'Let me help you to remember when and where we met before. Listen
and I will tell you a little story.
"'It is Commencement day at a certain large college in a certain city
which we need not name. The graduating class have met together for the
last time in their own particular class-room. The saintly, white-haired
priest who has watched their progress step by step from the day they
first entered college stands before them. He speaks words to them which
brings tears to those young eyes, accustomed, as a rule, to looking only
on the merry side of life. He speaks words of true affection, of gentle
admonition and fatherly advice. He gives to each youth a tiny silver
medal of our Blessed Mother, and exacts from each one a promise that he
will faithfully carry that little medal until the day of his death.'
"As Jim spoke he took from an inner pocket a small medal of our Lady and
laid it on the palm of his hand. I drew forth my rosary, and there,
beside the crucifix, hung a medal the counterpart of Jim's. He smiled as
he continued:
"'I see you remember now, Father, but listen just a little longer for my
story is not finished. From that class-room those lads went forth into
the busy world of men and of affairs. They went their separate ways,
each one to fill that position in life to which he felt himself called,
most of them fired by ambition and confident of success.
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