get

10. A welterweightt boxer weighs between 141 and 147 pounds.

11. Pensivelyy means “in a thoughtful or sad way.”

REFLECT
Connect to Personal Experience
Think about a time when you competed against a friend.
How did you feel about it?

_________________________________________________

_________________________________________________

_________________________________________________

_________________________________________________
To Sum Up
_________________________________________________
Felix and Antonio decide that
PARTNERS
they must fight each other
Talk about your answer with a partner.
fairly.

Amigo Brothers 7
 Amigo Brothers

things together in my head.”

“You ain’t worried, are you?” Tony asked.
“No way, man.” Felix laughed out loud. “I got too much
smarts for that. I just think it’s cooler if we split right here.
110 After the fight, we can get it together again like nothing
ever happened.”
ashamed ( ə shāmdʼ) adj. feeling The amigo brothers were not ashamed to hug each
embarrassed or uncomfortable other tightly.
“Guess you’re right. Watch yourself, Felix. I hear there’s
some pretty heavy dudes up in the Bronx. Sauvecito,12
okay?”
“Okay. You watch yourself too, sabe?”13
Tony jogged away. Felix watched his friend disappear
Psyching upp means “to from view, throwing rights and lefts. Both fighters had a lot
emotionally prepare for a task.” 120 of psyching up to do before the big fight.
The days in training passed much too slowly. Although
they kept out of each other’s way, they were aware of each
other’s progress via the ghetto grapevine.
The evening before the big fight, Tony made his way
Literary Element to the roof of his tenement. In the quiet early dark, he
Plot Underline what Tony does peered over the ledge. Six stories below the lights of the city
to get psyched up. blinked and the sounds of cars mingled with the curses and
the laughter of children in the street. He tried not to think
of Felix, feeling he had succeeded in psyching his mind. But
130 only in the ring would he really know. To spare Felix hurt,
he would have to knock him out, early and quick.
Up in the South Bronx, Felix decided to take in a movie
in an effort to keep Antonio’s face away from his fists. The
flick was The Champion with Kirk Douglas, the third time
Felix was seeing it.
To Sum Up The champion was getting the daylights beat out of
him. He was saved only by the sound of the bell.
➤ The boys agree to stay
apart until the fight.
12. Sauvecitoo (soo ävʼ vā sēʼ tō) is American Spanish slang for “take it easy” or “be cool.”
➤ Tony goes to the roof 13. Sabee (saʼ bā) means “You know?” in Spanish.
to think.
➤ Felix goes to a movie called
The Champion.

8
 Amigo Brothers

Felix became the champ and Tony the challenger.

The movie audience was going out of its head. The
champ hunched his shoulders grunting and sniffing red
blood back into his broken nose. The challenger, confident 140

that he had the championship in the bag, threw a left. The confident (konʼ fə d ənt) adj.
champ countered with a dynamite right. being sure of oneself
Felix’s right arm felt the shock. Antonio’s face,
superimposed on the screen, was hit by the awesome force
of the blow. Felix saw himself in the ring, blasting Antonio
against the ropes. The champ had to be forcibly restrained.
The challenger fell slowly to the canvas.
When Felix finally left the theatre, he had figured out
how to psyche himself for tomorrow’s fight. It was Felix the
Champion vs. Antonio the Challenger. 150

He walked up some dark streets, deserted except for

small pockets of wary-looking kids wearing gang colors.
Despite the fact that he was Puerto Rican like them, they
eyed him as a stranger to their turf. Felix did a fast shuffle,
bobbing and weaving, while letting loose a torrent of blows
that would demolish whatever got in its way. It seemed to
impress the brothers, who went about their own business.
Finding no takers, Felix decided to split to his aunt’s.
omprehension Check
Walking the streets had not relaxed him, neither had the
fight flick. All it had done was to stir him up. He let himself 160
How does Felix get ready
for the fight? Check the correct
quietly into his Aunt Lucy’s apartment and went straight to
answer.
bed, falling into a fitful sleep with sounds of the gong for trains at a gym
Round One. watches a movie
Antonio was passing some heavy time on his rooftop. picks fights on the street
How would the fight tomorrow affect his relationship
with Felix? After all, fighting was like any other profession.
Friendship had nothing to do with it. A gnawing doubt To Sum Up
crept in. He cut negative thinking real quick by doing ➤ As Felix watches the
some speedy fancy dance steps, bobbing and weaving movie, he thinks of himself
as a champion.
➤ Felix cannot relax.
Vocabulary ➤ Antonio worries about his
wary (wārʼ ē ) adj. careful or watchful friendship with Felix.

Amigo Brothers 9
 Amigo Brothers

170 like mercury.14 The night air was blurred with perpetual
motions of left hooks and right crosses. Felix, his amigo
brother, was not going to be Felix at all in the ring. Just an
opponent with another face. Antonio went to sleep, hearing
the opening bell for the first round. Like his friend in the
victory (vikʼ tə rē) n. the defeat South Bronx, he prayed for victoryy via a quick clean knock-
of an enemy or opponent out in the first round.
Large posters plastered all over the walls of local shops
announced the fight between Antonio Cruz and Felix
Vargas as the main bout.
180 The fight had created great interest in the
neighborhood. Antonio and Felix were well liked and
respected. Each had his own loyal following.
Antonio’s fans had unbridled15 faith in his boxing skills.
On the other side, Felix’s admirers trusted in his dynamite-
packed fists.
Felix had returned to his apartment early in the
morning of August 7th and stayed there, hoping to avoid
seeing Antonio. He turned the radio on to salsa16 music
sounds and then tried to read while waiting for word from
190 his manager.
omprehension Check The fight was scheduled to take place in Tompkins
Reread the boxed text. Square Park. It had been decided that the gymnasium of the
Underline why the fight’s Boys Club was not large enough to hold all the people who
location is changed. were sure to attend. In Tompkins Square Park, everyone
who wanted could view the fight, whether from ringside or
window fire escapes or tenement rooftops.
The morning of the fight Tompkins Square was a
beehive of activity with numerous workers setting up the
ring, the seats, and the guest speakers’ stand. The scheduled

Vocabulary
To Sum Up perpetual (pər pechʼ oo əl) adj. never-ending or lasting forever

➤ Many people are

interested in the fight. 14. Mercury is a metal that is liquid at room temperature and moves about as if it were alive.
15. Unbridled means “not being under control.”
➤ The fight will take place in 16. Salsa is a lively Latin American dance music that uses elements of rhythm and blues, jazz,
Tompkins Square Park. and rock.

10
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
“good will.” Centuries before He had come to another cave, when
“glad tidings” had been announced to the shepherds.
“Yes, Father,” I said, “it was one of the happiest days of my life.”
Then, simultaneously, we thought of the things of earth. It was time
to go back to Agnez-lez-Duisans, for, with the exception of one slice
of bread and margarine between us, we had eaten nothing since
early morning. It was now evening.
The following morning while at breakfast a letter from headquarters
was given to me by the waiter. I opened it quickly: It read, “Capt. the
Rev. R. M. Crochetiere was killed in action April 2nd, near
Bailleulmont.” This place was just a little to the south of Arras. Not a
year before he had sung the great open-air Mass at Witley Camp
when the Catholic soldiers had been consecrated to the Sacred
Heart. Just yesterday he had gone home to the Sacred Heart to
receive the reward of his stewardship. I sat back from the breakfast
table and wondered who would be next. Then I went down to the
convent.
Almost every morning I went down to the convent, for there was a
lovely garden there where I could walk up and down under the trees
and read my Breviary. Often as I passed through the court before the
main building, on my way to the garden, I paused before a beautiful
statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The base of the statue was
surrounded by a wide circle of green lawn, bordering which was a
fringe of forget-me-nots, planted very likely by the good Sisters as a
symbol of their devotion to the Sacred Heart. Every morning the
children whom the Sisters taught before they went away came to the
convent and asked a young woman—a kind of lay-Sister who came
daily to do some work about the building—when the Sisters were
coming back. “Very soon, perhaps—tomorrow, perhaps.” And the
little ones would stay through the morning and play till they were
tired; then they would sit on the low benches and sing in their sweet
childish voices the beautiful hymns that the Sisters had taught them.
The presence of the sky-blue, yellow-centered forget-me-nots
always brought to my mind the love of the Sisters for the Sacred
Heart; the sound of the children’s voices in the morning always
brought to my mind the love of the children for the Sisters.
Just beyond the convent, on the other side of the Scarpe River,
which here was only about six feet wide, was a group of Nissen huts
that had up to a few weeks before been used as a Casualty Clearing
Station, but at the beginning of the German advance the patients
and staff had been removed. Now it was being used by a Field
Ambulance for dressing wounds or some emergency operation of
casualties from the Arras front. Father Whiteside, an English
chaplain, was on duty here, though usually he called me when any of
my Canadian lads came in. Across the road from the Field
Ambulance was a large military cemetery where regiments of weary
soldiers rested softly, each under the shadow of a little white cross.
It was the following Sunday afternoon that I had my first burials in
this cemetery. At two o’clock a procession of soldiers, mostly kilted
laddies from the Thirteenth, came slowly up the long aisle of the
cemetery: in the lead, following the pipe band that played the
“Flowers of the Forest,” walked nine groups of six men, each
carrying shoulder high, one of their late comrades who had
answered bravely the last call. One was an officer, the young knight
who had passed his vigil in New Plymouth cave. While leading his
men out of the Ronville caves he had been mortally wounded,
passing away a few hours afterwards. Of the dead, only Captain
Waud and the young soldier from the Thirteenth whom I had
anointed in the cave, were Catholics.
And often as I passed through the court before the main building of
the convent and paused to look at the sweet forget-me-nots fringing
the lawn around the base of the statue of the Sacred Heart, I
recalled the two who, among others, had remembered their Creator,
and I felt now they were not forgotten: “Turn to Me and I will turn to
thee,” had said the Lord.
 Chapter LX
The Sheehans

We waited at Agnez-lez-Duisans a few days longer, but “old Fritz”

did not strike on the Arras front, though all the world knows that he
continued to gain elsewhere. Two or three times during the week,
Father Sheehan went up to Arras with a quantity of provisions to two
Poor Clare Sisters who lived on in the basement of their ruined
convent in order to pay court to their King.
In the evening we were kept busy hearing confessions and giving
Holy Communion to soldiers in the parish church. One evening when
we had heard the confessions of all the men present, I stepped into
the sacristy to say a word to Father Sheehan, who was just going out
to give Holy Communion.
“Ah, Father!” he said in his gentle, friendly manner, “I am glad you
came in. Will you please go down there to Pat and tell him not to go
to Communion now. You see, Father, he was there this morning, and
he’s such a pious lad that when he sees the others going to the rails,
he might forget that he was there this morning and go up again.”
“All right, Father,” I said, but somehow or other I found great difficulty
in suppressing a strong inclination to smile as I walked down the
flagged aisle of the church. Pat—Father Sheehan had pointed him
out to me—who was intently reading his prayer-book, looked up
kindly at me as I drew near. “God bless you, Father,” he whispered,
as I stooped over him and he disposed himself elaborately to listen.
It actually pained me to keep from laughing as I prepared to deliver
my message.
“Pat,” I said, “Father Sheehan sent me to tell you not to go to
Communion again. He is afraid that you might forget you were there
this morning and go back again.”
Pat just looked at his book and shook his head as he smiled
indulgently. Then he looked at me, still smiling, “Shure, Father dear, I
had no intention of going again!” Then he said, as if to himself, “God
bless Father Sheehan!”
Pat’s words were echoed strongly in my heart; for every one that met
Father Sheehan would feel like wishing him the very best they could,
and what is better than the blessing of God?
Just about this time I received from my mother a birthday present,
which had been delayed along the way. It was a large volume
entitled “Canon Sheehan of Doneraile,” by Father Heuser. I had long
enjoyed the works of the gentle Canon, and I had always felt that I
owed a lot to this seer and prophet. I had long wanted to read the life
of one who had made many such unerring prophesies as the
following some twenty years before the signing of the Armistice:
“Meanwhile, the new Paganism, called modern civilization, is
working out its own destruction and solving its own problems. There
are subterranean mutterings of a future upheaval that will change the
map of the world as effectually as did an irruption of Vandals or
Visigoths. In the self-degradation of women; in the angry disputes
between Labor and Capital; in the dreams of Socialists, and the
sanguinary ambitions of Nihilists; in the attitude of the great Powers
to each other, snarling and afraid to bite; in the irreverence and
flippancy of the age manifested towards the most sacred and solemn
subjects, in the destructive attempts of philosophers, in the
elimination of the supernatural, in the concentration of all human
thought upon the fleeting concerns of this life, and the covert, yet
hardly concealed, denial of a life to come; in the rage for wealth, in
the almost insane dread of poverty—and all these evil things
permeating and penetrating into every class—there is visible to the
most ordinary mortal a disintegration of society that can only
eventuate in such ruin as have made Babylon and Nineveh almost
historical myths, and has made a proverb and by-word even of
Imperial Rome. Where is the remedy? Clearly, Christianity; and still
more clearly the only Christianity that is possible, and can bear the
solvent influence of the new civilization. Nothing but the poverty of
Christ, manifested in the self-abandonment of our religious
communities; the awful purity of Christ, continued in a celibate
priesthood and the white sanctity of our nuns; the self-denial and
immolation of Christ, shown again wherever the sacrificial instinct is
manifested in our martyrs and missionaries; the love of Christ, as
exhibited in our charge of the orphaned, the abandoned, the
profligate, the diseased, the leprous and insane—can lead back the
vast masses of erring humanity to the condition not only of stability,
but of the fruition of perfect peace. For what is the great political
maxim of government but the greatest good to the greatest number
—in other words, the voluntary sacrifice of the individual for the
welfare of the Commonwealth? And where is that seen but in the
ranks of the obscure and hidden, the unknown and despised
(unknown and despised by themselves above all) members of the
Catholic church.”
I took the book down to the convent to show it to Father Sheehan. To
my question if he had ever met Canon Sheehan, looking at me in
that quizzical half smiling way that one regards a questioner when
the information to be given far exceeds that asked, he said: “Yes, I
have met him. I knew him, and he was my cousin.”
 Chapter LXI
Ecoivres

April was passing quickly. Very early in the morning, from the old
trees about the convent, one heard the sweet, clear call of many
birds; the leaves were unfolding; the fresh, revivifying odors of new
grass and early spring flowers were in the air. All around us were
signs of destruction by the ingenuity of man; yet nature was
steadfastly following her laws, restoring, expanding, and quickening
to new life—and cheering wonderfully many tired and war-weary
men.
On all sides Fritz was making advances, but we were holding him at
Arras. I made frequent visits to this City of the Dead, and every time I
passed through its gates—Arras is a walled city—an appalling sense
of loneliness gripped me. Only seventy people of the thirty thousand
inhabitants remained; and to see, now and then, a solitary civilian
moving along the street, or about some shattered dwelling-place,
only emphasized the awful stillness. I visited the ruins of the great
cathedral and saw the statue of Our Lady standing unscathed in her
little side chapel. I walked through the corridors of the shattered
seminary, where for many years young Frenchmen had walked
silently, listening to the voice of the Spirit of God, forming them for
the work of the holy ministry. The young men who should now be
here were in the trenches, clad in the light-blue uniform of the
soldiers of France.
Not far from the seminary, in the basement of their shattered
convent, lived two Poor Clare nuns who had remained to adore our
Divine Lord on the altar. I do not know how it had been arranged, but
there was Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament in that poor
cellar. Perhaps it was for this reason that the Canadians held Arras.
It was to these holy women of France that Father Sheehan made
many visits, carrying pieces of meat, rolls of bread, etc. The
quartermaster of the unit from which he drew rations was an
Irishman, and many of the lads gladly stinted themselves so that he
could lay by a little food for the Poor Clare Sisters at Arras.
Then, one day just after lunch, orders came to move. We were not
going very far away—only to the little village of Ecoivres at the base
of Mt. St. Eloi, about five or six kilometers distant. I stayed with
Father Sheehan for tea, and at four o’clock left alone for Ecoivres. I
had never been there before, but Father Sheehan had given me
minute directions and I knew I would have no difficulty finding the
large chateau of the village.
I had not gone more than a mile on my way when I noticed shells
dropping into many of the little villages that lay scattered over the
green countryside before me. I must pass through two of these
villages before arriving at my destination. I suspected some big
attack on the part of the Germans, as it was their invariable custom
to shell heavily the back areas In order to prevent us from bringing
up fresh troops. As I was revolving in my mind how pleasant it was
going to be for me to run the gauntlet of fire, I heard the terrifying
shriek of a shell, and as I turned, was just in time to see a great
black shell burst only a few feet behind me. A group of men had
been standing on the roadside but not one was hit. I stood for a few
moments dazed by the suddenness of it all, my ears ringing from the
terrible explosion, while teams drawing general service wagons
galloped noisily by and men ran like startled hares towards points of
safety. Presently I continued my walk, every nerve tense, expecting
another shell-burst. None came, however.
I passed through the two villages and no shell dropped near me till I
came to the outskirts of Ecoivres, then shell after shell came
screaming through the air, exploding in the high bank that sloped up
from the roadside. A few soldiers coming behind me on bicycles
dismounted and crouched low as each one tore its way across our
road. I felt sick, dazed and frightened and whenever the others
crouched, I did also; but we reached the little town in safety.
I passed the church, which was untouched, though many stone
buildings about it were almost completely demolished. Then I came
into the court before the chateau, where a great number of soldiers
were quartered.
It was an old chateau, the ancestral home of a long line of French
counts, which had been commandeered early in the war. The
present owner, however, still had a room or two allotted to him. I
went up an old winding stairway and walked from the landing along
the hall till I came to a great wide room where a number of officers of
different battalions of my brigade stood talking in little groups. They
greeted me with true military friendliness, but I could see that they
were restless and ill at ease. Fritz had struck again and broken the
British line, taking many prisoners and great quantities of supplies.
And as the officers talked, shells screamed into the village.
Just before dinner George came to the mess and his face lighted up
when he saw me. He had come before me by a different route, and
some of his companions—although none of our own brigade—had
been killed, together with a number of horses. There was in
George’s eye that hurt, dazed look that I was to see so often in the
eyes of men when the shells screamed by and took toll of their
companions. George told me I was to be billeted in a large room with
a number of other officers. While he was speaking, however, the
billeting officer joined us to say that he had a fine billet for me; it was
a little hut outside in the grounds. It had been reserved for the
colonel, but as he wished to remain in the chateau, the billeting
officer, remembering that I preferred, when possible, to have a billet
alone, so that the men might the more easily come to see me, had
given me the little hut.
After dinner, which was late that evening, I went down through the
chateau grounds, crossed a bridge over a small river that ran
through them and followed the road until I came to a little burlap hut
built on the river bank under the willow trees, that had just hung out
their fresh green draperies. And as I stood surveying my billet, I
became aware that the shelling had ceased; the stars were coming
out; just the faintest rustle sounded among the tree-tops; there was a
very pleasant tinkle and gurgle from the running water; from all
around the wide green grounds came the low murmur of talking from
groups of soldiers bivouacked here and there under the trees.
George came up presently with four or five letters and a box of
caramels that had come with the Canadian mail. It was one of those
strange interludes that came fairly often during the campaign, when
one actually forgot for a little while war and its gruesomeness.
In the morning, after a very pleasant night’s sleep by the softly
running waters, I went down to the parish church to say Mass. The
curé was a large man and very kind; evidently the billeting officer
had tried to place me with him, for he took great pains to explain to
me that his house was extremely small, and already it was full on
account of the presence of some of his relations who had been
evacuated from the Arras area.
I told the curé how pleasantly I was situated, and that the softly
running water had sent me to sleep. He smiled, helped me to put on
my vestments and then served my Mass. After Mass, as I made my
thanksgiving before the altar, I noticed on the Gospel side a large
alcove. In it were five or six prie-dieux, and a communion rail ran the
width of it. It was somewhat similar to a box in a theatre. On the wall
in the alcove opposite to where I knelt was a large copper slab
bearing the inscription:
To the Memory of
M. Edward Mary Alexander
Viscount of Brandt of Calometz
Died in his castle of Ecoivres
the 9th. October 1894
R. I. P.
I concluded that this was the part of the church where the people of
the chateau came to assist at Mass in the old days before France
printed on her coins “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.” I saw the
present owner of the estate a few days later, and I wondered if he
sat in the alcove to assist at Mass on Sundays. He was a tall, heavily
built man in old rough clothes, and looked more like a laborer one
would see sitting idly about the docks. He had a large, heavy red
face and a thick black mustache. When I saw him first he stood
facing a pointed bayonet—though he kept at least three feet from the
point—and an angry sentry at the entrance to the chateau was telling
him in English that he could not enter. The owner of the chateau, still
more angry than the guard, shouted in French that he would enter;
that these were his grounds, though his manner of putting in practice
his words resembled more the advancing of a horse on a treadmill. I
was about to offer my services as interpreter and general peace-
maker when an officer approached the angry guard and told him that
it was the owner of the chateau whom he was keeping from entering.
The guard sprang to attention, and as the angry owner entered his
grounds looked after him sheepishly. “Well, Holy Moses!” he
exclaimed.
 Chapter LXII
Ecurie Wood

I had expected to stay at Ecoivres for Sunday, and I had arranged

with the curé for the soldiers’ Mass, but on Saturday orders came for
us to move to Ecurie Wood. It was not very far away, about three
miles. My billet here was a corrugated iron hut, barricaded without on
all sides with sand-bags piled about three feet high and two wide.
There was no floor other than the natural earth. The seat of a
general service wagon, that very likely had succumbed to Fritz’s
shelling, had been converted into a very serviceable chair; on a high
bedding of mud and rocks was placed horizontally an empty five-
gallon gasoline tin, from which pointed heavenwards, through the
low roof, some homemade stove pipe. There was no door on this
improvised stove. When I entered the hut a fire of charcoal and small
pieces of wood glowed in the opening of the tin, which the chair
faced. There was no church near us, but there was a large moving-
picture hut just about two hundred yards away where Mass was said
on Sundays; and only fifty yards from this was a small square tent,
with the words “Catholic Chapel” painted in black on it, where a
priest was on duty every evening to hear confessions. As there was
no church near where the Blessed Sacrament was reserved, I now
began to carry Our Lord with me. On Monday I consecrated about
two hundred particles in my small military ciborium, and always, day
and night, in the pocket of my tunic was the little ciborium where
Jesus dwelt. And in the evenings I used to go down to the chapel-
tent, place the ciborium on a corporal spread out on the rough board
table and, saying a short prayer, sit on an empty box to hear the
confessions of the men who came. We were in a very exposed
territory and shells were continuously dropping into our area.
Sometimes the shells would come so near us that I would sit on my
box, or kneel before the Blessed Sacrament, trembling, expecting
each moment to be my last.
A great number of men were assembling in the Ecurie Wood area,
and I began to meet many old friends. Some of the lads who had
come overseas with me were in battalions quartered nearby; and just
over the hill, in the military cemetery of Roclincourt, Lt. Lawlor, one of
my Catholic officers and a very gallant soldier, slept softly under his
white cross.
The work at Ecurie Wood was very consoling: wonderful things
happened in that little white chapel-tent. One night a great giant of a
man stepped in, and without any introduction said, simply: “Father, I
want to be christened.” I could not help laughing, for in my mind
always associated with the word “christen” were thoughts of tiny,
white-clad helpless babies being carried to the baptismal font. But
the big giant did not laugh. It was a very serious matter for him.
I asked him to which religion he belonged. He said he belonged to
none, but that his people had been Presbyterians. I commenced
instructions and in a short time I had the great pleasure of baptizing
him in the little tent.
Sometimes men would come back to the sacraments after years of
absence, and it was wonderful to watch the effects of Divine Grace
in their souls. Often they would come back to the tent to have a chat
and to speak of some fellow with whom they were trying to share
their own great happiness. Frequently a returned prodigal would say
to me: “Now, Father, I have a lad outside who hasn’t been to his
duties for many years. I got him to come down tonight. I’m just telling
you this, Father, for he’s got the ‘wind up’ pretty bad, but I know
you’ll take him easy, Father.” Then perhaps a big, slow moving,
puzzled figure would step into the tent, looking around mystified, not
knowing what to do next. Then I would beckon him to come and
kneel down, and then—I would “take him easy.”
One night, when I was sitting on my box, a large one placed near
me, against which the men might kneel when telling their little story,
a man came rushing in and knelt so suddenly that he knocked over
the larger box, and then fell on it as it reached the ground.
I stood up quickly, taking off my purple stole as I did so, and as the
poor fellow got slowly up I said: “What’s the matter? What’s the
matter?”
He looked at me in a dazed sort of way, and then over his shoulder
towards the open flap of the tent. “I’m willing to go, Father,” he said.
“I think you’re a little too eager to go,” I said. “There’s no need, you
know, to knock over that box. I put that there for men to kneel
against.”
“Well,” he replied, “I’m willing to go, but I want a little time to get
ready. It’s a long time since I was here before, and I need a little time
to overhaul my mind.”
I could not help laughing, though I felt there was something wrong
somewhere. “Well,” I said, “what made you come in if you were not
prepared?”
Again he looked over his shoulder, and as he did the truth began to
dawn upon me. “Father,” he said, “I was pushed in.”
“Kneel down,” I said, “and take all the time you need, and when you
are ready just call me. I am going outside for a while.”
I went out and in a few minutes three figures came noiselessly over
to where I was standing. “Is he going to go, Father?” one of them
asked. “He is,” I replied, “but he needs a little time to prepare. Why
did you send—I should say push—him in before he was ready to
go?”
They then told me that it was fifteen years since the man had been
to confession, and that he had been bragging about not having been
there for that length of time. One of the number had told him three
days before to prepare and on account of this they had thought him
ready to go.
I think, on the whole, these lay apostles did excellent work; still, now
and then, there was an example of perhaps too great zeal. Father
Miles Tompkins relates a story which perhaps showed a little
overzeal. He was walking with Father McGillvary one day up and
down before a little church of a village where troops were quartered
when he noticed three khaki-clad figures coming towards them. His
first thought was that some poor fellow had imbibed too freely of “vin
blink”—the soldiers’ name for the white wine—and that two
charitable comrades were escorting him to his billet. When, however,
the soldiers drew nearer, he saw that the man was not intoxicated,
though somewhat indignant at being hustled so unceremoniously by
two comrades who did not bear the insignia of military police. When
they were within speaking distance Father Tompkins asked one of
the escort what was the matter. “Father,” they said, as they looked at
their struggling victim, “this fellow wants to go to confession.”
“Well,” said Father Tompkins, “he does not look very much as if he
wanted to go!”
 Chapter LXIII
The Different Dispensers

The Thirteenth and Fifteenth Battalions were at Anzin, a small village

about three kilometers distant from Ecurie Wood. There was a little
brick church here with a great hole through the base of its tower. I
used to go down there on my bicycle early Sunday mornings and
hear confessions while Father Pickett, of the First Divisional Artillery,
said Mass for my lads. Then I would ride back to Ecurie Wood and
say Mass at half-past ten for the Fourteenth and Sixteenth. There
were now three other priests quartered at Ecurie Wood and these
would hear confessions during my Mass. In the evenings the priests
would assemble in my hut—for, it seemed, I had the best billet in the
area—and talk over many things. It was not often so many chaplains
were together, and I, for one, enjoyed these pleasant evenings in the
little hut before the blazing fire. It was a very dangerous area,
however; shells were dropping all over the camp and there was great
loss of life. One morning on awakening from a very sound sleep a
shell came shrieking through the air, then the deafening explosion as
it struck just outside my hut. I waited, scarcely breathing, for the
next, but no more came. When I was dressed, I stepped off the
distance from my hut to where the shell had struck. It was just
thirteen steps. They were beginning to come very near!
Those gatherings of chaplains in my corrugated iron hut there on the
Western Front were unique. I often used to think of it in the evenings
as we talked, or when some chaplain read excerpts from a Canadian
paper that had come from home. It was this—that while we talked
away so casually about the ordinary daily affairs of the world, in the
pocket of every one present dwelt humbly Our Eucharistic Lord in his
little home, the ciborium.
One afternoon while I was sitting in my hut, alternately reading my
book and looking into the fire, a knock sounded on the door and a
young officer walked in, smiling broadly. He was a lieutenant in the
artillery. I had known him when he was a little boy and I was in senior
philosophy at college. I had not seen him for ten years till I met him
at the front. After we had talked for a while, he asked me if he could
go to confession.
I put on my purple stole and sat down on the large general service
wagon seat, while he knelt down on the earth floor—over which at
times I saw worms moving—and he began his little tale. Often, in our
old college days, when I was walking slowly on the track of the
athletic field he had come running up quickly behind me, given me a
punch on the back, and then had skipped ahead of me, smiling
pleasantly as he waited for me to catch up to him. Now he knelt
humbly on the earth and confessed his sins, and I, with all the
powers of the priesthood, absolved him!
It was with great joy in my heart that I arranged my little portable
altar on a box, spread out the clean white corporal and gave him
Holy Communion.
After I had closed the altar and the young lieutenant had finished his
thanksgiving, we sat on the seat. He was the first to speak. “Father,”
he said, “these are strange times we are living in.”
I agreed with him, and among other things thought of the shell that
had dropped just thirteen steps from where we sat; but he was not
thinking of shells.
“Three weeks ago,” he said, “I was in Rome on leave, and on Easter
Sunday all the Catholic officers in the city had permission to assist at
Mass in the Sistine Chapel and receive Holy Communion from the
hand of Pope Benedict XV, amidst great splendor and solemnity.
Today, kneeling on the earth, I received Our Lord in this little
corrugated iron hut on the Western Front!”
I did not speak for awhile; some strange emotion held me silent as I
visualized the two scenes. Easter in Rome, in one of the most
beautiful chapels in the world, the Pope in the richest vestments,
assisted by many priests, giving Holy Communion. Then, a small,
dark hut, with not even a window in it, and no covering over the clay
floor, the priest in a wrinkled khaki uniform and heavy trench boots,
his only vestment a small white stole worn over his tunic—yet, in
each case Jesus had come to the young officer!
 Chapter LXIV
Incapacitated

The work at Ecurie Wood was most consoling, but the shelling was
incessant and we were having many funerals in the military cemetery
down the hill at Roclincourt. The Fourteenth Battalion suffered most.
Early one morning a shell burst in the headquarters hut, wounding
the colonel, killing the second in command and the adjutant, and
disabling other officers and privates. The whole camp was under
observation and Fritz was doing deadly work.
One Sunday morning, as I prepared for the Holy Sacrifice, I seemed
to feel much better than I had felt for some time; and as I preached,
the words came quickly and without any great effort. I wondered why
I should feel so well. But after Mass, as I walked back to my hut after
having seen so many of those wonderful lads receive Holy
Communion, I raised my hand to my forehead; it was very warm and
the day was cool—in fact, a fine mist of rain was falling. I now began
to feel slightly dizzy and more inclined to rest on my camp bed than
to drink my cup of tea.
George came in, looked at me once, placed the cup of tea beside
me on the seat, looked at me again, and then told me I didn’t look
very well. I told him I did not feel very well. Both agreed that I would
be better in bed, so I went.
The corporal of the stretcher-bearers came in, shook his little
thermometer, looked at it, shook it again, then told me to open my
mouth. He placed it under my tongue. Then, while I looked at the
ceiling of the hut, he waited.
“One hundred and two,” said the corporal.
“Is that high?” I asked, for I could not remember ever having my
temperature taken before.
“High enough,” he said. Then he told me I had a malady that was
becoming very prevalent in the army. He did not know what to call it.
Later, it was called the “flu.”
I remained in bed for nearly a week, and it was one of the finest
weeks I spent in the army; so many officers and men came into the
little hut to see me. I was just beginning to understand the charity of
the army.
Just as I was getting about again the Fifty-first Division of Scotch
Highlanders came into our area. This was the division that had met
almost every advance of the enemy, so that even the Germans
themselves could not but admire them. A sergeant in one of the
battalions of the division possessed a paper for which he had
refused six pounds: for the paper had been dropped into their lines
from a German airplane, and this is what was written on it: “Good old
Fifty-first still sticking it! Cheerio!”
 Chapter LXV
Anzin and Monchy Breton

The Fifty-first “took over” from us and we went to Anzin. Here it was
much quieter and the battalion prepared to rest. I took charge of the
village church, for I was the only chaplain in the area. The first day I
swept it out and dusted the altar and sanctuary rail. The next
morning I said Mass, and after Mass a little sanctuary lamp twinkled
softly before the altar. The Guest had come!
There was a beautiful statue of Our Lady in the church, and as it was
her month I decorated it as well as I could. A long walk by the
Scarpe River, which flowed its narrow though very pretty way
through Anzin, brought me to the grounds of what had once been a
very fine country residence, now terribly battered from shell-fire. The
road that led to it sloped up from the river, and as I walked along it,
this beautiful May day, from the dark recesses of the trees came the
repeated solitary call of the cuckoo. I stopped to listen. The whole
countryside seemed very quiet and peaceful, save for the faint
rumble, from far away, of our guns.
Though the grounds were pitted in different places with old shell-
holes, many flowers grew in the garden. I picked some white lilacs,
although the season for these was now growing late, and a large
bunch of Parma violets. It was very quiet and still there in the old
French garden, but I could hear German shells whining through the
air and dropping in a little village not very far away.
Somewhere along the line battles were being fought, and I supposed
the British were losing ground and that many men were being taken
prisoners. Up to this time we Canadians had not lost any men as
prisoners and had given no ground except a mile in depth near
Neuville-Vitasse when we found ourselves placed in a very