The Press., 1898-07-28


 In truth God did help him, and one day in mid-Lent Father Sauteu left the house, escorted by his dog. All the way to Le Faiard's field he chuckled softly to himself.
 "A miracle, indeed. You must have Q miracle. must you. you rogue? Ore mus, little villain, leave those Bfrds alone. You have other things to do. A miraclei Yes, my fine fellow, you are going to have your miracle, and i'm go- ing to have your soulp'
 It was Friday. Le Faiard has just killed his pig, and would probably have . sausage for dinner.
 The priest soon reached his destina- tion. ,'.
 "Good day, Le Faiard, ' said he, in c fatherly tone.
 "Good day, father" replied the dis ciple of Voltaire.
 With that they fell into chat, inter- rupted from time to time by the yelps of Oremus, and punctured, so to speak. by the handfuls of seed that the young farmer scattered right and left as he walked along.
 Dinner hour. The two men seated themselves on little hillock, and Le Faiard pulled sausage from his pocket, 8 superb sausage, red as a tomato, and with an odor to have made saints mouth water.
 "Holy Virgin, Le Faiard, what a sinl On Friday, in Lent too. Don't eat it, my son."
 "Not eat it That's good. The idea 1 I would eat it on Good Friday if had it. Besides, haven't seen with my own eyes bishops and archbishops, too, for that matter, in India, who always ate meat whether it was good or bad Fri day."
 "Your joking is ill timed. God is good, but he will not always have pa- tience with you. Some day he will open your eyes by a miracle, but who can say if then the gate of mercy may not be closed for you"
 Father, miracles are always in sea- son, but unfortunately the time for them has gone by. AS for me, death of my life, I wouldn't ask better than to see what you threaten me with. Mean while the sausage claims my attention -and''- And the rascal took great mouthful of his dinner
 O1CAhuS AdO HUI 411UCu HIS Sy 1TOlu the sausage since its appearance on the scene. Every time Le Faiard took a bite the poor bowwow licked his chops and wagged his tail, which distinctly said ill dog language:
 "Oh, what an elegant sausage! How I should like somer'
 Watch my dog, you mocker," said the abbe. "See how he is devouring the sausage with his eyes. We'll, when I say, It is Friday, Oremus, he will not touch the piece that I am going to offer him. And he is only dog"
 Le Faiard was convulsed with laugh ter.
 "Oh, father, that's too much! All the same, though, would like to see your miracle-it would take me to mass yes, and vespers too."
 Taking delicious morsel of the sau- sage, the abbe called, "OremusP P'
 Oremus came like streak
 1t is Friday, Oremus, went on the abbe, "but just See what I have for you" " and he offered the tempting bit, which he held, be it understood, in his left hand.
 Imagine, if you can, the astonishment of Le Faiard when he saw Oremus halt suddenly ill front of his master, head lowered, tail between his legs and with the air of an actor who had forgotten his lines.
 Good doggie, Oremus, eat iti'' Sure of his success, the priest put the sausage under the dogs nose. Not a movement Oremus' eyes were good. He saw that the sausage staid in the left hand, and after few minutes he turned tail and retreated to the shade of a bush close by, where he sadly flung himself down and tried to forget his dis | appointment in little nap. During this scene Le Faiard had been petrifed. With open mouth he watch ed the priest and his dog as criminal watches his judge. When Oremus final | ly beat a retreat, Le Faiard reused him. self and ejected the mouthful already half masticated.
 Father" he cried, "I have seen enough and too much. I am the most miserable sinner on earth, and it has taken a dog to convince me of it. ''
 The following Sunday Le Faiard went to mass and vespers, and ever since that memorable day it is he who lights the candles and rings the bells in Abi- ho, where the holy peace of God reigns now as formerly. Echo de la Sc, | maine"