and evil, and thus Sin came into the world, and Death by Sin.'
'I am sure, and it is true,' said Elspeth. 'Oh, if she had dealt by the counsel of Saint Peter and Saint Paul!'
'If she had reverenced the command of Heaven,' said the monk, 'which, as it gave her birth, life, and happiness, fixed upon the grant such conditions as best corresponded with its holy pleasure. I tell thee, Elspeth, the Word slayeth; that is, the text alone, read with unskilled eye and unhallowed lips, is like those strong medicines which sick men take by the advice of the learned. Such patients recover and thrive; while those dealing in them at their own hand, shall perish by their own deed.'
'Nae doubt, nae doubt,' said the poor woman, 'your reverence knows best.'
'Not I,' said Father Philip, in a tone as deferential as he thought could possibly become the sacristan of Saint Mary's,—'not I, but the Holy Father of Christendom, and our own holy father the lord abbot, know best. I, the poor sacristan of Saint Mary's, can but repeat what I hear from others my superiors. Yet of this, good woman, be assured,—the Word, the mere Word, slayeth. But the church hath her ministers to gloze and to expound the same unto her faithful congregation; and this I say, not so much, my beloved brethren—I mean, my beloved sister' (for the sacristan had got into the end of one of his old sermons)—'this I speak not so much of the rectors, curates, and secular clergy, so called because they live after the fashion of the seculum or age, unbound by those ties which sequestrate us from the world; neither do I speak this of the mendicant friars, whether black or grey, whether crossed or uncrossed; but of the monks, and especially of the monks Benedictine, reformed on the rule of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, thence called Cistercian, of which monks, Christian brethren—sister, I would say—great is the happiness and glory of the country in possessing the holy ministers of Saint Mary's, whereof I, though an unworthy brother, may say it hath produced more saints, more bishops, more popes—may our patrons make us thankful!—than any holy foundation in Scotland. WhereforeBut I see Martin hath my mule in readiness, and
