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BEADSHAW THE BETRAYEB. 39
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
.+. " Oh Doricles ! Your Praises Are Too...
. I found myself at six o ' clock in a desert of dining room with an oasis of table . I was the only guest . It was a dismal meal ; the
mouldy waiter attended upon me ; and I had bad dreams in the catafalque all night long .
While I was breakfasting the next morning I received a message from my friend the verger . Another traveller had turned up ; the
pilgrims were still anxious for a sight of the relics ; and the authorities consented for once to open the treasury-doors in favour of
four . Punctual as I was to the time appointed , the pilgrims were there
before me—a pair of stalwart , broad-shouldered , barefooted Capuchinsodorous of garlic and cognac . One had a patch across his
, eye ; the other -was lame , and wore a bandage round his ankle . Both kept their hoods well over their faces , and neither was exactly
the sort of mendicant that one would prefer to meet towards dusk upon a lonely road among the mountains .
- The fourth traveller had not yet arrived , so I returned to the stone seat of yesterdayand the Capuchins paced up and down
, before the treasury door , conversing in -whispers . Thus H _^ _reten — - fifteen minutes went by , and the chimes jangled at the
_quarter . The pilgrims , who had been glancing up at the clock every
halfdozen seconds or so all the time , now grew more and more impatient .
"Ce diable de voyageur I will he never come ? " was the overloud and somewhat irreverent exclamation of the monk with the patch .
His companion shrugged his shoulders , glanced hurriedly in my direction , and muttered some inaudible reply .
I rose , and went towards them . " I fear , " said I , " that we shall all be _disappointed this morning ;
for the treasury cannot be seen after midday , and it now wants but twenty minutes to the hour . "
The pilgrims groaned and wagged their heads simultaneously . " We are poor servants of the church" said the former speaker ,
, crossing himself with great humility . "We are making a pilgrimage to all the objets saints of the department . It is a great delay
to us , Monsieur , —a melancholy delay !" " And a spiritual privation , Brother Ambroise , " added the other ,
with a profound sigh . ¦ " Hol "A y , things a spiritual are meat privation and , drink indeed to , " miserable echoed Brother sinners Ambroise such as .
we . " I murmured a civil assent ; but could not nelp thinking in my
own mind that such bulky saints could scarcely be indifferent to meats and drinks of a mereltemporal nature .
. 4 ' Have you been long on y this pilgrimage ? " I asked , not knowing
what next to say .
Beadshaw The Betrayeb. 39
BEADSHAW THE BETRAYEB . 39
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Citation
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English Woman’s Journal (1858-1864), March 1, 1858, page 39, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ewj/issues/ewj_01031858/page/39/
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