The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1910-04-09
Anon,
The Bell of Saint Gildas.

Should a stranger in his ramblings along the
rocky coast of Brittany chance to enter the little
village Of Saint Gildas dAuray on a Friday, he
could not fail to admire the marvellous tones of the
great church bell it rings out the Angelus in peas
that echo far into the surrounding country And if.
being of an inquiring turn of mind, he would know
why that particular day enjoys privilege denied to
the other six days of the week, let him go to old
Perronik the beringer, and be will hear the story
And the story is true; for Perronik heard it from
bis father who heard it from his father whom
everybody venerated
1t a terrible, never beforgotten day when
the Blues" first to Saint Gildas to disturb the
quiet of peaceful village. It is true that like
every Breton we were loyal to our Faith and our
King, and had sent many of our young men to fight
in the good cause; but until that day only vague
rumors Of fighting had reached our village and it
was with the advent of the enemy that we realized
for the first time the full horrors of war The
Blues (they took their name from the color of
their coats) furious at the resistance they had
met with from our troops; and went remorselessly
from house to house, killing all whom they sus-
pected Of bearing arms Loud was the wailing in
our village that day; but far more terrible than
the loud-voiced SORROW of the multitude was
the silent grief of Thuriaf, the sexton who saw his
two murdered before his eyes. The unhappy
father nearly went frantic in that awful hour:
joke, now became sombre and morose, repulsing
the kindly neighbors who would fain have shown
him sympathy.
1t then that the evil spirit took hold of
Ihuriatf; and day after day, as he wandered along
the seashore filed with one all-absorbing idea he
listened to the voice whispering increasingly in
his why not put an end to thy misery Jean
ThuraffP
In vain the sexton tried to close his ears to the
tempter: the voice grew louder and louder, urging
him to put end to life that had grown to be
burden, until one Friday morning he gave up the
unavaiing struggle.
With grim determination Jean Thuriaff locked
the door of the little house where his boys had played
and studied until they grew to be stalwart youths
the pride of their fathers heart He visited the lit
tie churchyard where they both lay buried in the
shadow of the stone now covered with cluster
ing ivy. Before this grave the sexton paused
while, his low-crowned black felt hat in his hand
and his long white hair blowing in the wind; them
with sigh, he passed on through the uneven rows
OF ombstones and out by the low iron gate onto the
beaten highway
1t was clear summer morning. Across the
distant meadow came the shrll whistle of the shep-
herds pipe; the fields of stubbe that lined the road
were CLEANED almost of every straw; and in the
bushes on the top of the earthen walls which divided
the different holdings of land birds sang and called
bidding mankind rejoice in the sunshine. But
Ihura never once raised his eyes as he plodded on
ms brain clouded with despairing thoughts
More than hour passed before the sexton
reached his destination-a small wood, full of thick
underground, and crossed by messy paths rarely
used by the villagers. In this solitary spot at the
loot Of a large tree, he paused and unwound the
rope he had brought, then cast the moose over his
head
But at that very moment sound of bells came
stealing across the meadows, waited by the morn
ing breeze from the village below. A Breton never
iails to kneel when he hears the Angelus calling
HIM to prayer. At the wel-known summons the
unfortunate sexton instinctivey fell on his knees
and mechanically began to pray. And as he prayed
AS the words of the Ave passed his lips-the rope
about his neck fell UNDECIDED to the ground; while
hunaf his heart softened by grace, wept long and
uncontronably as he realized for the first time the
magnitude Of the sin he had been about to commit
From that hour the sexton was changed man
ana when he died, years later, he left his en-
Ilfe savings for the purpose of buying beautiful
0g church bell. 1t is that bell which is still rung
every Friday morning in commemoration of the
visible protection afforded by Our Lady to her I'M
happy son that summer day in the woods of Saint
O1das-B. D. F., in Ave Maria.