The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-01-16
ELIXIR BENEDICTINE.
Friar Peters Soul in Jeopardy, but
the Monks Rememb cred Him.

Alphonse Daudets Account, translated, in
the San Francisco Argonaut.
Many years ago the good friars of the
now famous Monastery of Fecamps had
fallen into sorry straits. Poverty had de-
scended upon them like pail. The lofty
bell tower was showing signs of decay;
grass was growing in the cloister yard; the
carved saints were crumbling in their
inches; the stained-glass windows were
broken; the doors were falling from their
hinges. The winds of heaven, blowing
whithersoever they listed, swept through
the chapel, extinguishing the candles upon
the once grand altar and tousling the good
fathers vestments But, alack! what most
afflicted the worthy friars was their bell,
or rather their loss of it, for ii had been
sold Silent was the steeple; they were
called to mathis by beating a bit of wood
upon the wall.
Poor Benedictines! To see them filing
along the procession on Corpus Christi day
would have moved you. A diet of melons
and lemons had much altered their some
time rubicund visages, and pale were the
faces framed in their shabby cowls. And
then there was the poor abbot, his head
hanging upon his breast. He was stricken
with shame thus to show to the world his
furnished cross and worm-eaten inter TO
such a point had their restitution arrived
that the fathers sometimes thought of quit
ting the monastery and going forth into the
rude world to buffet with it's waves.
So one day a council was held to discuss
this grave question. To the establishment
of all. F'riar Peter demanded a voice. His
functions were not Of an exalted nature;
they consisted in driving to pasture two
emaciated cows, the remnant of the once
numerous focks and herds. He had been
left alone in the world at the age of twelve
years by the death of his old aunt, called
Mother Begon, whom the peasants had
considered a witch. The monks had taken
him, instilled as much education into him
as his thick skull would allow and finally
made a frair of him. He was a fcryent
Christian, was Frair Peter and when he
scourged himself for a penance his robust
arms made it no childs play.
Well, Friar Peter entered the council
chamber fumbling at his humble rosary
awkward bow all the monks laughed, and
even the abbot smiled. But Friar Peter
was used to it, and his feelings were not
''Revered father and brothers" said he
with a simple smile. Il think l have hit
upon a plan to save US from our troubles.
gon. (May she pass through pursatory,
poor soul! She used to sing wicked songs
after Ginner.( Well, Mother BeSon knew
more about herbs and simples than any
woman that / ever saw. Some time before
she died she made the most delicious cordial
that ever was mixed, just by taking five
or six Of the herbs that grow on the noun
tains back of us That's many a long year
ago; but think that, with the aid of Saint
Augustine, and the permission of our rev.
erend abbot, / could succeed in finding the
herbs and mixing the mysterious elixir. All
we'd have TO do then would be TO put it
In bottles and sell 1t. like our brethren of
La Grand ChartTeuse and of the Trappist
monastery Thus the community would be
gradually enriched and"
He did not have time to finish. The abbot
flung himself into Peters arms. The other
monks struggled to kiss his hands Friar
Anselm the keeper of the disused money-
chest was more moved than any of the
rest He knelt with much respect, and kissed
the ragged hem OF Peters shabby frock. 1t
was with ditiicultx that the council was