Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1873-10-09

t she sighed, "but suppose the father
must have something"
. And accordingly she took it to the
: monk. dts not SO good as it has
+ been, but there's warmth in it yet
s and it cost a pretty penny when new.
Sand this all that you can spare
to the poor houseless strangersa" ask.
7 ed the monk.
= "Ah, indeed, good father said
| she, "and that will cause me many q
twinge of rheumatics Folks at my
age can't lie cold at night for nothing
"These poor strangers" said the
monk, care as aged as yourself, and
have lost everything"
: But as all he had said had no effect
in moving the widows compassion, he
, departed, and knocked at the door of
her neighbor. Here he told the same
tale, which met with very different
} hearing This widow was one of
those liberal souls whose possessions
always make them feel uneasy unless
they are being accepted, or used, Or
borrowed by some one else; and she
blessed herself, that thanks to the
baroness, she had new blanket fit
to lend to the king himself, and only
desired to know what else she had
with which she could serve the poor
strangers, and requite the charities of
the brotherhood.
The monk confessed that all the
slender stock of household goods in
the monastery was in use. and one af-
ter another he accepted the loan of al
most everything the widow had. AS
she gave them he put them out through
the door, saying that he had a messen-
ger outside; and having promised
that everything should be duly restor-
ed on the morrow, he departed, leav-
ing the widow little else than the
chair in which she was to pass the
night.
; When the monk had gone the
storm ragged with greater fury than
before, and at last one terrible flash
Of lightning struck the widows house,
and, though it did not hurt the old
women, it set fire to the roof, and both
cottages were soon ablaze. Now, as
the terrified old creatures hobbled out
into the storm, they met the monk,
who, crying "Come to the monastery"
seized an arm of each, and hurried
them up the hill, TO such good pur-
pose did he help them that they SEEM
ed to fly, and arrived at the convent
gate they hardly new how.
Under shed by the wall were the
goods and chattels of the liberal wild
ow.
"Take back thine own, daughter
said the monk ''thy charity hath
brought its own reward"
"But the strangers, good father?"
said the perplexed widow.
"You are the strangers answered
the monk; "and what thy pity thought
meet to be spared for the unfortunate,
Heaven in thy misfortune hath spared
to thee" Then turning to the other
widow, he drew the old shawl from
beneath his frock, and gave it to her,
saying, 81 give you joy, dame that
this hath escaped the flames 1t is
not so good as it has been; but there
is warmth in it yet, and it cost pref
ty penny when new"
Full of confusion, the illiberal wild
ow took back her shawl, murmuring,
Lack -aday If l had but know it
was ourselves the good father meant"
The monk gave shrewd smile.
Gay, ay, it would have been differ
ent, | doubt not" said he; but accept
the lesson, my daughter, and when
next thou art called upon to help the
unfortunate, think that it is thine own
needs that would be served; and it
may be thou shalt judge better of
what thou canst spare"
AS he spoke, flash of lightning lit
up the ground where the monk stood,
making a vast creole about him in the
darkness of the night. In the bright
light his countenance appeared stern
and awful in its beauty, and when the
flash had past the monk had vanished
also
Furthermore, when the widows
sought shelter in the monastery, they
found that the brotherhood knew moth
ing of their strange visitor
About the tightest spot man
kan cit into IL WHARF he kant blame
o,-,, IoJ1,, b,t b,,n,o1e