Recollections of My Life and Reflections on Times and Events During It: A Memoir by Father W. J. HowlettMain MenuIntroductionTable of ContentsPage 1Page 2Page 3Page 4Page 5Page 6Page 7Page 8Page 9Page 10Page 11Page 12Page 13Page 14Page 15Page 16Page 17Page 18Page 19Page 20Page 21Page 22Page 23Page 24Page 25Page 26Page 27Page 28Page 29Page 30Page 31Page 32Page 33Page 34Page 35Page 36Page 37Page 38Page 39Page 40Page 41Page 42Page 43Page 44Page 45Page 46Page 47Page 48Page 49Page 50Page 51Page 52Page 53Page 54Page 55Page 56Page 57Page 58Page 59Page 60Page 61Page 62Page 63Page 64Page 65Page 66Page 67Page 68Page 69Page 70Page 71Page 72Page 73Page 74Page 75Page 76Page 77Page 78Page 79Page 80Page 81Page 82Page 83Page 84Page 85Page 86Page 87Page 88Page 89Page 90Page 91Page 92Page 93Page 94Page 95Page 96Page 97Page 98Other Writings by Father W. J. HowlettTimelineHowlett Family TreeWilliam J. Howlett Family TreeMaps and Geography: Howlett's First Trip WestFr. Howlett moved with his family to Denver when he was a child, and then moved to St. Thomas Seminary in Bardstown, KY several years later. This map recounts the path he took to get to both places.Maps and Geography: Howlett's European travelsFr. Howlett traveled far and wide during his trip to Europe. Here is a map of the places he recorded visiting.Maps and Geography: Howlett in Paris, 1872-1873This map shows the locations that Fr. Howlett mentioned visiting while in Paris, France.Maps and Geography: Howlett in London, 1874This map shows the locations that Fr. Howlett mentioned visiting while vacationing in London, EnglandMaps and Geography: Colorado Missions with TerrainFr. Howlett's Colorado mission locations, with Colorado terrain.IndexAcknowledgementsContributors' BiographiesCaroline Sherman66a71275ddeb8af1c1d88afae82e839e1097bec8Alvaro Cestti9cbe672718f2639644bd64e01d3ccbd427b50135Rebecca Lemon6b79a9a87a74d12f9288641e66ba0cdddcc2dc70Thomas Lynch079bdd3d2111c84d632cad76a596db20227e1e4bMaria Letizia6062382c70a421e32af463b8d74b84d42cc4692cDaniella Montesanobf55c9c5d63232ad4c740968bbc26fd662a7be27Veronica Smaldone8faa362cf8b51bf3f3a3b904503dd87a653500eeAshley Trimble922ced99a1a653270a76468ea189bc6540cdcc7eHIST 394 at CUA, Spring 2020
12020-02-19T08:01:35-08:00Page 101plain2020-02-19T08:01:35-08:00at Silver Creek were Catholic and had a little church which had for several years been served by the Rev Louis Baroux, a member of the Holy Cross Order, but he was in India at this time and his place was supplied by other Fathers of the same Order. Only a remnant of the tribe remained, but an infiltration of Irish settlers had come in and the little church had its uses. This time it was Father Cointet who was returning from Silver Creek to Notre Dame and he stopped to visit the lone Catholic family in a radius of many miles, of whose existence he had in some way learned.
It was a cold frosty evening, but with no snow, that he drove in the lane with one horse and light open wagon. It is needless to say that he was welcome - that little man with light hair and complexion, with a low voice speaking English easily but with a French accent, of an age when most men would be seeking rest and retirement, but still vigorous and alert in the work of his profession. His face was seamed with the marks of labor and exposure, but his smile was as kindly as that of an old friend renewing a friendship of years interruption.
I remember that little altar he set up in the main living room of the house the following morning. Many a time have I set up similar ones in my missionary years, in better and worse surroundings, but that first one is clearer today in my mind that any of those of my own arranging - it was so strange, it was so sacred, it was so portentous of something so great - Oh, I even recall the strip of rag carpet on the floor before it! And yet it was but a table covered with sheets, another one against the wall behind it, tow candles, his crucifix, and his chalice covered with its veil in the center and the two small altar cards at the ends. Another thing which I remember was that our wonderment must have been a little out of order, for our mother was obliged to still us and she did it by threatening to make us go to confession if we did not keep still! That was enough, the priest was in a side room hearing confessions and giving penances, and surely we would get a big one. When mass began we were too interested to be disorderly. After the mass, Father Gointet gave each of us a little holy picture which we highly prized. Mine unfortunately fell into the hands of my baby sister and was crushed out of all shape. I had a good cry over my loss, but my older consoled me by pressing it into fair shape again with a hot flatiron, and I am glad to say that I have that little picture yet among my most valued treasures. It is now a souvenir, not only of Father Gointent, but of that little sister who died a holy death thirty years later as a Sister of the Society of Sisters of Loretto at the Foot of the Cross.
In regard to the threat of my mother to make us go to confession if we did not keep quiet I sometimes question the propriety of making religious practices a matter of punishment.