Danbury Times

FOUR JARS OF GOLD
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

There was once upon a time a poor mason, or brick-layer in Grenada, who kept all the saints days and holidays, and Saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he grew poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his numerous family. One night he was roused from his first sleep by a knocking at his door. He opened it and beheld before him a tall meagre, cadaverous looking priest.

'Hark ye, honest friend!' said the stranger 'I have observed that you are a good Christian and one to be trusted; will you undertake a job this very night?'

'With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I am paid accordingly.'

'That you shall be; but you must suffer yourself to be blindfolded.'

To this the mason made no objection; so being hood-winked, he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and winding passages, until they stopped before the portal of a house. The priest then supplied a key, turned a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They entered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted through an echoing corridor, and a spacious hall to an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. In the centre was the dry basin of an old Moorish fountain. He paused for a moment, for a dreaming recollection of the place very distinctly came over him.

'Pray said he who occupied this house formerly?'

'A pest upon him!' cried the landlord, 'it was an old miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He was said to be immensely rich, and, having no relations, it was thought he would leave all his treasures to the church. He died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take possession of his wealth, but nothing could they find but a few ducats in a leather purse. The worst luck has fallen on me, for since his death, the old fellow continues to occupy my house without paying rent, and there's no taking the law of a dead man. The people pretend to hear the clinking of gold all night in the chamber where the old priest slept, as if he was counting over his money, and sometimes a groaning and moaning about the court. Whether true or false, these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain in it.'

'Enough,' said the mason sturdily; 'let me live in your house rent free until some tenant present, and I will engage to put it in repair, and to quiet the troubled spirit that disturbs it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not to be daunted by the devil himself even though he should come in the shape of a big bag of money!'

The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he moved with his family into the house and fulfilled all his engagements. By little and little he restored it to its former state; the clinking of gold was heard no more in the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbors, and became one of the richest men in Granada; he gave large sums to the church by way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and never revealed the secret of the vault, until on his death-bed to his son and heir.