DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.12664#0298
MONKISH SIMPLICITY.
281
and welcomed rest. In the evening the superior
came to my room, and again we mingled the names
of Greece and America. I was weary, and talked
with the old man when I would rather have been
asleep ; but with his own hands he drew mats
and cushions around me, and made me so comfort-
able, that I could not refuse to indulge him with the
rare luxury of conversation on the subject of his
native land, and of the world from which he was
shut out for ever. He was single-hearted and sim-
ple, or, perhaps I should rather say, simple and ig-
norant; I remember, for instance, when we had
been embarrassed for a time by the absence of the
younger monk who served as our interpreter, the
old man told me very gravely, and as a new thing,
which I could not be expected to know, but which
he did not think the less of me for not knowing,
that formerly, in the time of Adam, all mankind
spoke but one tongue ; and that men became wick-
ed, and built a tower to reach to heaven (he had
forgotten its name), and that God had destroyed it
and confounded the impious builders with a variety
of tongues. I expressed my astonishment as in
duty bound, and denounced, in good set terms, the
wickedness of our fathers, which now prevented us
from enjoying at our ease the sweets of friendly
converse.
Before breakfast the next morning he was with
me again, with a striped abbas over his black
gown, and a staff in his hand, prepared to accom-
pany me outside the walls. I was surprised. He
had told me that he had not left the convent for
A A 2
281
and welcomed rest. In the evening the superior
came to my room, and again we mingled the names
of Greece and America. I was weary, and talked
with the old man when I would rather have been
asleep ; but with his own hands he drew mats
and cushions around me, and made me so comfort-
able, that I could not refuse to indulge him with the
rare luxury of conversation on the subject of his
native land, and of the world from which he was
shut out for ever. He was single-hearted and sim-
ple, or, perhaps I should rather say, simple and ig-
norant; I remember, for instance, when we had
been embarrassed for a time by the absence of the
younger monk who served as our interpreter, the
old man told me very gravely, and as a new thing,
which I could not be expected to know, but which
he did not think the less of me for not knowing,
that formerly, in the time of Adam, all mankind
spoke but one tongue ; and that men became wick-
ed, and built a tower to reach to heaven (he had
forgotten its name), and that God had destroyed it
and confounded the impious builders with a variety
of tongues. I expressed my astonishment as in
duty bound, and denounced, in good set terms, the
wickedness of our fathers, which now prevented us
from enjoying at our ease the sweets of friendly
converse.
Before breakfast the next morning he was with
me again, with a striped abbas over his black
gown, and a staff in his hand, prepared to accom-
pany me outside the walls. I was surprised. He
had told me that he had not left the convent for
A A 2