,a ,child's ,book of ,saints   by       
,william ,canton   ,with illustrations  
by  ,t4 ,h4 ,robinson      ,this is     
fairy gold1 boy2   ,and ,i will prove it
 so4       --,shakespeare     ,every man
 ,i will go with thee1 be thy guide   in
 thy most need to go by thy side4       
,london  ,published by ,j4 ,m4 ,dent    
,co4  and in ,new ,york by  ,e4 ,p4     
,dutton  ,co4     ,first ,edition1      
,march #aijf4  ,reprinted ,may #aijf4   
,,editor',s ,,note4  ,a ,child's ,book  
of ,saints was first published in #ahih1
 when ,mr4 ,canton had already found his
 audience4  ,the book is a near         
successor indeed to his ,w4 ,v43 ,her   
,book1 and to ,the ,invisible ,playmate2
 and ,w4 ,v4 again acts as guardian elf 
and guide to this new region of the     
child's earthly paradise4  ,the ,saints 
are here treated with a simplicity that 
is almost or altogether childlike1 and  
with an unforced imagination which is   
only to be learnt by becoming as a      
child4  ,and this is perhaps why1       

although comparatively a new book1 it   
has the air of something pleasantly old1
 and written long ago2 and thus wins its
 way into the children's library of old 
favourite authors4   ,mr4 ,canton's     
published works1 up to ,january #aijf1  
comprise3--,a ,lost ,epic1 and other    
,poems1 #ahhg4  ,the ,invisible         
,playmate3 a ,story of the ,unseen1     
#ahid1 #ahig4  ,w4 ,v41 ,her ,book and  
,various ,verses1 #ahif4  ,a ,child's   
,book of ,saints1 #ahih1 #aijb4         
,children's ,sayings1 ,edited1 with a   
,digression on the ,small ,people1      
#aijj4  ,the ,true ,annals of ,fairyland
 7,the ,reign of ,king ,herla71 #aijj1  
c4  ,in ,memory of ,w4 ,v4 7,winifred   
,vida ,canton71 #aija4  ,the ,comrades3 
,poems1 ,old and ,new1 #aijb4  ,what is 
the ,bible ,society8 #aijc4  ,the ,story
 of the ,bible ,society1 #aijd4  ,a     
,history of the ,british and ,foreign   
,bible ,society1 #aijd4  ,little ,hands 
and ,god's ,book3 a ,sketch of the      
,bible ,society1 #ahjd-aijd1 #aije4     

,contents     ,,in ,,the ,,forest ,,of  
,,stone   ,,the ,,song ,,of ,,the       
,,minster   ,,the ,,pilgrim ,,of ,a     
,,night   ,,the ,,ancient ,,gods        
,,pursuing   ,,the ,,dream ,,of ,,the   
,,white ,,lark   ,,the ,,hermit ,,of    
,,the ,,pillar   ,,kenach',s ,,little   
,,woman   ,,golden ,,apples ,,and       
,,roses ,,red   ,,the ,,seven ,,years   
,,of ,,seeking   ,,the ,,guardians ,,of 
,,the ,,door   ,,on ,,the ,,shores ,,of 
,,longing   ,,the ,,children ,,of       
,,spinalunga   ,,the ,,sin ,,of ,,the   
,,prince ,,bishop   ,,the ,,little      
,,bedesman ,,of ,,christ   ,,the        
,,burning ,,of ,,abbot ,,spiridion      
,,the ,,countess ,,itha   ,,the ,,story 
,,of ,,the ,,lost ,,brother   ,,the     
,,king ,,orgulous   ,,the ,,journey ,,of
 ,,rheinfrid   ,,lighting ,,the ,,lamps 
,list of ,illustrations   ,women lived  
the life of prayer and praise and       
austerity and miracle  ,these are the   
fields in which the ,shepherds watched  
,hilary wondered and mused  ,a gaunt1   

dark figure1 far up in the blue ,asian  
sky  ,come not any nearer1 turn thy face
 to the forest1   and go down  ,i am not
 mad1 most noble ,sapricius  ,they won  
their long sea-way home  ,and four good 
,angels watch my bed1 two at the foot   
and two the head  ,and again in the keen
 ,november  ,the eight hundred horsemen 
turned in dismay  ,surely in all the    
world ,god has no more beautiful   house
 than this  ,st4 ,francis of ,assisi    
,itha rode away with her lord  ,king    
,orgulous     ,a saint1 whose very name 
,i have forgotten1 had a vision1 in     
which he saw ,satan standing before the 
throne of ,god2 and1 listening1 he heard
 the evil spirit say1 ,why hast ,thou   
condemned me1 who have offended ,thee   
but once1 whilst ,thou savest thousands 
of men who have offended ,thee many     
times8  ,god answered him1 ,hast thou   
once asked pardon of me8  ,behold the   
,christian mythology6  ,it is the       
dramatic truth1 which has its worth and 
effect independently of the literal     

truth1 and which even gains nothing by  
being fact4  ,what matter whether the   
saint had or had not heard the sublime  
words which ,i have just quoted6  ,the  
great point is to know that pardon is   
refused only to him who does not ask it4
  ,,count ,,de ,,maistre4     ,a        
,child's ,book of ,saints   ,in the     
,forest of ,stone  ,looking down the    
vista of trees and houses from the slope
 of our garden1 ,w4 ,v4 saw the roof and
 spire of the church of the ,oak-men    
showing well above the green huddle of  
the ,forest4  ,it is a pretty big       
church1 isn't it1 father8 she asked1 as 
she pointed it out to me4  ,it was a    
most picturesque old-fashioned church1  
though in my thoughtlessness ,i had     
mistaken it for a beech and a tall      
poplar growing apparently side by side2 
but the moment she spoke ,i perceived my
 illusion4  ,i expect1 if we were       
anywhere about on a ,sunday morning1 she
 surmised1 with a laugh1 we should see  
hundreds and hundreds of ,oak-girls and 

,oak-boys going in schools to service4  
,dressed in green silk1 with bronze     
boots and pink feathers--the colours of 
the new oak-leaves1 eh8  ,oh1 father1 it
 would be lovely6 in a burst of ecstasy4
  ,oughtn't we to go and find the way to
 their church8  ,we might do something  
much less amusing4  ,accordingly we took
 the bearings of the green spire with   
the skill of veteran explorers4  ,it lay
 due north1 so that if we travelled by  
the way of the ,north ,star we should be
 certain to find it4  ,wheeling the ,man
 before us1 we made a ,north ,star track
 for ourselves through the underwood and
 over last year's rustling beech-leaves1
 till ,guy ceased babbling and crooning1
 and dropped into a slumber1 as he soon 
does in the fresh of the morning4  ,then
 we had to go slowly for fear he should 
be wakened by the noise of the dead wood
 underfoot1 for1 as we passed over it   
with wheels and boots1 it snapped and   
crackled like a freshly-kindled fire4   
,it was a relief to get at last to the  

soft matting of brown needles and cones 
under the ,needle-trees1 for there we   
could go pretty quickly without either  
jolting him or making a racket4  ,we    
went as far as we were able that day1   
and we searched in glade and lawn1 in   
coppice and dingle1 but never a trace   
could we find of the sylvan minster     
where the ,oak-people worship4  ,as we  
wandered through the ,forest we came    
upon a number of notice boards nailed   
high up on the trunks of various trees1 
but when ,w4 ,v4 discovered that these  
only repeated the same stern legend3    
,caution4  ,persons breaking1 climbing  
upon1 or otherwise damaging1 she        
indignantly resented this incessant     
intrusion on the innocent enjoyment of  
free foresters4  ,how much nicer it     
would have been if there had been a hand
 on one of these repressive boards1 with
 the inscription3 ,this way to the      
,north ,star ,church2 or1 if a caution  
was really necessary for some of the    
people who entered the ,forest1 to say3 

,the public are requested not to disturb
 the ,elves1 ,birch-ladies1 and         
,oak-men2 but of course the most        
delightful thing would be to have a     
different fairy-tale written up in clear
 letters on each of the boards1 and a   
seat close by where one could rest and  
read it comfortably4  ,i told her there 
were several forests ,i had explored1 in
 which something like that was really   
done2 only the stories were not         
fairy-tales1 but legends of holy men and
 women2 and among the branches of the   
trees were fixed most beautifully       
coloured glass pictures of those holy   
people1 who had all lived and died1 and 
some of whom had been buried1 in those  
forests1 hundreds of years ago4  ,most  
of the forests were very ancient--older 
than the thrones of many kingdoms2 and  
men lived and delighted in them long    
before ,columbus sailed into unknown    
seas to discover ,america4  ,many1      
indeed1 had been blown down and         
destroyed by a terrible storm which     

swept over the world when ,henry ,,viii4
 ruled in ,england1 and only wrecks of  
them now remained for any one to see1   
but others1 which had survived the wild 
weather of those days1 were as wonderful
 and as lovely as a dream4  ,the tall   
trees in them sent out curving branches 
which interlaced high overhead1 shutting
 out the blue sky and making a sweet and
 solemn dimness1 and nearly all the     
light that streamed in between the fair 
round trunks and the arching boughs was 
like that of a splendid sunset1 only it 
was there all day long and never faded  
out till night fell4  ,and in some of   
the forests there were great magical    
roses1 of a hundred brilliant colours   
crowded together1 and as big as the     
biggest cart-wheel1 or bigger4  ,these  
woods were places of happy quietude and 
comfort and gladness of heart2 but1     
instead of ,oak-men1 there were many    
,angels4  ,here and there1 too1 in the  
silent avenues1 mighty warriors and     
saintly abbots1 and statesmen bishops1  

and it might be even a king or a queen1 
had been buried2 and over their graves  
there were sometimes images of them     
lying carved in marble or alabaster1 and
 sometimes there had been built the     
loveliest little chapels all sculptured 
over with tracery of flowers and        
foliage4  ,true1 father8  ,true as true1
 dear4  ,some day ,i shall take you to  
see for yourself4   ,we know a dip in a 
dingle where the woodcutters have left a
 log among the hazels1 and here1 having 
wheeled ,guy into a dappling of sunny   
discs and leaf-shadows in a grassy bay1 
we sat down on the log1 and talked in an
 undertone4  ,our failure to find the   
,oak-men's church reminded me of the old
 legends of lost and invisible churches1
 the bells of which are heard ringing   
under the snow1 or in the depths of the 
woods1 or far away in burning deserts1  
or fathom-deep beneath the blue sea2 but
 the pilgrim or the chance wayfarer who 
has heard the music of the bells has    
never succeeded in discovering the way  

that leads to the lost church4 ,it is on
 the clear night of ,st4 ,john's ,day1  
the longest day of the year1 or on the  
last hour of ,christmas ,eve1 that these
 bells are heard pealing most sweet and 
clear4  ,it was in this way that we came
 to tell ,christian legends and to talk 
of saints and hermits1 of old abbeys and
 minsters1 of visions and miracles and  
the ministry of ,angels4  ,guy1 ,w4 ,v4 
thought1 might be able1 if only he could
 speak1 to tell us much about heaven and
 the ,angels2 it was so short a time    
since he left them4  ,she herself had   
quite forgotten1 but1                   
then--deprecatingly--it was so long and 
long and long ago2 eight years1 a long  
time for me4  ,the faith and the strange
 vivid daydreams of the ,middle ,ages   
were a new world into which she was     
being led along enchanted footpaths2    
quite different from the worldly world  
of the ,old ,romans1 and of ,english    
history2 more real it seemed and more   
credible1 for all its wonders1 than the 

world of elves and water-maidens4       
,delightful as it was1 it was scarce    
believable that fairies ever carried a  
little girl up above the tree-tops and  
swung her in the air from one to        
another2 but when ,st4 ,catherine of    
,siena was a little child1 and went to  
be a hermit in the woods1 and got       
terribly frightened1 and lost her way1  
and sat down to cry1 the ,angels1 you   
know1 did really and truly waft her up  
on their wings and carried her to the   
valley of ,fontebranda1 which was very  
near home4  ,and when she was quite a   
little thing and used to say her prayers
 going up to bed1 the ,angels would come
 to her and just whip her right up the  
stairs in an instant6  ,occasionally    
these legends brought us to the awful   
brink of religious controversies and    
insoluble mysteries1 but1 like those    
gentle savages who honour the           
water-spirits by hanging garlands from  
tree to tree across the river1 ,w4 ,v4  
could always fling a bridge of flowers  

over our abysses4  ,our sense1 she would
 declare1 is nothing to ,god's2 and     
though big people have more sense than  
children1 the sense of all the big      
people in the world put together would  
be no sense to ,his4  ,we are only      
little babies to ,him2 we do not        
understand ,him at all4 ,nothing seemed 
clearer to her than the reasonableness  
of one legend which taught that though  
,god always answers our prayers1 ,he    
does not always answer in the way we    
would like1 but in some better way than 
we know4  ,yes1 she observed1 ,he is    
just a dear old ,father4  ,anything     
about our ,lord engrossed her           
imagination2 and it was a frequent wish 
of hers that ,he would come again4      
,then1--poor perplexed little mortal6   
whose difficulties one could not even   
guess at--we should be quite sure of    
things4  ,miss ,catherine tells us from 
books3 ,he would tell us from ,his      
memory4  ,people would not be so cruel  
to ,him now4  ,queen ,victoria would not

 allow any one to crucify ,him4  ,i     
don't think that ,w4 ,v41 in spite of   
her confidence in my good faith1 was    
quite convinced of the existence of     
those old forests of which ,i had told  
her1 until ,i explained that they were  
forests of stone1 which1 if men did not 
mar them1 would blossom for centuries   
unchanged1 though the hands that planted
 them had long been blown in dust about 
the world4  ,she understood all that ,i 
meant when we visited ,york and         
,westminster1 and walked through the    
long avenues of stone palms and pines1  
with their overarching boughs1 and gazed
 at the marvellous rose-windows in which
 all the jewels of the world seemed to  
have been set1 and saw the colours      
streaming through the gorgeous lancets  
and high many-lighted casements4  ,after
 that it was delightful to turn over    
engravings and photographs of ruined    
abbeys and famous old churches at home  
and abroad1 and to anticipate the good  
time when we should visit them together1

 and perhaps not only descend into the  
crypts but go through the curious       
galleries which extend over the pillars 
of the nave1 and even climb up to the   
leaded roof of the tower1 or dare the   
long windy staircases and ladders which 
mount into the spire1 and so look down  
on the quaint map of streets1 and       
houses1 and gardens1 and squares1       
hundreds of feet below4  ,she liked to  
hear how some of those miracles of stone
 had been fashioned and completed--how  
monks in the days of old had travelled  
over the land with the relics of saints1
 collecting treasure of all sorts for   
the expense of the work2 how sometimes  
the people came in hundreds dragging    
great oaks and loads of quarried stone1 
and bringing fat hogs1 beans1 corn1 and 
beer for the builders and their workmen2
 how even queens carried block or beam  
to the masons1 so that with their own   
hands they might help in the glorious   
labour2 and poor old women gave         
assistance by cooking food and washing  

and spinning and weaving and making and 
mending2 how when the foundations were  
blessed kings and princes and powerful  
barons laid each a stone1 and when the  
choir sang the antiphon1 ,and the       
foundations of the wall were garnished  
with all manner of precious stones1 they
 threw costly rings and jewels and      
chains of gold into the trench2 and how 
years and generations passed away1 and  
abbots and bishops and architects and   
masons and sculptors and labourers died1
 but new men took their places1 and     
still the vast work went on1 and the    
beautiful pile rose higher and higher   
into the everlasting heavens4  ,then1   
too1 we looked back at the vanished     
times when the world was all so         
different from our world of to-day2 and 
in green and fruitful spots among the   
hills and on warm river-lawns and in    
olden cities of narrow streets and      
overhanging roofs1 there were countless 
abbeys and priories and convents2 and   
thousands of men and women lived the    

life of prayer and praise and austerity 
and miracle and vision which is         
described in the legends of the ,saints4
  ,we lingered in the pillared cloisters
 where the black-letter chronicles were 
written in ,latin1 and music was scored 
and hymns were composed1 and many a rare
 manuscript was illuminated in crimson  
and blue and emerald and gold2 and we   
looked through the fair arches into the 
cloister-garth where in the green sward 
a grave lay ever ready to receive the   
remains of the next brother who should  
pass away from this little earth to the 
glory of ,paradise4  ,what struck ,w4   
,v4 perhaps most of all was1 that in    
some leafy places these holy houses were
 so ancient that even the blackbirds and
 throstles had learned to repeat some of
 the cadences of the church music1 and  
in those places the birds still continue
 to pipe them1 though nothing now       
remains of church or monastery except   
the name of some field or street or     
well1 which people continue to use out  

of old habit and custom4  ,illustration3
 ,women lived the life of prayer and    
praise   ,it was with the thought of    
helping the busy little brain to realise
 something of that bygone existence1    
with its strange modes of thought1 its  
unquestioning faith in the unseen and   
eternal1 its vivid consciousness of the 
veiled but constant presence of the holy
 and omnipotent ,god1 its stern         
self-repression and its tender charity1 
its lovely ideals and haunting legends1 
that ,i told ,w4 ,v4 the stories in this
 little book4  ,it mattered little to   
her or to me that that existence had its
 dark shadows contrasting with its      
celestial light3 it was the light that  
concerned us1 not the shadows4  ,some of
 the stories were told on the log1 while
 ,guy slept in his mail-cart in the     
dappled shelter of the dingle2 others by
 a winter fire when the days were short1
 and the cry of the wind in the dark    
made it easy for one to believe in      
wolves2 others in the ,surrey hills1 a  

year ago1 in a sandy hollow crowned with
 bloom of the ling1 and famous for a    
little pool where the martins alight to 
drink and star the mud with a maze of   
claw-tracks2 and yet again1 others1 this
 year1#a under the dry roof of the pines
 of ,anstiebury1 when the fosse of the  
old ,briton settlement was dripping with
 wet1 and the woods were dim with the   
smoke of rain1 and the paths were red   
with the fallen bloom of the red        
chestnuts and white with the flourish of
 ,may and brown with the catkins of the 
oak1 and the cuckoo1 calling in ,mosses 
,wood1 was answered from ,redlands and  
the ,warren1 and the pines where we sat 
7snug and dry7 looked so solemn and dark
 that1 with a little fancy1 it was easy 
to change the living greenwood into the 
forest of stone4  ,as they were told1   
under the pressure of an insatiable     
listener1 so have they been written1    
save for such a phrase1 here and there1 
as slips more readily from the pen than 
from the tongue4  ,of the stories which 

were told1 but which have not been      
written for this book1 if ,w4 ,v4 should
 question me1 ,i shall answer in the    
wise words of the ,greybeard of         
,broce-,liande3 ,however hot thy thirst1
 and however pleasant to assuage it1    
leave clear water in the well4    #a    
,the year of the happy hills1 #ahih4    
,the ,song of the ,minster  ,when ,john 
of ,fulda became ,prior of ,hethholme1  
says the old chronicle1 he brought with 
him to the ,abbey many rare and costly  
books--beautiful illuminated missals and
 psalters and portions of the ,old and  
,new ,testament4  ,and he presented rich
 vestments to the ,minster2 albs of fine
 linen1 and copes embroidered with      
flowers of gold4  ,in the west front he 
built two great arched windows filled   
with marvellous storied glass4  ,the    
shrine of ,st4 ,egwin he repaired at    
vast outlay1 adorning it with garlands  
in gold and silver1 but the colour of   
the flowers was in coloured gems1 and in
 like fashion the little birds in the   

nooks of the foliage4  ,stalls and      
benches of carved oak he placed in the  
choir2 and many other noble works he had
 wrought in his zeal for the glory of   
,god's house4  ,in all the western land 
was there no more fair or stately       
,minster than this of the ,black ,monks1
 with the peaceful township on one side1
 and on the other the sweet meadows and 
the acres of wheat and barley sloping   
down to the slow river1 and beyond the  
river the clearings in the ancient      
forest4  ,but ,thomas the ,sub-prior was
 grieved and troubled in his mind by the
 richness and the beauty of all he saw  
about him1 and by the ,prior's eagerness
 to be ever adding some new work in     
stone1 or oak1 or metal1 or jewels4     
,surely1 he said to himself1 these      
things are unprofitable--less to the    
honour of ,god than to the pleasure of  
the eye and the pride of life and the   
luxury of our house6  ,had so much      
treasure not been wasted on these       
vanities of bright colour and carved    

stone1 our dole to the poor of ,christ  
might have been fourfold1 and they      
filled with good things4 ,but now let   
our almoner do what best he may1 ,i     
doubt not many a leper sleeps cold1 and 
many a poor man goes lean with hunger4  
,this the ,sub-prior said1 not because  
his heart was quick with fellowship for 
the poor1 but because he was of a narrow
 and gloomy and grudging nature1 and he 
could conceive of no true service of    
,god which was not one of fasting and   
praying1 of fear and trembling1 of      
joylessness and mortification4  ,now you
 must know that the greatest of the     
monks and the hermits and the holy men  
were not of this kind4  ,in their love  
of ,god they were blithe of heart1 and  
filled with a rare sweetness and        
tranquillity of soul1 and they looked on
 the goodly earth with deep joy1 and    
they had a tender care for the wild     
creatures of wood and water4  ,but      
,thomas had yet much to learn of the    
beauty of holiness4  ,often in the bleak

 dark hours of the night he would leave 
his cell and steal into the ,minster1 to
 fling himself on the cold stones before
 the high altar2 and there he would     
remain1 shivering and praying1 till his 
strength failed him4  ,it happened one  
winter night1 when the thoughts ,i have 
spoken of had grown very bitter in his  
mind1 ,thomas guided his steps by the   
glimmer of the sanctuary lamp to his    
accustomed place in the choir4  ,falling
 on his knees1 he laid himself on his   
face with the palms of his outstretched 
hands flat on the icy pavement4  ,and as
 he lay there1 taking a cruel joy in the
 freezing cold and the torture of his   
body1 he became gradually aware of a    
sound of far-away yet most heavenly     
music4  ,he raised himself to his knees 
to listen1 and to his amazement he      
perceived that the whole ,minster was   
pervaded by a faint mysterious light1   
which was every instant growing brighter
 and clearer4  ,and as the light        
increased the music grew louder and     

sweeter1 and he knew that it was within 
the sacred walls4  ,but it was no mortal
 minstrelsy4  ,the strains he heard were
 the minglings of angelic instruments1  
and the cadences of voices of unearthly 
loveliness4  ,they seemed to proceed    
from the choir about him1 and from the  
nave and transept and aisles2 from the  
pictured windows and from the clerestory
 and from the vaulted roofs4  ,under his
 knees he felt that the crypt was       
throbbing and droning like a huge organ4
  ,sometimes the song came from one part
 of the ,minster1 and then all the rest 
of the vast building was silent2 then   
the music was taken up1 as it were in   
response1 in another part2 and yet again
 voices and instruments would blend in  
one indescribable volume of harmony1    
which made the huge pile thrill and     
vibrate from roof to pavement4  ,as     
,thomas listened1 his eyes became       
accustomed to the celestial light which 
encompassed him1 and he saw--he could   
scarce credit his senses that he        

saw--the little carved angels of the oak
 stalls in the choir clashing their     
cymbals and playing their psalteries4   
,he rose to his feet1 bewildered and    
half terrified4  ,at that moment the    
mighty roll of unison ceased1 and from  
many parts of the church there came a   
concord of clear high voices1 like a    
warbling of silver trumpets1 and ,thomas
 heard the words they sang4  ,and the   
words were these--        ,tibi omnes   
,angeli4   ,to ,thee all ,angels cry    
aloud4  ,so close to him were two of    
these voices that ,thomas looked up to  
the spandrels in the choir1 and he saw  
that it was the carved angels leaning   
out of the spandrels that were singing4 
,and as they sang the breath came from  
their stone lips white and vaporous into
 the frosty air4  ,he trembled with awe 
and astonishment1 but the wonder of what
 was happening drew him towards the     
altar4  ,the beautiful tabernacle work  
of the altar screen contained a double  
range of niches filled with the statues 

of saints and kings2 and these1 he saw1 
were singing4  ,he passed slowly onward 
with his arms outstretched1 like a blind
 man who does not know the way he is    
treading4  ,the figures on the painted  
glass of the lancets were singing4  ,the
 winged heads of the baby angels over   
the marble memorial slabs were singing4 
,the lions and griffons and mythical    
beasts of the finials were singing4     
,the effigies of dead abbots and priors 
were singing on their tombs in bay and  
chantry4  ,the figures in the frescoes  
on the walls were singing4  ,on the     
painted ceiling westward of the tower   
the verses of the ,te ,deum1 inscribed  
in letters of gold above the shields of 
kings and princes and barons1 were      
visible in the divine light1 and the    
very words of these verses were singing1
 like living things4  ,and the breath of
 all these as they sang turned to a     
smoke as of incense in the wintry air1  
and floated about the high pillars of   
the ,minster4  ,suddenly the music      

ceased1 all save the deep organ-drone4  
,then ,thomas heard the marvellous      
antiphon repeated in the bitter darkness
 outside2 and that music1 he knew1 must 
be the response of the galleries of     
stone kings and queens1 of abbots and   
virgin martyrs1 over the western        
portals1 and of the monstrous gargoyles 
along the eaves4  ,when the music ceased
 in the outer darkness1 it was taken up 
again in the interior of the ,minster4  
,at last there came one stupendous      
united cry of all the singers1 and in   
that cry even the organ-drone of the    
crypt1 and the clamour of the brute     
stones of pavement and pillar1 of wall  
and roof1 broke into words articulate4  
,and the words were these3        ,per  
singulos dies1 benedicimus ,te4   ,day  
by day3 we magnify ,thee1   ,and we     
worship ,thy name3 ever world without   
end4   ,as the wind of the summer       
changes into the sorrowful wail of the  
yellowing woods1 so the strains of      
joyous worship changed into a wail of   

supplication2 and as he caught the      
words1 ,thomas too raised his voice in  
wild entreaty3      ,miserere nostri1   
,domine1 miserere nostri4   ,o ,lord1   
have mercy upon us3 have mercy upon us4 
,and then his senses failed him1 and he 
sank to the ground in a long swoon4     
,when he came to himself all was still1 
and all was dark save for the little    
yellow flower of light in the sanctuary 
lamp4  ,as he crept back to his cell he 
saw with unsealed eyes how churlishly he
 had grudged ,god the glory of man's    
genius and the service of ,his dumb     
creatures1 the metal of the hills1 and  
the stone of the quarry1 and the timber 
of the forest2 for now he knew that at  
all seasons1 and whether men heard the  
music or not1 the ear of ,god was filled
 by day and by night with an everlasting
 song from each stone of the vast       
,minster3    ,we magnify ,thee1   ,and  
we worship ,thy name3 ever world without
 end4     ,the ,pilgrim of a ,night  ,in
 the ancient days of faith the doors of 

the churches used to be opened with the 
first glimmer of the dawn in summer1 and
 long before the moon had set in winter2
 and many a ditcher and woodcutter and  
ploughman on his way to work used to    
enter and say a short prayer before     
beginning the labour of the long day4   
,now it happened that in ,spain there   
was a farm-labourer named ,isidore1 who 
went daily to his early prayer1 whatever
 the weather might be4  ,his            
fellow-workmen were slothful and        
careless1 and they gibed and jeered at  
his piety1 but when they found that     
their mockery had no effect upon him1   
they spoke spitefully of him in the     
hearing of the master1 and accused him  
of wasting in prayer the time which he  
should have given to his work4  ,when   
the farmer heard of this he was         
displeased1 and he spoke to ,isidore and
 bade him remember that true and        
faithful service was better than any    
prayer that could be uttered in words4  
,master1 replied ,isidore1 what you say 

is true1 but it is also true that no    
time is ever lost in prayer4  ,those who
 pray have ,god to work with them1 and  
the ploughshare which ,he guides draws  
as goodly and fruitful a furrow as      
another4  ,this the master could not    
deny1 but he resolved to keep a watch on
 ,isidore's comings and goings1 and     
early on the morrow he went to the      
fields4  ,in the sharp air of the autumn
 morning he saw this one and that one of
 his men sullenly following the plough  
behind the oxen1 and taking little joy  
in the work4  ,then1 as he passed on to 
the rising ground1 he heard a lark      
carolling gaily in the grey sky1 and in 
the hundred-acre where ,isidore was     
engaged he saw to his amazement not one 
plough but three turning the hoary      
stubble into ruddy furrows4  ,and one   
plough was drawn by oxen and guided by  
,isidore1 but the two others were drawn 
and guided by ,angels of heaven4  ,when 
next the master spoke to ,isidore it was
 not to reproach him1 but to beg that he

 might be remembered in his prayers4    
,now the one great longing of ,isidore's
 life was to visit that hallowed and    
happy country beyond the sea in which   
our ,lord lived and died for us4  ,he   
longed to gaze on the fields in which   
the ,shepherds heard the song of the    
,angels1 and to know each spot named in 
the ,gospels4  ,all that he could save  
from his earnings ,isidore hoarded up1  
so that one day1 before he was old1 he  
might set out on pilgrimage to the ,holy
 ,land4  ,it took many years to swell   
the leather bag in which he kept his    
treasure2 and each coin told of some    
pleasure1 or comfort1 or necessary which
 he had denied himself4  ,now1 when at  
length the bag was grown heavy1 and it  
began to appear not impossible that he  
might yet have his heart's desire1 there
 came to his door an aged pilgrim with  
staff and scallop-shell1 who craved food
 and shelter for the night4  ,isidore   
bade him welcome1 and gave him such     
homely fare as he might--bread and      

apples and cheese and thin wine1 and    
satisfied his hunger and thirst4  ,long 
they talked together of the holy places 
and of the joy of treading the sacred   
dust that had borne the marks of the    
feet of ,christ4  ,then the pilgrim     
spoke of the long and weary journey he  
had yet to go1 begging his way from     
village to village 7for his scrip was   
empty7 till he could prevail on some    
good mariner to give him ship-room and  
carry him to the green isle of home1 far
 away on the edge of sunset4 ,thinking  
of those whom he had left and who might 
be dead before he could return1 the     
pilgrim wept1 and his tears so moved the
 heart of ,isidore that he brought forth
 his treasure and said3  ,this have ,i  
saved in the great hope that one day ,i 
might set eyes on what thou hast beheld1
 and sit on the shores of the ,lake of  
,galilee1 and gaze on the hill of       
,calvary4  ,but thy need is very great4 
,take it1 and hasten home 7ere they be  
dead7 to those who love thee and look   

for thy coming2 and if thou findest them
 alive bid them pray for me4  ,and when 
they had prayed together ,isidore and   
the pilgrim lay down to sleep4   ,in the
 first sweet hours of the restful night 
,isidore became aware that he was       
walking among strange fields on a       
hillside1 and on the top of a hill some 
distance away there were the white walls
 and low flat-roofed houses of a little 
town2 and some one was speaking to him  
and saying1 ,these are the fields in    
which the ,shepherds watched1 and that  
rocky pathway leads up the slope to     
,bethlehem4  ,illustration3 ,these are  
the fields in which the ,shepherds      
watched  ,at the sound of the voice     
,isidore hastily looked round1 and      
behind him was the pilgrim1 and yet he  
knew that it was not truly the pilgrim1 
but an ,angel disguised in pilgrim's    
weeds4  ,and when he would have fallen  
at the ,angel's feet1 the ,angel stopped
 him and said1 ,be not afraid2 ,i have  
been sent to show thee all the holy     

places that thy heart has longed to see4
  ,on valley and hill and field and     
stream there now shone so clear and     
wonderful a light that even a long way  
off the very flowers by the roadside    
were distinctly visible4  ,without      
effort and without weariness ,isidore   
glided from place to place as though it 
were a dream4  ,and ,i cannot tell the  
half of what he saw1 for the ,angel took
 him to the village where ,jesus was a  
little child1 which is called ,nazareth1
 the flower-village2 and he showed him  
the ,river ,jordan flowing through dark 
green woods1 and ,hermon the high       
mountain1 glittering with snow 7and the 
snow of that mountain is exceeding old71
 and the blue ,lake of ,gennesareth1    
with its fishing-craft1 and the busy    
town of ,capernaum on the great road to 
,damascus1 and ,nain where ,jesus       
watched the little children playing at  
funerals and marriages in the           
market-place1 and the wilderness where  
,he was with the wild beasts1 and       

,bethany where ,lazarus lived and died  
and was brought to life again 7and in   
the fields of ,bethany ,isidore gathered
 a bunch of wild flowers71 and          
,jerusalem the holy city1 and           
,gethsemane with its aged silver-grey   
olive-trees1 and the hill of ,calvary1  
where in the darkness a great cry went  
up to heaven3 ,why hast ,thou forsaken  
me8 and the new tomb in the white rock  
among the myrtles and rose-trees in the 
garden4  ,there was no place that       
,isidore had desired to see that was    
denied to him4  ,and in all these places
 he saw the children's children of the  
children of those who had looked on the 
face of the ,saviour--men and women and 
little ones--going to and fro in        
strangely coloured clothing1 in the     
manner of those who had sat down on the 
green grass and been fed with bread and 
fishes4  ,and at the thought of this    
,isidore wept4  ,why dost thou weep8 the
 ,angel asked4  ,i weep that ,i was not 
alive to look on the face of the ,lord4 

,then suddenly1 as though it were a     
dream1 they were on the sea-shore1 and  
it was morning4  ,and ,isidore saw on   
the sparkling sea a fisher-ship drifting
 a little way from the shore1 but there 
was no one in it2 and on the shore a    
boat was aground2 and half on the sand  
and half in the wash of the sea there   
were swathes of brown nets filled with a
 hundred great fish which flounced and  
glittered in the sun2 and on the sand   
there was a coal fire with fish broiling
 on it1 and on one side of the fire     
seven men--one of them kneeling and     
shivering in his drenched fisher's      
coat--and on the other side of the fire 
a benign and majestic figure1 on whom   
the men were gazing in great joy and    
awe4  ,and ,isidore1 knowing that this  
was the ,lord1 gazed too at ,christ     
standing there in the sun4  ,and this   
was what he beheld3 a man of lofty      
stature and most grave and beautiful    
countenance4  ,his eyes were blue and   
very brilliant1 his cheeks were slightly

 tinged with red1 and his hair was of   
the ruddy golden colour of wine4  ,from 
the top of his head to his ears it was  
straight and without radiance2 but from 
his ears to his shoulders and down his  
back it fell in shining curls and       
clusters4  ,again all was suddenly      
changed1 and ,isidore and the ,angel    
were alone4  ,thou hast seen1 said the  
,angel2 give me thy hand so that thou   
shalt not forget4  ,isidore stretched   
out his hand1 and the ,angel opened it1 
and turning the palm upward1 struck it4 
,isidore groaned with the sharp pain of 
the stroke1 and sank into               
unconsciousness4  ,when he awoke in the 
morning the sun was high in the heavens1
 and the pilgrim had departed on his    
way4  ,but the hut was filled with a    
heavenly fragrance1 and on his bed      
,isidore perceived the wild flowers that
 he had plucked in the fields of        
,bethany--red anemones and blue lupins  
and yellow marigolds1 with many others  
more sweet and lovely than the flowers  

that grew in the fields or ,spain4      
,then surely1 he cried1 it was not      
merely a dream4  ,and looking at his    
hand1 he saw that the palm bore blue    
tracings such as one sees on the arms of
 wanderers and seafaring men4  ,these   
marks1 ,isidore learned afterwards1 were
 the ,hebrew letters that spelt the name
 ,,jerusalem4  ,as long as he lived     
those letters recalled to his mind all  
the marvels that had been shown him4    
,and they did more than this1 for       
whenever his eyes fell on them he said1 
,blessed be the promise of the ,lord the
 ,redeemer of ,israel1 who hath us in   
,his care for evermore6  ,now these are 
the words of that promise3  ,can a woman
 forget her sucking child1 that she     
should not have compassion on the son of
 her womb8  ,yea1 they may forget1 yet  
will ,i not forget thee4  ,behold1 ,i   
have engraven thee upon the palms of my 
hands4     ,the ,ancient ,gods ,pursuing
  ,i will now tell of ,hilary and his   
companions1 who came over the snowy     

passes of the ,alps1 and carried the    
lamp of faith into the north2 and this  
was in the days of the ancient gods4    
,many of their shrines had ,hilary      
overturned1 and broken their images1 and
 cut down their sacred trees1 and denied
 their wells of healing4  ,wherefore    
terrible phantoms pursued him in his    
dreams1 and in the darkness1 and in the 
haunted ways of the woods and mountains4
  ,at one time it was the brute-god     
,pan1 who sought to madden him with the 
terror of his piping in desolate places2
 at another it was the sun-god ,apollo1 
who threatened him with fiery arrows in 
the parching heat of noon2 or it was    
,pallas ,athene1 who appeared to him in 
visions1 and shook in his face the      
,gorgon's head1 which turns to stone all
 living creatures who look on it4  ,but 
the holy ,bishop made the sign of the   
cross of the ,lord1 and the right arm of
 their power was broken1 and their      
malice could not harm him4  ,the holy   
men traversed the mountains by that     

,roman road which climbed up the icy    
rocks and among the snowy peaks of the  
,mountain of ,jove1 and at sundown they 
came to that high temple of ,jove which 
had crowned the pass for many centuries4
  ,the statue of the great father-god of
 ,rome had been hurled down the ravine  
into the snow-drift1 and his altar had  
been flung into the little wintry mere  
which shivers in the pass1 and his last 
priest had died of old age a lifetime   
ago2 and the temple was now but a cold  
harbour for merchants and soldiers and  
wandering men4  ,here in the freezing   
air the apostles rested from their      
journey1 but in the dead of the night   
,hilary was awakened by a clamour of    
forlorn voices1 and opening his eyes he 
saw the mighty father-god of ,olympus   
looking down upon him with angry brows1 
and brandishing in his hand red flashes 
of lightning4  ,in no way daunted1 the  
,bishop sprang to his feet1 and cried in
 a loud voice1 ,in the name of ,him who 
was crucified1 depart to your torments6 

,and at the sound of that cry the       
colossal figure of the god wavered and  
broke like a mountain cloud when it     
crumbles in the wind1 and glimmering    
shapes of goddesses and nymphs flitted  
past1 sighing and lamenting2 and the    
,bishop saw no longer anything but the  
sharp cold stars1 and the white peaks   
and the ridges of the mountains4  ,when 
they had descended and reached the green
 valleys1 they came at length to a great
 lake1 blue and beautiful to look upon1 
and here they sojourned for a while4    
,it was a fair and pleasant land1 but   
the people were rude and barbarous1 and 
drove them away with stones when they   
would enter their hamlets4  ,so1 as they
 needed food1 ,hilary bade his          
companions gather berries and wild      
herbs1 and he himself set snares for    
birds1 and wove a net to cast into the  
lake1 and made himself a raft of        
pine-trees1 from which he might cast it 
the more easily4  ,one night as he      
floated on this raft in the starlight1  

he heard the voice of the ,spirit of the
 ,peak calling to the ,spirit of the    
,mere4  ,and the ,spirit of the ,mere   
answered1 ,speak1 ,i am listening4      
,then the ,mountain ,spirit cried1      
,arise1 then1 and come to my aid2 alone 
,i cannot chase away these men who are  
driving out all the ancient gods from   
their shrines in the land4  ,the ,water 
,spirit answered1 ,of what avail is our 
strength against theirs8  ,here on the  
starry waters is one whose nets ,i      
cannot break1 and whose boat ,i cannot  
overturn4  ,without ceasing he prays1   
and never are his eyes closed in        
slumber4  ,then ,hilary arose on his    
raft1 and raising his hand to heaven    
cried against the ,spirit of the ,peak  
and the ,spirit of the ,mere3 ,in the   
name of ,him crucified1 be silent for   
evermore1 and leave these hills and     
waters to the servants of ,god4  ,and   
these creatures of evil were stricken   
dumb1 and they fled in dismay1 making a 
great moaning and sobbing1 and the      

dolorous sound was as that of the wind  
in the pines and the water on the rocks4
  ,then ,hilary and his companions fared
 away into the north1 through the ,grey 
,waste1 which is a wild and deserted    
country where in the olden time vast    
armies had passed with fire and sword2  
and now the field had turned into       
wildwood and morass1 and the rich       
townsteads were barrows of ruins and    
ashes overgrown with brambles1 and had  
been given for a lodging to the savage  
beasts4  ,the name of this waste was    
more terrible than the place1 for the   
season was sweet and gracious1 and of   
birds and fish and herbs and wild honey 
there was no dearth4  ,they were now no 
longer harassed by the phantoms of the  
ancient gods1 or by the evil spirits of 
the unblessed earth4  ,thus for many    
long leagues was their journey made easy
 for them4  ,now it chanced1 when they  
had reached the further edge of this    
region1 that as they went one night     
belated along a green riding1 which in  

the old time had been a spacious paved  
causeway between rich cities1 they heard
 the music of a harp1 more marvellously 
sweet and solacing than any mortal      
minstrel may make2 and sweet            
dream-voices sighed to them ,follow1    
follow6 and they felt their feet drawn  
as by enchantment2 and as they yielded  
to the magical power1 a soft shining    
filled the dusky air1 and they saw that 
the ground was covered with soft deep   
grass and brilliant flowers1 and the    
trees were of the colour of gold and    
silver4 ,so in strange gladness1 and    
feeling neither hunger nor fatigue1 they
 went forward through the hours of the  
night till the dawn1 wondering what     
angelic ministry was thus beguiling them
 of hardship and pain4 ,but with the    
first gleam of the dawn the music ceased
 amid mocking laughter1 the vision of   
lovely woodland vanished away1 and in   
the grey light they found themselves on 
the quaking green edges of a deep and   
dangerous marsh4  ,hilary1 when he saw  

this1 groaned in spirit and said3 ,o    
dear sons1 we have deserved this        
befooling and misguidance1 for have we  
not forgotten the behest of our ,master1
 ',watch and pray lest ye enter into    
temptation'8  ,now when after much      
toilsomeness they had won clear of that 
foul tract of morass and quagmire1 they 
came upon vast herds of swine grubbing  
beneath the oaks1 and with them         
savage-looking swineherds scantily clad 
in skins4  ,still further north they    
caught sight of the squalid hovels and  
wood piles of charcoal burners2 and     
still they pursued their way till they  
cleared the dense forest and beheld     
before them a long range of hills blue  
in the distant air4  ,towards sundown   
they came on a stony moorland1 rough    
with heather and bracken and tufts of   
bent2 and when there was but one long   
band of red light parting the distant   
land from the low sky1 they descried a  
range of thick posts standing high and  
black against the red in the heavens4   

,as they drew near1 these1 they         
discovered1 were the huge granite       
pillars of a great ring of stone and of 
an avenue which led up to it2 and in the
 midst of the ring was a mighty flat    
stone borne up on three stout pillars1  
so that it looked like a wondrous stone 
house of some strong folk of the        
beginning of days4  ,this1 too1         
companions1 said ,hilary1 is a temple of
 false gods4  ,very ancient gods of a   
world gone by are these1 and it may be  
they have been long dead like their     
worshippers1 and their names are no more
 spoken in the world4  ,further we may  
not go this night2 but on these stones  
we shall put the sign of the blessed    
tree of our redemption1 and in its      
shelter shall we sleep4  ,as they slept 
that night in the lee of the stones     
,hilary saw in a dream the place wherein
 they lay2 and the great stones1 he was 
aware1 were not true stones of the rock1
 but petrified trees1 and in his spirit 
he knew that these trees of stone were  

growths of that ,forbidden ,tree with   
the fruit of which the ,serpent tempted 
our first mother in ,paradise4 ,on the  
morrow when they rose1 he strove to     
overthrow the huge pillars1 but to this 
labour their strength was not equal4    
,this same day was the day of ,st4      
,john1 the longest in all the year1 and 
they travelled far1 till at last in the 
long afternoon they arrived in sight of 
a cluster of little homesteads1 clay    
huts thatched with bracken and fenced   
about with bushes of poison-thorn1 and  
of tilled crofts sloping down the       
hillside to a clear river wending       
through the valley4  ,as ,hilary and his
 companions approached they saw that it 
was a day of rejoicing and merry-making 
among the people1 for they were all     
abroad1 feasting and drinking from great
 mead horns in the open air1 and        
shouting barbarous songs to the noise of
 rude instruments4  ,when it grew to    
such duskiness as there may be in a     
midsummer night countless fires were    

lit1 near at hand and far away1 on the  
hills around2 and on the ridges above   
the river children ran about with       
blazing brands of pine-wood1 and young  
men and maidens gathered at the flaming 
beacon4 ,wheels1 too1 wrapped round tire
 and spoke with straw and flax smeared  
with pine-tree gum1 were set alight and 
sent rolling down the hill to the river1
 amid wild cries and clapping of hands4 
,some of the wheels went awry and were  
stayed among the boulders2 on some the  
flames died out2 but there were those   
which reached the river and plunged into
 the water and were extinguished2 and   
the owners of these last deemed         
themselves fortunate in their omens1 for
 these fiery wheels were images of the  
sun in heaven1 and their course to the  
river was the forecasting of his        
prosperous journey through the year to  
come4  ,thus these outland people held  
their festival1 and ,hilary marvelled to
 see the many fires1 for he had not     
known that the land held so many folk4  

,but now when it was time for the       
wayfarers to cast about in their minds  
how and where they should pass the      
night1 there came to them a stranger1 a 
grave and seemly man clad in the manner 
of the ,romans1 and he bowed low to     
them1 and said3 ,o saintly men1 the     
,lady ,pelagia hath heard of your coming
 into this land1 and she knows that you 
have come to teach men the new faith1   
for she is a great lady1 mistress of    
vast demesnes1 and many messengers bring
 her tidings of all that happens4  ,she 
bids me greet you humbly and prevail on 
you to come and abide this night in her 
house1 which is but a little way from   
here4  ,is your lady of ,rome8 asked    
,hilary4  ,from ,rome she came hither1  
said the messenger1 but aforetime she   
was of ,greece1 and she hath great      
friendship for all wise and holy men4   
,the wayfarers were surprised to hear of
 this lady1 but they were rejoiced that1
 after such long wandering1 there was   
some one to welcome them where least    

they had expected word of welcome1 and  
they followed the messenger4  ,horn     
lantern in hand he led them through the 
warm ,june darkness1 and on the way     
answered many questions as to the folk  
of these parts1 and their strange       
worship of sun and moon and wandering   
light of heaven2 but in a brief while1  
he said1 all these heathen matters will 
be put by1 when you have taught them the
 new faith4  ,up a gloomily wooded rise 
he guided them1 till they passed into   
the radiance of a house lit with many   
lamps and cressets1 and the house1 they 
saw1 was of fair marble such as are the 
houses of the patricians of ,rome2 and  
many beautiful slaves1 lightly clad and 
garlanded with roses1 brought them water
 in silver bowls and white linen        
wherewith they might cleanse themselves 
from the dust of their travel4  ,in a   
little the ,lady ,pelagia received them 
and bade them welcome1 and prayed them  
to make her poor house their            
dwelling-place while they sojourned in  

that waste of heathendom4  ,then she led
 them to a repast which had been made   
ready for them4  ,of all the gracious   
and lovely women in the round of the    
kingdoms of the earth none is1 or hath  
been1 or will be1 more marvellous in    
beauty or in sweetness of approach than 
this lady2 and she made ,hilary sit     
beside her1 and questioned him of the   
,saints in the ,queen ,city of the      
world1 and of his labours and his long  
wanderings1 and the perils through which
 he and his companions had come4  ,all  
the while she spoke her starry eyes shed
 soft light on his face1 and she leaned 
towards him her lovely head and fragrant
 bosom1 drinking in his words with a    
look of longing4  ,the companions       
whispered among themselves that         
assuredly this was rather an ,angel of  
,paradise than a mortal creature of the 
dust of the earth1 which to-day is as a 
flower in its desirableness and         
to-morrow is blown about all the ways of
 men's feet4  ,even the good ,bishop    

felt his heart moved towards her with a 
strange tenderness1 so sweet was the    
thought of her youth and her beauty and 
her goodness and humility4  ,sitting in 
this fashion at table and conversing1   
and the talk now veering to this and now
 to that1 the ,lady ,pelagia said3 ,this
 longest of the days has been to me the 
most happy1 holy fathers1 for it has    
brought you to the roof of a sinful     
woman1 and you have not disdained the   
service she has offered you in all      
lowliness of heart4  ,a long and1 it may
 be1 a dangerous labour lies before you1
 for the folk of this land are fierce   
and quick to violence2 but here you may 
ever refresh yourselves from toil and   
take your rest1 free from danger4  ,no  
loving offices or lowly observance1 no1 
nor ought you desire is there that you  
may not have for the asking--or without 
the asking1 if it be given me to know   
your wish unspoken4  ,hilary and the    
brethren bowed low at these gracious    
words1 and thought within themselves3   

,of a truth this may be a woman1 but she
 is no less an ,angel for our strength  
and solacement4  ,in the days to come1  
said the lady1 there will be many things
 to ask and learn from you1 but now ere 
this summer night draws to end let me   
have knowledge of divine things from    
thee1 most holy father1 for thou art    
wise and canst answer all my            
questionings4  ,and ,hilary smiled      
gravely1 not ill pleased at her words of
 praise1 and said3 ,ask1 daughter4      
,first tell me1 she said1 which of all  
the small things ,god has made in the   
world is the most excellent8  ,hilary   
wondered and mused1 but could find no   
answer2 and when he would have said so1 
the voice which came from his lips spoke
 other words than those he intended to  
speak1 so that instead of saying ,this  
is a question ,i cannot answer1 his     
voice said3 ,of all small things made by
 ,god1 most excellent is the face of man
 and woman2 for among all the faces of  
the children of ,adam not any one hath  

ever been wholly like any other2 and    
there in smallest space ,god has placed 
all the senses of the body2 and it is in
 the face that we see1 as in a glass1   
darkly1 all that can be seen of the     
invisible soul within4  ,illustration3  
,hilary wondered and mused  ,the        
companions listened marvelling1 but     
,hilary marvelled no less than they4    
,it is well answered1 said the lady1 and
 yet it seemed to me there was one thing
 more excellent4  ,but let me ask again3
 ,what earth is nearest to heaven8      
,again ,hilary mused and was silent4    
,then1 once more1 the voice which was   
his voice and yet spoke words which he  
did not think to speak1 gave the answer3
 ,the body of ,him who died on the tree 
to save us1 for ,he was of our flesh1   
and our flesh is earth of the earth4    
,that too is well answered1 said the    
lady1 who had grown pale and gazed on   
the ,bishop with great gloomy eyes2 and 
yet ,i had thought of another answer4   
,once more let me question you3 ,what is

 the distance between heaven and earth8 
,then for the third time was ,hilary    
unable to reply1 but the voice answered 
for him1 in stern and menaceful tones3  
,who can tell us that more certainly    
than ,lucifer who fell from heaven8     
,with a bitter cry the ,lady ,pelagia   
rose from her seat1 and raised her      
beautiful white arms above her head2 but
 the voice continued3 ,breathe on her1  
,hilary--breathe the breath of the name 
of ,christ6  ,and the ,bishop1 rising1  
breathed on the white lovely face the   
breath of the holy name2 and in an      
instant the starry eyes were darkened1  
and the spirit and flower of life       
perished in her sweet body2 and the     
companions saw no longer the ,lady      
,pelagia1 but in her stead a statue of  
white marble4  ,at a glance ,hilary knew
 it for a statue of the goddess whom men
 in ,rome called ,venus and in ,greece  
,aphrodite1 and with a shudder he       
remembered that another of her names was
 ,pelagia1 the ,lady of the ,sea4  ,but1

 swifter even than that thought1 it     
seemed to them as though the statue were
 smitten by an invisible hand1 for it   
reeled and fell1 shattered to fragments2
 and the lights were extinguished1 and  
the air of the summer night blew upon   
their faces1 and in the east1 whence    
cometh our hope1 there was a glimmer of 
dawn4  ,praying fervently1 and bewailing
 the brief joy they had taken in the    
beauty of that dreadful goddess1 they   
waited for light to guide them from that
 evil place4  ,when the day broadened   
they perceived that they were in the    
midst of the ruins of an ancient ,roman 
city1 overgrown with bush and tree4     
,around them lay1 amid beds of nettles  
and great dock leaves1 and darnel and   
tangles of briars1 and tall foxgloves   
and deadly nightshade1 the broken       
pillars of a marble temple4  ,this had  
been the fair house1 lit with lamps1    
wherein they had sat at feast4  ,close  
beside them were scattered the white    
fragments of the image of the beautiful 

,temptress4  ,as they turned to depart  
three grey wolves snarled at them from  
the ruins1 but an unseen hand held these
 in leash1 and ,hilary and his          
companions went on their way unharmed4  
,the ,dream of the ,white ,lark  ,this  
was a thing that happened long and long 
ago1 in the glimmering morning of the   
,christian time in ,erinn4  ,and it may 
have happened to the holy ,maedog of    
,ferns1 or to ,enan the ,angelic1 or it 
may have been ,molasius of ,devenish--,i
 cannot say4  ,but over the windy sea in
 his small curragh of bull's hide the   
,saint sailed far away to the southern  
land2 and for many a month he travelled 
afoot through the dark forests1 and the 
sunny corn-lands1 and over the snowy    
mountain horns1 and along the low shores
 between the olive-grey hills and the   
blue sea1 till at last he came in sight 
of a great and beautiful city glittering
 on the slopes and ridges of seven      
hills4  ,what golden city may this be8  
he asked of the dark-eyed market folk   

whom he met on the long straight road   
which led across the open country4  ,it 
is the city of ,rome1 they answered him1
 wondering at his ignorance4  ,but the  
,saint1 when he heard those words1 fell 
on his knees and kissed the ground4     
,hail to thee1 most holy city6 he cried2
 hail1 thou queen of the world1 red with
 the roses of the martyrs and white with
 the lilies of the virgins2 hail1       
blessed goal of my long wandering6  ,and
 as he entered the city his eyes were   
bright with joy1 and his heart seemed to
 lift his weary feet on wings of        
gladness4  ,there he sojourned through  
the autumn and the winter1 visiting all 
the great churches and the burial-places
 of the early ,christians in the        
,catacombs1 and communing with the good 
and wise men in many houses of religion4
  ,once he conversed with the great     
,pope whose name was ,gregory1 and told 
him of his brethren in the beloved isle 
in the western waters4  ,when once more 
the leaf of the fig-tree opened its five

 fingers1 and the silvery bud of the    
vine began to unfurl1 the ,saint        
prepared to return home4  ,and once more
 he went to the mighty ,pope1 to take   
his leave and to ask a blessing for     
himself and his brethren1 and to beg    
that he might bear away with him to the 
brotherhood some precious relic of those
 who had shed their blood for the       
,cross4  ,as he made that request in the
 green shadowy garden on the ,hill      
,caelian1 the ,pope smiled1 and1 taking 
a clod of common earth from the soil1   
gave it to the ,saint1 saying1 ,then    
take this with thee1 and when the ,saint
 expressed his surprise at so strange a 
relic1 the ,servant of the ,servants of 
,god took back the earth and crushed it 
in his hand1 and with amazement the     
,saint saw that blood began to trickle  
from it between the fingers of the      
,pope4  ,marvelling greatly1 the ,saint 
kissed the holy pontiff's hand1 and bade
 him farewell2 and going to and fro     
among those he knew1 he collected money1

 and1 hiring a ship1 he filled it with  
the earth of ,rome1 and sailed westward 
through the ,midland ,sea1 and bent his 
course towards the steadfast star in the
 north1 and so at last reached the      
beloved green island of his home4  ,in  
the little graveyard about the fair     
church of his brotherhood he spread the 
earth which had drunk the blood of the  
martyrs1 so that the bodies of those who
 died in the ,lord might await ,his     
coming in a blessed peace4  ,now it     
happened that but a few days after his  
return the friend of his boyhood1 a holy
 brother who had long shared with him   
the companionship of the cloister1      
migrated from this light1 and when the  
last requiem had been sung and the      
sacred earth had covered in the dead1   
the ,saint wept bitterly for the sake of
 the lost love and the unforgotten      
years4  ,and at night he fell asleep1   
still weeping for sorrow4  ,and in his  
sleep he saw1 as in a dream1 the grey   
stone church with its round tower and   

the graveyard sheltered by the woody    
hills2 but behold6 in the graveyard tall
 trees sprang in lofty spires from the  
earth of ,rome1 and reached into the    
highest heavens2 and these trees were   
like trees of green and golden and ruddy
 fire1 for they were red with the       
blossoms of life1 and every green leaf  
quivered with bliss1 like a green flame2
 and among the trees1 on a grassy sod at
 their feet1 sat a white lark1 singing  
clear and loud1 and he knew that the    
lark was the soul of the friend of his  
boyhood4  ,as he listened to its song1  
he understood its unearthly music2 and  
these were the words of its singing3 ,do
 not weep any more for me2 it is pity   
for thy sorrow which keeps me here on   
the grass4  ,if thou wert not so unhappy
 ,i should fly4  ,and when the ,saint   
awoke his grief had fallen from him1 and
 he wept no more for the dead man whom  
he loved4     ,the ,hermit of the       
,pillar  ,on one of the hills near the  
city of ,ancyra ,basil the hermit stood 

day and night on a pillar of stone forty
 feet high1 praying and weeping for his 
own sins and for the sins of the world4 
,a gaunt1 dark figure1 far up in the    
blue ,asian sky1 he stood there for a   
sign and a warning to all men that our  
earthly life is short1 whether for      
wickedness or repentance2 that the      
gladness and the splendour of the world 
are but a fleeting pageant2 that in but 
a little while the nations should       
tremble before the coming of the ,lord  
in ,his power and majesty4  ,little heed
 did the rich and dissolute people of   
that city give to his cry of doom2 and  
of the vast crowds who came about the   
foot of his pillar1 the greater number  
thought but to gaze on the wonder of a  
day1 though some few did pitch their    
tents hard by1 and spent the time of    
their sojourn in prayer and the         
lamentation of hearts humbled and       
contrite4  ,illustration3 ,a gaunt1 dark
 figure1 far up in the blue ,asian sky  
,now1 in the third year of his          

testimony1 as ,basil was rapt in        
devotion1 with hands and face uplifted  
to the great silent stars1 an ,angel1   
clothed in silver and the blue-green of 
the night1 stood in front of him in the 
air1 and said3 ,descend from thy pillar1
 and get thee away far westward2 and    
there thou shalt learn what is for thy  
good4  ,without delay or doubt ,basil   
descended1 and stole away alone in the  
hush before the new day1 and took the   
winding ways of the hills1 and          
thereafter went down into the low       
country of the plain to seaward4  ,after
 long journeying among places and people
 unknown1 he crossed the running seas   
which part the eastern world from the   
world of the west1 and reached the ,city
 of the ,golden ,horn1 ,byzantium2 and  
there for four months he lived on a     
pillar overlooking the city and the     
narrow seas1 and cried his cry of doom  
and torment4  ,at the end of the fourth 
month the ,angel once more came to him  
and bade him descend and go further4    

,so with patience and constancy of soul 
he departed between night and light1 and
 pursued his way for many months till he
 had got to the ancient city of ,treves4
  ,there1 among the ruins of a temple of
 the heathen goddess ,diana1 he found a 
vast pillar of marble still erect1 and  
the top of this he thought to make his  
home and holy watch-tower4 ,wherefore he
 sought out the ,bishop of the city and 
asked his leave and blessing1 and the   
,bishop1 marvelling greatly at his zeal 
and austerity1 gave his consent4  ,the  
people of ,treves were amazed at what   
they considered his madness2 but they   
gave him no hindrance1 nor did they     
molest him in any way4 ,indeed1 in no   
long time the fame of his penance was   
noised abroad1 and multitudes came1 as  
they had come at ,ancyra1 to see with   
their own eyes what there was of truth  
in the strange story they had heard4    
,afterwards1 too1 many came out of      
sorrow for sin and an ardent desire of  
holiness2 and others brought their sick 

and maimed and afflicted1 in the hope   
that the ,hermit might be able to cure  
their ailments1 or give them assuagement
 of their sufferings4  ,many of these1  
in truth1 ,basil sent away cleansed and 
made whole by the virtue of his touch or
 of the blessing he bestowed upon them4 
,now1 though there were many            
pillar-hermits in the far eastern land1 
this was the first that had ever been   
seen in the west1 and after him there   
were but few others4  ,a strange and    
well-nigh incredible thing it seemed1 to
 look upon this man on the height of his
 pillar1 preaching and praying          
constantly1 and enduring night and day  
the inclemency of the seasons and the   
weariness and discomfort of his narrow  
standing place4  ,for the pillar1       
massive as it was1 was so narrow where  
the marble curved over in big acanthus  
leaves at the four corners that he had  
not room to lie down at length to sleep2
 and indeed he slept but little1        
considering slumber a waste of the time 

of prayer1 and the dreams of sleep so   
many temptations to beguile the soul    
into false and fugitive pleasures4  ,no 
shelter was there from the wind1 but he 
was bare as a stone in the field to the 
driving rain and the blaze of the sun at
 noon2 and in winter the frost was      
bitter to flesh and blood1 and the snow 
fell like flakes or white fire4  ,his   
only clothing was a coat of sheepskin2  
about his neck hung a heavy chain of    
iron1 in token that he was a thrall and 
bondsman of the ,lord ,christ1 and each 
,friday he wore an iron crown of thorns1
 in painful memory of ,christ's passion 
and ,his sorrowful death upon the tree4 
,once a day he ate a little rye bread1  
and once he drank a little water4  ,no  
man could say whether he was young or   
aged2 and the mother who had borne him a
 little babe at her bosom1 and had      
watched him grow to boyhood1 could not  
have recognised him1 for he had been    
burnt black by the sun and the frost1   
and the weather had bleached his hair   

and beard till they looked like lichens 
on an ancient forest-tree1 and the crown
 of thorns had scarred his brow1 and the
 links of the chain had galled his neck 
and shoulders4  ,for three summers and  
three winters he endured this stricken  
life with cheerful fortitude1 counting  
his sufferings as great gain if through 
them he might secure the crown of       
celestial glory which ,god has woven for
 ,his elect4  ,remembering all his      
prayers and supplications1 and the long 
martyrdom of his body1 it was hard for  
him1 at times1 to resist the assurance  
that he must have won a golden seat     
among the blessed4  ,for who1 ,o ,lord  
,christ6 he cried1 with trembling hands 
outstretched1 and dim eyes weeping1 who 
hath taken up ,thy cross as ,i have     
done1 and the anguish of the thorns and 
the nails1 and the parched sorrow of    
,thy thirst1 and the wounding of ,thy   
blessed body1 and borne them for years  
twenty and three1 and shown them as ,i  
have shown them to the sun and stars and

 the four winds1 high up between heaven 
and earth1 that men might be drawn to   
,thee1 and carried them across the world
 from the outmost ,east to the outmost  
,west8  ,surely1 ,lord ,god6  ,thou hast
 written my name in ,thy ,book of ,life1
 and hast set for me a happy place in   
the heavens4  ,surely1 all ,i have and  
am ,i have given ,thee2 and all that a  
worm of the earth may do have ,i done6  
,if in anything ,i have failed1 show me1
 ,lord1 ,i beseech ,thee1 wherein ,i    
have come short4  ,if any man there be  
more worthy in ,thine eyes1 let me1 too1
 set eyes upon him1 that ,i may learn of
 him how ,i may the better please ,thee4
  ,teach me1 ,lord1 that which ,i know  
not1 for ,thou alone knowest and art    
wise6  ,as ,basil was praying thus in   
the hour before dawn1 once more the     
,angel1 clothed in silver and           
blue-green1 as though it had been a     
semblance of the starry night1 came to  
him1 and said3 ,give me thy hand2 and   
,basil touched the hand celestial1 and  

the ,angel drew him from his pillar1 and
 placed him on the ground1 and said3    
,this is that land of the west in which 
thou art to learn what is for thy good4 
,take for staff this piece of tree1 and 
follow this road till thou reachest the 
third milestone2 and there1 in the early
 light1 thou shalt meet him who can     
instruct thee4  ,for a sign1 thou shalt 
know the man by the little maid of seven
 years who helpeth him to drive the     
geese4  ,but the man1 though young1 may 
teach one who is older than he1 and he  
is one who is greatly pleasing in ,god's
 eyes4  ,the clear light was glittering 
on the dewy grass and the wet bushes    
when ,basil reached the third milestone4
  ,he heard the distant sound as of a   
shepherd piping1 and he saw that the    
road in front of him was crowded for    
near upon a quarter of a mile with a    
great gathering of geese--fully two     
thousand they numbered--feeding in the  
grass and rushes1 and cackling1 and     
hustling each other aside1 and clacking 

their big orange-coloured bills1 as they
 waddled slowly onward towards the city4
  ,among them walked a nut-brown little 
maiden of seven1 clad in a green woollen
 tunic1 with bright flaxen hair and     
innocent blue eyes1 and bare brown legs1
 and feet shod in shoes of hide4  ,in   
her hand she carried a long hazel wand1 
with which she kept in rule the large   
grey and white geese4  ,as the flock    
came up to the ,hermit1 she gazed at him
 with her sweet wondering eyes1 for     
never had she seen so strange and awful 
a man as this1 with his sheepskin dress 
and iron chain and crown of thorns1 and 
skin burnt black1 and bleached hair and 
dark brows stained with blood4 ,for a   
moment she stood still in awe and fear1 
but the ,hermit raised his hand1 and    
blessed her1 and smiled upon her2 and   
even in that worn and disfigured face   
the light in the ,hermit's eyes as he   
smiled was tender and beautiful2 and the
 child ceased to fear1 and passed slowly
 along1 still gazing at him and smiling 

in return4  ,in the rear of the great   
multitude of geese came a churl1 tall   
and young1 and comely enough for all his
 embrowning in the sun and wind1 and his
 unkempt hair and rude dress4  ,it was  
he who made the music1 playing on       
pan's-pipes to lighten the way1 and     
quickening with his staff the loiterers 
of his flock4  ,when he perceived the   
,hermit he stayed his playing1 for he   
bethought him1 ,is not this the saintly 
man of whose strange penance and        
miracles of healing the folk talk in    
rustic huts and hamlets far scattered8  
,but when they drew nigh to each other1 
the ,hermit bowed low to the ,gooseherd1
 and addressed him3 ,give me leave to   
speak a little with thee1 good brother2 
for an ,angel of heaven hath told me of 
thee1 and fain would ,i converse with   
thee4  ,twenty years and three have ,i  
served the ,king of ,glory in           
supplication and fasting and tribulation
 of spirit1 and yet ,i lack that which  
thou canst teach me4  ,now tell me1 ,i  

beseech thee1 what works1 what          
austerities1 what prayers have made thee
 so acceptable to ,god4  ,a dark flush  
rose on the ,goose-herd's cheeks as he  
listened1 but when he answered it was in
 a grave and quiet voice3 ,it ill       
becomes an aged man to mock and jeer at 
the young1 nor is it more seemly that   
the holy should gibe at the poor4  ,dear
 son in ,christ1 said the ,hermit1 ,i do
 not gibe or mock at thee4 ,by the truth
 of the blessed tree1 ,i was told of    
thee by an ,angel in the very night     
which is now over and gone1 and was     
bidden to question thee4 ,wherefore be  
not wrathful1 but answer me truly1 ,i   
beg of thy charity4  ,the ,goose-herd   
shook his head4  ,this is a matter      
beyond me1 he replied4  ,all my work1   
since thou askest of my work1 hath been 
the tending and rearing of geese and    
driving them to market4  ,from the good 
marsh lands at the foot of the hills out
 west ,i drive them1 and the distance is
 not small1 for1 sleeping and resting by

 boulder and tree1 for five days are we 
on the way4  ,slow of foot goeth your   
goose when he goeth not by water1 and it
 profits neither master nor herd to     
stint them of their green food4  ,and   
all my prayer hath been that ,i might   
get them safe to market1 none missing or
 fallen dead by the way1 and that ,i    
might sell them speedily and at good    
price1 and so back to the fens again4   
,what more is there to say8  ,in thy    
humility thou hidest something from me1 
said the ,hermit1 and he fixed his eyes 
thoughtfully on the young man's face4   
,nay1 ,i have told thee all that is     
worth the telling4  ,then hast thou     
always lived this life8 the ,hermit     
asked4  ,ever since ,i was a small      
lad--such a one as the little maid in   
front1 and she will be in her seventh   
year1 or it may be a little older4      
,before me was my father goose-herd2 and
 he taught me the windings of the       
journey to the city1 and the best       
resting-places1 and the ways of geese1  

and the meaning of their cries1 and what
 pleaseth them and serveth flesh and    
feather1 and how they should be driven4 
,and now1 in turn1 ,i teach the child1  
for there be goose-girls as well as men4
  ,is she then thy young sister1 or may 
it be that she is thy daughter8         
,neither young sister nor daughter is   
she1 replied the ,herd1 and yet in truth
 she is both sister and daughter4  ,wilt
 thou tell me how that may be8 asked the
 ,hermit4  ,it is shortly told1 said the
 ,herd4  ,robbers broke into their poor 
and lonely house by the roadside and    
slew father and mother and left them    
dead1 but the babe at the breast they   
had not slain1 and this was she4  ,didst
 thou find her8 asked the ,hermit4  ,ay1
 on a happy day ,i found her2 a feeble  
little thing bleating like a lambkin    
forlorn beside its dead dam4  ,and thy  
wife1 belike1 or thy mother1 reared her8
  ,nay1 said the ,herd1 for my mother   
was dead1 and no wife have ,i4  ,i      
reared her myself--my little white      

gooseling2 and she throve and waxed     
strong of heart and limb1 and merry and 
brown of favour1 as thou hast seen4     
,thou must have been thyself scantly a  
man in those days1 said the ,hermit4    
,younger than to-day1 replied the ,herd2
 but ,i was ever big of limb and        
plentiful of my inches4  ,and hath she  
not been often since a burthen to thee1 
and a weariness in the years8  ,she hath
 been a care in the cold winter1 and a  
sorrow in her sickness with her         
teeth--for no man1 ,i wot1 can help a   
small child when the teeth come through 
the gum1 and she can but cry ah6 ah6 and
 hath no words to tell what she aileth4 
,why didst thou do all this8 asked the  
,hermit4  ,what hath been thy reward8   
,or for what reward dost thou look8     
,the ,goose-herd looked at him blankly  
for a moment2 then his face brightened4 
,surely1 he said1 to see her as she goes
 on her way1 a bright1 brown little     
living thing1 with her clear hair and   
glad eyes1 is a goodly reward4  ,and a  

goodly reward is it to think of her     
growth1 and to mind me of the days when 
she could not walk and ,i bore her      
whithersoever ,i went2 and of the days  
when she could but take faltering steps 
and was soon fain to climb into my arms 
and sit upon my neck2 and of the days   
when we first fared together with the   
geese to market and ,i cut her her first
 hazel stick2 and in truth of all the   
days that she hath been with me since ,i
 found her4  ,as the ,goose-herd spoke  
the tears rose in the ,hermit's eyes and
 rolled slowly down his cheeks2 and when
 the young man ceased1 he said3 ,o son1 
now ,i know why thou art so pleasing in 
the eyes of ,god4  ,early hast thou     
learned the love which gives all and    
asks nothing1 which suffereth long and  
is ever kind1 and this ,i have not      
learned4  ,a small thing and too common 
it seemed to me1 but now ,i see that it 
is holier than austerities1 and availeth
 more than fasting1 and is the prayer of
 prayers4  ,late have ,i sought thee1   

thou ancient truth1 late have ,i found  
thee1 thou ancient beauty2 yet even in  
the gloaming of my days may there still 
be light enough to win my way home4     
,farewell1 good brother2 and be ,god    
tender and pitiful to thee as thou hast 
been tender and pitiful to the little   
child4  ,farewell1 holy man6 replied the
 ,herd1 regarding him with a perplexed  
look1 for the life and austerities of   
the ,hermit were a mystery he could not 
understand4  ,then going on his way1 he 
laid the pan's-pipes to his lips and    
whistled a pleasant music as he strode  
after his geese4     ,kenach's ,little  
,woman  ,as the holy season of ,lent    
drew nigh1 the ,abbot ,kenach felt a    
longing such as a bird of passage feels 
in the south when the first little      
silvery buds on the willow begin here to
 break their ruddy sheaths1 and the bird
 thinks to-morrow it will be time to fly
 over-seas to the land where it builds  
its nest in pleasant croft or under the 
shelter of homely eaves4  ,and ,kenach  

said1 ,levabo oculos--,i will lift up   
mine eyes unto the hills from whence    
cometh my help2 for every year it was   
his custom to leave his abbey and fare  
through the woods to the hermitage on   
the mountain-side1 so that he might     
spend the forty days of fasting and     
prayer in the heart of solitude4  ,now  
on the day which is called the          
,wednesday or ,ashes he set out1 but    
first he heard the mass of remembrance  
and led his monks to the altar steps1   
and knelt there in great humility to let
 the priest sign his forehead with a    
cross of ashes4  ,and on the forehead of
 each of the monks the ashes were       
smeared in the form of a cross1 and each
 time the priest made the sign he       
repeated the words1 ,remember1 man1 that
 thou art dust1 and unto dust thou shalt
 return4  ,so with the ashes still on   
his brow and with the remembrance of the
 end of earthly days in his soul1 he    
bent his steps towards the hermitage2   
and as he was now an aged man and nowise

 strong1 ,diarmait1 one of the younger  
brethren1 accompanied him in case any   
mischance should befall4  ,they passed  
through the cold forest1 where green    
there was none1 unless it were the      
patches of moss and the lichens on the  
rugged tree-trunks and tufts of last    
year's grass1 but here and there the    
white blossoms of the snowdrops peered  
out4  ,the dead grey leaves and dry     
twigs crackled and snapped under their  
feet with such a noise as a wood fire   
makes when it is newly lighted2 and that
 was all the warmth they had on their   
wayfaring4  ,the short ,february day was
 closing in as they climbed among the   
boulders and withered bracken on the    
mountainside1 and at last reached the   
entrance of a cavern hollowed in the    
rock and fringed with ivy4 ,this was the
 hermitage4  ,the ,abbot hung his bell  
on a thick ivy-bough in the mouth of the
 cave2 and they knelt and recited       
vespers and compline2 and thrice the    
,abbot struck the bell to scare away the

 evil spirits of the night2 and they    
entered and lay down to rest4  ,hard was
 the way of their sleeping2 for they lay
 not on wool or on down1 neither on     
heather or bracken1 nor yet on dry      
leaves1 but their sides came against the
 cold stone1 and under the head of each 
there was a stone for pillow4  ,but     
being weary with the long journey they  
slept sound1 and felt nothing of the icy
 mouth of the wind blowing down the     
mountain-side4  ,within an hour of      
daybreak1 when the moon was setting1    
they were awakened by the wonderful     
singing of a bird1 and they rose for    
matins and strove not to listen1 but so 
strangely sweet was the sound in the    
keen moonlight morning that they could  
not forbear4  ,the moon set1 and still  
in the dark sang the bird1 and the grey 
light came1 and the bird ceased2 and    
when it was white day they saw that all 
the ground and every stalk of bracken   
was hoary with frost1 and every ivy-leaf
 was crusted white round the edge1 but  

within the edge it was all glossy green4
  ,what bird is this that sings so sweet
 before day in the bitter cold8 said the
 ,abbot4  ,surely no bird at all1 but an
 ,angel from heaven waking us from the  
death of sleep4  ,it is the blackbird1  
,domine ,abbas1 said the young monk2    
often they sing thus in ,february1      
however cold it may be4  ,o soul1 ,o    
,diarmait1 is it not wonderful that the 
senseless small creatures should praise 
,god so sweetly in the dark1 and in the 
light before the dark1 while we are fain
 to lie warm and forget ,his praise8    
,and afterwards he said1 ,gladly could  
,i have listened to that singing1 even  
till to-morrow was a day2 and yet it was
 but the singing of a little earth      
wrapped in a handful of feathers4  ,o   
soul1 tell me what it must be to listen 
to the singing of an ,angel1 a portion  
of heaven wrapped in the glory of ,god's
 love6  ,of the forty days thirty went  
by1 and oftentimes now1 when no wind    
blew1 it was bright and delightsome     

among the rocks1 for the sun was gaining
 strength1 and the days were growing    
longer1 and the brown trees were being  
speckled with numberless tiny buds of   
white and pale green1 and wild flowers  
were springing between the boulders and 
through the mountain turf4  ,hard by the
 cave there was a low wall of rock      
covered with ivy1 and as ,diarmait      
chanced to walk near it1 a brown bird   
darted out from among the leaves4  ,the 
young monk looked at the place from     
which it had flown1 and behold6 among   
the leaves and the hairy sinews of the  
ivy there was a nest lined with grass1  
and in the nest there were three        
eggs--pale-green with reddish spots4    
,and ,diarmait knew the bird and knew   
the eggs1 and he told the ,abbot1 who   
came noiselessly1 and looked with a     
great love at the open house and the    
three eggs of the mother blackbird4     
,let us not walk too near1 my son1 he   
said1 lest we scare the mother from her 
brood1 and so silence beforehand some of

 the music of the cold hours before the 
day4  ,and he lifted his hand and       
blessed the nest and the bird1 saying1  
,and ,he shall bless thy bread and thy  
water4  ,after that it was very seldom  
they went near the ivy4  ,now after days
 of clear and benign weather a shrill   
wind broke out from beneath the ,north  
,star1 and brought with it snow and     
sleet and piercing cold4  ,and the woods
 howled for distress of the storm1 and  
the grey stones of the mountain         
chattered with discomfort4  ,harsh cold 
and sleeplessness were their lot in the 
cave1 and as he shivered1 the ,abbot    
bethought him of the blackbird in her   
nest1 and of the wet flakes driving in  
between the leaves of the ivy and       
stinging her brown wings and patient    
bosom4  ,and lifting his head from his  
pillow of stone he prayed the ,lord of  
the elements to have the bird in ,his   
gentle care1 saying1 ,how excellent is  
,thy loving-kindness1 ,o ,god6 therefore
 the children of men put their trust    

under the shadow of ,thy wings4  ,then  
after a little while he said1 ,look out 
into the night1 ,o son1 and tell me if  
yet the storm be abated4  ,and          
,diarmait1 shuddering1 went to the mouth
 of the cavern1 and stood there gazing  
and calling in a low voice1 ,domine     
,abbas6  ,my ,lord ,abbot6 ,my ,lord    
,abbot6  ,kenach rose quickly and went  
to him1 and as they looked out the sleet
 beat on their faces1 but in the midst  
of the storm there was a space of light1
 as though it were moonshine1 and the   
light streamed from an ,angel1 who stood
 near the wall of rock with outspread   
wings1 and sheltered the blackbird's    
nest from the wintry blast4  ,and the   
monks gazed at the shining loveliness of
 the ,angel1 till the wind fell and the 
snow ceased and the light faded away and
 the sharp stars came out and the night 
was still4  ,now at sundown of the day  
that followed1 when the ,abbot was in   
the cave1 the young monk1 standing among
 the rocks1 saw approaching a woman who 

carried a child in her arms2 and        
crossing himself he cried aloud to her1 
,come not any nearer2 turn thy face to  
the forest1 and go down4  ,illustration3
 ,come not any nearer2 turn thy face to 
the forest1 and go down  ,nay1 replied  
the woman1 for we seek shelter for the  
night1 and food and the solace of fire  
for the little one4  ,go down1 go down1 
cried ,diarmait2 no woman may come to   
this hermitage4  ,how canst thou say    
that1 ,o monk8 said the woman4  ,was the
 ,lord ,christ any worse than thou8     
,christ came to redeem woman no less    
than to redeem man4  ,not less did ,he  
suffer for the sake of woman than for   
the sake of man4  ,women gave service   
and tendance to ,him and ,his ,apostles4
  ,a woman it was who bore ,him1 else   
had men been left forlorn4 ,it was a man
 who betrayed ,him with a kiss2 a woman 
it was who washed ,his feet with tears4 
,it was a man who smote ,him with a     
reed1 but a woman who broke the         
alabaster box of precious ointment4  ,it

 was a man who thrice denied ,him2 a    
woman stood by ,his cross4  ,it was a   
woman to whom ,he first spoke on ,easter
 morn1 but a man thrust his hand into   
,his side and put his finger in the     
prints of the nails before he would     
believe4  ,and not less than men do     
women enter the heavenly kingdom4 ,why  
then shouldst thou drive my little child
 and me from thy hermitage8  ,then      
,kenach1 who had heard all that was     
said1 came forth from the cave1 and     
blessed the woman4  ,well hast thou     
spoken1 ,o daughter2 come1 and bring the
 small child with thee4  ,and1 turning  
to the young monk1 he said1 ,o soul1 ,o 
son1 ,o ,diarmait1 did not ,god send    
,his ,angel out of high heaven to       
shelter the mother bird8  ,and was not  
that1 too1 a little woman in feathers8  
,but now hasten1 and gather wood and    
leaves1 and strike fire from the flint1 
and make a hearth before the cave1 that 
the woman may rest and the boy have the 
comfort of the bright flame4  ,this was 

soon done1 and by the fire sat the woman
 eating a little barley bread2 but the  
child1 who had no will to eat came round
 to the old man1 and held out two soft  
hands to him4  ,and the ,abbot caught   
him up from the ground to his breast1   
and kissed his golden head1 saying1 ,god
 bless thee sweet little son1 and give  
thee a good life and a happy1 and       
strength of thy small body1 and1 if it  
be ,his holy will1 length of glad days2 
and ever mayest thou be a gladness and  
deep joy to thy mother4  ,then1 seeing  
that the woman was strangely clad in an 
outland garb of red and blue1 and that  
she was tall1 with a golden-hued skin   
and olive eyes1 arched eyebrows very    
black1 aquiline nose1 and a rosy mouth1 
he said1 ,surely1 ,o daughter1 thou art 
not of this land of ,erinn in the sea1  
but art come out of the great world     
beyond8  ,indeed1 then1 we have         
travelled far1 replied the woman2 as    
thou sayest1 out of the great world     
beyond4  ,and now the twilight deepens  

upon us4  ,thou shalt sleep safe in the 
cave1 ,o daughter1 but we will rest here
 by the embers4  ,my cloak of goats'    
hair shalt thou have1 and such dry      
bracken and soft bushes as may be found4
  ,there is no need1 said the woman1    
mere shelter is enough2 and she added in
 a low voice1 ,often has my little son  
had no bed wherein he might lie4  ,then 
she stretched out her arms to the boy1  
and once more the little one kissed the 
,abbot1 and as he passed by ,diarmait he
 put the palms of his hands against the 
face of the young monk1 and said        
laughingly1 ,i do not think thou hadst  
any ill-will to us1 though thou wert    
rough and didst threaten to drive us    
away into the woods4  ,and the woman    
lifted the boy on her arm1 and rose and 
went towards the cavern2 and when she   
was in the shadow of the rocks she      
turned towards the monks beside the     
fire1 and said1 ,my son bids me thank   
you4  ,they looked up1 and what was     
their astonishment to see a heavenly    

glory shining about the woman and her   
child in the gloom of the cave4  ,and in
 his left hand the child carried a      
little golden image of the world1 and   
round his head was a starry radiance1   
and his right hand was raised in        
blessing4  ,for such a while as it takes
 the shadow of a cloud to run across a  
rippling field of corn1 for so long the 
vision remained2 and then it melted into
 the darkness1 even as a rainbow melts  
away into the rain4  ,on his face fell  
the ,abbot1 weeping for joy beyond      
words2 but ,diarmait was seized with    
fear and trembling till he remembered   
the way in which the child had pressed  
warm palms against his face and forgiven
 him4  ,the story of these things was   
whispered abroad1 and ever since1 in    
that part of ,erinn in the sea1 the     
mother blackbird is called ,kenach's    
,little ,woman4  ,and as for the stone  
on which the fire was lighted in front  
of the cave1 rain rises quickly from it 
in mist and leaves it dry1 and snow may 

not lie upon it1 and even in the dead of
 winter it is warm to touch4  ,and to   
this day it is called the ,stone of     
,holy ,companionship4     ,golden       
,apples and ,roses ,red  ,in the cruel  
days of old1 when ,diocletian was the   
,master of the ,world1 and the believers
 in the ,cross were maimed1 and tortured
 with fire1 and torn with iron hooks1   
and cast to the lions1 and beheaded with
 the sword1 ,dorothea1 a beautiful      
maiden of ,caesarea1 was brought before 
,sapricius1 the ,governor of            
,cappadocia1 and commanded to forsake   
the ,lord ,christ and offer incense to  
the images of the false gods4  ,though  
she was so young and so fair and tender1
 she stood unmoved by threats and       
entreaties1 and when1 with little pity  
on her youth and loveliness1 ,sapricius 
menaced her with the torment of the iron
 bed over a slow fire1 she replied3 ,do 
with me as you will4  ,no pain shall ,i 
fear1 so firm is my trust in ,him for   
whom ,i am ready to die4  ,who1 then1 is

 this that has won thy love8 asked the  
,governor4  ,it is ,christ ,jesus1 the  
,son of ,god4  ,slay me1 and ,i shall   
but the sooner be with ,him in ,his     
,paradise1 where there is no more pain1 
neither sorrow1 but the tears are wiped 
from all eyes1 and the roses are in     
bloom alway1 and for ever the fruit of  
joy is on the trees4  ,thy words are but
 the babbling of madness1 said the      
,governor angrily4  ,i am not mad1 most 
noble ,sapricius4  ,illustration3 ,i am 
not mad1 most noble ,sapricius  ,here1  
then1 is the incense1 sacrifice1 and    
save thy life4  ,i will not sacrifice1  
replied ,dorothea4  ,then shalt thou    
die1 said ,sapricius2 and he bade the   
doomsman take her to the place of       
execution and strike off her head4  ,now
 as she was being led away from the     
judgment-seat1 a gay young advocate     
named ,theophilus said to her jestingly3
 ,farewell1 sweet ,dorothea3 when thou  
hast joined thy lover1 wilt thou not    
send me some of the fruit and roses of  

his ,paradise8  ,looking gravely and    
gently at him1 ,dorothea answered3 ,i   
will send some4  ,whereupon ,theophilus 
laughed merrily1 and went his way       
homeward4  ,at the place of execution1  
,dorothea begged the doomsman to tarry a
 little1 and kneeling by the block1 she 
raised her hands to heaven and prayed   
earnestly4  ,at that moment a fair child
 stood beside her1 holding in his hand a
 basket containing three golden apples  
and three red roses4  ,take these to    
,theophilus1 ,i pray thee1 she said to  
the child1 and tell him ,dorothea awaits
 him in the ,paradise whence they came4 
,then she bowed her head1 and the sword 
of the doomsman fell4  ,mark now what   
follows4  ,theophilus1 who had reached  
home1 was still telling of what had     
happened and merrily repeating his jest 
about the fruit and flowers of          
,paradise1 when suddenly1 while he was  
speaking1 the child appeared before him 
with the apples and the roses4          
,dorothea1 he said1 has sent me to thee 

with these1 and she awaits thee in the  
garden4  ,and straightway the child     
vanished4  ,the fragrance of those      
heavenly roses filled ,theophilus with a
 strange pity and gladness2 and1 eating 
of the fruit of the ,angels1 he felt his
 heart made new within him1 so that he1 
also1 became a servant of the ,lord     
,jesus1 and suffered death for ,his     
name1 and thus attained to the celestial
 garden4  ,centuries after her          
martyrdom1 the body of ,dorothea was    
laid in a bronze shrine richly inlaid   
with gold and jewels in the church built
 in her honour beyond ,tiber1 in the    
seven-hilled city of ,rome4  ,there it  
lay in the days when ,waldo was a       
brother at the ,priory of ,three        
,fountains1 among the wooded folds of   
the ,taunus ,hills2 and every seven     
years the shrine was opened that the    
faithful might gaze on the maiden martyr
 of ,caesarea4   ,an exceeding great    
love and devotion did ,waldo bear this  
holy virgin1 whom he had chosen for his 

patroness1 and one of his most ardent   
wishes was that he might some day visit 
the church beyond ,tiber1 and kneel by  
the shrine which contained her precious 
relics4  ,in summer the red roses1 in   
autumn the bright apples on the tree1   
reminded him of her2 in the spring he   
thought of her youth and beauty joyously
 surrendered to ,christ1 and the snow in
 winter spoke to him of her spotless    
innocence4 ,thus through the round of   
the year the remembrance of her was     
present about him in fair suggestions2  
and indeed had there been any lack of   
these every gift of ,god would have     
recalled her to his mind1 for was not   
that--the gift of ,god--her name8       
,notwithstanding his youth1 ,waldo was  
ripe in learning1 well skilled in ,latin
 and ,greek1 and so gifted beyond       
measure in poetry and music that people 
said he had heard the singing of ,angels
 and had brought the echo of it to the  
earth4  ,his hymns and sacred songs were
 known and loved all through the ,german

 land1 and far beyond4  ,the children   
sang them in the processions on the high
 feast days1 the peasants sang them at  
their work in house or field1 travellers
 sang them as they journeyed over the   
long heaths and through the             
mountain-forests1 fishers and raftsmen  
sang them on the rivers4  ,he composed  
the ,song of the ,sickle which cuts at a
 stroke the corn in its ripeness and the
 wild flower in its bloom1 and the ,song
 of the ,mill-wheel1 with its long creak
 and quick clap1 and the melodious rush 
of water from the buckets of the wheel1 
and many another which it would take    
long to tell of2 but that which to      
himself was sweetest and dearest was    
,golden ,apples and ,roses ,red1 the    
song in which he told the legend of ,st4
 ,dorothea his patroness4   ,now when   
,waldo was in the six-and-thirtieth year
 of his age he was smitten with leprosy2
 and when it was found that neither the 
relics of the saints1 nor the prayers of
 holy men1 nor the skill of the         

physician availed to cure him1 but that 
it was ,god's will he should endure to  
the end1 the ,prior entreated him to    
surrender himself to that blessed will1 
and to go forth courageously to the new 
life of isolation which awaited him4    
,for in those days it was not lawful    
that a leper should abide in the        
companionship of men1 and he was set    
apart lest his malady should bring      
others to a misery like his own4  ,deep 
was the grief of the brethren of ,three 
,fountains when they were summoned to   
attend the sacred office of demission   
which was to shut out ,waldo for ever   
from intercourse with his fellows4  ,and
 well might any good heart sorrow1 for  
this was the order of that office4  ,the
 altar was draped in black1 and ,mass   
for the ,dead was sung2 and all the     
things that ,waldo would need in the    
house of his exile1 from the flint and  
iron which gave fire to the harp which  
should give solace1 were solemnly       
blessed and delivered to him4  ,next he 

was warned not to approach the dwellings
 of men1 or to wash in running streams1 
or to handle the ropes of draw-wells1 or
 to drink from the cups of wayside      
springs4  ,he was forbidden the         
highways1 and when he went abroad a     
clapper must give token of his coming   
and going4  ,nothing that might be used 
by others should he touch except with   
covered hands4  ,when after these       
warnings he had been exhorted to        
patience and trust in ,god's mercy and  
love1 the brethren formed a procession1 
with the cross going before1 and led him
 away to his hermitage among the wooded 
hills4 ,on a little wood-lawn1 beyond a 
brook crossed by stepping-stones1 a hut 
of boughs had been prepared for him1 and
 the ,prior bade him mark the grey      
boulder on the further side of the      
brook1 for there he would find left for 
him1 week by week1 such provisions as he
 needed4  ,last rite of all1 the ,prior 
entering the hut strewed over his bed of
 bracken a handful of mould from the    

churchyard saying1 ,sis mortuus         
mundo--,dead be thou to the world1 but  
living anew to ,god1 and turfs from the 
churchyard were laid on the roof of the 
hut4  ,thus in his grey gown and hood   
was ,waldo committed alive to his grave1
 and the brethren1 chanting a requiem1  
returned to the ,priory4  ,the tidings  
of ,waldo's grievous lot travelled far  
and wide through the ,german land1 and  
thenceforth when his songs were sung    
many a true man's heart was heavy and   
many a good woman's eyes were filled    
with tears as they bethought them of the
 poor singer in his hut among the hills4
 ,kindly souls brought alms and         
provisions and laid them on his boulder 
by the brook1 and oftentimes as they    
came and went they sang some hymn or    
song he had composed1 for they said1 ,so
 best can we let him know that we       
remember him and love him4  ,indeed1 to 
his gentle heart the sound of their     
human voices in that solitude was as the
 warm clasp of a beloved hand4   ,when  

,waldo had lived there alone among the  
hills for the space of two years and    
more1 and his malady had grown exceeding
 hard to bear1 he was seized with a     
woeful longing--such a longing as comes 
upon a little child for its mother when 
it has been left all alone in the house1
 and has gone seeking her in all the    
chambers1 and finds she is not there4   
,and as on a day he went slowly down to 
the boulder by the stream in the failing
 light1 thinking of her who had         
cherished his childhood--how he had     
clung to her gown1 how with his little  
hand in hers he had run by her side1 how
 she had taken him on her lap and made  
his hurts all well with kisses1 his     
heart failed him1 and crying aloud      
,mother1 ,o mother6 he knelt by the     
boulder1 and laid his head on his arms1 
weeping4  ,then from among the trees on 
the further side of the brook came a    
maiden running1 but she paused at the   
stepping-stones when she saw ,waldo1 and
 said1 ,was it thy voice ,i heard       

calling ',mother'8  ,the monk did not   
answer or move4  ,art thou ,brother     
,waldo8 she asked4  ,raising his head1  
he looked at her and replied1 ,i am     
,brother ,waldo4  ,poor brother1 ,i pity
 thee1 said the maiden2 there is no man 
or maid but pities thee4  ,if thou wilt 
tell me of thy mother1 ,i will find her1
 even were ,i to travel far1 and bid her
 come to thee4  ,well ,i wot she will   
come to thee if she may4  ,for all his  
manhood and learning and holiness1      
,waldo could not still the crying of the
 little child within him1 and he told   
the maiden of his mother1 and blessed   
her1 and asked her name4  ,when she     
answered that it was ,dorothy1 ,truly1  
said he1 it is a fair name and gracious1
 and in thy coming thou hast been a gift
 of ,god to me4  ,thereupon the maiden  
left him1 and ,waldo returned to his    
hut1 comforted and full of hope4  ,after
 a month had gone ,dorothy returned4    
,crossing the stepping-stones in the    
clear light of the early morning1 she   

found ,waldo meditating by the door of  
his hut4  ,i have done thy bidding1     
brother1 she said in a gentle voice1 but
 alas6 thy mother cannot come to thee4  
,grieve not too much at this1 for she is
 with ,god4  ,she must have died about  
the time thou didst call for her2 and   
well may ,i believe that it was she who 
sent me to thee in her stead4  ,the will
 of ,god be done1 said ,waldo1 and he   
bowed his head1 and spoke no more for a 
long while2 but the maiden stood        
patiently awaiting till he had mastered 
his grief4  ,at length he raised his    
head and saw her4  ,art thou not gone8  
he asked4  ,i thought thou hadst gone4  
,thou art good and gentle1 and ,i thank 
thee4  ,go now1 for here thou mayst not 
stay4  ,nay1 brother1 replied ,dorothy1 
thou hast no mother to come to thee now1
 no companion or friend to minister to  
thee4  ,this is my place4  ,do not fear 
that ,i shall annoy or weary thee4  ,i  
shall but serve and obey thee1 coming   
and going at thy bidding4  ,truly thou  

art too weak and afflicted to be left   
any more alone4  ,it may not be1 dear   
child4  ,thy father and mother or others
 of thy kinsfolk need thee at home4     
,all these have been long dead1 said    
,dorothy1 and ,i am alone4  ,here in the
 wood ,i will find me a hollow tree1 and
 thou shalt but call to have me by thee1
 and but lift a finger to see me no     
more4  ,why wouldst thou do this for me8
 asked ,waldo1 wondering at her         
persistency4  ,ah1 brother1 ,i know thy 
suffering and ,i love thy songs4  ,and  
dost thou not shudder at this horror    
that is upon me1 and dread lest the like
 befall thee too8  ,then ,dorothy       
laughed low and softly to herself1 and  
answered only so4   ,in this wise the   
maiden came to minister to the poor     
recluse1 and so gracious was she and    
humble1 so prudent and yet so tender1   
that in his suffering she was great     
solace to him1 bringing his food from   
the boulder and his drink from the      
brook1 cleaning his cell and freshening 

it with fragrant herbs2 and about the   
cell she made a garden of wholesome     
plants and wild flowers1 and all kindly 
service that was within her power she   
did for him4  ,so beautiful was she and 
of such exceeding sweetness1 that when  
his eyes rested upon her1 he questioned 
in his mind whether she was a true woman
 and not an ,angel sent down to console 
him in his dereliction4 ,and that doubt 
perplexed and troubled him1 for so      
little are we ,angels yet that in our   
aches and sorrows of the flesh it is not
 the comfort of ,angels but the poor    
human pitiful touch of the              
fellow-creature that we most yearn for4 
,once1 indeed1 he asked her fretfully1  
,tell me truly in the name of ,god1 art 
thou a very woman of flesh and blood8   
,truly then1 brother1 she answered1     
smiling1 ,i am of mortal flesh and blood
 even as thou art1 and time shall be    
when this body that thou seest will be  
mingled with the dust of the earth4  ,is
 it then the way of women to sacrifice  

so much for men as thou hast done for   
me8  ,it is the way of women who love   
well1 said ,dorothy4  ,then needs must  
,i thank thy namesake and my patroness  
in heaven1 rejoined ,waldo4  ,yea1 and  
is ,st4 ,dorothea thy patroness8 asked  
the maiden4  ,waldo told her that so it 
was1 and rapturously he spoke of the    
young and beautiful saint done to death 
in ,caesarea1 and of the fruit and      
flowers of ,paradise which she sent to  
,theophilus4  ,and ,i would1 he sighed  
under his breath1 that she would send   
such a gift to me4  ,all this ,i know1  
said ,dorothy1 for ,i have learnt thy   
song of ,golden ,apples and ,roses ,red1
 and ,i love it most of all thy songs1  
though these be many and sung all about 
the world1 ,i think4  ,and this ,i will 
tell thee of thy songs1 that ,i saw in a
 dream once how they were not mere words
 and melody1 but living things4  ,like  
the bright heads of baby ,angels were   
they1 and they were carried on wings as 
it were of rose-leaves1 and they        

fluttered about the people who loved    
them and sang them1 leading them into   
blessed paths and whispering to them    
holy and happy thoughts4  ,god be       
blessed and praised for ever1 if it be  
so1 said ,waldo2 but this was no more   
than a maiden's dream4   ,for two       
winters ,dorothy ministered to the poor 
leper1 and during this while no one save
 ,waldo knew of her being in the woods1 
and no other man set eyes on her4  ,the 
fourth year of his exile was now drawing
 to a close1 and ,waldo had fallen into 
extreme weakness by reason of his       
malady1 and over his face he wore a mask
 of grey cloth1 with two holes for his  
great piteous eyes4  ,it was in the     
springtide1 and one night as he lay     
sleepless in the dark1 listening to the 
long murmur of the wind in the swaying  
pines1 he heard overhead sharp cries and
 trumpetings1 and the creaking and      
winnowing of wings innumerable4  ,rising
 from his bed1 he went out of doors1 and
 looked up into the dark heavens2 and   

high and spectral among the clouded     
stars he saw the home-coming of the     
cranes4  ,he sat on the bench beside his
 door1 and watched them sail past in    
thousands1 filling the night with a     
fleeting clamour and eerie sounds4  ,as 
he sat he mused on the strange longing  
which brought these birds over land and 
sea back home1 year by year1 with the   
returning spring1 and he marvelled that 
the souls of men1 which are but birds of
 passage in these earthly fields1 should
 be so slow to feel that longing for    
their true home-land4  ,that day when   
,dorothy came to the hut1 he said to    
her3 ,it is well to be glad1 for1 though
 the air is still keen1 the spring is   
here4  ,i heard the cranes returning in 
the night4  ,and ,i too heard them2 and 
,i heard thee rejoicing1 playing on thy 
harp and singing4  ,that could not be1  
sister1 said ,waldo1 unless in a dream4 
,no longer can ,i touch harp-string1 as 
thou knowest4  ,in truth ,i was awake   
and heard1 said ,dorothy2 and the song  

thou wast singing was of birds of       
passage1 and of the longing of exiles to
 go home1 and of the dark wherethrough  
we must pass1 with cries and beating    
wings1 ere we can find our way back to  
our true home-land4'  ,nay1 it must have
 been a dream1 said ,waldo1 for as ,i   
sat with my hands hidden in my gown ,i  
did but play an imaginary harp1 making  
still music in my heart1 and no song    
came from my lips4  ,the more strange   
that ,i should hear6 replied ,dorothy1  
smiling as she went her way4   ,in a    
little while from this the poor brother 
felt that the end of his martyrdom drew 
nigh2 and as he lay feeble and faint in 
the shadow of the hut 7for the day was  
clement71 sighing for the hour of his   
deliverance1 ,dorothy came from the     
woods4  ,in her hand she carried a      
basket1 and as she stood over him she   
said1 ,see what ,i have brought for     
thee4  ,lifting his head weakly1 and    
looking through the eyelets of his grey 
mask1 ,waldo saw that the basket        

contained three golden apples and three 
red roses1 though still it was but early
 days in spring4  ,at sight of them he  
uttered a cry of gladness 7for all it   
was a cry hollow and hoarse71 and strove
 to rise and throw himself at her feet4 
,nay1 brother1 she said1 refrain2 lie   
still and breathe the sweetness of the  
roses and taste of the fruit4  ,she gave
 him one of the apples1 and putting it  
to his mouth he tasted it and sighed    
deeply4  ,in a moment all pain and      
suffering had left him1 and his spirit  
was light and gladsome4  ,his eyes too  
were opened1 so that he knew that       
,dorothy had no way deceived him1 but   
was truly a living woman of flesh and   
blood like himself4  ,then a heavenly   
peace descended upon him like a         
refreshing dew1 and he closed his eyes  
for the great ease he felt4  ,while     
these things were happening1 came from  
,three ,fountains the lay-brother who   
brought ,waldo his provisions4          
,crossing the brook to set his budget on

 the boulder1 he saw the poor recluse   
lying in the lee of the hut1 and        
,dorothy leaning over him4  ,wherefore  
he hastened across the wood-lawn1 but in
 an instant the fair woman vanished     
before his eyes1 and when he came to the
 hut he saw that ,waldo was dead4  ,he  
carried the basket of flowers and fruit 
to the ,priory1 and told what he had    
seen2 and the ,prior1 marvelling        
greatly1 came to the place and gave the 
poor leper brother a blessed burial4    
,now at this time a wondrous strange    
occurrence was the talk of ,rome4  ,the 
year wherein ,waldo died was that       
seventh year in which the shrine of ,st4
 ,dorothea is opened in her church      
beyond ,tiber2 and the day on which it  
is opened fell a little while before the
 death of ,waldo4  ,behold1 then1 when  
on the vigil of that feast the priests  
unlocked the shrine1 the place where    
aforetime the holy body of the martyr   
had lain was empty4  ,great was the     
dismay1 loud the lamentation1 grievous  

the suspicion4  ,the custodians of the  
church and the shrine were seized and   
cast into prison1 where they lay till   
the day of their trial4  ,on the morning
 of that day the church of ,st4         
,dorothea was filled with a divine      
fragrance1 which seemed to transpire    
from the empty shrine as from a         
celestial flower4  ,wherefore once again
 the shrine was opened1 and there1 even 
such as they had been seen by many of   
the faithful seven years before1 lay the
 relics of the ,saint in their old      
resting-place4   ,now to all poor souls 
,god grant a no less happy end of days  
than this which ,he vouchsafed to the   
poor leper-singer ,waldo of the ,priory 
of ,three ,fountains4     ,the ,seven   
,years of ,seeking  ,here begins the    
chapter of the ,seven ,years of         
,seeking4  ,for1 trying greatly to win  
sight of that blessed isle1 the ,earthly
 ,paradise1 the monk ,serapion and his  
eleven companions hoisted sail2 and for 
seven years they continued in that      

seeking1 wandering with little respite  
under cloud and star1 in all the ways of
 the sea of ocean which goeth round the 
world4   ,now this chapter was read of  
evenings in the refectory at supper1 in 
the winter of the ,great ,snow4  ,while 
the drifts without lay fathom-deep in   
sheltered places1 and the snow was      
settling on the weather-side of things  
in long slopes like white pent-houses1  
the community listened with rapt        
attention1 picturing to themselves the  
slanting ship1 and the red sail of skins
 with its yellow cross in the midst1 and
 the marvellous vision of vast waters1  
and the strange islands4  ,then suddenly
 the ,prior would strike the table1 and 
according to the custom the reader would
 close his book with the words1 ,tu     
autem1 ,domine--,but do ,thou1 ,o ,lord1
 have mercy upon us6 and the monks would
 rise1 with interest still keen in the  
wanderings of the ,sea-farers4  ,seeing 
that it would be of little profit to    
break up the reading as the ,prior was  

wont to break it up1 ,i will give the   
story here without pause or hindrance1  
as though it had all been read in a     
single evening at supper1 and keep my   
,tu autem for the end of all4  ,and     
truly it is at the end of all that most 
there is need of that prayer4  ,so      
without more ado4   ,serapion and his   
companions were1 all save one1 monks of 
the ,abbey of the ,holy ,face4  ,not the
 first ,abbey of that name1 in the warm 
green woods in the western creek of     
,broce-,liande1 but the second1 which is
 nearer to the sunrise4  ,for the site  
of the first ,abbey was most delightful1
 and so sheltered from the weary wind of
 the west1 and so open to the radiance  
of the morning1 that1 save it were      
,paradise1 no man could come at a place 
so gracious and delectable4  ,there     
earliest broke the land into leaf and   
blossom2 and there the leaf was last to 
fall2 and there one could not die1 not  
even the very aged4  ,wherefore1 in     
order that the long years of their      

pilgrimage might be shortened1 the      
brethren prevailed on the ,abbot to     
remove to another site1 nearer the      
spring of the day2 and in this new      
house1 one by one in due season1 they   
were caught up to the repose of the     
heavens1 the aged fathers dying first1  
as is seemly4  ,this then was the second
 ,abbey of the ,holy ,face1 and its     
pleasant woods ran down to the shore of 
the sea4  ,and going east or going west1
 where the green billow shades into blue
 water1 the ships of the mariners kept  
passing and repassing day after day2 and
 their sails seemed to cast an enchanted
 shadow across the cloister2 and the    
monks1 as they watched them leaning over
 to the breeze1 dreamed of the wondrous 
,garden of ,eden1 which had not been    
swallowed up by the ,deluge1 but had    
been saved as an isle inviolate amid the
 fountains of the great deep2 and they  
asked each other whether not one of all 
these sea-farers would ever bring back a
 fruit or a flower or a leaf from the   

arbours of delight in which our first   
parents had dwelt4  ,they spoke of the  
voyage of ,brendan the ,saint1 and of   
the exceeding loveliness of the ,earthly
 ,paradise1 and of the deep bliss of    
breathing its air celestial1 till it    
needed little to set many of them off on
 a like perilous adventure4  ,of all the
 brethren ,serapion was the most eager  
to begin that seeking4 ,and this was    
what brought him to it at last4   ,there
 came to the ,abbey on a day in spring  
that youthful ,bishop of ,arimathea who 
in after time made such great fame in   
the world4  ,tall and stately was he1   
and black-bearded2 a guest pleasant and 
wise1 and ripe with the experience of   
distant travel and converse with many   
chief men4  ,now he was on his way to   
the great house of ,glastonbury oversea1
 to bring back with him1 if he might be 
so fortunate1 the body of the saint of  
his city who had helped our ,lord to    
bear ,his cross on the ,way ,dolorous2  
or1 if that were an issue beyond his    

skill1 at least some precious memorial  
of that saint4  ,many things worthy of  
remembrance he told of what he had seen 
and heard2 and no small marvel did it   
seem to speak with one who had stood on 
,mount ,sinai in the wilderness4  ,from 
the top of that mountain1 he said1 one  
looked down on a region stretching to   
the ,red ,sea1 and in the midst of the  
plain there is a monastery of saintly   
recluses1 but no man can discover any   
track that leads to it4  ,faint and far 
away the bells are heard tolling for    
prime1 it may be1 or vespers1 and it is 
believed that now and again some weary  
traveller has reached it1 but no one has
 ever returned4  ,the ,ishmaelites1 who 
dwell in the wilderness1 have ridden    
long in search of it1 guided by the     
sound of the bells1 but never have they 
succeeded in catching a gleam of its    
white walls among the palm-trees1 nor   
yet of the green palms4  ,the ,abbot of 
that house1 it is said1 is none other   
than the little child whom our ,lord set

 in the midst of ,his ,disciples1       
saying1 ,except ye become as little     
children1 and he will abide on the earth
 till our ,lord's return1 and then shall
 he enter into the kingdom with ,him1   
without tasting death4  ,speaking of the
 holy places1 ,calvary1 it might be1 or 
the ,garden of ,olives and the sepulchre
 of the ,lord1 and of the pilgrims who  
visited these1 he repeated to us the    
saying of the saintly ,father           
,hieronymus3 ,to live in ,jerusalem is  
not a very holy thing1 but to live a    
holy life in ,jerusalem4  ,and walking  
with many of our brethren on the shore  
of the sea and seeing the sails of the  
ships as they went by1 he questioned us 
of the wonders of the great waters1 and 
of sea-faring1 and of the last edge of  
the living earth1 and he said3 ,tell me1
 you who abide within sight of so many  
ships1 and who hear continually the song
 of the great creature ,sea1 how would  
it fare with one who should sail        
westward and keep that one course       

constantly8  ,we said that we knew not2 
it were like he would perish of famine  
or thirst1 or be whelmed in the deep4   
,ay1 he said1 but if he were well       
provisioned1 with no lack of food and   
water1 and the weather held fair8  ,that
 we could not answer1 for it seemed to  
us that such a one would lose heart and 
hope in the roofless waste1 with never a
 stone or tree1 nor any shadow save a   
cloud's1 and turn back dismayed2 but    
,serapion replied3 ,to me it appears1   
your ,discretion1 that so bold a        
mariner1 if years failed him not1 might 
win to the ,earthly ,paradise4  ,so have
 ,i heard1 said the ,bishop4  ,yet here 
would you be sailing into the west1 and 
for a certainty the ,paradise of ,god   
was in the east4 ,how would you give a  
reasonable account of this8  ,but we    
could make no reply1 for we knew not2   
nor ,serapion more than we4  ,now1      
watching the sea1 said the ,bishop1 you 
have marked the ships1 how they go4     
,when they come to you1 they first show 

the mast-top1 then the sail1 and last   
the body of the ship1 and perchance the 
sweep of the oars1 reverse-wise when    
they depart from you1 you first fail to 
see the body of the ship1 and then the  
sail1 but longest you hold in sight the 
mast-top1 or it may be a bright streamer
 flying therefrom1 or a cross glittering
 in the light--though these be but small
 things compared with the body of the   
ship4  ,is it not so8  ,we answered1    
readily enough1 that so it was4  ,is it 
not then even as though one were to     
watch a wayfarer on horse-back1 going or
 coming over the green bulge of a low   
hill8  ,were he coming to you1 you would
 first see the head of the rider1 and   
last the legs of the horse1 and were he 
riding away the horse would first go    
down over the hill1 but still1 for a    
little1 you would see the man waving his
 hand in farewell as he sank lower and  
lower4  ,such indeed1 we said1 was the  
fashion of a ship's coming and going4   
,does it not then seem a likely thing1  

said his ,discretion1 that the sea is in
 the nature of a long low hill1 down    
which the ships go8  ,so have ,i heard  
it surmised by wise men1 sages and      
scholars of the lights of heaven1 in the
 cities of ,greece and ,egypt4  ,for the
 earth and the ocean-sea1 they teach1 is
 fashioned as a vast globe in the       
heights of heaven4  ,and truly1 if      
indeed it be the shadow of the world    
which darkens the face of the moon in   
time of eclipse1 the earth may well be  
round1 for that shadow is round4  ,thus1
 then1 one holding ever a westward      
course might sail down the bulge of the 
sea1 and under the world1 and round     
about even unto the east1 if there be   
sea-way all along that course4          
,silently we listened to so strange a   
matter1 but the ,bishop traced for us on
 the sand a figure of the earth4  ,and  
here1 said he1 is this land of ours1 and
 here the sea1 and here the bulge of    
ocean1 and here a ship sailing westward2
 and here in the east is the ,earthly   

,paradise2 and mark now how the ship    
fareth onward ever on the one course    
unchanged1 till it cometh to that       
blessed place4  ,truly this was a       
wondrous teaching2 and when we          
questioned how they who sailed could    
escape falling out and perishing1 they  
and indeed their ship1 when they came so
 far down the round sea that they hung  
heads nethermost1 his ,discretion       
laughed3 ,nay1 if the sea1 which the    
wind breaketh and lifteth and bloweth   
about in grey showers1 fall not out1    
neither will the ship1 nor yet the      
mariners2 for the ,lord ,god hath so    
ordered it that wheresoever mariners be1
 there the sea shall seem to them no    
less flat than a great grass-meadow when
 the wind swings the grass2 and if they 
hang head downward they know not of it2 
but rather1 seeing over them the sun and
 the clouds1 they might well pity our   
evil case1 deeming it was we who were   
hanging heads nethermost4  ,now this and
 suchlike converse with the ,bishop so  

moved ,serapion that he lost the        
quietude of soul and the deep gladness  
of heart which are the portion of the   
cloister4  ,day and night his thought   
was flying under sail across the sea    
towards the ,earthly ,paradise1 and     
others there were who were of one       
longing with him4  ,wherefore at last   
they prayed leave of the ,abbot to build
 a ship and to try the venture4  ,the   
,abbot consented1 but when they besought
 him to go with them and to lead them1  
he shook his head smiling1 and answered3
 ,nay1 children1 ,i am an aged man1     
little fitted for such a labour4  ,wiser
 is it for me to lean my staff against  
my fig-tree1 and have in mind the       
eternal years4 ,moreover1 as you know1  
many are the sons in this house who look
 to me for fatherly care4  ,but if it be
 your wish1 one shall go with you to be 
the twelfth of your company4  ,in hours 
of peril and perplexity and need1 if    
such should befall you1 you shall bid   
him pray earnestly1 and after he has    

prayed1 heed what he shall say1 even as 
you would heed the words of your ,abbot4
  ,no better ,abbot and counsellor could
 you have1 for he hath still preserved  
his baptismal innocence4  ,it is        
,ambrose1 the little chorister4         
,serapion and the others wondered at    
this1 but readily they accepted the     
,abbot's choice of a companion4  ,think 
now of the ship as built--a goodly ship 
of stout timber frame covered two-ply   
with hides seasoned and sea-worthy1 well
 found in provisions against a long     
voyage1 fitted with sturdy mast of pine 
and broad sail4  ,and think of the ,mass
 as sung1 with special prayer to ,him   
who is the confidence of them that are  
afar off upon the sea4  ,and think of   
the leave-taking and blessing as over   
and done1 and of the ,sea-farers as all 
aboard1 eleven brethren and ,ambrose the
 chorister1 a little lad of nine        
summers4  ,now all is cast loose1 and   
the red sail is drawn up the mast and   
set puffing1 and the ship goes out1     

dipping and springing1 into the deep4   
,on the shore the religious stand       
watching2 and ,serapion is at the       
rudder1 steering and glancing back2 and 
the others aboard are waving hands      
landward2 and on a thwart beside the    
mast stands the little lad1 and at a    
sign from ,serapion he lifts up his     
clear sweet voice1 singing joyfully the 
,kyrie eleison of the ,litany4  ,the    
eleven join in the glad song1 and it is 
caught up by the voices of those on     
shore1 as though it were by an organ2   
and as he sings the lad ,ambrose watches
 the white ruffled wake-water of the    
ship1 how it streams between the        
unbroken green sea on either hand1 and  
it seems to him most like the running of
 a shallow brook when it goes ruffling  
over the pebbles in the greenwood4  ,to 
those on ship and to those on shore the 
song of each grew a fainter hearing as  
the distance widened2 and the magnitude 
of the ship lessened2 and first the hull
 went down the bulge of the ocean1 and  

next the sail2 and long ere it was      
sunset all trace of the ,sea-farers had 
vanished away4   ,now is this company of
 twelve gone forth into the great       
waters2 far from the beloved house of   
the ,holy ,face are they gone1 and far  
from the blithesome green aspect of the 
good earth2 and no man of them knoweth  
what bane or blessing is in store for   
him1 or whether he shall ever again     
tread on grass or ground4  ,a little    
tearfully they think of their dear      
cloister-mates1 but they are high of    
heart nothing the less4 ,their ship is  
their garth1 and cloister1 and choir1   
wherein they praise ,god with full      
voices through all the hours from matins
 to compline4  ,of the bright weather   
and fresh wind which carried them       
westward many days it would be tedious  
to tell1 and indeed little that was     
strange did they see at that time1 save 
it were a small bird flying high athwart
 their course1 and a tree1 with its     
branches and green leaves unlopped1     

which lay in the swing of the wave2 but 
whither and whence the bird was flying1 
or where that tree grew in soil1 they   
could not guess4  ,of what happened to  
them in the course of their seeking1    
even of that the telling must be brief1 
flitting from one event to another1 even
 as the small ,peter-bird flits from the
 top of one wave to the top of another1 
nor wets foot or feather in the marbled 
sea between2 else would the story of the
 seeking linger out the full seven years
 of the seeking4   ,the first trial that
 befell them was dense wintry fog1 in   
the dusk of which they lay with lowered 
sail on a sullen sea for a day and a    
night4 ,when the change came1 it brought
 with it the blowing of a fierce gale   
with a plague of sleet and hail-stones1 
and they were chased out of the fog1 and
 driven far into the south4  ,great     
billows followed them as they ran1 and  
broke about the stern of the ship in    
fountains of freezing spray which       
drenched them to the skin4  ,little ease

 had they in their sea-faring in that   
long race with the north wind1 for every
 moment they looked to have the mast    
torn up by the root and the frame-work  
of the ship broken asunder4  ,the salt  
surf quenched their fire and mingled    
their bread with bitterness4  ,aching   
they were and weary1 and sorrowful      
enough to sleep1 when the tempest       
abated1 and the sun returned1 and the   
sea rolled in long glassy swells4  ,as  
the sun blazed out1 and the sea         
glittered over all his trackless ways1  
,serapion said to the chorister3 ,ha1   
little brother1 'tis good1 is it not8 to
 see the bright sun once more4  ,his    
face is as the face of an ,angel to us4 
,the lad looked at him curiously1 but   
made no answer4  ,art thou ailing1 or   
sad1 or home-sick1 little one1 that thou
 hast nought to say8 asked ,serapion4   
,nay1 father1 ,i was but thinking of thy
 words1 that the face of the sun is as  
the face of an ,angel4  ,ay6  ,and is it
 not so8  ,nay1 father4  ,when ,i have  

seen the sun at sunrise and at sunset ,i
 have ever seen a ring of splendid      
,angels1 and in the midst of the ring   
the snow-white ,lamb with his red cross1
 and the ,angels were moving constantly 
around the ,lamb1 joyfully glittering2  
and that was the sun4 ,but as it rose   
into the heavens the ,angels dazzled    
mine eyes so that ,i could see them no  
more1 nor yet the ,lamb1 for very       
brightness4  ,is the sun then otherwise 
than what ,i see8  ,then was it         
,serapion's turn to muse1 and he        
answered3  ,to thy young eyes which be  
clear and strong--yet try them not      
overmuch--it is doubtless as thou       
sayest2 but we who are older have lost  
the piercing sight1 and to us the sun is
 but a great and wonderful splendour    
which dazzles us before we can descry   
either the ,angels or the ,lamb4        
,meanwhile the ,sea-farers ate and drank
 and spread their raiment to dry1 and   
some were oppressed by the memory of the
 hardships they had endured2 but        

,serapion1 going among them1 cheered    
them with talk of the ,earthly          
,paradise1 and of the joy it would be1  
when they had won thither1 to think of  
the evil chances through which they had 
passed4 ,in a low tone he also spoke to 
them of their small companion and his   
vision of the sun4  ,truly1 he said1 it 
is as our ,father ,abbot told us--he has
 not lost his baptismal innocence1 nor  
hath he lost all knowledge of the heaven
 from which he came4  ,as he was        
speaking thus1 one of the brethren rose 
up with a cry1 and1 shading his eyes    
with his hand1 pointed into the west4   
,far away in the shimmer of the sea and 
the clouds they perceived an outline of 
land1 and they changed their course a   
little to come to it4  ,the wind carried
 them bravely on1 and they began to     
distinguish blue rounded hills and      
ridges1 and a little later green        
woodland1 and still later1 on the edge  
of twilight1 the white gleam of waters1 
and glimpses of open lawns tinged with  

the colour of grasses in flower4  ,with 
beating hearts they leaned on the low   
bulwark of the ship1 drinking in the    
beauty of the island4  ,then out of a   
leafy creek shot a boat of white and    
gold2 and though it was far off1 the air
 was so crystalline that they saw it was
 garlanded with fresh leaves1 and red   
and yellow and blue blossoms2 and in it 
there were many lovely forms1 clothed in
 white and crowned with wreaths         
rose-coloured and golden4  ,when the    
,sea-farers perceived that the boat     
glided towards them without sail or oar1
 they said among themselves1 ,these are 
assuredly the spirits of the ,blessed2  
and when suddenly the boat paused in its
 course1 and the islanders began a sweet
 song1 and the brethren caught the words
 and knew them for ,latin1 they were    
fain to believe that they had1 by       
special grace and after brief           
tribulations1 got within sight of the   
shore they sought4  ,the song was one of
 a longing for peace and deep sleep and 

dreamful joy and love in the valleys of 
the isle2 and it bade the ,sea-farers   
come to them1 and take repose after cold
 and hunger and toil on the sea4  ,tears
 of gladness ran down the cheeks of     
several of the ,seekers as they         
listened1 and one of them cried aloud3  
,o brothers1 we have come far1 but it is
 worth the danger and the suffering to  
hear this welcome of the ,blessed4  ,now
 the small chorister1 who was standing  
by ,serapion at the helm1 touched the   
father's sleeve1 and asked in a low     
voice3 ,have ,i leave to sing in answer8
  ,sing1 little son1 ,serapion replied4 
,then1 ringing the blessed bell of the  
,sea-farers1 the child intoned the      
evening hymn3      ,te lucis ante       
terminum--   ,before the waning of the  
light4  ,the instant his fresh young    
voice was heard singing that holy hymn1 
the flower-garlands about the boat broke
 into ghastly flames1 and wreathed it   
with a dreadful burning2 and the radiant
 figures were changed into dark shapes  

crowned with fire2 and the song of      
longing and love became a wailing and   
gnashing of teeth4  ,the island vanished
 away in rolling smoke2 and the boat    
burned down like a darkening ember2 and 
the ,sea-farers in their ship were once 
more alone in the wilderness of waters4 
,long they prayed that night1 praising  
,god that they had escaped the snares   
and enchantments of the fiends4  ,and   
,serapion1 drawing the lad to him1      
kissed him1 saying3 ,god be with thee1  
little brother1 in thy uprising and thy 
down-lying6  ,god be with thee1 little  
son6   ,after this they were again      
driven into the south for many a day1   
and saw no earthly shore1 but everywhere
 unending waters4  ,a great wonderment  
to them was this immensity of the sea of
 ocean1 wherein the land seemed a little
 thing lost for ever4  ,and ever as they
 drove onward1 the pilot star of the    
north was steadfast no longer1 but sank 
lower and still lower in the heavens1   
and many of the everlasting lights1     

which at home they had seen swing round 
it through the livelong night1 were now 
sunken1 as it were1 in the billows4     
,truly1 said ,serapion1 it is even as   
his ,discretion the ,bishop told us2    
whether east we sail or west1 or        
cross-wise north and south1 the earth is
 of the figure of a ball4  ,in a little 
while it may be that we shall see the   
pilot star no more2 and he was sorely   
troubled in his mind as to how they     
should steer thereafter with no beacon  
in heaven to guide them1 and how they   
would make their way back to the ,abbey 
of the ,holy ,face4  ,in their wandering
 they set eyes on a thing well-nigh     
incredible--nothing less than fishes    
rising from the depths of the sea1 and  
flying like birds over the ship1 and    
diving into the sea again1 and yet again
 rising into the air and disporting     
themselves in the sun4  ,at night1 too1 
they beheld about the ship trails of    
fire in the sea1 crossing and           
re-crossing each other1 and the fire    

marked the ways of huge blue fishes1    
swift and terrible2 and the ,sea-farers 
prayed that these malignant searchers of
 the deep might not rise into the air   
and fall ravening upon them while they  
slept4  ,in the darkness strange patches
 and tangles of light1 blue and golden  
and emerald1 floated past them1 and     
these they discovered were living       
creatures to which they could give no   
names4  ,often also the sea was alive   
with fire1 which flashed and ran along  
the ridges of the waves when they curled
 and broke1 and many a night the sides  
of the ship were washed with flame1 but 
this fire was wet and cold1 and nowise  
hurt a hand of those who touched it4    
,at last on a clear morning the little  
chorister came hastily to ,serapion and 
said3 ,look1 father1 is not yon a       
glimmer of the heavenly land we seek8   
,nay1 little son1 it is but grey cloud  
that has not yet caught the sun1 replied
 ,serapion4  ,that1 indeed1 is cloud2   
but look higher1 father4  ,see how white

 and sharp it shines6  ,then ,serapion  
lifted up his eyes above the cloud1 and 
in mid heaven there floated as it were a
 great rock of pointed crystal1 white   
and unearthly4  ,serapion's eyes        
brightened with eagerness1 and the      
,sea-farers gazed long at the peak1     
which rather seemed a star1 or a        
headland on some celestial shore1 so    
bright and dreamlike was it and so      
magically poised in the high air4  ,all 
day they sailed towards it1 and         
sometimes it vanished from their view1  
but it returned constantly4  ,on the    
third day they came to that land4       
,bright and beautiful it was to their   
sea-wearied eyes2 and of a surety no    
land is there that goes so nearly to    
heaven4  ,for it rose in green and      
flowery heights till it was lost in a   
ring of dusky sea-cloud2 and through    
this vast ring of cloud it pierced its  
way1 and the ,sea-farers saw it emerge  
and stand clear above the cloud1 bluish 
with the distance4  ,and higher still it

 rose1 and entered a second great       
cloud-ring1 but this ring was white2 and
 once more it emerged from the          
cloud-ring1 and high over all towered   
the pyramid of shining stone4  ,well    
might it be that ,angels often alight on
 this soaring mountain1 said ,serapion1 
and leave it glittering with their      
footprints4  ,if life and strength be   
given us1 thither we also shall climb1  
and praise ,god in the lofty places of  
the earth which ,he has made4  ,they    
steered the ship into a sunny bay1 and  
,serapion having blessed the sea and the
 shore1 they landed right joyfully4     
,drawing the ship high on the beach1    
they chose a little grove of palm-trees 
beside a shallow stream for their church
 and cloister2 but they had not been    
long in that spot before they saw the   
islanders gliding through the wood and  
peering out at them in great amaze4     
,serapion went forth to them1 smiling   
and beckoning them to approach1 but they
 fled and would not abide his coming4   

,so ,serapion returned1 and the         
,sea-farers made themselves such a home 
as they might1 and rested a little from 
their toiling4  ,when the day had come  
to evening1 and the brethren were       
chanting vespers1 the islanders         
returned1 many hundreds of them1 men and
 women1 dusky of skin but comely and    
bright-eyed1 and for all their raiment  
they wore garlands of blossoms and      
girdles of woven leaves4  ,close they   
came to the ,sea-farers1 and gazed at   
them1 and the boldest touched them1 as  
though to assure themselves that these  
were living mortals like unto           
themselves4  ,but when they saw the     
little chorister1 with his fair white   
face and childish blue eyes and sunny   
hair1 they turned to each other with    
exclamations and uncouth gestures of    
pleasure and wonderment4  ,then they    
hurried away and brought strange and    
delightful fruit--berries1 and fruit in 
a skin yellow and curved like a sickle  
moon1 and big nuts full of water sweet  

and cool1 and these they laid before the
 lad4  ,wreaths of flowers1 too1 they   
wove for him1 and put them on his head  
and about his neck1 as though they were 
rejoiced to see him and could not make  
too much of him4  ,the brethren were    
light of heart that they had come to an 
isle so gracious and a folk so simple   
and loving4  ,sleep1 sweet as dews of   
,paradise1 fell upon their weariness    
that night1 and they rose refreshed and 
glad for matins1 which they chanted by  
the light of large and radiant stars    
flashing down through the palms4  ,what 
happened that day1 however1 the         
,sea-farers did not wholly understand   
till long afterwards1 when they had     
learned the speech of the people2 but   
out of their later knowledge ,i shall   
here make it plain4  ,now in the olden  
time the mighty mountain of this island 
had been a burning mountain1 and even   
now1 in a huge craggy cup beneath the   
glittering peak1 there was a vast well  
of fire and molten rock2 and the peak   

and well were the lair of an evil spirit
 so strong and terrible that each year  
the island folk gave him a child to     
appease him1 lest in his malignant mood 
he should let the well overflow and     
consume them with its waters of fire4   
,wherefore1 as this was the season of   
the sacrifice1 the islanders seeing the 
little chorister1 how fair and beautiful
 he was1 deemed he would be a more      
acceptable offering to the spirit of    
evil than one of their children1 whom   
they were heart-sick of slaying4  ,on   
this day1 therefore1 they came at dawn1 
and with many gestures and much strange 
speech led away the lad1 and with gentle
 force kept the brethren apart from him1
 though they suffered them to follow4   
,in a little while the child was clothed
 with flowers and leaves like one of    
themselves1 and in the midst of a great 
crowd singing a barbarous strain1 he was
 borne on a litter of boughs up the     
ascent of the mountain4  ,many times    
they paused and rested in the heat1 and 

the day was far spent when they reached 
the foot of the lofty peak4  ,there they
 passed the night1 but though the       
brethren strove to force their way to   
the lad1 they were restrained by the    
strength of the multitude1 and they knew
 that violence was useless4  ,again in  
the twilight before dawn the islanders  
resumed the journey and came to the edge
 of the craggy cup1 in the depths of    
which bubbled the well of fire4         
,silently they stood on the brink1      
looking towards the east2 but the       
,sea-farers1 who now deemed only too    
well that their little brother was about
 to be sacrificed to ,moloch1 cast      
themselves on their knees1 and with     
tears running down their faces1 raised  
their hands in supplication to heaven4  
,but with a loud voice ,serapion cried3 
,fear not1 dear son2 for the ,lord can  
save thee from the mouth of the lion1   
and hear thee from the horns of the     
unicorns4  ,the little chorister        
answered3 ,pray for my soul1 ,father    

,serapion2 for my body ,i have no fear1 
even though they cast me into the pit4  
,in the streaming east the rays of light
 were springing ever more brilliantly   
over the clear sea2 two strong men held 
the lad and lifted him from the ground2 
an aged islander--a priest1 it seemed1  
of that evil spirit--white-haired and   
crowned with flowers1 watched the sky   
with dull eyes2 and as the sun came up  
with a rush of splendour1 he called     
aloud3 ,god of the mountain-fire1 take  
this life we give thee1 and be good and 
friendly to us4  ,then was little       
,ambrose the chorister swung twice to   
and fro1 and hurled far out into the    
rocky cup of the well of fire4  ,and a  
wild cry arose from the crowd3 ,take    
this life1 take this life6--but even as 
that cry was being uttered the lad was  
stayed in his fall1 and he stood on the 
air over the fiery well1 as though the  
air had been turned to solid crystal1   
and he ran on the air across the abyss  
to the brethren1 and ,serapion caught   

him in his arms and folded him to his   
breast4  ,then fell a deep stillness and
 dread upon the people1 and what to do  
they knew not2 but the aged priest and  
the strong men who had flung the boy    
into the gulf came to the brethren1 and 
casting themselves on their faces before
 the chorister1 placed his foot on their
 heads4  ,wherefore ,serapion surmised  
that they now took him for a youthful   
god or spirit more powerful than the    
evil spirit of the fire4  ,touching     
them1 he signed to them to arise1 and   
when they stood erect he pointed to the 
abyss1 and gathering a handful of dust  
he threw it despitefully into the well  
of fire1 and afterwards spat into the   
depths4  ,this show of scorn and        
contumely greatly overawed the people1  
and 7as was made known afterwards7 they 
looked on the ,sea-farers as strong     
gods1 merciful and much to be loved4    
,thrice did the ,sea-farers hold ,easter
 in that island1 for there they resolved
 to stay till they had learned the      

island speech1 and freed the people from
 the bondage of demons1 and taught them 
the worship of the one ,god who is in   
the heavens4  ,now though the wind blew 
with an icy mouth on that high peak1 in 
the rocks of the crater it was          
sheltered1 and warm because of the inner
 fires of the mountain4  ,so it was     
ordered that in turn one brother should 
abide on the peak1 and one in a cave    
midway down the mountain1 and one on the
 slopes where the palms and orange-trees
 are rooted among the white-flowered    
sweet-scented broom4  ,and each of these
 had a great trumpet of bark1 and when  
the first ray of light streamed out of  
the east in the new day1 the brother of 
the peak cried through his trumpet with 
a mighty voice3    ,laudetur ,jesus     
,christus1   ,may ,christ ,jesus be     
praised1  and the brother of the cave1  
having responded1    ,in saecula        
saeculorum1   ,world without end1  cried
 mightily to the brother of the palms1  
,may ,christ ,jesus be praised6--and    

thus from the heights in the heavens to 
the shore of the sea4  ,so1 too1 when   
the last light of the setting sun burned
 out on the western billows4  ,thus was 
the reign of the spirit of evil         
abolished1 and the mountain consecrated 
to the praise of ,him who made the hills
 and the isles of the sea4  ,in the     
strong light of the morning sun the     
shadow of that mountain is cast over the
 great sea of ocean further than a swift
 ship may sail with a fair wind in two  
days and two nights2 and a man placed on
 the peak shall see that shadow suddenly
 rise up from the sea and stand over    
against the mountain1 dark and          
menaceful1 like the lost soul of a      
mountain bearing testimony against its  
body before the judgment-seat of ,god2  
and this is a very awful sight4  ,now1  
having preached the ,gospel1 the        
,sea-farers strengthened their ship and 
launched into the deep after the third  
,eastertide1 and having comforted the   
people1 because they were grieved and   

mournful at their departure1 they left  
them in the keeping of the risen ,lord1 
and continued their seeking4   ,after   
this ,brother ,benedict1 the oldest monk
 of their company1 fell ill with        
grievous sickness1 and sorely the       
,sea-farers longed for some shore where 
he might feel the good earth solid and  
at rest beneath him1 and see the green  
of growing things1 and have the comfort 
of stillness and silence4  ,with        
astonishing patience he bore his malady1
 at no time repining1 and speaking never
 a word of complaint4  ,when he was     
asked if he repented him of the         
adventure1 he smiled gently4  ,fain1    
indeed1 he said1 would ,i be laid to    
rest beneath the grass of our own garth1
 where the dear brethren1 passing and   
repassing in the cloister1 might look   
where ,i lay and say an ',our ,father'  
for my soul4  ,yet in no way do ,i      
repent of our sailing1 for we have seen 
the marvellous works of ,god2 and if the
 ,lord vouchsafe to be merciful to me1  

it may be that ,i shall see the         
,heavenly ,paradise before you find the 
,earthly4  ,god grant it1 dear brother1 
said ,serapion4  ,on an afternoon they  
came to a small island walled about with
 high cliffs1 red and brown1 and at the 
foot of the cliffs a narrow beach of    
ruddy sand2 but on the rocks grew no    
green thing1 lichen or moss or grass or 
shrub1 and no sweet water came bickering
 down into the sea4  ,on landing they   
discovered a gully in the cliffs which  
led inland1 and straightway explorers   
were sent to spy what manner of land it 
was whereon they had fallen4  ,within   
the very mouth of the narrow pass they  
came upon a small ship hollowed out of a
 tree gigantic1 but it was rotten and   
dry as touchwood1 and wasting into dust4
  ,within the ship lay the bones of a   
man1 stretched out as though he had died
 in sleep4 ,outside the ship lay the    
bones of two others4  ,the faces of     
these were turned downward to the stones
 whereon they lay1 but the man in the   

ship had perished with his eyes fixed on
 the heavens4  ,the oars and sails and  
ropes were all dry and crumbling1 and   
the raiment of the men had mouldered    
away4  ,in the length of that narrow    
pass between the lofty cliff-walls the  
,sea-farers found no vestige of grass or
 weed1 either on the cliff-sides or on  
the stones and shingle4  ,neither was   
there any water1 save where in the      
hollows of some of the boulders rain had
 lodged and had not yet been drunk up by
 the sun4  ,no living creature1 great or
 small1 lived in that ghyll4  ,within   
the round of the sea-walls the island   
lay flat and low1 and it was one bleak  
waste of boulder and shingle1 lifeless  
and waterless save for the rain in the  
pitted surfaces of the stones2 but in   
the midst of the waste there stood1 dead
 and leafless1 a vast gaunt tree1 which 
at one time must have been a goodly     
show4  ,when the ,sea-farers reached it1
 they found lying on the dead turf about
 its roots the white bones of yet four  

other men4  ,much they questioned and   
conjectured whence these ill-starred    
wanderers had come to lay their bones on
 so uncharitable a soil1 and whether    
they had perished in seeking1 like      
themselves1 for the ,earthly ,paradise4 
,what1 sighed one1 if this were the     
,earthly ,paradise1 and yon the ,tree of
 ,life6  ,but the others murmured and   
would not have it so4  ,yet to the sick 
man even this ,isle of the ,stones of   
,emptiness was a place of rest and      
respite from the sea1--,it is still     
mother-earth1 he said1 though the mother
 be grown very old and there be no flesh
 left on her bones--and at first it     
seemed as though he was recovering in   
the motionless stillness and in the     
great shadow of the cliffs4 ,something  
of this ,serapion said to the little    
chorister1 but the lad answered3 ,nay1  
father1 do you not see how the man that 
used to look out of his eyes has become 
a very little child--and of such is the 
kingdom of heaven8  ,explain1 little    

brother1 said ,serapion4  ,why1 said the
 lad1 is it not thus with men when they 
grow so old or sick that they be like to
 die--does one not see that the real    
selves within them look out of window   
with faces grown younger and smaller and
 more joyous1 till it may be that what  
was once a strong man1 wise and great1  
is but a babbling babe which can scarce 
walk at all8  ,who told thee these      
things8 asked ,serapion4  ,no one has   
told me1 replied the lad1 but seeing the
 little children thus gazing out1 and   
knowing that all who would enter into   
heaven must become as they are1 ,i      
thought it must needs be in this manner 
that people change and pass away to ,god
 when the ending of life is come4  ,on  
this isle the ,sea-farers kept a        
,christmas1 and they made such cheer as 
they might at that blessed time1        
speaking of the stony fields wherein the
 ,shepherds lay about their flocks1 but 
no fields were ever so stony as these   
which were littered with stones         

fathom-deep1 with never a grain of earth
 or blade of grass between4  ,and in    
this isle it was that ,brother ,benedict
 died1 very peaceful1 and without pain  
at the close4  ,on the feast of the     
,three ,kings that poor monk was        
privileged even more than those ,kings  
had been1 for not only was the ,babe of 
,heaven made manifest to him1 but his   
soul1 a little child1 went forth from   
him to be with that benign ,babe for    
evermore4  ,under the dead tree the     
,sea-farers buried him1 and on the trunk
 of the tree they fastened a crucifix on
 the side on which he reposed4  ,the    
bones1 too1 of the dead men they        
gathered together and covered with      
stones in a hollow which they made4  ,so
 they left the island1 marvelling whence
 all those stones had come1 and how they
 had been rained many and deep on that  
one place4  ,said one1 ,it may be that  
these are the stones wherewith our ,lord
 and the prophets and the blessed       
martyrs were stoned1 laid up as in a    

treasury to bear witness on the day of  
doom4  ,it may be1 said another1 that   
these are the stones which ,satan1      
tempting the ,lord1 bade ,him turn into 
bread1 and therefore are they kept for  
an evidence against the tempter4        
,peradventure these be the stony places1
 said another1 whereon the good seed    
fell and perished in its first          
upspringing1 and so they be kept for the
 admonishment of rash ,sea-farers and   
such as have no long-continuance in     
well-doing4  ,but no man among them was 
satisfied as to the mystery of that     
strange isle4   ,on many other shores   
they set foot4  ,most were fruitful and 
friendly2 and they rested from their    
seeking1 and repaired the ship1 and took
 in such stores as they might gather    
during their sojourn4  ,though often it 
befell that while they were still afar  
the wind wafted them the fragrance of   
rare spices so that their eyes          
brightened and their faces reddened with
 joyful anticipation1 yet ever when they

 landed they found that not yet1 not yet
 had they reached the island garden of  
their quest4  ,men1 too1 of the same    
fashion as themselves they met with on  
shores far apart1 but strange were these
 of aspect and speech and manner of     
life4  ,with them they tarried as long  
as they might1 gaining some knowledge of
 their tongue1 and revealing to them the
 true ,god and the ,lord crucified4     
,in the latter time of their sea-faring 
they were blown far over the northern   
side of the great sea1 in such wise that
 the pilot star burned well-nigh        
overhead in the heavens4  ,here they    
descried tall islands of glittering     
rock1 white and blue1 crowned with      
minsters and castles and abbeys of      
glass1 but they heard no sound of bells 
or of men's voices or of the stir of    
life4  ,once as they were swept along in
 near peril of wreck1 through flying    
sea-smoke and plagues of hail1 they     
heard a strange unearthly music rising  
and falling in the blast4  ,some said it

 was ,angels sent to strengthen them2   
others said it was wild birds which they
 had seen flying past in flocks2 but    
,serapion said1 ,if it be ,angels1      
blessed be ,god2 if it be birds1 yet    
even they are ,god's ,angels1 lessoning 
us how we shall praise ,him1 and sing   
,him a new song from the ends of the    
earth4  ,then he raised his voice1      
singing the psalm        ,laudate       
,dominum de caelis1   ,praise ye the    
,lord from the heavens3 praise ,him in  
the heights1  and the ,sea-farers sang  
it with earnest voices and with hearts  
lifted up1 and they were greatly        
encouraged4   ,it was in these latitudes
 stormy and cold that1 to their         
thinking1 the ,sea-farers won nearest to
 the ,earthly ,paradise4  ,for1 far in  
the sides of the north as1 in the red   
sunlight1 they coasted a lofty land     
white with snow-fields and blue with    
glacier ice1 they entered a winding     
fjord1 and found themselves in glassy   
water slumbering between green slopes of

 summer4  ,down to the water's edge the 
shores were wooded with copses of dwarf 
birch and willow1 and the slopes were   
radiant with wild flowers--harebell and 
yellow crowfoot1 purple heath and pink  
azalea and starry saxifrage4  ,a rosy   
light tinged the snow on the wintry     
heights2 and over the edge of a cliff1  
far up the fjord1 a glacier hung1 and   
from beneath the ice a jet of water     
burst forth and fell foaming down the   
precipice to the shore4  ,when they     
landed they found the ground covered    
thick with berries dark and luscious1   
and while they gathered these1 a black  
and white snow-bunting flitted about    
them on its long wings4  ,a miraculous  
thing was this garden of summer in the  
icy bosom of winter1 but a greater      
marvel still was the undying sunshine on
 sea and shore4  ,in very truth1 said   
,serapion1 of all places we have yet    
seen is not this most like to have been 
the blessed land1 for is not even 'the  
night light about us1' and is it not    

with us as it is written of the         
,heavenly ,jerusalem1 'there shall be no
 night there'8  ,the ,sea-farers took   
away with them many of the leaves and   
flowers of this country1 and afterwards 
the scribes in the ,scriptorium copied  
them in beautiful colours in the ,golden
 ,missal of the ,abbey4   ,this was the 
last of the unknown shores visited by   
the ,sea-farers4 ,seven years had they  
pursued their seeking1 and there now    
grew on them so strong a craving for    
home that they could gainsay it no      
longer4 ,wherefore it fell out that in  
the autumn-tide1 when the stubble is    
brown in the fields and the apple red on
 the bough2 on the last day of the week1
 when toil comes to end2 in the last    
light of the day1 when the smoke curls  
up from the roof1 they won their long   
sea-way home4  ,illustration3 ,they won 
their long sea-way home  ,o beloved     
,abbey of the ,holy ,face1 through tears
 they beheld thy walls1 with rapture    
they kissed thy threshold6   ,in all the

 great sea of ocean1 said ,serapion1    
when he had told the story of their     
wandering1 no such ,earthly ,paradise   
have we seen as this dear ,abbey of our 
own6  ,dear brethren1 said the ,abbot1  
the seven years of your seeking have not
 been wasted if you have truly learned  
so much4  ,far from home have ,i never  
gone1 but many things have come to me4  
,to be ever1 and to be tranquilly1 and  
to be joyously1 and to be strenuously1  
and to be thankfully and humbly at one  
with the blessed will of ,god--that is  
the ,heavenly ,paradise2 and each of us1
 by ,god's grace1 may have that within  
him4  ,and whoso hath within him the    
,heavenly ,paradise1 hath here and now1 
and at all times and in every place1 the
 true ,earthly ,paradise round about    
him4  ,here ends the chapter of the     
,seven ,years of ,seeking4   ,but do    
,thou1 ,o ,lord1 have mercy upon us1    
chanted the ,lector1 as he closed the   
book4  ,and the ,prior struck the board1
 and the brethren arose and returned    

,god thanks for the creatures of food   
and drink1 and for that ,earthly        
,paradise1 ever at their door1 of       
tranquil and joyous and strenuous and   
thankful and humble acceptance of ,god's
 will4     ,the ,guardians of the ,door 
,there was once an orphan girl1 far away
 in a little village on the edge of the 
moors4  ,she lived in a hovel thatched  
with reeds1 and this was the poorest and
 the last of all the houses1 and stood  
quite by itself among broom and whins by
 the wayside4  ,from the doorway the    
girl could look across the wild         
stretches of the moorland2 and that was 
pleasant enough on a summer day1 for    
then the air is clear and golden1 and   
the moor is purple with the bloom of the
 ling1 and there are red and yellow     
patches of bracken1 and here and there a
 rowan tree grows among the big grey    
boulders with clusters of reddening     
berries4  ,but at night1 and especially 
on a winter night1 the darkness was so  
wide and so lonely that it was hard not 

to feel afraid sometimes4  ,the wind1   
when it blew in the dark1 was full of   
strange and mournful voices2 and when   
there was no wind1 ,mary could hear the 
cries and calls of the wild creatures on
 the moor4  ,mary was fourteen when she 
lost her father4  ,he was a rough idle  
good-for-nothing1 and one stormy night  
on his way home from the tavern he went 
astray and was found dead in the snow4  
,her mother had died when she was so    
small a child that ,mary could scarcely 
remember her face4  ,so it happened that
 she was left alone in the world1 and   
all she possessed was a dog1 some fowls1
 and her mother's spinning wheel4  ,but 
she was a bright1 cheerful1 courageous  
child1 and soon she got from the people 
of the village sufficient work to keep  
her wheel always busy1 for no one could 
look into her face without liking her4  
,people often wondered how so rude and  
worthless a fellow could have had such a
 child2 she was as sweet and unexpected 
as the white flowers on the bare and    

rugged branches of the blackthorn4  ,her
 hens laid well1 and she sold all the   
eggs she could spare2 and her dog1 which
 had been trained in all sorts of       
cunning by her father1 often brought her
 from the moors some wild thing in fur  
or feathers which ,mary thought there   
was no harm in cooking4  ,her father had
 been too idle and careless to teach her
 anything1 and all that she could       
recollect of her mother's instruction   
was a little rhyme which she used to    
repeat on her knees beside the bed every
 night before she went to sleep4  ,and  
this was the rhyme3    ,god bless this  
house from thatch to floor1   ,the      
twelve ,apostles guard the door1   ,and 
four good ,angels watch my bed1   ,two  
at the foot and two the head4           
,amen4  ,illustration3 ,and four good   
,angels watch my bed  ,though she was   
all alone in the world1 and had no girl 
of her own age to make friends with1 she
 was happy and contented1 for she was   
busy from morning till night4  ,and yet 

in spite of all this1 strange stories   
began to be whispered about the village4
  ,people who happened to pass by the   
old hut late at night declared that they
 had seen light shining through the     
chinks in the window-shutter when all   
honest people should have been asleep4  
,there were others who said they had    
noticed strange men standing in the     
shadows of the eaves2 they might have   
been highwaymen1 they might have been   
smugglers--they could not tell1 for no  
one had cared to run the risk of going  
too near--but it was quite certain that 
there were strange things going on at   
the hut1 and that the girl who seemed so
 simple and innocent was not quite so   
good as the neighbours had imagined4    
,when the village gossip had reached the
 ears of the white-headed old ,vicar1 he
 sent for the girl and questioned her   
closely4  ,mary was grieved to learn    
that such untrue and unkind stories were
 told about her4  ,she knew nothing1 she
 said1 of any lights or of any men4  ,as

 soon as it was too dusky to see to work
 she always fastened her door1 and after
 she had had her supper1 she covered the
 fire and blew out the rushlight and    
went to bed4  ,and you say your prayers1
 my daughter1 ,i hope8 said the ,vicar  
kindly4  ,mary hung down her head and   
answered in a low voice1 ,i do not know 
any proper prayers1 but ,i always say   
the words my mother taught me4  ,and    
,mary repeated the rhyme3    ,god bless 
this house from thatch to floor1   ,the 
twelve ,apostles guard the door1   ,and 
four good ,angels watch my bed1   ,two  
at the foot and two the head4           
,amen4   ,there could not be a better   
prayer1 dear child6 rejoined the ,vicar1
 with a smile4  ,go home now1 and do not
 be troubled by what idle tongues may   
say4  ,every night repeat your little   
prayer1 and ,god will take care of you4 
,late that night1 however1 the ,vicar   
lit his lantern and went out of doors1  
without a word to any one4  ,all the    
village was still and dark as he walked 

slowly up the road towards the moor4    
,she is a good girl1 he said to himself1
 but people may have observed something 
which has given rise to these stories4  
,i will go and see with my own eyes4    
,the stars were shining far away in the 
dark sky1 and the green plovers were    
crying mournfully on the dark moor4  ,as
 he passed along the lantern swung out a
 dim light across the road1 which had   
neither walls nor hedges4  ,it is a     
lonely place for a child to live in by  
herself1 he thought4  ,at last he       
perceived the outline of the old hovel1 
among the gorse and broom1 and the next 
moment he stopped suddenly1 for there1  
as he had been told1 a thread of bright 
light came streaming through the        
shutters of the small window4  ,he drew 
his lantern under his cloak1 and        
approached cautiously4  ,the road where 
he stood was now dim1 but by the faint  
glimmer of the stars he was able to make
 out that there were several persons    
standing under the eaves1 and apparently

 whispering together4  ,the ,vicar's    
good old heart was filled with surprise 
and sorrow4  ,then it suddenly grew hot 
with anger1 and throwing aside his cloak
 and lifting up the lantern he advanced 
boldly to confront the intruders4 ,but  
they were not at all alarmed1 and they  
did not make any attempt to escape him4 
,then1 as the light fell upon their     
forms and faces1 who but the ,vicar was 
struck with awe and amazement1 and stood
 gazing as still as a stone6  ,the      
people under the eaves were men of      
another age and another world1 strangely
 clothed in long garments1 and majestic 
in appearance4  ,one carried a lance1   
and another a pilgrim's staff1 and a    
third a battle-axe2 but the most        
imposing stood near the door of the hut1
 and in his hand he held two large keys4
  ,in an instant the ,vicar had guessed 
who they were1 and had uncovered his    
head and fallen on his knees2 but the   
strangers melted slowly away into the   
darkness1 as if they had been no more   

than the images of a dream4  ,and indeed
 the ,vicar might have thought that he  
really had been dreaming but for the    
light which continued to stream through 
the chink in the shutter4  ,he arose    
from his knees and moved towards the    
window to peep into the hut4  ,instantly
 an invisible hand stretched a naked    
sword across his path1 and a low deep   
voice spoke to him in solemn warning3   
,it is the light of ,angels4  ,do not   
look1 or blindness will fall upon you1  
even as it fell upon me on the ,damascus
 road4  ,but the aged ,vicar laid his   
hand on the sword1 and tried to move it 
away4  ,let me look1 let me look6 he    
said2 better one glimpse of the ,angels 
than a thousand years of earthly sight4 
,then the sword yielded to his touch and
 vanished into air1 and the old priest  
leaned forward on the window-sill and   
gazed through the chink4 ,and with a cry
 of joy he saw a corner of the rude bed1
 and beside the corner1 one above the   
other1 three great dazzling wings2 they 

were the left-hand side wings of one of 
the ,angels at the foot of the bed4     
,then all was deep darkness4  ,the      
,vicar thought that it was the blindness
 that had fallen upon him1 but the only 
regret he felt was that the vision had  
vanished so quickly4  ,then1 as he      
turned away1 he found that not only had 
he not lost his sight1 but that he could
 now see with a marvellous clearness4   
,he saw the road1 and even the          
foot-prints and grains of sand on the   
road2 the hut1 and the reeds on the hut2
 the moor1 and the boulders and the     
rowan-trees on the moor4  ,everything   
was as distinct as if it had been--not  
daylight1 but as if the air were of the 
clear colour of a nut-brown brook in    
summer4  ,praising ,god for all ,his    
goodness he returned home1 and as he    
went he looked back once and again and  
yet again1 and each time he saw the     
twelve awful figures in strange         
clothing1 guarding the lonely thatched  
hovel on the edge of the moor4  ,after  

this there were no more stories told of 
,mary1 and no one even dared speak to   
her of the wonderful manner in which her
 prayer was answered1 so that she never 
knew what the old ,vicar had seen4  ,but
 late at night people would rather go a 
great way round than take the road which
 passed by her poor hut4     ,on the    
,shores of ,longing  ,it was in the old 
forgotten days when all the western     
coast of ,spain was sprinkled with      
lonely hermitages among the rocks1 and  
with holy houses and towers of prayer2  
and this west coast was thought to be   
the last and outermost edge of all land1
 for beyond there lay nothing but the   
vast ocean stream and the sunset4       
,there1 in the west of the world1 on the
 brink of the sea and the lights of the 
day that is done1 lived the men of ,god1
 looking for ever towards the east for  
the coming of the ,lord4  ,even the dead
 were laid in the place of their        
resurrection with their feet pointing to
 the morning1 so that when they should  

arise their faces would be turned       
towards ,his coming4  ,thus it came to  
pass that the keen white wind out of the
 east was named the wind of the dead    
men's feet4  ,now in one or these holy  
houses lived the monk ,bresal of the    
,songs1 who had followed ,sedulius the  
,bishop into ,spain4  ,bresal had been  
sent thither to teach the brethren the  
music of the choirs of the ,isle of the 
,gael and to train the novices in chant 
and psalmody1 for of all singers the    
sweetest was he1 and he could play on   
every instrument of wind or string1 and 
was skilled in all the modes of         
minstrelsy4  ,thereto he knew by heart  
numberless hymns and songs and poems1   
and ,god had given him the gift to make 
songs and hymns1 and beautiful airs for 
the singing of them4  ,and for these    
things1 so sweet and gentle was the     
nature of the man1 he was greatly       
beloved whithersoever he fared4  ,a     
happy and holy life had he lived1 but   
now he was growing old2 and as he looked

 from the convent on the cliffs far over
 the western waters1 he thought daily   
more and more of ,erinn1 and a great    
longing grew upon him to see once more  
that green isle in which he had been    
born4  ,and when he saw1 far below1 the 
ships of the sea-farers dragging slowly 
away into the north in the breezy       
sunshine or in the blue twilight1 his   
eyes became dim with the thought that   
perchance these wind-reddened mariners  
might be steering for the shores of his 
longing4  ,the ,prior of the convent    
noticed his sadness and questioned him  
of the cause1 and when ,bresal told him1
 ,why should you go8 he asked4  ,do you 
not love us any longer8  ,dearly do ,i  
love you1 father1 replied ,bresal1 and  
dearly this house1 and every rock and   
tree and flower2 but no son of the ,isle
 of the ,gael forgets the little        
mother-lap of earth whereon he was      
nursed1 or the smell of the burning     
peat1 or the song of the robin1 or the  
drone of the big mottled wild bee1 or   

the cry of the wild geese when the      
winter is nigh4  ,even ,columba the holy
 pined for the lack of these things4    
,this is what he says in one of the     
songs which he has left us3    ,there's 
an eye of grey   ,looks back to ,erinn  
far away2   ,big tears wet that eye of  
grey   ,seeking ,erinn far away4  ,now  
the ,prior loved ,bresal as ,jonathan   
loved ,david2 and though it grieved him 
to part with him1 he resolved that if it
 could be compassed ,bresal should go   
back to his own country4  ,but you must 
never forget us1 and when you are happy1
 far away from us1 you must think of us 
and give us your heart in prayer4       
,never shall ,i forget you1 father1 the 
,singer replied4  ,indeed1 it will not  
be a strange thing if ,i shall long for 
you then even as ,i am longing for my   
home now2 for in truth1 next to my home1
 most do ,i love the brethren of this   
house1 and the very house itself1 and   
the hills and the sea and the dying     
lights of the evening4  ,but ,i know    

that it will not be permitted me ever to
 return4  ,the place of my birth will be
 the place of my resurrection4  ,the    
,prior smiled1 and laid his hand gently 
on the monk's shoulder3 ,o ,bresal1 if  
it be within my power you shall have    
your will4  ,so he sent messengers to   
,sedulius the ,bishop2 and ,sedulius1   
who also had the ,irish heart with its  
tears of longing1 consented2 and not    
many days after the swallows and martins
 had gone flashing by into the north1   
,bresal of the ,songs was free to follow
 as speedily as he might4  ,long was the
 way and weary the pilgrimage1 but at   
last he reached the beloved green ,isle 
of the ,gael1 and fared into the        
south-west--and this is the land in     
which it is told that ,patrick the      
,saint celebrated ,mass on every seventh
 ridge he passed over4  ,he came at     
sunset on the last day of the week to   
the place of bells and cells among the  
rocks of the coast of ,kerry4  ,in that 
blessed spot there is ever a service of 

,angels ascending and descending4  ,and 
when he saw once more the turf dyke and 
the wattled cells and the rude stone    
church of the brotherhood where he had  
been a son of reading in his boyhood1   
and the land all quiet with the labour  
of the week done1 and the woods red with
 the last light of the finished day1 the
 tears ran down his face1 and he fell on
 the earth and kissed it for joy at his 
return4  ,it was a glad thing for him to
 be there once more2 to recognise each  
spot he had loved1 to look on the old   
stones and trees1 the hills and         
sparkling sea1 the rocky isle and the   
curraghs of the fisher-folk2 to smell   
the reek of the peat curling up blue in 
the sweet air2 for all these things had 
haunted him in dreams when he was in a  
distant land4  ,now when the first      
hunger of longing had been appeased1 and
 the year wore round1 and the swallows  
gathered in the autumn1 and every bush  
and tree was crowded with them while    
they waited restlessly for a moonlight  

night and a fair wind to take their     
flight over sea1 ,bresal began to think 
tenderly of the home on the ,spanish    
cliffs overhanging the brink of the     
sunset4  ,then in the brown days of the 
autumn rains2 and again in the keen     
,november when the leaves were falling  
in sudden showers--but the highest      
leaves clung the longest--and puffs of  
whirling wind set the fallen leaves     
flying1 and these were full of sharp    
sounds and pattering voices2 and sixes  
of sparrows went flying with the leaves 
so that one could not well say which    
were leaves and which were birds2 and   
yet again through the bitter time when  
the eaves were hung with icicles and the
 peaks of the blue slieves were white   
with snow1 and the low hills and fields 
were hoary--the memory of the ,prior and
 of the beloved house prevailed with him
 and he felt the dull ache of           
separation4  ,illustration3 ,and again  
in the keen ,november  ,as the days     
passed by his trouble grew the greater1 

for he began to fear that his love of   
the creature was attaching him too      
closely to the earth and to the things  
of this fleeting life of our exile4  ,in
 vain he fasted and prayed and strove to
 subdue his affections2 the human heart 
within him would not suffer him to rest4
   ,now it happened on a day when the   
year had turned1 and a soft wind was    
tossing the little new leaves and the   
shadows of the leaves and the new grass 
and the shadows of the grass1 ,bresal   
was sitting on a rock in the sun on the 
hillside4  ,suddenly there flashed by   
him1 in a long swift joyous swing of    
flight1 two beautiful birds with long   
wings and forked tails and a sheen of   
red and green4  ,it was the swallows    
that had returned4  ,for a moment he    
felt an ascension of the heart1 and then
 he recollected that nearly a year had  
elapsed since he had seen the face of   
his friend the ,prior for the last time 
in this world4  ,and he wondered to     
himself how they all fared1 whether any 

one had died1 what this one or that was 
now doing1 whether they still spoke at  
times of him1 but chiefly he thought of 
the ,prior1 and he prayed for him with a
 great love4  ,and thinking thus as he  
sat on the rock1 ,bresal seemed to see  
once more the dear house in ,spain and  
the cliffs overlooking the vast ocean   
stream1 and it appeared to him as though
 he were once again in a favourite nook 
among the rocks beside the priory4  ,in 
that nook a thread of water trickled    
down into a hollow stone and made a     
little pool1 and around the pool grew an
 ice-plant with thick round green leaves
 set close and notched on the edge1 and 
a thin russet stalk1 and little stars of
 white flowers sprinkled with red4  ,and
 hard by the pool stood a small rounded 
evergreen tree from which he had often  
gathered the orange-scarlet berries4    
,at the sight of these simple and       
familiar things the tears ran down      
,bresal's cheeks1 half for joy and half 
for sorrow4   ,now at this selfsame     

moment the ,prior was taking the air and
 saying his office near that very spot1 
and when he had closed his breviary1 he 
remembered his friend in ,erinn far     
away1 and murmured1 ,how is it1 ,lord1  
with ,bresal my brother8  ,have him1 ,i 
pray ,thee1 ever in ,thy holy keeping4  
,as he spoke the gift of heavenly vision
 descended on the ,prior1 and he saw    
where ,bresal sat on a rock in the sun  
gazing at the evergreen tree and the    
ice-plant about the little pool1 and he 
perceived that ,bresal fancied he was   
looking at these things4  ,a great      
tenderness for ,bresal filled the       
,prior's heart1 and he prayed3 ,lord1 if
 it be ,thy holy will1 let ,bresal my   
brother have near him these things of   
which he is dreaming1 as a remembrance  
of what his soul loveth4  ,then1 turning
 to the tree and the plant and the pool1
 he blessed them and said3 ,o little    
tree and starry plant and cool well and 
transparent fern1 and whatsoever else   
,bresal now sees1 arise in the name of  

the ,lord of the four winds and of earth
 and water and fire1 arise and go and   
make real the dream that he is dreaming4
  ,as he spoke the trickling water and  
the tree and the saxifrage1 and with    
them parcels of soil and rock1 and with 
the pool the blue light of the sky      
reflected in it1 rose like a cloud and  
vanished1 and the ,prior beheld them no 
more4   ,at last ,bresal brushed away   
his tears1 blaming his weakness and his 
enslavement to earthly affections1 but  
the things he had seen in his happy     
day-dream did not vanish4  ,to his great
 amazement1 there at his feet were the  
little pool and the ice-plant1 and hard 
by grew the evergreen tree4  ,he rose   
with a cry of joy1 ,o ,father ,prior1   
'tis thy prayer hath done this6  ,and   
care was lifted from him1 for now he    
knew that in his human love he had in   
nowise sinned against the love of ,god1 
but contrariwise the love of his friend 
had drawn him closer to the love of his 
,maker4  ,during all the days of the    

years of his exile this little parcel of
 ,spain was a solace and a strength to  
him4   ,many a hundred years has gone by
 since this happened1 but still if you  
travel in that land you may see the     
ice-plant and the evergreen tree4 ,and  
the name of the evergreen is the        
,strawberry ,tree4  ,the ice-plant1     
which is also called a saxifrage1 may   
now be seen in many a garden to which it
 has been brought from the ,kerry       
mountains1 and it is known as ,london   
,pride4  ,botanists who do not know the 
story of ,bresal of the ,songs have been
 puzzled to explain how a ,spanish tree 
and a ,spanish flower happen to grow in 
one little nook of ,erinn4     ,the     
,children of ,spinalunga  ,the piazza or
 square in front of the ,cathedral was  
the only open space in which the        
children of ,spinalunga had room to     
play4  ,spinalunga means a ,long ,spine 
or ,ridge of rock1 and the castello or  
little walled town which bore that name 
was built on the highest peak of the    

ridge1 inside strong brown stone walls  
with square towers4  ,so rough and steep
 was this portion of the ridge that the 
crowded houses1 with their red roofs and
 white gables1 were piled up one behind 
another1 and many of the streets were   
narrow staircases1 climbing up between  
the houses to the blue sky4  ,on the top
 the hill was flat1 and there the       
,cathedral stood1 and from her niche    
above the great west entrance the       
beautiful statue of the ,madonna with   
the ,babe in her arms looked across the 
square1 and over the huddled red roofs1 
and far away out to the hills and       
valleys with their evergreen oaks and   
plantations of grey olives1 and bright  
cornfields and vineyards4  ,on three    
sides the town was sheltered by hills1  
but a very deep ravine separated them   
from the ridge1 so that on those three  
sides it was impossible for an enemy to 
attack the town4  ,on the nearest hills 
great pine woods grew far up the slopes1
 and sheltered it from the east winds   

which blew over the snowy peaks4  ,now  
on the southern side of the square stood
 the houses of the ,syndic and other    
wealthy citizens1 with open colonnades  
of carved yellow stone2 and all about   
the piazza at intervals there were      
orange-trees and pomegranates1 growing  
in huge jars of red earthenware4  ,this 
had been the children's playground as   
long as any one could remember1 but in  
the days of the blessed ,frate ,agnolo  
the ,syndic was a grim1 childless1      
irascible old man1 terribly plagued with
 gout1 which made him so choleric that  
he could not endure the joyous cries and
 clatter of the children at their play4 
,so at last in his irritation he gave   
orders that1 if the children must play  
at all1 it would have to be in their own
 dull narrow alleys paved with hard     
rock1 or outside beyond the walls of the
 castello4  ,for their part the         
youngsters would have been glad enough  
to escape into the green country among  
the broom and cypress1 the red          

snapdragon and golden asters and blue   
pimpernels1 but these were wild and     
dangerous times1 and at any moment a    
troop of ,free-lances from ,pisa or a   
band of ,lucchese raiders might have    
swept down and carried them off into    
captivity4  ,they had therefore to sit  
about their own doors1 and the piazza of
 the ,cathedral became strangely silent 
in the summer evenings1 and there was a 
feeling of dulness and discontent in the
 little town4  ,never a whit better off 
was the ,syndic1 for he was now angry   
with the stillness and the deserted look
 of the square4  ,in the midst of this  
trouble the blessed ,brother ,agnolo    
came down from his hermitage among the  
pine woods1 and when he heard of what   
had taken place1 he went straightway to 
the ,syndic and took him to task1 with  
soft and gracious words4  ,messer       
,gianni1 pain ,i know will often take   
all sweetness out of the temper of a    
man1 but in this you are not doing well4
  ,there is no child in ,spinalunga but 

would readily forego all his happy play 
to give you ease and solace1 but in this
 way they cannot help you4  ,by sending 
them away you do but cloud their        
innocent lives1 and you are yourself    
none the better for their absence4      
,were it not wiser for you to seek to   
distract yourself in their harmless     
merry-making8  ,i may well think that   
you have never watched them at their    
sports2 but if you will bid them come   
back to-day1 and will but walk a little 
way with me1 you shall see that which   
shall give you content and delight so   
great1 that never again will you wish to
 banish them1 but will rather pray to   
have their companionship at all times4  
,now the ,frate so prevailed on the     
,syndic that he gave consent1 and bade  
all the children1 lass and lad1 babe and
 prattler1 come to the square for their 
games as they used to do4  ,and leaning 
with one hand on his staff1 and with the
 other on the shoulder of ,brother      
,agnolo1 he moved slowly through the    

fruit-trees in the great jars to the    
steps of the ,cathedral4  ,suddenly the 
joy-bells began to ring1 and the little 
people came laughing and singing and    
shouting from the steep streets and     
staircases and alleys1 and they raced   
and danced into the piazza like         
,springtime let loose1 and they chased  
each other1 and caught hands and played 
in rings1 and swarmed among the jars1 as
 many and noisy as swallows when they   
gather for their flight over sea in the 
autumn-tide4  ,look well1 ,messer       
,gianni1 said the ,frate1 and perceive  
who it is that shares their frolics4    
,as the ,brother spoke the eyes of the  
,syndic were opened2 and there1 with    
each little child1 was his ,angel1      
clothed in white1 and white-winged2 and 
as the little folk contended together1  
their ,angels contended with each other2
 and as they ran and danced and sang1 so
 ran and danced and sang their ,angels4 
,which was the laughter of the children1
 and which that of the ,angels1 the     

,syndic could not tell2 and when the    
plump two-year-olds tottered and        
tumbled1 their ,angels caught them and  
saved them from hurt2 and even if they  
did weep and make a great outcry1 it was
 because they were frightened1 not      
because they were injured1 and          
straightway they had forgotten what     
ailed them and were again merrily       
trudging about4  ,in the midst of this  
wonderful vision of young ,angels and   
bright-eyed children mingling so        
riotously together1 the ,syndic heard an
 inexpressibly joyous laugh behind him4 
,turning his head1 he saw that it was   
the little marble ,babe in the arms of  
the ,madonna4  ,he was clapping his     
hands1 and had thrown back his head     
against his mother's bosom in sudden    
delight4  ,did the ,syndic truly see    
this8  ,he was certain he did--for a    
moment2 and yet in that same moment he  
knew that the divine ,babe was once more
 a babe of stone1 with its sweet grave  
face and unconscious eyes2 and when the 

,syndic turned again to watch the       
children1 it was only the children he   
saw2 the ,angels were no longer visible4
  ,it is not always given to our sinful 
eyes to see them1 said ,brother ,agnolo1
 answering the ,syndic's thought1 but   
whether we see them or see them not1    
always they are there4   ,now it was in 
the autumn of the same year that the    
fierce captain of ,free-lances1 the     
,condottiere ,ghino1 appeared one       
moonlight night before the gates of     
,spinalunga1 and bade the guard open in 
the name of ,pisa4  ,as ,i have said1   
the little hill-town could only be      
attacked on the western side1 on account
 of the precipitous ravine which divided
 it from the hills2 but the ridge before
 the gate was crowded with eight hundred
 horsemen and two thousand men-at-arms  
clamouring to be admitted4  ,nothing    
daunted1 the garrison on the square     
towers cried back a defiance2 the       
war-bell was sounded2 and the           
townspeople1 men and women1 hurried down

 to defend the walls4  ,after the first 
flight of arrows and quarrels the       
,free-lances fell back out of bowshot1  
and encamped for the night1 but the     
hill-men remained on the watch till     
daybreak4  ,early in the morning ,ghino 
himself rode up the ascent with a white 
flag1 and asked for a parley with the   
,syndic4  ,we are from ,pisa1 said the  
,condottiere2 ,florence is against us2  
this castello we must hold for our      
safety4  ,if with your good-will1 well  
and good6  ,we are bound by our loyalty 
to ,florence1 replied the ,syndic       
briefly4  ,the sword cuts all bonds1    
said the ,free-lance1 with a laugh2 but 
we would gladly avoid strife4  ,throw in
 your lot with us4  ,all we ask is a    
pledge that in the hour of need you will
 not join ,florence against us4  ,what  
pledge do you ask8 inquired the ,syndic4
  ,let twenty of your children ride back
 with us to ,pisa1 said the ,free-lance4
  ,these shall answer for your fidelity4
  ,they shall be cherished and well     

cared for during their sojourn4  ,who   
but ,messer ,gianni was the angry man on
 hearing this8  ,our children6 he cried2
 are we1 then1 slaves1 that we must     
needs send you our little ones as       
hostages8  ,guards1 here6  ,shoot me    
down this brigand who bids me surrender 
your children to him6  ,bolts flew      
whizzing from the cross-bows2 the       
,free-lance shook his iron gauntlet at  
the ,syndic1 and galloped down the ridge
 unharmed4  ,the ,syndic forgot his gout
 in his wrath1 and bade the hill-men    
hold their own till their roofs crumbled
 about their ears4  ,then began a close 
siege of the castello2 but on the fourth
 day ,frate ,agnolo passed boldly       
through the lines of the enemy1 and was 
admitted through the massive stone      
gateway which was too narrow for the    
entrance of either cart or waggon4      
,great was the joy of the hill-men as   
the ,brother appeared among them4  ,he1 
they knew1 would give them wise counsel 
and stout aid in the moment of danger4  

,when they told him of the pledge for   
which the besiegers asked1 he only      
smiled and shook his head4  ,be of good 
cheer1 he said1 ,god and ,his ,angels   
have us in their keeping4  ,thoughtfully
 he ascended the steep streets to the   
piazza1 and1 entering the ,cathedral1 he
 remained there for a long while        
absorbed in prayer4 ,and as he prayed   
his face brightened with the look of one
 who hears joyful news1 and when he rose
 from his knees he went to the house of 
the ,syndic1 and spoke with him long and
 seriously4   ,at sunset that day a     
man-at-arms went forth from the gates of
 the castello with a white flag to the  
beleaguering lines1 and demanded to be  
taken into the presence of the captain4 
,to him he delivered this message from  
the ,syndic3 ,to-morrow in the morning  
the gate of ,spinalunga will be thrown  
open1 and all the children of our town  
who are not halt or blind or ailing     
shall be sent forth4  ,come and choose  
the twenty you would have as hostages4  

,by the camp-fires that night the       
,free-lances caroused loud and long2 but
 in the little hill-town the children   
slept sound while the men and women     
prayed with pale stern faces4  ,an hour 
after midnight all the garrison from the
 towers and all the strong young men    
assembled in the square4  ,they were    
divided into two bands1 and were        
instructed to descend cautiously by     
rope-ladders into the ravine on the     
eastern side of the town4  ,thence      
without sound of tongue or foot they    
were to steal through the darkness till 
they had reached certain positions on   
the flanks of the besiegers1 where they 
were to wait for the signal of onset4   
,frate ,agnolo gave each of them his    
blessing1 as one by one they slid over  
the wall on to the rope-ladders and     
disappeared in the blackness of the     
ravine4  ,noiselessly they marched under
 the walls of the town till they reached
 their appointed posts1 and there they  
lay hidden in the woods till morning4   

,the ,free-lances were early astir4  ,as
 the first ray of golden light streamed 
over the pine woods on to the ridge and 
the valley1 the bells of the ,cathedral 
began to ring2 the heavy gate of the    
castello was flung open1 and the        
children trooped out laughing and gay1  
just as they had burst into the square a
 few months ago1 for this1 they were    
told1 was to be a great feast and       
holiday4  ,as they issued through the   
deep stone archway they filed to right  
or left1 and drew up in long lines      
across the width of the ridge4  ,then   
raising their childish voices in a      
simple hymn1 they all moved together    
down the rough slope to the lines of the
 besiegers4  ,brother ,agnolo1 holding a
 plain wooden cross high above his head1
 led the way1 singing joyously4  ,it was
 a wonderful sight in the clear shining 
air of the hills1 and hundreds of women 
weeping silently on the walls crowded   
together to watch it2 and as they       
watched they held their breath1 for     

suddenly in the golden light of the     
morning they saw that behind each child 
there was a great white-winged ,angel   
with a fiery spear4  ,then1 as that     
throng of singing children and shining  
spirits swept down upon the             
,free-lances1 a wild cry of panic arose 
from the camp4  ,the eight hundred      
horsemen turned in dismay1 and plunged  
through the ranks of the men-at-arms1   
and the mercenaries fell back in terror 
and confusion1 striking each other down 
and trampling the wounded underfoot in  
their frantic efforts to escape4  ,at   
that moment the hill-men who were lying 
in ambush on each flank bore down on the
 bewildered multitude1 and hacked and   
hewed right and left till the boldest   
and hardiest of the horsemen broke and  
fled1 leaving their dead and dying on   
the field4  ,illustration3 ,the eight   
hundred horsemen turned in dismay  ,so  
the little hill-town of ,spinalunga was 
saved by the children and their ,angels1
 and even to this day the piazza of the 

,cathedral is their very own playground1
 in which no one can prevent them from  
playing all the year round4     ,the    
,sin of the ,prince ,bishop  ,the       
,prince ,bishop ,evrard stood gazing at 
his marvellous ,cathedral2 and as he let
 his eyes wander in delight over the    
three deep sculptured portals and the   
double gallery above them1 and the great
 rose window1 and the ringers' gallery1 
and so up to the massive western towers1
 he felt as though his heart were       
clapping hands for joy within him4  ,and
 he thought to himself1 ,surely in all  
the world ,god has no more beautiful    
house than this which ,i have built with
 such long labour and at so princely an 
outlay of my treasure4  ,and thus the   
,prince ,bishop fell into the sin of    
vainglory1 and1 though he was a holy    
man1 he did not perceive that he had    
fallen1 so filled with gladness was he  
at the sight of his completed work4     
,illustration3 ,surely in all the world 
,god has no more beautiful house than   

this  ,in the double gallery of the west
 front there were many great statues    
with crowns and sceptres1 but a niche   
over the central portal was empty1 and  
this the ,prince ,bishop intended to    
fill with a statue of himself4  ,it was 
to be a very small simple statue1 as    
became one who prized lowliness of      
heart1 but as he looked up at the vacant
 place it gave him pleasure to think    
that hundreds of years after he was dead
 people would pause before his effigy   
and praise him and his work4  ,and this1
 too1 was vainglory4  ,as the ,prince   
,bishop lay asleep that night a mighty  
six-winged ,angel stood beside him and  
bade him rise4  ,come1 he said1 and ,i  
will show thee some of those who have   
worked with thee in building the great  
church1 and whose service in ,god's eyes
 has been more worthy than thine4  ,and 
the ,angel led him past the ,cathedral  
and down the steep street of the ancient
 city1 and though it was midday1 the    
people going to and fro did not seem to 

see them4  ,beyond the gates they       
followed the shelving road till they    
came to green level fields1 and there in
 the middle of the road1 between grassy 
banks covered white with cherry blossom1
 two great white oxen1 yoked to a huge  
block of stone1 stood resting before    
they began the toilsome ascent4  ,look6 
said the ,angel2 and the ,prince ,bishop
 saw a little blue-winged bird which    
perched on the stout yoke beam fastened 
to the horns of the oxen1 and sang such 
a heavenly song of rest and contentment 
that the big shaggy creatures ceased to 
blow stormily through their nostrils1   
and drew long tranquil breaths instead4 
,look again6 said the ,angel4  ,and from
 a hut of wattles and clay a little     
peasant girl came with a bundle of hay  
in her arms1 and gave first one of the  
oxen and then the other a wisp4  ,then  
she stroked their black muzzles1 and    
laid her rosy face against their white  
cheeks4 ,then the ,prince ,bishop saw   
the rude teamster rise from his rest on 

the bank and cry to his cattle1 and the 
oxen strained against the beam and the  
thick ropes tightened1 and the huge     
block of stone was once more set in     
motion4  ,and when the ,prince ,bishop  
saw that it was these fellow-workers    
whose service was more worthy in ,god's 
eyes than his own1 he was abashed and   
sorrowful for his sin1 and the tears of 
his own weeping awoke him4  ,so he sent 
for the master of the sculptors and bade
 him fill the little niche over the     
middle portal1 not with his own effigy  
but with an image of the child2 and he  
bade him make two colossal figures of   
the white oxen2 and to the great        
wonderment of the people these were set 
up high in the tower so that men could  
see them against the blue sky4  ,and as 
for me1 he said1 let my body be buried1 
with my face downward1 outside the great
 church1 in front of the middle         
entrance1 that men may trample on my    
vainglory and that ,i may serve them as 
a stepping-stone to the house of ,god2  

and the little child shall look on me   
when ,i lie in the dust4  ,now the      
little girl in the niche was carved with
 wisps of hay in her hands1 but the     
child who had fed the oxen knew nothing 
of this1 and as she grew up she forgot  
her childish service1 so that when she  
had grown to womanhood and chanced to   
see this statue over the portal she did 
not know it was her own self in stone4  
,but what she had done was not forgotten
 in heaven4  ,and as for the oxen1 one  
of them looked east and one looked west 
across the wide fruitful country about  
the foot of the hill-city4  ,and one    
caught the first grey gleam1 and the    
first rosy flush1 and the first golden  
splendour of the sunrise2 and the other 
was lit with the colour of the sunset   
long after the lowlands had faded away  
in the blue mist of the twilight4       
,weary men and worn women looking up at 
them felt that a gladness and a glory   
and a deep peace had fallen on the life 
of toil4 ,and then1 when people began to

 understand1 they said it was well that 
these mighty labourers1 who had helped  
to build the house1 should still find a 
place of service and honour in the      
house2 and they remembered that the     
,master of the house had once been a    
,babe warmed in a manger by the breath  
of kine4  ,and at the thought of this   
men grew more pitiful to their cattle1  
and to the beasts in servitude1 and to  
all dumb animals4  ,and that was one    
good fruit which sprang from the ,prince
 ,bishop's repentance4  ,now over the   
colossal stone oxen hung the bells of   
the ,cathedral4  ,on ,christmas ,eve the
 ringers1 according to the old custom1  
ascended to their gallery to ring in the
 birth of the ,babe ,divine4  ,at the   
moment of midnight the master ringer    
gave the word1 and the great bells began
 to swing in joyful sequence4  ,down    
below in the crowded church lay the     
image of the new-born ,child on the cold
 straw1 and at ,his haloed head stood   
the images of the ox and the ass4  ,far 

out across the snow-roofed city1 far    
away over the white glistening country  
rang the glad music of the tower4       
,people who went to their doors to      
listen cried in astonishment3 ,hark6    
what strange music is that8  ,it sounds 
as if the lowing of cattle were mingled 
with the chimes of the bells4  ,in truth
 it was so4  ,and in every byre the oxen
 and the kine answered the strange sweet
 cadences with their lowing1 and the    
great stone oxen lowed back to their kin
 of the meadow through the deep notes of
 the joy-peal4  ,in the fulness of time 
the ,prince ,bishop ,evrard died and was
 buried as he had willed1 with his face 
humbly turned to the earth2 and to this 
day the weather-wasted figure of the    
little girl looks down on him from her  
niche1 and the slab over his grave      
serves as a stepping-stone to pious     
feet4     ,the ,little ,bedesman of     
,christ  ,this is the legend of         
,francis1 the ,little ,bedesman of      
,christ4  ,seven hundred years ago was  

he born in ,assisi1 the quaint ,umbrian 
town among the rocks2 and for twenty    
years and more he cherished but one     
thought1 and one desire1 and one hope2  
and these were that he might lead the   
beautiful and holy and sorrowful life   
which our ,lord lived on the earth1 and 
that in every way he might resemble our 
,lord in the purity and loveliness of   
,his humanity4  ,home and wealth and    
honour he surrendered1 and the love of a
 wife and of little prattlers on his    
knees2 for none of these things were the
 portion of ,christ4  ,no care he took  
as to how he should be sheltered by     
night or wherewith he should be clothed 
by day2 and for meat and drink he looked
 to the hand of ,god1 for these were to 
be the daily gift of ,his giving4  ,so  
that when he heard the words of the     
sacred ,gospel read in the little church
 of ,st4 ,mary of the ,angels--,provide 
neither gold nor silver nor brass in    
your purses1 nor scrip for your journey1
 neither two coats1 neither shoes1 nor  

yet staves--he went out and girt his    
coarse brown dress with a piece of cord1
 and cast away his shoes and went       
barefoot thenceforth4  ,even to this day
 the brethren of the great ,order of    
religious men which he founded are thus 
clothed1 and girt with a cord1 and shod 
with nakedness4  ,and this ,order is the
 ,order of the ,lesser ,brethren1 the   
,fratres ,minores2 and often they are   
called ,franciscans1 or the ,friars of  
,st4 ,francis4  ,but as to the thought  
he bestowed on his eating and drinking3 
once when he and ,brother ,masseo sat   
down on a broad stone near a fresh      
fountain to eat the bread which they had
 begged in the town1 ,st4 ,francis      
rejoiced in their prosperity1 saying1   
,not only are we filled with plenty1 but
 our treasure is of ,god's own          
providing2 for consider this bread which
 has come to us like manna1 and this    
noble table of stone fit for the        
feasting of kings1 and this well of     
bright water which is beverage from     

heaven2 and he besought ,god to fill    
their hearts with an ardent love of the 
affluence of holy poverty4              
,illustration3 ,st4 ,francis of ,assisi 
,even the quiet and blessed peace of the
 cloister and the hermitage he denied   
himself2 for he remembered that though  
the ,lord ,christ withdrew into the     
hills and went into the wilderness to   
refresh ,his soul with prayer and       
communion with ,his ,heavenly ,father1  
it was among the sons of men that ,he   
had ,his dwelling all ,his days4  ,so   
he1 too1 the ,little ,bedesman1 often   
tasted great happiness among the rocks  
and trees of solitary places2 and his   
spirit felt the spell of the lonely     
hills2 and he loved to pray in the      
woods1 and in their shadow he was       
consoled by the visits of ,angels1 and  
was lifted bodily from the earth in     
ecstasies of joy4  ,but the work which  
he had set his hands to do was among    
men1 and in villages and the busy       
streets of cities4   ,it was not in the 

first place to save their own souls and 
to attain to holiness that he and his   
companions abandoned the common way of  
life4 ,long afterwards1 when thousands  
of men had joined his ,order of the     
,lesser ,brethren1 he said3 ,god has    
gathered us into this holy ,order for   
the salvation of the world1 and between 
us and the world ,he has made this      
compact1 that we shall give the world a 
good example1 and the world shall make  
provision for our necessities4  ,yet1   
though he preached repentance and sorrow
 for sin1 never was it his wish that men
 and women who had other duties should  
abandon those duties and their calling  
to follow his example4  ,besides the    
,order of the ,lesser ,brethren1 he had 
founded an ,order of holy women who     
should pray and praise while the men    
went forth to teach2 but well he knew   
that all could not do as these had done1
 that the work of the world must be     
carried on1 the fields ploughed and     
reaped1 and the vines dressed1 and the  

nets cast and drawn1 and ships manned at
 sea1 and markets filled1 and children  
reared1 and aged people nourished1 and  
the dead laid in their graves2 and when 
people were deeply moved by his         
preaching and would fain have followed  
him1 he would say3 ,nay1 be in no unwise
 haste to leave your homes2 there1 too1 
you may serve ,god and be devout and    
holy2 and1 promising them a rule of     
life1 he founded the ,third ,order1 into
 which1 whatever their age or calling1  
all who desired to be true followers of 
,christ ,jesus might be admitted4  ,even
 among those who gave themselves up     
wholly to the life spiritual he         
discouraged excessive austerity1        
forbidding them to fast excessively or  
to wear shirts of mail and bands of iron
 on their flesh1 for these not only     
injured their health and lessened their 
usefulness1 but hindered them in prayer 
and meditation and delight in the love  
of ,god4  ,once1 too1 when it was       
revealed to him that a brother lay      

sleepless because of his weakness and   
the pinch of hunger1 ,st4 ,francis rose1
 and1 taking some bread with him1 went  
to the brother's cell1 and begged of him
 that they might eat that frugal fare   
together4  ,god gave us these bodies of 
ours1 not that we might torture them    
unwisely1 but that we might use their   
strength and comeliness in ,his service4
  ,so1 with little heed to his own      
comfort1 but full of consideration and  
gentleness for the weakness of others1  
he and his companions with him went     
about1 preaching and praising ,god2     
cheering and helping the reapers and    
vintagers in the harvest time1 and      
working with the field-folk in the      
earlier season2 supping and praying with
 them afterwards2 sleeping1 when day    
failed1 in barns or church porches or   
leper-hospitals1 or may be in an old    
,etruscan tomb or in the shelter of a   
jutting rock1 if no better chance       
befell2 till at last they came to be    
known and beloved in every village and  

feudal castle and walled town among the 
hills between ,rome and ,florence4  ,at 
first1 indeed1 they were mocked and     
derided and rudely treated1 but in a    
little while it was seen that they were 
no self-seekers crazed with vanity1 but 
messengers of heaven1 and pure and      
great-hearted champions of ,christ and  
,his poor4   ,in those days of luxury   
and rapacity and of wild passions and   
ruthless bloodshed1 it was strange to   
see these men stripping themselves of   
wealth and power--for many of the       
brethren had been rich and noble--and   
proclaiming the ,gospel of the love and 
gentleness and purity and poverty of    
,christ4  ,for not only were the        
brethren under vow to possess nothing   
whatever in the world1 and not only were
 they forbidden to touch money on any   
account1 but the ,order itself was bound
 to poverty4 ,it could not own great    
estates or noble abbeys and convents1   
but was as much dependent on charity and
 ,god's providing as the humblest of its

 friars4  ,was it a wonderful thing that
 a great affection grew up in the hearts
 of the people for these preachers of   
the ,cross1 and especially for the most 
sweet and tender of them all1 the       
,little ,bedesman of ,christ1 with the  
delicate and kindly face worn by        
fasting1 the black eyes1 and the soft   
and sonorous voice8  ,greatly the common
 people loved our ,lord1 and gladly they
 listened to ,him2 and of all men who   
have lived ,st4 ,francis was most like  
our ,lord in the grace and virtue of    
,his humanity4  ,i do not think that    
ever at any time did he say or do       
anything till he had first asked        
himself1 ,what would my ,lord have done 
or said8  ,and certain it seems to me   
that he must have thought of the ,thief 
in ,paradise and of the divine words    
,christ spoke to him on the cross1 when 
,brother ,angelo1 the guardian of a     
hermitage among the mountains1 told him 
how three notorious robbers had come    
begging2 but ,i1 said the ,brother1     

quickly drove them away with harsh and  
bitter words4  ,then sorely hast thou   
sinned against charity1 replied the     
,saint in a stern voice1 and ill hast   
thou obeyed the holy ,gospel of ,christ1
 who wins back sinners by gentleness1   
and not by cruel reproofs4  ,go now1 and
 take with thee this wallet of bread and
 this little flask of wine which ,i have
 begged1 and get thee over hill and     
valley till thou hast found these men2  
and when thou comest up with them1 give 
them the bread and the wine as my gift  
to them1 and beg pardon on thy knees for
 thy fault1 and tell them that ,i       
beseech them no longer to do wrong1 but 
to fear and love ,god2 and if this they 
will do1 ,i will provide for them so    
that all their days they shall not lack 
food and drink4  ,then ,brother ,angelo 
did as he was bidden1 and the robbers   
returned with him and became ,god's     
bedesmen and died in ,his service4      
,not to men alone but to all living     
things on earth and air and water was   

,st4 ,francis most gracious and loving4 
,they were all his little brothers and  
sisters1 and he forgot them not1 still  
less scorned or slighted them1 but spoke
 to them often and blessed them1 and in 
return they showed him great love and   
sought to be of his fellowship4  ,he    
bade his companions keep plots of ground
 for their little sisters the flowers1  
and to these lovely and speechless      
creatures he spoke1 with no great fear  
that they would not understand his      
words4  ,and all this was a marvellous  
thing in a cruel time1 when human life  
was accounted of slight worth by fierce 
barons and ruffling marauders4  ,for the
 bees he set honey and wine in the      
winter1 lest they should feel the nip of
 the cold too keenly2 and bread for the 
birds1 that they all1 but especially my 
brother ,lark1 should have joy of       
,christmastide1 and at ,rieti a brood of
 redbreasts were the guests of the house
 and raided the tables while the        
brethren were at meals2 and when a youth

 gave ,st4 ,francis the turtle-doves he 
had snared1 the ,saint had nests made   
for them1 and there they laid their eggs
 and hatched them1 and fed from the     
hands of the brethren4  ,out of         
affection a fisherman once gave him a   
great tench1 but he put it back into the
 clear water of the lake1 bidding it    
love ,god2 and the fish played about the
 boat till ,st4 ,francis blessed it and 
bade it go4  ,why dost thou torment my  
little brothers the ,lambs1 he asked of 
a shepherd1 carrying them bound thus and
 hanging from a staff1 so that they cry 
piteously8  ,and in exchange for the    
lambs he gave the shepherd his cloak4   
,and at another time seeing amid a flock
 of goats one white lamb feeding1 he was
 concerned that he had nothing but his  
brown robe to offer for it 7for it      
reminded him of our ,lord among the     
,pharisees72 but a merchant came up and 
paid for it and gave it him1 and he took
 it with him to the city and preached   
about it so that the hearts of those    

hearing him were melted4  ,afterwards   
the lamb was left in the care of a      
convent of holy women1 and to the       
,saint's great delight1 these wove him a
 gown of the lamb's innocent wool4      
,fain would ,i tell of the coneys that  
took refuge in the folds of his habit1  
and of the swifts which flew screaming  
in their glee while he was preaching2   
but now it is time to speak of the      
sermon which he preached to a great     
multitude of birds in a field by the    
roadside1 when he was on his way to     
,bevagno4  ,down from the trees flew the
 birds to hear him1 and they nestled in 
the grassy bosom of the field1 and      
listened till he had done4  ,and these  
were the words he spoke to them3        
,little birds1 little sisters mine1 much
 are you holden to ,god your ,creator2  
and at all times and in every place you 
ought to praise ,him4 ,freedom he has   
given you to fly everywhere2 and raiment
 ,he has given you1 double and          
threefold4  ,more than this1 ,he        

preserved your kind in the ,ark1 so that
 your race might not come to an end4    
,still more do you owe him for the      
element of air1 which he has made your  
portion4  ,over and above1 you sow not1 
neither do you reap2 but ,god feeds you1
 and gives you streams and springs for  
your thirst2 the mountains ,he gives    
you1 and the valleys for your refuge1   
and the tall trees wherein to build your
 nests4  ,and because you cannot sew or 
spin1 ,god takes thought to clothe you1 
you and your little ones4  ,it must be1 
then1 that your ,creator loves you much1
 since ,he has granted you so many      
benefits4  ,be on your guard then       
against the sin of ingratitude1 and     
strive always to give ,god praise4  ,and
 when the ,saint ceased speaking1 the   
birds made such signs as they might1 by 
spreading their wings and opening their 
beaks1 to show their love and pleasure2 
and when he had blessed them with the   
sign of the cross1 they sprang up1 and  
singing songs of unspeakable sweetness1 

away they streamed in a great cross to  
the four quarters of heaven4  ,one more 
story ,i must tell of the ,saint and the
 wild creatures4  ,on a time when ,st4  
,francis was dwelling in the town of    
,agobio1 there appeared in that         
countryside a monstrous grey wolf1 which
 was so savage a man-eater that the     
people were afraid to go abroad1 even   
when well armed4  ,a pity it was to see 
folk in such fear and danger2 wherefore 
the ,saint1 putting his whole trust in  
,god1 went out with his companions so   
far as they dared go1 and thence onward 
all alone to the place where the wolf   
lay4  ,the wild beast rushed out at him 
from his lair with open mouth1 but ,st4 
,francis waited and made over him the   
sign of the most holy cross1 and called 
him to him1 saying1 ,come hither1       
,brother ,wolf6  ,in the name of ,christ
 ,i bid you do no harm1 neither to me   
nor to any one4  ,and when the wolf     
closed his jaws and stopped running1 and
 came at the ,saint's bidding1 as gentle

 as a lamb1 and lay down at his feet1   
,st4 ,francis rebuked him for the       
slaying of ,god's creatures1 the beasts1
 and even men made in ,god's image4     
,but fain would ,i make peace1 he said1 
between you and these townsfolk2 so that
 if you pledge them your faith that you 
will do no more scathe either to man or 
beast1 they will forgive you all your   
offences in the past1 and neither men   
nor dogs shall harry you any more4  ,and
 ,i will look to it that you shall      
always have food as long as you abide   
with the folk of this countryside4      
,whereupon ,brother ,wolf1 by movements 
of body and tail and bowing of head1    
gave token of his good will to abide by 
that bargain4  ,and in sign that he     
plighted his troth to it he gave the    
,saint his paw1 and followed to the     
market-place of ,agobio1 where ,st4     
,francis repeated all that he had said1 
and the people agreed to the bargain1   
and once more the wolf gave pledge of   
his faith by putting his paw in the     

,saint's hand4  ,for two years          
thereafter ,brother ,wolf dwelt in      
,agobio1 going tame and gentle from     
house to house and in and out at will1  
doing hurt to none1 but much loved of   
the children and cared for in food and  
drink and kindness by the townsfolk1 so 
that no one lifted stone or stick       
against him1 neither did any dog bark at
 him4  ,at the end of those years he    
died of old age1 and the people were    
grieved that no more should they see his
 gentle coming and going4  ,such was the
 courtesy and sweet fellowship of ,st4  
,francis with the wild creatures4   ,it 
remains yet to say of him that he was   
ever gay and joyous as became ,god's    
gleeman4  ,greatly he loved the song of 
bird and man1 and all melody and        
minstrelsy4  ,nor was it ill-pleasing to
 ,god that he should rejoice in these   
good gifts1 for once lying in his cell  
faint with fever1 to him came the       
thought that the sound of music might   
ease his pain2 but when the friar whom  

he asked to play for him was afraid of  
causing a scandal by his playing1 ,st4  
,francis1 left alone1 heard such music  
that his suffering ceased and his fever 
left him4  ,and as he lay listening he  
was aware that the sound kept coming and
 going2 and how could it have been      
otherwise8 for it was the lute-playing  
of an ,angel1 far away1 walking in      
,paradise4  ,sweet new songs he made in 
the language of the common people1 folk 
of field and mountain1 muleteers and    
vine-dressers1 woodmen and hunters1 so  
that they in turn might be light of     
heart amid their toil and sorrow4  ,one 
great hymn he composed1 and of that ,i  
will speak later2 but indeed all his    
sayings and sermons were a sort of      
divine song1 and when he sent his       
companions from one village to another  
he bade them say3 ,we are ,god's        
gleemen4  ,for song and sermon we ask   
largesse1 and our largesse shall be that
 you persevere in sorrow for your sins4 
,seeing that ladies of the world1 great 

and beautiful1 took pleasure in the     
songs of the troubadours sung at        
twilight under their windows1 he charged
 all the churches of his ,order that at 
fall of day the bells should be rung to 
recall the greeting with which ,gabriel 
the ,angel saluted the ,virgin ,mother  
of the ,lord3 ,hail1 full of grace1 the 
,lord is with thee1 blessed art thou    
among women4  ,and from that day to this
 the bells have rung out the ,angelus at
 sunset1 and now there is no land under 
heaven wherein those bells are not heard
 and wherein devout men hearing them do 
not pause to repeat that greeting       
angelic4  ,in like fashion it was great 
delight to him 7the ,pope having given  
him leave7 to make in the churches of   
the ,order a representation of the ,crib
 of ,bethlehem on the feast of the      
,nativity4  ,of these the first was made
 at the hermitage of ,greccio4  ,thither
 the peasants flocked on ,christmas     
,eve1 with lanterns and torches1 making 
the forest ring with their carols2 and  

there in the church they found a stable 
with straw1 and an ox and an ass        
tethered to the manger2 and ,st4        
,francis spoke to the folk about        
,bethlehem and the ,shepherds in the    
field1 and the birth of the divine      
,babe1 so that all who heard him wept   
happy tears of compassion and           
thankfulness4  ,and as ,st4 ,francis    
stood sighing for joy and gazing at the 
empty manger1 behold6 a wondrous thing  
happened4  ,for the knight ,giovanni1   
who had given the ox and the ass and the
 stable1 saw that on the straw in the   
manger there lay a beautiful child1     
which awoke from slumber1 as it seemed1 
and stretched out its little hands to   
,st4 ,francis as he leaned over it4     
,even to this day there is no land in   
which you may not see1 on ,christmas    
,eve1 the ,crib of ,bethlehem2 but in   
those old days of ,st4 ,francis many    
souls were saved by the sight of that   
lowly manger from the sin of those      
heretics who denied that the ,word was  

made flesh and that the ,son of ,god was
 born as a little child for our         
salvation4  ,the joy and gaiety of ,st4 
,francis were of two kinds4  ,there was 
the joy of love1 and there was the joy  
of suffering for love4  ,and of this    
last he spoke a wonderful rhapsody as he
 journeyed once with ,brother ,leo1 in  
the grievous cold of the early spring1  
from ,perugia to ,st4 ,mary of the      
,angels4  ,for1 as ,brother ,leo was    
walking on before1 ,st4 ,francis called 
aloud to him3--  ,o ,brother ,leo1      
although throughout the world the       
,lesser ,brethren were mirrors of       
holiness and edification1 nevertheless  
write it down1 and give good heed to it1
 that not therein is perfect joy4  ,and 
again1 a little further on1 he called   
aloud3  ,o ,brother ,leo1 though the    
,lesser ,brother should give the blind  
sight1 and make the misshapen straight1 
and cast out devils1 and give hearing to
 the deaf1 and make the lame to walk and
 the dumb to speak2 yea1 should he even 

raise the four days' dead to life1 write
 it down that not herein is perfect joy4
  ,and yet a little further on he cried 
out3  ,o ,brother ,leo1 if the ,lesser  
,brother should know all languages1 and 
every science1 and all the ,scriptures1 
so that he could foretell not solely the
 hidden things of the future but also   
the secrets of the heart1 write down    
that not therein is perfect joy4  ,a    
little further yet1 and once again he   
cried aloud3  ,o ,brother ,leo1 ,god's  
little sheep1 though the ,lesser        
,brother were to speak with the tongue  
of the ,angels1 and know the courses of 
the stars and the virtues of herbs1 and 
though the treasures of the earth were  
discovered to him1 and he had craft and 
knowledge of birds and fishes and of all
 living creatures1 and of men1 and of   
trees and stones1 and roots and waters1 
write it down that not therein is       
perfect joy4  ,and once more1 having    
gone a little further1 ,st4 ,francis    
called aloud3  ,o ,brother ,leo1 even   

though the ,lesser ,brother could by his
 preaching convert all the unbelievers  
to the faith of ,christ1 write down that
 not therein is perfect joy4  ,and when1
 after ,st4 ,francis had spoken in this 
manner for the space of two miles1      
,brother ,leo besought him to reveal    
wherein might perfect joy be found1 ,st4
 ,francis answered him3  ,when we are   
come1 drenched with rain and benumbed   
with cold and bespattered with mud and  
aching with hunger1 to ,st4 ,mary of the
 ,angels1 and knock at the door1 and the
 porter asks wrathfully1 ',who are you8'
 and on our answering1 ',two of your    
brethren are we1' ',two gangrel rogues1'
 says he1 'who go about cheating the    
world and sorning the alms of the poor2 
away with you6' and whips the door to1  
leaving us till nightfall1 cold and     
famished1 in the snow and rain2 if with 
patience we bear this injury and        
harshness and rejection1 nowise ruined  
in our mind and making no murmur of     
complaint1 but considering within       

ourselves1 humbly and in charity1 that  
the porter knows well who we are1 and   
that ,god sets him up to speak against  
us--,o ,brother ,leo1 write down that   
therein is perfect joy4  ,and perfect   
joy1 he added1 if1 knocking a second    
time1 they brought the porter out upon  
them1 fuming1 and bidding them betake   
themselves to the alms-house1 for knaves
 and thieves1 and nevertheless they bore
 all with patience and with gladness and
 love4  ,and yet again1 he continued1 if
 a third time they knocked and shouted  
to him1 for pity of their hunger and    
cold and the misery of the night1 to let
 them in1 and he came1 fierce with rage1
 crying1 ,ah1 bold and sturdy vagabonds1
 now ,i will pay you1 and caught them by
 the hood1 and hurled them into the     
snow1 and belaboured them with a knotty 
cudgel2 and if still1 in despite of all 
pain and contumely1 they endured with   
gladness1 thinking of the pains of the  
blessed ,lord ,christ1 which for love of
 ,him they too should be willing to     

bear--then might it be truly written    
down that therein was perfect joy4      
,this was the perfect joy of the ,saint 
most like to ,christ of all the ,saints 
that the world has seen4  ,and of all   
joys this was the most perfect1 seeing  
that it was by the patient way of tears 
and tribulation1 of bodily pain and     
anguish of spirit1 of humiliation and   
rejection1 that a man might come most   
nearly to a likeness of ,christ4        
,through all his gaiety and gladness and
 benignity he carried in his heart one  
sorrow1 and that was the memory of the  
,passion of our ,lord4 ,once he was     
found weeping in the country1 and when  
he was asked whether he was in grievous 
pain that he wept1 ,ah6 he replied1 it  
is for the ,passion of my ,lord ,jesus  
that ,i weep2 and for that ,i should    
think little shame to go weeping through
 the whole world4  ,two years before his
 death there befell him that miraculous 
transfiguration1 which1 so far as it may
 be with a sinful son of ,adam1 made    

perfect the resemblance between him and 
the ,saviour crucified4 ,and it was     
after this manner4  ,in the upper valley
 of the ,arno stream there towers above 
the pines and giant beeches of the hills
 a great basalt rock1 ,alvernia1 which  
looks over ,italy1 east and west1 to the
 two seas4  ,that rock is accessible by 
but a single foot-track1 and it is      
gashed and riven by grim chasms1 yet    
withal great oaks and beech-trees       
flourish atop among the boulders1 and   
there are drifts of fragrant wild       
flowers1 and legions of birds and other 
wild creatures dwell there2 and the     
lights and colours of heaven play about 
the rock1 and the winds of heaven visit 
it with wholesome air4  ,now a great and
 wealthy gentleman of ,tuscany1 ,orlando
 of ,chiusi1 gave ,st4 ,francis that    
mountain for a hermitage where he could 
be remote from men1 and thither1 with   
three of the brethren most dear to him1 
the ,saint went to spend the forty days 
of the ,fast of ,st4 ,michael the       

,archangel4  ,two nights they slept on  
the way1 but on the third day1 so worn  
was ,st4 ,francis with fatigue and      
illness1 that his companions were fain  
to beg a poor peasant to lend them his  
ass4  ,as they proceeded on their       
journey the peasant1 walking behind the 
ass1 said to ,st4 ,francis1 ,tell me    
now1 art thou ,brother ,francis of      
,assisi8 and when ,st4 ,francis said he 
was1 the peasant rejoined1 ,look to it1 
then1 that thou strive to be as good as 
folk take thee to be1 so that those who 
have faith in thee be not disappointed  
in what they expect to find in thee4    
,and instantly ,st4 ,francis got down   
from the ass1 and1 kneeling on the      
ground1 kissed the peasant's feet1 and  
thanked him for his brotherly           
admonition4  ,so onward they journeyed  
up the mountain till they came to the   
foot of ,alvernia1 and there as ,st4    
,francis rested him under an oak1 vast  
flights of birds came fluttering and    
blithely singing1 and alighted on his   

shoulders and arms1 and on his lap1 and 
about his feet4  ,not ill-pleased is our
 ,lord1 ,i think1 said he1 that we have 
come to dwell on this mountain1 seeing  
what glee our little brothers and       
sisters the ,birds show at our coming4  
,under a fair beech on the top of the   
rock the brethren built him a cell of   
branches1 and he lived alone in prayer1 
apart from the others1 for the          
foreknowledge of his death had          
overshadowed him4  ,once as he stood by 
the cell1 scanning the shape of the     
mountain and musing on the clefts and   
chasms in the huge rocks1 it was borne  
in upon him that the mountain had been  
thus torn and cloven in the ,ninth ,hour
 when our ,lord cried with a loud voice1
 and the rocks were rent4  ,and beside  
this beech-tree ,st4 ,francis was many  
times uplifted into the air in rapture1 
and many times ,angels came to him1 and 
walked with him for his consolation4  ,a
 while later1 the brethren laid a tree  
across a chasm1 and ,st4 ,francis hid   

himself in a more lonely place1 where no
 one might hear him when he cried out2  
and a falcon1 which had its nest hard by
 his cell1 woke him for matins1 and     
according as he was more weary or sickly
 at one time than another1 that         
feathered brother1 having compassion on 
him1 woke him later or sooner1 and all  
the long day was at hand to give him    
companionship4  ,here in this wild      
place1 in ,september1 on ,holy ,cross   
,day1 early in the morning1 before the  
dawn whitened1 ,st4 ,francis knelt with 
his face turned to the dark east2 and   
praying long and with great fervour1 he 
besought the ,lord ,christ ,jesus for   
two graces before he died4  ,and the    
first was this1 that1 so far as mortal  
flesh might bear it1 he might feel in   
his body the torture which our ,lord    
suffered in ,his ,passion2 and the      
second1 that he might feel in his heart 
the exceeding great love for which ,he  
was willing to bear such torture4  ,now 
even while he was praying in this wise a

 mighty six-winged ,seraph1 burning with
 light unspeakable1 came flying towards 
him2 and ,st4 ,francis saw that the     
,seraph bore within himself the figure  
of a cross1 and thereon the image of a  
man crucified4  ,two of the six wings of
 the ,seraph were lifted up over the    
head of the crucified2 and two were     
spread for flying2 and two veiled the   
whole of the body on the cross4  ,then  
as the ,seraph drew nigh1 the eyes of   
,christ the crucified looked into the   
eyes of ,st4 ,francis1 piercing and     
sweet and terrible2 and ,st4 ,francis   
could scarce endure the rapture and the 
agony with which that look consumed him1
 and transfigured him1 and burned into  
his body the similitude of ,christ's    
,passion4  ,for straightway his hands   
and his feet were pierced through and   
through with nails2 and the heads of the
 nails were round and black1 and the    
points were bent backward and riveted on
 the further side of hand and foot2 and 
his right side was opened with the deep 

thrust of the spear2 and the gash was   
red and blood came dropping from it4    
,terrible to bear was the ache of those 
wounds2 and for the nails in his feet   
,st4 ,francis scarce could stand and    
could not walk at all4  ,such was the   
transfiguration of the ,little ,bedesman
 of ,christ into ,his visible semblance 
on the holy rock ,alvernia4  ,for two   
years he sustained the ecstasy and      
anguish of that likeness1 but of his    
sayings and of the wonders he wrought in
 that time ,i will not speak4  ,in those
 days he composed the ,song of the ,sun1
 and oftentimes sang it1 and in many a  
village and market-place was it sung by 
the brethren going two by two in their  
labour for souls4  ,a mighty hymn of    
praise to the ,lord ,god most high and  
omnipotent was this ,song of the ,sun2  
for in this manner it was that ,st4     
,francis sang3   ,praised be ,thou1 my  
,lord2 by all ,thy creatures praised2   
and chiefly praised by ,brother ,sun who
 gives us light of day4  ,through him   

,thou shinest2 fair is he1 brilliant    
with glittering fire2 and he through    
heaven bears1 ,most ,high1 symbol and   
sense of thee4  ,praised by ,sister     
,moon be ,thou2 and praised by all the  
,stars4  ,these hast ,thou made1 and    
,thou hast made them precious and       
beautiful and bright4  ,praised by      
,brother ,wind be ,thou2 by ,air1 and   
,cloud that lives in air1 and all the   
,weathers of the world1 whereby their   
keep ,thou dost provide for all the     
creatures ,thou hast made4  ,praised by 
,sister ,water1 ,lord1 be ,thou2 the    
lowly water1 precious1 pure1 the        
gracious handmaiden4  ,praised by       
,brother ,fire1 by whom ,thou makest    
light for us i' the dark2 and fair is he
 and jocund1 sturdy and strong4         
,praised by our ,sister ,mother-,earth1 
which keeps us and sustains1 and gives  
forth plenteous fruit1 and grass1 and   
coloured flowers4  ,praised be ,thou1   
,lord my ,god1 by those who for ,thy    
love forgive1 and for ,thy love endure2 

blessed in their patience they2 by ,thee
 shall they be crowned4   ,as he drew   
nigh to his end at ,st4 ,mary of the    
,angels1 he cried out1 ,welcome1 ,sister
 ,death6 and when his brethren1 as he   
had bidden them1 sang once more the     
,song of the ,sun1 he added another     
verse3  ,praised by our ,sister ,death  
be ,thou--that bodily death which no man
 may escape4  ,alas for those who die in
 mortal sin1 but happy they conforming  
to ,thy will2 for these the second death
 shall nowise hurt4   ,in the tenth     
month1 on the fourth day of the month1  
in the forty-and-fifth year of his age1 
having recited the ,psalm1 ,i cried unto
 ,thee1 ,o ,lord1 and said3 ,thou art my
 hope and my portion in the land of the 
living1 ,st4 ,francis died very         
joyfully4  ,at the fall of the night he 
died1 and while still the brethren were 
gazing upon his face there dropped down 
on the thatch of the cell in which he   
lay larks innumerable1 and most sweetly 
they sang1 as though they rejoiced at   

the release of their holy kinsman4  ,he 
was buried at the great church at       
,assisi2 but though it is thought he    
lies beneath the high altar1 the spot is
 unknown to any man1 and the hill-folk  
say that ,st4 ,francis is not dead at   
all1 but that he lives hidden in a      
secret crypt far down below the roots of
 wall and pillar4 ,standing there1 pale 
and upright1 with the blood red in the  
five wounds of his crucifixion1 he waits
 in a heavenly trance for the sound of  
the last trumpet1 when the nations of   
the earth shall see in the clouds ,him  
whom they have pierced4  ,long after his
 death it was the custom of the brethren
 of a certain house of his ,order to go 
chanting in procession at midnight once 
in the year to his resting-place4  ,but 
the way was long and dark2 the weather  
often bleak and stormy4  ,little by     
little devotion cooled1 and the friars  
fell away1 till there remained but one  
old monk willing to go on this          
pilgrimage4  ,as he went into the dark  

and the storm1 the road among the woods 
and rocks grew luminous1 and in place of
 the cross and torches and canticles of 
the former days1 great flocks of birds  
escorted him on his way1 singing and    
keeping him company4  ,the little       
feathered brothers and sisters had not  
abated in their love of the ,little     
,bedesman who had caressed and blessed  
them4     ,the ,burning of ,abbot       
,spiridion  ,many wonderful things are  
told of the ,abbot ,spiridion1 who lived
 a hundred years and four and yet grew  
never old2 neither was the brightness of
 his eyes dimmed nor his hair silvered1 
nor was his frame bowed and palsied with
 the weakness of age4  ,during the long 
years in which he ruled the abbey he had
 founded1 he seemed to live less in this
 world than in the communion of the     
blessed souls of men redeemed4  ,the    
whole earth was as clear to him as      
though it had been of crystal1 and when 
he raised his eyes he saw not solely    
what other men saw1 but the vision of   

all that is under the heavens4 ,and this
 vision of life was at once his trial   
and his consolation4  ,for it was an    
unspeakable sorrow and anguish to see on
 all sides the sin and suffering and    
misery of creation1 and often he wept   
bitterly when no one dared ask him the  
reason of his affliction4  ,yet         
oftentimes1 on the other hand1 he       
laughed for lightness of spirit1 and    
bade the brethren rejoice because of the
 salvation of some reprobate soul1 or   
the relief of one oppressed1 or the     
bestowal of some blessing on the        
servants of ,god4  ,when it happened    
that a brother had been sent on a       
journey and was long absent1 and the    
community was talking of him1 wondering 
how he had fared and where he might now 
be1 the ,abbot would sometimes break    
silence and say3 ,i see our brother     
resting in such or such a cell1 or ,our 
brother is even now singing a psalm as  
he drifts in his small boat of skins    
down this or that river1 or1 perchance1 

,our brother is coming over the hill and
 in an hour he will be with us4  ,in the
 abbey there was a certain lay-brother1 
dull and slow of wit1 with a hindrance  
in his speech2 and one of the monks     
despised him and scoffed at his defect  
of nature4  ,this lay-brother had the   
care of the garden of pot-herbs and     
fruit-trees1 and as he was toiling there
 one day the ,abbot called the          
uncharitable monk to him1 and said3     
,come1 let us see what our brother the  
,fool is doing4  ,the monk trembled when
 he heard those words1 for he knew that 
his scornfulness had been discovered1   
and he followed the ,abbot in great     
confusion4  ,in the garden they found   
the lay-brother planting cabbages4  ,is 
our brother the ,fool alone8 asked the  
,abbot4  ,our brother is alone1 father1 
replied the monk4  ,then the ,abbot     
touched the monk's eyes1 and straightway
 he saw that the lay-brother was not    
alone3 beside him were two radiant      
child-angels1 one of whom held for him a

 basket containing the young plants1 and
 the second walked to and fro playing on
 a lute to lighten his labour4 ,then1   
overwhelmed with shame1 the monk fell on
 his knees1 confessing his sin and      
promising amendment4  ,more strange than
 this is the story ,i have now to tell4 
,it happened through mischance that fire
 broke out in the abbey1 and the flames 
were spreading so fiercely from one     
wattled cell to another that there was  
great danger of the whole monastery     
being destroyed4  ,with piteous cries   
the religious surrounded the ,abbot1 and
 besought him to intercede with ,god    
that their home might be spared4        
,spiridion gently shook his head4  ,the 
mercy of ,god1 he replied1 has given it 
to another to intercede for us in our   
danger this day4  ,the holy ,pontiff1   
,gregory1 has looked out of ,rome and   
seen us in our trouble4  ,at this moment
 he is kneeling in prayer for us1 and   
his supplication on our behalf will     
avail4  ,even while ,spiridion was      

speaking1 the ,pope1 far away in the    
,golden ,city1 beheld the flames rising 
from the abbey1 and called his household
 to join him in entreating heaven2 and  
at once it was seen that the flames were
 being beaten to the ground and         
extinguished as though invisible hands  
were beating them down with invisible   
branches of trees4  ,now when the       
brethren were made aware that the whole 
earth was being constantly shown thus in
 vision to the ,abbot1 they stood in sad
 dread of him2 even the most pure and   
lowly-hearted were abashed at this      
thought that perchance every act and    
every vain fancy of theirs was laid bare
 to his knowledge4  ,so it came to pass 
that out of shame and fear their hearts 
were little by little estranged from    
him4  ,the ,abbot was not slow to       
perceive the change1 and he spoke of it 
when they met in chapter4  ,truly it is 
a grievous and a terrible thing1 he     
said1 that any man should see with the  
eyes of the soul more than it is given  

the eye of flesh to see2 and ,i pray    
you1 brethren1 beseech the ,lord1 if it 
be ,his will1 that the vision be        
withdrawn from me4  ,but if ,his will it
 be not1 beseech ,him that ,i may not   
sin through seeing4  ,so much for       
myself1 but as for you1 dear children1  
why are you grieved8  ,because it may be
 that ,i see you when you think no man  
sees you8  ,am ,i then the only one who 
sees you8  ,is there not at least one   
other--even the high ,god1 from whom the
 hidden man of the heart is nowise      
hidden8  ,if you fear ,his holy eyes1   
little need you fear the eyes of any    
sinful man4  ,such a one was the ,abbot 
,spiridion4  ,his spirit passed from    
among men in the hundred and fifth year 
of his exile1 in the third month of the 
year1 on the morning of the resurrection
 of the ,lord ,christ1 between the white
 and the red of the morning1 when the   
brethren were singing prime4  ,as he    
listened to them singing1 his cheeks    
suddenly became flushed with bright     

colour1 and those who were about him1   
thinking he was in pain1 asked if in any
 way they might relieve him2 but he     
replied in a low voice1 ,when the heart 
is glad the face flowers4  ,in a little 
after that he laughed softly to himself1
 and so they knew that his end was      
gladness4  ,when he died there were     
three hundred religious in that         
monastery1 and in his stead ,samson was 
made ,abbot of ,gracedieu4   ,the body  
of ,spiridion was laid in a stone coffin
 hard by the abbey church1 and to those 
who had known the holy man it seemed    
nothing strange that the sick and       
afflicted should come and kneel by his  
grave1 in the hope that by his          
intercession they might obtain succour  
in their misery4  ,certain it is that   
the blind were restored to sight1 and   
the sick to health1 and the painful to  
great ease2 and the fame of these       
miracles was noised abroad in the world 
till thousands came in pilgrimage to the
 spot1 and costly gifts--gold and silver

 and jewels1 sheep and cattle1 wine and 
corn1 and even charters of large        
demesnes1 fruitful fields and woods and 
waters--were bestowed as thank-offerings
 to the saintly man4  ,then over his    
tomb rose a vast and beautiful minster1 
and the tomb itself was covered with a  
shrine1 brilliant with blue and         
vermilion and gold and sculptured       
flowers1 and guarded by angels with     
outspreading wings4  ,at the beginning  
,abbot ,samson was well pleased1 for the
 great church rose like a dream of      
heaven1 but when he perceived that the  
constant concourse of people was        
destroying the hushed contemplation and 
piety of the house1 and that the        
brethren were distracted with eagerness 
for gain and luxury and the pride of    
life1 he resolved to make an end4       
,wherefore after ,high ,mass on the     
,feast of ,all ,saints he bade the      
religious walk in procession to the     
splendid shrine1 and there the ,abbot1  
with the shepherd's staff of rule in his

 hand1 struck thrice on the stone       
coffin1 and three times he called aloud3
 ,spiridion6 ,spiridion6  ,spiridion6   
and begged him1 as he had been founder  
and first father of that monastery1 to  
listen to the grievance which had       
befallen them in consequence of the     
miracles he had wrought from his grave4 
,and after an indignant recital of their
 loss of humility1 of their             
lukewarmness1 of their desire for       
excitement and the pageants of the      
world1 of their lust for buildings of   
stone and pillared walks and plentiful  
living1 he concluded3 ,make1 then1 we   
beseech thee1 no sign from thy          
sepulchre4  ,let life and death1 and joy
 and sorrow1 and blindness and disease1 
and all the vicissitudes of this world  
follow their natural courses4  ,do not  
thou1 out of compassion for thy         
fellow-man1 interpose in the lawful     
succession of things4  ,this is what we 
ask of thee1 expecting it of thy love4  
,but if it be that thou deny us1        

solemnly we declare unto thee1 by the   
obedience which once we owed thee1 we   
shall unearth thy bones and cast them   
forth from amongst us4  ,now whether it 
was that for some high purpose ,god     
delayed the answer to that prayer1 or   
whether it was the folly and            
superstition of men which gave to things
 natural the likeness of the miraculous1
 and even peradventure the folk lied out
 of a mistaken zeal for the glory of the
 saints1 there was no abatement of the  
wonders wrought at ,spiridion's tomb2   
and when the ,abbot would have forbidden
 access to the vast crowds of pilgrims1 
the people resisted with angry violence 
and threatened fire and bloodshed4  ,so 
,samson summoned the wisest and holiest 
of the brotherhood1 and took them into  
counsel4  ,this thing1 said he1 cannot  
be of ,god1 that one of ,his saints1 the
 founder of this house1 should lead into
 sloth and luxury the children of the   
house he has founded4  ,sooner could ,i 
believe that this is a malignant snare  

of the most ,evil ,one1 who heals the   
bodily ailments of a few that he may    
wreck the immortal souls of many4  ,then
 arose ,dom ,walaric1 the most aged of  
the monks1 and said3 ,already1 ,father  
,abbot1 hast thou spoken judgment4      
,grievously shall ,i lament what must be
 done2 but in one way only can we root  
out this corruption4 ,let the bones of  
the holy man be unearthed and cast      
forth4  ,he in the high heavens will    
know that we do not use him             
despitefully1 but that of two evils     
this1 indeed1 is scarcely to be spoken  
of as an evil4  ,wherefore1 in a grassy 
bay of the land by the river a great    
pile of faggots was reared1 dry and     
quick for the touch of flame4  ,and the 
,abbot broke down the shrine and opened 
the tomb4  ,when the stone lid of the   
coffin had been lifted1 the religious   
saw that1 though it had been long       
buried1 the body showed no sign of      
decay4 ,fresh and uncorrupted it lay in 
the sacred vestments2 youthful and      

comely of face1 despite a marvellous old
 age and years of sepulture4  ,with many
 tears they raised what seemed rather a 
sleeping man than a dead1 and bore him  
to the river2 and when they had heaped  
the faggots about him1 the ,abbot       
blessed the body and the fuel1 and with 
his own hand set fire to the funeral    
pile4  ,the brethren restrained not     
their weeping and lamentation as they   
witnessed that hallowed burning2 and the
 ,abbot1 with heavy eyes1 tarried till  
the last ember had died out4  ,then were
 all the ashes of the fire swept        
together and cast into the fleeting     
river1 which bore them through lands    
remote into the utmost sea that hath no 
outland limit save the blue sky and the 
low light of the shifting stars4        
,the ,countess ,itha  ,in the days of   
,king ,coeur-de-,lion the good ,count   
,hartmann ruled in ,kirchberg in the    
happy ,swabian land4  ,and never had    
that fair land been happier than it was 
in those days1 for the ,count was a     

devout ,christian1 a lover of peace in  
the midst of warlike and rapacious      
barons1 and a ruler just and merciful to
 his vassals4  ,among the green and     
pleasant hills on his domain he had     
founded a monastery for the monks of    
,st4 ,benedict1 and thither he often    
rode with his daughter ,itha1 the       
delight of his heart and the light of   
the grim old castle of the ,kirchberg2  
so that1 seeing the piety of her father1
 she grew up in the love and fear of    
,god1 and from her gentle mother she    
learned to feel a deep compassion for   
the poor and afflicted4  ,no sweeter    
maid than she1 with her blue eyes and   
light brown hair1 was there in all that 
land of sturdy men and nut-brown        
maidens4  ,the people loved the very    
earth she stood on4  ,in their days of  
trouble and sorrow she was their morning
 and their evening star1 and they never 
wearied of praising her goodness and her
 beauty4  ,when ,itha was in the bloom  
of her girlhood it befell that the young

 ,count ,heinrich of the ,toggenburg1   
journeying homeward from the famous     
tournament at ,cologne1 heard of this   
peerless flower of ,swabia1 and turned  
aside to the ,castle of ,kirchberg to   
see if perchance he might win a good and
 lovely wife4  ,he was made welcome1 and
 no sooner had he looked on ,itha's fair
 and loving face1 and marked with what  
modesty and courtesy she bore herself1  
than he heard joy-bells ringing in his  
heart1 and said1 ,now1 by the blessed   
cross1 here is the pearl of price for   
me6  ,promptly he wooed her with tender 
words1 and with eyes that spoke more    
than tongue could find words for1 and   
passionate observance1 and all that     
renders a man pleasing to a maid4  ,and 
,itha was not loth to be won1 for the   
,count was young and handsome1 tall and 
strong1 and famous for feats of arms1   
and a mighty lord--master of the rich   
straths and valleys of the ,thur ,river1
 and of many a burgh and district in the
 mountains beyond2 and yet1 despite all 

this1 he1 so noble and beautiful1 loved 
her1 even her1 the little ,swabian maid 
who had never deemed herself likely to  
come to such honour and happiness4  ,nor
 were the kindly father and mother      
ill-pleased that so goodly a man and so 
mighty a lord should have their dear    
child4  ,so in a little while the ,count
 put on ,itha's hand the ring of        
betrothal1 and ,itha1 smiling and       
blushing1 raised it to her lips and     
kissed it4  ,blissful ring6 said the    
,count jestingly2 and yet1 dearest      
heart1 you do well to cherish it1 for it
 is an enchanted ring1 an old ring of   
which there are many strange stories4   
,even while he was speaking ,itha's     
heart misgave her1 and she was aware of 
a feeling of doubt and foreboding2 but  
she looked at the ring and saw how      
massive was the gold and how curiously  
wrought and set with rare gems1 and its 
brilliancy and beauty beguiled her of   
her foreboding1 and she asked no        
questions of the stories told of it or  

of the nature of its enchantment4       
,quickly on the betrothal followed the  
marriage and the leave-taking4 ,with    
tears in her eyes ,itha rode away with  
her lord1 looking back often to the old 
castle and gazing farewell on the       
pleasant land and the fields and        
villages she should not see again for1  
it might be1 many long years4  ,but by  
her side rode the ,count1 ever gay and  
tender1 and he comforted her in her     
sadness1 and lightened the way with     
loving converse1 till she put from her  
all her regret and longing1 and made    
herself happy in their love4            
,illustration3 ,itha rode away with her 
lord  ,so they journeyed through the    
rocks and wildwood of the ,schwartzwald1
 and came in view of the blue waters of 
the lake of ,constance glittering in the
 sun1 and saw the vast mountain region  
beyond with its pine forests1 and above 
the forests the long blue mists on the  
high pastures1 and far over all1 hanging
 like silvery summer clouds in the blue 

heavens1 the shining peaks of the snowy 
,alps4  ,and here1 at last1 they were   
winding down the fruitful valley of the 
,thur1 and yonder1 perched on a rugged  
bluff1 rose the stern walls of ,castle  
,toggenburg1 with banners flying from   
the turrets1 and the rocky roadway      
strewn with flowers1 and vassals and    
retainers crowding to welcome home the  
bride4   ,now1 for all his tenderness   
and gaiety and sweetness in wooing1 the 
,count ,heinrich was a hasty and fiery  
man1 quickly stirred to anger and blind 
rage1 and in his storms of passion he   
was violent and cruel4  ,not long after 
their home-coming--woe worth the        
while6--he flashed out ever and anon in 
his hot blood at little things which    
ruffled his temper1 and spoke harsh     
words which his gentle wife found hard  
to bear1 and which in his better moments
 he sincerely repented4  ,very willingly
 she forgave him1 but though at first he
 would kiss and caress her1 afterwards  
her very forgiveness and her meekness   

chafed and galled his proud spirit1 so  
that the first magical freshness of love
 faded from their life1 even as the dew 
dries on the flower in the heat of the  
morning4  ,not far from the castle1 in a
 clearing in the woods1 nestled the     
little convent and chapel of ,our ,lady 
in the ,meadow1 and thither1 attended by
 one of her pages1 the ,countess ,itha  
went daily to pray for her husband1 that
 he might conquer the violence of his   
wild heart1 and for herself1 that she   
might not grow to fear him more than she
 loved him4  ,in these days of her      
trial1 and in the worse days to come1 a 
great consolation it was to her to kneel
 in the silent chapel and pour out her  
unhappiness to her whose heart had been 
pierced by seven swords of sorrow4      
,time went by1 and when no little angel 
came from the knees of ,god to lighten  
her burden and to restrain with its     
small hands the headlong passion of her 
husband1 the ,count was filled with     
bitterness of spirit as he looked       

forward to a childless old age1 and     
reflected that all the fruitful straths 
of the ,toggenburg1 and the valleys and 
townships1 would pass away to some      
kinsman1 and no son of his would there  
be to prolong the memory of his name and
 greatness4  ,when this gloomy dread had
 taken possession of him1 he would turn 
savagely on the ,countess in his fits of
 fury1 and cry aloud3 ,out of my sight6 
,for all thy meekness and thy praying   
and thy almsgiving1 ,god knows it was an
 ill day when ,i set eyes on that fair  
face of thine6  ,yet this was in no way 
his true thought1 for in spite of his   
lower nature the ,count loved her1 but  
it is ever the curse of anger in a man  
that it shall wreak itself most         
despitefully on his nearest and best4   
,and ,itha1 who had learned this in the 
school of long-suffering1 answered never
 a word1 but only prayed the more       
constantly and imploringly4   ,in the   
train of the ,countess there were two   
pages1 ,dominic1 an ,italian1 whom she  

misliked for his vanity and boldness1   
and ,cuno1 a comely ,swabian lad1 who   
had followed her from her father's      
house4  ,most frequently when she went  
to ,our ,lady in the ,meadow she        
dismissed ,dominic and bade ,cuno attend
 her1 for in her distress it was some   
crumb of comfort to see the face of a   
fellow-countryman1 and to speak to him  
of ,kirchberg and the dear land she had 
left4  ,but ,dominic1 seeing that the   
,swabian was preferred1 hated ,cuno1 and
 bore the lady scant goodwill1 and in a 
little set his brain to some device by  
which he might vent his malice on both4 
,this was no difficult task1 for the    
,count was as prone to jealousy as he   
was quick to wrath1 and with crafty hint
 and wily jest and seemingly aimless    
chatter the ,italian sowed the seeds of 
suspicion and watchfulness in his       
master's mind4  ,consider1 then1 if     
these were not days of heartbreak for   
this lady1 still so young and so        
beautiful1 so unlovingly entreated1 and 

so far away from the home of her happy  
childhood4  ,yet she bore all patiently 
and without complaint or murmur1 only at
 times when she looked from terrace or  
tower her gaze travelled beyond the deep
 pine-woods1 and in a wistful day-dream 
she retraced1 beyond the great lake and 
the ,black ,forest1 all the long way she
 had ridden so joyfully with her dear   
husband by her side4  ,one day in the   
springtime1 when the birds of passage   
had flown northward1 carrying her tears 
and kisses with them1 she bethought her 
of the rich apparel in which she had    
been wed1 and took it from the carved   
oaken coffer to sweeten in the sun4     
,among her jewels she came upon her     
betrothal ring1 and the glitter of it   
reminded her of what her lord had said  
of its enchantment and the strange      
stories told of it4 ,are any of them so 
sad and strange as mine8 she wondered   
with tears in her eyes2 then kissing the
 ring in memory of that first kiss she  
had given it1 she laid it on a table in 

the window-bay1 and busied herself with 
the bridal finery2 and while she was so 
busied she was called away to some cares
 of her household1 and left the chamber4
  ,when she returned to put away her    
marriage treasures1 the betrothal ring  
was missing4  ,on the instant a cold    
fear came over her4  ,in vain she       
searched the coffer and the chamber2 in 
vain she endeavoured to persuade herself
 that she must have mislaid the jewel1  
or that perchance the ,count had seen   
it1 and partly in jest and partly in    
rebuke of her carelessness1 had taken   
it4  ,the ring had vanished1 and in     
spite of herself she felt that its      
disappearance portended some terrible   
evil4  ,too fearful to arouse her       
husband's anger1 she breathed no word of
 her loss1 and trusted to time or       
oblivion for a remedy4   ,no great while
 after this1 as the ,swabian page was   
rambling in the wood near the convent1  
he heard a great outcry of ravens around
 a nest in an ancient fir-tree1 and     

prompted partly by curiosity to know the
 cause of the disquiet1 and partly by   
the wish to have a young raven for sport
 in the winter evenings1 he climbed up  
to the nest4  ,looking into the great   
matted pack of twigs1 heather and lamb's
 wool1 he caught sight of a gold ring   
curiously chased and set with sparkling 
gems2 and slipping it gleefully on his  
finger he descended the tree and went   
his way homeward to the castle4  ,a few 
days later when the ,count by chance    
cast his eye on the jewel1 he recognised
 it at a glance for the enchanted ring  
of many strange stories4  ,the crafty   
lies of the ,italian ,dominic flashed   
upon him2 and1 never questioning that   
the ,countess had given the ring to her 
favourite1 he sprang upon ,cuno as      
though he would strangle him4  ,then in 
a moment he flung him aside1 and in a   
voice of thunder cried for the wildest  
steed in his stables to be brought      
forth4  ,paralysed with fright1 the     
luckless page was seized and bound by   

the heels to the tail of the half-tame  
creature1 which was led out beyond the  
drawbridge1 and pricked with daggers    
till it flung off the men-at-arms and   
dashed screaming down the rocky ascent  
into the wildwood4  ,stung to madness by
 his jealousy1 the ,count rushed to the 
apartment of the ,countess4  ,false and 
faithless1 false and faithless6 he cried
 in hoarse rage1 and clutching her in   
his iron grasp1 lifted her in the air   
and hurled her through the casement into
 the horrible abyss below4  ,as she fell
 ,itha commended her soul to ,god4  ,the
 world seemed to reel and swim around   
her2 she felt as if that long lapse     
through space would never have an end1  
and then it appeared to her as though   
she were peacefully musing in her chair1
 and she saw the castle of ,kirchberg   
and the pleasant fields lying serene in 
the sunlight1 and the happy villages1   
each with its great crucifix beside its 
rustic church1 and men and women at     
labour in the fields4  ,how long that   

vision lasted she could not tell4  ,then
 as in her fall she was passing through 
the tops of the trees which climbed up  
the lower ledges of the castle rocks1   
green leafy hands caught her dress and  
held her a little1 and strong arms      
closed about her1 and yielded slowly    
till she touched the ground2 and she    
knew that the touch of these was not the
 mere touch of senseless things1 but a  
contact of sweetness and power which    
thrilled through her whole being4       
,falling on her knees1 she thanked ,god 
for her escape1 and rising again she    
went into the forest1 wondering whither 
she should betake herself and what she  
should do2 for now she had no husband   
and no home4  ,she left the beaten      
track1 and plunging through the bracken1
 walked on till she was tired4  ,then   
she sat down on a boulder4  ,among the  
pines it was already dusk1 and the air  
seemed filled with a grey mist1 but this
 was caused by the innumerable dry wiry 
twigs which fringed the lower branches  

of the trees with webs of fine cordage2 
and when a ray of the setting sun struck
 through the pine trunks1 it lit up the 
bracken with emerald and brightened the 
ruddy scales of the pine bark to red    
gold4 ,here it was dry and sheltered1   
with the thick carpet of pine-needles   
underfoot and the thick roof of branches
 overhead3 and but for dread of wild    
creatures she thought she might well    
pass the night in this place4 ,to-morrow
 she would wander further and learn how 
life might be sustained in the forest4  
,the last ray of sunshine died away2 the
 deep woods began to blacken2 a cool air
 sighed in the high tops of the trees4  
,it was very homeless and lonely4  ,she 
took heart1 however1 remembering ,god's 
goodness to her1 and placing her        
confidence in ,his care4  ,suddenly she 
perceived a glimmering of lights among  
the pines4  ,torches they seemed1 a long
 way off2 and she thought it must be the
 retainers of the ,count1 who1 finding  
she had not been killed by her fall1 had

 sent them out to seek for her4  ,the   
lights drew nearer1 and she sat very    
still1 resigned to her fate whatsoever  
it might be4  ,and yet nearer they came1
 till at length by their shining she saw
 a great stag with lordly antlers1 and  
on the tines of the antlers glittered   
tongues of flame4  ,slowly the beautiful
 creature came up to her and regarded   
her with his large soft brown eyes4     
,then he moved away a little and looked 
back1 as though he were bidding her     
follow him4  ,she rose and walked by his
 side1 and he led her far through the   
forest1 till they came to an overhanging
 rock beside a brook1 and there he      
stopped4   ,in this hidden nook of the  
mountain-forest she made her home4      
,with branches and stones and turf she  
walled in the open hollow of the rock4  
,in marshy places she gathered the thick
 spongy mosses1 yellow and red1 and     
dried them in the sun for warmth at     
night in the cold weather4  ,she lived  
on roots and berries1 acorns and nuts   

and wild fruit1 and these in their time 
of plenty she stored against the winter4
  ,birds' eggs she found in the spring2 
in due season the hinds1 with their     
young1 came to her and gave her milk for
 many days2 the wild bees provided her  
with honey4  ,with slow and painful toil
 she wove the cotton-grass and the      
fibres of the bark of the birch1 so that
 she should not lack for clothing4  ,in 
the warm summer months there was a great
 tranquillity and hushed joy in this    
hard life4  ,a tender magic breathed in 
the colour and music of the forest1 in  
its long pauses of windless             
day-dreaming1 in its breezy frolic with 
the sunshine4  ,the trees and boulders  
were kindly2 and the turf reminded her  
of her mother's bosom4  ,about her      
refuge the wild flowers grew in         
plenty--primrose and blue gentian1      
yellow cinquefoil and pink geranium1 and
 forget-me-nots1 and many more1 and     
these looked up at her with the happy   
faces of little children who were       

innocent and knew no care2 and over     
whole acres lay the bloom of the ling1  
and nothing more lovely grows on earthly
 hills4  ,through breaks in the woodland
 she saw afar the ,alpine heights1 and  
the bright visionary peaks of snow      
floating in the blue air like glimpses  
of heaven4  ,but it was a bitter life in
 the winter-tide1 when the forest       
fretted and moaned1 and snow drifted    
about the shelter1 and the rocks were   
jagged with icicles1 and the stones of  
the brook were glazed with cold1 and the
 dark came soon and lasted long4  ,she  
had no fire1 but1 by ,god's good        
providence1 in this cruel season the    
great stag came to her at dusk1 and     
couched in the hollow of the rock beside
 her1 and the lights on his antlers lit 
up the poor house1 and the glow of his  
body and his pleasant breath gave her   
warmth4  ,here1 then1 dead to the world1
 dead to all she loved most dearly1     
,itha consecrated herself body and soul 
to ,god for the rest of her earthly     

years4  ,if she suffered as the wild    
children of nature suffer1 she was free 
at least from the cares and sorrows with
 which men embitter each other's        
existence4  ,here she would willingly   
live so long as ,god willed2 here she   
would gladly surrender her soul when ,he
 was pleased to call it home4  ,the days
 of her exile were many4  ,for seventeen
 years she dwelt thus in her hermitage  
in the forest1 alone and forgotten4     
,forgotten1 did ,i say8  ,not wholly4   
,the ,count never forgot her4  ,stung by
 remorse 7for in his heart of hearts he 
could not but believe her true and      
innocent71 haunted by the recollection  
of the happiness he had flung from him1 
wifeless1 childless1 friendless1 he     
could find no rest or forgetfulness     
except in the excitement and peril of   
the battle-field4  ,but the slaughter of
 men and the glory of victory were as   
dust and ashes in his mouth4  ,he had   
lost the joy of life1 the pride of race1
 the exultation of power4  ,for one look

 from those sweet eyes1 over which1     
doubtless1 the hands of some grateful   
peasant had laid the earth1 he would    
have joyfully exchanged renown and      
lordship1 and even life itself4   ,at   
length in the fulness of ,god's good    
time1 it chanced that the ,count was    
hunting in a distant part of the forest1
 when he started from its covert a      
splendid stag4  ,away through the open  
the beautiful creature seemed to float  
before him1 and ,heinrich followed in   
hot chase4  ,across grassy clearings and
 through dim vistas of pines1 over      
brooks and among boulders and through   
close underwood1 the fleet quarry led   
him without stop or stay1 till at last  
it reached the hanging rock which was   
,itha's cell1 and there it stood at bay2
 and alarmed by the clatter of hoofs1 a 
tall pale woman1 rudely clad in her poor
 forest garb1 came to the entrance4     
,surprised at so strange a sight1 the   
,count drew rein and stared at the      
woman4  ,despite the lapse of time and  

her pallor and emaciation1 in an instant
 he recognised the wife whom he believed
 dead1 and she too recognised the       
husband she had loved4  ,how shall ,i   
tell of all that was said between those 
two by that lonely hermitage in the     
depth of the forest8  ,as in the old    
days1 she was eager to forgive          
everything2 but it was in vain that the 
,count besought her to return to the    
life which she had forgotten for so many
 years4 ,long had she been dead and     
buried1 so far as earthly things were   
concerned4  ,she would prefer1 despite  
the hardness and the pain1 to spend in  
this peaceful spot what time was yet    
allotted to her1 but that she longed    
once more to hear the music of the holy 
bells1 to kneel once more before the    
altar of ,god4  ,what plea could        
,heinrich use to shake her resolution8  
,his shame and remorse1 even his love1  
held him tongue-tied4  ,he saw that she 
was no longer the meek gentle ,swabian  
maiden who had shrunk and wept at every 

hasty word and sharp glance of his4  ,he
 had slain all human love in her2       
nothing survived save that large charity
 of the ,saints which binds them to all 
suffering souls on the earth4  ,wofully 
he consented to her one wish4  ,a simple
 cell was prepared for her in the wood  
beside the chapel of ,our ,lady in the  
,meadow1 and there she dwelt until1 in a
 little while1 her gentle spirit was    
called home4     ,the ,story of the     
,lost ,brother  ,this is the story      
written in the chronicle of the ,priory 
of ,kilgrimol1 which is in              
,amounderness4  ,it tells of the ancient
 years before that great inroad of the  
sea which broke down the high firs of   
the western forest of ,amounderness1 and
 left behind it those tracts of sand and
 shingle that are now called the        
,blowing ,sands4  ,in those days ,oswald
 the ,gentle was ,prior of ,kilgrimol1  
and he beheld the inroad of the sea2 and
 afterwards he lived through the        
suffering and sorrow of the great plague

 of which people now speak as the ,black
 ,death4  ,of all monks and men he was  
the sweetest and gentlest1 and long     
before he was chosen ,prior1 when he had
 charge of the youths who wished to be  
monks1 he never wearied of teaching them
 to feel and care for all ,god's        
creatures1 from the greatest to the     
least1 and to love all ,god's works1 and
 to take a great joy even in stones and 
rocks1 and water and earth1 and the     
clouds and the blue air4  ,for1 said he1
 according to the flesh all these are in
 some degree our kinsfolk1 and like us  
they come from the hands of ,god4  ,does
 not ,mother ,church teach us this1     
speaking in her prayers of ,god's       
creature of fire1 and ,his creature of  
salt1 and ,his creature of flowers8     
,when some of the brotherhood would     
smile at his gentle sayings1 he would   
answer3 ,are these things1 then1 so     
strange and childish8 ,rather1 was not  
this the way of the ,lord ,jesus8  ,you 
have read how ,he was in the wilderness 

forty days1 tempted of ,satan1 and how  
,he was with the wild beasts8  ,all that
 those words may mean we have not been  
taught2 but well ,i believe that the    
wild things came to ,him1 even as very  
little children will run to a good man  
without any doubt of his goodness2 and  
that they recognised ,his pitifulness   
and ,his power to help them2 and that   
,he read in their dumb pleading eyes the
 pain and the travail under which the   
whole creation groaneth2 and that ,he   
blessed them1 and gave them solace1 and 
told them in some mysterious way of the 
day of sacrifice and redemption which   
was drawing near4  ,once when the       
brethren spoke of clearing out the nests
 from the church tower1 because of the  
clamour of the daws in the morning and  
evening twilight1 the                   
,novice-master--for this was ,oswald's  
title--besought them to remember the    
words of the ,psalmist1 ,king ,david3   
,the sparrow hath found an house and the
 swallow a nest for herself1 where she  

may lay her young1 even thine altars1 ,o
 ,lord of ,hosts4  ,as for the novices1 
many a legend he told them of the       
,saints and holy hermits who had loved  
the wild creatures1 and had made them   
companions or had been served by them in
 the lonely places of the hills and     
wildwood4  ,and in this1 he taught them1
 there was nothing strange1 for in the  
book of ,hosea1 it was written that ,god
 would make1 for those who served ,him1 
a treaty of peace and a league of love  
with the beasts and the birds of heaven 
and the creeping things of the earth1   
and in the book of ,job it was said that
 even the stones of the field should be 
in friendship with them4  ,and this we  
see1 he would say1 in the life of the   
blessed ,bishop ,kieran of ,saighir1 who
 was the first ,saint born in green     
,erinn4  ,for he wandered away through  
the land seeking the little well where  
he was to found his monastery4  ,that   
well was in the depths of a hoary wood1 
and when he drew near it the holy bell  

which he carried rang clear and bright1 
as it had been foretold him4  ,so he sat
 down to rest under a tree1 when        
suddenly a wild boar rushed out of its  
lair against him2 but the breath of ,god
 tamed it1 and the savage creature      
became his first disciple1 and helped   
him to fell small trees and to cut reeds
 and willows so that he might build him 
a cell4  ,after that there came from    
brake and copse and dingle and earth and
 burrow all manner of wild creatures2   
and a fox1 a badger1 a wolf1 and a doe  
were among ,kieran's first brotherhood4 
,we read1 too1 that for all his vows the
 fox made but a crafty and gluttonous   
monk1 and stole the ,saint's leather    
shoes1 and fled with them to his old    
earth4  ,wherefore ,kieran called the   
religious together with his bell1 and   
sent the badger to bring back the       
fugitive1 and when this was done the    
,saint rebuked the fox for an unworthy  
and sinful monk1 and laid penance upon  
him4  ,when the novices laughed at this 

adventure1 ,father ,oswald said3  ,these
 things are not matters of faith2 you   
may believe them or not as you will4    
,perhaps they did not happen in the way 
in which they are now told1 but if they 
are not altogether true1 they are at    
least images and symbols of truth4  ,but
 this ,i have no doubt is true--that    
when the blessed ,columba was ,abbot in 
,iona1 he called one of the brethren to 
him and bade him go on the third day to 
the western side of the island1 and sit 
on the sea-shore1 and watch for a guest 
who would arrive1 weary and hungry1 in  
the afternoon4  ,and the guest would be 
a crane1 beaten by the stormy winds1 and
 it would fall on the beach1 unable to  
fly further4  ',and do thou1' said      
,columba1 'take it up with gentle hands 
and carry it to the house of the guests1
 and tend it for three days and three   
nights1 and when it is refreshed it will
 fly up into the air1 and after scanning
 its path through the clouds it will    
return to its old sweet home in ,erinn2 

and if ,i charge thee so earnestly with 
this service1 it is because the guest   
comes from our dear land4'  ,and the    
,brother obeyed2 and on the third day   
the crane arrived1 storm-beaten and     
weary1 and three days later it departed4
  ,have you not also heard or read how  
our own ,st4 ,godrich at ,whitby        
protected the four-footed foresters1 and
 how a great stag1 which had been saved 
by him from the hunters1 came year after
 year at a certain season to visit him8 
,many legends too he told them of birds 
as well as beasts1 and three of these ,i
 will mention here because they are very
 pleasant to listen to4 ,one was of ,st4
 ,malo and the wren4  ,the wren1 the    
smallest of all birds1 laid an egg in   
the hood which ,st4 ,malo had hung up on
 a branch while he was working in the   
field1 and the blessed man was so gentle
 and loving that he would not disturb   
the bird1 but left his hood hanging on  
the tree till the wren's brood was      
hatched4  ,then there was the legend of 

,st4 ,meinrad1 who lived in a hut made  
of boughs on ,mount ,etzel1 and had two 
ravens for his companions4  ,now it     
happened that two robbers wandered near 
the hermitage1 and foolishly thinking   
that some treasure might be hidden      
there1 they slew the ,saint4 ,after a   
long search1 in which they found        
nothing1 they went down the mountain to 
,zurich2 but the holy man's ravens      
followed them with fierce cries1        
whirling about their heads and dashing  
at their faces1 so that the people in   
the valley wondered at the sight4  ,but 
one of the dalesmen who knew the ravens 
sent his son to the hermitage to see if 
all was well1 and followed the fellows  
to the town4  ,there they took refuge in
 a tavern1 but the ravens flew round and
 round the house1 screaming and pecking 
at the window near which the robbers had
 seated themselves4  ,speedily the lad  
came down with the news of the cruel    
murder2 the robbers were seized1 and1   
having confessed their crime1 they      

suffered the torture of death on the    
wheel4  ,and lastly there was the legend
 of ,st4 ,servan1 who had a robin which 
perched on his shoulder1 and fed from   
his hand1 and joined in with joyful     
twittering when the ,saint sang his     
hymns and psalms4  ,now the lads in the 
abbey-school were jealous of the        
,saint's favourite pupil1 ,kentigern1   
and out of malice they killed the robin 
and threw the blame on ,kentigern4      
,bitterly the innocent child wept and   
prayed over the dead bird2 and behold6  
when the ,saint came from singing nones 
in the minster1 the robin fluttered up  
and flew away to meet him1 chirruping   
merrily4  ,a thoughtless thing of little
 blame1 said the ,novice-master1 was the
 wickedness of these boys compared with 
that of the monks of the ,abbot         
,eutychus4  ,the ,abbot had a bear to   
tend his sheep while he was absent and  
to shut them in their fold at sunset1   
and when the monks saw that marvel1     
instead of praising ,god they were      

burned up with envy and ill-will1 and   
they killed the bear4  ,ah1 children1 it
 is still possible for us1 even in these
 days1 to kill a ,saint's robin and an  
abbot's bear4  ,let us beware of envy   
and jealousy and uncharitableness4   ,in
 those years when ,father ,oswald was   
thus teaching his novices gentleness and
 compassion1 he had but one trouble in  
his life1 and that was the remembrance  
of a companion of his youth1 who had    
fled from the ,priory and disappeared in
 the noise and tumult of the world's    
life4  ,as scholars they had been       
class-mates1 and as novices they had    
been so closely drawn together that each
 had pledged to the other that whoever  
died first should1 under ,god's         
permission1 appear to the one still left
 alive1 and reveal to his friend all    
that may be told of the state of the    
departed4  ,now hardly had they been    
professed monks more than a year when   
this brother broke his vows and deserted
 his habit1 and fled away under cloud of

 night4  ,oswald had never forgotten his
 friend1 and had never ceased to grieve 
and pray for him4  ,it was the great    
hope and desire of his heart that1      
having at last proved the vanity of all 
that the world can give1 this ,lost     
,brother would one day return1 like the 
,prodigal ,son1 to the house of his     
boyhood4   ,as the years went by ,prior 
,anselm grew old and sickened1 and at   
length what was mortal of him fell as   
the leaf that falls and is trodden in   
the clay2 and the ,novice-master was    
elected ,prior in his stead4  ,now one  
of the first great works which the new  
,prior set his hand to was the making of
 two large fish-ponds for the monastery4
  ,and so1 said he1 not only shall we   
have other than sea-fish for our table1 
but in case of fire we shall have store 
of water at hand4  ,then1 too1 it is a  
pleasant thing to look on sweet water   
among trees1 and to watch the many sorts
 of silvery fish playing in their clear 
and silent world4 ,and well it becomes  

our state of life that we should have   
this1 for of our ,lord's ,disciples many
 were fishermen1 and fish and bread were
 the last earthly food our dear ,master 
ate4  ,now of these ponds let the larger
 be our ,lake of ,gennesaret1 and surely
 it shall some time happen to us that we
 shall see the ,lord when the bright    
morning has come1 and that our hearts   
shall be as a fire of coals upon the    
shore4  ,of the earth dug out of the    
fish pools he piled up a high mound or  
barrow1 and stocked it well with        
saplings of oak and beech1 ash and pine1
 and flowering bushes2 and about the    
mound a spiral way wound to the top1 and
 from the top one saw to the four winds 
over the high woods of ,amounderness1   
and on the west1 beyond the forest1 the 
white sands of the shore and the fresh  
sea4  ,when the saplings grew tall and  
stout1 the green leaves shut out all    
sight of the ,priory2 even the tower of 
the church2 and above the trees in the  
bright air it was as though one had got 

half-way to heaven4  ,now after a little
 while the ,prior reared on the high    
summit a vast cross of oak1 rooted      
firmly amid huge boulders1 and the face 
of our ,lord crucified was turned to the
 west1 and ,his arms were opened wide to
 the sea and to the passing ships4  ,and
 beneath the flying sails1 far away1 the
 mariners and fisher-folk could see the 
cross in the sky1 and they bared their  
heads to the calvary of ,kilgrimol4  ,so
 the name of our house and our ,christ  
was known in strange waters and in      
distant havens4  ,all that climbing     
greenwood of the mound was alive with   
wild creatures1 winged and four-footed1 
and no one was suffered to disquiet or  
annoy them4  ,to us it seemed that the  
,prior was as well known to all the wild
 things far and near as he was to us1   
for the little birds fluttered about    
him1 and the squirrels leaped from tree 
to tree along the way he went1 and the  
fawns ran from the covert to thrust     
their noses into his hand4  ,and in the 

winter time1 if the snow lay deep and   
there was any dearth1 food was made     
ready for them and they came in flocks  
and troops to the ,priory1 knowing well1
 one would think1 that the ,prior would 
be their loving almoner4  ,bee-hives1   
too1 he set up1 and grew all manner of  
flowers1 both for the use of the little 
brown toilers and for the joyance of the
 brethren2 and of the flowers he spoke  
deep and beautiful parables too many to 
be told of in this book4   ,now in the  
third year of his rule the ,prior heard 
tidings of the companion he had never   
forgotten1 and he took into his         
confidence one of the religious named   
,bede1 in whom he had great trust1 and  
he told him the story of their          
friendship4  ,and now1 ,bede1 he said1  
,i would have thee go on a long journey1
 even to the golden city of ,london1 and
 seek out my friend4  ,he will easily be
 found1 for men know his name1 and he   
hath grown to some repute1 and the good 
things of this world have not been      

denied him4  ,and in this ,i rejoice1   
for when he hath won all his heart may  
desire1 he will the sooner discover how 
little is the joy and how fleeting the  
content4  ,and tell him that so long as 
,i am ,prior of this house1 so long     
shall this house be a home waiting for  
his home-coming4  ,bid him come to      
me--if but for a little while1 then for 
a little while be it2 but if he longs   
for rest1 this shall be the place of his
 rest until the end4  ,and if these     
things cannot be now1 then let them be  
when they may be4  ,and ,bede went on   
his long wayfaring and found the ,lost  
,brother1 a man happy and of fair fame1 
and blessed with wife and child4  ,and  
the monk sat with the little maid on his
 knee1 and even while he prayed for her 
and her father1 he understood how it    
might be that the man was well content1 
and how that neither to-day nor         
to-morrow could he return to that old   
life of the ,priory in the forest4      
,yet1 said he1 tell the ,prior that     

surely some day ,i shall see his face   
again1 if it be but for mere love of him
 for well ,i know there be among the    
monks those who would more joyfully rend
 me or burn me at the stake than give   
the hand of fellowship to one who has   
cast aside the cowl4  ,when he heard of 
these things the ,prior only prayed the 
more earnestly for the home-coming of   
his friend4   ,now it was in the autumn 
of that year1 at the season when the    
days and nights are of one length1 that 
the great inroad of the sea befell4     
,the day had been stormy1 with a        
brackish wind clamouring out of the sea1
 and as the darkness closed in it was   
with us as it is with blind men who hear
 and feel the more keenly because of    
their blindness and all that we heard   
was the boom of billows breaking on the 
long shore and the crying and groaning  
of the old oaks and high firs in the    
forest4 ,then in the midmost of the     
night we were aroused by so terrible a  
noise1 mingled with shrieking and       

wailing1 that we crowded to the ,prior's
 door4  ,speedily he rose1 and we       
followed him out of doors1 wondering    
what disaster had happened4  ,the moon  
was shining brightly2 shreds of cloud   
were flying across the cold sky2 the air
 was full of the taste of salt4  ,as we 
gazed about us we saw that the cloisters
 and the garth and all the space within 
the walls were crowded with wild        
birds--sea-fowl and crows1 pheasant and 
blackcock1 starlings and thrushes1      
stonechats and yellow-hammers1 and      
hundreds of small winged creatures      
cowering for shelter4  ,and when the    
,prior bade us throw open the monastery 
gates1 out of the sombre gloom of the   
forest the scared woodlanders came      
crowding1 tame and panting4  ,no one had
 ever realised that so many strange     
creatures1 in fur and pelt1 housed in   
the green ways4  ,even the names of many
 of them we did not know1 for we had    
never set eyes on them before2 but among
 those that were within our knowledge   

were coneys and hares1 stoats and       
weasels1 foxes and badgers1 many deer   
with their does and fawns1 and one huge 
grey creature of savage aspect which we 
took to be an old wolf4  ,the ,prior    
ordered that the gates should be left   
open for any fugitives that might seek  
refuge1 and he went among the wild      
beasts1 calming them with a touch of his
 hand and blessing them4  ,then there   
came a woman1 with a child at her bosom 
and a little lad clinging to her dress1 
but she was so distracted with fright   
that she was unable to say what had     
happened4  ,when he had given directions
 for the care of all these strange      
guests1 the ,prior climbed up the mound 
through the tossing trees1 and when he  
had reached the summit he saw to his    
amazement that the sea had risen in a   
mighty flood and poured for miles into  
the forest4  ,the huge oaks and pines of
 centuries had gone down in thousands1  
and over their fallen trunks and broken 
branches the white billows were tumbling

 and leaping in clouds of spray in the  
moonlight4  ,happily the land sloped    
away to the north1 so that unless the   
wind changed and blew against us the    
,priory seemed to be in no present      
danger4  ,overhead the great cross      
vibrated in the storm1 and the face of  
the ,christ gazed seaward1 and the holy 
arms were opened wide4  ,the sight of   
that divine figure filled the ,prior's  
heart with peace and confidence4        
,whether to live or to die1 he murmured1
 in ,thee1 ,o ,lord1 have we placed our 
trust4  ,such was the terrible inroad of
 the sea which broke the western forest 
of ,amounderness4  ,for many a day the  
land lay in salt swamp till the sands   
were blown over it and buried the fallen
 timber2 and afterwards the very name of
 ,forest was forgotten1 and the people  
called all that part the ,field-lands4  
,now it was in this same year that the  
grievous pestilence named the ,black    
,death raged in ,england2 but it was not
 till the winter had gone by that it    

reached ,amounderness4  ,then were seen 
those terrible days when ships sailed   
the seas with crews of dead men1 and    
when on land there was burying without  
sorrow and flight without safety1 for   
though many fled they could not escape  
the evil1 and so many died that the     
wells of sorrow ran dry4  ,and because  
of the horror of so many deaths1 it was 
forbidden to toll the bells any longer  
lest men should go mad4 ,often no hand  
could be got for love or for gold to    
touch the sick or to carry the departed 
to their graves4  ,when the graveyards  
were filled1 thousands were buried1     
without a prayer or a last look1 in deep
 trenches salted with quicklime1 on the 
commons or in an open field4 ,many a    
street in many a town fell suddenly     
silent and deserted1 and grass grew     
between the stones of the causeway4     
,here and there fires were kept burning 
night and day to purify the air1 but    
this availed little4  ,in many a thorpe 
and village all the inhabitants were    

swept away and even robbers and         
desperate vagrants were too greatly in  
fear of infection to enter the ownerless
 houses4  ,sometimes in the fields one  
saw little children1 and perchance an   
aged woman1 trying to manage a plough or
 to lead a waggon4  ,when this trouble  
fell upon the people the ,prior sent out
 various of the brethren to aid the     
suffering and to comfort the bereaved2  
but when many of the monks themselves   
were stricken down and died within the  
hour1 a great dread took hold of the    
others1 so that they were unwilling to  
expose themselves to danger4  ,the      
,prior rebuked them for their lack of   
faith and the coldness of their charity4
  ,when the beasts and wild creatures   
suffered we had compassion on them1 he  
said2 what folly is this that we shall  
have care for them and yet feel no pity 
for men and women in their misery6 ,do  
you fear that you too may be taken off  
by this pestilence8  ,who1 then1 has    
told you that you shall not die if only 

you can escape the pestilence8  ,daily  
you pray1 ',thy kingdom come1' and daily
 you seek that it shall not come to-day4
  ,he went abroad himself unweariedly   
with one or other of the brethren1 doing
 such good as he was able1 and when he  
had returned home and taken a little    
rest he set out once more4  ,now one    
night as he and ,brother ,bede returned 
belated through the forest1 they were   
startled as they approached the gate to 
hear the weeping and moaning of one who 
lay forsaken on the cold earth2 and when
 the ,prior called out through the      
darkness1 ,be of good cheer1 ,christian 
soul1 we are coming to your aid1 the    
sufferer replied by rattling the lid of 
his clap-dish1 and at once they knew it 
was some poor leper who had fallen      
helpless by the way4  ,patience1        
brother1 said the ,prior2 and bidding   
his companion open the wicket1 he lifted
 the wretched outcast from the ground   
and carried him in his arms into the    
great hall4  ,rest here a little1 he    

said1 till we can bring you light and   
fire and food4  ,the ,prior and ,bede   
hastened to call the brethren who had   
charge of these matters1 but when they  
returned with the other monks they found
 the great hall shining with a wonderful
 light and filled with a marvellous     
fragrance of flowers1 and on the seat   
where the leper had been placed there   
lay a golden rose1 but the leper himself
 had vanished4  ,then a great joy cast  
fear out of the hearts of the           
brotherhood1 and they laboured without  
ceasing in the stricken villages4  ,many
 of them died1 but it was without sorrow
 or repining1 and the face of each was  
touched with the golden rose ere he was 
laid to his rest4   ,now the pestilence 
of that year was stayed by a bitter     
winter1 and snow lay deep even in the   
forest1 and great blocks of ice littered
 the shore of the bleak sea4  ,and in   
the depth of the winter1 when it drew   
near the ,nativity1 there came riding to
 the monastery a stranger1 who asked to 

see the ,prior4  ,when the ,prior looked
 into the man's face the tears started  
and ran down his own1 and he opened his 
arms to him1 and drew him to his breast 
and kissed him4  ,for this was indeed   
the ,lost ,brother4  ,and when he had   
thus given him welcome1 the ,prior said3
 ,i ask no questions2 what you can tell 
me you shall tell when the fitting time 
comes4  ,but this is your home to have  
or to leave1 for you are as free as the 
winds of heaven4  ,and the ,lost        
,brother replied3 ,wise are you no less 
than good4  ,the plague has bereft me of
 the child1 and of the mother of the    
child4 ,more ,i cannot tell you now4    
,thus to the ,priori great happiness the
 companion of his youth returned from   
wandering the ways of the world4  ,when 
the weeks passed1 and still he remained 
a silent and solitary stranger1 the     
religious spoke sharply among themselves
 of the presence of one who had broken  
vows and revelled in the joys of life1  
and had been received without censure or

 reproof4  ,then the ,prior1 wrathful   
now even on account of his gentleness1  
rebuked them once again3 ,o eyes of     
stone and hearts of water1 are you so   
slow to learn8  ,have you who sheltered 
the wild creatures no thought for this  
man of much sorrow8 ,have you who buried
 the dead no prayer and no tenderness   
for this soul of the living8  ,more than
 once the ,lost ,brother seemed to awake
 from a dream1 and spoke of going forth 
again from this home or quiet1 saying3  
,truly this is great peace and solace to
 me1 but ,i am not of you2 my thoughts  
are not your thoughts1 nor is yours my  
way of life4  ,indeed1 though ,i were to
 will it never so1 ,i could not repent  
of what ,i have done4  ,let me go2 why  
should ,i be an offence and a stone of  
stumbling to those who are righteous    
among you8  ,but the ,prior silenced    
him1 asking gently3 ,do we distress you 
with any of these things8  ,god has ,his
 times and seasons1 and will not be     
hastened4  ,at least so long as you find

 peace and rest here1 remain with us4   
,you are strangely wise and gentle1 the 
,lost ,brother answered4  ,god1 ,i doubt
 it not1 has ,his times and seasons2 but
 with me ,i know not at all what ,he    
will do4  ,it was no long while after   
this that the ,prior fell into a        
grievous illness2 and when he knew that 
his hour was drawing nigh1 he besought  
the monks to bear him up to the foot of 
the cross on the mound4  ,there1 as he  
looked far abroad into the earth over   
the tree-tops1 he smiled with lightness 
of heart and said3 ,if the earth be so  
beautiful and so sweet1 what must the   
delight of ,paradise be8  ,and behold6 a
 small brown squirrel came down a tree1 
and ran across and nestled in the holy  
man's bosom1 and its eyes were full of  
tears4  ,the ,prior stroked and caressed
 it1 and said3 ,god bless thee1 little  
woodlander1 and may the nuts never fail 
thee6  ,then1 gazing up into the blue   
sky and the deep spaces of air above1 he
 murmured in a low voice1 ,it is a very 

awful and lonely way to go6  ,not so    
awful for you1 replied the companion of 
his youth4  ,that blue way has been     
beaten plain by the ,lord ,christ1 and  
the ,apostles1 and many holy men from   
the beginning4  ,a long while the ,prior
 lay musing before he spoke again1 and  
then he said3 ,i remember me of an      
ancient saying which ,i had long        
forgotten4 ,a year for the life of      
a--nay1 ,i know not what any longer4    
,but after that it runs1 ,and three for 
the life of a field2 and thrice the life
 of a field for the life of a hound2 and
 thrice the life of a hound for the life
 of a horse2 and thrice the life of a   
horse for the life of a man2 and thrice 
the life of a man for the life of a     
stag2 and thrice the life of a stag for 
the life of an ouzel2 and thrice the    
life of an ouzel for the life of an     
eagle2 and thrice the life of an eagle  
for the life of a salmon2 and thrice the
 life of a salmon for the life of a yew2
 but the ,lord ,god liveth for ever--the

 ,lord ,god liveth for ever6  ,that same
 night the alabaster box was broken and 
the precious ointment poured out4  ,and 
on the ,prior's breast they placed the  
golden rose1 and under the great red    
hawthorn in the midst of the            
cloister-garth they laid him1 ,o ,lord1 
beneath the earth which is ,thy         
footstool4  ,at the same hour in which  
he was taken from us there was a great  
crying and lamentation of the wild      
creatures in the forest1 and the tall   
stags bellowed and clashed their antlers
 against the gates of the monastery4    
,in the place of ,prior ,oswald1 ,father
 ,bede was made ,prior4  ,whether the   
spirit of ,prior ,oswald ever returned  
to earth the book does not tell1 but the
 ,lost ,brother1 the companion of his   
youth1 lived in the house of ,kilgrimol 
to old age1 and in the days of ,bede's  
rule he made a good end4     ,the ,king 
,orgulous  ,to and fro in the open      
cloister of ,essalona walked the monk   
,desiderius1 musing and musing4  ,every 

now and again he stayed in his paces to 
feed a tall white stork and two of her  
young1 which stood on the parapet       
between the pillars of the cloister2 and
 though for the most part his dole went 
to the storklings1 the mother was well  
content with his stroking of her head   
and soft white backfeathers4  ,then he  
resumed his slow walk1 turning over and 
over in his perplexed mind the questions
 of grace and nature1 and praying for   
light in the obscure ways where reason  
groped darkling4  ,meanwhile the storks 
stood grave and patient1 as if they too 
had matter for deep musing4  ,as in this
 day1 so in the ancient time the convent
 of ,essalona was perched on a beetling 
crag on the northern side of the ,sarras
 mountains4  ,there the mighty ridge1   
with its belts of virgin pinewood and   
its stony knolls and pastoral glens1    
breaks off suddenly in a precipitous    
escarpment2 and1 a thousand feet below1 
the land is an immense green plain1     
sweeping away to the blue limits of the 

north4  ,it is as though the sea had    
once on a time run up to the mountain   
wall and torn down the tawny rocks for  
sand and shingle1 and had then drawn    
back into the north1 leaving the good   
acres to grow green in the sun4 ,through
 the plain winds a river1 bright and    
slow2 in many places the fruitful level 
is ruffled with thicket and coppice2 and
 among the far fields the white walls of
 farms and hamlets glitter amid their   
boskage4 ,when the clear sunlight fell  
on that still expanse of quiet earth1   
one might see1 in those days1 the stone 
towers and sparkling pinnacles of the   
royal city of ,sarras1 with a soft blue 
feather of smoke floating over it4      
,often had ,desiderius let his eyes rest
 on the smoulder and gleam of that busy 
city1 which was all so hushed and       
dreamlike in the distance1 little       
thinking the while that one day he      
should dwell within its walls1 and play 
a strange part in the deeds that men    
remember4  ,from the brink of the       

escarpment rises the rock of ,essalona1 
and the convent is built on the edge of 
the rock1 in such sort that1 leaning    
over the parapet of the open cloister1  
,desiderius might have dropped a pebble 
sheer down to the plain below4  ,a      
single path wound up the rock to the    
gate1 so narrow and steep that one      
sturdy lay-brother might have held the  
way with a thresher's flail against a   
score of men-at-arms4  ,illustration3   
,king ,orgulous  ,here1 then1 in this   
solitary house1 ,desiderius dwelt with  
five other brethren1 all good and       
faithful men2 but he1 the youngest and  
yet the most learned in philosophy and  
star-lore and the sacred ,scriptures and
 the books of the wise1 was the most    
meek and lowly of heart4  ,no pains did 
he spare his body or his spirit to      
master the deep knowledge of divine     
things4  ,diligent by day1 he eked out  
the light of the stars with the lamp of 
the firefly1 or conned his page by the  
dim shining of the glow-worm along the  

lines4  ,now as he mused in the cloister
 he stopped short with a deep sigh1 and 
stood before the storks1 and said3      
,away1 happy birds2 you have leave4     
,disport yourselves1 soaring very high  
in the sunny heavens1 or take your rest 
on our roofs4  ,i have appeased you with
 food2 but to the hunger of my soul who 
shall minister8  ,at his word the storks
 flapped their wings and rose from the  
parapet1 and went sailing up into the   
sunshine2 and ,desiderius heard at his  
shoulder a most sweet and gracious voice
 saying3 ,what is thy hunger1 and       
wherein wouldst thou have me minister to
 thee8  ,turning about1 ,desiderius saw 
that it was an ,angel which spoke1 and  
he fell at the bright spirit's feet1    
abashed and in great dread4  ,but the   
,angel raised him up1 and gave him      
courage1 saying3 ,o ,desiderius1 most   
dear to me 7for ,i am thine ,angel      
,guardian71 do not tremble to tell me2  
but speak to me even as thou wouldst    
speak to a man of thy brethren4  ,then  

said ,desiderius3 ,show to me and make  
plain1 ,i pray thee1 the mystery of the 
grace of ,god in the heart of man4      
,many are the mysteries of ,god1 said   
the ,angel1 whereof even the highest of 
the ,archangels may not sustain the     
splendour1 and this is one of them4     
,howbeit1 if thou wilt be patient and   
prayerful1 and wilt repose thy trust in 
the ,lord ,christ1 ,i will strive to    
show thee two pictures of thy very      
self--one1 to wit1 of the natural ,adam 
in ,desiderius1 and one of the man      
redeemed by the blood shed for thee4    
,so in some wise shalt thou come to some
 dim light of this mystery of grace     
divine4  ,will that suffice thee8       
,that1 ,lord ,angel1 will suffice1 said 
the monk1 bowing low before the ,angel4 
,wait1 then1 and watch2 and even in thy 
body and before thou diest thou shalt   
behold as ,i have said4  ,therewith the 
,angel left him1 and ,desiderius was    
aware of but the walls and pillars of   
the cloister1 and the bright vast plain1

 and1 far away1 the city of ,sarras     
glittering1 and the smoke sleeping like 
a small blue cloud above it4  ,and the  
coming and going of the ,angel was after
 this manner4  ,desiderius perceived    
him1 bright in the brightness of the    
sunshine1 as one perceives a morsel of  
clear ice floating in clear water2 and  
when ,desiderius saw him no more it was 
as though the clear ice had melted into 
the clear water4   ,now after the lapse 
of three short years1 and when he was   
but in his thirtieth summer1 ,desiderius
 was summoned from his cell on the      
lonely mountain1 and1 despite his tears 
and supplications and his protestations 
of ignorance and inexperience and       
extreme youth1 made ,archbishop of      
,sarras4  ,only one answer was          
vouchsafed to him4  ,one of thy vows was
 entire obedience1 and the grace of ,god
 is sufficient for thee4  ,in that same 
year a horde of the fierce ,avars poured
 out from the round green earth-walls of
 their mysterious stronghold1 which lay 

beyond ,danube1 and1 crossing the river1
 fell on ,sarras2 and clashing with that
 ravening horde1 ,astulf the ,king of   
,sarras was slain4  ,ill had it then    
fared with the folk of ,sarras1 city and
 plain alike1 but for a certain         
,talisso1 a free-rider1 who from a green
 knoll had watched the onset4  ,when he 
saw the slaying of the ,king1 he plunged
 into the battle1 cleaving his way      
through the ranks of squat and swarthy  
,avars2 and heartening the men of       
,sarras with his ringing cheer and      
battle-laughter1 shaped them into wedges
 of sharp iron and drove them home      
through the knotted wood of their       
foemen1 till the ,avars fled hot-foot to
 ,danube water1 and through the water1  
and beyond1 and so reached the strait   
doorways of their earth-bound           
stronghold1 the ,hring4  ,now1 seeing   
that the ,king of ,sarras had left      
neither child nor brother to heirship1  
and that their deliverer was a stalwart 
champion1 young and nobly statured1 and 

handsome and gracious as he was valiant1
 frank too and open-handed1 and that    
moreover he seemed a man skilled in the 
mastery of men and in affairs of rule1  
the fighting men of ,sarras thought that
 no better fortune could befall them    
than they should choose this ,talisso   
for their king4  ,to ,sarras therefore  
they carried him with them on their     
merry home-going1 and having entered the
 free town1 called the ,council of      
,elders to say yea or nay4  ,with few   
words the ,elders confirmed the choice1 
and the joy-bells were rung1 and great  
was the rejoicing of all men1 gentle and
 simple1 that ,god had sent them so     
goodly a man for their ruler and        
bulwark4  ,in a week from that the city 
was dight and decked for the crowning of
 ,talisso4  ,garlands were hung across  
the streets2 windows and walls were     
graced with green branches and wreaths  
of flowers2 many-coloured draperies1    
variegated carpets and webs of silk and 
velvet hung from parapet and balcony2   

once more the joy-bells were set aswing1
 and amid a proud array of nobles and   
elders and gaily harnessed warriors the 
new ,king walked under a canopy of cloth
 of gold to the ,high ,church4  ,there  
in solemn splendour the new ,archbishop 
administered to him the kingly oath1 and
 anointed him with the chrism of        
consecration1 and set the gold of power 
on his head1 and invested him with the  
mantle of ,st4 ,victor and girt about   
him the ,saint's great iron sword set   
with many jewels on the apple and the   
cross4  ,as the ,archbishop was         
completing these ordinances1 he chanced 
to look full into the ,king's face for  
the first time1 and as the ,king's eyes 
met his each stood still as stone       
regarding the other for such a space as 
it would take one to count four1 telling
 the numbers slowly4  ,neither spoke1   
and when they who were nearest looked to
 learn the cause of the stillness and   
the stoppage they saw with amazement    
that the new ,king and the new          

,archbishop were as like the one to the 
other as brothers who are twins4 ,with a
 slow and audible drawing of the breath 
the ,archbishop took up again the words 
of the ritual1 and neither looked at the
 other any more at that time4  ,now1    
having been crowned and consecrated1    
,talisso ascended the steps in front of 
the altar1 and1 drawing the huge blade  
from its sheath1 lunged with it four    
times into the air--once to the north1  
and once to the south1 once to the east 
and once to the west4  ,sheathing the   
sword1 he descended1 and walking to the 
western portal mounted his war-horse1   
and paced slowly down the street1       
followed by a brilliant cavalcade1 to   
the ,mound of ,coronation4  ,urging his 
steed up the ascent1 he drew rein on the
 summit1 and once more bared the holy   
brand1 and1 wheeling to the four        
quarters of heaven1 thrust it into the  
air in token of lordship and power      
inalienable2 and when he rode down the  
,mound to his people a great cry was    

raised in greeting1 and four pigeons    
were loosed4  ,high they flew in circles
 overhead1 and1 each choosing his own   
airt1 darted out to the four regions of 
the world to bear the news of that      
crowning4   ,the first years of the new 
reign seemed to be the dawn of a ,golden
 ,age in the land of ,sarras1 and in    
those years no man was more beloved and 
honoured by the ,king than was          
,archbishop ,desiderius4  ,as time      
passed by1 however1 and the evil leaven 
of unrestrained power began to ferment  
in the ,king's heart1 and the           
,archbishop opposed and reproved him1   
gently and tenderly at first1 but ever  
more gravely and steadfastly1 coldness  
and estrangement divided them2 and soon 
that strange resemblance which gave them
 the aspect of twin brothers1 became a  
root of suspicion and dread in the      
,king's mind1 for he reasoned with      
himself1 ,what more likely than that    
this masterful prelate should dream of  
wearing the crown1 he who so nearly     

resembles the ,king that the mother of  
either might well pause ere she should  
say which was her son8  ,a foot of iron1
 and a sprinkling of earth1 and farewell
 ,talisso6 ,none would guess it was     
,desiderius who took his ease in thy    
chair4  ,thus by degrees limitless power
 waxed into lawlessness1 and suspicion  
and dread into moroseness and cruelty1  
and on this rank soil the red weeds of  
lust and hate and bitter pride sprang up
 and choked all that was sweet and      
gracious and lovable in the nature of   
the man4  ,then did the wise and gentle 
folk of ,sarras come to perceive how    
woefully they had been deceived in the  
tyrant they had crowned1 and speedily it
 came to pass that when they spoke of   
,king ,talisso they breathed not his    
name1 but using an ancient word to      
signify such insane and evil pride as   
that of ,lucifer and the ,fallen        
,angels1 they called him the ,king      
,orgulous4  ,yet if this was the mind of
 the better folk1 there was no lack of  

base and venomous creatures--flatterers1
 time-servers1 and sycophants--to       
minister to his wickedness and          
malignity4  ,dark were the days which   
now fell on ,sarras1 and few were those 
on which some violence or injustice1    
some deed of lust or rapacity was not   
flaunted in the face of heaven4  ,the   
most noble and best men of the city were
 attainted and plundered and driven into
 exile4  ,of the meaner sort of folk    
many a poor citizen or rustic toiler    
went shaven and branded1 or maimed of   
nose and eyelids1 or with black stumps  
seared with pitch and an iron hook for  
hand4  ,once more the torture-chamber of
 the castle rang with the screams of    
poor wretches stretched on the rack2 and
 the ancient instruments of pain1 which 
had rusted through many a long year of  
clemency1 were once more reddened with  
the sweat of human agony4  ,an          
insatiable lust of cruelty drove the    
,king to a sort of madness4 ,with a     
fiendish malice he fashioned of wood and

 iron an engine of torment which bore   
the likeness of a beautiful woman1 but  
which opened when a spring was pressed1 
and showed within a hideous array of    
knives2 and these pierced the miserable 
wight about whom the ,image closed her  
arms4  ,in blasphemous merriment the    
,king called this woman of his making   
,our ,lady of ,sorrow1 and in mockery of
 holy things he kept a silver lamp      
burning constantly before her1 and      
crowned her with flowers4  ,now in the  
hour in which the ,king was left wholly 
to his wickedness1 he doomed to the     
,image the young wife of one of the     
chief men of ,sarras4 ,little more than 
a girl was she in years2 sweet and      
exceeding lovely2 and she still suckled 
her first babe4  ,when the tormentors   
would have haled her to the ,image1     
,forbear1 she said1 there is no need2   
willingly ,i go and cheerfully4  ,and   
with a fearless meekness she walked     
before them with her little babe in her 
arms into the chamber of agony4  ,coming

 before the ,image with its garland of  
flowers she knelt down1 and prayed to   
the ,virgin ,mother of our ,lord1 and   
commended her soul and the soul of her  
dear babe to our ,lady and her divine   
,son2 and the babe stretched out its    
little hands to the ,image1 cooing and  
babbling in its innocence4  ,then1 as   
though this were a spectacle to make the
 very stones shriek and to move the     
timber of the rack and the iron of the  
axe to human tenderness1 the ,image     
stepped down from its pedestal1 and     
lifted up mother and child1 and a       
wondrous light and fragrance filled the 
stone vault1 and the tormentors fled1   
stricken with a mad terror4  ,down from 
the castle and through the streets of   
the hushed and weeping city the ,image  
led the mother and her babe to their own
 door1 and when they had entered the    
house1 and the people stood by sobbing  
and praying1 the ,image burst into      
flames1 and on the spot where it stood  
there remained a little heap of ashes   

when that burning was done4  ,judge if  
the land of ,sarras was silent after    
this day of divine interposition4       
,hastily summoning the ,bishops of the  
realm1 and gathering a body of          
men-at-arms1 the ,archbishop ,desiderius
 proclaimed from the ,jesus altar of the
 ,high ,church the deposition of the    
,king ,orgulous4  ,talisso was seized   
and stripped of his royal robes2 a width
 of sackcloth was wrapped about his     
body1 and with a rope round his neck he 
was led to the ,mound of ,coronation4   
,there1 on the height whereon he had    
thrust his sword into the four regions  
of heaven1 he received his sentence4    
,standing erect in a circle on the top  
of the ,mound the nine ,bishops of the  
realm held each a lighted torch in his  
hand4  ,in the centre stood ,desiderius 
beside the ,king deposed1 and holding   
high his torch uttered the anathema     
which was to sever all bonds of plighted
 troth and loyalty and service1 and to  
cast him forth from the pale of ,holy   

,church1 and to debar him from the      
common charity of all ,christian people4
  ,at that moment the ,bishops marked   
with awe the strange resemblance between
 ,desiderius and the ,king1 and the eyes
 of these two met1 and each was aware   
how marvellously like to himself was the
 other4  ,but with a clear unfaltering  
voice the ,archbishop cried aloud the   
doom3  ,may he be outcast from the grace
 of heaven and the gladness of earth4   
,may the stones betray him1 and the     
trees of the forest be leagued against  
him4  ,in want or in sickness may no    
hand help him4  ,accursed may he be in  
his house and in his fields1 in the     
water of the streams and in the fruits  
of the earth4  ,accursed be all things  
that are his1 from the cock that crows  
to awaken him to the dog that barks to  
welcome him4  ,may his death be the     
death of ,pilate and of ,judas the      
betrayer4 ,may no earth be laid on the  
earth that was he4  ,may the light of   
his life be extinguished thus6  ,and the

 ,archbishop cast down his torch and    
trampled it into blackness2 and crying  
,amen1 amen1 amen6 the ,bishops threw   
down their torches and trod them under  
foot and crushed out every spark of     
fire4  ,begone1 said the ,archbishop1   
thou art banned and banished4  ,if      
within three days thy feet be found on  
the earth of ,sarras1 thou shalt hang   
from the nearest tree4  ,as he spoke the
 great bell of the ,high ,church began  
to toll as for one whose spirit has     
passed away4  ,at the sound ,talisso    
started2 then taking the rope from his  
neck and flinging it on the ground with 
a mocking laugh1 he turned and fled down
 the ,mound and into the green fields   
that lie to the north4   ,not far had he
 fled into the open country before the  
recklessness of the reiver and          
strong-thief fell on ,talisso4          
,entering a homestead he smote down the 
master1 and got himself clothing and    
food and weapons1 and seizing a horse1  
pushed on apace till he came to the red 

field where he had routed the ,avars1   
and thence onward to ,danube water4     
,beyond ,danube1 some days' riding into 
the north1 lay that mysterious          
stronghold1 the ,hring1 the camp-city of
 the ,avar robber-horde4  ,and thither  
,talisso was now speeding1 for he said  
to himself3 ,they are raiders and       
slayers1 and this kind is quick to know 
a man4  ,they will love me none the less
 that ,i have stricken and chased them4 
,rather will they follow me and avenge  
me1 if not for my sake for the sake of  
the fat fields and rich towns of        
,sarras4  ,now the stronghold was a     
marvel in the manner of its contrivance1
 and in its size and strength2 for it   
was bulwarked with seven rings1 each    
twenty feet high and twenty feet wide1  
and the rings were made of stockades of 
oak and beech and pine trunks1 filled in
 with stones and earth1 and covered atop
 with turf and thick bushes4  ,the      
distance across the outer ring was      
thirty miles1 and between each ring and 

the one within it there were villages   
and farms in cry of each other1 and each
 ring was pierced by narrow gateways    
well guarded4  ,in the midst of the     
innermost ring were the tent of the     
,chagan or ,great ,chief1 and the ,house
 of the ,golden ,hoard4  ,piled high    
were the chambers of that house with the
 enormous treasure of a century of      
raiding--silken tissues and royal       
apparel and gorgeous arms1 great vases  
and heavy plate of gold and silver1     
spoil of jewels and precious stones1    
leather sacks of coined money1 the      
bribes and tribute of ,greece and ,rome1
 and ,i know not what else of rare and  
costly4  ,long afterwards1 when the     
,avars were broken and the ,hring thrown
 down1 that hoard filled fifteen great  
waggons drawn each by four oxen4  ,in   
the very manner in which ,talisso had   
forecast it1 so it fell out with him at 
the ,hring4  ,the fierce1 swart1        
broad-shouldered dwarfs with the almond 
eyes and woven pigtails gazed with glee 

and admiration on the tall and comely   
warrior who had swept them before his   
sword-edge2 and when he spoke of the    
rich markets and goodly houses and      
fruitful land of ,sarras their eyes     
glistened1 and they swore by fire and   
water and the four winds to avenge his  
wrongs4   ,little need is there to      
linger in telling of a swift matter4    
,mounted on their nimble and hardy      
ponies1 the ,avars dashed into ,sarras  
land two hundred strong1 and tarried    
neither to slay nor spoil1 but outsped  
the fleet feet or rumour1 till in the   
grey glimmer of cock-crow they sighted  
the towers of ,sarras city4  ,under     
cover of a wood they rested till the    
gates were flung wide for the early     
market folk4  ,who then but ,talisso    
laughed his fierce and orgulous laugh as
 he rode at their head and they all     
hurled through the gates1 and1          
clattering up the empty street1 carried 
the castle out of hand8  ,not a blow was
 struck1 no drop of blood reddened iron 

or stone2 and such divinity doth hedge  
even a wicked king dethroned that when  
the guards saw the tyrant once more     
ascending the steps of power they       
lowered their points and stood at a loss
 how to act4  ,but ,talisso1 with some  
touch of his pristine graciousness1 bade
 no man flee or fear who was willing to 
return to his allegiance4  ,first1      
however1 of all things1 bring me hither 
the ,archbishop2 bring with ropes and   
horses if need be2 but see that not a   
hair of his head be injured4   ,now on  
this same night that these ,hunnish folk
 were pressing forward to ,sarras city  
,desiderius saw in a dream ,talisso     
standing before the throne of ,god4  ,on
 his head he wore his crown1 but        
otherwise he was but such as he stood   
for sentence on the ,mound of           
,coronation1 to wit1 with a rope around 
his neck1 and naked save for the fold of
 sackcloth about his loins4  ,beside him
 stood an ,angel1 and the ,angel was    
speaking3 ,all the lusts of the flesh1  

and all the lusts of the eyes1 and all  
the lusts of the will1 and the pride of 
life this man hath gratified and glutted
 to surfeiting1 yet is he as restless as
 the sea and as insatiable as the grave4
  ,speak1 man1 is it not so8  ,and      
,talisso answered1 with a peal of       
orgulous laughter3 ,restless as the sea2
 insatiable as the grave4  ,how then1   
,lord1 said the ,angel1 shall this man's
 unrest and hunger be stayed8  ,god     
spoke and said3 ,fill his mouth with    
dust4  ,then the ,angel took a handful  
of dust and said to ,talisso3 ,open thy 
mouth and eat4  ,talisso cried aloud1 ,i
 will not eat4  ,open thy mouth1 said   
the ,angel sternly4  ,my mouth ,i will  
not open1 replied ,talisso4  ,thereupon 
the ,angel caught him by the hair1 and  
plucked his head backward till his      
throat made a knotted white ridge above 
the neck1 and as ,talisso opened his    
mouth1 shrieking blasphemies and        
laughing with frantic rage1 the ,angel  
filled it with dust4  ,talisso fell     

backwards1 thrusting with his feet and  
thrashing the ground with his hands2 his
 crown fell from his head and rolled    
away2 his face grew set and white2 and  
then he lay straight and rigid4  ,hast  
thou filled his mouth8  ,his mouth1     
,lord1 is filled1 the ,angel answered4  
,this was the dream of ,desiderius4     
,when citizens came running to the      
palace1 and the ,archbishop learned how 
the gates had been surprised and the    
castle taken1 he lost no time in casting
 about what he should do4  ,he sent     
messengers to summon the ,council of the
 ,elders1 and bade his men-at-arms fall 
into array4  ,then he hastened to the   
,high ,church1 and1 after a brief prayer
 before the altar1 girt on the great    
sword of ,st4 ,victor1 threw over his   
purple cassock the white mantle of the  
,saint1 and putting on his head a winged
 helm of iron1 made his way to the      
castle where ,talisso awaited his       
capture4  ,stay you here1 he said to his
 men-at-arms when they reached the      

portals1 and if by ,god's blessing work 
fall to your hands to do1 do it         
doughtily and with right good will4  ,up
 the high hall of the castle1 through   
the groups of lounging ,avars he went1  
with great strides and eyes burning1 to 
the dais where ,talisso sat apart in the
 royal chair4  ,ha6 well met1 ,lord     
,archbishop1 cried the dethroned ,king1 
springing to his feet at the sight of   
him4  ,well met1 ,talisso1 replied      
,desiderius in a loud voice4  ,with no  
more ado ,i now tell thee that for thee 
there is but one end4  ,thy mouth must  
be filled with dust4  ,as he spoke1     
,desiderius flung back his mantle and   
drew the holy sword4 ,heaving it aloft  
he struck mightily at ,talisso4  ,from  
the ,king's helmet glanced the keen     
brand1 and descending to the shoulder   
shore away the plates of iron1 and bit  
the flesh4  ,once more the great sword  
was swung up1 for ,desiderius neither   
heard nor heeded the cry and rush of the
 ,avars2 but or ever the stroke could   

fall ,desiderius saw the ,angel of      
,essalona by his side and felt his hand 
restraining the blade2 and at the same  
instant the figure before him1 the      
figure of the ,king ,orgulous1 grew dim 
and hazy1 and wavered1 and broke like   
smur blown along a wooded hillside1 and 
vanished from his gaze4  ,a little truer
 stroke1 said the ,angel1 and thou hadst
 slain thyself1 for of a truth the man  
thou wast slaying was none other than   
thyself2 as it is1 thou art hurt more   
than need was--for the shoulder of the  
,archbishop was bare1 and the blood     
streamed from it4  ,bewildered at these 
words1 ,desiderius gazed about to see if
 the high hall and the ,avars were but  
the imagery of a dream4  ,but there in  
front of him stood the dwarfish tribe1  
with naked brands and battle-axes4      
,these1 when they looked on his face1   
raised a hoarse cry of terror1 for they 
too had beheld ,talisso1 how at a blow  
of the magic sword he had fallen and    
perished even from the vision of men1   

and now they saw that he who had slain  
the ,king was himself the ,king4        
,howling and clamouring1 they broke from
 the hall and fled into the street2 and 
there the men-at-arms did right         
willingly and doughtily the work which  
thus came to their hands4  ,of that     
fierce and uncouth robber horde1 which  
rode to ,sarras two hundred strong1     
scarce two score saw ,danube water      
again4   ,when ,desiderius knew for a   
surety that the natural man within him  
was verily that ,king wicked and        
orgulous1 and understood that the sins  
of that evil ,king were the sins he     
himself would have committed but for the
 saving grace of ,god1 a great awe fell 
upon him1 and he was abashed with a     
grievous dread lest the ,king ,orgulous 
were not really dead and done with1 but 
were sleeping still1 like the ,kings of 
old legend1 in some dusky cavern of his 
nature1 ready to awake and break forth  
with sword and fire4  ,gladly would he  
have withdrawn to the solitude of the   

little convent on the beetling crag1 far
 from the temptations of power and the  
splendour and tumult of life2 but the   
same answer was given to him now as had 
been given to him of old3 ,one of thy   
vows was entire obedience1 and the grace
 of ,god is sufficient for thee4        
,the ,journey of ,rheinfrid  ,on the    
green skirts of the ,forest of ,arden   
there was a spot which the windings of  
the ,avon stream had almost made into an
 island1 and here in the olden time the 
half-savage herdsmen of ,king ,ethelred 
kept vast droves of the royal swine4    
,the sunny loops of the river cut       
clearings on the east and south and     
west1 but on the north the ,forest lay  
dense and dark and perilous4  ,for in   
those ancient days wolves still prowled 
about the wattled folds of the little   
settlement of ,wolverhampton1 and       
,birmingham was only the rude homestead 
of the ,beormingas1 a cluster of beehive
 huts fenced round with a stockade in   
the depths of the woods4  ,among the    

swineherds of the ,king there was one   
named ,eoves1 and one day1 while        
wandering through the glades of great   
oaks on this edge of the ,forest1 he saw
 three beautiful women who came towards 
him singing a song more strange and     
sweet than he had ever heard4  ,he told 
his fellows1 and the story spread far   
and wide4  ,some said that the three    
beautiful women were three goddesses of 
the old pagan world1 and thought ,eoves 
had acted very foolishly in not speaking
 to them4  ,others said they might have 
been the ,three ,fates1 in whose hands  
are the lives of men1 and the joy of    
their lives1 and the sorrow they must   
endure1 and the death which is the end  
of their days2 and they thought that    
perhaps ,eoves had been wise to keep    
silence4  ,but when the holy ,bishop    
,egwin heard the tale1 he visited the   
place alone1 and in the first glimmer of
 the sunrise1 when all wild creatures   
are tame and the earth is most lovely to
 look upon1 he beheld the three         

beautiful women1 and he saw in a moment 
that they were the ,virgin ,mother ,mary
 and two heavenly handmaidens4  ,and our
 ,lady1 he used afterwards to say1 was  
more white-shining than lilies and more 
freshly sprung than roses1 and the      
savage forest was filled with the       
fragrance of ,paradise4  ,straightway   
the ,bishop sent his woodmen and had the
 aged oaks felled and the underwood     
cleared away2 and on the spot where the 
beautiful women had stood a fair church 
was built for the worship of the true   
,god1 and around it clustered the cells 
of an abbey of ,black ,monks4  ,in a    
little while people no longer spoke of  
the place by its old name1 but called it
 ,eovesholme1 because of the vision of  
,eoves4  ,now when more than three and a
 half centuries had gone by1 and        
,agelwyn the ,great-hearted was ,abbot1 
there was a ,saxon noble1 young and     
dissolute1 who had been stricken by the 
,yellow ,plague1 and1 after three days' 
sickness1 had been abandoned by his     

friends and followers in what seemed to 
be his last agony4  ,for the ,yellow    
,plague was a sickness so ghastly and   
dreadful that men called it the ,yellow 
,death1 and fled from it as swiftly as  
they might4  ,but in the dead and dark  
of the third night a beautiful ,child1  
crowned with roses and bearing in his   
hand a rose1 had come to the dying thane
 and said3 ,now mayest thou see that the
 best the world can give--call it by    
what name thou wilt and prize it at its 
utmost worth--is nothing more than      
these3 wind and smoke and a dream and a 
flower4  ,but though all have fled from 
thee and left thee to die alone in      
grievous plight1 this night thou shalt  
not die4  ,then he was bidden to rise on
 the morrow--for strength shall be given
 thee1 said the ,child--and travel with 
the sun westward till he came to the    
,abbey of ,egwin1 and there he must tell
 the ,abbot all that had befallen him4  
,and the good ,abbot will receive thee  
among his sons1 said the ,child2 and    

after that1 in a little while1 thou     
shalt go on a journey1 and then again in
 a little while shalt come to me4  ,on  
the morrow ,rheinfrid the thane rose    
from his bed hale and strong1 but his   
whole nature was changed2 and he made no
 more account of life and of all that   
makes life sweet--as honour and wealth  
and joy and use and the love of man and 
woman--than one makes of wind and smoke 
and a dream and a flower2 and all that  
he greatly desired was to undertake the 
journey which had been foretold1 and to 
see once more the ,child of the ,roses4 
,westward he rode with the sun and came 
at nightfall to the ,abbey of           
,eovesholme2 and there he told ,agelwyn 
the ,abbot the story of his wild life   
and his sickness and the service that   
had been laid upon him4  ,the ,abbot    
embraced him1 saying1 ,son1 welcome art 
thou to our house1 and thy home shall it
 be till the time comes for thy journey4
  ,for a whole year ,rheinfrid was a    
novice in the house1 and when the year  

had gone by he took the vows4  ,in the  
presence of the brotherhood he cast     
himself on the pavement before the high 
altar1 and the pall of the dead was laid
 over him1 and the monks sang the dirge 
of the dead1 for now he was indeed dying
 to this world4  ,and from his head they
 cut the long hair1 and clothed him in  
the habit of a monk1 and henceforth he  
was done with all earthly things and was
 one of themselves4  ,surely1 now1 he   
thought1 the time of my journey draws   
near4  ,but one year and a second and   
yet a third passed away1 and there came 
to him no call1 and he grew wearied with
 waiting1 and weariness begot sullenness
 and discontent1 and he questioned      
himself3 ,was it not a dream of sickness
 which deceived me8  ,an illusion of    
pain and darkness8 ,why should ,i waste 
my life within these walls8  ,but       
immediately afterwards he was filled    
with remorse1 and confessed his thoughts
 to the ,abbot4  ,have faith and        
patience1 my son1 said ,agelwyn4        

,consider the many years ,god waited for
 thee1 and grew not impatient with thy  
delay4  ,when ,his good time comes thou 
shalt of a certainty set out on thy     
journey4  ,so for a while ,rheinfrid    
ceased to repine1 and served faithfully 
in the ,abbey4   ,in the years which    
followed1 ,william the ,norman came into
 these parts and harried whole shires on
 account of the rebels and broken men   
who haunted the great roads which ran   
through the ,forest4  ,cheshire and     
,shropshire1 ,stafford and ,warwick were
 wasted with fire and sword4  ,and      
crowds naked and starving--townsmen and 
churls1 men young and old1 maidens and  
aged crones1 women with babes in their  
arms and little ones at their           
knees--came straggling into ,eovesholme1
 fleeing most sorrowfully from the      
misery of want4  ,in the little town    
they lay1 indoors and out1 and it was   
now that the ,abbot got himself the name
 of the ,great-hearted4  ,for he gave   
his monks orders that all should be fed 

and cared for2 and daily from his own   
table he sent food for thirty wanderers 
whom he named his guests1 and daily in  
memory of the love of ,christ he washed 
the feet of twelve others1 and never    
shrank from the unhappy lepers among    
them4  ,but for all his care the people 
died lamentably from grief and          
sickness--on no day fewer than five or  
six between prime and compline2 and     
these poor souls were buried by the     
brethren4  ,of the little children that 
were left to the mothering of the east  
wind1 some were adopted by the canons   
and priests of the ,abbey church1 and   
others by the monks4  ,in his eagerness 
to help and solace1 the ,abbot even sent
 forth messengers to bring in the       
fugitives to refuge4  ,now on a day that
 ,rheinfrid went out on this work of    
mercy1 he met at a crossway a number of 
peasants fleeing before a dozen ,norman 
men-at-arms4  ,he raised his arm and    
called to them to make a stand1 but they
 were too much terrified to heed him4   

,then he saw that one of the soldiers   
had seized by the hair a fair ,saxon    
woman with a babe at her bosom1 and with
 a great cry he bade him let her go1 for
 his blood was hot within him as he     
thought of the ,saxon woman who had     
carried him in her arms and suckled him 
when he was but such a little child4    
,but the ,norman only laughed and turned
 the point of his sword against the     
monk4  ,then awoke the long line of     
thanes slumbering in wild caves and dark
 ways of his soul1 and with a mighty    
drive of his fist he struck the         
man-at-arms between the eyes1 so that he
 fell like a stone4  ,with savage curses
 the knave's comrades rushed in against 
the monk1 but ,rheinfrid caught up the  
,norman's sword1 and with his grip on   
the hilt of it his old skill in         
war-craft came back to him1 and he      
carried himself like a thane of the old 
,sea-wolves1 and the joy of battle      
danced in his eyes4  ,ill was it then   
for those marauders4  ,one of them he   

clove through the iron cap2 the neck of 
another he severed with a sweep of the  
bitter blade4  ,and now that he was     
fighting he remembered his calling1 and 
with a clear voice he chanted the great 
psalm of the man who has sinned3        
,miserere mei ,deus--,have mercy on me1 
,o ,god1 according to ,thy              
loving-kindness2 according unto the     
multitude of ,thy tender mercies blot   
out my transgressions4  ,the strength of
 ten was in his body1 and verse by verse
 he laid the ,normans low1 till of the  
troop no more than two were left4       
,these were falling back before him as  
he pressed onward chanting his          
,miserere1 when a body of horsemen rode 
up and drew rein to watch the issue4    
,by the ,splendour of ,god6 cried the   
leader1 as he glanced at the woman and  
scanned the number of the dead tumbled  
across the road1 it is a ,man6          
,rheinfrid looked up at the new comer1  
and saw a gigantic1 ruddy-faced man of  
forty1 clad in chain mail and wearing a 

circlet of gold about his massive head4 
,at once he felt sure that he was face  
to face with the ,master of ,england4   
,still he kept his sword's point raised 
for another attack1 and with a quiet    
frankness met the ,conqueror's imperious
 gaze4  ,ha1 monk6 hast thou no fear of 
me8 cried ,william1 frowning4  ,lord    
,king1 hast thou no fear of ,god8       
,rheinfrid retorted4  ,for a moment the 
,king's haughty eyes blazed with wrath1 
but ,william ever loved a strong man and
 dauntless1 and he laughed gaily3 ,nay1 
thou hast slain enough for one day2 let 
us cry truce1 and tell me of what house 
thou comest4  ,so ,rheinfrid spoke to   
the ,king about ,eovesholme1 and the    
,abbot1 and the harbouring of the       
miserable fugitives1 and told the tale  
of his own fighting that day4  ,and the 
great ,norman was well pleased1 and     
afterwards he gave ,agelwyn the custody 
of ,winchcombe ,abbey when the abbot of 
that house fell under his displeasure4  
,as for ,rheinfrid he took the woman and

 her babe into the town2 and many others
 he rescued and succoured1 but he       
neither slew nor smote any man          
thereafter4  ,now for eight long years  
,rheinfrid lived in the quiet of the    
cloister1 striving to be patient and to 
await ,god's own time2 and his daily    
prayer was that of the ,psalmist3 ,how  
long wilt ,thou forget me1 ,o ,lord8    
,for ever8  ,how long wilt ,thou hide   
,thy face from me8  ,in the ninth year1 
after long sickness1 the soul of        
,agelwyn passed out of the shadow of    
this flesh unto the clemency of ,god1   
and shortly after his death a weariness 
of well-doing and a loathing of the dull
 days of prayer beset ,rheinfrid2 and   
voices of the joy of life called to him 
to strip off his cowl and flee from his 
living tomb4  ,as he knelt struggling   
with the temptation the little ,child   
crowned with roses stood beside him1    
looking at him with sad reproachful     
eyes4 ,couldst thou not be patient a    
little while8 he asked4  ,a little      

while6 exclaimed ,rheinfrid2 see6       
twelve1 thirteen1 long years have gone  
by1 and is that a little while8  ,but   
the ,child answered gravely3 ,an evil   
thing is impatience with the delays of  
,god1 to whom one day is as a thousand  
years1 and a thousand years as one day4 
,and ,rheinfrid knew not what reply to  
make1 and as he hesitated the ,child    
began to fade away4  ,do not go1 do not 
go yet1 he cried2 grant me at least one 
prayer--that ,i shall see thee again at 
the time ,i shall have most need of     
thee4  ,and the ,child smiled and       
answered3 ,thou shalt see me4  ,and the 
vision disappeared1 but the fragrance of
 the roses lingered long in the little  
cell4   ,then was ,walter the ,norman   
made ,abbot1 and forthwith he began to  
build a vast and beautiful minster1 the 
fame of which should be rumoured through
 all the land4  ,speedily he emptied the
 five great chests filled with silver   
which ,agelwyn had left1 and then there 
set in a dearth of timber and stone and 

money1 but the ,abbot bethought him of a
 device for escaping from his           
difficulties4  ,he took into his counsel
 the wise monks ,hereman and ,rheinfrid1
 because they had both travelled through
 many shires1 and he entrusted to them  
the shrine containing the relics of ,st4
 ,egwin1 and bade them go on a          
pilgrimage from one rich city to        
another1 making known their need1       
exhorting the people to charity1 and    
gathering gifts of all kinds for the    
building of the minster4  ,so with      
lay-brothers to serve them and a horse  
to carry the holy shrine1 the monks     
began their journey1 and1 singing joyful
 canticles1 the brotherhood accompanied 
them with cross and banners and burning 
tapers1 and set them well on their way  
beyond the river4  ,now think of        
,rheinfrid and ,hereman traversing the  
wild ,england of those olden times4     
,one day they were wandering in the     
depths of the woods2 on another they    
were moving along some neglected ,roman 

road1 through swamps and quagmires4     
,now they were passing hastily through  
the ruins of some ,saxon thorpe which   
had been burned by the ,normans1 or     
lodging for the night as guests at some 
convent or priory1 or crossing a        
dangerous river-ford1 or making a brief 
stay in a busy town to preach and       
exhibit the shrine of the saint1 so that
 the diseased and suffering might be    
touched by the miraculous relics4  ,and 
all along their journey they gathered   
the offerings which the people brought  
them4  ,this1 surely1 thought           
,rheinfrid1 is the journey appointed me1
 and his spirit was at last peaceful and
 contented4  ,now in the third week of  
their pilgrimage they came to a wide    
moor which they had to cross4  ,a heavy 
white mist lay on the lonely waste1 and 
they had not gone far among the heath   
and grey boulders before ,rheinfrid1    
absorbed in prayer1 found himself       
separated from his companions4  ,he     
called aloud to them by their names1 but

 no one answered him4  ,this way and    
that he wandered1 still crying aloud1   
and hoping to discover some trace of the
 faint path which led over the moor4    
,suddenly he came to the brink of a vast
 chasm1 the depth of which was hidden by
 the mist4  ,it was a terrible place and
 he thanked ,god that he had not come   
thither in the darkness of the night4   
,as he gazed anxiously on all sides1    
wondering what he should do next1 he    
perceived through the vapour a tall dark
 figure4  ,approaching it1 he saw that  
it was a high stone cross1 and he       
murmured gratefully1 ,here ,i am safe4  
,the foot of ,thy cross is an           
ever-lasting refuge4  ,as he ascended   
the rough granite steps1 he noticed how 
wonderfully the cross was sculptured1   
with a vine running up the shaft1 and   
birds and small wild creatures among the
 vine-leaves1 and he was able to read1  
in the centre1 words from a famous old  
poem which he knew3    ,rood is my name2
 long ago ,i bore a goodly ,king2       

trembling1       dripping with blood4   
,as he read them he became aware that   
some one had come out of the mist and   
was standing near him4  ,in the darkness
 the danger is great1 said the stranger2
 another step would have carried thee   
over the brink2 and none who have fallen
 therein have ever returned4  ,but the  
wind is rising1 and this mist will      
speedily be lifted4  ,while he was yet  
speaking a great draught of air drove   
the mist before it1 and shifted and     
lifted it1 and rolled it like carded    
wool1 and in front all was clear1 but   
the light was of an iron-grey           
transparency1 and ,rheinfrid saw into   
the depths of the chasm into which he   
had well-nigh fallen4  ,far down below  
lay the jagged ridges and ghastly       
abysses of a gigantic crater1 the black 
walls of which were so steep that it was
 impossible to climb them4  ,smoke and  
steam rose in incessant puffs from the  
innermost pit of the crater and trailed 
along the floor and about the rocky     

spikes and jagged ridges4  ,then1 as    
,rheinfrid gazed1 his face grew pale1   
and he turned to the stranger4  ,what   
are these1 he asked1 men1 or little     
statues of men1 or strangely shaped     
rocks8  ,they are living men and women1 
said the stranger4  ,they seem as small 
as images1 said ,rheinfrid4  ,they are  
very far distant from us1 replied the   
stranger1 although we see them so       
clearly4  ,there seem to be hundreds of 
them standing in crowds1 said           
,rheinfrid4  ,there are thousands and   
hundreds of thousands1 said the         
stranger4  ,and they do not move2 they  
are motionless as stone2 they do not    
even seem to breathe4  ,they are        
waiting1 said the stranger4  ,their     
faces are all turned upward2 they are   
all staring in one way4  ,they are      
watching1 said the stranger4  ,why are  
they watching8 asked ,rheinfrid2 then   
looking up into the iron-grey air in the
 same direction as the faces of the     
people in the crater2 ,what huge ball is

 that hanging in the sky above them8    
,it is a globe of polished stone--the   
stone adamant1 which of all stones is   
the hardest4  ,why do they gaze at it so
 steadfastly8  ,not hard to say1 replied
 the stranger4  ,every hundred years a  
little blue bird passes by1 flying      
between them and the globe1 and as it   
passes it touches the stone with the tip
 of its wing4  ,on the last day of the  
hundredth year the people gather and    
watch with eager eyes all day for the   
passing of the bird1 and while they     
watch they do not suffer4  ,now this is 
the last hour of the last day of the    
hundredth year1 and you see how they    
gaze4  ,but why do they watch to see the
 bird8  ,each time the bird passes it   
touches the stone1 and every hundred    
years it will thus touch it1 till the   
stone be utterly worn away4  ,ten       
thousand ages1 and yet again ten        
thousand1 and it will not have been worn
 away1 said ,rheinfrid4  ,but when it   
has been worn away1 what then8  ,why1   

then1 said the stranger1 ,eternity will 
be no nearer to its end than it is now4 
,but see6 see6  ,rheinfrid looked1 and  
beheld a little blue bird flash across  
the huge ball of glimmering adamant1    
brush it with the tip of a single       
feather1 and dart onward4  ,and down in 
the crater all the faces were turned    
away again1 and the crowd fell into such
 confusion as an autumn gale makes among
 the fallen leaves in a spinney2 and out
 of the innermost pit the smoke and     
steam rose in clouds1 till only the     
jagged ridges were visible2 and a long  
cry of a myriad voices deadened by the  
deep distance rose like the terrible    
ghost of a cry from the abyss4  ,and    
this was one of the ,seven ,cries of the
 ,world4  ,for the ,seven ,cries of the 
,world are these3 the ,cry of the ,blood
 of ,abel1 and the ,cry of the ,deluge  
of ,waters1 and the ,cry for the        
,first-born of ,egypt1 and the ,cry of  
the ,cities of the ,plain1 and the ,cry 
of ,rachel in ,ramah1 and the ,cry in   

the darkness of the ninth hour1 and1    
more grievous than any of these1 the    
,cry of the ,doom of the ,pit4  ,truly1 
said ,rheinfrid1 shivering1 one day is  
as a thousand years in the sight of the 
,lord4   ,come with me1 and ,i will     
guide thee from this place1 said the    
stranger4  ,and he led the way along the
 brink of the gulf till they came to a  
bridge1 high and narrow and fragile1    
glittering like glass2 but when         
,rheinfrid touched it he perceived it   
was built of ice1 and beneath it ran a  
fierce river of fire1 and they felt the 
heat of the river on their faces1 and   
the ice of the bridge was dissolving    
away4  ,how shall ,i pass this without  
falling8 asked ,rheinfrid4  ,follow in  
my steps1 said the stranger1 and all    
will be well4  ,he led the way on the   
slippery ice-work of the bridge1 and in 
great fear and doubt ,rheinfrid         
followed2 but when they reached the     
crown of the arch the stranger threw    
aside his cloak and spread six mighty   

wings1 and sprang from the bridge to the
 peak of a high mountain far beyond the 
burning river4  ,the bridge cracked and 
swayed1 and pieces broke away from the  
icy parapet4  ,with a shriek of terror  
,rheinfrid sank down1 and called upon   
,god to help him4  ,then as he prayed he
 felt wings growing on his shoulders1   
and a terrible eager joy and dread      
possessed him1 for he felt the ice of   
the bridge melting away1 and the water  
of the melting ice was splashing like   
rain on the river of fire1 and as each  
drop fell a little puff of white steam  
arose from the place where it fell4     
,so1 unable to wait till the wings had  
grown full1 he rose to his feet1 and    
attempted to follow the ,angel4  ,but   
his wings were too weak to bear him1 and
 he fell clinging to the bridge1 which  
shook beneath him4  ,once more he       
prayed2 once more his impatience urged  
him to rise2 and once more he fell4     
,and the melted ice rained hissing into 
the river of fire1 and the quick whiffs 

of white vapour came up from the        
surface4  ,then he committed himself to 
,god's keeping1 and waited in meekness  
and fortitude1 saying1 ,whether we live 
or we die we are in ,thy charge1 and it 
seemed to him that1 so long as it was   
,god's will1 it mattered not at all what
 happened--whether the bridge crumbled  
away1 dissolving like a rainbow in the  
clouds1 or whether his body were        
engulfed in the torrent of burning4     
,then straightway1 as he submitted      
himself thus1 his wings grew large and  
strong1 and he felt the power of them   
lifting him to his feet1 and with what  
seemed no more than the effort of a wish
 he sprang from narrow way of ice and   
stood beside the ,angel on the mountain4
  ,hadst thou not been twice impatient  
in the cloister1 said the ,angel1 thy   
wings would not have twice failed thee  
on the bridge4  ,now1 look around and   
see6   ,who shall tell the loveliness of
 the land on which ,rheinfrid now gazed 
from the mountain8  ,to breathe the     

clear shining air was in itself         
beatitude4  ,he saw angelic figures and 
heard the singing of angels in the      
heavenly gardens glittering far below1  
and he longed to fly down to their      
blessed companionship4  ,suddenly over  
the tree-tops of a golden glade he      
descried a starry globe which shone like
 chrysoprase1 and round and round it a  
little blue bird flew joyously4  ,and so
 swiftly it flew that hardly had it gone
 before it had returned again4          
,rheinfrid turned to the ,angel to      
question him1 but the ,angel1 who was   
aware of his thoughts1 said1 ,yes1 it is
 the same globe1 only we see it now from
 the other side4  ,each circle that the 
bird makes is a hundred years2 for five 
hundred already have you been here1 but 
you must now return4  ,then the ,angel  
touched the monk's head1 and ,rheinfrid 
closed his eyes1 and in an instant it   
seemed to him as though he were awaking 
from a long sleep4  ,cold and rigid were
 his limbs1 and as he tried to sit up   

each movement made them ache4  ,he found
 that he had been lying under an aged   
oak4  ,he rubbed his hands together for 
warmth1 and a white lichen which had    
overgrown them peeled off in long       
threads4  ,a heavy white beard1 tangled 
with grey moss1 covered his breast1 and 
the hair of his head1 white and matted  
with green tendrils1 had grown about his
 body4  ,slowly and painfully he moved  
from tree to tree till he reached a     
broad road1 and saw before him a bridge1
 and beyond the river a fair town       
clustered on the higher ground4  ,so    
strange a town he had never beheld      
before--such a town as one sees in a    
foreign land1 built with quaint roofs   
and gables and curiously coloured4  ,as 
he crossed the bridge he met a woman who
 stared at him in amazement4  ,he raised
 his head to speak1 but he had lost the 
power of utterance4  ,the woman waited2 
and at last with a feeble stammering    
speech he asked her the name of the     
place4  ,she shook her head and said she

 did not understand his words1 and with 
a look of pity she went on her way4     
,then down to the bridge came an urchin1
 and ,rheinfrid repeated his question4  
,this is ,eovesholme1 said the lad4     
,that cannot be1 said ,rheinfrid1 for it
 is little more than twice seven days   
since ,i left ,eovesholme1 and this     
place is noway like the place you name4 
,nay1 but it is ,eovesholme1 replied the
 lad1 and you are one of the monks who  
used to be here before the ,king pulled 
down the ,abbey4  ,pulled down the      
,abbey6  ,hath ,king ,william pulled    
down the ,abbey8 ,rheinfrid asked in    
bewilderment4  ,nay1 it is bluff ,king  
,hal who has pulled the ,abbey down4    
,come1 and you shall see4  ,the lad took
 ,rheinfrid by the hand and led him     
through the streets till they came to   
the ruins4  ,only one beautiful         
sculptured arch was left standing1 but  
,rheinfrid had never seen it before4    
,they passed through and stood among a  
litter of stones1 tumbled drums of      

pillars and fragments of carved         
mouldings and capitals4  ,rheinfrid     
recognised the spot4  ,the land was the 
same1 and the river1 and the far hills1 
but nearly all the forest had been      
cleared1 and the ,abbey had vanished4   
,what had happened to him and to them8  
,hast thou where to pass the night1 old 
father8 the lad asked4  ,rheinfrid shook
 his head sorrowfully4  ,then ,i will   
show thee a place1 he said4  ,and again 
he took ,rheinfrid by the hand1 and let 
him among the ruins till they came to a 
flight of stone steps which led down    
into the crypt of the minster4  ,these  
they descended1 and there was a dim     
light in the place1 and ,rheinfrid's    
heart beat quickly1 for he knew the     
pillars and vaulted roofs and walls of  
this undercroft4  ,here you may rest    
peacefully and sleep well1 said the     
urchin2 no one will venture here to     
disturb your slumber4  ,sorrow be far   
from thee1 little son1 said ,rheinfrid1 
speaking he perceived that it was the   

,child1 and that the ,child's head was  
crowned with roses and that he carried a
 rose in his hand4  ,then the aged monk 
sank on the cold stones of his old      
minster1 faint and happy1 for he knew   
now that he had finished his journey4   
,but the ,child touched ,rheinfrid's    
brow with the rose he carried1 and the  
old man fell asleep1 and all the crypt  
was dark4     ,lighting the ,lamps  ,now
 that it was the cool of the day 7when  
,god walked in ,paradise71 and the      
straggling leaves of the limes were     
swaying in the fresh stream of the      
breeze1 and the book was finished--this 
very book--and at last1 after many busy 
evenings ,i was free to do as ,i        
pleased1 ,w4 ,v4 and ,i slipped away on 
a quiet stroll before bedtime4  ,it was 
really very late for a little           
girl--nearly nine o'clock2 but when one 
is a little girl a walk between sunset  
and dark is like a ramble in fairyland2 
and after the heat of the day the air   
was sweet and pleasant1 and in the west 

there still lingered a beautiful        
afterglow4  ,we went a little way in the
 direction of the high trees of ,caen   
,wood1 where1 you know1 ,william the    
,conqueror had a hunting lodge2 and as  
we passed under the green fringes of the
 rowans and the birches which overhung  
the pathway1 it was delightful to think 
that perchance over this very ground on 
which we were walking the burly ,master 
of ,england may have galloped in chase  
of the tall deer4  ,he loved them as if 
he were their father1 said ,w4 ,v41     
glancing up at me with a laugh4  ,my    
history book says that4  ,but it wasn't 
very nice to kill them if he loved them1
 was it1 father8  ,we turned down the   
new road they are making4  ,it runs     
quite into the fields for some distance1
 and then goes sharp to the right4  ,a  
pleasant smell of hay was blowing up the
 road1 and when we reached the angle we 
saw two old stacks and the beginning of 
a new one2 and the next field had been  
mown and was dotted with haycocks4  ,on 

the half-finished road a steam roller   
stood1 with its tarpaulin drawn over it 
for the night4  ,in the field1 along the
 wooden fence1 some loads of dross had  
been shot between the haycocks2 lengths 
of sod had been stripped off the soil   
and thrown in a heap1 and planks had    
been laid down for the wheelbarrows4  ,a
 rake1 which some haymaker had left1    
stood planted in the ground1 teeth      
uppermost2 beside it a labourer's barrow
 lay overturned4  ,a few yards away a   
thick elderberry bush was growing dim in
 the twilight1 and its bunches of       
blossom looked curiously white and      
spectral4  ,i think even ,w4 ,v4 felt it
 strange to see this new road so        
brusquely invading the ancient fields4  
,i looked across the frank natural acres
 7as if they were a sort of wild        
creature71 stretching away with their   
hedgerows and old trees to the blue     
outline of the hills on the horizon1 and
 wondered how much longer one might see 
the rose-red of sunset showing through  

interlaced branches1 or dark knots of   
coppice silhouetted against the         
grey-green breadths of tranquil         
twilight4  ,when we went a little       
further we caught sight among the trees 
of some out-buildings of the farm4      
,what a lost1 pathetic look they had6   
,thinking of the stories in my book1 it 
seemed to me that the scene before me   
was a figure of the change which took   
place when the life we know invaded and 
absorbed the strange mediaeval life     
which we know no longer1 and which it is
 now so difficult to realise4   ,slowly 
the afterglow faded2 when you looked    
carefully for a star1 here and there a  
little speck of gold could be found in  
the heavens2 the birds were all in their
 nests1 head under wing2 white and grey 
moths were beginning to flutter to and  
fro4  ,suddenly over the fields the     
sound of church-bells floated to us4    
,is that the ,angelus1 father8 asked ,w4
 ,v4  ,no1 dear2 ,i think it must be the
 ringers practising4  ,if it had been   

the ,angelus1 would ,st4 ,francis have  
stood still to say the prayer8  ,i think
 he would have knelt down to say it4    
,that would be more like ,st4 ,francis4 
,and would ,william the ,conqueror8     
,why1 no2 ,i fancy he would have taken  
it for the curfew bell4  ,they do still 
ring the curfew bell in some places1    
don't they1 father8  ,oh yes2 in several
 places2 but1 of course1 they don't     
cover up their fires4  ,i like to hear  
of those old bells2 don't you1 father8  
,as we reached the end of the new road  
we saw the man lighting the lamp there2 
and we watched him going quickly from   
one post to another1 leaving a little   
flower of fire wherever he stopped4     
,all was very quiet1 and1 as he went    
down the street1 we could hear the sound
 of his footsteps growing fainter and   
fainter in the distance4  ,all our      
streets1 you must know1 are lined with  
trees1 trees both in the gardens and on 
the side-walks1 and the lamps glittered 
among the leaves and branches like so   

many stars4  ,when we passed under them 
we noticed how the light tinged the     
foliage that was nearest with a greenish
 ash-colour1 almost like the undersides 
of aspen-leaves4  ,isn't it just like a 
fairy village8 asked ,w4 ,v4   ,on our  
way down our own street ,i pointed      
silently to the ,forest4  ,high over the
 billowy outline of the darkened        
tree-tops the church of the ,oak-men was
 clear against the weather-gleam4  ,w4  
,v4 nodded3 ,i expect all the ,oak boys 
and girls have said1 ',god bless this   
house from thatch to floor1' and gone to
 bed long ago4  ,since she heard the    
story of the ,guardians of the ,door1   
that has been her own favourite prayer  
at bed-time4  ,thinking of the lighting 
of the lamps after she had been safely  
tucked in1 ,i tried to make her a little
 song about it4  ,i don't think she will
 like it as much as she liked the actual
 lighting of the lamps1 but in years to 
come it may remind her of that          
delightful spectacle4     ,,the         

,,lamplighter      ,from lamp to lamp1  
from street to street1     ,he speeds   
with faintlier echoing feet1       ,a   
pause--a glint of light6   ,and1 lamp by
 lamp1 with stars he marks his round4   
,so ,love1 when least of ,love we dream1
     ,comes in the dusk with magic      
gleam4       ,a pause--a touch--so      
slight6   ,and life with clear celestial
 lights is crowned4