Near our quarters was a Catholic church, attended by the ------
Fathers. I early made the acquaintance of one of them, who was
popularly known as Father _Friday_, this being the nearest approach to
the pronunciation of his peculiar German name to which the majority of
the people could arrive. In him I recognized my ideal of a Christian
gentleman, and as such I still revere his memory.
He was one of the handsomest men I ever saw--tall and of splendid
physique, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and a complexion naturally
fair, but bronzed by the sun. Though in reality he was as humble and
unassuming as any lay-brother in his community, his bearing was simply
regal.
He could not have helped it any more than he could help the impress of
nobility upon his fine features. The youngsters used to enjoy seeing
him pass the contribution box in church at special collections. It
must have been "an act" (as you convent girls say, Pollie). He would
move along in his superb manner, looking right over the heads of the
congregation, and disdaining to cast a glance at the "filthy lucre"
that was being heaped up in the box which from obedience he carried.
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