A CHRISTMAS TALE

Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2652, 24 December 1915, Page 3

A CHRISTMAS TALE

ROM "CHRONICLES OF A RELIGIOUS HOUSE" (By Monsignor Kobort Hugh Benson.) Now of the following Christmas tale bat was told to me by Father Henry, lio last Twelfth Night 1 that ever I spent t that House, I do not know what to ay. Some would have it that euch ales as these are no more than legends iade up long ago to edify the novices, nd have no truth in them; others that i such' places as religious houses and) uch like there bo left fragments of rue happenings and histories that have jug since died out of men's memories lsewhero; and others, again, that they e partly true and partly false, being junded indeed upon somo spiritual ver:y, but cast in a mould that has no ruth in it. But, however that may be, ere is tho history as Father Henry old it to us oil Twelfth Night, as we at, monks and guests all together, ound the fire in tho refectory after upper. (For myself, I think it may fell be true, sinco no man disputes that ho Wandering Jow himself was seen no anger time ago than last year in 'aris; and if ho could live so long, why tot another also?) It fell on the very, first Christmas Dve-after that the Priory Church had leen'rebuilt (aud that was more than a mndred years ago) that there came to he door of .the Aula Pauporum, scetang helter, a young woman with her child ; ,nd I • need not say that,' that, season leing what it was —the very night on rfiich Our Blessed Lady herself camo to Jethlehom" ro long ago—all made haste o Welcome her in, though there was icarce room loft fdr her and-her child o findl ' a placo near tho fire, for all Christendom- 'knows well inough those - various other ;ales in. which it is related '.how )ur Lady still'walks tho earth with the ippearauce 'of her ■ Divine Son -in lier [•his,' aud how she blesses those who ake her in- This, however, was but a, :ommon wench; and after all had looked it. her; a little as she ate her supper ind answored their questions, t-;ey ihought no moro of her. She was on ler way from Worcester to St. Albans, ill© said,"and. had boon overtaken by ;he snow, ias -indeed most of the rest if them'had been; but she answered ■ery shortly, and presently they troubled ter no more. ; , ' -. , When supper was doTiGj tiie two jrothers of tho llouso came in, as the iustom . was, to bring the straw that vas to make the beds for those. who odged there, it was not a very sreafc 4 amber at that time • that was tho Vula Pauperum, and tho score or so >f folk that were in it now filled it so ihat not another . Christian soul could iqueeze himself in without discommodng them' all. The lay-brothers then, nought'in the straw on their forks n two - great bundles; and dispersed .t in a great, circle round the lire, tellng the folks there,. for their comfort, ;hat no more persons should bo admitted that night (if indeed any came), sliould bo directed further to tlio I'illage that was half a mile away, and lot trouble them. Then. Brother Hilary —for that was his name —after that ho [iad Tanged tho company, assigning to ->ach his place—tho'young woman with lier child had the warmest of them-all —setting tho women on one - side and the men on the other, and had recited the accustomed prayers, bade them all £ood-night and went out with his felNow, at the end of the little . 'open iloister that'ran from the door: to tho Priory to that,,of ;.the c ;Au]a i; there r .was another door/ with,.a porch beyond it, that opened on to the road; and Brother Hilary,' as ■ his duty was, after that .lie liad.been to the kitchen and had washed up the dishes, came'back an hour later to '.this outer door to see that all was secure,.-and: that there was no trouble 51 - disturbance in the Aula itself. On such occasions he would not go into-the Aula and wake them all up by his coming, but listen there in the cloister, after that he had locked the. outcr door, that he might 'bo assured that all was quiet. This night, then, this- was what lie did. He locked the outer door; he lis.tened in 'the' cloister, and was no sound save that of snoring • and then be turned fgain to the inner Priory door to'go in and go to bed himself, for in three hours he must rise again for the midnight-Mass, and must get, therefore, what; sleep he could before it. But, as he was going into the Priory, he heard a knocking at the outer gate, and -it was then, too, that ho heard for'the first time the crying ol the child from the Aula Pauperum.. . 'Now, Brother Hilary, always a quick man with his tongue, was wearied out with all that he had had to do that day,, what with the fall of- snow and the sweeping he had done; and then the great company of guests, and the feeding of them," and the washing 'ol the dishes, and all the rest of the labour: and a very bitter impatience rose up m him,as once more, he set his key into the lock and turned it, and drew tho heavy bote. One thing, however, he was determined-upon, and that was that no more guests. should be taken in that night, snow or no snow. When he opened the door a great bank of snow fell oil his. face from the eaves of the door, and this. did no! sweeten his temper; and when he hac wiped it way again and could see b} his lantern, he perceived that then stood there a fellow whose face h( could not make out, for it was al wrapped up to' protect, him from thi snow, and he had on liim, too, a greai cloak with a hood that was drawn, ovei his forehead. He had a lantern in om hand and a stick in the other. He car ried himself, thought the Brother, liki

an elderly man. . ■ " - "There is no room said cro« ther Hilary sharply, blinking'at him, and holding the door lest the other should 1 force his way in. The fellow said.nothing, but stood as if expecting 'somewhat more. ' "I tell you there is no room," cried Brother Hilary again. "You must be-

gone- to the village"l have been there, said the fellow; in a very strange kind of voice. "There is no room for me there either.'^' "Well, there is none hero," cried Brother Hilary again, very angrily. "You must go.further on." ' . The man drew a great sigh at thai, and, drawing his hood yet further over his face, he made as if lift would turn from the door; and at that —at his patience, I suppose, for there is nothing more infuriating to an impatient manBrotlier Hilary cried ouji at him again. "I tell you there is no room. Whore do you come from?" _ ■ , Then the fellow, turning again a little, made a very singular answer. "I am como," said lie, "from going to and fro upon the earth, and walking up and down ill it." __ Now, Brother Hilary remembered Who it "was who had once' so spoken as is recorded in the Book of Job and for tin instant his heart appeared to him to stand and it was then again that he heard the wailing of the child from tlio Aula Pauperum. "That is a strange answer/' he said, with all his impatience stricken from him. ....

"It would be stranger if it wore not so," said tho man. "However —and lie mado as if to turn away. "What is your business?" asked the Brother, forgetting all about why lie stood there, and what the hour was. "My business once was to give lodging " said tho mail, very still and upright and black against the snowy world without, "ami now it is to find it, or, X had bettor say, seek it.' "But you cannot seek it for ever," Eaid Brother Hilary. ".You .will

it, I tell, you, in tlie village, ia the 1 inn " ■ . "In the inn?" said the other in his melancholy voice. "No, it is for me, now that there is no room in the inn." Again that sudden stroke, as of a silence, fell on Brother Hilary's heart; but before lie could frame another qucstion or even tell himself what he thought ho heard the door at the other '.v end of tho little cloister open, and the. tl wail of tho child wax loud-and shrill, tl and'when he turned tosee what was the, t( matter ho saw, very black again, against zi the leaping firelight through the open tl door, the figure of the young woman ci whom he had'last admjtted, with her o; child in her arms, swaying and tossing tl him gently as mothers do when their a children cannot sleep. o '■ "What are you doing there?" cried a Brother Hilary sharply, for the guests a, had no business to come out into the c cloister without permission. 1 "He cannot sleej>," said the young s woman.in a low voice, coming towards o him. . ii Brother Hilary turned again to the " door to bid the stranger good night, and o tell him once more that there was no a rcom for him . here, at any rats, ; when n suddenly the woman cried out: o "Why! who is that, Brother?" she n 'said, as if afraid, staring past him at v tho man who still waited in the snow, v "Ho is asking for a lodging," said o tho Brother. "I have told him there is s no room." o The woman came yet a step nearer c to the door, still staring out at the r ■man; and Brother Hilary, telling tho tale.afterwards, swore that, as he, too, v looked out again, he saw the man's eyes p burning like coals beneath the hood. e "Come! come!" said the Brother c sharply, ashamed of his own fears, "he f must begone; and you, my lass, must s go and lie down again." i "No! no!" she ssaid. "he must come t in. I tell you he must come in." '1 "Bah!" cried the Brother, "i tefl v you there is no room." t "Let' 'htm take my place; Brother," 1 said the woman»softly. . "See!-he i# a c very old man." . _ t And Brother Hilary again could have 1 sworn that the stranger iwas no moro i than middle-aged, yet'when, at tho young woman's words, he looked at liim t once more, he .'could see now that he was indeed an old 1 man, with a white beard. < 1 "You cannot let an old man go a- ! seeking lodgings- at such a time of i night," said the young woman. "Let him have my place. I will find a cor- i tier somewhere. For Christ's sake, Bro- ' ther, and Mary's." 1 "Well, well," cried tho Brother sharp- £ ly, 'for,-what with all thi6 delay and the I door open on the snow and all the rest, j ho was losing his patience altogether. 1 "Let'tlie fellow come in, and let us see < what we can do." . , J Well, and so it was. He too-k-them all J back into the Aula Pauperum, whero < the rest seemed! all asleep, for not one j of them moved or spoke; and he set :the 1 old man down in the young woman's 1 place; and she gave him the bread and < milk that 6he had set, by for the child i in the morning;, and, once more, the Brother.was amazed to see how old the man appeared' to be by the light of the : fire, for his face was all ■ furrowed ■ and ' bis eyes sunken; yet he could not see him as well as he could have wished, ■; for the old man still had his hood over 1 his head, and would not move it or an- 'i swer when Brother Hilary whispered to him. As for the young woman._ when she had bestowed the stranger in her place, she Whispered that sho would, with the Brother's leave, walk her child up and down the cloister' for a; little, to ,seo if she could get him to sleep. And he gave her leave for this; and so went .at last to his own bed. Now it was not related to me whether it was in sleep that tho memory camo to Brother Hilary that night, or whether he lay awake and remombered'it; ■ indieed, since I have never,heard or read of tlie 'story for myself, I .do not even know whether he did not fancy the legend, and think that he had been told it long ago, as a .child. Only this Ido know, that when Brother Hilary came ; down again from the lay brothers' dor r ter for-.the midnight Mass, ' ancT to awaken the guests for it,'he believed that lib, remembered an old history of how, over since the Holy Night in ; Bethlehem fiften hundred years ago, that the innkeper who told Our Blessed Lady ■ that there was no' room for her , in the inn, has gone to and Jro -upon tho earth, walking up'and'\lowii in it, seeking for a young Mother with «i child at hor breast, who will give'up her lodging to i liim for Christ's sake, and His • Mother's. I say Ido not lmow whether this i 6 a true tale or not, or whether tho circumstances of that night did not suggest it: to Brother Hilary; but at least'lie thought that he had heard it ■ some time and somewhere, long before; and, further, that until Doomsday that man must walk the earth, unless, as I have said, he could find a young Mother with a child at her breast who- should givo up her lodging to him: aud that thus,- and thus alone, should he find rest. . -- . Well, when Brother Hilary had come down hear three hours" later as quick mi he could, remembering or thinking that ' he remembered this tale, and reinembering, too, the very strange talk of the old- man at the door; and when he came ! out into the cloister, he found, tho young woman still walking to and fro with her child, though the child was j asleep now and not crying any more. , "Why, my lass!" said lie, "have you ■ been walking all this while?" [ "Aye, Brother," sho said, "I could , not disturb the pld man." s "Well, let us ' come and see him," j said Brother Hilary. I /And when they camo to where he lay 3 they saw that his hood was fallen back t and that his -face was neither that of a f middle-aged man nor, indeed, of just an j old man, but, of a man so old that no ; reckoning could be made of liis age. 3 But. it was a very peaceful face that they looked upo ntogether,_ for ho had found indeed that rest which is better than- any sleep; r '