himself a man of bowels, and one that was disposed to favor humanity, even while it helped the cause of his arch enemy, the Pope.  The clavier was always well received, not only in his bailiwick but in his chateau, and in spite of numberless little skirmishes on doctrine and practice, they always met with a welcome and generally parted in peace.  This feeling of amity and good-will extended to the superior and to all the others of the holy community, for in addition to a certain heartiness of character in the bailiff, there was mutual interest to maintain it.  At the period of which we write, the vast possessions with which the monks of St. Bernard had formerly been endowed were already much reduced by sequestrations in different countries, that of Savoy in particular, and they were reduced then, as now, to seek supplies to meet the constant demands of travellers in the liberality of the well-disposed and charitable; and the liberality of Peterchen was thought to be cheaply purchased by his jokes, while, on the other hand, he had so many occasions, either in his own person or those of his friends, to visit the convent, that he always forbore to push contention to a quarrel.

“Welcome again, Herr Bailiff, and for the ninth time welcome!” continued the Prior, as he took the hand of Peterchen, leading the way to his own private parlor; “thou art always a welcome guest on the mountain, for we know that we entertain at least a friend.”

“And a heretic,” added Peterchen, laughing with all his might, though he uttered a joke which he now repeated for the ninth time.  “We have met often, Herr Prior, and I hope we shall meet finally, after all our clambering of mountains, as well as our clambering after worldly benefits, is ended, and that where honest men come together, in spite of Pope or Luther, books, sermons, aves, or devils!  This thought cheers me whenever I offer thee my hand,” shaking that of the other with a hearty good-will; “for I should not like to think, Father Michael, that, when we set out on the last long journey, we are to travel for ever in different ways.  Thou may’st tarry awhile, if thou seest fit, in thy purgatory, which is a lodging of thine own invention, and should therefore suit thee, but I trust to continue on, until fairly housed in heaven, miserable and unhappy sinner, that I am!”

Peterchen spoke in the confident voice of one accustomed to utter his sentiments to inferiors, who either dared not, or did not deem it wise, to dispute his oracles; and he ended with another deep-mouthed laugh, that filled the vaulted apartment of the smiling prior to the ceiling.  Father Michael took all in good part, answering, as was his wont in mildness and good-tempered charity; for he was a priest of much learning, deep reflection, and rebuked opinions.  The community over which he presided was so far worldly in its object as to keep the canons in constant communion with men, and he would not now have met for the first time one