Father Clery was visiting Bernard, a man who couldn’t stop laughing. His daughter was worried he was eating himself to an early grave and had summoned the Father, who had the unfortunate task of ceasing Bernard’s laughter.
“What happened next, Father,” the curious Bernard wanted to know.
“Every season, the farmer waited for a letter of his two remaining sons,” said Father Clery.
“Did he ever hear from them again?”
“I’m afraid he died during a winter storm,” Father said. “Many said he died a broken man. He was buried next to his sons’ and wife. A year came and went and it wasn’t until autumn some one came walking down the road he had seen his sons’ leave years before.”
“Who was it, Father?”
“It was his youngest son,” said Father Clery. “He had been released that summer and was finally coming home. He hadn’t heard from his father or his brothers for many years. When he saw the graves he finally understood why… His father had made a grave for his missing son that never came home.”
By the time Father Clery finished, Bernard was in tears, crying like he never did before.
“I’m sorry for telling you the story, Bernard.”
“Oh,” blubbered Bernard. “It was such a sad story. I can’t help but think unhappy thoughts. I feel no joy within me no more. How terrible, just terrible.”
Bernard couldn’t stop crying. Father Clery stood up
Father slid open the doors and face the worried faces of the daughter, her husband and the doctor.
“Well?” said the husband.
“I think I’ve cured him of his jolliness,” said Father Clery. “If you don’t need me anymore, I best be going.”
Father Clery got back on his coach and continued his journey down the countryside. http://www.ontalkingterms.com/