“I am not old, as you may judge from my appearance; although nearly five centuries have rolled by since my birth, I am scarcely forty.” I looked at his kindly features and bowed my assent to his assertion, knowing that stained-glass figures do not grow old when once they are permanently painted and burnt into the glass. He proceeded-- “My father, you must know, was Prior Aylmer, of St. Benet’s Abbey, Norfolk; and by some means appeared to fall into the evil ways of the sadly dissolute times in which he lived; at least he made one great slip, one that he did not try to palliate in any way, but took so to heart, that till the end of his days he lived an exemplary life, and gained the love of all those who were under his sway in the great abbey. “The monks used to notice that my father spent more time in the village than was compatible with his monastic life, but then, as ecclesiastics went in those days, he was a jolly fellow, and no one thought harm of his frequent absence from the duties of the monastery, till one day an event happened which set the whole brotherhood agog, and caused much scandal. “It was a simple, but very significant event; one so unusual, that every one was taken by surprise, so that the whole place was in a ferment of excitement. “It happened that the porter was very late in taking down the great bars which fastened the huge, heavy, oaken outer gate; so late indeed that several of the brethren were about at the time, and when the door swung open on its massive hinges, they saw just what the porter saw--a long osier-work basket, with a thong of parchment upon it bearing the words ‘For Father Aylmer.’ “The basket was quickly carried to the refectory and placed in the great arm-chair of the Prior, to await the arrival of that worthy to take his seat at the head of the table for the morning meal. “It had rested there but a short time, when a noise was heard within which caused a thrill to startle the slowly-assembling monks--it was the cry of a baby! “What was to be done? “Who would open the lid? “Should the Prior be called? “Whatever was best to do? All these questions were cut short by the entrance of the Prior himself. “Every man was immediately silent; mouths were closed, but ears and eyes were very wide open, and the question was in every one’s mind--‘What will he do with it?’ “He quietly opened the lid, and before all the assembly raised a baby form to view. “That baby was myself! “Before them all he blessed me, and in humble tones acknowledged his sin, at the same time taking an oath upon the crucifix that, till the grave closed over him, his tongue should not speak to woman more, neither should his form be seen outside the Abbey walls. “He lived thirty-five years after this startling event, but his oath he kept inviolate, and, as I have already said, he led an exemplary life, and died beloved and respected by all men, both lay and ecclesiastic.