The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-02-13
Pere GauCher'S Elixir,

"Taste, my good friend. Only taste, and then see what you think of ftp
 Drop by drop, as precise and pains taking as lapidary numbering string of pearls, the cure of Graveson poured out for me a thimbleful of certain precious liquid; a drauglt sparkling, warm, green, golden hued, and exquisite beyond the power of words drank and my very stomach was illuminated
 This liqueur is the glory of our Prov. ence," said the kindly priest, with look of triumph. 1t is nothing less than the famous elixir of Father Catcher, manu factured at the convent of Premontres, about two leagues from your present lodging at the mill. Isn't it worth all other chartreuses in the world2 If you would care to know how the wonder was discovered, think the story might amuse you."
 Sitting there in the priests house, in a sober little dining.room hung with the pictures of the seven stations of the cross, the windows embellished with starched white curtains resembling surplices in their purity, the good man told his story -teld 1t, spiced though it was with irreve- renee and lightly tinged with skepticism, after the childlike fashion of tale by Erasmus, or by Assoucy.
 Twenty years ago the monastery of the White Fathers-as the country people chose to style the order of the Premon. tres-had fallen through poverty into a state of dilapidation Pitiful to see. Not only the surrounding wall aad the m ain tower were crumbling into ruin, but the columns upholding the grass-grown clois. ter, were falling away, and the very saints were rolling out of their inches Not a whole window or a door that would stay closed in the establishment. Through the yard and into the chapel the rough winds from the river Rhone blew nnresisted, putting out the candies, breaking the lead around the window panes, scattering the holy water from its receptacle. Sadder than all it was to look up at the old bell tower, as lifeless as deserted pigeon house. The poor fathers, for want of money to buy bell, were obliged to sound their maths by striking together couple of paddles made of almond wood. Unfortunate Whiie Fathers can sec them still, in the procession of the Fete Dieu walk ing sadly along in their worn out vest ments, as pale and thin as men look whose common diet is lines and water melons, followed by Mon seigneur the Abbe, his proud head dropped in shame at having to expose to the pitiless sight of day moth-eaten mitre of soiled white woolen stuff, and tarnished cross of gold. When the kind hearted ladies belonging to the association saw these poor mo- ks pass, tears of pity came into their eyes, and the sturdy banner men, who beheld them nudged each other, whispering, Starlinss grow thin when they fly in docks together 1" The plain truth IS the impoverished White Fathers had about made up their minds that they would be forced to scatter, each search ing livelihood upon his own account.
 One day when this weighty question was under discussion in the chapter, it was announced to the prior that Brother Catcher asked leave to speak before the council. It is we'll here to inform you that Brother Catcher was the herdsnan of the convent. In other words his time was spent in lettering from one arcade to the other of the cloister, in attendance on two emaciated cows, content to browse upon the thin grass sprouting between the chinks of decaying pavement. Until he reached the age of twelve Catcher had been supported by a half.witted old aunt, living in the neighborhood of Baux. After that the monks took him, but spite of all their pains they had never been able to teach the poor creature how to do more than drive COWS and recite a batter noster. Even this devotional exer- else he rendered in Provencal Although obstinate and visionary, the lad devel. oped into fervent christian, rejoicing in his vest of haircloth, and, when need was, bestowing his own fagellations with sturdy arm, strengthened by firm conviction.
 When Catcher made his appearance in the hall of the chapter wearing his GUS. tomary doltish air, and scraping his foot by way of salutation to the assem bled brotherhood, the prior, the canons and the treasurer, began with one consent to laugh. Catcher, with his goats beard and his little foolish eyes, was quite in the habit of producing this effect SO the reception did not take him unduly by surprise.
 "My reverend fathers" he began, twisting rosary made of beads of olive wood between his huge awkward fingers, 1t Is we'll said that empty hogsheads give out the best sound. # you'll be- heve me, by dint of hammering my poor stupid brains for Q way to help our brotherhood out of trouble, I've struck upon amethod. You remember my poor Aunt Begon (heaven rest her soul, the old reprobate. She used to sing very naughty songs when she was in her cups). We'll, in her lifetime Aunt Begon learned more about the herbs and plants that grow upon the hillsides than the