The Quiet Corner
THE QUIET CORNER / counsel thee, shut not thy heart nor thy library.—C. Lamb. "These are cold days for spring," grumbled Britannicus. "True," replied Dr. Angelicus, "and that remark...
...She saw that his hands were red with cold, and that his feet in their thonged sandals were congealed and half frozen...
...Know you not, dear old mother/ said he, 'that I am Saint Peter and that I once stood warming myself at a fire in the High Priest's house while cruel men betrayed my Master...
...And she lost all fear, and smiled back at them...
...and so when I saw by my cottage this grand, big load of wood that had fallen off a cart, I thought to myself, what a jolly winter it'll be for me...
...Poor things,' said the old woman, and parted with more of her sticks...
...Angelicus, "and that remark reminds me of a charming story written by Miss Laura Benet, which came to me this morning...
...But she clutched her blouse in time to thrust them further into it...
...And that night while she dozed, the crazy boy who had nothing in his pockets but grass stalks and millet seed, stole nine of her sticks to make a bird cage for a bird he had contrived to snare...
...The old woman, already far behind the others, dared not stop for them...
...As each tear fell upon the three sticks it was changed to a tiny, lapping flame that kindled them suddenly into a glowing blaze...
...They were bulky and cumbersome, but no one offered to help her with them...
...At last she gave a great gasp and sat down flat on the floor, with the sticks rattling in her blouse...
...Let me read it to you: " 'Along the straight, white road to Paradise went a great company of people summoned in a hurry by the Archangel Gabriel...
...and then, alack, next morning I got your message...
...So, as I was leaving I dragged a bundle of the sticks along—for, thought I, the evil ones in Purgatory are overly hot in torment, but the white saints in Paradise must sometimes feel coldish.' " 'Then the great Archangel smiled and said she could keep her wood, only she must let the man with the donkey help her...
...and while they halted overnight by the roadside they demanded the remaining sticks in the old woman's bundle for a bonfire...
...Then the pilgrims to Paradise went near a copse where children were gathering a few stray faggots—and when they saw the old woman's bundle, they wailed and held out their arms, crying that they needed a big fire to roast their potatoes as they had had no dinner...
...All her eternal days she shall be warm and happy, and the light of the great city of the saints shall be to her as the warmth from the Christ Child's tree...
...I know not your name, only that you are one of the good saints and I have brought you these to kindle a fire and warm your feet/ " 'The saint looked at them longingly without touching...
...Some women had been sent for while they had been cooking, and held their favorite dinner dish poised in their hands, filled to the brim lest they get hungry on the way...
...Oh, good sir/ cried the old woman, and drew forth the three sticks...
...As for you, Peter, you shall be happy and warm with her, and carry no memory of ancient things/ " The Librarian...
...After a while, they met a crowd leading a condemned criminal to the market place to be hanged...
...His face was pale grey, and his lips twitched and there was froth upon them like sea foam...
...But when the old woman handed him up a load of sticks, the man piled them so loosely on the donkey's back that they fell off in the road, and he would not stoop to pick them up...
...To me they may not come/ "The poor old woman's disappointment was so bitter when she thought of his bruised, chilled feet that the tears from her overcharged heart burst forth again...
...The poor old dame could not say them nay, but her heart was sorely troubled...
...So she lost all heart and began to sob and cry in real earnest...
...For after the bonfire was built, she had but a dozen good-sized sticks out of her whole snug packet—and surely the feet of the saints would not be much benefited by these...
...And when the old woman saw his terrified face, she bound two sticks into a crucifix and gave it to him...
...But her teeth chattered, and her crushed old shoes let in the wind, and her thin, frayed shawl blew off her shoulders...
...So it was that each one had something precious with him—something that he or she felt they absolutely could not do without...
...Therefore, dear mother, give your sticks elsewhere...
...Since then, I must, even here in High Heaven, suffer the punishment of never drawing near a fire, no matter how I shake with cold...
...For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out of it...
...But the angel at the gate did not take the sticks from the old woman—they were buried too deep in her calico blouse...
...The eyes of the old woman who had borne so much, were dazzled by its glitter, and she nearly let fall her three remaining sticks...
...Now when people hear that they are to go to heaven at once and remain there, they do, of necessity, get a bit flurried...
...And now a cold, beautiful, silver light began to pour over the road, and all frosted with delicate rime like a Christmas roof in moonlight, the pilgrims beheld Paradise—a city of pure, white light like the fall of a fresh snow that has never been sullied...
...Now one or two of the oldest folk in the procession passed away suddenly, and the Angel Gabriel flew ahead with them to the gates of the blessed city...
...Then one of the saints with a rugged, kindly face, and carrying a great bunch of keys, hastened over to help her up...
...one man led along an aged donkey ; and at the very tail of the procession walked an old and very poor woman who carried in her arms a huge bundle of sticks...
...The old woman had time to look about her and she saw the faces of beauteous saints regarding her pityingly and kindly...
...When they came to the gates, each person was bidden to give up what he had brought with him...
...even the cross old man's donkey was taken for the youthful seraps to ride upon while their wings were yet tender and tiny...
...All my life, I have shivered through winters with scarce two crossed sticks on the hearth to rub my bones by...
...one man had a sack of early wheat that he dragged painfully along after him...
...All my life I have been poor and hungry and childless—with never a daughter nor a son to do for me, and but few neighbors...
...When the journey was resumed, the old woman trudged along, stumbling and falling, clutching her three precious sticks in the bosom of her dress...
...All her days she shall be fire-maker in Paradise, and kindle the happy torches for the welcoming angels and the leaping hearth at the foot of the great, white throne...
...I will not,' said the old woman firmly, 'even for you, the great Angel Gabriel...
...Then a Voice spoke over Saint Peter's head, and said kindly: " 'Peter, warm your repentance at the fire of this poor woman's heart...
...This halted the others until the good Angel should return and guide them...
...Oh, but it was cold in the still wonder of Paradise...
...So at last, seeing she was so overburdened, the good Archangel himself, in his red cloak, halted at her side and spoke kindly, telling her to throw some of the sticks away as they were still far from Paradise...
Vol. 3 • April 1926 • No. 22
