A Childs Book of Saints | Page 7

name: ever world without end.

The Pilgrim of a Night
In the ancient days of faith the doors of the churches used to be opened
with the first glimmer of the dawn in summer, and long before the
moon had set in winter; and many a ditcher and woodcutter and
ploughman on his way to work used to enter and say a short prayer
before beginning the labour of the long day.
Now it happened that in Spain there was a farm-labourer named Isidore,
who went daily to his early prayer, whatever the weather might be. His
fellow-workmen were slothful and careless, and they gibed and jeered
at his piety, but when they found that their mockery had no effect upon
him, they spoke spitefully of him in the hearing of the master, and
accused him of wasting in prayer the time which he should have given
to his work.
When the farmer heard of this he was displeased, and he spoke to
Isidore and bade him remember that true and faithful service was better
than any prayer that could be uttered in words.
"Master," replied Isidore, "what you say is true, but it is also true that
no time is ever lost in prayer. Those who pray have God to work with
them, and the ploughshare which He guides draws as goodly and
fruitful a furrow as another."
This the master could not deny, but he resolved to keep a watch on
Isidore's comings and goings, and early on the morrow he went to the
fields.
In the sharp air of the autumn morning he saw this one and that one of
his men sullenly following the plough behind the oxen, and taking little
joy in the work. Then, as he passed on to the rising ground, he heard a
lark carolling gaily in the grey sky, and in the hundred-acre where
Isidore was engaged he saw to his amazement not one plough but three
turning the hoary stubble into ruddy furrows. And one plough was
drawn by oxen and guided by Isidore, but the two others were drawn
and guided by Angels of heaven.

When next the master spoke to Isidore it was not to reproach him, but
to beg that he might be remembered in his prayers.
Now the one great longing of Isidore's life was to visit that hallowed
and happy country beyond the sea in which our Lord lived and died for
us. He longed to gaze on the fields in which the Shepherds heard the
song of the Angels, and to know each spot named in the Gospels. All
that he could save from his earnings Isidore hoarded up, so that one day,
before he was old, he might set out on pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It
took many years to swell the leather bag in which he kept his treasure;
and each coin told of some pleasure, or comfort, or necessary which he
had denied himself.
Now, when at length the bag was grown heavy, and it began to appear
not impossible that he might yet have his heart's desire, there came to
his door an aged pilgrim with staff and scallop-shell, who craved food
and shelter for the night. Isidore bade him welcome, and gave him such
homely fare as he might--bread and apples and cheese and thin wine,
and satisfied his hunger and thirst.
Long they talked together of the holy places and of the joy of treading
the sacred dust that had borne the marks of the feet of Christ. Then the
pilgrim spoke of the long and weary journey he had yet to go, begging
his way from village to village (for his scrip was empty) till he could
prevail on some good mariner to give him ship-room and carry him to
the green isle of home, far away on the edge of sunset. Thinking of
those whom he had left and who might be dead before he could return,
the pilgrim wept, and his tears so moved the heart of Isidore that he
brought forth his treasure and said:
"This have I saved in the great hope that one day I might set eyes on
what thou hast beheld, and sit on the shores of the Lake of Galilee, and
gaze on the hill of Calvary. But thy need is very great. Take it, and
hasten home (ere they be dead) to those who love thee and look for thy
coming; and if thou findest them alive bid them pray for me."
And when they had prayed together Isidore and the pilgrim lay down to
sleep.

In the first sweet hours of the restful night Isidore became aware that he
was walking among strange fields on a hillside, and on the top of a hill
some distance away there were