Years again passed by, one by one; the centuries were accomplished; and yet Philomen did not grow old. Ten times had he seen pass by that unhappy pilgrim condemned to wander for ever round the world. Each journey marked one century as this wandering Jew crossed the Jordan, near his little cabin, on the road to Jerusalem, that, ascending Golgotha, he might sue for mercy on the very spot where the blood had been shed of him whom he had despised! The centuries had all now passed, and one evening, when Philomen sat quietly by his hearth, the dark traveller entered once more. Midnight was the fatal hour. She rudely accosted him: "Come along now, old man! Thou shouldst long since have been in thy grave. No mercy for thee this time! Thou wouldst but mock me again, could I show pity for thee. Oh! how tired I am; so tired, so worried! To-day I have killed nearly three thousand Christians, then a whole race of infidels, and decimated an entire kingdom, with my well-tempered weapon, pestilence. Rich and poor, prelates and priests, I have upturned everything--everything. But I am horribly tired, and while awaiting the expiration of thy time, I will rest me a little here." Saying these words, she threw herself on the wooden stool that Jesus had gifted with supernatural powers. Then she began to jeer at the old man, speaking to him of the joys of life, of youth, of love, etc. When midnight tolled, she attempted to rise from the chair and spring at Philomen, who had wisely placed himself beyond her reach; but, nailed down upon this wonderful seat, she could not move! In vain she shook her glass, made deadly thrusts with her scythe! Then the good man went to his hearth, and kindled such a fire as nearly roasted her even at that distance. Her hour-glass was about falling to pieces, the handle of her scythe was nearly reduced to ashes, when, after a most vigorous dispute, she granted Philomen a new lease of five centuries more of life! Now, this was, as you know, the second time she had been caught in the same trap, and more enraged than ever, she went forth crying aloud that she should not be caught again; and good old Philomen lived on through the long years obtained by this trick. But everything of time must end; everything falls; everything dies; everything passes away. And these five centuries, too, were gathered with all that had gone before. But Death had learned prudence now, and did not venture near, sending a shaft from afar that pierced the good old man and sent him at once from life to death. But as he had lived so innocently and ever observed the laws of holy hospitality, God had a place prepared for him in his own beautiful Paradise.