Who could be more delighted now than the priest? "Dear, noble
friend," he said to the canon, "for what price will you part with
that powder which has worked such miracles for us to-day? I would
sell all I have to purchase it, so great are its powers." "Truly,"
answered the canon, "it is dear to buy. Except myself and one hermit
there is no man in England who knows the secret." The priest pressed
him. "Do not fear, name any price you please. However high it may be
I will pay it gladly." "You have stood my friend, and therefore to
you I will sell it for £40," he said. "But be sure you keep the
matter a secret, men are so jealous of knowledge nowadays." The
priest made no demur, paid the money and took the powder. From that
day on he never saw the canon again, and whenever he made trial of
the powder his experiments failed.

Such was the dastard's trick that the false canon played on the
priest, and look you well, sirs, there are many like him, though none
I hope quite so wicked. To my mind there is something contrary to
God's will in such studies as these. Even the greatest philosophers
of old would not disclose the secret. Hear this tale of Plato taken
from an old book I once read. A disciple came to him asking the name
of the philosopher's stone. Said Plato, "It is called Magnesia." "But
that," replied the other, "is to explain one mystery by another yet
greater. Tell me, what is 'Magnesia'?" "It is a water made of
elements four," replied the master. "And what may these four be?"
"Ah!" said Plato. "That may I not tell. All we philosophers were
sworn to reveal it to no man, for God was jealous lest man should
have this knowledge unless it pleased Him to reveal it Himself." So,
friends, if it be God's will that the secret be kept, it is folly in
men to strive against God. Let the matter rest, and God bless all
good men. Amen.