"Antek, Wojtek, what's the rush, where are you going?" asked the people on seeing their friends running as fast as they could go down Ontario Avenue, utterly heedless of obstacles, splashing through water up to their ankles, since, incidentally, Warsaw [Translator's note: the district was called little Warsaw by its inhabitants] abounds in this element, and at times Noah's ark would come in very handy.

Antek turned around and, smiling, replied: "I'm running for tools; we're going to build a church!"

"A church? What church? Where?"

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"Don't you know that the archbishop has sent Reverend Nowicki as rector? There he is--over there with a hammer in his hand calling the people to work! 'Come on, people,' he says, 'we're going to build a church, and you, Antek,' he says to me 'run and get some tools.' So I'm hurrying as fast as I can!"

"But Antek, you must be crazy! Where's the architect, who's the contractor? You can't build without a plan."

Antek laughed. "What do we need an architect and a contractor for? We'll just build the church ourselves and have done with it. Better come and help, and bring your hammers." Having said this, he nodded his head and hurried on.

This, my dear parishioners, happened on a certain Tuesday in the latter part of February, 1892. In reality the good people returning from work, on seeing that I was fiddling around out there, came over and asked: "What's this going to be, Father?"

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"We're going to build a church."

"That's fine, Father; we'll build a church. But when?"

"Well, why not right away? Let's clear the space, because we already have the lumber."

I had no sooner finished than these good people set to work, this one with a spade, others with axes, and pretty soon saws and hammers were in evidence. "Hey!" someone yelled, "set the posts for the foundation!" And in the twinkling of an eye the posts were set. "Here, fellows!" called Frank Mazurek to the young men, "bring over the floor joists." Antek started and many others followed, and when they all started sawing, chopping, squaring, and nailing, the floor, too, was quickly completed.

On the following day Mr. Ratkowski, a contractor, appeared on the scene. He is a real businessman and, having gotten wind of the fact that something was going on in St. Michael's Parish, he thought it might be worth the trouble to go over 4and find out what was up. So he came, looked into all the corners, giving some advice here, correcting something there, and seeing that everything was going smoothly--twirled his moustache and thought: there will be some business around here, the rector is young and therefore energetic, the parishioners are willing workers! Whereas I, taking advantage of his presence, said, "Here, brother, give us a hand; we're building this church for the glory of God." And the good fellow helped us willingly, for which we are grateful to him.

Thus the work progressed: my poor parishioners, after working all day in the steel mills, came willingly to finish the church.

Working thus, my parishioners built the church in three days, and would not accept a penny for their labor. I mention this so that others may know what good people the parishioners of St. Michael's at Warsaw are. The church was built, and on Saturday of the same week we celebrated our first Mass in it.

It is true that the church did not present an overly well-built appearance, and 5sometimes it seemed to me that the window on the south side somehow looked toward the north. The little church, however, had its good points: for instance, the school children could easily study geography on its roof--one could easily discern hills and valleys there, and after rain there were gulfs and straits and other things entering into the field of geography. But all jokes aside, the little church served us well for a long time, and we were happy there.

When the little church was finished I began to think about building a school, because a school, my good parishioners, is a most important matter--it is the soul of the parish. Close our schools and our Polish people will be lost. The school is the sun whose beams warm us to Christian virtue and national solidarity.

I thought and planned for a long time on how to turn my most sincere wish into reality, until finally I came to the conclusion that I must call the people together, or as one says here, call a parish mass meeting. So we got together and discussed the building of the school. The parishioners, however, were of the opinion that we would not need a large building for the school, since, as they 6said, there would be at most two hundred and fifty children. Somehow it did not seem possible to me that my parishioners would be so poorly endowed with this Polish virtue, but I thought that since the people had so decided I should not oppose them. Nevertheless, I decided to go from house to house personally to collect for the church, and in this manner ascertain the true state of affairs concerning the growing young Poles.

I therefore began my peregrination among the houses of my parishioners: I come in, look around, and see everything very modest and clean, and the children nicely dressed. Having praised God, I ask: "Well, mother, how many of these youngsters do you have?"

I have four, Father."

I enter another house "How many children are there here?"

Six, praise the Lord!" I say nothing, but go on. At the next place there are eight. It seems to be going up, I think to myself. I go on--but here I see 7only one little girl and one little boy. "What's this, mother," I say, "you have only two children?"

"No, indeed, Father, there are five; the other three got scared and hid under the bed."

When I finally looked over this army of Joes, Walters, Stanleys, Marys, Sophies, etc., I got scared and thought I would go absolutely bankrupt: "Please, Father, may I have a [holy] picture?" said one of the youngsters--"and me, too," says another, grabbing my cassock--"and me, too," cries a third, grabbing my button--"and me, too, and me, too," cry the others surrounding me on all sides. I reach into my pocket and begin to hunt, thinking that my final hour has struck. Finally, after having gotten out of this attack by the youngsters, I thought to myself; Ha, my worthy parishioners have certainly miscalculated. No, I thought, these fours, sixes, eights, and tens are no joking matter. One has to prepare for battle with them in advance. They must have a fine building, a large, roomy school, so that they may not be scattered by all four winds. They need a large playground, and we have only six lots, which is not sufficient for Polish 8youngsters.

We therefore bought twelve lots and erected an imposing building, which contains roomy and comfortable classrooms downstairs and a large church upstairs; it will suffice for us for many long years. And we did well in erecting a large school, one for fifteen hundred youngsters rather than for two hundred and fifty, because already, five years after the founding of the parish, we have, praise the Lord, eight hundred children in the school. We also have a fine playground for the children and a drill ground for the parish societies. Just come and see when out youngsters pour out into the playground and begin racing, because Polish nature must have space and freedom; or come and see us when all our societies get dressed up in their uniforms and stand in line, and the marshal orders: "Shoulder arms, forward march!" It is a thrilling sight! They march, they play, and there is plenty of room!

We had only one difficulty and that was with our dear neighbor Michigan (the lake on which Chicago is situated). It is a great friend of Neptune and sometimes played serious tricks on the parish property; all it has to do is blow once and 9you have a foot of water! Our mayor and city fathers, to whom I went for advice, maintained that really this has a rather favorable effect on the Poles, because they are hot tempered, they say, and the water supposedly has a cooling effect on them.

(To be continued next Friday.)