The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-10-16

InaC evening the D0ll OF St. b ldSluS
tolled long and loud. and funeral
mass was chanted in the lighted
chapel. And then all was still. But
the sentinels on the walls of the dis.
tant town noticed one lamp burning
till dawn again frightened over the
world. 1t was in the abbot's cham
Der, where two gray-haired men
prayed fervently for mercy to a part.
ing soul.
1t was glorious summer morning
in the year of grace, 1852. A faint
mist partially yelled the summit of
the Dobratsch, hiding tenderly the
riffs and scars in its abrupt sides;
the peaks of the great Alps rose
snowy line against the deep blue
sky. Birds sang in the woods, and
swallows darted merrily across the
clear still waters of the lake and
| round the old mud castle on its
northern bank. The sun cleaned
on the cross which crowned the tall
tower of the church, and stole in
the high windows, lighting up the
gilded affairs and the huge tombs of
departed Kevenhullers. Two young
gentlemen left the town of Villach,
walking with the brisk step that
characterizes the Briton all the world
over, and makes foreigners declare
that the sons of Albion make even
recreation a matter of business.
They were going to explore the ruins
of the great abbey of St. Blasius,
and, by detoar, to reach the little
town of Velden in time to catch the
steamer which was to take them
down to the lake.
"That was a gruesome story that
the landlord told us last night" said
the younger one. Gone reads of such
things, but never expects to find
traces of them in real life. Only
fancy" he went on, as they paused
amid heaps of dust and rubbish,
where here and there fragme MT of
carved stone showed that something
better than common dwelling
house had once stood there, "per-
haps just under our feet human
being was walled up in this little
hole, and left to die by inches while
his murderers feasted above him!'
Z" l wonder what his crime was?"
said the other.
Crime? Perhaps he knew too
many secrets, and they put him out
of the way. Perhaps he was Re-
former, and they feared his eloquence.
Perhaps
Perhaps he was great rascal,
and deserved his fate, horrible as it
was" interrupted his friend. "Why
are you always so hard on those
monks of old?"
" And why are you always SO ready
to speak up for them?" was the re-
tort
When l remember the books
these old fellows saved for us in the
dark ages, | feel sure that there
were more than ten righteous men
in the city, let others say what they
will"
A party of noisy urehins were play
ing at short distance among the
ruins; one heap, larger than the
others, was an imaginary castle,
which they were besieging and de
Tending by turns. Two sunburned,
ragged boys drew near to the speaker,
each shyly nudging the other and
trying to push him forward as spokes-
man.
"What do you want, my little fell
low9" he asked, good-naturedly,
"Please, sir, have you knifei Will
you cut this for met" said the bigger
of the two, holding out large dis
colored flap of something which
looked like neither rag nor paper.
The young man took out his knife,
but had no sooner touched the thing
than he uttered an exclamation of
surprise, and examined it carefully.
"Where did you find this my boy9"
Down there, sir, in the rubbish.
1t was blowing about, and Franz
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