of Glogova are never buried in the cemetery at
all. The wolves eat them without ever announcing it in the parish."

"And some die in other parts of the country," went on Gyoergy Klincsok,
"so that only very few of them are buried here."

"It is a bad lookout," said the priest. "But the parish fields, what
about them?"

Now they all wanted to speak at once, but Klincsok pulled the sacristan
aside, and stood up in front of the priest.

"Fields?" he said. "Why you can have as much ground as you like. If you
want one hundred acres ..."

"One hundred acres!" shouted Szlavik, "five hundred if you like; we
shall not refuse our priest any amount of ground he likes to ask for."

The priest's countenance began to clear, but honest Szlavik did not long
leave him in doubt.

"The fact is," he began, "the boundaries of the pasture-lands of Glogova
are not well defined to this day. There are no proper title-deeds; there
was some arrangement made with regard to them, but in 1823 there was a
great fire here, and all our documents were burnt. So every one takes as
much of the land as he and his family can till. Each man ploughs his own
field, and when it is about used up he looks out a fresh bit of land. So
half the ground is always unused, of course the worst part, into which
it is not worth while putting any work."

"I see," sighed the priest, "and that half belongs to the church."

It was not a very grand lookout, but by degrees he got used to the idea
of it, and if unpleasant thoughts would come cropping up, he dispersed
them by a prayer. When praying, he was on his own ground, a field which
always brought forth fruit; he could reap there at any minute all he was
in need of--patience, hope, comfort, content. He set to work to get his
house in order, so that he could at least be alone. Luckily he had found
in the next village an old school friend, Tamas Urszinyi, a big,
broad-shouldered man, plain-spoken, but kind-hearted.

"Glogova is a wretched hole," he said, "but not every place can be the
Bishopric of Neutra. However, you will have to put up with it as it is.
Daniel was worse off in the lions' den, and after all these are only
sheep."

"Which have no wool," remarked his reverence, smiling.

"They have wool, but you have not the shears."

In a few days he had furnished his house with the money he had borrowed
of his friend, and one fine autumn afternoon he was able to take
possession of his own house. Oh, how delig