A very nice book for young readers.
Excerpt ...
The Bishop of Hippo
Augustine, the bishop of Hippo in North Africa, wrote the words "The
End" at the bottom of a long parchment. In his vigorous scrawl he wrote the name of
the month, which was August, and the number of the year, which, as anno Domini 400,
meant 400 years after the birth of our Lord.
Dropping his reed pen, he opened and closed the fingers of his hand, tired with long
hours of writing. He had sat down at his stone desk after supper the night before. It was
dawn now. A pale, gray light drifted through the window of his bedroom-study.
He turned in his chair as he heard a shuffling sound in the hall behind him.
"Brother Porter," he called, "is that you?"
Brother Porter came in, carrying a broom made of twigs and shrubbery. He was a
doll-like old man, and one of his legs was shorter than the other.
"You are up early," the bishop said.
Brother Porter made a clucking sound, shaking his head. "No, your
lordship," he said, "I am not up early. You are up late." He clucked again.
"Last night," he went on, "you spent half the night writing. You did the
same the night before and the night before that. When are you going to get yourself some
sleep?"
The bishop laughed. Although he was forty-six years old, his laugh was as boisterous as a
boy's. "I will get plenty of sleep now," he said. "I have finished my
book."
"God be thanked." Brother Porter limped to the desk. He ran his eyes
over the parchments there. "You write so many books," he said. "What is
this one about?"
"Me," the bishop replied. "This book is the story of my life."
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