inclined to pity than to harshness. Poor old creatures! they do not know any better. At least they have been kind to us. We were strangers, and they took us in. We had spent a few days together in perfect friendliness, and now felt a little grieved that we should see their grizzled locks no more; though we were amused to the last by slight tokens that they were not quite above some touch of human infirmity. The morning that we were to leave, we were up very early, when, as I threw open the door, I saw the Econome, or business manager, with whom we had had most to do, walking up and down the corridor. It was early for the good man to be astir. But he had heard that the Howadjis were to leave, and he could not have them depart without a tender farewell. It were base to indulge a suspicion that his early appearance had anything to do with the napoleon that was presently slipped into his hand. But that certainly did not abate the fervor of his demonstrations. He was not only friendly, but affectionate. He could not leave me out of his sight; he clung to me like a brother. He joked and laughed with me; he clapped me on the back.
The only place in the Convent which we had not yet explored, was the refectory, where the monks take their meals. On our expressing a desire to see it, he led the way. It is in a far corner of the Convent, in a hall, which, with its floor of stone and high arched roof, might have been a chapel, and indeed has an altar in it, and a small pulpit, or reading-desk, from which one of the brethren reads while the rest partake of their meagre repast. The table did not look attractive. The only food was hard bread, with soup of vegetables served in tin saucers, regular state's-prison fare; in fact, it was worse than is served to the convicts in any penitentiary in America. During Lent they have but one meal a day, and at
