The Teresian Diaries

By Mary Louise Wholean

In 1904, when Mary Louise Wholean was a student at Wellesley College, her interest in foreign mission was stirred by a talk Father James Anthony Walsh, director of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith in Boston, gave in a neighboring parish. She spoke with him afterwards, but she did not maintain contact, resuming it only in August 1911 when she was already employed as a teacher in her hometown of Westfield, MA. She asked him if there were any way in which she could serve the cause of mission. He was quick to respond to her earnest self-offering and to invite her to Boston for an interview.

Upon meeting Fr. Walsh again, Mary Louise was surprised to learn both of the existence of his mission magazine, "The Field Afar," and of the establishment of the Catholic Foreign Mission Society of America on June 29 that very year. Fr. Walsh was pleased to offer her the opportunity to serve, but regretted that he could offer no assurance whatsoever that she would ever be a missionary Sister. Mary Louise was satisfied under any conditions.

On January 1, 1912, she was joined by two other women, Sara Sullivan and Mary Dwyer who were also eager to dedicate themselves to the cause of mission through Fr. Walsh's enterprise. They began with a retreat together at the Cenacle in New York City, an experience which bonded them as the pioneer women of Maryknoll. From the Cenacle, they proceeded by train to Hawthorne, New York, the temporary site for the new foreign mission seminary.

As early as March 1912, Mary Louise became ill with cancer. Although offered the option to return home, she chose to stay with the group and to contribute her services for as long as she could, and that would be to within two months of her death at the age of 35 at St. Teresa's Lodge on Sunset Hill in Ossining, NY on February 19, 1917. How deeply she was appreciated is noted in the obituary in "The Field Afar" and in the homily Fr. Walsh gave at her Mass of Christian Burial, both included in the Diary.

It was perhaps Mary Louise's instinct for history that moved her to keep a daily log. The charming wit she brought to each day's entry makes for enjoyable reading, at once informative and instructive about the early days which were anything but romantic. These women lived by faith, a faith they passed on liberally to all who followed after, and which constitutes the solid rock on which the Maryknoll Sisters Congregation is built.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098337360

Book preview

Print ISBN: 978-1-09833-735-3

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09833-736-0

Copyright 2020 Mary Louise Wholean

by Maryknoll Sisters, New York, USA

All rights reserved.

On the cover:

Top: L-R Mary Augustine Dwyer, Sara Teresa Sullivan, Mary Louise Wholean, 1912

Bottom: St. Teresa’s Lodge, October 1912

Cover design by Sister Joanna Chan, M.M.

In memory of the women

on whose shoulders

the Maryknoll Sisters stand

and without whom

there would be no story to tell.

Contents

FOREWORD

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

1912

APPENDIX—1912

1913

APPENDIX—1913

1914

APPENDIX—1914

1915

APPENDIX—1915

1916

APPENDIX—1916

EULOGY PREACHED BY FATHER SUPERIOR

THE SEQUEL TO THE PREQUEL

FOREWORD

A Diary is a most precious possession. It opens a window into the hopes and secret desires of the writer’s heart, all the big and little things of one’s experience and the people who have carved a place into their life.

What you are holding right now is a most precious possession that chronicles the beginning story of the Maryknoll Sisters – first known as Teresians – as told through the eyes and heart of Mary Louise Wholean. She kept a record of those early days when any future thought of women going to the foreign missions was a distant dream in the lives of the first women who came to Hawthorne on that special January 6, 1912 day—and those who followed.

Through the painstaking work of Sister Claudette LaVerdiere, we now have this precious diary in our hands. The entries of Mary Louise Wholean give us a glimpse into the very early days of Maryknoll – days filled with illness and uncertainty, joys and sorrows, comings and goings and the growing dream that one day they could actually go and serve the missionary effort in the field afar.

But before the story of the Teresians unfolds, what is most astonishing is the work of the Holy Spirit entering the hearts of two women – Mary Louise Wholean and Mary Josephine Rogers. Both of these women felt in their hearts the desire to do something for the missions as a result of their encounter with their Protestant student friends who were on fire for the missions. The story of Mary Josephine Rogers is familiar to the Maryknoll Sisters but not so that of Mary Louise Wholean. In the Appendix to the entries for 1916, we find the story of Mary Louise as told by Fr. Walsh in the eulogy he gave at her funeral. He said that Mary Louise wrote to him declaring: I don’t know why I have come, or what I can do; but something has been urging me for several years to give my life-work to the interest of the foreign missions.

These pages – recording the years from 1912-1916 – are filled with footnotes, rich appendices and The Sequel to the Prequel that whet our appetites – we are led into the experience of how the Teresians began to weave together the beginning threads of their common life that would bind and give shape to the tapestry of the soon to be born Maryknoll Sisters. We are able to experience what bound them together and gave shaped to this new community of women wholly dedicated to what was then called the foreign missions. Their life together and commitment to the work of the foreign missions was rooted in a deep faith in God and what God was doing in their lives. The threads of service (both when convenient and inconvenient, joy, meals together, family, friends, guests, courtesy, zeal for the missions, loyalty and love of ice cream (!!) permeate these pages.

Through these daily entries, we meet those who encouraged and helped those early seers of the future through friendship, encouragement, monetary help and belief in what they were doing. We are introduced to Mother Alphonsa, OP, Miss Ward, Cardinal Farley, and Fr. McNicholas, OP among others and the part each played in the story unfolding on the nearby banks of the Hudson River. We are privy to the love that the Teresians had for Fr. James Anthony Walsh and Mary Josephine Rogers (Mollie). We are also privy to the reality that as they grew in awareness of the challenges of community life, Mary Joseph as their directress, would gather them together from time to time to set out a work or prayer schedule or to admonish them on certain areas of their community life that was in need of attention.

We live in very different times but as we ponder their beginnings we see clearly that the threads that enabled them to stay together and work tirelessly for the field afar continue to form the common life and mission of Maryknoll Sisters today.

These Diaries are an invitation into the exciting and hope-filled story of how God’s purpose for the world was brought to light by ordinary people doing extraordinary things. So, please settle down and allow the grace in these pages to wash over you. They reveal the experience of all that God has done in our midst through the courage and vision of the first women of Maryknoll.

Sister Antoinette Gutzler, MM

President of the Maryknoll Sisters

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

Before ever there was a Maryknoll Sisters Congregation, there were three women – Mary Louise Wholean, Sara Sullivan, and Mary Augustine Dwyer – all of whom had thrown in their lot with the Co-founders of Maryknoll – Fathers James Anthony Walsh and Thomas Fredrick Price. Although the priests were deeply grateful for the women’s invaluable services, they could give them no assurance whatsoever that there was a future for them in this enterprise.

These are the women on whose shoulders we stand, the women who trusted and believed against all odds, that God would show them the way. And so they diligently kept a diary of the happenings, first at Hawthorne and then in Ossining, literally laying the foundation stones of faith, hope and charity, day by day, for a religious community they hoped would someday come to be.

Of the three, it was Mary Louise Wholean who wrote the daily log. There is no record that she was asked to do it. Was it an intuition that led her to start, or was it prompted by Father Walsh’s keen eye for posterity? We do not know. But we are blessed to have five small black notebooks in which she duly recorded — in her charming style and generally legible script – the events of each day. She tells us that in February 1912 Mollie Rogers visited Hawthorne and she relates the impact Mollie had on the women when they first met her. They so hoped she would join them soon. Nora Shea came in April 1912, and Mollie returned to stay in September, along with young Margaret Shea, to see what God had in store for them. Ann Agnes Towle arrived in October, in the midst of the big move from Hawthorne to Maryknoll’s permanent home on Sunset Hill. And then there were seven. But the story is best left for Mary Louise to tell.

At this point, I would like to say what prompted the renewal of the five volumes of the Teresian Diaries – 1912 to 1916. We already had them as typed manuscripts, but the format on legal-size, cyclostyled pages made for ponderous reading. By and large, the Diaries had remained on the shelf. Few Sisters suspected the existence of the treasure we had.

In 2011 the Centennial Committee endeavored to make the Diaries available and as reader-friendly as possible. To that end, Full Circle member, Eleanor Swanson who was on the Centennial committee, re-typed the entire manuscript on a computer. It proved too big a project to complete in time for the Centennial. Even when Eleanor finished her colossal task, there still remained the necessary proof-reading over against the originals in Archives. When I returned to the Center in mid-2017 to work on the legacy of Mother Mary Joseph Rogers, it was at this point in the project that I stepped in to move it forward.

Although the original typing of the Diaries had been very well done, Eleanor, who typed from them, exercised a keen eye for discrepancies, irregularities in spelling and the like, greatly facilitating my task. Quite apart from the ordinary inaccuracies, within the Diaries were notes on conferences, homilies, and retreats, inserted whenever and wherever they occurred. To avoid interrupting the flow of the story, I placed them in an Appendix at the end of each volume. When See Appendix appears in the daily log, the reader knows that there is a talk in the Appendix on the same date. In a few instances, the notes were so short that I left them within the body of the Diary. Indeed, all the instructions that Mother Stanislaus, IHM, gave the Teresians from 1914 to 1916 were left in the Diary itself for these two reasons, that they were brief and that they dealt specifically with the daily life of the Teresians.

I made some additions to the Appendix, inserting letters and information to make connections that fill in the background. Those headings are in bold type to call attention to the fact that they were not in the original. Also added in the Diaries are a number of footnotes that serve especially to make culture-bound material accessible to all readers. I drew upon external sources such as Wikipedia and the dictionary for broad background information about people, events, places, expressions, and definitions that may be unfamiliar, for example, Carla Wenckebach, Home Rule Bill, Sherman Park, 57 Varieties, Gregorian chant, and so forth.

A few notes of caution are in order. As we read the Diaries, it is important to remember that inclusive language was not an issue in the early part of the 20th century. It seemed also natural then to capitalize the pronouns for God more regularly than we do now. In all these instances, the original has been retained. What I have attempted to regularize was the inconsistent use of British and American spelling and usage. In this new issue of the Diaries, rather than continue with some of each, I have attempted to maintain current standard American.

Sometimes in the Diaries, people not previously introduced are mentioned and it was not always possible to identify them. There are a couple of entries that were obviously inside jokes. For example, March 20, 1916 refers to Mary Joseph’s twin, when one of the Teresians was apparently impersonating her in fun. Instances of this nature may raise questions that remain unanswered for us. But the Teresians also had questions of their own, as is indicated by the question marks that appear in the text, all of them in the original.

I have added a few photos, particularly of people who were very influential in the early days. Many of the same photos, and many others besides, appear in Theresa Baldini, M.M. and Madeline McHugh, M.M., Mollie’s Legacy of Love, 2014, and in Camilla Kennedy, M.M., To the Uttermost Parts of the Earth, 1980, both books precious resources for our history. In the 1916 Diary, the entry for May 30 lists the fifteen Teresians—the total number to date—together with the religious names they chose. A picture of this group is included among the photos. I point this out because there are undoubtedly a number of Sisters who remember these elder pioneers.

In addition to my gratitude for Eleanor Swanson’s work, I owe my heartfelt thanks also to Sister Joanna Chan, M.M., world-class artist and playwright, who designed the cover that graces this volume. She also painstakingly enhanced each of the photos, gave me invaluable advice and encouragement, and generously offered technical assistance especially in the end-stages as the volume moved toward publication.

I offer my sincere thanks also to Jennifer Halloran, Director of Maryknoll Mission Archives, together with her staff, Jessica DiSilvestro, Kathryn Spicer, and Stephanie Conning, the Photo Archivist. These women left no stone unturned to meet my every request, no matter how obscure, and they made the work most pleasant.

Finally, because Latin has fallen into disuse–we are so much less familiar with it than we used to be–Latin phrases and hymn titles have been translated. For this work, I am indebted to two trusty experts, Sister Betty Ann Maheu, M.M. and Fr. Kevin Hanlon, M.M.

Since the Diary does not extend to the actual founding of the Congregation, I have added two pages to bridge the gap, to give the reader a window on the Teresians’ future.

Lastly, I wish everyone good reading. May the errors you note—mine of course—not be too many or too distracting. As we befriend the women who led the way, models of faith and trust in their perseverance, may we readily see God’s hand in the formation of our Congregation as we, too, stand on the threshold of a future that will continue to unfold in our steadfast living of faithful love.

Claudette LaVerdiere, MM, Editor, 2020

"And as happens so often when we stop to regard God’s work,

there is nothing to do

but

wonder and thank God,

realizing how little we planned,

how little we achieved,

and

yet how much has been done."

Mother Mary Joseph Rogers, 1936

From Secretaries to Maryknoll Sisters, The Field Afar, June 1936, p. 184.

1912

January 1, 1912

We met at the Cenacle in New York – Mary Louise Wholean, Mary Augustine Dwyer, and Sara Teresa Sullivan¹ — and began a short retreat before taking up our work at Hawthorne. We were strangers to each other and differed in age, training and disposition, but we had been brought together and were henceforth to be united by the common desire of serving the cause of the foreign missions. During these days we were under the direction of Mother Filippi, who helped us gently over the unfamiliar paths of meditation and provided us with many a kindly word of counsel for the future. The retreat closed with a conference by Father Walsh, a talk which increased our sense of the importance of the undertaking and gave us definite and practical advice for our new life. As I look back now, from a distance of four months, upon this, our first conference, I realized especially the value of the exhortation to charity – a charity which should withhold us from criticizing each other even in thought. Surely this admonition has helped us not a little to live together not only without discord, but with content and joy.

January 6

It was on the Feast of the Epiphany that we left New York for Hawthorne. Once on the train, we felt that now indeed our hopes were to be realized, that we should not wake up and find that we had only dreamed of this opportunity to devote ourselves to the work that we had for so many years longed to do. But at the same time came the thought of the greatness of the undertaking and our own littleness. One moment we were filled with eagerness, the next, we were almost overcome with awe, and then – Hawthorne, Hawthorne, shouted the conductor, and looking out the window, we saw Father waiting for us.

We walked through the little village until we came to a cottage perched on the top of a snowy terrace – Maryknoll,² our new home. At the door we were welcomed by Father Lane³ and a moment later Father Price came to greet us. Then we looked around. Uncovered floors, bare tables, cheerless rooms in which the furniture had been stacked, not arranged, and over all the failing light of a cold, midwinter sun. I do not know what the others thought but I know that I almost stopped thinking for a while and merely repeated over and over the words that Father had given us for a motto, For God and souls. Somehow I had not realized that we were not going into a ready-made house, all furnished and settled and waiting to receive us, and I had never before faced the prospect of bringing order out of disorder in household matters. The motto worked its magic, however, and when some minutes later, I found myself making beds, however unskillfully, it had in some way sung itself into a joyful refrain.

About this time supplies of bread began to pour in upon us. The table was already well laden when Father Price brought in an armful and we had scarcely stowed this away when a fresh supply arrived from the kind-hearted Dominican Sisters. Our generous friends had all been inspired with the same thought and welcomed us with the same gift. Undaunted, however, by the lack of variety in our provisions, our housekeeper, Sara, rose to the occasion and prepared our first meal. It consisted principally of creamed toast. Sometime that evening Nora Shea arrived from Boston. She had worked for several years in the Boston office and came to help us with her knowledge and experience. She, too, was devoted to the cause and would gladly have remained with us permanently, if she had not been needed at home.

January 7

The next day, Sunday, we went to early Mass at the Dominican Chapel, a tiny place, so small that we seemed very near Our Lord. At Communion we knelt on the altar steps. There was not even a railing to separate us from Him. As the days went by, I grew to love this little chapel more and more. The next best thing to having the Blessed Sacrament under our own roof was to have It so close to us.

January 8

Monday marked the arrival of Mary Powell, our first cook. We watched her as she came panting up the steps and thought she might be a caricature come to life, for she had all the marks of the employment agency type – her eyes were crossed, her nose turned up, she was huge of size, and on her head was a rakish little hat with a wispy feather falling over her ear. We looked and laughed from the safety of the second story. Then we went downstairs and welcomed her with unfeigned joy, glad that our brief struggle with housekeeping was over.

The next weeks were filled with work. The office supplies, which had been moved from Boston, had to be unpacked and arranged in two rented rooms in the Hood house. At the same time our own house had to be put in order. Thoughtful care had provided all that we needed but our dwelling could not look homelike until things were unboxed and the rooms settled.⁴

January 15

On Monday, Father gave us the following horarium:

6:00 Rise

6:40 Prayers and Angelus

6:50 Leave for chapel

7:00 Mass

7:45-8:00 Prepare rooms

8:00 Breakfast

9:00 Report at office (begin work with Veni Creator)

10:30 Refection (5 minutes)

11:55 Close work with Sub tuum⁵

12:00 Short visit to chapel

12:20 Dinner and recreation

1:30 Leave for office

1:45 At office (Veni Creator)

4:00 Refection

5:30-6:30 Free time – silent – to be used for visit to Blessed Sacrament, Rosary, Stations, or other private devotion

6:30 Supper & recreation

8:30-9:00 Spiritual reading

9:00 Night prayers

9:45 Bed

Exceptions

Thursday afternoon and evening free.

Sundays

Rise at 6:45 Mass at 7:45

Benediction 3:30

Rest of time free

By this time the house was better settled and things were running along smoothly. Sara acted as housekeeper for the little family, Mary Augustine took charge of the office work and Mary Louise performed the duties of regulator.⁶ In the kitchen Mary Powell presided over a stove that would not bake, while our furnace was tended by Vincent, a French youth who occasionally understood what we tried to tell him. It was a cold winter, and though the furnace did its best, it could not always readily heat a house that was evidently built for summer use. We could be sure of comfort before the day was over, but we often ate breakfast with our coats on and sometimes sat on the radiator between courses. Vincent also pumped, first in the cellar and then outside. In spite of his exertions, however, there were times when water was scarce. Every morning when he had thawed out the frozen water in the pump, we lined up outside the door and filled the pitchers for our rooms and buckets for kitchen use. And every morning when he did not appear or went away without opening the pump, we carried our empty pitchers back again, after trying in vain to coax some water from the icy depths below.

January 26

Father Stanton⁷ of Stoughton, Mass., called at the office accompanied by his brother, a physician, Dr. Stanton, who after his return sent us a medicine case, a very thoughtful gift.

Sunday, January 28

Father Cothonay, Superior of the Dominican Fathers at Hawthorne (see Appendix), visited us and spoke very interestingly of his life as a missioner in Tonkin. He told us something of the opportunities and consolations enjoyed by missionary Sisters. He emphasized, too, the thought of the boundless gratitude that we owe to God for the blessing of being called to an apostolic life. This was his farewell message for he had been recalled by his Superiors at the very time when the Seminary that he had longed to see located in Hawthorne was about to be established. We regretted his departure deeply, for we had just begun to realize how valuable would have been the guidance and sympathetic interest of so true a missionary.

About this time Mary Powell, our star cook, announced that she would leave us for fields anew. For four weeks she had supplied us with all manner of good things that could be boiled, broiled, or fried – the stove still refused to bake. She had favored us also – in season and out of season – with side-splitting accounts of the many and varied experiences of her career. The wittiest ones usually came when we were trying to say the blessing before or after meals. The month, however, had proved too much for her. Perhaps she was discouraged by the stove, which, with all her cleaning, could not be induced to do its duty. Perhaps she was frozen out by the cold winds that whistled through the cracks of her unheated bedroom on the third floor, the Klondike as she called it. But we thought that the strongest reason for her flight was her fear of certain ghostly visitors which it was not given us to see – or hear. Look for the panel and There’s things in this house that you folks don’t know about were the mysterious maxims that she left with us. In the emergency Margaret Kelleher was asked to come and save us from a cookless kitchen. A friend of Fr. Cothonay’s, she was interested in foreign mission work and generously volunteered to give her services.

February 2

Father went to Boston to attend to the publishing of The Field Afar⁸ and for a week we were left orphans. During this time Father Price came often to see us. He was on one occasion beguiled into staying for supper, but he became so interested in what he was telling us of Lourdes and his dear little Saint Bernadette, that he quite forgot to eat. I’m not sure, however, that some of us were not in danger of forgetting it, too.

On Friday Father phoned to us from New York and we were so delighted at his return that we literally shouted for joy. Margaret, frightened at the shrieks, which had pierced even her deafness, came in to see if the house was on fire. She found Mary Augustine answering the phone, with someone else hanging over her shoulder in the attempt to get near enough the receiver to hear sounds, if not words. We went to the office in high spirits that morning but we were somewhat subdued when we returned at noon, for Father had asked us to see him separately that afternoon, for a half-hour each. Of course we were not afraid of him, but we didn’t know just what was going to happen. When, however, I who had been summoned first, found that the ordeal was nothing more than the kindest and most sympathetic of talks, I passed along the word, and the others went with less fear and trepidation.

February 18

On Sunday, Father gave us the first of a series of conferences on the Beatitudes. He also made some changes in the horarium. During Lent we were to rise ten minutes earlier and have a short meditation before Mass. We were to have silence during meals⁹ and reading at lunch and dinner. Silence was to be observed during our working hours also. In the evening from 8 to 8:30 we were to have selected reading preceding the regular spiritual reading. The books read were the following:

Lunch The Life of Christ

After lunch The Roman Martyrology

Dinner The Life of Cardinal Vaughan

After dinner The Imitation

8 – 8:30 Missionaries’ letters or instructions on the religious life

8:30 – 9:00 Life of Cardinal Vaughan

For our morning and evening prayers we had been using the Dominican Tertiaries’ Guide. We now used this for evening prayers only and took part of the morning prayers as found in the Mill Hill Manual. For meditation we used Cardinal Newman’s book, Meditations on Christian Doctrine.

On Ash Wednesday, when the new horarium went into effect, Mary Augustine took up the duties of regulator. Sara still continued as econome.

February 21

Wednesday was the first day of Lent. It was on this date that Fr. J. M. Fraser of Ningpo, China, visited the office and gave us an interesting talk on some Chinese customs and the works of his mission, especially those in charge of the Sisters. He was the first missioner from the field afar to visit us – and the first real live missioner I had ever seen. Is it any wonder that I waited in fear and trembling, lest he should go without giving us his blessing?

February 22

Mollie Rogers was with us for the 22nd and until the following Sunday. Though Sara was the only one who had met her previously, we had all heard through Father of her intense interest in the work and her untiring devotion to it. We knew, too, that she was prevented from joining us only by the fact that her assistance was necessary at home. We had felt from the beginning that she was one of us and so we truly were glad to have her with us for a few days in person as well as in spirit. Of course these days were happy ones. They could not be otherwise, brightened as they were by her merry good humor and sweetened by her constant self-forgetting helpfulness. We were as sorry to have her go as she was to leave us, and we resolved to pray with her that she might soon be able to come back and remain with us. We realized very keenly that any sacrifice that we might have been privileged to make in coming to Hawthorne was as nothing compared to her sacrifice in staying away.

February 23

On February 23rd there was great rejoicing when Father phoned us the good news that Cardinal Farley had promised $5000 for a burse for the new seminary.

The end of the month was marked by the departure of Margaret Kelliher and the arrival of Margaret Counihan. Margaret number one had been with us for four weeks, during which time we had been more favorably impressed with her good intentions than with her cooking. We were not sorry, therefore, to welcome Margaret number two, hoping that the days of raw chicken and burnt steak were past.

March

In the early part of March Msgr. Dunn, Diocesan Director of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith in New York, came to see us and was shown through the house. It was one of the days when Mary Augustine was ill in bed and Mary Louise¹⁰ was limping with a pain in her side. We hoped that he would come again soon, when we might convince him that Maryknoll Cottage was not a sanatorium.

On Thursday of the same week Father Caruana of Brooklyn called. Mary Augustine was still unwell. Mary Louise, however, was again walking on both feet, and was, with Sara, intensely interested in seeing and hearing our second visitor from afar. (Fr. Caruana was formerly secretary to Bishop Agnes in the Philippines.) On the same day we missed a visit from Mother Alphonsa, O.S.D. (Rose Hawthorne Lathrop), the founder of the cancer hospital which is situated on one of the hills of the village. Not finding us at home, she and her companion, Sr. Rose, left their calling cards in the form of a basketful of fresh eggs. (See Appendix.)

Thus the days slipped by, with nothing special to mark each one but with an abiding sense of happiness and gratitude to brighten them all. On Sundays Father Walsh, or in his absence, Father Lane, continued the instructions on the Beatitudes. We looked forward to these conferences from week to week and always thought each one more inspiring and more inspired than the last.

March 19

We ushered in the Feast of St. Joseph by sleeping for three quarters of an hour longer in the morning, as Mass was not said until 7:45. Mary Louise ushered it out by going to bed with the old pain, which had been severe during the preceding night and did not abate during the day.

This was the beginning of an experience wholly new to me. I had never, since I was a child, had to spend more than two days at a time in bed. Now one day followed another and the pain did not cease. I did not mind the physical suffering so much as the enforced inactivity and helplessness. Not only was I unable to do my part of the work; but I was even obliged to lie still and be waited on by others. The days were sometimes long but the nights were longer. In the daytime I often did some light work in bed and there was always the happiness of knowing that Father would come once or even twice to see me. But the hours of darkness were sometimes hours of trial, for sleep would not come and the pain became so intense that the slightest movement meant torture.

On Friday Miss Evers, a nurse, came from Ossining at Father’s request, and on Saturday Dr. Catherine Kelly of New York, a friend of Sara’s, came to try to find out the cause of the trouble. Both nurse and physician were most kind to their rebellious patient, who was often filled with terror by their mere appearance and was continually haunted by the fear of being sent to a hospital. Dr. Kelly came again the following week and ordered a continuation of the strenuous measures already prescribed. The diet of broth and mush, and mush and broth, was also left unchanged. I was to keep Lent whether I would or not.

Towards the end of the week there seemed at last to be an improvement and Thursday afternoon I was allowed to get up. Imagine, then, my surprise when, towards evening, I answered the phone, full of joy at the thought of the good report I could give and heard, I think you would better make up your mind to go to St. Vincent’s in the morning. The explanation followed – that it would be well to be under observation for a few days in order that the cause of the trouble might be discovered and a recurrence of the pain prevented – but I did not pay much heed to explanations. I only realized that I was to go to a hospital in New York the next day. Although I said, of course, that I would go, the voice that said it was rather faint, and a few minutes later it had fled altogether.

I worked until after twelve that night, trying to keep my mind busy, and then went to bed, only to wake up in a short time in such sharp pain that I called to Miss Evers to help me sit up in bed. I suffered less in this position and remained thus until morning.

Meantime Miss Evers had packed my suitcase and the girls, with their usual kindness, had helped me to get ready. Father had said that I could go to Mass in the morning if it was pleasant, and that, if it stormed, he would bring me Holy Communion. I had clung to this hope with all my strength, but it seemed for a while as if even this was to be denied me, for Friday proved to be a rainy day and Father himself was feeling too ill to come out. Things looked pretty dark when the girls went to Mass and I was left alone, but just then I thought that I might ask one of the Dominican Fathers to bring me Holy Communion. So it happened that Father La Flor came, in the midst of the rain and wind and mud.

It was the first time that Our Lord had ever come thus to me. It seemed as if He were conferring a very special favor upon me. He had surely heard my prayer that I might not have to undertake this journey alone. It seemed, too, as if I would always love our house, and especially my room, more than ever now, since it had been sanctified by His real presence. I did not know that I was not to return for several weeks and that, when I did return, it would not be to this house.

March 29

It was the 29th of March when I entered St. Vincent’s. Miss Evers, who had come with me, stayed until late in the afternoon. Soon after she left, Dr. Stewart came, accompanied by a formidable retinue of house doctors and nurses. The imposing array was evidently too much for me, for he found that he could not continue the examination until the next day, when he hoped I would be less tense. I tried in vain to persuade him to finish it then. As soon as the door had closed upon him and his companions, the flood gates burst. It was foolish, of course, but I had summoned all the will power that I possessed to meet this ordeal and then had failed. And for twenty-four hours I would be haunted by the dread of facing it once more. I refused to be comforted by Sr. Benedicta, who was kindness itself, and I was still in the depths when, later in the evening, Father came. I think he managed to pull me somewhat nearer the surface, but it was not until the next morning that I really emerged. He brought me, among other things, some relics of Blessed Théophane Vénard, which I prized most highly. I had read a short sketch of his life which Father had given me when I was at Wellesley eight years ago, and had never since that time lost my interest in foreign mission work.

Saturday, March 30¹¹

Dr. Stewart made the required examination and decided to consult Dr. Aspell.

Sunday, March 31

Dr. Aspell examined me, and soon after, Dr. Stewart brought me the verdict that an operation was necessary to remove a growth – a cyst – in the abdomen. He wished to perform the operation the next day and left me meantime under orders not to move from the bed, lest there should be a rupture. By this time the breakers were rising pretty high and I had to struggle hard to keep my head above water. I had always had a horror of an operation and until Sunday I even prayed that it might by a miracle be prevented. When, however, the decision had been made, I knew that I must submit to the inevitable.

Monday, April 1

Then a miracle happened which was no less wonderful than the one I had prayed for. Four Masses were said for me Monday morning, one by Father, one by Fr. Lane and one by Fr. Alexandre at his request, and one at home by Mother’s request. Father had also asked prayers from the Dominican Sisters and their little pupils at Hawthorne, from Mother Alphonsa and her cancer patients, from the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary in New York and the nuns at the Cenacle. And the results of all these good prayers and others was that my weak self disappeared and I went to the operation – which seemed to me closely akin to death – with a strength and courage which was the direct gift of God.

The days that followed were very much alike. Tuesday night I received Extreme Unction at Father’s hands and after that I had the happiness of receiving Holy Communion every morning, as I had before the operation. This was always the best part of the day. The little room became a chapel and sometimes two or three of the patients who were well enough came there and received Communion with me. I liked it best then, for it seemed as if they would help me to adore and thank Him who had been so good to me. But I liked it, too, when I was all alone, with only the Sisters kneeling with lighted candles outside the door. I shall never forget the confidence which I always felt at the words Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini,¹² or the peace and joy that never failed to come with the Gift of Gifts. I often thought that I should regret the time when I should not be so helpless that Our Lord would have to come thus to me. It seemed a sign of even greater love than if He let me come to Him.

The next happiest time of the day was when Father came. In spite of work and other cares, he visited me every day until he left for Boston on Good Friday, and each visit left me more deeply grateful that God had given me such a Father. Occasionally there were other visitors. Once Msgr. Dunn came and every day Sr. Anita spent some time with me at his request.

On Easter Monday Fr. Lane stopped to see me on his way to Boston and one Saturday two Franciscan Missionaries of Mary called. Kathryn Courtney, of the office of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, visited me more than once, and before I left Mary Augustine and Nora Shea had each come to the city to see me.

I looked forward every day to the mail, sure that I would get at least two letters from home and one from Hawthorne – the Maryknoll Daily Bulletin edited by Mary Augustine.¹³

Of course the days sometimes dragged and the monotony of gazing always at the same bare wall often threatened to make me restless. So I decided to name the different objects that I could see. After that, I could not look at the offending wall without thinking patience, for that was its name. In the center of the wall was an ugly ventilator, but every time I saw it I remembered the word thanksgiving. The wardrobe had a whole sentence attached to it, one taken from Thoughts from Modern Martyrs which I was rereading – The hand of God is everywhere; therefore it will be everywhere with me. Of course there was no connection between the object named and the thought that it was to suggest, for the number of objects in my line of vision was decidedly limited. The whole idea might have struck me as ridiculous if I had been well, but it did not seem so then, not even when I dubbed the chandelier prayer for Father. I even christened the ferry boat whistles which shrilled so incessantly during the night.

So the time passed. I could have wished to be at Hawthorne on Holy Thursday, when the Blessed Sacrament was for the first time reserved in the Seminary Chapel, but Mary Augustine wrote me all about it and I knew that both she and Sara had brought me there in thought.

On Easter Sunday they both heard Mass there for the first time and afterwards had breakfast with Father Lane. Father Walsh was still in Boston.

Life at Maryknoll was not, however, without its trials. Margaret had left at the end of the month, and Sara and Mary Augustine found themselves alone – and with the larder empty. Perhaps Margaret had been shocked by our levity. She was certainly convinced that we were adding ten years to our purgatory every time we laughed unduly or violated holy poverty by refusing to eat burnt toast or meat that had been nibbled by stray cats. At any rate, she decided to leave the girls to their own devices. Sara, therefore, became cook, and Mary Augustine, dish-washer and chamber-maid. They kept house thus for three weeks or so – and reported wonderful success.

Meanwhile Father had returned from Boston and the girls were preparing to move, as the owner of the house wished to sell it. Nora Shea had come to help them, and Mary Bogue had been installed in the kitchen. So one day towards the end of April they first flit and then lit, according to Mary Augustine, on a hillside overlooking the first Maryknoll.

At the hospital the patient in number 64 was recovering rapidly, wonderfully the doctor said. All the pain had left me the day after I was anointed and within a week I was able to read at intervals and to write a little. I suppose the writing was not very legible but I enjoyed sending a daily bulletin to Father.

I was already looking forward to sitting up, when I chanced to discover that my condition was more serious than I had supposed. I knew that Father had written to one hundred nuns and others, asking for prayers for my speedy and complete recovery, but I thought this only another instance of his solicitous care. But one day I found a copy of this letter of request and was struck by the words – It will probably require more than human means to effect a permanent cure. I wrote to ask him the meaning of that sentence but before his reply had time to reach me, I came within reach of my chart and found out for myself. A huge tumor had been removed and the case was no doubt malignant! The news, though startling at first, brought its blessing with it, for it strengthened my confidence in prayer and my trust in God.

I had now three relics which I always kept over the wound, the one of Blessed Théophane which had been with me from the beginning, one of Bernadette of Lourdes, which Father Price had sent me, and one of Sr. Thérèse, The Little Flower, which was the gift of the Carmelite Sisters of Boston. Father had brought me some Lourdes water and Sr. Benedicta had given me some oil and roses blessed in honor of St. Rita. Is it any wonder that I recovered, when I had the prayers of so many saints in Heaven and so many good Sisters on earth? The wonder is that I was not completely overcome by the thought of all the good things that were being done for me and to me.

The day when I sat up for the first time was a very joyful one, and I took as much pleasure as a child in learning to walk. I was most happy, however, on the Thursday and Friday before I left the hospital. Thursday I made my first visit to the chapel. It was here that my father and brother and Father Walsh had prayed during the operation. I thought of all the others who had come there like them in their anxiety, and my heart went out to those who on this day were waiting and praying, as well as to those who were suffering. But all these thoughts came later. When I first found myself before the Tabernacle, I could not even think.

On Friday, the feast of Our Lady of Good Counsel, I went to Benediction. I was guarded by Sr. Benedicta on one side and Sr. Anita on the other, and with their assistance I went to the very front of the chapel, as near to the altar as I could get.

The next day I left the hospital and went to Long Branch¹⁴, according to the doctor’s orders. My two weeks’ visit there was a pleasant one, though it seemed like an exile. I was not strong enough to go to daily Mass and so had to content myself with visiting the Blessed Sacrament during the day. My friends were most kind but they could not help discussing the things in which they were interested and I almost stifled in the Congregationalist atmosphere. It reminded me of my college days.

On Sunday, the 28th of April, the Feast of the Patronage of St. Joseph, I went to Mass for the first time since the 19th of March. My sickness had lasted from one feast of St. Joseph to the other. Every pleasant day found me by the ocean, never tiring of watching its grandeur. I liked to think of its immensity as a figure of God’s love. I read, while I was at Long Branch, two widely different books, The Little Flower of Jesus and the life of Carla Wenckebach,¹⁵ formerly professor of German at Wellesley. I could not help contrasting these two lives, the one so full of sweetness and light and the beauty of grace, the other strong and brave and yet so barren. To Sr. Thérèse God was always very near and dear; to the sturdy German Protestant, He seemed too impersonal to enter into the difficulties of daily life.

Saturday, May 11

On Saturday, the 11th, my exile came to an end. When I left Hawthorne in March, it was still clothed in the garb of winter. Now the trees were thick with foliage and the green slopes were bright with May sunshine. Nora¹⁶ was waiting for me at the station and together we rode up to the new Maryknoll, a pretty cottage¹⁷ set on a hillside almost in the midst of the woods. This was office as well as home, for the front room had been fitted up for work. There were the addressograph and the multigraph and the typewriters, the familiar landmarks of the old office. There, too, were Father and Mary Augustine and Sara, working busily as ever. But the thing that impressed me most was that I was there. That knowledge made me speechless and almost breathless. In fact, it was not until three or four days had passed that I fully realized that I was not dreaming.

After lunch I walked down to the chapel and the next morning I went there for Mass for the first time. If I had liked the Dominican chapel for its smallness, then I loved this tiny sanctuary where the Blessed Sacrament seemed so near. The girls knelt on the floor during Mass, but I, being accounted an invalid, had the honor of a chair and a prie-dieu. I still had the invalid’s privilege of having Holy Communion brought to me. I shall be happy when I can kneel before the altar to receive Our Lord, but I often think that I appreciate more deeply the greatness of His love when He comes down to me. When, in the hospital, I could not even kneel to receive Him, it always seemed as if He had come in search of me in my helplessness.

During the last weeks of May we had several visitors. Of course the visit of a missioner is always a big event for us and so we were especially pleased to see Fr. Allard of Burma. Then one Saturday night after dinner Fr. Price descended upon us with two guests, Miss Maria Hoar and her small brother, Edward, of Philadelphia. Mary Augustine cordially invited all three to dinner, but while Fr. Price was trying to remember whether he had eaten dinner or not, she came back, after interviewing Sara, and retracted the invitation. The spirit indeed was willing but the flesh was wanting. So Fr. Price started off down the hill to the Seminary, accompanied by Edward, who was carrying a clean Sunday blouse under his arm and wearing a decidedly lean and hungry look on his face. Maria, meanwhile was dining on an egg. Our sleeping quarters also were rather limited just then, as Miss Jackson of Westfield, Mass, was spending Sunday with me. However, by turning the dining room couch into a bed and shifting Mary Bogue from the third floor to the first, we managed to find a place where Maria could sleep. We were rather inclined to congratulate ourselves when Miss Bjerring, who called Sunday afternoon, left before we could offer her either bed or board. Maria stayed with us until Monday morning, for the train which Fr. Price tried to catch ten minutes after its scheduled time of departure did not go until the next day. It ran on weekdays only.

Fr. Price – and in fact all of us – were especially interested in Edward, because he had only recently been cured of a serious illness by Our Lady of Lourdes. Fr. Price hopes to make him a missioner some day. Maria would like to stay with us but does not feel that she ought to leave home at present.

About this time a Weary Willie knocked at Father’s door one morning and was forthwith set to work. As he took very kindly to the exercise and seemed willing to do anything, from pumping water to mending board-walks, he was given the privilege of sleeping in our hen-coop. Hereupon he lost all traces of his former profession, donned a new straw hat of Hawthorne’s latest style, assumed spectacles for reading, and henceforth lived and worked as befitted his title, John McDermott. He transformed the hen-coop into a summer bungalow, carpeted it with brown paper, built a window-seat, and drove hooks whereon to hang his wardrobe. He even laid the foundations of a library from our cast-off pamphlets and prayer cards.

Father was absent for a week, attending to The Field Afar and other business. We were sorry as ever to have him go and glad when he returned. We missed him especially on Pentecost Sunday, but were satisfied that he was remembering us as we remembered him, in our prayers. The little chapel seemed like another cenacle on this day.

We celebrated Memorial Day by entertaining Kathryn Courtney and the Misses Fitzpatrick, nieces of Msgr. Dunn. Perhaps I should have said that they, being fresh from New York, entertained us. Yet they were much pleased with our cozy home and with our woods. Even the inconveniences of the country did not dampen their enthusiasm. They thought it great sport to get drinking water from a well in the cellar, reached by descending a flight of break-neck stairs, and to use a pump in the kitchen to obtain another grade of water, our second best. Miss Courtney was especially interested in our work, as she has charge of the New York office of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith.

The last day of May found us in a little uncertainty as to our housekeeping arrangements. Mary Bogue was not well and Catherine Doherty, Father’s indefatigable housekeeper, who had come to us to recuperate and was, by way of recreation, doing much of the work, was in New York. In the emergency Mary Augustine became sick and relieved the situation by being unable to eat. Sara divided her attention between the kitchen stove and the addressograph which wouldn’t address.

Sometimes during this month we sang the Ave Maris Stella at night prayers. We had to sing without the organ, however, as I was not able to pump it, and we decided that it would be rather distracting for someone to kneel back of it and pull the straps. So we preferred to have our choral service on the side porch before we went up to night prayers. We sang our favorite hymns to the Blessed Mother and always closed with O Lord, I am not worthy. We dared not attempt without the organ the two that we liked best, Veni Jesu and Only a Veil.

We all like the little room that is used as an oratory here much better that the one in the old house. There our front room had served the purpose of oratory, parlor, library, and sometimes store-room. Its claim to the first title rested on the fact that we had placed our statues and relics on the mantel above the fireplace. In our new home there is a little room opening off mine, which is used for an oratory only. In it there is a small altar, on which have been placed a crucifix, statues of the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph, and a picture and relics of Blessed Théophane Vénard. Our mission organ, which stands on one side of the room, is suggestive, if not, at present, useful. The morning and evening prayers are the same as those used during Lent. The meditations for May were taken from Cardinal Newman’s Month of May.

June

With the beginning of June we took up selections from Fr. Grou’s Characteristics of True Devotion and from Meditations and Monthly Retreats. We added to our night prayers the Litany of the Sacred Heart, saying it for the foundation of the Seminary. By this time also we had finished the reading of the Acts and began the Epistles.

Sunday, June 2

A glorious day for Trinity Sunday. On my way to Mass I met Mary Bogue, who told me that John had just been to confession. I wanted to get as near to him as possible after that, for it seemed that, if the angels rejoice more over one sinner doing penance than over ninety-nine just, then they must be very close to him. Poor John! Perhaps he wasn’t a sinner at all, but one doesn’t usually connect the idea of great virtue with a tramp.

After Mass Father spoke to us on the significance of the month of the Sacred Heart as applied to our mission. In the gospel of this day the command is given Go, teach all nations. The Divine Heart broke for all mankind. But if we wish to be of service in bringing the knowledge and love of this Heart to the millions who have never heard of it, we must strive by prayer and constant watchfulness to make our own hearts more Christ-like. We can find in the life of Christ examples of thoughtfulness for others and forgetfulness of self that we should put into practice in our daily lives, making our conduct always considerate of others, not of ourselves. We can pray best for this grace after Holy Communion, when the Heart of Christ rests on our own.

In the afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Michael McGinnis and Miss Tomoney of New York stopped here for a few minutes on their way from the Cancer Hospital to the Seminary. They were delighted with our lodge in the woods. They also inspected John’s bungalow, an honor which stamped on his face a smile that won’t come off. After supper we sat on the porch and sang hymns. The lightning played on the surrounding hills, sometimes lighting up the Novitiate of the Christian Brothers until it stood out brighter than in the sunlight. Then again it would be dark except for the one glowing light, which always spoke to us of the presence of the Blessed Sacrament.

Monday, June 3

Mary Augustine was not well but insisted on working almost all day. We made a brave attempt to keep silence during lunch and dinner, according to Father’s request that we put forth a special effort in this respect during the month of June. We succeeded fairly well, for on account of Mary’s illness I had to read until the meal was over and then ate alone. This evening Sara and Nora walked down the road saying the rosary – extending Rosary Hill, Fr. Lane calls it.

Tuesday, June 4

Father is in New York in search of a housekeeper, as Marion, the present incumbent, feels that she is not strong enough to do the work. Brother Ernst¹⁸ does not understand it. In Germany women work in the fields with the men but here they are too weak to raise a window. At least, Marion calls him to her assistance whenever she is confronted with that arduous task.

Mary Augustine is still unwell but working. She eats less than would keep a mosquito alive. We are well qualified to make this comparison for we have constant opportunities for the observation of mosquitoes and all their relatives in the land of insects and creeping and crawling things.

Thomas McCann,¹⁹ the new recruit, who aspires to be our second Brother, following in Ernst’s footsteps, has been working in the office most of the day. He enjoys licking stamps but takes the greatest pleasure in going to the post-office to buy butter.

Wednesday, June 5

The weather is perfect and Hawthorne is beautiful. When I first left the hospital, I began to appreciate as never before the brightness of the sun and the wonder of all green, growing things. But I had yet to learn the beauty of Hawthorne in June.

Since I returned, I have been having breakfast with Father and resting a while afterward before attempting the climb homeward.²⁰ While Father was away, I took the opportunity of the rest period to clean as many of his coats and cassocks as I could lay my hands on. I inflicted the same treatment on Fr. Lane’s clothes but had to give up when it came to Fr. Price. I asked him to let me take his cassock, and he replied in all simplicity, But I should have to go to bed while you did it.

The cleaning was a happy idea, for it led to mending, and the mending took me to the chapel where there was a torn altar cloth. It was a privilege to work on this, and fortunately the lace was so ragged that it kept me busy for several days. I finished it today, however, and was demoted to the task of sewing Brother Ernst’s initials on towels.

This noon the girls returned from the chapel (Rosary Hill) with a basket containing a dozen and a half of eggs. Mother Alphonsa has given orders that the eggs shall keep up an uninterrupted procession toward Maryknoll.

John has added to the furnishings of his bungalow a white fur rug. It harmonizes well with the brown of the paper carpets.

Katherine²¹ returned this afternoon and was received with open arms. She is to manage the housework, while Mary Bogue will devote more of her time to the laundry work of both houses.

Yesterday morning Father spoke to me of possible arrangements that might be made for the future of the Maryknolls. He said that the Church does not favor the organization of new communities, preferring that workers be joined to those whose rules have already