One Hundred Merrie And Delightsome Stories Part 73

STORY THE NINETY-SIXTH -- A GOOD DOG. [96]

_Of a foolish and rich village cure who buried his dog in the church-yard; for which cause he was summoned before his Bishop, and how he gave 60 gold crowns to the Bishop, and what the Bishop said to him--which you will find related here._

Listen if you please to what happened the other day to a simple village cure. This good cure had a dog which he had brought up, and which surpa.s.sed every other dog in the country in fetching a stick out of the water, or bringing a hat that his master had forgotten, and many other tricks. In short, this wise and good dog excelled in everything, and his master so loved him that he never tired of singing his praises.

At last, I know not how, whether he ate something that disagreed with him, or whether he was too hot or too cold, the poor dog became very ill, and died, and went straightway to wherever all good dogs do go.

What did the honest cure do? You must know that his vicarage adjoined the church-yard, and when he saw his poor dog quit this world, he thought so wise a beast ought not to be without a grave, so he dug a hole near the door of his house, and in the church-yard, and there buried his dog. I do not know if he gave the dog a monument and an epitaph, I only know that the news of the good dog's death spread over the village, and at last reached the ears of the Bishop, together with the report that his master had given him holy burial.

The cure was summoned to appear before the Bishop, who sent a sergeant to fetch him.

"Alas!" said the cure, "what have I done, and why have I to appear before the Bishop? I am much surprised at receiving this summons."

"As for me," said the sergeant, "I do not know what it is for, unless it is because you buried your dog in the holy ground which is reserved for the bodies of Christians."

"Ah," thought the cure to himself, "that must be it," and it occurred to him that he had done wrong, but he knew that he could easily escape being put into prison, by paying a fine, for the Lord Bishop--G.o.d be praised--was the most avaricious prelate in the Kingdom, and only kept those about him who knew how to bring grist to the mill.

"At any rate I shall have to pay, and it may as well be soon as late."

On the appointed day, he appeared before the Bishop, who immediately delivered a long sermon about the sin of burying a dog in consecrated ground, and enlarged on the offence so wonderfully that he made it appear that the cure had done something worse than deny G.o.d; and at the end he ordered the cure to be put in prison.

When the cure found that he was to be shut up in the stone box, he demanded permission to be heard, and the Bishop gave him leave to speak.

You must know that there were a number of notable persons at this convocation--the judge, the prosecutor, the secretaries, and notaries, advocates, and procureurs, who were all much amused at this unusual case of the poor cure who had buried his dog in consecrated ground.

The cure spoke briefly in his defence, to this effect.

"Truly, my Lord Bishop, if you had known my poor dog as well as I did, you would not be surprised that I gave him Christian burial, for his like was never seen;" and then he began to recount his doings.

"And as he was so good and wise when he was living, he was still more so at his death; for he made a beautiful will, and, as he knew your poverty and need, he left you fifty golden crowns, which I now bring you."

So saying, he drew the money from his bosom and gave it to the Bishop, who willingly received it, and greatly praised the good dog, and approved of his will, and was glad to know that he had received honourable sepulture.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 97.jpg Bids and Biddings.]

STORY THE NINETY-SEVENTH -- BIDS AND BIDDINGS.

By Monseigneur De Launoy.

_Of a number of boon companions making good cheer and drinking at a tavern, and how one of them had a quarrel with his wife when he returned home, as you will hear._

A number of good fellows had once a.s.sembled to make good cheer at the tavern and drink as much as they could. And when they had eaten and drunk to G.o.d's praise and _usque ad Hebreos_ (*), and had paid their reckoning, some of them began to say, "How shall we be received by our wives when we return home?" "G.o.d knows if we shall be excommunicated."

"They will pluck us by the beard." "By Our Lady!" said one, "I am afraid to go home." "G.o.d help me! so am I," said another. "I shall be sure to hear a sermon for Pa.s.sion Sunday." "Would to G.o.d that my wife were dumb--I should drink more boldly than I do now."

(*) A pun on the word _ebreos_ (drunken).

So spoke all of them with one exception, and that was a good fellow who said,

"How now, good sirs? You all seem every miserable, and each has a wife who forbids him to go to the tavern, and is displeased if you drink.

Thank G.o.d my wife is not one of that sort, for if I drink ten--or even a hundred-times a day that is not enough for her,--in short I never knew an instance in which she did not wish I had drunk as much again. For, when I come back from the tavern she always wishes that I had the rest of the barrel in my belly, and the barrel along with it. Is not that a sign that I do not drink enough to please her?"

When his companions heard this argument they began to laugh, and all praised his wife, and then each one went his own way.

The good fellow we have mentioned, went home, where he found his wife not over friendly, and ready to scold him; and as soon as she saw him she began the usual lecture, and, as usual, she wished the rest of the barrel in his belly.

"Thank you, my dear, you are always much kinder than all the other women in the town for they all get wild if their husbands drink too much, but you--may G.o.d repay you--always wish that I may have a good draught that would last me all my days."

"I don't know that I wish that," she said, "but I pray to G.o.d that you may drink such a lot some day that you may burst."

Whilst they were conversing thus affectionately, the soup-kettle on the fire began to boil over, because the fire was too hot, and the good man, who noticed that his wife did not take it off the fire, said;

"Don't you see, wife, that the pot is boiling over?"

She was still angry and indignant, and replied;

"Yes, master, I see it."

"Well then, take it off, confound you! Do as I bid you."

"I will," she replied, "I will bid twelve pence." (*)

(*) There is a pun in the French on the two meanings of the verb _hausser_,--"to raise" and to "augment" or "run up."

"Oh, indeed, dame," said he, "is that your reply? Take off that pot, in G.o.d's name!"

"Well!" she said. "I will put it at seven _sous_. Is that high enough?"

"Ha, ha!" he said. "By St. John that shall not pa.s.s without three blows with a good stick."

He picked up a thick stick, and laid it with all his might across her back, saying as he did so,

"The lot is knocked down to you."