And when anything new was planted, the boy led the old man to
the spot, that he might know that it was so many paces in such a
direction from the cell, and might feel the shape and texture of the
leaves, and learn its scent. And through the skill and knowledge of
the boy, the hermit was in no wise hindered from preparing his
accustomed remedies, for he knew the names and virtues of the herbs,
and where every plant grew. And when the sun shone, the boy would
guide his master's steps into the garden, and would lead him up to
certain flowers; but to those which had a perfume of their own the old
man could go without help, being guided by the scent. And as he
fingered their leaves and breathed their fragrance, he would say,
"Blessed be GOD for every herb of the field, but thrice blessed for
those that smell."
And at the end of the garden was set a bush of rosemary. "For," said
the hermit, "to this we must all come." Because rosemary is the herb
they scatter over the dead. And he knew where almost everything grew,
and what he did not know the boy told him.
Yet for all this, and though he had embraced poverty and solitude with
joy, in the service of GOD and man, yet so bitter was blindness to
him, that he bewailed the loss of his sight, with a grief that never
lessened.
"For," said he, "if it had pleased our Lord to send me any other
affliction, such as a continual pain or a consuming sickness, I would
have borne it gladly, seeing it would have left me free to see these
herbs, which I use for the benefit of the poor.
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