After Which We
Relapsed Once More Into The Local Quiescent State Of Complete Rest.
It
must not be supposed that we were idle; there were always occupations
which by degrees I hope improved the place, and to a certain degree the
people.
Occasionally I asked the old monks to sit and smoke their
cigarettes in our "rachkooba," when they sipped their hot coffee, and
explained difficult theological questions to my intense edification; of
course I always listened, but never argued. My particular friend old
Neophitos treated me to long stories which he imagined must be new and
interesting, especially the history of Joseph and his brethren, which he
several times recounted from beginning to end with tears of sympathy in
his eyes at Joseph's love for the youngest brother Benjamin. The Garden
of Eden, the Deluge, including the account of Noah's Ark, and several
equally modern and entertaining stories, I always listened to with
commendable attention. Yet even in this solitude, where the chapel-bell
on Saturday night, and at daybreak upon Sunday mornings, was in harmony
with the external peaceful surroundings, and it appeared as though
discord could never enter the walls of Trooditissa, the old monks had
their cares and difficulties.
The principal cause of trouble was "servants!" I was quite surprised, as
I thought we were nearer heaven in this spot than in any earthly
locality I had ever visited; but even here the question of "servants"
was an irritation to the nerves of the patient monks.
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