7. Abbot John said to his brother, "I do not like working; I wish to be in peace, and to serve God without break, like an angel;" and he set off to the desert.
In a week's time he returned, and knocked at his brother's door, saying, "I am John."
His brother answered, "No, you are not; for John is an angel." He insisted, "Yes, but I am John."
His brother opened to him, saying, "If you are a man, why don't you work? If you are an angel, what do you knock for?"
From Chambers's Journal.
LITTLE THINGS.
Often, little things we hear,
Often, little things we see.
Waken thoughts that long have slept,
Deep down in our memory.
Strangely slight the circumstance
That has force to turn the mind,
Backward on the path of years,
To the loved scenes far behind!
'Tis the perfume of a flower.
Or a quaint, old-fashioned tune;
Or a song-bird 'mid the leaves.
Singing in the sunny June.
'Tis the evening star, mayhap.
In the gloaming silver bright;
Or a gold and purple cloud
Waning in the western light.
'Tis the rustling of a dress.
Or a certain tone of voice,
That can make the pulses throb.
That can bid the heart rejoice.
Ah, my heart! But not of joy
Must alone thy history tell.
Sorrow, shame, and bitter tears
Little things recall as well.