g without sorrow and flight without safety, for though
many fled they could not escape the evil, and so many died that the
wells of sorrow ran dry. And because of the horror of so many deaths,
it was forbidden to toll the bells any longer lest men should go mad.
Often no hand could be got for love or for gold to touch the sick or to
carry the departed to their graves. When the graveyards were filled,
thousands were buried, without a prayer or a last look, in deep
trenches salted with quicklime, on the commons or in an open field.
Many a street in many a town fell suddenly silent and deserted, and
grass grew between the stones of the causeway. Here and there fires
were kept burning night and day to purify the air, but this availed
little. In many a thorpe and village all the inhabitants were swept
away and even robbers and desperate vagrants were too greatly in fear
of infection to enter the ownerless houses. Sometimes in the fields
one saw little children, and perchance an aged woman, trying to manage
a plough or to lead a waggon.

When this trouble fell upon the people the Prior sent out various of
the brethren to aid the suffering and to comfort the bereaved; but when
many of the monks themselves were stricken down and died within the
hour, a great dread took hold of the others, so that they were
unwilling to expose themselves to danger.

The Prior rebuked them for their lack of faith and the coldness of
their charity. "When the beasts and wild creatures suffered we had
compassion on them," he said; "what folly is this that we shall have
care for them and yet feel no pity for men and women in their misery!
Do you fear that you too may be taken off by this pestilence? Who,
then, has told you that you shall not die if only you can escape the
pestilence? Daily you pray, 'Thy kingdom come,' and daily you seek
that it shall not come to-day."

He went abroad himself unweariedly with one or other of the brethren,
doing such good as he was able, and when he had returned home and taken
a little rest he set out once more. Now one night as he and Brother
Bede returned belated through the forest, they were startled as they
approached the gate to hear the weeping and moaning of one who lay
forsaken on the cold earth; and when the Prior called out through the
darkness, "Be of good cheer, Christian soul, we are coming to your
aid," the sufferer replied by rattling the lid of his clap-dish, and at
once they knew it was so