There was also a MONK, a splendid chap, who inspected his monastery’s lands. He was a man’s man who loved to hunt and who might one day become the head of his monastery. He kept many elegant horses, and when he rode them you could hear their bridle bells jingle as clearly as the bells of his monastery. He liked all things modern and new and didn’t care for old things, especially St. Benedict’s rule that monks should live simply and devote themselves to prayer and work. He didn’t give a damn for the notion that says monks can’t be hunters or anything but churchmen. I myself agreed with him. Why should he drive himself crazy reading books and working inside all the time? How is that going to accomplish anything useful? To hell with St. Augustine’s stupid rules. Instead, the monk was a horseman, and he kept fast greyhounds. He loved to go hunting, and his favorite catch was a fine fat swan. He spared no expense pursuing this hobby. It was therefore no surprise to see that the finest fur lined the cuffs of his sleeves or that he used a fancy golden pin to fasten his hood. In fact, it appeared to be a love knot, a symbol of enduring love. He had a shiny bald head and his face seemed to glisten. His eyes rolled about in his head and seemed to burn like fire. His brown horse was well groomed, his boots were well worn, and his skin looked healthy, not pale like a ghost’s. Indeed, he was a fine-looking churchman.