The Press., 1898-07-28
THE ABBE'S DOG.

Abbe Sauteu was the cure of a sleepy little village at the extreme end of Prov ence-the Provence of the olden time, when doubts had not yet crept in to cor rupt the simple faith of the peasants. The old priest lived happily among his parishioners, kindly souls all of them, and so obedient to the commandments of God and our holy mother church that their lives were a real benediction for their spiritual father. The good man had no need to touch them up every now and then with 8 rousing sermon, nor did he ask the aid of others more eloquent than himself to convert his flock. They were born, lived and died in the fold, and their pastor discharged his simple priestly duties and led in anticipation the life of the blessed
 The abbe adored nature, and every day you could have seen him strolling among the fields, reading his breviary, while from time to time he glanced at the gambols of Oremus, his little dog. They were as inseparable as St. Koch and his famous bowwow. Oremus en- joyed these strolls as much as his mas ter, but in a different fashion. The priests pleasure was purely contempla- tive, that of the doggie active.
 Oremus firmly believed that God gave four legs to little dogs so that they could be twice as alert as their masters, who, poor creatures, had but two. So he raced over the fields, sometimes be- hind, sometimes ahead of the cure, jumping, making a corkscrew of his tail, snapping at the birds and giving himself up to all the pranks befitting the well bred dog of priest.
 Superfuous to add that Oremus un- derstood absolutely all that his master said to him and that he could do ev- erything but speak. AS for tricks, our Oremus could have given points to the whole canine world. He danced on his hind legs and shook hands like Chris tian, and his great feat was to refuse the most delicious chop, the juiciest morsel, if offered with the left hand
 You may well believe that this vic- tory over the canine flesh was not gain. ed without effort. The abbe and his dog had given much time and patience to the perfecting of this triumph, and evenings after the cure had dined alone the little dog was put through his paces, always ending the performance with the famous "chop act" Then the abbe, with tears in his eyes, would ask him, self if the good God could have the heart to refuse a scrap of paradise tc such a creature. Let us hasten to add that the worthy priest would have died before giving voice to such a sentiment he, a son of the church.
 But nothing is perfect in this world and one day the sacred calm of AbihC was turned into confusion. Listen, anC you will learn how. A young conscript who had been absent seven years anC who was supposed by the villagers tC have been killed in the war, reappeareC | one fine morning and immediately tool up his old life of farming. So far sc | good. But what a scandal arose, m. friends, when it was known that L. | Faiard absented himself from mass ol Sunday, swore like a pirate at ever, word, and, more than all, ate meat ol Friday
 Abbe Sauteu almost died of mortified tion. Night and day he racked his brail to find some means of bringing the apos | tate back t0 the faith of his childhood As if by accident M. le Cure oftel strolled past the field where Le Faiart was working. Almost always he stop ped to gossip with his black sheep, ant | very often the conversation turned ol the all absorbing question. Le Faiard for his part, was only too ready to argu the point. He was a pigheaded fellow who liked to hear himself talk, and fire quently it happened that our good abb who was by no means a well of learn ing-fouDd himself fioored by the argu ments which his opponent had picke, up in his military life and which h reeled off with parrotlike volubility.
 One day when Le Faiard had reduces his adversary to silence, he asked, as finishing stroke:
 Anyway, father, do you take me fo a saint?''
 | "Alas, far from it, my son."
 'The devil fly away with me, then | if you don't demand more of me than saint or even an apostle is capable of. "
 Heaven forbidr' ejaculated tn priest, falling innocently into the snare
 "Well. then, father" said Le Faiard with a sly grin, "did St. Thomas be ieve on the faith of others? Didn't h require miracle, and, trone de- -Dieu what a miracle! Who can blame m for following St. Thomas example only ask less than his saintship. Show me the least little miracle, don't car how small, and I'll go to confession with all my heart.
 Then seeing that the priest was dunn founded, he added: "Morbleu, father won't you show me one? That ough not to feaze friend of Gods"
 Then he walked away, in high glee at the effect produced by his words l aaXMorlr ,.,ir.n1,l, II Id tL,o t.