a poor's box they were in
purgatory.

"Toc--toc!"

"Who is there?"

"The wheelwright of Coq," said the great golfer.

"But he is in a state of mortal sin," cried the angel on duty. "Take
him away from here--he can't come in."

"I cannot, all the same, let him linger between heaven and earth,"
said Death; "I shall shunt him back to Coq."

"Where they will take me for a ghost. Thank you! is there not still
paradise?"

XIV

They were there at the end of a short hour.

"Toc, toc!"

"Who is there?"

"The wheelwright of Coq," said the great golfer.

"Ah! my lad," said St. Peter, half opening the door, "I am really
grieved. St. Antony told you long ago you had better ask for the
salvation of your soul."

"That is true, St. Peter," replied Roger with a sheepish air. "And
how is he, that blessed St. Antony? Could I not come in for one moment
to return the visit he once paid me?"

"Why, here he comes," said St. Peter, throwing the door wide open.

In the twinkling of an eye the sly golfer had flung himself into
paradise, unhooked his apron, let it fall to the ground, and seated
himself down on it.

"Good morning, St. Antony," said he with a fine salute. "You see I had
plenty of time to think of paradise, for here we are!"

"What! _You_ here!" cried St. Antony.

"Yes, I and my company," replied Roger, opening his sack and
scattering on the carpet the souls of the six golfers.

"Will you have the goodness to pack right off, all of you?"

"Impossible," said the great golfer, showing his apron.

"The rogue has made game of us," said St. Antony. "Come, St. Peter, in
memory of our game of golf, let him in with his souls. Besides, he has
had his purgatory on earth."

"It is not a very good precedent," murmured St. Peter.

"Bah!" replied Roger, "if we have a few good golfers in paradise,
where is the harm?"

XV

Thus, after having lived long, golfed much and drunk many cans of
beer, the wheelwright of Coq called the Great Golfer was admitted to
paradise; but I advise no one to copy him, for it is not quite the
right way to go, and St. Peter might not always be so compliant,
though great allowances must be made for golfers.

THE LEGEND OF MONT ST.-MICHEL

BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT

I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle in the sea. I got
an indistinct impression of it as of a grey shadow outlined against
the misty sky. I saw it again from Avranches at sunset. The immense
stretc