He was instrumental on the formation of the Catholic Church Ex- tension Society of Canada, and organization which still exists and it’s purpose is to raise money to help missions in Canada, particularly in the West.

lie was most devoted to children, the poor and the disadvantaged, and was most beloved by them. Although he has been dead almost twenty years, he is still remembered with great love and affection by the priests and the people of this Archdiocese, and his name is often on their lips.

Shortly after the beginning of World War II, His Grace’s health began to decline and, as mentioned above, he was given a Coadjustor- Archbishop in the person of Archbishop Murray. Archbishop Murray be- came Apostolic Administrator of the Archdiocese in 1946, at which time Archbishop Sinnott moved to the hamlet of Camp Morton, where he had caused it to be established in the early 1930’s a beautifull summer camp for the underprivileged children of the Diocese. Archbishop Sinnott remained there until the spring of 1954 when he became very ill and died within a matter of weeks.

(This account has been furnished by Rt. Rev. N. J. Chartrand, Chancellor of “'innipeg).

IN MEMORIAM Rev. George Bradley, S. J.

liiegeman of Christ and of His Warrior Saint 'l‘he glorious fight is won. Rest from your toil. lgnatian zeal burned in your heart—gave wings To tireless feet and led you by the hand. From fair Cape Breton’s wave washed shores, by lakes Serene, through waving prairie gold, to far Beyond the Rockies’ peaks of deathless snows Your voice was heard—a potent voice that brought A message straight from God in accents clear. Countless the souls who eagerly looked up To feed on hope, and inspiration draw From lips fast consecrated to the truth. Crusader of Christ, rest, rest in peace. Home to the Island shores you loved so well, To native hills your youthful eyes have viewed, Home to the Parish Church—the modest school. Home to your own who crowd around you still; Home, home to stay your weary feet have turned. From Sacred Chair to cold and silent tomb Was but a single step. Your noon of life, Eclipsed, alas, sped swiftly to its eve. A thousand lips in reverence breathe your name, Above your grave a thousand mourners weep. Angels of Light watch o’er his cold, dark bed: God of Mercy, welcome thy servant home.

L.A.B., SJ.

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