acious words, and then dashed at his work and eagerly graved them in
the soft stone, between working and fighting.

He begged his visitors for candle ends, and rancid oil.

"Anything is good enough for me," he said, "if 'twill but burn." So at
night the cave glowed afar off like a blacksmith's forge, through the
window and the gaping chinks of the rude stone door, and the rustics
beholding crossed themselves and suspected deviltries, and within the
holy talismans, one after another, came upon the walls, and the sparks
and the chips flew day and night, night and day, as the soldier of
Solitude and of the Church plied, with sighs and groans, his bloodless
weapon, between working and fighting.

Kyrie Eleison.

Christe Eleison.

{ton Satanan suntripson upo tous pothas ymwn}(1)

Sursum Corda.(2)

Deus Refugium nostrum et virtus.(3)

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi miserere mihi.(4)

Sancta Trinitas unus Deus, miserere nobis.(5)

Ab infestationibus Daemonum, a ventura ira, a damnatione perpetua.
Libera nos Domine.(6)

Deus, qui miro ordine Angelorum ministeria, etc, (the whole collect).(7)

Quem quaerimus adjutorem nisi te Domine qui pro peccatis nostris juste
irascaris? (8)

Sancte Deus, Sancte fortis, Sancte et misericors Salvator, amarae morti
ne tradas nos.

And underneath the great crucifix, which was fastened to the wall, he
graved this from Augustine:

O anima Christiana, respice vulnera patientis, sanguinem morientis,
pretium redemptionis. Haec quanta sint cogitate, et in statera mentis
vestrae appendite, ut totus vobis figatur in corde, qui pro vobis totus
fixus est in cruce. Nam si passio Christi ad memoriam revocetur, nihil
est tam durum quod non aequo animo toleretur.

Which may be thus rendered: O Christian soul, look on the wounds of
the suffering One, the blood of the dying One, the price paid for our
redemption! These things, oh, think how great they be, and weigh them in
the balance of thy mind: that He may be wholly nailed to thy heart,
who for thee was all nailed unto the cross. For do but call to mind the
sufferings of Christ, and there is nought on earth too hard to endure
with composure.

Soothed a little, a very little, by the sweet and pious words he was
raising all round him, and weighed down with watching and working night
and day, Clement one morning sank prostrate with fatigue, and a deep
sleep overpowered him for many hours. Awaking quietly, he heard a little
cheep; he o