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Chapter 2 THE MASTER OF ST. HOSPITAL.

Word Count: 2256    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

ch; as having nothing, and y

iterary style. "It is," he would observe, "one of the few pleasurable capacities spared by old age." He had, moreover, a scholarly habit of verifying his references and quotations; and if the original, however familiar, happened to be in a dead or foreign

surviving descendant of that Alberic de Blanchminster (Albericus de Albo Monasterio) who had founded this Hospital of Christ's Poor in 1137, and the dearest, most distinguished-looking old clergyman imaginable. An American lady had once summed him up as a Doctor of

nger upon the page and looked up reproachfully. "-my good Simeon, is it possib

hope. "I can't tell how it is, sir, but that always seems to me to want a circumflex, being an adverb of so

nomise anger. But he frowned as he dipped a pen in the ink-pot and made the correction; for he was dainty about his manuscripts as

quisite handwriting, could be threatening dismissal over a circumflex. Oh, there was no danger! If long and (until the other day) faithful service were not sufficient, at least there was guarantee in the go

which his patron liked to be addressed, "I thi

dee

ter gla

the edge of the writing-table for support-"that one man is born with a feel

Master, "they come by bre

med his

, when he named our beloved house the College of Noble Poverty. His predecessor, Alberic de Blanchminster, had called it after Christ's Poor; and the one title, to be sure,

h a capital 'H'-when you know

Residentiary of Merchester, who insisted on using capitals upon all parts of speech referring, however remotely, to either of the Divine Persons. The Master, who despised Canon Tarbolt for a vulgar pulpiteer, and barely

other fair copy

ing back that curtain? My eyes are tr

ar-fetched that, as Cardinal Beauchamp had great possessions, he took this occasion to testify how in his heart he slighted them. Or again-for history seems to prove that he was not an entirely scrupulous man, nor entirely unta

, that strugg

re eng

d: and while we con

out their alms on a broad stone by the wayside, whereby a fair fountain ran; and Francis rejoiced that Brother Masseo's orts and scraps of bread were larger than his own, saying, "Brother Masseo, we are not worthy of such treasure." "But how," asked Brother Masseo, "can one speak of treasure when there is such lack of all things needful? Here have we neither cloth, nor knife, nor plate, nor porringer, nor house, nor table, nor manservant,

he gem set the reflected ray dancing in a small pool of light, oval-shaped and wine-coloured, on the white margin of the sermon. He stared at it for a moment, tracing it mistakenly to a glass of Rh?ne wine-a Cha

a hand and raised the wine to

that on the lower Rh?ne all tastes met in one ecstasy.... I'd like to have your opinion on this, now; that is,

amid his thanks, that

ainer-as in a man who has never learnt Greek. It is difficult with both to say what the l

poor men who abstained of necessity. He thought not; be

f a man and leave him a sodden pulp. Beer is honest, but brutalising. Wine-certainly any good wine that can trace its origin back beyond the Reformation-is one with all good lit

egan Mr. Simeon, a

liquor coursing through him-nay could almost have reported its progress from ganglion to gangl

her C

he invigorating Chateau Neuf du Pape seemed to overtake and

pas-you wer

tallers were in a hopeless case; being mostly religious men, and yet having to explain in

wned and strok

to one who, having started as a scholar and a gentleman, finds him

oddly the sermon on the table. It was spoken with insight too, for had not his own poverty, or the fear of it, sharpened Mr. Simeon's tongue just now and prompted him to quote

.. I ask you to believe that I have

ood gazing out of the window

r pardon?" sai

u might think I said

d?... Ah, there he goes!-and Brother Bonaday with him. They are off to the river, for Brother Copas carries his rod. W

ravel around upon the glass-fronted bookcases, filled with sober riches in vellum and gilt leather, on the rare prints in black frames, the statuette of Diane Chasseresse, th

e wool-gathering, over the sermon-that little peroration of mine does not please me somehow.... I will take a stroll to the h

te out another

wine and by the Master's cordiality of manner, Mr. Simeon felt a wild impulse to make a clean breast, confess his traffickin

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