of the Abbot
Eutychus. The Abbot had a bear to tend his sheep while he was absent
and to shut them in their fold at sunset, and when the monks saw that
marvel, instead of praising God they were burned up with envy and
ill-will, and they killed the bear. Ah, children, it is still possible
for us, even in these days, to kill a Saint's robin and an abbot's
bear. Let us beware of envy and jealousy and uncharitableness."

In those years when Father Oswald was thus teaching his novices
gentleness and compassion, he had but one trouble in his life, and that
was the remembrance of a companion of his youth, who had fled from the
Priory and disappeared in the noise and tumult of the world's life. As
scholars they had been class-mates, and as novices they had been so
closely drawn together that each had pledged to the other that whoever
died first should, under God's permission, appear to the one still left
alive, and reveal to his friend all that may be told of the state of
the departed. Now hardly had they been professed monks more than a
year when this brother broke his vows and deserted his habit, and fled
away under cloud of night. Oswald had never forgotten his friend, and
had never ceased to grieve and pray for him. It was the great hope and
desire of his heart that, having at last proved the vanity of all that
the world can give, this Lost Brother would one day return, like the
Prodigal Son, to the house of his boyhood.

As the years went by Prior Anselm grew old and sickened, and at length
what was mortal of him fell as the leaf that falls and is trodden in
the clay; and the Novice-master was elected Prior in his stead.

Now one of the first great works which the new Prior set his hand to
was the making of two large fish-ponds for the monastery. "And so,"
said he, "not only shall we have other than sea-fish for our table, but
in case of fire we shall have store of water at hand. Then, too, it is
a pleasant thing to look on sweet water among trees, and to watch the
many sorts of silvery fish playing in their clear and silent world.
And well it becomes our state of life that we should have this, for of
our Lord's Disciples many were fishermen, and fish and bread were the
last earthly food our dear Master ate. Now of these ponds let the
larger be our Lake of Gennesaret, and surely it shall some time happen
to us that we shall see the Lord when the bright morning has come, and
that our hearts shall be as a fir