The Saint and the Goblin

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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The little stone Saint occupied a retired niche in a side aisle ofthe old cathedral. No one quite remembered who he had been, butthat in a way was a guarantee of respectability. At least so theGoblin said. The Goblin was a very fine specimen of quaint stonecarving, and lived up in the corbel on the wall opposite the nicheof the little Saint. He was connected with some of the bestcathedral folk, such as the queer carvings in the choir stalls andchancel screen, and even the gargoyles high up on the roof. All thefantastic beasts and manikins that sprawled and twisted in wood orstone or lead overhead in the arches or away down in the crypt werein some way akin to him; consequently he was a person of recognisedimportance in the cathedral world.The little stone Saint and the Goblin got on very well together,though they looked at most things from different points of view.The Saint was a philanthropist in an old fashioned way; he thoughtthe world, as he saw it, was good, but might be improved. Inparticular he pitied the church mice, who were miserably poor. TheGoblin, on the other hand, was of opinion that the world, as he knewit, was bad, but had better be let alone. It was the function ofthe church mice to be poor."All the same," said the Saint, "I feel very sorry for them.""Of course you do," said the Goblin; "it's YOUR function to feelsorry for them. If they were to leave off being poor you couldn'tfulfil your functions. You'd be a sinecure."He rather hoped that the Saint would ask him what a sinecure meant,but the latter took refuge in a stony silence. The Goblin might beright, but still, he thought, he would like to do something for thechurch mice before winter came on; they were so very poor.Whilst he was thinking the matter over he was startled by somethingfalling between his feet with a hard metallic clatter. It was abright new thaler; one of the cathedral jackdaws, who collected suchthings, had flown in with it to a stone cornice just above hisniche, and the banging of the sacristy door had startled him intodropping it. Since the invention of gunpowder the family nerveswere not what they had been."What have you got there?" asked the Goblin."A silver thaler," said the Saint. "Really," he continued, "it ismost fortunate; now I can do something for the church mice.""How will you manage it?" asked the Goblin.The Saint considered."I will appear in a vision to the vergeress who sweeps the floors.I will tell her that she will find a silver thaler between my feet,and that she must take it and buy a measure of corn and put it on myshrine. When she finds the money she will know that it was a truedream, and she will take care to follow my directions. Then themice will have food all the winter.""Of course YOU can do that," observed the Goblin. "Now, I can onlyappear to people after they have had a heavy supper of indigestiblethings. My opportunities with the vergeress would be limited.There is some advantage in being a saint after all."All this while the coin was lying at the Saint's feet. It was cleanand glittering and had the Elector's arms beautifully stamped uponit. The Saint began to reflect that such an opportunity was toorare to be hastily disposed of. Perhaps indiscriminate charitymight be harmful to the church mice. After all, it was theirfunction to be poor; the Goblin had said so, and the Goblin wasgenerally right."I've been thinking," he said to that personage, "that perhaps itwould be really better if I ordered a thaler's worth of candles tobe placed on my shrine instead of the corn."He often wished, for the look of the thing, that people wouldsometimes burn candles at his shrine; but as they had forgotten whohe was it was not considered a profitable speculation to pay himthat attention."Candles would be more orthodox," said the Goblin."More orthodox, certainly," agreed the Saint, "and the mice couldhave the ends to eat; candle-ends are most fattening."The Goblin was too well bred to wink; besides, being a stone goblin,it was out of the question.* * *"Well, if it ain't there, sure enough!" said the vergeress nextmorning. She took the shining coin down from the dusty niche andturned it over and over in her grimy hands. Then she put it to hermouth and bit it."She can't be going to eat it," thought the Saint, and fixed herwith his stoniest stare."Well," said the woman, in a somewhat shriller key, "who'd havethought it! A saint, too!"Then she did an unaccountable thing. She hunted an old piece oftape out of her pocket, and tied to crosswise, with a big loop,round the thaler, and hung it round the neck of the little Saint.Then she went away."The only possible explanation," said the Goblin, "is that it's abad one."* * *"What is that decoration your neighbour is wearing?" asked a wyvernthat was wrought into the capital of an adjacent pillar.The Saint was ready to cry with mortification, only, being of stone,he couldn't."It's a coin of--ahem!--fabulous value," replied the Goblintactfully.And the news went round the Cathedral that the shrine of the littlestone Saint had been enriched by a priceless offering."After all, it's something to have the conscience of a goblin," saidthe Saint to himself.The church mice were as poor as ever. But that was their function.

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