St Francis Xavier Academy - Xavier Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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Several weeks had elapsed since Father Rio saw his little friend, but one morning when passing her home, he saw one of the servants and asked, “What’s become of Rosebud ?” The servant said that she was very ill and the doctor had pronounced her case hopeless. “But she is forever saying that Jesus is waiting for her in the chapel.” Father Rio at once started to visit Rosebud but at his entrance, the nurse told him that she had left Rosebud for a few minutes and when she returned, the bed was vacant. They thought that the little one could not go far because she was so weak. Suddenly Father Rio thought that she might be in the chapel. So in great haste he made his way, and there, at the foot of the Sacred Heart statue, lay a little figure clad in a long white robe, fast in sleep. The tender little feet were covered with blood from wounds caused by the rough stones of the road. But love is more powerful than death, and so it gave the little child strength to reach the goal of her desires. One glance at the child fully convinced the priest that her last moments were at hand. He thought that she could not pass from this world without baptism, so, quickly the water was poured over her head and the sacred words pronounced. The child’s weary eyelids opened, a happy smile lit up the features, and Rosebud passed from this world to the arms of the Sacred Heart, which were open to her. Her bonquet to the Sacred Heart was her own pure life, a rare but most welcome offering. Elizabeth D. DateT. 30

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LITTLE ROSEBUD IT was the day previous to the feast of the Sacred Heart, a feast which was always celebrated with great fervor in a little village in the southern part of Maryland. Reverend Father Rio, the pastor of this small parish, had been hearing confessions nearly all day, and was now kneeling alone in the little chapel. Suddenly he heard a door open back of him and close with a bang. Turning around, he saw a little child of about five years standing at the entrance looking about in great bewilderment. Father Rio, who was always fond of little children, went down the aisle to speak a few kind words, “My little one, where did you come from ?” “From home,” was the reply, and two beautiful blue eyes looked confidingly up to the priest. “But where do you live ?” “Oh, right next door ; I crawled through the hedge.” Just then a thought came to Father Rio that he had seen a child playing on the beautiful green lawn in front of the summer residence and now he recogni .ed that the child to whom he was speaking was the same one. I must tell you that this child’s mother was dead and her father, being a great business man, did not seem to have time to take care of the child. Her only companion was her nurse. Father Rio smiled and shook his head saying, “What is your name, dear child ?” “Rosebud,” she replied. “You see my real name is Rose, but, as I am so small, they call me Rosebud.” After looking about in her innocent childlike way she asked, “Who is that?” pointing to a statue of the Sacred Heart. The priest asked Rosebud if she would like to go and visit “Jesus.” She consented and looking at the statue with great interest asked, “Why does He hold His hands out so ? Does He want anything from me ?” “Certainly,” replied the priest, “you ought to give him your little heart and what you love best.” After a few moments of deep thinking, little Rosebud asked, if Jesus liked flowers, for she liked them very much, and would present Him with a bouquet. 29

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CLASS POEM The year has gone—the last one We shall spend at this loved school ; But treasured memories linger Of each scene, each day, each rule. For four short years we’ve studied— Four years? they seem but one ! We fold our books with sadness ; The high school tasks are done. For three years we looked forward When we should be seniors all; But senior year receding, We’d fain the past recall. We thirteen were so happy, We sped the time ; and yet We’ve studied hard and striven, And we have no regret. We go forth to life’s duty— Oh, may we e’er be true To Alma Mater’s teachings That she our years may view ! We say farewell in sorrow To teachers, school, and friends ; But we are bound in union That in life never ends. 31 Laura Costei.i.o.