The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1868-05-28
oGIaC1EaEANTx, III z,
THE GRAY MONK.
ICONTINUED.I I

over Tue TeSG Oh tu6 monastery i
could not fail to be struck with the
air Of dilapidation and decay it pre-
sented.
"You may we'll wonder at what
you see," he remarked, noticing my
surprise. "Your illness has ont-
ed you from hitherto observing what
strikes stranger at once upon enter
ing the monastery of the Gray
Monks. It is cursed of Heaven" he
continued, solemnly, "for deed of
treachery and blood, perpetrated by
one of the brethren, many, many
years ago. Since then nothing has
prospered here. Repairs have been
commenced, but have always been
stopped from some cause or other,
and now they are never attempted.
The building must perish, if such is
the will of Heaven. In the meantime,
l will do what I can to preserve the
library and the collection of rare
manuscripts intact. No! never again
shall this monastery flourish! It is
usually only those who have commit
ted great crimes, who resort hither to
life of austerity to expiate them.
But do not look upon me as one of
their number; for though, in the
sight of Heaven, I am as foul sim
ner as any, yet have I been preserved
from open, heinous transgression.
1t is my vocation here to minister to
those who have. Hence our strict
rules, our solitary vigils.
saw the subject was painful
one, and did not choose to pursue it
fTIr ri hnr okA,-x II
longed to fathom, but the time did
not seem to have arrived; perhaps,
before left, might hear the whole
story. resolved upon harmless
subterfuge-to remain q day or two
longer. and ungratefully declined
getting we'll as soon as might other
wise have done, had I been in O hur-
ry to leave my mountain retreat.
The monastery consisted of but
two stories, as is the case generally
with buildings erected upon great
heights. After exploring in the
principal part, we descended into the
main corridor. Looking rohind me,
recognized the door which led to
the refectory, and still further off
another fight of stairs, which appear
ed to lead into the upper story of the
building. had not yet traced the
whole of this passage. My guide
having left me at the library door, to
follow my own devices until the din
ner-hour, 1 wandered along, deter
mined to see what was at the extreme
end of it. After winding about for
some distance, suddenly came to
its termination; here it branched out,
and became much broader. Upon
my left hand was O door, which
opened into the grounds of the mo-
mastery; to my right another flight
of stairs, leading to gallery, which
crossed the whole width of the pass
age. at either end of this gallery
was door, the one on the right
hand, the other on the left. I now
heard a soft football advancing be-
hind, and looking round, o little
startled, saw the Prior approaching.
He said, with some embarrassment,
which 1 could not help observing:
81 heard the direction you took, and
remembered that 1 had not showed
you the door which leads you to what
used to be the gardens. They are
now hardly worthy of that name; but
you may like to explore them" I
also felt confused, thinking he might
consider me inquisitive, and said,
apologetically:
"Pardon my curiosity, Father, it
seems uncalled for; but 1 was not,
frankly confess, at this moment think
ing of the gardens. I do feel inte
rested about yonder gallery; you did
not show it to me. ] am fond of ex
ploring." He turned shade paler.
but replied, in tone of assumed
cheerfulness:
"Ah! well--that can be left for to-
day. Come back with me to the
library. have rare Coptic manu-
script to show you" So he allured
me away. 1 forgot everything else
for time when conversing with him.
and the mysterious gallery passed
from my recollection. But in the
night, as l lay awake, listening to the
dismal moaning of the wind, to the
branches of the trees swaying back
wards and forwards, and striking
against my easement, Iagain thought
OF 1T, and was resolved to make one
more effort to visit it before my de-
parture.
The morning d.wned. wet and