CHAPTER XXVIII.

FATHER PHILIP RAPPAGLIOSI AND OTHERS.

In the spring of 1874, St. Peter's Mission was re-opened, and naturally enough, the charge fell to Father C. Imoda. He had been most devoted to it, and had never ceased advocating its re-opening with higher superiors.

At first he ha as companions only two lay-Brothers, F. De Kock, and L. D'Agostino, both of them veterans, who had been attached to the Mission from its very start in the early sixties. In July he welcomed a zealous assistant in Father Philip Rappagloiso, and somewhat later Father J. Guidi, who came to labor in the same field.

The mention of Father Rappagliosi recalls a very peculiar incident, of a semi-serious nature, which occurred when the Father, who had just arrived from Europe, was passing through Helena on his way to one of the Indians Missions in northern Montana. The story may well be told as a relief from the dullness of these pages, and the writer, who had more than an agreeable share in the adventure, can vouch for the accuracy of every detail.

It was the first week of January, and Father Rappagliosi had to leave early in the morning for the coach to the west side, and wished before leaving to say good-bye to the writer, who ha spent the night at St. John's Hospital, a few steps across from the Rectory, taking care of a patient. This was a person of distinction, who had been brought to the institution the evening before at the writer's own suggestion, to recover from a little too much conviviality. The difficulty was how to keep him in the place lone enough. He was given the best room in the building, on the first floor, and to the fright of the front entrance. The case required some precautions, which were decided upon ina family council, as soon as the patient had been put to bed. His suit of clothes, and shoes were placed beyond his reach. Moreover, the writer volunteered to sit up and care for his friend,

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And suggested the extra precaution of having the room locked from the outside, so that the patient willy-nilly would have to resign himself to his temporary confinement.

So far, so good. Still the best-laid plan occasionally do miscarry. Late in the night the patient became remarkably considerate and affable. More then once he expressed his regret that the Father should lose his rest on his account, and pleaded with him to lie down on the lounge which had been placed by the sisters for his convenience in the room, and lay at the foot of the bed and beneath the window that opened on the front porch. The Father promised that he would do so, but only when the patient himself was asleep and resting comfortably.

Up to this our friend had been sitting on the bed. He now stretched himself under the covering, and hardly half an hour after he was snoring. Approaching him quietly to investigate conditions, the inexperienced orderly felt convinced that all was well. Thereupon removing his shoes, and with a blanket around him, he lay down on the lounge and soon fell into a sound sleep, the west of the weary.

About daybreak he was aroused by a knock at the door, and answered with a sleepy "Come in." it was good Sister Bertha bringing Father Rappagliosi to say good-bye. She unlocked the door, and as this was swinging open, the sister noticed instantly what the green nurse had not yet any knowledge of; and with a peculiar emphasis of voice, "Father," she asked," where is your patient?" "There," was the reply, the utterance being accompanied by a movement of the hand pointing to the patient's bed.

But the patient was not in the bed, nor under it, or anywhere within sight; he had simply vanished. What a strange situation, extremely puzzling and tantalizing, and supremely ridiculous! Father Rappagliosi enjoyed our chagrin, and laughing heartily hastily shook hands with the writer and hurried away to catch the coach.

Anxious to learn something about our runaway charge, we now approached the empty couch and partly turned up the covering, to see from the warmth of the blankets, about how long it had been vacated. This move only added to our predicament. For it was soon reported that we have turned over the bedding and shaken the blankets in a vain effort to find our patient.

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The room was about fourteen feet by twelve in size, and had two windows, one of which opened on the front porch, and was no more then three feet above the floor. Both windows were closed, and, as already mentioned, the door of the room had been locked from the outside and remained locked through the night. Nevertheless, the patient was gone. At least that much was certain. But how? Where was he? What had become of him? The writer know not, nor any one else in the building. But had one been on Catholic Hill between two and three o'clock that cold January morning, he might have met and been startled by the unwonted sight of a red-flanneled figure walking through the snow, and making for a home three blocks away, where the inmates were nearly frightened out of their wits by the apparition.

The church and the hospital stood on the opposite ends, east and west, of the same block, whilst the Rectory was on the brow the of the hill, about half way between. It was now the hour for Mass; the writer had to go to the other end of the block to reach the church. Considerable snow had fallen during the night, and he had on no shoes, but a pair of very light slippers. He looked for his shoes which had been placed by the lounge. But they were no longer there; they, too, had disappeared as mysteriously as the patient. Kindly the Sisters came to his relief and loaned him a pair, which, though not quite a perfect fit, answered the purpose fairly well.

Shortly after Mass, the joint hero of the story, and Father Imoda, his companion, had to go down town on some urgent matter. As they reached the foot of Broadway, Col. C. D. Curtis, emerging from his junk shop just opposite, greeted them warmly and showed some surprise at seeing them out rather early that morning; and with a mischievous wink, asked whether we had not come for some footwear. Then, with a road, as was his wont when something unusually comical came to this notice: "you need not hide it, Reverend Fathers, it is a rich one and known all over the city by this time."

The telephone was as yet an unknown convenience, and we could not but wonder how things had leaked out and spread far and wide in so short a time. Moreover, it was circulated during the day that a patient had runoff from the hospital in the priest's

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clothes, which would have to be reblessed before they could be used again. Nor could the news have been devoid of all public interest, as it found its way into the local papers.

About noon a very courteous colored gentleman called at the Rectory. He carried a parcel neatly done up, which he presented to the writer as coming from a personal friend. Its contents were soon revealed. They were the missing shoes, accompanied by a note expressing the thanks of the user. He had quietly appropriated the footgear, as soon as he became convinced that his guardian was fast asleep. Then he placed one foot on the edge of the lounge, and bending over the sleeper without touching him, he reached for the lower sash, which he carefully raised and crawled through the window as stealthily as a professional burglar. And once on the porch, he was a free man, although he had nothing on, but his night clothes, and a pair of borrowed shoes.

Evidently he had now his wits about him. He was, further, considerate enough, when out, to shut at once the window which he had opened, and this not so much to delay the discovery of his exit, as to save the sleeping orderly from contracting a serious cold from the air of that January night; which was, indeed, eminently charitable. Hence, since it is written that "charity covereth a multitude of sins," let us dismiss any further reference to the incident and return to our chronicle.

Through his long intercourse with the Blackfeet, Father Imoda became quite familiar with their language, and compiled a small dictionary and grammar in it. but so far as the writer knows, the books were never published. The Father had taken from the very beginning of the Missions the greatest interest in its welfare and resumed with renewed zeal and fervor the work of the Indian's conversion. But new and serious difficulties had now to be confronted.

The rapid settling of the region by the whites has caused the U. S. Government to restrict the Territory of the Blackfeet, and, as a consequence, the Indians were not placed on a reservation some sixty miles away from the Mission. The care of the reservation had been entrusted by the Indian Department to Protestant missionaries. The result of this arrangement was the development of great opposition to Catholic influences. In

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exactly the same condition were the Gros Ventres and Assiniboines.

However, earnest and faithful work among the tribes was done by Father C. Imoda and his companion, father Philip Rappagliosi, and likewise by Father P. P. Prando, who sometime later on arrived to share their labors.

After several years of discouragement, a remarkable change for the better has become very noticeable, a change the more surprising, because rather unexpected. What is to account for it? We do not know; for god's ways and dealings with His creatures are beyond human ken. Still, who knows, but its real cause lies in the facts we shall now put on record?

On the 7^th day of February, 1878,m near Fort Belknap, in the Milk River country, died Father Philip Rappagliosi, who has been called deservedly the apostle of the Blackfeet. Though mysteriously and untimely, his death was unquestionably natural. We say "unquestionably natural" advisably, to contradict the rumor that Father Rappagliosi had been foully dealt with by a certain individual, whose life appears to have been unworthy of his cloth. The person referred to had scandalized the Indians by his misbehavior and mercenary conduct. He became bitterly antagonistic to Father Rappagliosi, whose disinterested and holy life contrasted sharply with his own, and whom he traduced unscrupulously before the Indians and half-breeds of the neighborhood.

Henry Brooks, a personal friend of the writer of years, happened to be near the place where Father Rappagliosi fell sick. He became the Father's voluntary nurse and stood by him day and night to the last. A few days before Father Rappagliosi died, the man in question called to see him. He was refused admittance at first by the attendant, till Father Rappagliosi himself bade the latter to let him in. the visitor now prepared a medicine which, he said, would soon relieve the patient. It failed to do so, as may happen in any sickness, not every remedy proving useful. The Father grew worse and died a few days later.

Upon this, some Indians and half-breeds--and also some whites--started the rumor that the man had given the Father a poisonous preparation to kill him. The rumor gained ground and spread far and wide. It even crossed the Atlantic, and we

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know that the Father General of the Society of Jesus, who cherished in a special manner Father Rappagliosi, on hearing the rumor, expressed himself as follows: "Mi scrissero che era morto, ma non mi scrissero che me lo hanno ammazzato"; that is, "they wrote me that the (Father Rappagliosi) had died, but they did not write that they had killed him."

The Father's relatives in Rome also heard the rumor, and applied to the Italian authorities to have the case looked into. Hence, upon a request of the Italian Government addressed to the Secretary of the Interior, Washington, D. C., the Secretary of War was directed by the latter to investigate the case. This he did by appointing for his special purpose a Military Commission, Col. Moale, U. S. A., being one of the members. The writer was called upon by the officer just mentioned, for any information that might help the Commission to a thorough investigation of the matter in question. Pursuant to instructions received from Washington, the members of the Commission visited the place where Father Rappagliosi had died, examined witnesses, whites, half-breeds, and Indians, and looked into everything that could throw any light on the subject before them. As we learned afterward from col. Moale himself, the investigation brought out nothing to substantiate the rumor.

This youthful and saintly missionary had been advised to be more careful of his health. he would reply: "Someone's health has to be exposed, and even sacrificed for the conversion of these savages."

Before setting out on his last missionary tour among the Piegans and half-breeds along the Marias and in the Milk River County, he embraced all his religious brethren and said to one: "Dear Brother, should I return no more, pray, please for the peace of my soul." He did not return. Ina message to his brethren at St. Peter's Mission he expressed himself as if grief

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more than sickness would bring about his death; grief, that the people for whose welfare he was enduring so many hardships, showed themselves utterly indifferent. Living for them had not availed, apparently, to move their hearts; perhaps, dying for them would accomplish the object. He therefore resolved to offer up his life for their conversion; and God seemed to accept the offering. For the noticeable change in favor of Christianity, which we have mentioned above, dates from the very hour that his saintly soul passed to a better life. Hence our belief, that he died a voluntary martyr for the salvation of the Blackfeet.

We reproduce from the Helena Herald of February 18, 1878, the obituary notice of the departed missionary, it is well worth while, for it contains interesting particulars of the Father's life, of his last sickness and his obsequies. The obituary is from the pen of Major R. C. Walker, U. S. A., an esteemed citizen of Helena, who in the summer of 1875 had kindly given Father Rappagliosi lessons in the English language while the Father was spending a few days in the city.

The first sacred rites ever solemnized in Helena or Montana since its organization at the funeral of a Priest of God, were yesterday celebrated in the Church of the Sacred Hearts, in honor of the interment of the remains of the Rev. Philip Rappagliosi, S. J., a young priest only thirty-seven years of age. The occasion was rendered doubly affecting by the delivery of a touching sermon by the Rev. Father Palladino, on the Gospel of the day, which contained the parable of the householder who had gone out early in the morning and at the third, the sixth, the ninth and the eleventh house, to provide laborers for his vineyard. He alluded to the deceased Father as one who had been called at the early age of fifteen, and who, after a devoted and zealous priesthood, had given up his life as a martyr for the salvation of souls, and as one of the few spoken of in the Gospel who had undoubtedly been chosen.

Philip Rappagliosi was born at Rome, September 14, 1841, of respectable parents. He entered the Society of Jesus on the 28^th day of September, 1856, and completed his studies in Divinity in the Roman College under Father (now Cardinal) Franzelin; and was afterwards Professor or Rhetoric in the same institution; was ordained Priest at thirty years of age, and soon afterwards was sent to the Indian Missions in the Rocky Mountains, and reached Helena about Christmas, 1873, where he remained a few days, and then continued his journey to St. Mary's Mission in the Bitter Root Valley, where

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he mastered the Flat Head language, and was able to converse and preach in that tongue while exercising his ministerial duties among the Indians. From there he was sent in June, 1875, to St. Peter's Mission among the Blackfeet.

During his missionary labors among this nation he learned their language also, and in this field he was called to his reward from a rude hut in a camp of half-breeds on Milk River, Montana, about fifteen miles from Fort Belknap. During his last illness, which continued twenty days, he was attended by Father Decorby, O. M. I., who came down to visit him from the Cypress Hills, about eighty miles distant. From the hands of Father Decorby he received the last sacraments, and died about eight o'clock in the evening of February 7, 1878, surrounded by his faithful followers, whose care and kind attention to the dying priest were all that sorrowing friends could administer.

The remains were brought to Fort Benton by Henry Brooks, who had attended the Reverend father with a parent's care throughout his illness, and were received by the citizens of Benton with every mark of respect, and Mass was said there for the repose of his soul by the Rev. Father Imoda at the residence of Mr. T. C. Power. Thence they were conveyed by private vehicle, under the charge of the Rev. Father Imoda, assisted by some other friends, to St. Peter's Mission, where a rest was had for the night and Mass said next morning. From hence the remains were transported by private conveyance by Mr. Thomas Moran to Helena, where they arrived under charge of the indefatigable Father Imoda at one o'clock yesterday morning. A number of Catholic gentlemen, supposing the remains would arrive by coach, and desiring to pay all possible horn and respect to the deceased Father, went out on the stage road on Saturday with a hearse and carriages for that purpose. No honor was deemed too great to be offered in respect to the honored dead.

The many sacrifices in the short life of this young priest, from the day he left a loving father and mother to the self-abnegation and compulsory fasts among the Indians of the Rocky Mountains, would make an offering so acceptable in the sight of God that few would have the grace to emulate it, and so pure that the comprehension of the selfish worldling would fail to appreciate its worth.

After the High mass at ten o'clock, celebrated by the Rev. Father Imoda, the remains were borne by six pa;;-bearers, preceded by priests and acolytes, from the sacristy, where they had been watched and viewed by the faithful from early morn, to the front of the main altar, where they were blessed, prayers said, the congregation rising and remaining standing until the ceremonies were concluded. They

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were then taken from the church, the whole congregation following in solemn procession, to the enduring vault prepared for them under the rear of the church. Here the prayers of the last sad rites were said and the casket containing all that was mortal of the deceased Father was slowly and solemnly consigned to its receptacle built in the rocks of mother earth, the ceremonies ending with the parting prayer.

Philip Rappagliosi is the second priest to die in Montana. His life, written in Italian and published in Rome some time after his death, besides his biography, contains several of the letters written to relatives and friends. Together with these are also letters that were written to him while on the Indian Missions by his father, a gentleman held in the highest esteem for his singular piety and learning.

Looked at from a human point of view, Father Rappagliosi's death was a serious loss for the Indian Missions, especially with respect to the Blackfeet, Assiniboines, and Gros Ventres. But God, as He alone could do, turned it into gain and a visible blessing, not only for the tribes just mentioned, but for all the Indians of the mountains. For, besides working a remarkable change in the disposition of the former toward the faith--a change attributed to his death by all our missionaries--it brought new and efficient laborers into the field. No sooner heard they the news of his death than several of his fellow-students and former companions in Rome offered themselves to go and take his place. They yearned to follow his example and to devote their own lives for the conversion of the Indians of the Rocky Mountains. Father Philip Canestrelli, whom we have already met hard at work among the Indians of St. Ignatius, as well as Father Joseph Damiana, who arrived with him in the spring of 1879, were two of these volunteers; while Father P. P. Prando, who shortly after came to join then, was another. Father Prando and Father Damiani were assigned to the Blackfoot Mission, where by their zeal and efficiency they soon proved themselves worthy successors of Father Rappagliosi. Thus the loss became profit.

About this time the missionaries of St. Peter's bent their efforts to provide educational facilities for the youth of the tribes under their spiritual charge. They erected a substantial stone building

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and a boys' school was opened with Brother Robert Hamilton in its immediate charge. A serious difficulty in the way of the success of the school was its distance from the new reservation. However, before lone there was a fair attendance.

From 1855 to the period we are not treating of, that is, to the close of 1879, St. Peter's Mission had on its records 2,732 Indian baptisms.

While father Damiani, who had now been placed at the head of the Mission, attended the Indians and half-breeds to the east, from Milk River to the Mussel-Shell and along the Missouri; Father Prando's field lay further up, to the north, and close to the Blackfoot Reservation. We say "close by," for the intolerant Indian agent, the petty autocrat in charge, would not allow the Catholic missionary to reside within its limits. Unable to do better, the Father remained on the banks of Birch Creek, where he built al little hut for a dwelling, and also a small chapel for the Indians. Her they would meet occasionally for instruction, notwithstanding the agent's opposition.

On his rounds among these people, and in the intervals he spent in his little cabin on Birch Creek, Father Prando, as it were by contraband, baptized 686 Blackfeet Indians and united in marriage fifty-five Indian couples.