, and told him that the power of his faith would very
well make amends for the lack of science.

Matthew Fottner had his own thoughts and said nothing.

For seven years old Fottner sat in his house, number eight in Eynhofen
village, rejoicing over the future sanctity of his son; for seven years
the inn-keeper kept figuring out in advance how many gallons of beer
would be drunk at a first-class first-mass celebration; and for seven
long years the Bridge Farmer went every month to the express office in
Pettenbach and sent a postal money order to Roma, Collegio Germanico.

People grew old and gray; now there was a wedding and now a funeral;
old Haberlschneider's house burned down, and Kloyber went bankrupt.

Little events in Eynhofen grew in numbers just like the big ones out in
the world.

Until one day the priest--the new priest, for the old one had died
three years before--announced from the chancel that on the 25th of
July, the day of St. James the Apostle, the Reverend Licentiate Matthew
Fottner would celebrate Holy Mass for the first time in Eynhofen. Then
there was excitement and astonishment in the whole country round! In
all the taverns men talked about it, and the old Bridge Farmer, who
rarely went out any more since he had had his stroke, now sat in the
barroom every day and gave back the taunts that he had had to take in
times gone by.

A week before the celebration Matthew Fottner arrived. He was met at
the station with a decorated carriage, and thirty lads on horseback
escorted him.

A mile and a half from Eynhofen stood the first triumphal arch, which
was adorned with fresh fir-branches and with blue and white flags.

At the entrance to the village another arch stood, and a third was set
up near the tavern. From the steeple floated the yellow and white
banner, salutes were crashing on the hill behind the Stackel Farm, and
the Aufhausen band pealed out its ringing airs.

Now the carriage halted before the parental estate of the licentiate;
Matthew Fottner descended and gave his father, his mother, and their
other children his first blessing.

I must say he did have a clerical appearance and manner. His eyes had a
mild glance, his chin was already double, and the movements of his fat
hands had something well rounded, something actually dainty about
them.

His speech was literary, emphasizing every syllable; he would now say
that he had had a suf-fi-ci-en-cy, and that people had ma-ni-fest-ed
muc