Eulogius, who was rapidly
passing from the mellow stage of good fellowship to the maudlin, "that even
after his celestial assumption he is permitted to continue a source of
blessing and benefit to his fellow-creatures as yet dwelling in the shade
of mortality! The thought of the services of my bell, in averting lightning
and inundation from the good people of Epinal, fills me with indescribable
beatitude."

"_Your_ bell!" interposed Eucherius, whose path had lain through the mellow
to the quarrelsome. "_Your_ bell, quotha! You had as good clink this
cannakin" (suiting the action to the word) "as your bell. It's my bell that
does the business."

"I think you might put in a word for _my_ bell," interposed Euschemon, a
little squinting saint, very merry and friendly when not put out, as on the
present occasion.

"Your bell!" retorted the big saints, with incredible disdain; and,
forgetting their own altercation, they fell so fiercely on their little
brother that he ran away, stopping his ears with his hands, and vowing
vengeance.

A short time after this fracas, a personage of venerable appearance
presented himself at Epinal, and applied for the post of sacristan and
bell-ringer, at that time vacant. Though he squinted, his appearance was
far from disagreeable, and he obtained the appointment without difficulty.
His deportment in it was in all respects edifying; or if he evinced some
little remissness in the service of Saints Eulogius and Eucherius, this was
more than compensated by his devotion to the hitherto somewhat slighted
Saint Euschemon. It was indeed observed that candles, garlands, and other
offerings made at the shrines of the two senior saints were found to be
transferred in an unaccountable and mystical manner to the junior, which
induced experienced persons to remark that a miracle was certainly
brewing. Nothing, however, occurred until, one hot summer afternoon, the
indications of a storm became so threatening that the sacristan was
directed to ring the bells. Scarcely had he begun than the sky became
clear, but instead of the usual rich volume of sound the townsmen heard
with astonishment a solitary tinkle, sounding quite ridiculous and
unsatisfactory in comparison. St. Euschemon's bell was ringing by itself.

In a trice priests and laymen swarmed to the belfry, and indignantly
demanded of the sacristan what he meant.

"To enlighten you," he responded. "To teach you to give honour where honour
is