Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1873-09-12
THE TWO WIDOWS.

A PLEASING STORY, WITH A GOOD MORAL.
ONCE on tune, two poor old widows
lived in the same hamlet and under the
same roof But though the cottages join
ed and one roof covered them, they had
each a separate dwelling; and although
they were alike in age and circumstances,
yet in other respects they were very differ
ent. For one dame was covetOus, though
she had little to save, and the other was
liberal, though she had little to give.
Now, on the rising ground opposite to
the widows cottages stood monastery,
where a few pious and charitable breth-
ren spent their time in prayer, labor and
good works. And with the aims of the
monks, and the kindness of neighbors
and because their wants were few, the old
women dwelt in tolerable comfort, and
had daily bread, and lay warm at night
Now one evening, when the covetous
old widow was having supper, there came
a knock at her door. Before she opened
it she hastily put away the remains of her
meal 'For," said she, sit is stormy
night and ten to one some belated vaga-
bond wants shelter; and when there are
victuals on the table every fool must be
asked to sup"
When, however she opened the door,
monk, with his cowl pulled over his head
to shelter him from the storm, stepped
into the cottage. Much disconnected at
having kept one of the brotherhood wait
ing, the widow loudly apologized, and
busted a chair for her reverend guest; but
the monk stopped her string Of regrets,
adding, "I fear / cut short your evening
meal my daughter"
"Now in the name ofillluck, how came
he to guess that?" thought the widow, as
with anxious civility she began to press
the monk to take some supper after his
walk; for the good woman always felt
Hospitality inclined toward any one who
was likely to return her kindness seven
fold.
The brother, however, refused to sup !;
and as he seated himself the widow look
ed sharply through her spectacles to see
if she could gather from any charitable
distention Of the folds of his trock,
whether loaf, bottle of cordial, or a
new winters cloak were most likely to
crown the visit No undue protuberance
being visible about the monks person,
she turned her eyes to his face and found
that her visitor was one Of the brother
hood whom she had not seen before. And
not only was his face unfamiliar-it was
utterly unlike the kindly but rough
countenances of her charitable patrons.
Not that she had never seen bOasted the
noble beauty, the chiseled and refined
features of the monk before her. And she
could not but notice that, although only
the rushlight Illuminated her room, and
though the monks cowl went far to shade
him even from that, yet bright light al
ways seemed to be on his face, making
his clear skin almost transparent. Her
curiosity must have been greatly stirred,
had not her prevailing passion of greed
made her more anxious to learn what he
brought than who he was.
cts a terrible night" quoth the monk
at length "Such tempest without only
gives point to the indoor comforts of the
wealthy; but it chills the very marrow OF
the poor and destitute'
''Ah, indeedp' shifted the widow with
shiver. "If it were not for the charity OF
good Christians what would poor folks
do for comfort on such an evening as
this?"
''Itwas that very thought, my daughter"
said the monk, with sudden earnestness
on his shining face, "that brought me
forth even now through the storm to your
cottage"
"Heaven reward you" cried the widow
fervently.
"Heaven does reward the charitable ~
renlied the monk. "To no truth do the
Scrintures bear such constant and unbro-
ken witness, even as it is written: He
that hath pity on the poor lendeth dnto
the Lord and look, what he layeth out
it shall be paid him again."
"What a blessed thing it must be to be
able to do good!" said the widow. pious-
ly, wishing in her heart that the holy man
would not delay to earn his recompense
MY daughter" said the monk, "that
blessing is not withheld from you. 1t is
to ask your help for those in greater need
than yourself that am come tonight
And forthwith the good brother began to
tell how two strangers had sought Shelter
at the monastery. Their house had been
struck by lightning and burned with all il
contained; and they, themselves, aged
poor and friendless, were exposed to the
fury of the storm. "Our house is a poor
one" continued the monk. 'The stran
gers lodging-room is already full, anC
we are quite without the means of max
inc these poor souls comfortable. You a
least have a sound roof over your head
and if YOU can spare one or two thing
for the night, they shall be returned tc
morrow, when some of our guests dc
part" Gl
The widow could hardly conceal he
vexation and disappointment. "Nov
dear heart, holy father" cried she, i
95@ x ffxes0erw }.1 .d4 fE