I now learned from the monk that the post of Hermit of the Well was an
office of which the present anchorite was by no means the first tenant.
The well was one of those springs, frequent in Catholic countries, to
which a legend and a sanctity are attached; and twice a year--once in
the spring, once in the autumn--the neighbouring peasants flocked
together, on a stated day, to drink, and lose their diseases. As the
spring most probably did possess some medicinal qualities, a few
extraordinary cures had occurred, especially among those pious persons
who took not biennial, but constant draughts; and to doubt its holiness
was downright heresy.

Now, hard by this well was a cavern, which, whether first formed by
nature or art, was now, upon the whole, constructed into a very
commodious abode; and here, for years beyond the memory of man, some
solitary person had fixed his abode to dispense and to bless the water,
to be exceedingly well fed by the surrounding peasants, to wear a long
gown of serge or sackcloth, and to be called the Hermit of the Well. So
fast as each succeeding anchorite died there were enough candidates
eager to supply his place; for it was no bad /metier/ to some penniless
imposter to become the quack and patentee of a holy specific. The
choice of these candidates always rested with the superior of the
neighbouring monastery; and it is not impossible that he made an
indifferently good percentage upon the annual advantages of his
protection and choice.

At the time the traveller appeared, the former hermit had just departed
this life, and it was, therefore, to the vacancy thus occasioned that he
had procured himself to be elected. The incumbent appeared quite of a
different mould from the former occupants of the hermitage. He
accepted, it is true, the gifts laid at regular periods upon a huge