is popular; and I have known the priests of a London monastery to occupy their recreation with marbles for many months. It was quite startling to hear such problems as Predestination or Neo-Malthusianism discussed over a game of marbles.
At 2.30 the bell summons them to choir for Vespers, the last section of the Office, and shortly afterwards tea is announced by the same medium. Nothing is eaten, but each friar receives a large bowl of tea; many of the older friars take another pint of beer instead, for tea is a comparatively recent innovation. The Belgian friars and the early English missionaries always take beer. Silence is not enforced during the quarter of an hour which is allowed for tea, but at its termination the strictest silence is supposed to be observed until recreation on the following day. In point of fact, however, the law of monastic silence is only observed with any degree of fidelity by novices and students, and by these only so long as the superior is within earshot. ‘Charity,’ they would plead in justification, ‘is the greatest of all commandments.’ Still, such as it is, the practice engenders a marked neglect of the commonest forms of politeness.
After an hour of prayer and spiritual reading we continued our pious studies until 6.30, when a third half-hour of silent contemplation had to be accomplished. It was pitiful, sometimes, to see young students endeavouring to keep their attention screwed
