{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26130/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26130","id":"gutenberg_26130","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26130","summary":null,"tags":["Camps -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian saints -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Emmy and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BY CANDLE-LIGHT.\n\n_Frontispiece._]\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES OF THE SAINTS BY CANDLE-LIGHT\n\n\nBY\n\nVERA C. BARCLAY\n\n          1922\n\n          THE FAITH PRESS, LTD.\n          LONDON: THE FAITH HOUSE, 22, BUCKINGHAM ST.,\n          CHARING CROSS, W.C. 2\n\n\n\n\n                    =TO=\n\n                THE MEMORY OF\n\n              SIXER FRANK SPARKS\n\n                    AND\n\n               SECOND BOB SMITH\n\n  TWO FAITHFUL CUBS OF THE \"CARDINAL'S OWN\" PACK\n\n     THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY THEIR OLD WOLF.\n\n                    R.I.P.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nNINE DAYS IN CAMP, AND NINE STORIES BY CANDLE-LIGHT\n\n  ABOUT THIS BOOK                                              1\n\n  THE FIRST DAY: GETTING THERE. THE STORY OF ST. BENEDICT      2\n\n  THE SECOND DAY: THE STORY OF ST. GUTHLAC                    17\n\n  THE THIRD DAY: THE STORY OF ST. MARTIN                      27\n\n  THE FOURTH DAY: THE STORY OF ST. EDMUND, KING AND MARTYR    42\n\n  THE FIFTH DAY (SUNDAY): THE STORY OF ST. FRANCIS (I.)       56\n\n  THE SIXTH DAY: THE STORY OF ST. FRANCIS (II.)               67\n\n  THE SEVENTH DAY: THE STORY OF ST. ANTONY                    83\n\n  THE EIGHTH DAY: THE STORY OF ST. PATRICK                    96\n\n  THE NINTH DAY: THE STORY OF ST. GEORGE                     107\n\n  GOOD-BYE                                                   118\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES OF THE SAINTS BY CANDLE-LIGHT\n\nNINE DAYS IN CAMP, AND NINE STORIES BY CANDLE-LIGHT\n\n\n\n\nABOUT THIS BOOK\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were fifteen Cubs who spent nine wonderful days\nin camp. They were London Cubs, and the camp was on a beautiful little\ngreen island whose rocky shore ran down in green, tree-covered points\ninto the bluest sea you ever saw. These nine days were the most splendid\ndays in those Cubs' lives. And so they often think of them, and dream\nabout them, and live them over again in memory.\n\nSo that they may more easily go over those days their Old Wolf has\nwritten down all about them in this book. Perhaps other Cubs will like\nto come away, in imagination, to that fair, green island, and so have a\nshare in the nine days.\n\nNow, one of the very \"special things\" about those days in camp were the\ncandle-light stories which the Cubs listened to every night, seated in a\nbig, happy pile, pyjama-clad, on their palliasses. All day they used to\nlook forward to those stories, and sometimes, in the middle of a\nshrimping expedition, or a paddling party, one or another would remark,\n\"Story to-night, boys!\" and turn his thumbs up to show he was pleased at\nthe thought. And so you will find the candle-light stories, too, in this\nbook; and remember that all the stories in this book are _true_--both\nthose about the Cubs and those about the Saints.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST DAY\n\n\nThe train steamed slowly out of Victoria Station. \"Now we're off!\"\nshouted a Cub, and he and all the others began to jump for joy, which\nwas not easy in a railway compartment packed like a sardine-tin. Then\nsomeone began to sing the Pack chorus, and everyone joined in with all\ntheir strength:\n\n          Let the great big world keep turning,\n          Now I've joined a Wolf Cub Pack;\n          And I only know\n          That I want to go\n          To camp--to _camp_--to CAMP!\n          Oh, I long to set off marching\n          With my kit-bag on my back.\n          Let the great big world keep on turning round,\n          Now I've joined a Wolf Cub Pack!\n\nThen someone yelled \"Are we down-hearted?\" and the Cubs yelled \"No!\" so\nloudly that Akela thought she would be deafened for life.\n\nPresently the train ran out into the country, and plodded along between\nwoods and fields. And the early morning sun shone brightly, and the sky\nwas very blue. The country, the country! And, very soon, the sea! There\nwere some of them who had never been to the country, and \"Spongey,\" the\nyoungest of the party, had never even been in a real train.\n\n\"Talk about _hot_!\" said someone, panting, when the train had thundered\non for about an hour. And, my word, it _was_ hot! Besides, there were\nblacks and dust, and everyone began to get very grimy--specially the\npeople who were eating bread-and-jam and sticky fruit, and the people\nwho had to crawl under the seat to pick up things that had got lost.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said Akela, \"we shall be in the sea this evening, and then\nwe shall be cool.\"\n\nThat started everyone jumping for joy again, of course.\n\nPresently the train passed Arundel Castle--its white towers and turrets\nand battlements rising up amidst the dark green woods like an enchanted\ncastle in the days of knights and fairies--and the Cubs learnt that\nthere are castles in real life as well as in story-books.\n\nAfter that they began looking out of the window to see who would be the\nfirst one to catch sight of the sea. \"Bunny\" was the first to, and his\nfriend Bert, the Senior Sixer, came a close second.\n\nAt last the train got to Portsmouth Harbour, and, shouldering their\nkit-bags, the Cubs ran down on to the steamer.\n\nThe harbour was thrilling: battleships, cruisers, torpedo-boats, the\nRoyal yacht, the Admiralty yacht, and, most interesting of all, Nelson's\nship, the _Victory_. As if the steamer knew that a crowd of eager Cubs\nwere longing to see all round the _Victory_, it went out of its way to\nsteam right round it, slowly and quite near, and the Cubs had a splendid\nview.\n\nThe boys all wanted to be the first to _touch_ the sea, but Bunny, who\nhad _seen_ it first, forestalled them again, by letting down a ball of\nstring over the edge of the boat and pulling it up all wet.\n\nAt last the ship reached the Isle of Wight, and the Cubs and their great\nmountain of camp luggage went down the long pier. I forgot to tell you\nthat besides Akela there was the Senior Sixer's father and mother, who\nwere coming to help look after the camp--they became the \"Father and\nMother of Camp\"; and there was also a lady who was a very kind camp\nGodmother. The grown-ups and the luggage were soon packed into a large\nmotor-car, and then, relieved of their kit-bags, the Cubs set out to\nwalk the two miles along the sea-front to the village called Sea View.\nThe way lay along a thing called a \"sea-wall\"--a high stone wall about\nsix feet broad running along above the shore, with the sea lapping up\nagainst it at high tide. Along this the Cubs walked (or rather ran and\njumped), their eyes big with wonder at the great stretch of blue, blue\nsea, with here and there a distant sailing-boat, and, above, the sky\neven bluer than the sea. \"I didn't know the sky _could_ be so blue!\"\nsaid a Cub; and that was just how they all felt.\n\nIt was very hot walking in the midday sun. There was no hurry--nine days\nto do just as they liked in--so halfway along the sea-wall the Cubs and\nAkela scrambled down some steep stone steps on to a tiny stretch of sand\nnot yet covered by the incoming tide. Boots and stockings were soon off,\nsleeves and shorts tucked up, and everybody paddling deep in the cool\ngreen water.\n\nWhen they had all got thoroughly cool they went on their way, and at\nlast arrived at the Stable.\n\nThis was where they were to sleep. It consisted of a courtyard, a couple\nof stalls, a coach-house, a shed, and two tiny rooms. Akela occupied one\nof these, and the Cubs were divided into two groups. The Stable was in\ncharge of Bert, the Senior Sixer, and in his stall he had Bunny (a\nSecond), Dick (a big Cub very nearly ready to go up to the Scouts), and\nPatsy, a small but lively Irishman. Sam, another Sixer, had in his stall\nfour young terrors--Terry, Wooler, Jack, and \"Spongey\" Ward. Then there\nwas the coach-house. This was in charge of Bill, the last Senior Sixer,\nnow a Cub Instructor. The other occupants were Jim, a Sixer (Bill's\nyoung brother), \"Mac,\" a Second, two brothers, \"Big Andy\" and \"Little\nAndy,\" and a rather new Cub called Bob.\n\nIt took a good while to stuff the palliasses with straw and unpack. But\nwhen this was finished everyone had a good wash and changed into cool\nold clothes--shorts and cotton shirts. Tea followed, in a jolly old\ngarden behind the bake-house. There was a seesaw in it, and the grass\nwas long and soft, and the shade of the apple-trees very cool. Then the\nparty ran up the hill to the camp field. Here there was a lot to do: the\nbell tent to be pitched, the fireplace made, wood to be chopped, water\nfetched, all the pots and pans unpacked, a swing and a couple of\nhammocks to be put up, the two great sacks of loaves to be fetched, and,\noh! a hundred other things. But all the Cubs set to and did their best,\nand at last all was ready.\n\n\"Now for the shore!\" said Akela, and everyone cheered and ran for their\ntowels and bathing-drawers. It was only a few minutes' walk down to the\nmost lovely shore you can imagine--stretches and stretches of golden\nsand and little, lapping waves. On one side you could see rocky points\nrunning down into the greeny-blue sea, with trees growing right down to\nthe shore. An old, brown-sailed coal barge moved slowly past on the\ngentle wind, the many browns of its patched sails forming a rich splash\nof colour in the evening sun. The Cubs soon turned into \"water babies.\"\nBoots and stockings had been left behind at the Stable, and now they got\nrid of clothes as well. How cool the sea was! That first bathe seemed to\nwash away all the heat and smoke and grubbiness of dear old London.\n\nAfter the bathe came a splendid paddle among brown, sea-weedy rocks, and\nthe Cubs caught their first baby crabs and found their first shells, and\ngot just as wet as they liked.\n\nBut the sun was sinking down behind the grey line of sea, and the clock\nthere is inside every Cub was telling supper-time. So, with hands full\nof sea-weed and shells, they made their way back to camp.\n\nThe camp-fire was burning merrily. \"Godmother,\" in a large blue overall,\nwas stirring a steaming dixie of cocoa, and \"Mother and Father\" were\ncutting up bread and cheese.\n\nAfter supper there was time for a little play in the field. Then, as it\nbegan to get dusk, a whistle-blast called the Cubs in for night prayers.\nIt was still quite light enough to read, so each Cub had a little\nhomemade book of Morning and Night Camp Prayers. Kneeling in a quiet\ncorner of the field, with just the evening sky overhead, with a pale\nstar or two beginning to appear, it was easy to feel God near and to\npray. The camp prayers started with \"A prayer that we may pray well.\" It\nwas a very old prayer, really, but it seemed just to fit the Cubs, and\nhelp them to _do their best_ in their prayers as in all other things.\nThe prayer was this: \"Open Thou, O Lord, my mouth to bless Thy Holy\nName; cleanse also my heart from wandering thoughts, so that I may\nworthily, devoutly, and attentively recite these prayers, and deserve to\nbe heard in the sight of Thy Divine Majesty. Through Christ Our Lord.\nAmen.\" Then followed the \"Our Father\" and some short prayers. And after\nthat the Cubs said altogether: \"I confess to Almighty God that I have\nsinned against Him in thought, word, and deed.\" Then Akela read out very\nslowly the following questions, and each Cub answered them in his\nheart--not out loud, but silently, for God only to hear:\n\n\"Have I done my best to pray well when saying my private prayers and at\ncamp prayers?\n\n\"Have I really meant to please God to-day?\n\n\"Have I done my best in my orderly duties, and in other things I have\nhad to do?\n\n\"Have I given in to other people quickly and cheerfully when given an\norder?\n\n\"Have I spoken as I should not?\n\n\"Have I been disobedient?\n\n\"Have I been unkind to another boy--selfish? quarrelsome? unfair?\n\n\"Have I told a lie?\n\n\"Have I done anything else I am sorry for?\"\n\nThen, after a pause, Akela said:\n\n\"Tell God you are truly sorry, on your honour as a Cub, that you have\ngrieved Him by the sins of to-day.\"\n\nThen there was perfect silence for a moment, and after that, the Cubs\nsaid, all together:\n\n\"May Almighty God have mercy upon us, and forgive us our sins, and bring\nus to life everlasting.\"\n\nThen they said a short psalm, and the following beautiful little hymn:\n\n          Now with the fast departing light,\n          Maker of all, we ask of Thee,\n          Of Thy great mercy, through the night\n          Our guardian and defence to be.\n\n          Far off let idle visions fly,\n          And dreams that might disturb our sleep;\n          Naught shall we fear if Thou art nigh,\n          Our souls and bodies safe to keep.\n\n          Father of mercies, hear our cry;\n          Hear us, O sole-begotten Son!\n          Who with the Holy Ghost most high\n          Reignest while endless ages run. Amen.\n\nThen came \"A prayer that we may be forgiven any wandering thoughts we\nhave had while reciting these prayers,\" and, to end up with, \"Our\nFather\" once again, because it is the prayer that Christ Our Lord\nspecially told His friends to use.\n\nThe nine o'clock gun booms out across the Solent as the Cubs and Akela,\nhaving bidden good-night to Father and Mother and Godmother, walk down\nthe hill to the Stable. The sea looks like a great piece of shimmering\ngrey silk. \"Look at the little twinkle lights!\" says a Cub. It is the\nstreet lamps over on the mainland, but they look like so many winking\ndiamonds. There is quite a cluster of them on the grey ghost of a\nbattleship, and the old, round fort has a light which looks like the red\nend of a cigar. \"Please, _please_ let us go down to the front and look\nat the little twinkling lights,\" beg the Cubs. So, on condition they get\nundressed in five minutes, Akela says \"Yes.\"\n\nA few minutes later the Stable and the Coach-house are having an\nundressing race. One of the two tiny rooms has been made into a little\nchapel. In less than two minutes the first Cub ready whisks once round\nthe yard in his night-shirt, like a white moth in the dusk, and into the\nchapel to say his prayers. The door stands open. In the red light of the\ntiny lamp you can see the little white form kneeling on the floor, very\nquiet and devout. Presently he is silently joined by another--there is\nonly room for two, it is such a wee chapel. Several impatient people in\npyjamas think it would be fun to start jazzing in the courtyard, till\nAkela warns them, \"No story if you start ragging.\"\n\nSoon all prayers are said, and the people in the Coach-house are in bed,\nand ready to \"invite\" the Stable. The Stable having been duly invited,\nits eight occupants come in, and each finds a place on a palliasse. It\nis a warm, still night. The great doors of the Coach-house stand wide\nopen. The stars are out thick by this time. Little black bats flit and\nswoop about in the darkness. If you keep very still you can just hear\nthe gentle \"hshshsh, hshshsh\" of the sea. The candle flickers as the\nnight gives a little sigh. A few Cubs are rolling about on their straw\nbeds. \"Shut up, all!\" commands an imperious Sixer. \"Now, miss, go\nahead.\"\n\nAkela is sitting on a palliasse already occupied by two people. Silence\nreigns, for these Cubs belong to a story-telling Pack, and it is almost\nthe only time they are ever quite quiet. \"Well,\" begins Akela, \"many\nhundreds of years ago there lived a boy----\"\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. BENEDICT.\n\nMany hundreds of years ago there lived a boy called Benedict. He lived\nin Italy. His father and mother were rich people, and lived in a\nbeautiful house on a beautiful estate. St. Benedict and his twin sister\nmust have been very happy playing among the olive-trees and vines of\nsunny Italy, where the sky is nearly always blue, and where there are\nall sorts of lovely wild-flowers and fruits we don't get in England, and\nlizards and butterflies and all sorts of things.\n\nSt. Benedict was brought up a good Christian, though lots of the people\nround were still pagans in those days. There were terrible wars and\ntroubles going on in Italy and in all the countries round, like there\nhave been in our days. But the boy Benedict in his happy home knew\nlittle of these. Little did he know that the beautiful fields of Italy\nwere being left to be overgrown with weeds and over-run with wild\nbeasts; that the children had never heard of God; that the poor were\ndying of starvation. To him the world was a happy place, where one\nplayed and had a good time, and where people loved Christ and obeyed His\nwords. But some day he was to learn the truth. For God was going to use\nthe boy Benedict to do more than any _one_ man has ever done to\n_civilize_ the world. This story I'm telling you is the story of how St.\nBenedict discovered all God's great plan for him, and worked it out, bit\nby bit.\n\nWhen St. Benedict had learnt all that his tutors could teach him at home\nhis father sent him to the great city of Rome to learn there from the\nscholars and learned men, and attend lectures and classes. St. Benedict\nwas a very clever boy, and he must have got on very quickly and pleased\nhis masters very much. He could probably have carried off all sorts of\nprizes and won great fame and praise for himself, but there was\nsomething which stopped him caring for things like that. In the great\ncity of Rome he saw two things--one of them was all sorts of wicked,\nselfish, horrible, and ungodly pleasures in which men wasted their lives\nand altogether forgot God; and the other was the beautiful, holy lives\nof the Christians, many of whom could tell wonderful stories of the\nmartyrs who had been killed in Rome not so very long before, and whose\nbodies lay in the Catacombs. There were some beautiful churches in the\ncity, and St. Benedict loved to go to the solemn services. As he knelt\nthere in the holy stillness, or listened to the chanting, he began to\n_think_. And more and more he felt that all the glamour and selfish\npleasures and greediness of the people was stupid and wrong, and that\nwhat was really worth having was a good conscience, and peace, and the\nfriendship of God. And as he thought, he began to care less and less for\nhis learning and his chances of glory, and he began to feel as if he\nwanted to get right away from people and have the chance of thinking\nabout God.\n\nWhen St. Benedict had these feelings he knew they came from God, and so,\ninstead of not listening and just letting himself get keen on his study\nand his amusements, he made up his mind that he would always _do his\nbest_ to follow God's will, and would keep his heart _always listening_,\nso that if God _did_ want to call him away to some special kind of life\nhe would be ready to hear and to obey.\n\nWell, when anybody does this God does not fail to tell him what to do,\nand so, when St. Benedict had been seven years in Rome, and was still\nonly a boy, God made known to him that he must leave Rome, and his\nfriends and his masters, and go right away into the mountains. His old\nnurse, Cyrilla, had always stayed with him, faithfully; and now she\ndecided to go with him wherever it was that God was leading him.\n\nSo, one day, St. Benedict and Cyrilla set out secretly, and made their\nway by hidden paths towards the mountains. At last they reached a\ncertain village, and St. Benedict went into the church to pray God to\nmake known His will. When he came out the peasants who lived near the\nchurch pressed him to stay with them. St. Benedict took their kindness\nas a sign that it was God's will, so he and his old nurse settled down\nin the village.\n\nIt was while the boy was living here that (so the old books tell us) a\nmiracle happened which made people feel sure that God was specially\npleased with him. One day, as St. Benedict returned home from the church\nwhere he had been praying, he found his old nurse very unhappy; in fact,\nshe was crying. This distressed him very much, because he hated to see\nother people miserable. At first he wondered why Cyrilla was crying, and\nthen he saw the cause. She had accidentally broken an earthenware bowl\nthat one of the good villagers had lent her. Full of pity for his old\nfriend, St. Benedict took up the two pieces and went outside the house\nwith them, and knelt down. Then he prayed very hard that the bowl might\nbe mended. And, as he opened his eyes and looked at it, sure enough, it\nwas whole! Very pleased, and thinking how good God is to those who\nreally trust Him, he ran into the house and gave it to Cyrilla.\n\nSt. Benedict had not thought of himself, but only of God's wonderful\npower and kindness. But Cyrilla and the village people to whom she told\nthe miracle all began to talk a lot about St. Benedict, and say he was a\nyoung saint, since he could do miracles. People even came in from the\nplaces round to stare at him. Do you think this pleased him? No; he\nwasn't that sort of boy. If he had been, God would never have done\nanything for him. He was very distressed at the way people went on; and\nmore and more he felt that God was calling him away, and had something\nvery important to say to him. And one day it came to him that he must\nleave even his faithful old nurse and go away. You can imagine how\nterribly sad he must have been at that thought, not only because he\nloved her and had always had her near him since he could remember, but\nbecause he knew how very, very much she loved him, and that if he left\nher she would be sad and lonely, with no one to comfort her. But you\nremember what I told you about how St. Benedict had made up his mind to\ndo his best always to carry out God's will, and not give in to himself\nand pretend he had not heard; so, because he knew that it is more\nimportant to be faithful to God than to any person on earth, he made up\nhis mind to go away. He did not tell his old nurse, but one day he set\nout, alone.\n\nHe must have felt very strongly that it was God's will, otherwise he\nwould not have dared go out all alone and unarmed into the mountains,\nand with no money or food. Don't you think it was very brave of him?\nPerhaps you think it was foolish? Well, people have often been thought\nfools for doing God's will faithfully, but in the end God proves that\nreally they were quite right. Anyway, something very soon happened to\nSt. Benedict to show that God was with him.\n\nAs he tramped on, along the mountain-sides, between the flower-covered\nbanks and thickets full of birds' songs, he prayed to God to guide him\nin the right way. And so when, after some hours of solitary tramping, he\nsaw a man coming towards him out of a lonely mountain pass, he felt sure\nthis was someone sent by God to help him.\n\nThe man's clothes showed that he was a monk. As he drew near he looked\ncuriously at St. Benedict, wondering who this noble-looking boy could be\nwalking all alone among the wild mountains. He, himself, had come out\nthere to meditate and be alone with God and his thoughts. Stopping St.\nBenedict, he asked him kindly who he was and where he was going. St.\nBenedict quite simply told him the truth: that he had come out to seek\nGod's will, and didn't know where he was going, except that he was\nseeking some place where he could live hidden from the whole world.\n\nAt first the monk Romanus tried to argue with him and show him that it\nwas foolish to come out like that alone. But St. Benedict spoke so\nwonderfully about God's call that Romanus saw he was right, and made up\nhis mind to help him find somewhere where he could live alone for a\nwhile. So he led him up a steep winding path, and showed him a cave\nopening into the rugged mountain-side. The cave was about seven feet\ndeep and four feet broad, and there was just room on the rocky ledge\noutside to make a little garden. St. Benedict stepped into the cave with\nhis heart full of joy, feeling sure that at last he had found the place\nhe was seeking. Before going away, Romanus gave him a long garment made\nof sheep-skin, which was what the monks of those days used to wear. He\nalso promised to supply him with food. His monastery was far up, on the\ntop of the great rock in which the cave was. He said that every day he\nwould let down a basket with bread in it for St. Benedict, and he\npromised faithfully to keep his secret. Then he went away.\n\nWhat happened in the time that followed no one knows--it is a secret\nbetween God and St. Benedict. But we can guess that God made known many\nwonderful things to His faithful young servant--things that later he was\nto teach to thousands of men; and that He filled him with grace and\nstrength to do what he would have to do, to make the world a better\nplace. Also, we can be sure that he was very, very happy, in spite of\nthe loneliness, and the dark, cold nights, and the hard ground he had\nfor his bed.\n\nThree years St. Benedict lived like this, and then one sunny Easter\nmorning God made known St. Benedict's secret to a certain holy man who\nlived in those parts, and told him to go to the cave and take St.\nBenedict some of his Easter fare. St. Benedict was very pleased to see\nhim, but surprised to hear it was Easter, for he had lost all count of\ntime. So the priest laid out the good things he had brought, and they\nsaid grace, and then they had a meal together, and then a talk. After\nthe priest had gone some shepherds and country-folk climbed up the steep\nlittle path to see where he had been, and they found St. Benedict. He\nwelcomed them, and spoke so wonderfully to them that they saw he was a\nman specially taught by God. They felt he was their true friend and\nloved them for God's sake, and so they often climbed the steep path to\nvisit him and ask his help and advice. But very soon news of him spread\nbeyond the mountain shepherds, and people of all sorts from far and near\nflocked to see the holy man and ask his prayers and his advice. Sad,\nwicked people went away with sorrow for their sins, and became good.\nCowards went away full of strength and courage. And many people began to\nlearn a new way of serving God truly, always _doing their best_ for love\nof Him, and never \"giving in to themselves.\"\n\nIt was then that God allowed St. Benedict to have a terrible temptation,\nto test him. Suddenly he felt within him a great desire to give up all\nhe was doing for God and return to the wicked city he had left and live\na life of ease and pleasure. It was the Devil who put this thought into\nhis mind, but God's grace in St. Benedict was stronger than the Devil.\nWith all his heart he vowed that he would _never_ give up doing God's\nwill, and, to punish himself for the thoughts that had entered his mind,\nhe threw himself into a mass of sharp, thorny briars and\nstinging-nettles, so that his flesh was all torn and stung. After that\nhe was so strong that no temptation was ever able to conquer him, and he\nwas able to lead thousands of souls to victory.\n\nThe time had come when God wanted St. Benedict to leave his cave. He had\nlearnt what God had to tell him in secret, and now his great work was to\nbegin.\n\nA large number of men who wished to serve God with all their hearts\nbegan to collect round St. Benedict. Gradually they formed twelve\nmonasteries, all within about two miles, and got St. Benedict to rule\nover them all. This was the beginning of St. Benedict's great work for\nGod. He drew up a Rule which showed men how they could live in the way\nmost pleasing to God. It was not so terribly hard as to be impossible\nfor ordinary men, like some of the holy hermits and Saints in the past\nhad taught. And so thousands and thousands of men began to promise to\nkeep this Rule and to live together in monasteries, doing good. St.\nBenedict had many wonderful adventures during the rest of his life, but\nI must keep those stories to tell you another time. The end of this one\nis that after God had called St. Benedict to Heaven, his great work went\non. His followers began to travel all over the world as missionaries,\nteaching the pagans about Christ, and bringing peace and goodness to the\npoor, sad, wicked world. They cultivated the land and made it fruitful;\nand built churches and hospitals and schools; and taught the children,\nand looked after the poor, and _civilized_ the world. It was they who\nbrought the Christian Faith to England, for St. Augustine was one of St.\nBenedict's monks, and did more than anybody else to make England the\ngreat country which she became; for before St. Benedict's monks came the\ncountry was all wild and the Saxons were heathen. So, you see, by\nlistening for God's voice, and doing his best to obey faithfully, the\nboy Benedict became one of the men who have done very great things for\nthe world.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Tell us some more,\" said the Cubs sleepily.\n\n\"Tell us all the adventures St. Benedict had.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said Akela; \"that was a long story. Now you must go to sleep\nand dream about St. Benedict, and then you will be ready to get up and\nhave a glorious day to-morrow.\"\n\nSo the Stable boys stumbled sleepily back to their own quarters, and\nAkela tucked each of them up in his blankets.\n\nA quarter of an hour later everyone was asleep. As Akela crept softly\nround she could only hear the regular breathing of sound sleepers. True,\nat midnight Patsy made some loud conversation, and thought he could do\nwithout any blankets at all, but he did not wake up even then, and was\nsoon tucked up quietly again.\n\nSo ended the First Day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND DAY\n\n\nThe sun has already been up some time when the first Cub wakes up and\nwonders where he is. Finding he is in camp, he feels sure it would be a\ngood turn if he thumped the sleeping form next him and woke him up, that\nhe, too, may have the delight of remembering that \"to-morrow\" has\nactually come--the first real day in camp! These two make conversation\nto each other, and become so cheery that soon everybody else has woke\nup. It is 6.30, so Akela gives leave for everyone to turn out.\n\nThere is a tap in the Stable-yard. Soon everyone is washing in a tin\nbasin. The two cooks have dressed quickly, said their prayers in the\nlittle chapel, and are off up the hill to the camp field.\n\nAt the Stable it is some time before everyone is thoroughly washed and\ndressed, beds are tidied, and everything spick and span. Then the crowd\nof happy Cubs race off to the field.\n\nThe fire is burning merrily, and a big dixie of porridge bubbling for\nall it is worth. Away, between the trees, you can see the blue sea\nglinting and sparkling. Overhead the sea-gulls circle on silver wings,\nand cry good-morning to each other as they pass with swoops and dips,\nlike so many tiny aeroplanes. The dew is thick on the grass, the\nblackbirds sing, the sun shines, and the camp-fire sends a steady column\nof blue smoke into the fresh morning air. How different to early morning\nin London! With a howl of joy the Cubs scatter over the field.\n\nHere comes Godmother in a big blue overall and a sun hat; and Father and\nMother appear at the same moment from the farther corner of the field.\nThey take over the cooking, and the two cooks run off for a bit of sport\nafter their labours.\n\nThen everyone collects in the council circle for prayers. A short run\nwild again, and then a series of whistle-blasts calls the Pack in for\nbreakfast. In come rushing the ravenous Cubs, and each squats down where\nthe cooks have placed their mugs in a circle. Caps off, and all stand\nquiet for a moment, for grace, and then porridge and mountains of\nbread-and-butter begin to disappear at a great rate.\n\nBreakfast finished, the pots and the pans washed up, the Pack invades\nthe post office, and, armed with picture postcards and pencils, the Cubs\nsquat along the sea-wall and write to their mothers. That duty done, and\nspades, pails, boats, and shrimping-nets bought, they lose no more time\nin getting down on to the shore.\n\nIt is a happy and hungry crowd with wet and rumpled hair that turns up\nagain at camp, all ready for the splendid dinner Mother and Father have\ncooked.\n\nAfter dinner a rest, while Godmother reads aloud.\n\nThe day ends up with a wonderful shrimping-party. Besides shrimps, the\nCubs catch every kind of funny little sea-creature--star-fishes,\njelly-fishes, baby sea-anemones, tiny, tiny crabs, a devil-fish, baby\ndabs, and everything else you can think of. The tide is right out, and\nthere are mysterious green pools under the pier, full of feathery red\nsea-weed and little darting fishes. Of course, Sam falls into one in his\nclothes, and comes out looking like a drowned rat. Akela wrings him out\nand sends him home to get into dry clothes, for the sun is beginning to\nsink.\n\nSupper, night prayers, a race down the hill, a few minutes, to see the\nlittle twinkling lights, and the happy family is getting undressed in\ndouble quick time, for Akela has promised a good story to-night--a\n\"nexiting\" one about a robber chief.\n\nSoon everyone in the coach-house is settled on his palliasse, and has\ninvited a Stable Cub to share it with him. The candle has been lighted\nand stuck with a dab of grease on the ledge.\n\n\"Fire ahead, miss,\" commands a Sixer. Silence reigns.\n\n\"The story I told you yesterday,\" said Akela, \"was about a boy who\nstarted good, and went on being good all his life. To-night I am going\nto tell you about a boy who started good, but became bad, and was very\nwicked until he grew up, when something happened which sent him on the\ngreat adventure of serving God.\"\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. GUTHLAC.\n\nMany hundreds of years ago, in the days when England was ruled over by\nthe Saxon Kings, there lived a boy called Guthlac. He was a very\nintelligent boy, not dull, like some children; he was obedient to the\ngrown-ups, and, as the old book says, \"blithe in countenance, pure and\nclean and innocent in his ways; and in him was the lustre of Divine\nbrightness so shining that all men who saw him could perceive the\npromise of what should hereafter happen to him.\"\n\nBut when he got to be about fifteen he forgot all the things he had been\ntaught as a child. When he felt a kind of restless longing for adventure\nrising up inside him, and a desire to do wild things, and a cruel\nfeeling that he did not care what happened to other people so long as he\nhad a good time, he _gave in to himself_ and began the most wild and\nreckless life you can imagine. He armed himself with a great ash-bow and\na sharp spear from his father's armoury. He slung a shield on his back,\nand stuck his belt full of knives and daggers and arrows. Then he went\nabout and collected a gang of all the wildest boys he could find, and\nput himself at their head. Then, going through all the country round,\nthese wild boys attacked anybody they thought was an enemy of theirs,\npaid off old grudges, killed and wounded innocent people, set fire to\ntheir houses, and did all the damage they could. Mad with excitement and\nlust for blood, they soon became just a robber band, attacking friend\nand foe alike, killing just for the pleasure of killing, or sacking\nfarms and houses to satisfy their greed. They knew all the woods and\nby-ways so well that no one could catch them. After a time they began to\nbuild themselves huts where they could sleep, and also hide the treasure\nthey had plundered from rich men. You can't imagine any wicked or\nhorrible thing they did not do. And, of course, they forgot God\nentirely, though once they had been Christian children and had been\nbrought up to know and love God. Nine years passed like this, and then\nsomething happened.\n\nOne night as Guthlac, the chief, lay on his bed of rushes and soft, warm\nskins in the darkness of the wooden cabin, thinking over the excitements\nof the day and planning all the wicked things he would do the next day,\na wonderful thought flashed into his mind, and it seemed to swallow up\nall the other thoughts. He lay still, gazing into the darkness and\ntrying to understand what it was. Then, gradually, he found that it was\n_God_ he was thinking about--God, Whom he had forgotten for nine long\nyears.\n\nHe did not turn away his mind, but went on thinking about God until his\nheart was full of a kind of glow that was _love_. He was surprised, for\nhe knew he did not really love God; for he was spending all his days\nfighting against Him by every wicked thing he could imagine. And then he\nbegan to understand that this feeling inside him was sent by God--it was\nGod's love for him, and not his love for God. Could it really be that\nGod loved him? He was so very wicked and cruel, and God--God was so good\nand just and merciful.\n\nThe robbers, sleeping on their rush beds, breathed heavily; they were\ntired after a hard day. Guthlac listened to their breathing. They were\nhis men; they obeyed him as their chief. He remembered the day, nine\nyears ago, when he had thought of the bold robbers and sea-kings and\nbrave men of the past, and longed to show that he was as daring as they,\nand could lead men to war. But as he lay, very wide awake, with the\nstrange feeling of God near, he began to think of other great men he had\nheard of in his childhood--men just as brave and daring as the\nsea-kings, just as good leaders of men, more famous and wonderful,\nand--lovers of God.\n\nGod loved them, and they loved God and gave all their strength and\ncourage to serve Him. They were His special friends. And now it seemed\nto Guthlac that God was filling his heart with love and asking him to be\nHis special friend. A great feeling of shame came over him. How could\nGod forgive him and want him for a friend after all the terrible things\nhe had done? But suddenly a great longing filled him to be one of God's\nspecial friends, and obey Him, and go on always loving Him. He longed\nfor Christ to become his Chief and Leader; and then he began to\nunderstand that this would mean he must tell God from the bottom of his\nheart that he was sorry for all the wicked things he had ever done, and\nmust promise on his honour that he would never again do a single one of\nthem.\n\nGuthlac sat up in bed and thought hard. This would mean that he must\ngive up being a robber, give up his free life in the woods, give up\nleading his daring followers, give up all the unlawful pleasures of\nwhich his life was made up. It would be a terribly big giving up . . .\nbut then, what a big, big thing he would get in exchange! He would get\nthe friendship of God, and the knowledge that he had become very\npleasing to Him. Stretching wide his arms in the darkness, he told God\nthat he gave up _all_, _all_, _all_ that was wicked, and he begged to\nbe forgiven and made clean once more, like an innocent little child.\nThen, very happy, he lay back on his bed of skins and fell asleep.\n\nThe sun was streaming into the long, low room when Guthlac awoke. It was\na glorious English spring morning. The sleeping robbers were stirring,\none by one, beneath their warm deer-skins. They little thought that\ntheir chief, sitting up in bed with the morning sun in his eyes, was\nthinking about God, and how wonderful it was that He had come to him in\nthe night and called him to become one of His friends. It was rather\ndifficult to believe, in the light of day, with the coarse laughter and\nwild voices of the robbers ringing out on the morning air, and yet\nGuthlac knew it was true, and _knew that he had made a great promise_.\nHe was too brave a man to go back on a promise, however hard to keep, so\nhe stood up with a strong purpose in his heart.\n\nThe first step would be to tell his men. That would be terribly hard. He\nsuddenly felt very lonely, and wished there was someone else there to\nback him up. Then he remembered that the Lord Christ was his Chief.\nSurely He would be near and help him in his first adventure?\n\nSo he stepped out into the dewy woods, where all the birds were singing\nas if they, too, loved God with all their hearts. And he called his men\nabout him to hear the important thing he had to say. They all came\ncrowding round, expecting to hear some splendid new adventure that\nGuthlac, their chief, had planned for them.\n\nThen he stood up, taller than any of them and more splendid, and in his\nclear, ringing voice he told them that a wonderful thing had\nhappened--God had called him to join the band of His brave friends. When\nGod calls there's no hanging back. And so he had given up for ever the\nrobber's life. He was no longer their chief. He had found a new Chief\nfor himself, and was off, at once, on the adventure of God's service.\nAnd so he bade them--good-bye.\n\nThe robbers looked at each other in horror and surprise. What had\nhappened to their chief? Was he mad? What would happen to them without\ntheir brave leader? Falling down on their knees about him, they begged\nhim to stay; but Guthlac's eyes were already looking away at the new\nadventure he saw before him. The pleasures of his old life did not seem\nworth anything now; he scarcely heard the voices of his friends as they\npleaded with him.\n\nAt last they gave up all hope of persuading him, and Guthlac walked away\nthrough the woods, leaving his old life behind him for ever.\n\nHe did not know where to go at first, but he felt sure Christ, his new\nChief, would help him; and, sure enough, he presently remembered that\nnot very far away there was an abbey of St. Benedict's monks. He knew\nthose men were all Christ's friends, and he was quite sure they would\nwelcome him.\n\nSo he walked through the woods until he came to the abbey. There he\nknocked loudly on the great door, and presently a brother opened it. He\nmust have been terrified when he saw the tall young chieftain standing\nbefore him, for all the countryside feared Guthlac. But very soon the\nbrother saw the love of God shining in Guthlac's eyes, and the gentle\nhumility in his voice showed that he was no longer the cruel robber, but\na servant of Christ.\n\nThe monks took Guthlac in and made him welcome. Soon he found that\nconquering himself and the Devil was a harder fight than he had ever\nfought against his enemies in the world, but he threw himself into the\nbattle with all his heart. He did not do things by halves, but began to\nserve God with all his might, because before he had fought so hard\nagainst Him. Remembering how often he had got drunk with the wine he\nhad stolen, he now would not drink one single drop even of the wine the\nmonks were allowed to have. At first the brothers did not like this, but\nsoon they began to understand the strong resolve of the young robber,\nand, seeing how very pure his heart was and how much he loved God, they\nall loved him. The curious old book which tells all about him says: \"He\nwas in figure tall, and pure in body, cheerful in mood, and in\ncountenance handsome; he was modest in his discourse, and he was patient\nand humble, and ever in his heart was Divine love hot and burning.\"\n\nFor two years he lived in that monastery, and then he began to long to\nlive a harder life for Christ's sake. He heard about the hermits of old\ndays who used to live apart from other men in wild places, and he got\nleave from the Abbot to follow their example. So one day he set out.\n\nHe did not choose the beautiful green woods that he had once roamed in,\nbut turned towards a most horrible place--a great marsh full of pools of\nslimy black water, and reeds, and rough scrub and bushes. It was the\nmost lonely place you can imagine, and people feared to go there because\nthey said it was haunted by evil spirits.\n\nOn an island in this lonely fen St. Guthlac settled down with two\nservants. It was a very hard life, and the Devil sent him all sorts of\nhorrible temptations and haunted him and gave him no rest; but St.\nGuthlac rejoiced in the chance of fighting under his Captain, Christ,\nagainst the evil spirits.\n\nIt would take too long now to tell you of all the wonderful things that\nhappened to St. Guthlac on this island--we must keep them for another\ntime. For God rewarded his love and his courage by giving him a\nwonderful gift of miracles and of great wisdom, so that the news of him\ngradually spread all over the country, and people began to understand\nthat the great robber had now become a great Saint. And so from far and\nnear, the people flocked to him. But one thing more about him I will\ntell you.\n\nThough he had now no human companions, and chose to set all his love on\nGod, he had a wonderful friendship with the wild animals that shared the\nisland with him. In those days there were many wild beasts in England,\nsuch as wolves. These would come to St. Guthlac and eat out of his hand.\nEven the fishes would come to him; and as to the birds, they did not\nfear him at all. The swallows, which are very timid birds, would come\nand settle all about on him, and there were some ravens which were a\ntrouble because they were so tame and would come and steal things from\nhis house. Once a holy man called Wilfrith, who had come to see St.\nGuthlac, was surprised to see the swallows settle on him, and (as the\nold book says) asked him \"wherefore the wild birds of the waste sat so\nsubmissively upon him.\" St. Guthlac explained to him in these words:\n\"Hast thou never learnt, Brother Wilfrith, in Holy Writ, that he who\nhath led his life after God's will, the wild beasts and wild birds have\nbecome the more intimate with him? And the man who would pass his life\napart from worldly men, to him the angels approach nearer.\"\n\nSo it was that the wild place called Croyland became a place of God, and\nSt. Guthlac, through God's power, was able to do more good to his\nfellow-men than ever he had done them harm in his wild days. But though\nSt. Guthlac was doing miracles as wonderful as those of the Old\nTestament prophets, and preaching in his wilderness as wonderfully as\nSt. John the Baptist did in his, God did not mean to leave him there\nvery long, for He wished to have His brave and true friend in heaven.\nAfter fifteen years St. Guthlac, who was still almost a young man, fell\nill. Knowing that God was calling him to Heaven, he gladly began to\nprepare. His illness lasted only seven days, and he himself knew that he\nwould die on the eighth. But he had nothing to fear, for he had so\ntruly repented of his sins that night when God spoke to him first that\nthey had been all washed away. So he lay in his little house waiting.\nAnd when one of his faithful servants, who was some way off, at his\nprayers, chanced to look up, he saw the house with a kind of bright\ncloud of glory round it. And this brightness stayed there till day\nbroke. And at dawn St. Guthlac called his servant and gave him last\nmessages for his friends. \"And after that,\" says the old book, \"he\nraised his eyes to heaven and stretched out his arms, and then sent\nforth his spirit with joy and bliss to the eternal happiness of the\nheavenly kingdom.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"That was a good one,\" said the Cubs. But they were too sleepy to ask\nfor another story, as usual, and in less than five minutes every one was\nasleep, sailing away through the dream-sea towards the golden, sunlit\ncountry called \"To-morrow.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRD DAY\n\n\nSeven o'clock and no one awake yet! Akela crept softly out and roused\nthe cooks. Sam woke quickly, but Bill was just like a hermit crab--the\nmore you poked him, the more he drew back into his shell and hid his\nhead under his blanket. Presently, however, he began to uncurl, opened\nhis eyes very wide, sat up, and discovered it was not his mother calling\nhim, but that he was at camp. He got up quickly, and was the first\nready.\n\nGradually they all woke up, but no one was in such a hurry to turn out\nthis morning.\n\nThey put on uniform and boots and stockings, for it was not to be a\nshore day.\n\nBreakfast over, haversacks were packed with grub, and the whole party\ntramped off along the sea-wall to Ryde. The first thing that happened\nwas a beautiful service in a very beautiful little church, for on this\nday (August 15th) the Pack always goes to church. Then five of the\nyounger ones who didn't fancy a long tramp went home with Father and\nMother, and the rest set off on an adventure.\n\nAlong the roads and lanes they went, but the way did not seem long, for\nthey talked of so many interesting things. After about two miles, as\nthey were going along a narrow lane, they suddenly came on a man sitting\non the bank, who stood up and said, \"Hullo!\" The Cubs gave a yell and\nfell upon him, for, you see, he was their Scoutmaster.\n\nHe led the way past an old ruin, under a ruined archway, and along a\nlittle path, till they got to a great building called Quarr Abbey, where\nhe was staying. There, under the shade of the trees, the weary\ntravellers sat and had an enormous lunch. Three big jugs of cider had\nbeen provided for them. It was the first time they had ever tasted\ncider, and Akela began to be afraid they would never be able to walk\nhome straight if they drank any more; so it was decided to pour the\nremainder into the water-bottles, and take it back for the five boys in\ncamp.\n\nAfter dinner the Scoutmaster took the Cubs for a row in the creek, and\nafterwards they bathed. Then they had a good tea, and were allowed to\nsee over the abbey and go down in the crypt under the church. It\ninterested them very much to see a wonderful library of eighty thousand\nbooks! Some were hundreds and hundreds of years old, and all done in\nwriting and painting, because there was no printing in those days. Some\nwere books done in the very first days of printing. There was one\nenormous book you could hardly carry, and by it a tiny wee little book\nyou could put in your waistcoat-pocket.\n\nAt last it was time to go home, and they set out once more to tramp\nalong the lanes. The evening sun shone down through the thick green\nleaves, and the blackbirds sang as if they were saying all sorts of\nimportant things to each other, if only you could understand. The grey,\nbroken arches of the ruined abbey seemed to tell sad tales of long\nago--seemed full of secrets nobody will ever hear.\n\n\"It's been a good adventure,\" said the Cubs, and they tramped home\ncontentedly, for their minds were full of things to think about.\n\nEven at the end of a four-mile tramp they were ready to run up the\ngrassy hill into the camp, each keen to be the first one to tell Father\nand Mother about the eighty thousand books, and the ruin, and the cider,\nand the crypt. The five Cubs enjoyed the cider, and everyone talked at\nthe same time round the camp-fire that night, all telling different\nthings.\n\n\"Story to-night, miss?\" said a Cub, suddenly.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Akela.\n\n\"Good one?\"\n\n\"Yes--a very good one about a soldier-Saint.\"\n\n\"Hooray! Buck up, boys, and let's get down to the Stable for the story,\"\ncried the Cub, cramming the last bit of bread-and-cheese into his mouth.\n\nThe trampers were quite ready to lie down on their beds that night.\n\n\"It's been the best day we've had yet,\" they said; \"and now, please,\ntell the story.\"\n\nSo Akela curled up on someone's palliasse, and silence fell.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. MARTIN.\n\nA little more than three hundred years after Our Lord formed the\nChristian Church and then went back to Heaven, having promised always to\nbe in spirit with His people, a boy called Martin was born in Hungary.\nThis boy God chose to be a very great leader among His people, the\nChristians, and so He began to arrange Martin's life in such a way that\nhe should be led, little by little, to the fulfilment of God's plans.\nNow, part of God's plan was that Martin should be given the chance of\n_conquering himself_, and, with the addition of a lot of God's grace, be\nmade strong and able to bear bravely the terrible dangers and hardships\nthat were bound to go with a high position in the Church of Christ in\nthose days of persecution. This story I am going to tell you is the\nstory of all the hard things and disappointments and adventures God sent\nto the boy Martin, in order to prepare him well, and bring him, at last,\nto the position he was to fill in the Church.\n\nWell, the first thing that happened was that the Holy Spirit put into\nthe little boy's heart the idea of praying to a wonderful, unknown\nbeing, Whom he called \"the God of the Christians.\" You see, his father\nwas a pagan, and Martin had never been taught anything about God, and\nmust have picked up this idea all on his own. He had no church to go to,\nor anything, so he set to and built himself a little chapel on the top\nof a hill near his home, and there he often ran off and prayed to the\nGod he knew so little about, but Who, he felt sure, was a kind and\nloving friend of little boys.\n\nWell, God was pleased to see that Martin had answered so well to the\nidea He had sent into his heart, so He rewarded him by making something\nhappen, which was the next bit of His plan, so to speak.\n\nMartin's father was a soldier, and had risen from the ranks to the\nposition of Colonel in the Roman Army. To repay him for his good\nservices he was given a farm in Italy. And so, when Martin was ten years\nold, his father and mother moved to this farm, and Martin found himself\nliving in a country where the Christian Faith was openly practised and\npeople loved and served \"the God of the Christians,\" Whom Martin had so\nmuch longed to know more about.\n\nYou can imagine how pleased the boy was; and before long he had\ndiscovered the house of the priests who taught young pagans all about\nthe Christian faith, and had begun to go to them regularly to learn. His\nfather did not take much notice of this, and thought his small son would\nsoon forget all about it when he got old enough to enter the life his\nfather had decided he should follow--the exciting life of a soldier.\n\nBut Martin was not dreaming of battles and the adventures of a soldier's\nlife, for he had discovered that among Christians there was such a thing\nas specially giving yourself to God, and bravely breaking away from all\nthe things you love by nature--like riches and fine clothes, and nice\nfood, and friends, and adventures in the world, so as to love Christ\nonly, and follow the adventures of the spirit to which He will lead His\nloyal soldiers. While still a boy Martin decided that this was the life\nfor him, and he began to long to leave his comfortable home and go and\njoin the hermits who lived in caves. So you can imagine that when his\nfather began to talk about his starting his military training he was\nvery much dismayed. Being a frank and honest kind of boy, he looked his\nfather bravely in the face, and told him straight out that he wanted to\nbe a Christian and give up his whole life to it.\n\nMartin's father was very angry indeed. He stormed at the boy, and when\nhe found that was no good, he thrashed him. But nothing could make\nMartin change his mind, and at last he decided the only way was to run\naway from home.\n\nBut I told you God meant Martin to become a leader. To have run away and\nlived with the hermits would not have given him just the kind of\ntraining he needed, and the chance of showing he could stick to God\nthrough real difficulties. So God let the next bit of His plan happen.\n\nMartin's father told the Roman officials that his son had come to the\nage at which all boys had to undergo their military training (though he\nhadn't, really). And as Martin would not go and \"join up,\" a kind of\npress-gang lay in ambush one day and captured him, and he was led away\nin chains and forced to take the oath of military allegiance.\n\nHis father being a Colonel, Martin was given a good position in the army\nstraight off, and had his own horse and his own servant. Of course,\nnearly all his companions were pagans, and the life of the army was of a\npretty low standard. But Martin stuck faithfully to the kind of life he\nknew was pleasing to God, and tried in his dealings with his fellow-men\nto do things in the brave, kind, generous, unselfish way Christ would\nhave done them. Of course, this made all the soldiers and his\nfellow-officers love him, and they must often have wondered why he never\ngot angry, or cheated, or grumbled and swore at unpleasant things; and\nwhy he was so very kind to his servant, and always ready to give up his\nplace or any little privilege to other people. Though no one knew it,\neven his pay he gave away to the poor. And yet he was not yet a baptized\nChristian, for in those days people used to wait a long time and prepare\nthemselves very carefully for the great honour of being made one of the\nchildren of God; and during this time of waiting they were called\ncatechumens.\n\nIt was at this time, while Martin's regiment was stationed in France,\nthat a very wonderful thing happened to him--for God was still planning\nhis life and giving him chances; and, if he took them, rewarding him\nwith special graces which should turn him gradually into a brave\n\"soldier of Jesus Christ.\"\n\nOne cold wintry day, as the wind whistled down the narrow streets of\nAmiens, Martin's troop came clattering through the old gateway, the\nsoldiers wrapping their great military cloaks close round them, for the\nbitter French winter seemed to freeze their Southern blood. By the gate\nof the city they noticed, as they swung by, an old, ragged man. The wind\nfluttered his tattered rags about, and he stretched out his thin hands,\nall blue with cold, hoping for a few pence to buy himself some food. The\nsoldiers, however, passed him by and gave him nothing. But when Martin\nreached the corner and saw the piteous sight his heart was touched, and\nhe reined in his horse. He felt in his pockets, but, alas! they were\nempty, for he had given away all he had to some other poor person. He\nwas very sad, because he always felt the poor were a kind of _chance_\ngiven him by God of showing his love for the Lord Christ, Who had said\nthat if you served the poor and naked and hungry and unhappy you really\nserved _Him_. Well, Martin felt he simply _couldn't_ pass on and give\nthe old man nothing. And suddenly the idea came to him that he was warm\nin his big cloak, and the old man very cold. What if he gave his cloak?\nBut it was his uniform, and he knew that he must not ride out without it\naltogether, so he took it off, drew his sword, slashed it in half, and\nthen, bending down with a smile, put the warm folds about the old man's\ncowering shoulders.\n\nOf course, the soldiers and other officers laughed; but Martin didn't\ncare--he was willing to be what St. Paul calls \"a fool for Christ's\nsake.\"\n\nAnd now comes the wonderful thing. That night as Martin lay in bed,\nasleep, a wonderful vision came to him. Suddenly his room seemed full of\nangels, and in the midst of them was Christ. _And_--on His shoulders was\nMartin's half-cloak! Then Our Lord spoke. \"Martin,\" He said, \"dost thou\nknow this mantle?\" And then He turned to the angels, and He said:\n\"Martin, yet a catechumen, hath clothed Me with this garment.\"\n\nYou can imagine what St. Martin felt! But besides the joy in him, there\nwas a feeling that Our Lord was a little disappointed because he was\nonly a catechumen still, and not yet baptized and made a real part of\nHis Church, a real child of God. And so, feeling that God wished him to\nhave the great honour of Baptism, he went to the priests, and started on\nthe long, hard preparation that they used to have in those days. No meat\nmight he have, nor wine, and he must pray a lot, and often watch in the\nchurch the whole night, and in many other ways practise not giving in to\nhimself. Only at Easter and Whitsun were the catechumens baptized; and\nthen they were clothed in white garments, which they wore for a week.\nThese were meant to show the perfect purity of their souls, from which\nall stain of sin had been washed away by the waters of Baptism.\n\nAt last the great day came, and Martin received the wonderful Sacrament\nwith great love and humility. But now he felt that he simply couldn't\nlet his hands be stained with the blood of his fellow-men, and that the\nsoldier's life was not for him. And so, when the Emperor came one day\nand inspected his regiment, which was shortly to go into battle, he\nasked him if he might leave the army. \"Until now I have fought for you,\"\nhe said; \"let me henceforth fight for God. . . . I am a soldier of\nChrist, and it is not lawful for me to take part in a bloody battle.\"\nThe Emperor was very angry. \"Coward!\" he cried. \"It is not religion that\ncauses you to refuse to fight--you are _afraid_.\"\n\nSo, to show them he was not afraid, Martin offered to go into battle in\nthe very front rank, but to go unarmed (since he would not shed human\nblood). And, to show that he trusted in Christ as his protector, he said\nhe would go without armour or helmet.\n\nHis challenge was accepted, and he was put under arrest, lest he might\ntry to escape.\n\nOf course, he spent the night praying, and the next day everyone was\nastonished by some strange news. The enemy had sent a despatch to sue\nfor peace, and to say they would agree to the Emperor's terms. So there\nwas no battle; and not only was Martin's life saved, but the lives of\nmany other brave men. Probably the Emperor saw God's hand in the\nunexpected action of his powerful enemy, for he at once gave Martin\nleave to go free.\n\nAt last Martin found himself at liberty to follow the life he had always\nfelt called to; and once again God sent him where things should happen\nto him which would finally lead to the accomplishment of God's great\nplan.\n\nAfter making a pilgrimage to Rome, which was now not only the head of\nthe worldwide Empire, but the kind of headquarters of the Christians, he\nreturned to France, so as to put himself under the guidance of a very\nholy man, called St. Hilary, the Bishop of Poitiers.\n\nSt. Hilary soon saw that Martin was no ordinary young soldier, but was a\nvery promising \"soldier of Jesus Christ,\" and that his services would\nbe very valuable. He saw, also, that he had received a special call from\nGod, so he proposed to ordain him deacon. But Martin was very humble,\nand he refused the honour. In the end he let St. Hilary ordain him\nexorcist. But directly after this he was ordered by God in a dream to go\nback to his native land and visit his relations and bring them into the\nChristian Faith. St. Hilary was disappointed, but he let him go, making\nhim promise, however, that he would return to the Diocese of Poitiers,\nto which he now belonged.\n\nAfter many adventures, including falling into the hands of robbers and\nescaping in a marvellous way, which must have been through God's help,\nMartin reached his old home, and had the joy of seeing his mother\nreceived into the Church, as well as seven of his cousins and his two\ngreat-uncles.\n\nAt this time the Church was being persecuted by a very strong party\ncalled the Arians. They were heretics, who taught that Our Lord was only\na man and not God, and as the Church turned them out on account of their\nfalse teaching, they did nothing but fight against her. Of course,\nMartin, the brave soldier of Christ, stood up for what he believed, so\nthat one day he was seized by the Arians, beaten, and banished from his\nown country. He began to make his way back to St. Hilary, but when he\nreached Milan he learned that his friend had been banished from\nPoitiers, and that an Arian Bishop ruled in his place. So Martin stayed\nat Milan; and this, too, was a part of God's plan, because it was his\nstay here which started him on an idea which in the end developed into\none of the most important things in his life.\n\nThis idea was to form a kind of little monastery outside the city, where\nhe and a handful of other young men lived, and tried to do good and to\nlive in a way specially pleasing to God, and more perfect than they\ncould do in the busy rush of the ordinary world. But after a while the\nArians got strong in Milan, and drove out Martin and his followers. For\na while Martin and a friend of his lived as hermits on a wild little\nisland off the coast of Spain. But, hearing that St. Hilary had been\nrestored to his see, Martin went to Poitiers so as to fulfil his solemn\npromise. But once more St. Hilary was to be disappointed, for this time\nMartin begged to be allowed to continue his hermit's life. St. Hilary\ngave him leave, and Martin now withdrew to a forest about eight miles\nfrom Poitiers. Here he built himself a hut, and was soon surrounded by\nmen who wished to lead the same kind of holy life. This was the\nbeginning of all the wonderful monasteries of France, which civilized\nthe whole country in time and taught it to be Christian.\n\nThat Martin's new life was really pleasing to God was soon shown, for\nGod gave him the gift of doing miracles, and twice he even raised the\ndead to life. You will remember how Our Lord specially promised that His\nfaithful followers, in the years to come, should do miracles like He had\ndone, and even greater ones. Well, St. Martin was one of the men who\nshowed that Our Lord's promise was fulfilled. All the men to whom the\nChurch has given the title \"Saint\" have done wonderful miracles, that\nGod's name might be glorified and people see that \"with God all things\nare possible.\" St. Martin now lived in very close communion with God,\nand his miracles showed that he was not just an _ordinary_ good man.\n\nBesides training his monks, St. Martin was working very hard among the\nheathen Gauls. He would press forward through the forests and preach in\nthe little villages, and do miracles, and, after instructing the people\nin the true Faith, baptize them all, and leave a happy Christian village\nwhere he had found a miserable, frightened, heathen one.\n\nSt. Martin's tender pity for all suffering things is shown by this\nlittle story. One day, as he walked in the country, he saw a poor,\nterrified hare dashing along with starting eyes, and nearly exhausted,\nfor a party of huntsmen and their hounds were close upon it. St. Martin\nsaw that in a few minutes it must be torn to bits by the hounds, for\nthere was no cover for it. His tender heart longed to help it to escape,\nbecause it was weak and small and frightened. So he called out to the\nhounds to stop! And, strange to say, they pulled up short in their mad\nrush, and all stood still as if frozen to the ground, and the poor\nlittle hare scurried away into safety.\n\nNow, this kind of life was just what suited St. Martin, and he was very\nhappy. He lived apart with God, and yet had work to do in training his\nmonks in the way of perfection and teaching the Faith to the ignorant\npagans. But he had not yet arrived at the end of God's great plan for\nhim. And if God now called him away from the life he loved to a life he\ndid not want at all, we must not be surprised, for Christ said that\nthose who would be His disciples must _deny themselves_ and take up\ntheir _cross_ and follow Him, and that is what all good Christians must\nbe ready to do--that is, live according to _the way God wants_ instead\nof according to the way _they want_ themselves.\n\nWell, the change came when St. Hilary died; for of course the people\nwanted St. Martin to become Bishop in his place. To be Bishop was a very\ngreat honour, and one that many men would have been glad to accept. But\nSt. Martin was humble, like all Saints; and he also felt that if he was\nto remain pure of heart and close to God he must live in the quiet\nsolitude and silence of his monastery, so he refused to become Bishop.\nBut that he should be Bishop was God's will, and also the people were\nquite determined to have him. They got him by making him think there was\na poor sick woman who wanted him to come to her. He came out of his\nmonastery, all unsuspecting, and the people carried him off by force to\nPoitiers, and he had to consent to be consecrated Bishop.\n\nHe did not look very like a Bishop as he was brought into the city. He\nwas clad in a poor, thin old habit, and his head was closely shaved, as\nthe monks were accustomed to do, and he was thin and pale with fasting\nand his hard life. But even his humble appearance made the people cheer\nhim all the more; and the church was absolutely packed at the solemn\nservice of his consecration as Bishop.\n\nNow began a life in which his own will was altogether given up to that\nof God. He lived in a poor little hut adjoining the church--the poorness\nof it pleased him; but all day he was at it, doing things for\npeople--now visiting a sick man to pray over him, now making peace\nbetween quarrelsome people, now blessing oils, that they might bring\nhealing to the sick; preaching sermons, talking to people, and\nexplaining Holy Scripture in the way he could do so wonderfully;\nvisiting his priests, or listening to the worries and troubles they came\nto tell him; and when there was nothing else, there was always a crowd\nof people waiting just to see their beloved Bishop's holy face and go\naway cheered with a patient smile from him.\n\nBut just sometimes he slipped away for a little peace alone with God, at\na beautiful monastery called Marmontier, which he formed near the city,\nand which later became very famous, and kept the Rule of St. Benedict I\ntold you about before.\n\nThere were many things that were serious worries and very bitter sorrows\nand trials to St. Martin at this time, but I can't tell you all about\nthese now. But there were also joys; and one of these I will tell you\nabout, because it was the companionship of a little boy. He was nearly\nten when St. Martin baptized him and then adopted him. As they travelled\ntogether soon after the boy's Baptism, and while he still had on the\nbeautiful white robe I told you about, which showed outwardly the new\npurity of his soul, they came to the River Loire. A little way ahead of\nthem they saw a poor blind beggar waiting for someone to help him\nacross.\n\n\"Son,\" said St. Martin to the boy, Victorius, \"go to that man; wash his\nface and eyes with water from the river; then bring him to me.\"\n\nSo the boy went and did as St. Martin had told him; and as soon as he\nhad washed the poor man's eyes, the man opened them and found he could\nsee! With joy he looked about at the blue sky and the river; and when he\nheard that it was the holy Bishop who had sent the white-robed boy to\nhim, he praised God for what had happened, and ran and fell down at St.\nMartin's feet. The poor beggar was very excited about it all, and didn't\nknow how to thank St. Martin and the boy. So St. Martin said:\n\n\"Calm thyself, cease talking, and come; for with me in this boat thou\nshalt cross the river.\"\n\nSo the beggar stayed with them three days, and Victorius was allowed to\nlook after him, and, as the old book says, \"eagerly brought him\neverything to eat that he liked best.\"\n\nVictorius stayed always with St. Martin, and went about everywhere with\nhim, scarcely ever leaving his side. Even to the church he would go with\nhim for the night offices; or on his tours visiting the churches or\npreaching to the heathen. St. Martin taught Victorius, and in return the\nboy waited on him; also, I think, he must have cheered up the old\nBishop, and often made him feel a boy again. But don't you think\nVictorius was a very lucky boy? He saw a great many wonderful miracles\nof the Saint, and was even allowed to have a hand in the doing of some\nof them, as in the case of the blind beggar. When Victorius was old\nenough, St. Martin made him a priest, and _himself_ cut off the young\nman's hair in the way priests used to have it cut.\n\nThere are a great many more wonderful stories about St. Martin which I\nhaven't time to tell you now; but gradually, gradually he was\nestablishing the Christian Faith very firmly in France. God's great plan\nwas being fully worked out, for, you see, St. Martin had never resisted\nGod's will in any point; always he had done just what he felt God was\ngently leading him to do, never mind what it cost him at the time. And\nso he took each step that God arranged for him, and each one led on to\nthe next, and all led on to the wonderful life of building up the Church\nof Christ, and making it bigger, stronger, purer, more healthy; and the\ngreat work, too, of turning a heathen land into a powerful Christian\ncountry.\n\nAt last came the day when the tired old Bishop felt, with unspeakable\njoy, that he was to go and receive his reward at the hands of Christ,\nWhom he had loved so faithfully and so long, and was to enter into his\nrest.\n\nOne day, after a long journey, St. Martin was thinking of returning to\nhis beloved Marmontier, when a great weakness came over him.\n\n\"The moment of my deliverance is at hand,\" he said.\n\nHis monks and other faithful companions were nearly broken-hearted.\n\n\"Oh, Father, will you then leave us?\" they cried. \"Ravening wolves will\nfall on your flock, and who will protect it when the shepherd is struck?\nWe know your longing to depart and to be with Christ, but your reward is\nassured and will be greater by delay. Have pity on us who must remain.\"\n\nSo St. Martin prayed a beautiful prayer, because he loved his children\nmore than himself, and he was even willing to put off his reward and his\nlonged-for rest for love of them.\n\n\"Lord,\" he said, \"if indeed I still be necessary to Thy people, I refuse\nnot the labour. Let only Thy will be done.\"\n\n[Illustration: S. MARTIN, VICTORIUS AND THE BLIND BEGGAR.\n\n_See page 39._ ]\n\nBut it was not Our Lord's will that His faithful soldier should fight\nany longer. Christ was waiting for him, all ready to say, \"Well done,\ngood and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.\"\n\nAnd so, lying humbly upon a bed of sackcloth, St. Martin, Apostle of\nFrance, finished the work that God had given him to do, and passed into\nthe glory and eternal rest of the Blessed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH DAY\n\n\nA gorgeous day of steady, hot sun that made the sea sparkle like a\nmillion diamonds scattered on a great stretch of blue, blue satin. The\ntide was very far out, leaving a golden stretch of sand that simply\nasked to be tunnelled into and dug into holes and trenches and castles.\nThe Cubs all got into their bathing-costumes (the Cubs' \"costumes\" were\n_mostly_ bare Cub!), and spent the whole morning burrowing like moles\ninto the sand, and getting cool in the sea when they felt like it. Akela\ntried to write something \"very important,\" but the Cubs didn't seem to\nthink it nearly as important as Akela did, and not much writing got\ndone.\n\nAfter dinner and rest, when the tide had come up, like a great green\nmonster swallowing up the shore, and clutching with foamy fingers at the\nrocks, Akela hired a boat and took half the Cubs at a time for a row,\nwhile the other half ran along the shore ready to scramble in, when\ntheir turn came.\n\nThe wind had got up, and out to sea there were no end of \"white horses\"\nshaking their manes and galloping after each other. Do you know what\n\"white horses\" are? They are the white crests of the waves that break\nout all over the sea on windy days. Some of the \"white horses\" came\ngalloping close in to shore, and the Cubs had a very exciting time\nlanding to give the others a turn. This is how they did it. One large\nCub rolled up his shorts as far as they would go, and stood ready in the\nbow. Akela then turned the boat shorewards suddenly, and pulled at the\noars for dear life, and all the Cubs helped by cheering.\n\"Crash--scrunch,\" the boat went ashore; the Cub in the bow leapt out,\nand held her nose steady while everyone else scrambled out. A few\n\"white horses\" jumped over the stern and made things a bit wet, but\nnobody minded. In scrambled the next boatful of Cubs, and, with a good\nshove, the boat was out again.\n\nA very little make-believe and you were lifeboat-men landing survivors\nfrom a wreck.\n\nThere was to be a long and _very exciting_ story to-night, so the Cubs\nbustled down to the Stable extra early, and were undressed before you\ncould say \"Jack Robinson.\" In fact, Terry began to undress in the\nstreet, and was out in the Stable-yard in his night-shirt before Akela\nand the last Cub had got through the gate.\n\n\"Tell us a long, long, long one,\" begged the Cubs; \"we aren't a bit\nsleepy. Let it last till midnight.\"\n\n\"I'll tell as long as the candle lasts,\" said Akela, sticking a stump of\ncandle on the ledge.\n\nThe Cubs curled up, and the candle-light fell in a golden flicker on their\nruddy, sunburnt faces. Fifteen pairs of eyes were fixed on Akela. You\ncouldn't hear a straw rustle. Only the faint \"Swish-sh-sh--_Sha-a-a-ah_\"\nof the \"white horses\" breaking on the shore broke the stillness.\n\n\"Now we are going back, back, back into a thousand years ago,\" began\nAkela, and the Cubs gave a wriggle of satisfaction, and prepared to take\nthat mighty journey with the greatest ease.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. EDMUND, KING AND MARTYR.\n\nNow we are going back, back, back into a thousand years ago, and more.\nWe shall stay in England, but it is a strange, wild England, covered\nwith deep, mysterious green forests, where speckled deer roam about, and\non moonlight nights you can hear the wolves howling. The Englishmen of\nthese days are nearly as fierce as the wolves. If you met one coming\ndown a forest path I believe you'd be a bit afraid of him, with his\nfierce eyes and shaggy head of hair, his round shield and sharp spear. A\ngood many of these Englishmen are still heathens. But St. Benedict's\nmonks have been hard at work for the last few hundred years turning the\nwild country into the beautiful England we know, and the fierce, cruel\nSaxons into brave Christian knights, with kindly, noble hearts as well\nas fearless spirits.\n\nWell, in a part of the country called East Anglia there lived an old\nKing called Offa. He was a Christian, and descended from a line of brave\nand noble Kings called the Uffings. Poor old Offa was very sad, because\nhe felt he was getting old, and he thought that when he died the royal\nline of Uffings would end, for he had no son to succeed him.\n\nAs a matter of fact he _had_ got a son, but many years before God had\ncalled this boy to give up all thoughts of worldly glory and become a\nholy hermit, giving up his life to prayer. When God calls a man to serve\nHim and Him alone, He does not let the world suffer by his loss. God had\na plan of His own for replacing Offa's hermit son by one of the most\nglorious Kings that ever reigned in England, and it is the wonderful\nstory of how he was found, and of his thrilling adventures as the young\nKing of East Anglia, that I'm going to tell you to-night.\n\nWell, something--perhaps it was a whisper from the Holy Spirit--made old\nKing Offa feel that if he prayed very hard he might in some wonderful\nway obtain an heir to his throne.\n\nIn those days, when people wanted to pray very hard and show God they\n_really_ wanted a thing, and really believed He would give it them, they\nused to do what was called \"going on a pilgrimage.\" It was like _doing_\ninstead of only _saying_ a great prayer, for the whole, long, dangerous\njourney was one act of faith and devotion or of thanksgiving.\n\nSo old Offa set out on a pilgrimage to the very best place you could\npilgrimage to--the land where Our Blessed Lord lived and died, where\nthere are still the very same rocky paths His Blessed Feet touched, the\nsame mountains and lakes His Eyes rested on, the very hill where His\nPrecious Blood poured down from the Cross, dyeing the grass and the\nlittle white daisies red. Somehow the King felt that if he could go and\npray where Our Lord had prayed he would get some wonderful answer. So he\nstarted off, crossed the blue sea and landed on the opposite coast. Now,\nGod is so ready to grant the prayers of people who have so much love and\nfaith that He sometimes answers almost before they have asked. That's\nwhat happened with the old King. His way lay through Saxony, the kingdom\nof his cousin Acmund. One day he rode up with his men-at-arms to the\nCourt, and decided to spend a few days there. Acmund, of course,\nwelcomed his cousin, and received him joyfully to the palace.\n\nWell, as King Offa sat resting on one of the low couches covered with\nthe skins of wild beasts that Acmund had killed in the chase, there was\na light footfall outside the chamber, the heavy curtain was drawn back\nfrom the doorway, and there stood before him a tall, slim boy of\nthirteen, with fair hair, truthful blue eyes, and a face tanned with the\nsun and wind of his open-air life. Something seemed to jump up in the\nold King's sad heart. Oh, if only that noble boy were his son, his heir!\nHe was a true Uffing. What a King he would make for East Anglia!\n\nIn the next few days Offa and the King's son, Edmund, became great\nfriends. Edmund took upon himself the job of looking after his old\ncousin, and seeing that he had all he needed and enjoyed his visit at\nthe Court. And Offa watched Edmund with a feeling of love and interest\nsuch as he would have had for his own son. He saw that the boy was brave\nand clever, a good shot with his bow, able to throw a spear straight and\nride a horse. He saw that he was loved by all, and always ready to do\ngood turns and put the wishes of others before his own. But he saw\nsomething that pleased him more--that Edmund was a true, loyal\nChristian. In all the excitement of the chase and the gaiety of the\nCourt, his first thought was of God--to serve Him and please Him, to\nkeep from all sin for His sake.\n\nThe more Offa saw of Edmund, the more sure he felt that God had led him\nto this Court that he might find his heir. Still, though it seemed as if\nhis request was already granted, he did not give up his pilgrimage, but\ndecided to press on, if only as an act of thanksgiving to God.\n\nBefore starting once more on his way, the King called Edmund aside.\nTaking a gold ring from his finger, he put it on Edmund's hand, and told\nhim that if it were God's will this might some day mean great things for\nhim. Then he said good-bye, and rode away towards the East.\n\nYoung Edmund must often have wondered what it was that God held in store\nfor him, and as he looked at the gold ring on his finger I feel sure he\nused to promise God that whatever it was he would _do his best_ to\nfulfil His Holy Will.\n\nWell, old Offa reached Palestine all right. His heart thrilled with joy\nand love as he saw the very village where Jesus was born, and where the\nshepherds came that early Christmas morning to adore the little new-born\nKing. He remembered the three Kings of the East, who came plodding along\non their camels, bearing gifts for Mary's little Son.\n\nThen he went on to Mount Calvary, and the tears ran down his old face as\nhe saw the hill where Our Blessed Lord suffered such agony, with such\nglorious courage, for our sakes. He prayed and gave thanks, and then,\nwith a confident heart, left all the future in God's Hands and started\nhomewards.\n\nBut he had not got very far before he fell ill, and soon his men saw\nthat he was dying. Calling them about him, he told them that it was\nGod's will that young Edmund, Acmund's son, should be their King. Taking\nfrom his finger the signet-ring that had been placed upon it by the\nBishop at his coronation, he commanded that when he was dead it should\nbe carried as quickly as possible to the boy. Then, heaving a last sigh\nof peace and gratitude, he closed his eyes on the world, and his\nfaithful soul went to God.\n\n\n_The Coming of St. Edmund._\n\nNow we will go back to England. The people have heard of the death of\ntheir King, and they are not at all sure that they want a strange young\nPrince from Saxony to come and rule over them. They have collected in a\ngreat crowd on the shore, for the galleys from across the sea have come\nin sight, bearing down before the wind.\n\nThe ships draw every moment nearer, and the people wait. As long as most\nof them can remember they have been ruled over by King Offa; and for\nmany generations their Kings have been Uffings--tall, fair, blue-eyed\nmen, with noble, fearless hearts. What will this strange boy be like?\n\nAnd on the ship young Edmund pushed his way forward to the prow. He\ncould see the green, tree-covered cliffs of his new kingdom, and the\ncrowd of people on the shore. His heart beat fast, and he fingered the\nring old Offa had put on his hand. Oh, if only these people knew that he\ncame to them ready to _do his best_ to be to them a good King--to _do\nhis best_ for them, for the love of God!\n\nSplash, splash!--the big anchors go overboard and the chains rattle as\nthey run out over the bows. Soon Edmund and his men are in small boats,\nbeing rowed swiftly to the shore. Edmund's boat is the foremost and he\nhimself stands up on the prow, ready to leap ashore. As the men of\nEngland look at him they see that he is no stranger, but one of\nthemselves, a true Uffing, and then and there a sense of loyalty springs\nup in their rough hearts.\n\nThe nose of the boat grates on the shore. With a leap Edmund has cleared\nthe water, and is standing on the land of which he is to be King. His\nfirst act is to fall on his knees and ask God's blessing on himself and\nhis people. His short prayer ended, he gets up and turns to greet his\nnew friends; but to his surprise they are all falling on their knees,\nmurmuring to one another, \"A miracle, a miracle!\" For a spring of clear\nwater has bubbled up where Edmund's knees touched the ground--a sign\nfrom Heaven that he is the true King, a symbol of the power of the Holy\nGhost that will well up like a spring in his heart.\n\n\n_The Crowning of St. Edmund._\n\nAfter a time of study and preparation under a holy man, called Bishop\nHumbert, who became a true father to the boy and his lifelong friend,\nthe time of St. Edmund's coronation drew near. It took place on\nChristmas Day, and the old books tell us of the gorgeous procession and\nthe wonderful service. St. Edmund had to make a solemn promise of\nloyalty to God and his people, and after being anointed with holy oil he\nwas clothed in certain royal garments by the Bishop, while a thane\nstepped forward and put sandals on his feet, a purple cloak was put upon\nhis shoulders, and in his hand a sceptre of mercy and an iron rod of\njustice. After that a naked sword was presented to him, and a helmet put\non his head. Then, laying aside all these, St. Edmund stepped forward,\nand standing before the altar declared solemnly that by the grace of God\nhe would fulfil all the duties of a good King. The Bishop placed the\ncrown upon his head, saying, \"Live the King for ever,\" and the people\nall cried, \"Amen, amen, amen.\"\n\nAfter that there was a solemn service of praise and thanksgiving to God,\nand the new King received Holy Communion. You can imagine how happy it\nmade the holy young King that this should be the very first act of his\nreign, and what confidence it gave him that Christ would stay with him\nthrough all the difficult years to come.\n\n\n_War._\n\nFor a long time there was peace in St. Edmund's kingdom, though the\npeople in other parts of the country were suffering terribly from their\nenemies, the Danes, who came over in wild hordes from the North in their\nlow, black-sailed boats, and, landing on the coast, went through the\ncountry burning and plundering and killing.\n\nSt. Edmund knew they would sooner or later invade his kingdom too. So he\nset to work to prepare for them. His chief way of doing this was to win\nthe loyalty of all his subjects, so that if there was war he knew they\nwould all rally round him. He made wise laws, and he was so fair to all,\nand so ready to listen to the poor and oppressed and help them, that\nsoon everyone in the kingdom loved the young King and would do anything\nfor him. They could see that God was with him, and they could not help\nfeeling that in serving the humblest of his subjects he felt that it was\nChrist Himself that he served.\n\nSt. Edmund had, of course, prepared his army and had thrown up defences\nto try and keep the enemy out as long as possible. You can still see one\nof his great earthworks running from Newmarket to the Fen country. For\nhundreds of years it was called \"Edmund's Dyke.\" He placed scouts and\noutposts all round his borders, and prepared in every way he could.\n\nAt last the day came when the country people came running into the towns\nin terror. They had seen along the borders huge, fierce men, with\nflashing eyes and long red hair and beards. Their leather tunics were\nstained dark with blood. Huge round shields were slung across their\nbacks; they were armed with spears, bows, clubs, and knives, and they\nshouted to one another in a strange language.\n\nSt. Edmund's scouts came running in to say that the Danes were\ncollecting in great crowds on the frontiers.\n\nSoon they began creeping in at every point, burning houses and churches,\nand killing people, especially the Christians. Though it was an almost\nhopeless job, St. Edmund led his brave army forward, and whenever it was\npossible he engaged the enemy in battles and drove them out. The Danes\nhad never before been so powerfully resisted, and thousands of them were\nkilled. There's not time now to tell you all of the thrilling adventures\nSt. Edmund had at this time, and of his wonderful escapes from the\nDanes. Anyhow, the Danes were so much weakened that they asked for\npeace, and after spending the winter in a great camp at Thetford, they\nsailed away, full of rage and hatred and desire for revenge.\n\n\n_A Cowardly Plot._\n\nFor a time there was peace, and then a sad thing happened.\n\nOne stormy day when the waves dashed and foamed up the shingly beach,\nand the sea and sky were a leaden grey, the fisher-folk who lived down\nby the shore saw a small boat, with tattered sails and broken mast,\nbeing driven before the wind. There seemed to be a man in it, but he was\nevidently weak and exhausted, and was doing nothing to help himself.\nPresently the boat was thrown up on the shore, and the fishermen ran\ndown and collected in a little crowd round it. Looking down at the\nhelpless man, still clinging to a spar and drenched with foam and\nsea-water, they soon saw he was not one of their people. \"A Dane, a\nDane!\" they murmured with sullen hate. Then one who had served in St.\nEdmund's army suddenly gave a wild exclamation. \"By Heaven,\" he said,\n\"it's Lothparch!\" Lothparch was the leader of the Danish army who had\ndone such awful harm to East Anglia only a few years before. \"Kill him!\"\ngrowled one man. \"Throw him back on the mercy of the sea!\" hissed\nanother. But the man who had fought under St. Edmund would have nothing\nof the kind. The King never allowed a helpless man, even a cruel enemy,\nto be killed. So Lothparch was carried up to the royal palace.\n\nTo the surprise of the fierce Angles, St. Edmund not only made the\nstranger welcome, but showed him every kindness. \"Love your enemies,\"\nsaid Our Lord, and sure enough St. Edmund seemed truly to be obeying\nthat command. Everything the King did seemed right to his loyal\nsubjects; but there was one man--Berne, the King's huntsman--whose\njealousy was so bitter at St. Edmund's showing favour to a Dane that he\nwaited till he had an opportunity, and then he murdered Lothparch.\n\nThe King was very angry, of course; but he said that, though Berne\ndeserved to die for the crime, he would give him a faint chance of\nescape; he should be put in an open boat, and pushed out to sea and left\nto the mercy of the waves.\n\nAfter tossing for many days, Berne was washed up on a strange coast.\n\nDuring those lonely days of tossing on the waves, instead of repenting\nof his crime, Berne's wicked heart had been full of hatred for the King.\nSo when he heard that the land he had come to was Lothparch's own\nkingdom, and that his two sons, Inguar and Hubba, were reigning in his\nplace, a horrible idea came into his mind. Asking to be taken before the\nPrinces, he made up and told them an awful lie, saying that when their\nfather, Lothparch, had been washed up, helpless, on the coast of\nEngland, Edmund the King had caused him to be cruelly put to death.\n\nOf course, this enraged Inguar and Hubba, and they at once collected a\nhuge and fierce army, and set out once more for East Anglia.\n\n\n_A Fight to the Death._\n\nLanding in the North, and marching from York southward, the Danes\nplundered every city they passed through. They burned the monastery that\nhad been built at Croyland (St. Guthlac's isle), and also those at\nPeterborough, Ramsey, Soham, and Ely. Meeting St. Edmund's army, they\ndefeated it completely, killed the brave General who commanded it, and\ntook Thetford by storm. Then they sent St. Edmund a message to say that\nhe must give up half his kingdom and pay heavy taxes, or they would do\nthe most terrible \"frightfulness\" throughout the land.\n\nBut St. Edmund and his men decided to make one great effort to keep\ntheir land in liberty and true to the Christian Faith. At the head of\nhis gallant army, St. Edmund marched on Inguar's army, and a ghastly\nbattle began.\n\nArrows flew thick; swords clashed on shields; great spears tore men open\nand left them to bleed to death. All day the battle raged, but at night\nthe Danes fell back exhausted, and St. Edmund held the field,\nvictorious. But as he stood in the moonlight and looked upon the scene\nhis heart sank.\n\nBefore him stretched the great battlefield, its trampled grass all\nsoaked in blood; and around him, silent for ever, lay his great army--an\narmy of dead men. With a heavy heart he led back his little handful of\ntired and wounded soldiers to the camp.\n\nThe next day came terrible news. Hubba, with ten thousand men, had\nmarched up and joined his brother.\n\n\n_The Martyr._\n\nIt was hopeless to try and resist any more--the King knew it, and his\npeople knew it, and they shuddered to think of their fate. Then a great\nidea came to the King.\n\nIt was he himself the Danes hated so. If only they had him in their\npower, perhaps they would leave his beloved country in peace! The more\nhe thought of this, the more certain he felt that, by giving himself up,\nhe could buy the peace and happiness and safety of his people. Christ,\nhis Captain, had done this--He had not feared to face the most cruel\ndeath to save mankind, and St. Edmund's heart suddenly leapt with the\nthought that he would follow Christ and do the same!\n\nAt first his old friend the Bishop, St. Humbert, tried to hold him back.\nBut after a while he saw that St. Edmund was quite resolved. He spoke of\nit with such courage and joy that the aged Bishop knew the Holy Spirit\nmust be in his heart leading him to this glorious sacrifice of himself,\nthis giving of his very life for his God and his friends, this quest for\nthe martyr's crown. And so he gave him his blessing and bade him do as\nhis brave heart prompted him. So, calling together his people, St.\nEdmund told them what he was going to do. You can imagine what they\nfelt--how they begged him with tears not to do it. But nothing would\nmake him change his mind--he knew it was God's Will.\n\nBravely he gave his last order to his men. It was that all the gates of\nthe fortress should be thrown open, all the defences left unguarded,\nnothing done to stop the Danes entering it. Then he made his way to the\nchapel. Unbuckling his faithful sword, he laid it on the steps of the\naltar, and knelt down, with no protection save God's mercy.\n\nThe little chapel was very dim, and full of a holy feeling. All was\nstill. It seemed to the young King as if he were far, far away from the\nrest of the world, from all the horror of bloodshed and crashing\nbattle-axes that had filled the last few weeks like some horrible dream.\nHe let his mind just rest on the thought of God and His love, and a\nwonderful peace came over him.\n\nNear him knelt the old Bishop, and his heart was near to breaking, for\nhe loved St. Edmund very much. The tears ran down his furrowed cheeks,\nand fell silently on the steps of the altar, but he spoke no word.\nSilently the moments passed, and then, suddenly, a sound broke the\nstillness that sent a cold shiver through St. Humbert. Wild shouts,\ncoarse laughter, the clash and clatter of armed men rushing in wild\ntriumph through the fortress. It was the King they were seeking. Where\nwas he? They cared for nothing but to find him and wreak their revenge.\n\nThe shouts came nearer . . . the tramp of feet . . . the clang and\nscrape of spears against the wall. Nearer, nearer, until the chapel door\nburst open and a crowd of cruel faces peered in. Then a wild oath rang\nthrough the quiet of the chapel. They had found the King! Rushing in,\nthey seized him and dragged him out.\n\n\n_\"Faithful unto Death.\"_\n\nIn a field beyond the town the Danes tied St. Edmund to a tree. They\nwere determined to have a full revenge. With long whips they began to\nscourge his naked body. Each lash was like the touch of a red-hot iron,\nand left a long, bleeding wound in the bare flesh. But St. Edmund only\nrejoiced that, at last, he could share truly what Christ had suffered\nfrom the Roman soldiers. No cry escaped him, except now and then the\nname of Jesus.\n\nThen, throwing down their whips, the Danes took up their bows. The\narrows fell thickly round St. Edmund, piercing him in every part, until,\nas the old book says, he was as covered with arrows as a porcupine with\nquills.\n\nInguar, the Danish Prince, looked on with a horrible smile of cruel\nenjoyment. Hearing the Holy Name break like a sob from the mouth of the\nmartyr, he began to taunt him, telling him to give up his faith in\nChrist, since it had only brought him to this. But St. Edmund was\n\"faithful unto death.\" Soon, soon he would receive the \"crown of life,\"\nthe welcome of the King of kings.\n\nSeeing that nothing could make St. Edmund cry for mercy or give up his\nfaith in God, Inguar drew his long sword, and, with a hoarse laugh of\ntriumph, cut the martyr's head from his body.\n\nFree and glorious the soul of King Edmund rose from his bloodstained\nbody into the sunlight of heaven.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSt. Edmund had not sacrificed himself in vain. The Danes, so greatly\nweakened by the bloody battles they had fought, gave up the idea of\nruling East Anglia, and sailed away to their country, leaving St.\nEdmund's people in peace, and free to practise the Christian Faith.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTH DAY (SUNDAY)\n\n\nEveryone dressed quickly and quietly, found his Prayer-Book somewhere in\nthe far depths of his kit-bag, and ran down to sit on the sea wall and\nwait for Akela and the last Cub or two (the ones whose boots had got\nlost, or who were so fussy about parting their hair, etc., that dressing\ntook rather a long time).\n\nVery reverently they went into church, and very quietly came out again\nand up to the field.\n\nBreakfast, a run round the field to let off steam, and then down to the\nshore for a bathe.\n\nIn the afternoon every Cub got hold of a piece of paper and a pencil,\nand sat, lay, knelt, or squatted in some corner, his tongue well out and\nhis brow furrowed with thought, to write home.\n\nSome wrote very private letters, all on their own, and didn't give the\nshow away even to ask how to spell the hardest words, like \"library\"\n(which might just as well be \"lybary,\" or \"librurry,\" or \"lieberry\"). Of\ncourse, library, in some form or other, came into all their letters,\nbecause they all wanted to tell about the adventure of going to Quarr\nAbbey. Some Cubs, sacrificing the privateness of their letters, decided\nthat if Akela or Godmother did the writing, while they did the _saying\nwhat_, it would be much quicker, and much more could be told to \"mother\nand all at home.\" So they brought their paper and pencils, and asked\nAkela to do it in \"proper, quick writing.\" They told _everything_--even\nwhat they had had for dinner each day, and one said his bed at camp was\nmuch \"comfortabler\" than his bed at home.\n\nAfter tea there was a little cricket practice and some tree-climbing,\nand then supper and, of course, night prayers. And then, feeling as if\nthey had lived in camp all their lives, instead of only five days, the\nCubs walked contentedly down the hill to bed.\n\nPatsy, as usual, was having a free ride on Akela's back, and he was\ncertainly quite a lot heavier than the first day.\n\nBefore long everyone was established in the Coach-house and the candle\nlighted.\n\n\"To-night,\" said Akela, \"I'm going to tell you about a very Cubby Saint.\nI know he would have loved Cubs, because he loved small boys and wild\nanimals; in fact, a certain wolf was a great friend of his; and he\nthought it worth while, once, to preach a beautiful sermon to a flock of\nbirds. He was always laughing or singing or doing something Cubby, and\nhe had ideas he used to teach his followers, very much like our Cub Law\nand Motto. His name was St. Francis of Assisi. Now listen, for I\nspecially want you to make friends with St. Francis, because I love him\nvery much.\"\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. FRANCIS--I.\n\nThere was once a boy called Francis, who lived in a curious old town in\nthe mountains of Italy. The town was called Assisi. It was all funny\nlittle up-and-down streets and flights of long, crooked stone steps; and\nthere was a wall all round (to keep enemies out), and big gates in the\nwall that were closed at night. The purple hills and mountains spread\naway as far as you could see beneath a blue, blue sky, and all round the\ncity there were vineyards, and lovely little rocky paths winding about\namong the silvery olive-trees.\n\nFrancis was the son of a rich merchant called Peter Bernardone. He was a\nregular Cubby boy--always laughing and singing, ready for mischief, but\nstill more ready to do anyone a good turn. He was Peter Bernardone's\nonly son, and he had a jolly good time of it, because his father had\nmade up his mind that young Francis should make a success of life, and\nend by being a great man in the town. He used to smile to himself and\nrub his hands together as he saw what a clever, handsome boy Francis was\ngrowing up into, and how everybody loved him, and how he was always the\nringleader in all the fun. As Francis grew to be a young man his father\nwould encourage him to give lots of feasts to his friends, not minding\nhow much they cost, and it pleased him to see that it was always Francis\nwho was the life of these feasts, making jokes, leading cheerful\nsingsongs, enjoying himself no end, and making everyone else enjoy\nthemselves. But while Peter Bernardone chuckled to see young Francis so\ngay and popular, Francis' mother, Pica, used to notice little things\nthat made her happy too, only in a different way. She noticed that\nFrancis never really gave in to himself, like his wild friends; never\noverate himself in a greedy way or drank enough wine to make him drunk;\nnever thought it funny to tell nasty stories or swear; and if ever God's\nname was mentioned, it seemed to make him serious for a moment. \"One\nday,\" she said, \"he will become a son of God.\" But her friends thought\nit a silly remark to make, for Francis seemed to be living just to\nplease himself and have a jolly time. But mothers are generally right in\nwhat they prophesy about their sons, and Pica's remark was really a very\ntrue one. This story is all about how Francis gave up being a rich\nmerchant's son and became a poor man who found all his joy and his\nriches in calling _God_ his _Father_. The change did not come easily,\nand a great many wonderful adventures befell him, which I am going to\ntell you now.\n\nIt all began with a war between Assisi and another city. Of course,\nFrancis and his pals joined in the fray and thought it great sport, till\nthey got captured and carried off prisoners. It was not sport at all\nbeing shut up in stuffy old houses with only a little food and nothing\nto do. Francis used to cheer them up with troubadour songs and stories.\nBut although he always seemed so cheerful, it was doing great harm to\nhis health, and when, after a year, the prisoners were freed and\nreturned to Assisi, Francis became very ill indeed. So ill was he that\nhe came near dying, and this experience of nearly passing out into the\nnext life made him begin to think seriously. When he was well enough to\ngo out, walking slowly with a stick because of his weakness, he felt\nthat life could never be quite the same; he must _do_ something, take a\nman's place in the world.\n\nWell, the chance soon came, for all the young Christian men were called\nout to fight in a Crusade. A certain nobleman of Assisi started getting\nup a party, and Francis decided to join him. He soon had all his\nkit--armour, a bright sword, a good horse, and all complete; and with a\ngay heart, full of a thirst for adventure and a determination to do\ngreat things, he waited impatiently for the start. He had been rather\npuzzled as to what to do with himself, and now he felt he had hit on the\nright plan. So it was a bit of a surprise when, his very first night\naway, something happened which unsettled his mind altogether and made\nhim feel it was not God's will that he should go to the Crusades.\n\nThe night before the party set out Francis had had a very curious dream,\nabout a beautiful palace, all hung round with knightly arms, which a\nmysterious voice told him was for him and his followers. This made him\nso happy that the next day, when someone asked him what good fortune he\nhad had, he replied that now he knew for certain he was to be a great\nprince and leader of men. But the next night, as he lay in the hostelry\non the first halt along the road, something still more strange happened.\nHe was not asleep, and yet, through the still darkness, he heard the\nmysterious voice of his dream, and it said: \"Francis, whom is it better\nto serve, the lord or the servant?\" \"Surely it is better to serve the\nlord,\" replied Francis, softly, into the dark. And the voice answered:\n\"Why, then, dost thou make a lord of the servant?\" Then it all seemed to\nflash on Francis, and he felt sure this was a Voice from heaven, and he\nreplied very humbly: \"Lord, what dost Thou wish me to do?\" And the Voice\nsaid: \"Return to the land of thy birth, and there it will be told thee\nwhat thou shalt do; for it may behove thee to give another meaning to\nthy dream.\" He felt so positive that the Voice was from heaven, that he\nfelt he simply could not disobey it. So, although it cost him a lot to\ndo it, he turned his horse's head northwards and rode home.\n\nThere was nothing to do now but wait for God to show him His Will. He\ntried to settle down again to his old life of feasting and gaiety, but\nsomehow he couldn't throw himself into it. There was something he was\nfeeling after, but he didn't know what.\n\nOne day something happened which was the beginning of great things.\n\nFrancis had been out for a ride beyond the city. As he turned his\nhorse's head homewards and rode slowly back towards the golden sunset,\nhe suddenly saw, a little way ahead, something that made him shudder and\nalmost turn aside on to another path. It was a poor leper, his filthy\nrags only half covering his wretched body, with its horrible running\nsores. His face was swollen and disfigured, and his eyes full of the\nfrightened misery of a hunted animal. Now, seeing lepers always made\nFrancis feel quite sick. He hated horrible sights. But somehow,\nto-night, a new feeling woke up in him--a sudden feeling of brotherhood\nwith this poor man, almost of love for him. It was such terribly bad\nluck that he had caught leprosy and become a ghastly sight, so that he\ncould not earn any money nor come near the town. Francis felt in his\nwallet for a silver piece to give him, and then he thought how sad it\nmust be to have money flung at you by strangers, who passed by with head\nturned away because they loathed the very sight of you. How the lepers\nmust long for just a friendly look, a smile! A great idea suddenly leapt\nup in Francis's mind, and it took all his courage not to give in to\nhimself. As he came up with the leper, he jumped off his horse, took a\nsilver piece from his pocket, and held it out to the man. The leper,\nfull of surprise, held out his poor swollen stump of a hand, with\nseveral fingers already rotted away, to take the coin. But meeting the\nman's eyes, and seeing in them the look of hunger for friendship,\nFrancis took the poor hand in his, as he would the hand of his friend,\npressed the coin into it, and then, stooping, pressed his lips upon it\nin a kiss. Then, with his heart full of joy, he remounted his horse and\nrode home.\n\nWith that kiss a wonderful new idea had sprung up in Francis's heart--a\nsense of love for the poor, of longing not only to help them, but to\nshare their very lives, to be one of them. At first he tried to satisfy\nhis longing to help them by making great feasts and serving his poor\nguests with his own hands. One day he went on a pilgrimage to Rome, and\nas he saw the crowd of beggars clustering round a certain shrine in hope\nthat the pilgrims would give them money, he longed to become just one of\nthem. So, taking one of them aside, he exchanged his fine clothes with\nthe beggar for his dirty rags, and spent the whole day with his poor\nbrothers in the dust and the scorching sun, enjoying the sense of being\na mere outcast to whom rich men threw ha'pence.\n\nStill, when he returned to his home he was as puzzled as ever as to what\nhe should do. He took to spending long hours at prayer in a certain cave\nbegging God to make known His Will; and at last God answered his prayer,\nand I will tell you how.\n\nFrancis had been for a long walk outside the city, and as he returned\nalong the stony little mountain paths, the evening sunlight dazzling\nhis eyes, and the olive-trees whispering to each other in the soft\nevening air, he noticed a tumble-down little wayside church. Something\nmade him stop and turn in.\n\nIt was very dim and cool and quiet. There was no one there--except God.\nA lamp burned with a feeble flicker in the sanctuary. Francis knelt down\nand began to pray. Then, out of the stillness a strange, wonderful Voice\nspoke his name--\"_Francis_.\" He knew directly Whose Voice it was--Our\nBlessed Lord's. \"Yes, Lord,\" he answered, his heart beating rather fast,\nthough he felt very happy. \"Francis, go and repair My church, which thou\nseest falling,\" said the Voice. Then all was still.\n\nThe tones of that Voice seemed to vibrate through and through Francis.\nHe was filled with a great desire to obey--to do anything, anything Our\nLord wanted. \"Repair My church,\" He had said. He must mean this poor\nlittle tumble-down house of His, that was certainly on the point of\nfalling. So Francis jumped up from his knees and went out into the\nsunlight very happy. He found the old priest, who lived in a poor little\nhouse near by, and, telling him the wonderful thing that had happened,\ngave him all the money he had, and promised to return soon with enough\nto rebuild the church. Then he hurried home.\n\nHis father was away on a journey. So Francis went down to the warehouse\nand picked out the most costly bale of rich stuff he could find. Then he\ntook a good horse, and, putting the bale of stuff on his back, set out\nfor the town of Foligno. Here he sold both the stuff and the horse, and\nreturned with a good sum of money. Full of joy, he hurried along the\nlittle mountain path to the old priest's house, and held out the heavy\npurse of gold to him. But the priest was afraid to accept it, for he was\nnot at all sure that Francis's father would be pleased about it. Francis\nwas disappointed. He had got the money for the church, and certainly\nwasn't going to carry it home again; so he threw it into the deep recess\nof one of the windows of the little church, and left it there. Then he\ntold the priest he meant to stay, for here Our Lord had spoken to him,\nand he must stay and see to the building of the church.\n\nThe old priest was very kind, and let Francis share his little house and\nhis poor fare, and Francis began to feel like a kind of hermit, living a\nlife of prayer.\n\nMeanwhile Peter Bernardone returned from his journey. When he heard what\nFrancis had done, and his new, mad idea of living like a hermit on the\nmountain-side, he was furiously angry. Taking a stick in his hand, he\nset out, saying he would teach the young fool a good lesson and bring\nhim home. But one of the servants ran ahead by a short cut and warned\nFrancis. Francis had no wish to meet his angry father armed with a stout\nstick, so he fled and hid himself in a cave, and Peter Bernardone had to\ngo home again, even angrier than he set out. For about ten days Francis\nstayed in hiding, the servant bringing him food. He spent this time in\nprayer. This made him braver, and he began to think that he had been a\n\"funk\" to run away and hide and not face the music, so he decided to\nmake up for it by being braver.\n\nHis time of hiding in the dark, dirty cave, with little food, had made\nhim look thin, untidy, and a bit of a scarecrow. The people of Assisi\nhad heard what he had done, and they decided he must have gone mad. So\nwhen he appeared in the city the boys began throwing stones and rubbish\nat him, and calling after him. Francis bore it all patiently, and felt\nrather a hero. But presently Peter Bernardone discovered that his son\nwas being insulted in the streets. It filled him with rage, and he\nrushed out, dragged Francis indoors, gave him a good flogging and shut\nhim up in a little cell. Here he had to stay for some time, until his\nfather went on another journey and his mother let him out. Of course,\nhe went straight back to the little church on the hill-side, and here,\nwhen his father came back, he found him. Peter Bernardone stormed at him\nand demanded the money back, but Francis would not give it, saying he\nhad given it to God. So Peter Bernardone went to the Bishop about it.\nThe matter came up at the Bishop's Court, and the Bishop had to tell\nFrancis to give back the money. Bernardone was so angry with his son\nthat he then and there disinherited him, and said he would not own him\nas his son any more. So Francis took off his very clothes and gave them\nback to his father, saying, \"Now will I say no more Peter Bernardone is\nmy father, but only 'Our Father Who art in heaven.'\" So, taking the\nbundle of clothes, old Bernardone stalked out of the Court.\n\nSomeone fetched Francis a rough habit, such as was worn by the\nfarm-hands. On this Francis chalked a big cross, and, putting it on,\nstepped out joyfully, feeling that at last he was free to serve God, in\nwhatever way He wanted him to, and share the life of the poor.\n\nHe felt somehow that he must get right away, alone; so he started\nwalking up over the mountains, not caring where he went. Soon he was\nright up among the pines, and as night fell he found it was pretty cold,\nfor the winter's snow still lay in the deep shade of the trees. But he\nwas so happy that he did not care for anything, and as he went he sang\naloud for joy.\n\nThen, suddenly, out of the dark wood a band of robbers pounced on him.\n\"Who are you?\" they cried. \"I am the herald of the great King!\" answered\nFrancis. So they stripped him of his habit, and threw him in a ditch\nfull of snow.\n\nLuckily, the next day he found a friend in a town the other side of the\nmountains, who gave him a pilgrim's cloak, a pair of shoes, and a staff.\nThen, after a bit more wandering, St. Francis returned to the little\nchurch and settled down with the old priest, meaning now in good earnest\nto build up the church.\n\nSince he had no money to buy what was needed, the only thing was to beg.\nSo he went out in the streets begging for stones to build up the little\nchurch. The poor people were very kind, and gave him stones, and some of\nthem came and helped, and soon they and Francis together had begun\nrebuilding the walls. Every day Francis went begging, and sometimes it\nwas very hard not to _give in to himself_ and go skulking down a\nside-street when he saw a group of his old friends ahead. But he went\nbravely on, and faced their stares and laughter.\n\nOne day it struck Francis that he ought not to be eating the old\npriest's scanty store of food, which he noticed his kind old friend used\nto cook and try and prepare as nicely as possible for him. This was not\nwhat a true lover of poverty should do. \"Rise up, thou lazy one,\" he\nsaid to himself, \"and go begging from door to door the leavings of the\ntable.\" So, taking a big dish, he went round the houses of the\ntownspeople asking for scraps. They gave him broken bits of messy old\nfood, and he returned with his dish full. But when he sat down to supper\nhe didn't feel at all like eating from that pile of scraps--the very\nthought made him feel quite sick. But he was learning to conquer\nhimself, and by the time the meal was done he felt he had really\naccomplished something, and was at last really a poor man and ready to\nlive on what God's mercy would give him from day to day.\n\nAll this time he had been praying a great deal, and learning to know God\nvery much better. More and more he felt that God meant to use him for\nsomething special--_what_ he did not know.\n\nAt last the little grey church was all built up new and strong, and\nFrancis felt the job Our Lord had given him was done. But as God had not\nshown him anything else to do, he set out and found another tumble-down\nlittle church to build up, and started on that. When that, too, was\nfinished, he started on a third one. The third one had been restored,\nand a service was being held in it for the first time since its\nrestoration, and Francis was assisting at this service, when something\nhappened which sent him on a new adventure, and which proved to be the\nbeginning of the great adventure which filled all the rest of his life.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"That's a good stop,\" said Akela. \"If we started on St. Francis's next\nadventure, we could not finish it before you all fell asleep. So we will\nkeep it for to-morrow night. To-morrow you will hear how the boy Francis\nturns into the man St. Francis, and what a wonderful life of service and\nsuffering for God he begins to have, and how he ends in becoming a great\nSaint, and one of the greatest leaders of men.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH DAY\n\n\nThe splashing sound of Cubs making good use of soap and water; snatches\nof cheerful song; the lamentation of someone who had lost the \"relation\"\nof his left sand-shoe; the sound of a Sixer trying to make a sleepy-head\nturn out--all these sounds filled the sunny morning. Presently there\nfell on the ears of Akela (who was still in her \"den\") the sound of an\nargument.\n\n\"I say it's _dirt_,\" cried one; \"he's a dirty-neck, who doesn't know how\nto wash himself. . . .\"\n\n\"'Taint!\" squealed a small Cub; \"it's the sun what's made my neck\n_brown_.\"\n\n\"Garn! it's not using soap what's made your neck that colour, dirty\nlittle. . . .\"\n\n_Splosh!_ Somebody got a wet flannel in the eye that time.\n\n\"Now, then, what's up?\" cries a Sixer, coming up to the group. Quite a\nlittle crowd collects.\n\n\"He says my neck's _dirty_,\" wails the small Cub, \"and really it's the\nsun. . . .\"\n\nSomeone has a bright idea: \"Let's ask Miss.\"\n\nSo Akela comes out, and scrubs the neck in question with soap and\nflannel. It turns out to be nearly all sunburn, with just a _little_\ndirt.\n\nThe sun is shining, and the sky is full of \"flocks of sheep\"--those\ntiny, steady white clouds that stretch in close rows across the sky in\nfine weather. The dew on the grass is nearly dry already when the Cubs\nget to the field.\n\n\"Prayers!\" calls Akela, and the Cubs come up quietly and form a kneeling\ncircle.\n\nI haven't told you what the morning prayers of the Cubs were, so I will\ntell you now.\n\n\nA PRAYER THAT WE MAY PRAY WELL (_see page 6_).\n\n\nOUR FATHER.\n\n          _V._ Incline unto mine aid, O God.\n          _R._ O Lord, make haste to help me.\n               Glory be to the Father, etc.\n\n\nHYMN.\n\n          The star of morn to night succeeds,\n            We therefore meekly pray:\n          May God in all our words and deeds\n            Keep us from harm this day.\n\n          May He in love restrain us still\n            From tones of strife and words of ill;\n          And may earth's beauties that we see\n            Remind us always, Lord, of Thee. _Amen._\n\n\nCONFESSION.\n\n          I confess to Almighty God that I have sinned\n          against Him in thought, word, and deed. (_Pause a\n          moment and think of your sins._) May Almighty God\n          have mercy upon us, and forgive us our sins, and\n          bring us to life everlasting.\n\n\n_Let us pray_\n\nA PRAYER THAT THIS DAY MAY BE PLEASING TO GOD.\n\n          O Lord God Almighty, Who hast brought us to the\n          beginning of this day, defend us in the same by\n          Thy power, that we may not fall this day into any\n          sin, but that all our thoughts, words, and works\n          may be directed to the fulfilment of THY WILL.\n          Through our Lord Jesus Christ, Thy Son. _Amen._\n\n\nOUR FATHER.\n\n          A PRAYER THAT WE MAY BE FORGIVEN ANY WANDERING\n            THOUGHTS WE HAVE HAD WHILE RECITING THESE PRAYERS.\n\nBreakfast over, and orderly jobs finished, the Pack went down to the\nshore and had a splendid bathe. Several of the Cubs had really begun to\nswim; while Bill, Dick, and Mac, who could swim already, were getting\ngood practice. Mac meant to get his Swimmer's Badge as soon as he got\nback to London, so he practised floating and duck's diving and the other\nthings you have to do.\n\nAfter dinner and rest Father took some cricket practice, because\nto-morrow there was to be a match.\n\n\"No one must talk to me,\" said Akela, settling down in a sunny corner\nwith some papers; \"I'm doing something very important.\" Cubs always want\nto know everything, so of course they said, _What was the important\nthing?_\n\n\"Reading proof,\" said Akela.\n\n\"What's 'proof'?\" said the Cubs.\n\n\"This is proof,\" said Akela, holding out a long narrow strip of printed\npaper. \"It's the way they print stories at first, and it has mistakes in\nit. I have to read it through and correct the mistakes. Now, if you\ndon't shut up and go away, the next instalment in the _Wolf Cub_ will\nhave mistakes in it--see?\"\n\n\"Is it the next bit of the 'Mysterious Tramp'?\" cried the Cubs.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThat did it. A Cub sat down each side of Akela and read over her\nshoulder, and one jumped up and down in front, saying: \"Miss, is it\ngood?\"\n\nEvery now and then Akela made strange little squiggles in the\nmargin--secret signs only the printer-man could understand.\n\n\"_Coo!_ what silly mistakes he makes!\" said one of the Cubs in derision.\n\"I wouldn't have done that in dictation even when I was in Standard I.!\"\n\n\"_I_ think he makes very few mistakes,\" said Akela; \"other printer-men\nmake lots more. You see, this one is printing the _Wolf Cub_, so he has\nto _do his best_.\"\n\nThe cricket people had been \"doing _their_ best\" at cricket to such good\npurpose that they had succeeded in splitting one of the bats.\n\nSo after tea Akela and some of them went down to the man who sells bats\nand golf-balls, down by the tennis-courts. The road where his shop is\nruns between the seashore and a big stretch of grassy land, called the\nDover.\n\n\"That,\" said Akela, \"is the very place where Billy got carried up by the\ngiant kite.\"\n\nIt was a favourite story of the Cubs, so they were pleased to see the\nplace.\n\n\"Is that the fierce bull?\" said one.\n\n\"No,\" said Akela, \"that's a sleepy old cow.\"\n\nThe man said he would mend the bat in time for to-morrow's match.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. FRANCIS.--II.\n\nThe little church St. Francis had last restored was very wee, but it had\na very long name. It was called the Portiuncola, which meant \"the little\nportion.\" It was built all among the trees and long grass, and mossy,\nfern-covered rocks; and the birds sang around it. St. Francis loved the\nspot very much--it was like home to him--and he spent a lot of time\nthere. Besides, it was not far from the leper settlement, and he had now\ntaken on himself the rather horrible job of serving the poor lepers--a\njob that was very pleasing to Our Lord, specially as He saw St. Francis\ndid it all for love of Him, and served each wretched man as if he was\nJesus Christ. Then, too, the Portiuncola was not very far from the town\nwhere Francis begged his food.\n\nWell, early one morning, while the sun shone outside on the dewy world,\nand the birds sang their morning hymns of praise, a priest said Mass in\nthe little chapel, and St. Francis knelt praying with all his heart.\nPresently the priest read out the Gospel, and, as usual, St. Francis\nlistened with great attention. And suddenly, as he listened, he felt\nthat those words of Our Lord which the priest was reading out were a\nmessage from heaven for _him_--_the very \"orders\" he had been waiting\nfor_! These were the words:\n\n\"Going forth, preach, saying: The kingdom of heaven is at hand. . . .\nPossess not gold, nor silver, nor money in your houses, nor scrip for\nyour journey, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor a staff; for the workman is\nworthy of his meat. And into whatsoever city or town you shall enter,\ninquire who in it is worthy, and there abide till you go hence. And when\nyou come into a house, salute it, saying: Peace be to this house. . . .\nBehold I send you as sheep in the midst of wolves. Be ye therefore wise\nas serpents, but simple as doves. . . . But when they shall deliver you\nup, take no thought how or what to speak: for it shall be given you in\nthat hour what to speak\" (Matt. x. 7-19).\n\nHere were clear orders. Something in St. Francis answered to that call,\nand this something was the Holy Spirit of God speaking in his heart, as\nHe always does in those who really wait and listen and _mean_ to obey\nshould God speak.\n\nWhen the Mass was finished, St. Francis got the priest to read the words\nover to him again. And then, feeling quite sure he had discovered God's\nHoly Will, he began to obey it _at once_. He took off his shoes; he laid\naside his second garment, making himself a rough brown habit; he put\ndown his staff, and he exchanged his belt for a bit of rope. Then,\nfeeling full of joy, he set out along the stony road on his bare feet,\ntowards the town--not to beg this time, but to give the greeting of\n\"Peace,\" and to tell the people to make up their quarrels and forgive\neach other, and turn with all their hearts to the Lord Christ.\n\nThe people of the town did not laugh now, and jeer; they saw that St.\nFrancis was speaking to them from the bottom of his pure heart--a heart\non fire with the love of God--and that the grace of Jesus Christ, his\nMaster, was upon him. And before long two men of Assisi had joined him\nas the first of the great company who were to follow him--for you\nremember how he was to be a leader, and that the palace of his dream had\nbeen promised to him and his followers.\n\nThis is the story of St. Francis's first recruit. His name was Bernard\nde Quintavalle, and he was a rich merchant, serious and God-fearing, and\nnot a bit like the gay, eager St. Francis. But seeing how unselfish and\nhard-working a life St. Francis led, and that God's Holy Spirit was with\nhim, he began to visit the young preacher, and to receive him in his\nhouse. St. Francis willingly gave his friendship to such a good man.\n\nBernard used to like St. Francis to sleep on a bed in his own room.\nOften at night he would lie awake, thinking; and he would notice that\nafter a short sleep St. Francis got out of bed and knelt down, and spent\nthe rest of the night praying to God. The only words Bernard could hear\nwere just \"My God and my All, my God and my All,\" which St. Francis\nrepeated over and over again, as if his soul was really seeing God, and\nhis heart was so full of love for Him that he could say nothing else.\nAnd Bernard understood the secret of St. Francis's holiness and purity,\nfor to one who prays like that God pours out very much grace, so that he\ncan begin to be all that he knows he ought to be if he is really to\nplease the Lord Christ, his Master.\n\nSo one day Bernard told St. Francis that he wanted to give back to God\nall his riches and become his poor brother. So St. Francis said what\nthey ought to do would be to go to the church and read in the Gospel,\nwhere the words of Jesus Christ would show them what to do.\n\nBefore going to the church, however, they called for another friend of\ntheirs--a learned man called Peter Cathanii, who also wanted to serve\nGod perfectly, and had been trying humbly to learn how from St. Francis.\n\nBut St. Francis, though holy, and Bernard, though rich, and Peter,\nthough clever at his books, did not any of them know their way about in\nthe big Bible that was kept open in the church for all to read (for\nthere were no printed books in those days, and a Bible was very costly,\nso that few people had a copy of their own).\n\nSo St. Francis prayed that he might come on the right place, and then he\nopened the book. This was what he read out: \"If thou wouldst be perfect,\ngo, sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have\ntreasure in heaven; and come, follow Me\" (Matt. xix. 21).\n\nThat seemed just right! But perhaps Our Lord had still another message.\nSo he shut the big book, and opened it again, just anywhere, and it\nsaid: \"Take nothing for your journey, neither staff, nor scrip, nor\nbread, nor money; neither have two coats\" (Luke ix. 3).\n\nSplendid! \"Just _one_ more, please, Lord,\" he said in his heart, as he\nopened the book for the third time. And Our Lord told him something very\nwonderful and hard to follow, which was really the explanation of all\nthe others:\n\n\"If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his\ncross, and follow Me\" (Matt. xvi. 24).\n\nSo the three friends left the church very happy. And Bernard sold all\nhis rich stuffs and his house and his land; and Peter sold all his\nprecious books; and they carried all the gold to a square in front of\nthe old church of St. George, and St. Francis sat on the steps with his\nlap full of money, and gave away great glittering handfuls to all the\npoor people who crowded round.\n\nWhen none was left, the three poor brothers, smiling with delight at\nbeing really poor and true followers of Christ, went off to the dear\nlittle chapel in the woods and began the life of the Friars.\n\nNot long after, a third recruit turned up, and I _must_ tell you about\nhim. He was a simple working-man called Giles. When he heard about St.\nFrancis and his two Friars, and of this new way of learning to serve God\nperfectly, he laid down his tools, and left the vineyards and tramped\ninto the town. He went to an early Mass at St. George's Church, hoping\nto find St. Francis there, as it was St. George's Day; but not doing\nso, he set out for the Portiuncola. He didn't know where that was, so\nwhen he came to the crossroads he stopped and began to ask God somehow\nto show him the way. And just then St. Francis came out of the wood.\nGiles was delighted that God answered his prayer so quickly, and,\nkneeling down at St. Francis's feet, \"Brother Francis,\" he said, \"I want\nto be with you for the love of God.\"\n\nSt. Francis saw at once that this was a true brother, so he said:\n\"Knowest thou how great a favour the Lord has given thee? If, my\nbrother, the Emperor came to Assisi and wished to choose one of the\ncitizens to be his knight or chamberlain, many are they who would come\nforward to claim the honour. How much more highly, then, shouldest thou\nesteem it to be chosen by the Lord from out of so many, and to be called\nto His Court!\"\n\nThen St. Francis took him back and showed him to Bernard and Peter, and\nsaid: \"See what a good brother the Lord hath sent us!\"\n\nSoon after this the four Friars set out, St. Francis and Brother Giles\ngoing together, and Bernard and Peter, to tramp the roads from place to\nplace, and preach to the little knots of country or town people who\ncollected round them in the market-places. So strange did they look, and\nso full of joy and love did they seem to be, that the people wondered at\nthem very much, and though some believed them to be servants of God,\nothers thought them mad.\n\nWhen they returned to the Portiuncola three more men joined them. It was\nthen that the townspeople began to get angry, and say that St. Francis\nwas turning rich men into _beggars_. Even the Bishop spoke seriously to\nhim. Now, if St. Francis had not been so _sure_ that what he was doing\nwas _God's plan_, and not his own, he might have got discouraged and\ngiven up trying to carry it out; but, relying on God's grace, he\nlistened humbly while people spoke angrily, or scoffed, or argued, or\npleaded, and then he bravely \"carried on.\"\n\nFor the first few months the brothers lived in their little hut at the\nPortiuncola, and prepared themselves (by prayer and the studying of the\nperfect way of life and the correction of their faults) for the great\nwork God held for them. Part of the day was spent serving the lepers and\ndoing simple work in the fields. One more journey they went, and then,\nfour more brethren having joined them, and St. Francis having had a\nwonderful vision which showed him that hundreds would soon be flocking\nto join his Order from France and Germany and England and all the\ncountries, he set out for Rome, to get the Pope's approval of his work.\nAt first the Pope would not listen to this poor, unknown beggar-man,\nfull of eager new ideas, but in the end he received him kindly and,\nafter hearing all he had to tell, said: \"My son, go and pray to Jesus\nChrist that He may show us His will; and when we know His will more\ncertainly, we shall the more safely sanction your pious purpose.\"\n\nSo the brethren all prayed hard.\n\nWhen St. Francis went again, the Pope was even more kind, for he\nrecognized St. Francis as the man he had seen in a dream. In his dream\nhe saw a church nearly falling and being held up by a small man in a\npoor habit, and he knew it meant the Church of Christ was in trouble,\nand that this man was going to make it strong again through all the\nearth.\n\nSo the Pope gave the Friars his blessing, saying: \"Go forth in the Lord,\nbrothers.\" And he gave them leave to preach penance, and told them to\ncome back to him later and he would do even more for them.\n\nSo the Friars went back to Assisi full of joy. For a time they lived in\na kind of wayside shelter called Rivo Torto; but later on the monks on\nwhose land was the Portiuncola gave the little chapel and the bit of\nland to St. Francis (or rather rented it to him, the payment being one\nbasket of fish per year, caught in the river--for St. Francis did not\nwish the Friars to _own_ anything).\n\nSome more men joined the brothers, and now they lived as a very happy\nfamily in their little huts, built of branches, around their beloved\nchapel. St. Francis was like the loving Father of this family, always\nkind, patient, cheery, ready to comfort the sad or nurse the sick, or\nexplain things to those who felt worried and did not understand how to\nget rid of their faults and serve Christ in perfect purity of heart. You\nCubs would have loved St. Francis, for he was just like a boy himself. I\nwish I had time to tell you all the lovely little stories about him and\nthe Friars at this time while his family was still small, but we must\nkeep them for another time, and go on now to the time when the Order had\ngrown so large that the Friars could no longer all live at the\nPortiuncola, and began to have their poor, simple houses all over the\nplace, while hundreds of brothers set forth, tramping the world over,\npreaching the Gospel of Christ, not only to the poor, but to the heathen\nin barbarous countries. Some of the brothers were cruelly martyred, and\nall had to suffer a lot of hardships, for often people would drive them\naway, so that they had to go hungry and cold, with nowhere to lay their\nheads for the night.\n\nWe cannot follow all the brothers and hear all their adventures, so I\nwill just tell you one or two which show what kind of men St. Francis\nand his Friars were. Here is one which shows you their obedience and\nhumility. I daresay it will make you laugh!\n\nThe Friars had by now become quite noted for their preaching, and would\noften go up into the pulpits of the churches, where large crowds\ngathered to hear them, the Bishop even inviting St. Francis to preach in\nthe cathedral. Now, among the brethren there was one called Ruffino, who\nwas very shy and nervous and felt he simply _couldn't_ preach and face a\ngreat crowd of people, all staring at him and waiting for his words.\nNow, St. Francis hated that any of his Friars should _give in to\nthemselves_ about _anything_. He also loved them to _obey quickly_, and\ndo everything they were told at once, without a murmur. So one day he\ntold Brother Ruffino to go to a big church in the city and preach. But\nBrother Ruffino, instead of obeying at once, begged St. Francis not to\ncommand him this, as he had not the gift of preaching. St. Francis was\nnot pleased at this, and he said that, as Brother Ruffino had not obeyed\nquickly, he must now take off his habit and go to the city and preach,\nclad only in his breeches, and otherwise naked! So Brother Ruffino\nstripped, and went off humble and obedient. But, of course, when he went\ninto the church and up into the pulpit dressed like that the men and\nchildren of Assisi began to laugh and say the Friars had gone mad.\nMeanwhile St. Francis presently began to be sorry he had sent off poor\nBrother Ruffino clad only in breeches, especially considering he had\nonce been one of the noblest men in Assisi. He began to call himself\nnames for having been so hard on him; and, saying he would do himself\nwhat he had told his poor brother to do, he stripped himself of his\nhabit and also set out, half naked, for the town! When he got to the\nchurch, of course everyone laughed all the more to see _another_ Friar\nin his breeches. Poor Brother Ruffino was in the pulpit struggling\nbravely to preach in simple words. Then St. Francis mounted the pulpit,\nand, standing by Brother Ruffino, preached a most wonderful sermon, so\nthat all the people of Assisi were touched to the heart, and many wept\nto think of their sins and of the Passion of Christ. Then St. Francis\ngave Brother Ruffino his habit and put on his own (for Brother Leo had\nbrought them to the church), and they returned home rejoicing.\n\nOnce when St. Francis was walking along the road he saw a great crowd of\nbirds in a field, and saying he _must_ go and preach to his \"little\nsisters, the birds,\" he went among them and preached a wonderful sermon\nto them, telling them how they ought to praise God for all he had given\nthem. And the birds didn't fly away, but all crowded round to listen. At\nthe end St. Francis gave them his blessing and told them to fly away,\nand they rose up in the air and flew away in the form of a great cross,\nto north, south, east, and west. St. Francis loved all animals, even\nearthworms, which he would pick up tenderly from the path and put into\nsafety. And he would never allow people to cut trees quite down, but\nmade them leave the roots, so that they might grow up all green and\nbeautiful once more. Little children he loved, too. Some day I will tell\nyou the story of a little boy who joined his Order and became a little\nFriar, and had the great joy of seeing St. Francis at prayer one night\nout on the mountain-side, with a wonderful gold light all round him, and\nheavenly visions comforting him. But the little boy had to promise St.\nFrancis he would never tell anyone what he had seen as long as St.\nFrancis was living.\n\nI must leave, too, the story of how St. Francis tamed a huge, fierce\nwolf; and of how he went right into the Saracen camp during a Crusade\nand preached to the Sultan of Turkey, and told him to be a Christian;\nand how he called a great gathering of the Friars at the Portiuncola, to\nwhich _five thousand brothers_ came, and how the people of the cities\nround came with carts full of food and fed the Friars for more than a\nweek's time, freely. All these stories and many more I must leave, and\ngo on now to tell you of the wonderful, beautiful, and holy end of St.\nFrancis's life, and of the mysterious thing that happened to him. I want\nyou to remember that this mysterious thing is _perfectly true_, and\nreally did happen to St. Francis, and is a sign of how very closely his\nsoul had become united to Jesus Christ and His Passion on the Cross--for\nhe had never forgotten the heavenly message he had found in the book of\nthe Gospels: \"He that will come after Me, let him deny himself, _and\ntake up his cross_, and follow Me.\"\n\nSt. Francis's Order was now established, and his Friars were renewing\nthe life of the Church by their wonderful preaching, their holy example,\nand their pure lives. St. Francis himself, though not really old at all,\nwas almost worn out. His life of hardships; his great worries (for his\nenormous family gave him much trouble as well as joy); his burning zeal\nand passionate love of God and his fellow-men--all this had nearly used\nup his strength, and now he was in constant pain, and very nearly blind.\nHe was always patient and happy--even merry, as of old. But at last came\na day when he felt he must go away and be alone a little with God. So,\ntaking a few chosen brothers with him, he retired to the top of a\nbeautiful mountain, called Mount Alverna, which belonged to a nobleman\nwho was a friend of St. Francis.\n\nOn this mountain, with only the sky and the rocks and the trees for\ncompany, with the lovely peaks of other mountains stretching away as far\nas eye could see, the six Friars made themselves a little camp of huts;\nbut St. Francis had his hut right away from the other Friars, and across\na little rocky ravine which was crossed by a plank. Here he could feel\n_quite alone_ with God. Looking up, there was just the blue, blue sky\nand the steady clouds; and looking down, there was a steep rock falling\naway below him to a great depth, with little ferns and flowers clinging\nto it. In this rocky solitude lived a falcon who became a very dear\nfriend of St. Francis, and for whom he had a great love. It knew the\ntime he liked to rise and pray in the night, and it would come and flap\nagainst his hut and wake him at the right time, and then stay near him\nwhile he prayed.\n\nThe Friars were not allowed to come near the spot; only Brother Leo came\nwith a little bread and water each day, and to join at midnight with\nSt. Francis in the Divine Office.\n\nAt times St. Francis was very happy, and the joy that fills the Blessed\nin heaven seemed to glow in his heart, so that he understood the secrets\nof God; and wonderful visions he had too. But sometimes he was filled\nwith sorrow and pain and temptation, for the Devil would torment him and\ntry in every way he could to separate the heart of St. Francis from God.\n\nOne day, after he had had a very wonderful vision, he went with Brother\nLeo to the little chapel the Friars had made, and, casting himself on\nthe ground before the Altar, he prayed to God to make known to him the\nmystery which He would teach him--for he felt there was some mysterious\nreason why God had made him come up this mountain and dwell apart. Then\nhe told Leo to open the book of the Gospels three times, and see what it\nsaid. And each place Leo opened on was about Christ's Passion.\n\nThen St. Francis felt quite sure that it was God's will that somehow he\nshould share his Lord's pain, and reach the kingdom of God through\nsuffering. And he longed very much for this, and also to have in his\nheart the love which made Christ so willing to suffer for men.\n\nIt was a few days after this that the strange and wonderful thing\nhappened. St. Francis was kneeling, absorbed in prayer, when suddenly a\nwonderful Form came towards him, and stood on a stone a little above\nhim. Bright and shining was the Form, with the most beautiful, beautiful\nface; and His arms were stretched out upon a cross, and feet joined\ntogether. And He had two great wings with which He flew, and two\nstretched up above His head, and two covered His body. And as St.\nFrancis gazed upon this crucified Seraph with the beautiful face full of\npain, a great throb of intense agony shot through his soul and his body,\nso that he had never felt such pain or sorrow before. And then the\nSeraph spoke to him as to a friend and revealed many mysteries. When He\nhad gone St. Francis rose from his knees and wondered what it could\nmean; and then he saw what it meant. For in his own hands and feet had\ncome the marks of the crucified Christ: his hands and his feet were\npierced right through with red wounds, and in the palms of the hands and\non the instep of his feet were the round black heads of the nails, and\ntheir points came out the other side, bent back. And in his side was a\nbig wound, as if made by a spear. And the pain of them all was very\ngreat. And St. Francis understood that he had been allowed by God to\nshare in Our Lord's Passion.\n\nAt first he said nothing to the Friars; but after a while he told them,\nbut he did not show them the wounds, but kept his hands hidden in his\nbig sleeves. Only to Leo did he show them, so that he might wash and\nbandage them because of the pain and the bleeding.\n\nThen, leaving the Friars on the holy mountain, St. Francis went down\nwith Leo; but he rode on a donkey, because of the nails in his feet.\n\nHe scarcely noticed the places he passed through or the people he saw,\nthough he did several wonderful miracles. And at last he came home to\nhis beloved Portiuncola.\n\nSt. Francis's body was almost worn out, and greatly weakened, too, by\nthe bleeding from his wounds, but his soul seemed full of new life and\njoy and energy. So, riding upon a donkey, he set out for a last journey\nthrough the country he had loved so much, and along the familiar roads\nhe had so often tramped. I cannot now tell you of all that happened on\nthis journey and of the miracles that St. Francis performed; but it was\na wonderful last journey, and already the people had begun to speak of\nhim as \"the Saint.\"\n\nBut towards the end of his journey St. Francis became so ill that he had\nto be carried in a litter; and so it was that at last he came back to\nthe little Portiuncola chapel to die. As you can imagine, he was not\nonly brave in the face of death, but gay and cheerful. Many Friars had\ngathered round their beloved Father, and he spoke comforting words to\nthem and blessed them; but he gave a very special blessing to Bernard,\nwho had been the first man to come and join him in those early days when\nhe was still alone. And he made the brothers sing, joyful and loud, the\nsong he had himself made up on his last journey, called \"The Canticle of\nBrother Sun\"--a beautiful song all about Brother Sun and Sister Moon,\nand the stars, and flowers, and birds, and grass, and Brother Wind, and\nhow they must all praise God Who made them. And when he knew he must\nvery soon die, he cried, \"Welcome, Sister Death!\" And he made them lay\nhim on the ground, without even his habit, and spread sackcloth over him\nand sprinkle ashes upon him, and read to him the story of Our Blessed\nLord's Passion and Death from the Gospel of St. John.\n\nAll was still, and outside in the twilight the larks had gathered, and\nwere soaring up into the evening sky, singing with all their hearts, as\nif rejoicing that in a few minutes the soul of their brother Francis\nwould be free to soar up with them, and away beyond even the reach of\ntheir swift wings, to the beautiful garden of God.\n\nAnd in the house all was of a sudden marvellously still. And the\nbrothers, bending down over the form on the floor, saw, through their\ntears, that their friend and father had gone. Only for themselves they\nwept, for they knew that St. Francis, beautiful and young and strong and\ngay once more, was already with his Friend and Master, the Lord Christ,\nWho with smile and outstretched hand would welcome him to his glorious\nreward. And the Divine Hand outstretched, and the hand of St. Francis,\nwould bear the same print of nails, and St. Francis would understand the\ngreat and wonderful thing that God had granted him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH DAY\n\n\nWhen Akela woke up she could hear the roar of the sea dashing up on the\nrocks. There was a regular gale blowing, and every now and then the wind\nbrought a lash of rain out of the grey sky. So she decided to let the\nCubs sleep as late as possible.\n\nIt was 8.30 before the first one woke up.\n\nArriving at the field, they found that Father and Mother and the two\norderlies had succeeded in getting the fire to burn (though the rain was\ncoming down pretty fast now), and hot porridge and tea were all ready.\nPrayers and breakfast both had to be in the store tent--a bit of a\nsquash, but everyone was as cheery as usual.\n\nAfter breakfast it cleared up--luckily, for a party of choirboys from\nPortsmouth were coming over for the day.\n\nThey arrived about 1.0, and were quite ready for dinner, after the\ntossing they had had on the boat. Dinner consisted of large beef and ham\nsandwiches, and \"spuds,\" and jam roly-poly. There was a real hurricane\nblowing; the beef and ham and bread got blown off the plates as the\norderlies handed it round!\n\nWhen everyone had eaten as much as they could hold, the Cubs collected\nin the lee of the tent for their rest, and the choirboys, not being\nCubs, thought it a suitable moment to go in the swings and hammocks.\n\nAfter that there was a cricket match, and then the Cubs and some of the\nchoirboys bathed.\n\nA big London scout, who had met the Cubs in the street and claimed\nbrotherhood, also spent the day in camp. No one knew his name, and he\nwas just called \"Kangaroo,\" because that was his patrol. When the\nchoirboys had gone, Kangaroo and the Cubs had a good rag.\n\nThat night in the Coach-house the big doors had to be shut, or the\ncandle would never have kept alight. You could hear the wind whipping up\nthe white horses all over the great black sea, and laughing to see the\nway they jumped up over the rocks.\n\nBut it was nice and cosy in the Coach-house. The Cubs had got out some\nextra blankets, and sat wrapped up in them like so many Indian chiefs.\n\n\"You promised to tell us St. Antony to-night,\" said Sam.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Akela; \"I know you will like the story of his life. Well, he\nwas one of St. Francis's Friars--the most famous one of all. But when\nyou have heard his story you will see that with the Saints it was\npossible for a man to be a 'wonder-worker,' as St. Antony was called,\nand yet think nothing of himself at all, and expect no one else to pay\nhim honour and respect. So much did St. Antony hate swank and love\nhumility that he let no one know what wonderful powers he had, until one\nday God made an adventure happen which showed everybody what he really\nwas.\"\n\n\"Tell us--tell us,\" said the Cubs.\n\nSo Akela squatted down in the middle of the listening Cubs, and began.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. ANTONY.\n\nTo understand the story of St. Antony you must picture yourselves in the\nbeautiful, sunny land of Portugal. Oranges and purple grapes and all\nkinds of lovely fruits ripen in the old gardens. Galleys full of rich\nmerchandise come sailing across the blue, blue sea and touch at the port\nof Lisbon. All along the banks of the River Tagus are the big houses of\nthe nobility. It is in one of these houses that there lives a boy called\nFernando.\n\nFernando is one of those boys who will always have a good time. He is\nvery clever and quick, handsome, and full of life. He gets on\nwonderfully well at school, and he has a fine time in the holidays, for\nhis people lead a gay life--feasts, sports, the chase, grand parties of\nevery sort. Fernando has the chance of seeing a good deal of life, for\nhe is the kind of boy the grown-ups are always ready to take out. He\ngets a lot of admiration, and he enjoys everything to the full.\n\nBut, do you know, when he is alone there is a certain idea that often\ncomes to him, and he sits on his window-sill and gazes away across the\npurple hills, and thinks and thinks and thinks. The idea is this: that,\nafter all, this pleasure and gaiety is not worth much; it's all rather\nselfish and greedy and stupid. There must be something more worth while\nin life. For one thing, there's _God_. How little we know of God! And\nyet there is a lot to be learnt and understood about Him if only there\nwas time and quiet and books, and not all this bustle of parties and\ngrand people. Surely God wants men to get to know Him, and not be so\nbusy pleasing themselves that they quite forget all about Him. Then,\nagain, how rotten it would be to die and feel you had _done_ nothing in\nlife but please yourself! After all, there's no end of things to be done\nto make the world a better, holier, wiser place. Fancy going out of the\nworld knowing you were leaving it no better than when you came--or\nperhaps a little worse. Surely a man must feel rather nervous about\ndying, and about the Judgment Day, when he knows he hasn't ever done\nanything useful or kind. Why should God give such men the reward of\nheaven? _Rewards_ are for people who have _worked hard_; and so is\n_rest_. And then, again, when God came to earth and lived among men, He\ndidn't just spend His time seeking for pleasures; in fact, He seemed\nnever to think of Himself at all, but always of other people. That\nthought held the boy Fernando more than all the others--the thought of\nChrist, Who could have made Himself a King if He had liked, spending His\ndays for others, preaching and doing miracles, and the whole long night\nout under the stars, under the whispering olive-trees talking to God.\n\nThese thoughts used to come to Fernando when he was quite a little chap,\nand he had a kind of idea that when he was a man he would give himself\nto God. But when he began to grow up a bit, and got about thirteen or\nfourteen, he found that if he didn't look out he would get so keen on\nthe life of pleasure that he would become like the gay young men about\nhim, and quite forget all about God. He began to see that if he meant to\nstick to his good ideas he must _do something_ about it before it was\ntoo late. So, after a very hard struggle, he promised God the whole of\nhimself, with all his love and all the keen, strong desire within him to\ndo great things. He knew it would mean giving up all the pleasures that\nfilled his life, and all the riches and glory that would some day be\nhis. But somehow nothing mattered so long as he obeyed this sense that\nGod was calling.\n\nOf course, his people told him he was a young fool, and did all they\ncould to stop him; but he stuck to his idea, and at the age of fifteen\nhe was admitted to a monastery of Canons, just outside the city, and\nexchanged his rich clothes for the white habit.\n\nIt was a beautiful monastery, full of holy men and hundreds of wonderful\nbooks, and in the quiet and peace young Fernando was very happy. He felt\nhe had really got near to God. He worked so hard at his studies that by\nthe time he had become a young man he was admired by all the Canons, who\nthought him very clever and gifted, and told each other that some day he\nwould be a famous scholar and do great things. Fernando himself felt\nthat God had given him the gift of preaching; and that if he went out\nand preached he would be able to attract great crowds to listen, and win\nsouls for God; so he worked and worked to learn all he could, so as to\nbe ready to stand up and defend the Christian Faith against heretics.\n\nFernando had gone to another great monastery at Coimbra, and had been\nthere eight years, when something happened which was the beginning of a\ngreat change in his life--the beginning of a great adventure.\n\nOne day five dusty wayfarers tramped into the town and stopped at the\nlittle house of the Franciscans, not far from the monastery of the White\nCanons. The five strangers were really five heroes, for they were five\nof St. Francis's Friars, bound on a quest so thrilling and so dangerous\nthat they felt quite sure they would never come back. They were going to\nMorocco, in Africa, to preach to the heathen, and with shining eyes they\nspoke of dying there, for the love of Christ, and winning the martyr's\ncrown! Full of joy they went on their way; but without knowing it they\nhad set on fire the heart of the young Canon, Fernando. In the quiet of\nhis peaceful monastery he could think of nothing but Africa, the\nheathen, the chance of sharing Christ's suffering, and dying for His\nsake. It was really the Holy Spirit Who was stirring up those thoughts\nin Fernando's heart.\n\nWell, some months later news came that the five brave Friars had been\nput to a most horrible death by the Saracens. They were first scourged\ntill the whiplashes had almost cut their bodies to pieces. Boiling oil\nand vinegar was then poured over them, and they were rolled on the\nground, over fragments of broken glass and pottery. They were then\npromised their lives if they would give up Christ; but as, of course,\nthey wouldn't, they were beheaded. These were the first martyrs of St.\nFrancis's Order.\n\nCan you imagine what Fernando felt when one day a solemn procession\nstopped outside the church of his own monastery, and the coffins\ncontaining the bodies of the martyrs were laid within it for a while on\ntheir way to Spain?\n\nFernando now felt more sure than ever that God was calling him to be a\npoor Friar, and to set out barefoot for some hot, dusty land away\nbeyond the seas, where cruel hands would torture him to death. Once\nagain he offered himself to God, but this time it took an even harder\nstruggle than it had before, for he loved his quiet life of prayer and\nstudy in the beautiful monastery even more than he had loved the gay\nlife of his boyhood. Still, he did not _give in to himself_.\n\nNext time the poor Friars came, in their old, patched habits, to beg at\nthe rich monastery, can you imagine their surprise when one of the most\nlearned and famous young Canons came out to them, in his stately white\nhabit, his beautiful face lighted up with a great resolve, and asked\nthem if they would give him a brown habit, and make him a Friar, and\nsend him to the Saracen country to win a martyr's crown?\n\nOf course, they were delighted, and promised to bring him a habit the\nvery next day.\n\nFernando had a hard job to persuade the Canons to let him go. But at\nlast they did; and once more he turned his back on a happy home and set\nout on an unknown adventure. As he left the monastery, one of the\nCanons, a great friend of his, called after him: \"Go--go! You will\ndoubtless become a Saint!\" And Fernando called back to him: \"When you\nhear that I am a Saint give glory to God!\" for he knew very well that it\nis only God Who can make a man into a Saint, and that the man's own\nefforts can never do it.\n\nIt must have been a great change for Fernando to find himself in the\npoor little huts belonging to the Friars, and obliged to go barefoot,\ndressed in a rough habit and cord, with only scraps of food to eat,\nbegged from the houses of the rich. These Friars were only poor,\nignorant men--very holy, but with no learning or refinement. They did\nnot know Fernando was a very clever man, a scholar. Of course, he did\nnot tell them, but humbly took his place as the newest and least\nimportant of the brothers, never letting them see that he missed the\nwonderful library, or the beautiful music of the monastery, or the quiet\ncell where he had been able to pray and work in peace. So as to start\nlife quite fresh, he even gave up his noble name, Fernando, and took the\nname of \"Antony.\" So now we will begin to call him St. Antony.\n\n[Illustration: S. FRANCIS RECEIVES THE MARKS OF THE PASSION.\n\n_See page 81._]\n\nOf course, the one thing he kept thinking about was the quest of the\nmartyr's crown, and at last he got his Superiors to send him, with one\ncompanion, to the Saracen country. But now came the greatest\ndisappointment of his life, for no sooner had he got there than he fell\nill. All the winter he lay between life and death, with a terrible\nfever, so ill that he could do nothing. He knew that he was now so weak\nthat he would never be able to go and preach to the Saracens and be\nmartyred. He would have to go home again, a failure. This was much\nharder to him than any danger or suffering, and the way he bore it,\ncheerfully and patiently for the love of Christ, made him much more\npleasing to God than anything else. For God loves humble people, who are\nwilling to do His Will, instead of choosing for themselves.\n\nSeeing that God wanted his life rather than his death, St. Antony\ndecided to go back to his own country and become as strong and well as\npossible. So he set sail. But when God sees that a man has altogether\ngiven up his own will, He takes full control of his journey through\nlife, and makes things happen to show the man what to do. In this case\nGod made St. Antony's ship get driven ashore on the island of Sicily.\nHere there happened to be a small house belonging to the Franciscans. It\nwas while St. Antony was resting there that he heard that there was\ngoing to be a great chapter (or general meeting) of the Friars, at\nAssisi, and that St. Francis would be there; so he asked leave to go,\nand then set forth. This was to be the beginning of a new adventure.\n\nWhen he got to Assisi he found two thousand Friars collected there for\nthe chapter. The country people were providing all their food free.\n\nYou can imagine what St. Antony felt when he saw St. Francis! But when\nSt. Francis called for volunteers to go on a dangerous mission to the\nfierce Germans, it must have cost him an awful lot to keep quiet. But he\nhad learnt his lesson--God did not want of him a glorious death, only a\npatient life.\n\nWhen the chapter came to an end all the Friars dispersed, some going\ngladly off on their dangerous quests, others collecting in little bands\nunder their \"ministers,\" as the head ones were called, and starting to\ntramp back to their friaries.\n\nBut St. Antony stood all alone. He had no brave quest to follow; no\nminister looked for him to go home with a party of cheerful Friars; no\none cared what became of the young Portuguese stranger.\n\nSo St. Antony asked one of the ministers to take him and \"form him in\nthe practice of religious discipline.\" The minister little knew the\nwonderful gifts of this pale young stranger, with the beautiful, sad\nface, and sent him to a humble friary on the top of a steep, rocky\nmountain. There were only a few simple Friars there. One of them had\nhewed out a little cave in the rock. This he gave to St. Antony, who\nmade it his cell. There he spent most of his day in prayer. But one job\nhe specially made his own. What do you think it was? Why, washing up the\nplates and greasy dishes.\n\nHe didn't tell the Friars anything about himself, and of course they\nnever guessed that their new brother, who always chose the meanest jobs,\nwas a nobleman's son and a famous scholar of one of the greatest\nmonasteries in Portugal.\n\nFor a whole year St. Antony lived like this. Do you think he wished\nhimself back in the beautiful monastery in Portugal, with his books and\nhis clever, interesting friends? No; for he loved what was God's Will\nfor him above all things. People should not pine for the past, nor be\nimpatient for the future; they should live heart and soul in the\npresent, because the present is always what has just been provided by\nGod, and so it is the best possible thing.\n\nBut God meant His faithful servant to be made known, and I will tell\nyou, now, the wonderful way in which He made it happen.\n\nIn the town, not far from St. Antony's little friary, there was one day\na meeting of Franciscan and Dominican Friars for an important ceremony.\nAfter the service the Superior asked the Dominicans, who were clever men\nand good preachers, to preach a sermon. But they all said they were not\nprepared; and so did the Franciscans. So the Superior turned to St.\nAntony, who had come as a companion of his Minister, and ordered him to\npreach. St. Antony tried to get out of it, but, finding he must obey, he\nwalked slowly up into the pulpit.\n\nThe Friars did not expect much of a sermon. This was only poor Brother\nAntony, whose chief job was washing dishes.\n\nSt. Antony, ready to _do his best_ for God, did not think of himself a\nbit. He just turned over in his mind what would be the best thing to\npreach on so as to help his brothers and bring honour and glory to his\nGod. By the time he was in the pulpit the Holy Spirit had put a text\ninto his mind. He gave it out in his clear, ringing voice: \"For us\nChrist became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.\" Then he\nbegan to preach.\n\nThe Friars sat up and stared. The young, unknown Friar was pouring forth\na wonderful flood of eloquence, full of the deepest thought, and showing\nsuch learning as none of them possessed. Only a scholar could preach\nlike that; and only a scholar who was full of the fire of the Holy Ghost\ncould move the hearts of his hearers as this man did!\n\nThe Friars and their Superiors sat spellbound. They quite forgot the\npreacher, and were carried away by his words into a greater love of God.\nWhen at last he ceased, and walked quietly down from the pulpit, his\neyes on the ground, deep humility in his heart, his hearers turned to\neach other in wonder and delight, and all said they had never heard such\na preacher in their lives.\n\nOf course, the Superiors hurried off and told St. Francis all about it,\nand you can imagine how delighted St. Francis was to hear he had such a\nwonderful man among his Friars. It ended in St. Francis sending St.\nAntony to do what many years ago he had longed to do--that is, preach to\nthe heretics who were teaching wrong things about the Christian Faith.\n\nStill as humble as ever, St. Antony set out to tramp along the roads to\nthe places at which he was to preach. Through Italy he went, and then\nFrance, and then Spain, and back to Italy, and on these journeys the\nmost wonderful things happened. Not only did God give him the power of\npreaching such marvellous sermons that the people crowded in thousands\nto hear him, but He gave him the power to do miracles, like He once gave\nto His Apostles. As to the heretics, they simply couldn't stand up\nagainst St. Antony, and thousands of them either had to stop their false\nteaching and keep quiet, or else were converted and came over to St.\nAntony's side. Because of this he got the name, \"Hammer of Heretics.\"\n\nBut it wasn't only to the heretics he preached. The ordinary people used\nto come in such crowds that there simply wasn't room in the churches for\nthem, and St. Antony had to preach out in the fields and plains. Rich\nand poor used to come, clergy and ignorant peasants. The shopkeepers\nused to shut up their shops. The people were so much moved by his\nsermons that enemies forgave each other, men paid their debts, or\ncreditors forgave their debtors; wicked people gave up their sinful\nlife, and started trying to _do their best_ to become pleasing to God.\n\nOne day a band of twelve brigands who lived in the forest and robbed\npassers-by heard about the famous preacher. So they disguised\nthemselves, and went to see if what was said of him was true. When he\nbegan to preach he completely won their hearts, and they repented of\ntheir sinful life. After the sermon they spoke to St. Antony, and\nconfessed what wicked men they had been. He told them they must never go\nback to their robber life, and he said that those who gave it up would\ngo some day to heaven, but that if any went back to it they would have\nmiserable ends. And, sure enough, some who went back soon died horrible\ndeaths. St. Antony told them to try and do something to make up for\nhaving been so wicked. One of them, he said, was to go twelve times in\npilgrimage to the tomb of St. Peter and St. Paul at Rome. Years and\nyears after, when this robber was an old, old man, he met a Friar on the\nroad, and he told him how when he was young he had heard St. Antony\npreach, and how he had told him to go to Rome twelve times. \"And now I\nam on my way back from Rome for the twelfth time,\" he said. That shows\nyou what power St. Antony had.\n\nThere's no time now to tell you of all the miracles he did; but they\nwere so wonderful that he came to be called the \"Wonder-worker,\" and it\nshowed everyone that God was with him.\n\nAnd do you think all this honour and glory, and big crowds running after\nhim, and great men praising him, made St. Antony proud or even the least\nbit pleased with himself? No; he stayed just as humble and retiring as\nhe was in the days when he used to wash dishes in the mountain friary.\n\nBut St. Antony's hard life was beginning to tell on his health. For a\nlong time he had secretly suffered from a very painful disease. It was\nnow about nine years since the day he preached his first sermon and was\nsent forth by St. Francis on his great mission. As the summer drew on\nSt. Antony ceased to preach, so as not to hinder the people's work in\nthe vineyards. Also, he knew the end of his life was near. He longed for\na little peace and solitude and silence; he longed to be alone with God\nto prepare for his great journey into the next world.\n\nThere was a nobleman called Count Tiso, who had a beautiful estate not\nfar from Padua, a city St. Antony loved very much. Here St. Antony went\nfor a time of rest. There was no rocky hill-side to make a cave which he\nmight use as his cell, so he got Count Tiso to make him a cell in the\ngreat branches of a walnut-tree. These branches spread out not far above\nthe ground, and between them Count Tiso wove reeds and willow twigs, and\nmade a lovely little house for St. Antony. The thick, leafy branches\nabove sheltered him from the hot sun; a few rough steps led up to it;\nand here St. Antony could spend his days in complete solitude.\n\nBut one evening when he had come down to have his evening meal with his\ncompanions, in the little friary near by, he was taken very ill, and his\npain was so great that he could no longer sit upright.\n\nHe knew he was soon to die, and he longed to die at his beloved city,\nPadua. He was really much too ill to be moved, but when his companions\nsaw how much he wanted this, they fetched a rough ox-cart and laid St.\nAntony in it.\n\nI told you how St. Antony had longed to share Christ's sufferings and\ndie a martyr's death--well, now was his chance. He was in such frightful\npain that any tiny movement hurt him, and now he had to go mile after\nmile in a rough cart with no springs, jolting over the stony roads, the\nbroiling Italian sun beating down upon him, the thick white dust choking\nhis parched throat, the flies tormenting him. You can't imagine the\nagony he must have suffered. And yet he never grumbled--he was _glad_ of\nthis chance of suffering; he felt he was really taking up his cross and\nfollowing his beloved Master along the painful way to Calvary.\n\nWhen the cart had nearly reached Padua, a Friar who had been sent to\ninquire after St. Antony met the little procession. He saw at once that\nSt. Antony would not live to reach the city, so he made the Friars lift\nhim from the cart and carry him to a little house of the Friars near by.\nIt had been St. Antony's last great wish to die at Padua; but even this\nhe gave up patiently and gladly and without a murmur.\n\nIn the little cell he lay, his pain getting worse and worse, and his\nweakness greater and greater. The Friars gave him the last rites of\nreligion. \"Then, raising his eyes,\" the old book says, \"he looked\nfixedly on high. As he continued to gaze steadfastly towards heaven, the\nFriars asked him what he saw. He answered: 'I see my Lord.'\"\n\nNot long after, like one falling quietly asleep, he breathed out his\nlast breath. \"His loving, holy soul quitted the body, and, conducted by\nthe good Jesus, entered into the joy of his Lord.\"\n\nThe little cell where St. Antony died still stands, and people can go in\nand look on the very walls his eyes looked on, the very floor on which\nhis body lay. It is such a holy spot that a church has been built over\nit, and the little square cell stands inside the church.\n\nThat is the story of one of the holiest and humblest men who ever lived.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nVery quietly the Cubs lay down on their palliasses, and fell asleep\nthinking of their new friend, St. Antony.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTH DAY\n\n\nA pouring day! Luckily the Cubs remained in the sunny land of dreams\ntill eight.\n\nMeals had to be in the bell-tent. This was great fun! There was just\nroom for a council circle, only you had to be careful not to put your\nfeet in other people's porridge, or let your head rub against the tent.\nIf you did, a stream of water soon began to run down your neck, and\nAkela said it _served you right_.\n\nEvery now and then the rain _nearly_ stopped, and everybody dashed out\nfor a few minutes; but no sooner were you out, than the weather-fairy\nseemed to say, \"Yah! Sold again!\" and down came another sheet of rain\nthat sent everyone scuttling for shelter.\n\nThe Cubs decided that it would be a good day to have a concert, and that\nthere might be a rehearsal in the morning and the grand performance\nlater on. So they sat round and made a lovely row; and some people sang\nsome very pretty solos--but I will tell you about them when I tell you\nabout the grand performance.\n\nIt cleared up for a little while before dinner, and the Cubs went out\nfor a search for dry wood. Some of them went down to the shore, and\nthere they found some boys with donkeys and ponies for hire, so they had\nsome lovely rides up and down the sand, and no one fell off. Just as\nthey got home the rain started again in torrents.\n\nIn the tent they found two visitors--old friends who had once known them\nin London. This made them think how lucky it was they had had a\nrehearsal, for now they would be able to give the visitors a concert,\nand then they would not be disappointed because of the rain. So after\ndinner the concert began.\n\nFirst the whole Pack shouted the camp chorus--the same one which I told\nyou they sang in the train. They then sang \"John Peel.\" Then Bunny sang\na solo called \"Hush thee, my Baby.\" This was followed by a very pretty\nduet by Patsy and Mac--\"'Tis the Last Rose of Summer\" (Mac sang the alto\nvery well). Then the whole Pack sang a song called \"Robin Hood,\" which\nAkela had once made up for them. After that Bunny recited Brutus' speech\nfrom Shakespeare's play, \"Julius Caesar\"--he made you feel he really\n_was_ Brutus, and everyone clapped him. Then four Cubs sang \"Annie\nLaurie,\" in parts. Then they all made Spongey sing a song. Spongey was\nvery shy, and said he couldn't. But in the end he sang a very short\nsong, in a very deep voice, called, \"Oh-oh-oh, it's a Loverly War.\" Of\ncourse, everyone cheered themselves hoarse.\n\nThen the Pack sang \"The Golden Vanity\" right through all its many\nverses. This was followed by a solo from Mac--a sad little Irish\nsong--and another duet by Mac and Patsy, \"When Irish Eyes are Smiling,\"\nfollowed by \"Oh Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast,\" sung in parts by Jack,\nPatsy, and Mac. Then everyone sang choruses.\n\nThe visitors enjoyed it very much.\n\nBy the end of the programme it was quite impossible for the Cubs to sit\nstill for another moment. You can't get much exercise in a wet\nbell-tent. So Akela had a bright idea. If you were _in_ the sea the rain\ncouldn't wet you--what about a bathe? Everyone cheered, and got into\ntheir coats and macs, and ran down to the Stable, where they changed\ninto their bathing things. The sea felt awfully warm, and everyone\nshrieked and splashed and made such a row that the visitors, all shut up\nstuffy and cross in their lodgings, looked out of their windows and\nwondered who _could_ be so cheerful on such a day.\n\nComing back to tea, the Cubs were delighted to find their Scoutmaster\nsitting on the floor of the bell-tent, a large bun in one hand and a mug\nof tea in the other. He had tramped all the way over from Quarr to see\nhow far the whole camp had been drowned. In case there were any\nsurvivors, he brought two enormous bags of sweets.\n\nThat night all the Cubs prayed very hard for a real, proper, hot day for\ntheir last in camp. It certainly did not look possible. But Spongey put\nthe matter in a nutshell when he stood in his long night-shirt, one eye\nshut as usual, and remarked: \"I think it'll sunshine to-morrer, 'cos\nI've prayed very hard it will.\"\n\nThe Cubs had turned in early, to get out of the wet world into their\ndry, cosy beds. There was plenty of time for a good long story, and they\nsettled down with wriggles of satisfaction and waited for Akela to\nbegin.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. PATRICK.\n\nNearly four hundred years after Our Lord had gone up to heaven, and left\nHis disciples and their followers to carry on, a boy was born who was\ndestined to be one of God's greatest Saints, and to bring thousands and\nthousands of pagans into the Christian Faith. This boy was St. Patrick,\ncalled the Apostle of Ireland, because he turned the whole of Ireland\nChristian. For many hundreds of years after St. Patrick had died,\nIreland was like a fruitful garden in which sprang up hundreds of Saints\nand holy and learned men, who helped to spread the knowledge and love of\nChrist all over the world. So St. Patrick was truly an Apostle, and,\nlike St. John and St. Andrew and the others, one of the\nfoundation-stones of Christ's great Church.\n\nBut though he _ended_ in being so very important, and doing things that\nmade a great difference to the whole world, he _began_ as an ordinary\nboy--and rather a naughty one, as he tells us himself. We know a great\ndeal about St. Patrick, and we know it is quite true, because when he\nwas over one hundred years old he wrote it all down himself. He called\nthe book his \"Confession,\" and though he told us such a lot about\nhimself, beginning with the adventures of his boyhood, there is one\nthing he did not put down in the book. Can you guess what? Well, he did\nnot put down how good he was. For, you see, the Saints never thought\nthemselves good, because, instead of comparing themselves with people\n_less good than themselves_, as we are all so fond of doing, they kept\non comparing themselves with Our Blessed Lord, and of course, that made\nthem seem very, very far from perfect.\n\nWhen St. Patrick was a boy he did not love God or believe all his\nChristian teachers told him, nor was he obedient or ready to _do his\nbest_. One day some fierce pirates raided the land where he lived with\nhis father and mother, and carried him off captive with lots of other\nboys. Sailing across the sea to Ireland, the pirates sold the boys as\nslaves.\n\nSt. Patrick was bought by a great chief called Milcho, and sent out on\nto the hill-sides to watch the sheep. Do you think he was lonely and\nafraid? No. For, when torn away from his home, from the friends who\nloved him, he had discovered that there is one Friend that you can't be\ndragged away from, and Who can be with you even in the midst of the\ntossing green sea, on a pirate ship. For, though Patrick had forgotten\nGod, God had not forgotten Patrick. \"The Lord,\" he says, \"showed me my\nunbelief, and had pity on my youth and ignorance.\"\n\nSo when he trudged out on to the mountain-side, he was not sad and\nalone, but glad in the knowledge that his unseen Friend was with him.\n\n          \"Christ with me, Christ before me,\n           Christ behind me, Christ in me,\n           Christ above me, Christ beneath me,\n           Christ in the chariot, Christ in the fort, Christ in the ship.\"\n\nThat is a prayer St. Patrick made up himself. There, on the rough\nmountain-side, the boy St. Patrick spent all his lonely days talking to\nGod, so that, he says, \"more and more the love of God and His faith and\nfear grew in me, and my spirit was stirred.\" He tells us that he would\nrecite one hundred prayers in one day, and nearly as many in the night.\n\nHe had to sleep out with the sheep in some rough cave or hut. \"Before\nthe dawn,\" he says, \"I was called to pray by the snow, the ice, and the\nrain.\" But he did not mind this outward cold, because of the burning\nheart within him.\n\nSt. Patrick had learnt his lesson--the lesson of where to find the only\ncomfort and friendship and help worth having. God wanted him, now, for\nthe great work he was to do. One night a mysterious voice told him that\nif he went to a certain place he would find a ship ready to take him\nhome. The place was about two hundred miles away, and St. Patrick had\nnever been there. However, trusting in God's help, he started off. At\nlast, after a long tramp, he reached the town, and, sure enough, there\nwas a ship at the quay about to set sail. St. Patrick asked to be taken\non board, but when the sailors heard he had no money they refused him a\npassage. St. Patrick went sadly away, but as he went he prayed. Before\nlong he heard someone coming after him. Turning round, he found it was\none of the sailors, who said after all they would take him.\n\nI can't tell you now of the adventures St. Patrick had on his way home,\nbut after being shipwrecked and nearly starved, and each time\nwonderfully saved by God, he reached his father's house. But though he\nwas home again with those he loved, he did not forget the Friend Who had\nbeen his all in those cold, hard days in Ireland. He thought of Him all\nday, and of how best to please Him. He had already begun studying for a\nlife in God's service, when he had a wonderful vision of the people of\nIreland calling him to come to their help, and he knew it was a sign\nfrom God that this was the work he was to do. You can imagine how\nimpatient he must have been to get a ship and go sailing back to Ireland\nto tell the people about the true God, and how Christ had died on the\nCross for them, and all the rest; but for such a difficult and dangerous\njob he needed a lot of training--not only in learning, but in the\nstrength and holiness and obedience to God which should make him able to\nface the task before him. How long do you think God kept him at his\ntraining? Thirty-eight years!\n\nAt the end of this time a holy man who was his friend and guide was sent\nto preach in Britain. St. Patrick went with him. This was the first\nstep, and it ended in his being made a Bishop and sent--at last--to the\nlifework he had so long waited for, the conversion of Ireland.\n\nWhen St. Patrick's ship came to shore, the wild men of Leinster would\nnot let him land. So, trusting as usual to God, he sailed out again to\nsea, and landed a little farther to the south. There seemed to be nobody\nabout, to stop him; and, tired out, I suppose, with a day of exploring\nin the strange land, St. Patrick lay down and fell asleep. A little\nIrish boy chanced to come along, and, seeing a stranger asleep, crept up\non tip-toe to look at him. What a lovely, kind face he had! The boy\nthought to himself that he had never before seen anybody who looked so\nnice, and he longed to do him some good turn. He couldn't think of\nanything to do for someone who was asleep, but at last he got an idea.\nPicking all the best flowers he could find, he put them round St.\nPatrick for a surprise for him.\n\nWhen St. Patrick woke up you can imagine how pleased he was with the\nflowers, and still more pleased to see a little Irish boy smiling at him\nshyly from among the bushes. Before long St. Patrick and the boy had\nbecome great friends, and the boy simply wouldn't go away, but stuck to\nSt. Patrick. Then God made known a secret of the future to St. Patrick,\nand he said: \"Some day he will be the heir to my kingdom.\" And, sure\nenough, the boy, whose name was Benignus, succeeded St. Patrick as\nBishop of Armagh. Don't you wish you were that boy, always to stay with\nSt. Patrick?\n\nAfter this the most wonderful adventures began to befall St. Patrick;\nbut even more wonderful than the adventures were the miracles by which\nhe managed to escape out of them, not only alive, but victorious.\n\nGetting into his ship again, St. Patrick landed farther north. Once more\nthe fierce Irish set on him and his little band, and their chief, Dichu,\nraised his sword to bring it crashing down on St. Patrick's head. But,\nsomehow, his arm stayed stiff in mid-air, and he could not strike the\nblow. Dichu was an honest man, and soon understood that such a miracle\nmust be a sign from the true God. If once you believe in God--well, the\nonly possible thing is to serve Him. So Dichu became a Christian, and\nhumbly learned from St. Patrick how he should serve God.\n\nThen St. Patrick went to the house of the very chief who had kept him as\na slave, and converted his children to the true Faith. But it was at\nEaster that something very thrilling happened, and was the beginning of\nSt. Patrick's real triumphs.\n\nThe Chief-King of Erin (as Ireland was called) was just going to hold\nhis solemn festival at Tara. All the Irish princes and all the priests\nof the pagan religion had collected together. One of their ceremonies\nwas the lighting of fire at dawn, with magic rites and ceremonies. It\nhappened to be Holy Saturday, and on that day the Christians used to\nlight a beacon. St. Patrick lit his holy fire, as usual. The King saw it\nblazing on a hill-top, and was very angry. One of his priests (or\nDruids, as they were called) said: \"If that fire is not put out before\nmorning, it never will be put out,\" and he meant the Christian Faith. So\nthe King sent for St. Patrick.\n\nSurrounded by his Druids and bards, and all the Irish princes, the King\nsat, fierce and proud, and awaited the strangers. It was Easter morning,\nso, as St. Patrick and his little band advanced, they chanted the Easter\nlitanies. So noble and holy did St. Patrick look that one of the bards\nrose as he drew near. This little act of politeness on the part of the\nbard brought him special grace from heaven, and he accepted the\nChristian Faith.\n\nStanding quietly in the midst of the circle of priests and princes, St.\nPatrick looked around him. He met countless pairs of fierce eyes fixed\nupon him, as the princes sat in silence, \"with the rims of their shields\nagainst their chins\"; and as he looked at them he longed to win them all\nfor God, and he prayed for grace and power to do what was needed. Then\nhe told them why he had come to Ireland.\n\nThe King left his Druids to reply. They did so by doing all sorts of\nhorrible magic. And certainly they made things happen, much as people\ncalled \"spiritists\" do nowadays; but it was not by God's power, so it\nmust have been the Devil who helped them. Whatever the Druids did, St.\nPatrick undid, and then did something more wonderful. The Druids were\nfurious, and no one knows what might have happened had not St. Patrick\ncaused an earthquake to happen, by God's power. So terrified were the\nIrish that they went half mad and began killing each other, and St.\nPatrick and his men escaped.\n\nBut the next day St. Patrick boldly came back, though he knew the King\nmeant to kill him. He was given a cup of poisoned wine to drink. Well,\nwhat of that? Did not Our Lord say to His disciples, when He sent them\nout to convert the world, \"If you drink any deadly thing it shall not\nhurt you\"? St. Patrick made the sign of the cross over the cup and\ndrank it, and nothing happened.\n\nThen the Druids arranged a horrible test. They laid two great fires, one\nof dry faggots and the other of wet, green wood. On the dry wood they\nlaid the boy Benignus, dressed in a Druid's white robe. On the green\nthey put a Druid, clad in St. Patrick's cloak. Then they said they would\nset fire to both piles. St. Patrick accepted the challenge. (If you had\nbeen the boy, would you have \"got the wind up,\" do you think, or would\nyou have trusted St. Patrick?)\n\nWell, they set fire to the two piles of wood. Strange to say, the green\nwood blazed up, with many sizzlings and cracklings and much smoke, but\nthe dry wood simply wouldn't light. There was, however, a sudden flame,\nand the Druid's robe on the boy flared up and was soon burnt to ashes,\nleaving Benignus quite all right, and, I expect, very pleased with\nhimself! Meanwhile, horrible noises had been coming from the other pile,\nand when the smoke and flames died down there were only charred cinders\nwhere there had once been a Druid. But St. Patrick's cloak had not been\nburnt at all.\n\nAs the King still would not believe, St. Patrick had to make another\nearthquake happen, which swallowed up so many of the King's subjects\nthat he gave in, and said St. Patrick might preach, though he himself\nnever accepted the Faith.\n\nSo, on the green plains of Tara, St. Patrick preached a wonderful sermon\nto the Irish, who by this time had come crowding round to see the\nstranger who could beat the Druids at their own game. During this sermon\nSt. Patrick stooped down and picked a leaf of shamrock, and, holding it\nup, showed the people how the little green leaf was _three_ and yet\n_one_. He said that would help them to understand how the Blessed\nTrinity is three--God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy\nGhost--and yet is really only _one God_. That is why the Irish wear\nshamrock on St. Patrick's Day (March 17th).\n\n[Illustration: S. PATRICK AND THE LITTLE BOY BENIGNUS.\n\n_See page 101._]\n\nMany more miracles did St. Patrick which I can't tell you about now; and\nhe went from place to place, winning thousands of men for Christ, and\ngiving spiritual life to their souls by baptizing them.\n\nOne Shrove Tuesday St. Patrick went up on to the top of a lonely, rugged\nmountain above the sea, and there he stayed without any food all through\nLent till Easter. And all the time he prayed and prayed and prayed for\nthe men of Ireland and their fate on the Judgment Day. At the end of his\nlong and painful time of prayer God sent an angel to tell him his\nrequest was granted. So, with his heart full of joy, St. Patrick knelt\nand blessed Ireland, and as he gave his blessing hundreds of poisonous\nsnakes came out of their holes and went slithering away into the sea,\nwhere they were all drowned. (That is why you see pictures of St.\nPatrick with snakes.) And now, every year, thousands of Irish people go\non pilgrimage up that mountain.\n\nBefore I end I must just tell you one little story about a young Irish\nPrince who _didn't give in to himself_. This Prince and his followers,\nafter hearing St. Patrick preach, decided to become followers of Christ\nand be baptized. St. Patrick, being a Bishop, carried a thing called a\ncrozier--a kind of long staff, like a shepherd's crook, because _Bishop_\nmeans _shepherd_. St. Patrick's crozier had rather a sharp point at the\nend, and during the ceremony of Baptism, somehow, by accident, he\npierced the Prince's bare foot with it, but did not notice what he had\ndone. The Prince said nothing, and did not wince or seem surprised.\nAfterwards, when St. Patrick found out what he had done, and asked the\nPrince why he had said nothing, the Prince replied: \"I thought it was\nthe rule of faith.\" A bit of poetry has been written about it, which\nputs it rather nicely. The Prince says, in it:\n\n          \"I thought, thus called to follow Him Whose Feet\n           Were pierced with nails, haply the blissful rite\n           Some little pain included.\"\n\nEverywhere St. Patrick went he was loved, and soon the fame of him had\nspread through the whole country. The superstitious religion of the\nDruids altogether died down, and Ireland became a Christian country. St.\nPatrick made a set of wise laws, and by these the Irish were governed\nfor a thousand years.\n\nAt last came the time when his great work was finished. The little boy,\nBenignus, had grown up and taken over St. Patrick's work. St. Patrick\nhad written his \"Confession.\" And now, at one hundred and twenty, he was\nquite ready for the rest and the reward of heaven. He was very happy;\nhis great work had been accomplished. God had been very good to him. And\nso, satisfied, he lay down to die, knowing that all the men of Ireland\nwere praying for their beloved father.\n\nSo, on March 17th, in the year 493, St. Patrick passed from this world\ninto the glory of Heaven.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NINTH DAY\n\n\nAs the Cubs one by one opened their eyes on the last day at camp, the\nfirst thing they saw was that their prayers of last night had been\nfully, _wonderfully_ answered. The sun shone with that clear golden\nradiance of early morning sun. The sky was a misty blue, with just a few\nsmall \"flocks of sheep.\" The wind had dropped, and the world, washed\nclean by the rain, was going to enjoy itself to-day.\n\nQuickly the Cubs washed themselves and scrambled into their old clothes,\nand were away up to the field in record time. The smell of wood smoke;\nthe cry of the sea-gulls; the _bigness_ of God's beautiful world--only\none more day of it all!\n\nPorridge out in the sunshine, and lots and lots of bread-and-jam. Then\ndown to the shore.\n\nOn the way shorewards the Cubs met a kind lady who lived in the little\nhouse at the end of the sea-wall. She had often seen them run past, and\nnow she stopped and asked Akela what they were. When she heard it was\ntheir last day she said they might have her boat for the whole morning!\n\nSo the Cubs and Akela all got into their bathing things, and the boat\nwas rowed round from where it was anchored to the bit of the shore where\nthey always played. When everyone had been out and had learnt to row,\nfirst with one oar and then with two; and when the tide had gone down,\ndown, down, as far as it could, Akela anchored the boat in shallow\nwater, and took away all the oars but one. Then the Cubs had a gorgeous\ntime, rowing by themselves, as far as the long rope would allow. I don't\nknow what that boat turned into--pirate vessels, the _Golden Hind_, and\neverything else you can imagine, while the gallant crew had many an\nadventure.\n\nMeanwhile, _another_ kind lady had appeared on the scene. She lived in a\nnice house, with a very sloping lawn in front, and her garden steps came\nright down on to the bit of sand where the Cubs always played. She came\ndown and offered a prize for the best little house or model village or\ngarden the Cubs could make. Four couples set to work, and by dinner-time\nthere were some splendid models ready. Then \"Big Andy and Little Andy,\"\nclad only in their bathing-drawers, walked demurely up to the front-door\nof the house, and asked the lady to come and see. She came out carrying\ntwo lovely spades, two splendid shrimping-nets, and two very nice rubber\nballs.\n\nShe decided the \"Andies\" had got first prize; they had made a model of\nQuarr Abbey; Sam and Dick were second, with a church; while Bert and\nBunny came in a good third, with a very nice house standing in a large\nand luxurious garden. After giving the prizes, this fairy godmother\ninvited the whole Pack to tea in her garden, at four o'clock, after the\nafternoon bathe!\n\nSo, after dinner, they went to the Stable and made themselves a little\nbit respectable, and then down to the shore and bathed, and afterwards\nwent up the smooth, steep lawn to the fairy godmother's house.\n\nSoon a maid brought out tea; and it was _some_ tea--cake of all sorts,\nand real bread-and-butter (not \"marg.\"), and little jam-sandwiches (but,\nas one Cub remarked, \"it didn't _fill you up_, like camp-tea\").\n\nAfter tea, during which the Cubs were wonderfully quiet and\nwell-behaved, they entertained their hostess with various kinds of\nsomersaults and cart-wheels, and then went through a large part of the\nfamous concert for her benefit. Before going they gave her a Grand Howl,\nand then all shook hands with her.\n\nAfter that they played on the shore, and then ended up with a last\nbathe, about seven.\n\nBack to supper. Camp prayers for the last time in the soft evening\nlight. Good-night to Father and Mother and Godmother; and then to the\nStable, for the last story.\n\nBut as they squatted round waiting for the story, someone made a remark\nthat was the beginning of quite a long pow-wow. \"Miss,\" he said, \"shall\nwe be Cubs in _Heaven_, and will you be our Cubmaster?\"\n\nEveryone had questions to ask about Heaven--more than Akela knew how to\nanswer! And then they grew serious as someone mentioned two Cubs who had\ndied a year before. \"Do you think Frank and Bob have found each other in\nheaven?\" \"Yes,\" said Akela, \"I'm sure they have; and I expect they've\nfound those two Cubs from two other Westminster Packs, who died of 'flu,\nlast winter.\"\n\nAnd that is why this book is dedicated to Frank and Bob, for they were\ntwo of the most faithful Cubs who ever lived. They died brave and\nunselfish--Bob after a long and very painful illness, in which he never\n_gave in to himself_, but was always thinking of other people and his\n\"little 'uns.\" At last, as he lay delirious, he used to think he was in\ncamp again, and say: \"Oh, mother, look at the green fields--aren't they\nlovely?\" And as Akela knelt by his bed, holding his poor little hot\nhand, she felt sure that soon he would be playing in the green fields of\nHeaven--the best camp of all, where the Good Shepherd was already\nwaiting to carry him in His strong, kind arms.\n\nAnd now someone else had a splendid idea: \"Perhaps they've talked to the\nSaints!\"\n\n\"_We_ shall know a lot of the Saints when _we_ go to Heaven,\" said\nanother Cub; \"_I_ shall look out for St. Antony first.\"\n\nAnd so they decided to try and get to know as many Saints as possible\nbefore they died, _and to try and copy them_, so that some day they\nwould find lots of friends in Heaven, who would not be ashamed to\nreceive the salutes of their little brothers, and to return them with\nkind smiles of welcome.\n\nThen the Cubs settled down for a last story.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ST. GEORGE.\n\n\"And now,\" said the Cubs, \"a last story! Go on, Miss--make it an _extra_\ngood one, exciting and full of adventures, and the best of all, because\nit's the last night.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Akela, \"I'll tell you the story of the Patron Saint of\nall Cubs and Scouts, and of England. Who's that?\"\n\n\"St. George!\" cried the Cubs in chorus. And although many of them knew\nthe story very well, they snuggled down in their blankets and prepared\nto enjoy themselves.\n\nWell (said Akela), I'm going to tell you the story of the Saint who was\nmore thought about and honoured in the old days than, perhaps, any other\nSaint who ever lived. He was from the very earliest times--in fact, from\ndirectly after his death--called \"the Great Martyr.\" He became the\npatron of many countries and orders of knighthood, but specially in\nEngland was he loved, and his feast was kept as a great holiday, equal\nto Christmas. Already, before William the Conqueror came to England, our\nforefathers had begun to build churches in honour of St. George. But it\nwas King Richard Coeur de Lion who specially spread devotion to St.\nGeorge in England, because he took him as his own patron, and used his\nname as his battle-cry. \"For God and St. George!\" he would shout, as he\nswung his mighty battle-axe in the air and charged at the head of his\nknights toward the Saracen lines.\n\nSt. George several times appeared on a white horse, and led the\nCrusaders to victory when it seemed as if the enemy were going to put\nthem to flight and come off victorious.\n\nMany people think of St. George as a knight on a prancing horse, who\nkilled a dragon and rescued a maiden in distress. But this is only a\nkind of parable or picture of the real St. George and what he did. The\ndragon is a picture of the wicked, heathen religion that tried to kill\nthe beautiful young Church that Our Lord had made. St. George fought\nthis dragon, and gave his life in the battle, but he rescued the maiden\n(who represents the Church); for his death seems to have rallied the\nChristians and filled them with new courage to fight bravely and stick\nto it, until at last the heathen dragon was overcome, and the Church of\nChrist was able to fill all the world with joy and truth and light.\n\nWell, now I will tell you what the old books say about St. George; but\nwe have not many details about his life, as we have about St. Francis's.\n\nSt. George lived a bit more than three hundred years after Christ. He\nwas the son of a Roman soldier, a Christian, stationed in Palestine,\nwhich was a Roman colony. St. George was one of those brave,\nstraightforward boys who are afraid of nothing--neither of themselves\nand their weakness, nor of other people and their unkindness. He\npractised \"not giving in to himself,\" like a good Cub; and he thought a\ngreat deal of his _honour_, like a good Scout. And he knew that\neverything brave or good that he ever did was by the grace of his\nCaptain, Christ, and not because he was any better himself than anybody\nelse. He could ride well, shoot an arrow straight, and use a spear or a\nbroadsword as well as any Roman boy. But it was not so much this as his\nway of obeying quickly, and keeping his word, and never giving in to\nhimself, which made him rise from promotion to promotion when he joined\nthe Roman army.\n\nHe was still very young when he was made what we should now call a\nColonel, and given a great deal of responsibility. In fact, the Emperor\nthought no end of him, and people whispered that some day he would be\nhead of the army and one of the most important men in the Roman Empire.\nThis was rather wonderful, because the Emperor, Diocletian, was a\nheathen and hated Christians, and, as I told you, St. George was a very\ngood Christian.\n\nIn those days the Christian Church was no longer hiding in the\nCatacombs, but had come out into the open, and nearly half Diocletian's\nEmpire was Christian. But something--probably pride--made Diocletian\nhate the Christians, and he decided to do all he could to destroy the\nChurch of Christ, and force the people back into the old religion, and\nworship a god that was really not very different from Caesar, the\nEmperor, himself.\n\nSo he first tried burning down the churches, and then imprisoning the\npriests and bishops. But one day he suddenly got mad, and gave an order\nthat if the people would not worship the Roman gods and offer incense to\nthem, and swear that they no longer believed in Christ, his soldiers\nwould kill them like beasts and leave them in the streets, as a ghastly\nwarning to any other fools who refused to obey.\n\nSo the soldiers went forth, sword in hand, and every man, woman, and\nchild who refused to give up Christ was killed, or wounded and left to\nbleed to death.\n\nNow, no one had thought that Diocletian would ever go as far as this,\nand when the horrible news was brought to St. George he was filled with\nrage. The Emperor was, of course, his master, but there and then he\nvowed that he would not stay in the service of a vile murderer, a coward\nwho could stain his sword with the blood of women and little children;\nand he prepared at once to go to the Emperor, and say straight out all\nthat was burning in his heart.\n\nNow, his friends knew that nothing would more enrage the Emperor than\nthis, because he thought a lot of St. George, and yet he was proud and\nobstinate, and nothing would make him stop persecuting the Christians.\nIf St. George spoke as he said he would, it would certainly mean _no\nchance of promotion_, no becoming head of the army; perhaps, even, it\nwould mean imprisonment; possibly death. So they simply _begged_ St.\nGeorge not to go. But do you think he was that sort? Not much! The last\nthing he wanted was promotion in the army of a man who was the cruel\nenemy of Christ and the murderer of his fellow-Christians. So he set\nspurs to his horse, and rode off for the Emperor's Court.\n\nDiocletian was surprised to see him arrive suddenly, travel-stained and\napparently in a great hurry; and still more was he surprised when,\ninstead of speaking with reverence and respect, he let the words almost\nburst forth from his full heart, and told the Emperor that it would be\nbetter if he paid honour to the God from Whom he had received his\nsceptre, instead of murdering the faithful servants of that God.\n\nDiocletian was first surprised and then angry. But he tried to laugh it\noff, because he was really fond of St. George. Then he tried reasoning\nwith the young soldier, and explaining that he had to keep the\nChristians in good discipline in case they might revolt or get proud and\nrebellious. But St. George would listen to no reasons or excuses, and,\nunbuckling his sword, he laid it down, resigning his commission in the\narmy of a man who could act so dishonourably.\n\nThen Diocletian got very angry indeed. He gave orders that St. George\nshould be put in a dark dungeon, and loaded with chains until his pride\nshould be broken, and he should be willing to humble himself before the\nEmperor. So angry was he that he made up his cruel mind that now he\nwould even force St. George to give up the Christian religion himself,\nand that no pains should be spared to make him do this.\n\nAlone in the dark, dank, icy-cold dungeon, St. George lay in his heavy\nchains, and wondered what was going to happen next. It was very\nhorrible, down there, and he ached in every limb, and he was very\nhungry; but somehow he felt kind of glad inside, because he knew he was\nsuffering all this for Christ's sake.\n\nOne day, when his gaoler brought him his ration of hard bread, he told\nhim that he had heard a rumour that the executioner was coming to the\ndungeon, and that if St. George did not give a satisfactory answer he\nwould be put to torture. The gaoler said it would, he thought, be a very\npainful kind of torture, and St. George had better be reasonable.\n\nWhen he had gone St. George sat in the darkness with his heart beating\nrather fast. He wondered what sort of torture it would be, and if he\nwould be able to stick it. Then he remembered that Our Lord had suffered\nawful tortures, and had foretold that His friends would have to, as\nwell. So he asked Our Lord to give him grace to be able to stick\n_anything_ the Emperor should do, and then he felt quite happy again.\n\nWell, the hours dragged by, and at last St. George heard the tramp of\nfeet on the stone stairs. Then there was a creak as the great key was\nturned in the lock, and bolts were shot back. The door opened, and there\nstood the executioner and two soldiers, one carrying a lantern.\n\nThe executioner, who had known St. George as a Colonel in the army,\nspoke respectfully. He gave St. George a message from the Emperor,\nsaying that if he would come back and offer incense to the gods, and\napologize for his proud words, he would get his liberty and be given\nback his commission. St. George laughed, and said he certainly wouldn't.\nThen the executioner said that in that case the Emperor had commanded\nthat he should be tortured till he agreed to do all he was told.\n\nThe soldiers loosened his chains, and he was led out and up the stairs.\nThe blazing, blinding sun dazzled his eyes after the dimness of the\ndungeon. The pavement of the courtyard seemed burning to his cold, bare\nfeet. Soldiers looked curiously at him as he passed, but of course\ndidn't salute, now. He was taken away to the horrible place of\nexecution, and there a new form of torture was applied to him--a great\nwheel full of spikes into which he was thrust. When he was dragged out\nhis body was one mass of wounds, and his blood dripped down on to the\nfloor. He was carried on a stretcher back to the dungeon; and the\nexecutioner felt quite sure that when he was well enough to answer he\nwould agree to do anything the Emperor wanted.\n\nSt. George was dazed with pain and loss of blood. His body seemed to\nburn all over. The darkness made his eyes ache, and he lay hour after\nhour, wondering how soon he would die. He had got to the point when he\nthought he simply couldn't bear another moment, when he heard a Voice in\nthe darkness, and It said: \"Fear not, George, for I am with thee.\"\n\nHis heart seemed to leap up, for he knew for certain that it was Our\nLord's Voice--he could not possibly mistake it. And suddenly all the\npain seemed a thousand times worth while, and he was glad he had had it;\nand he didn't feel lonely any more; and he just lay in the darkness and\ntalked to Our Lord, knowing that He was near. And he forgot his pain.\n\nWell, when a Roman officer came to receive his message to the Emperor\nSt. George was able to laugh--rather weakly this time--and say he had no\nmessage for the Emperor, except that he had better stop murdering\nChristians, and beg God's mercy before it was too late.\n\nThe officer thought St. George was rather a fool, and a very brave man,\nand he went back to the Emperor.\n\nA few days later the executioner arrived once more, and again led St.\nGeorge across the sunny courtyard. St. George remembered the Voice of\nChrist saying, \"I am with thee,\" and he was not afraid. This time they\nrolled a great heavy stone over his body, so that his bones were crushed\nand bruised, and then they carried him back to the dungeon.\n\nWhen the officer came for his answer he could hardly believe that St.\nGeorge dared still to refuse. He told the Emperor what St. George had\nsaid. The Emperor was surprised and sorry, for he saw that St. George\nmust be a very brave man. He also saw that it was no good waiting any\nlonger, or trying to force him, so he sent the executioner once again.\n\nThis time the executioner told St. George that his last chance had come.\nEither he must give up Christ, or he must face death. The words sent a\nkind of thrill through St. George--a thrill of horror at the thought of\ndeath, which turned into a thrill of joy at the thought of going into\nthe presence of Christ, and hearing His wonderful Voice again, only this\ntime seeing Him, too. And he rejoiced, also, to think he would really be\na _martyr_. So he whispered faintly--for he could hardly speak now--that\nnothing in all the world would make him give up Christ.\n\nSo the soldiers took off his chains and dragged him up to his feet, and\nhe walked slowly, with weak, swaying steps, into the sun.\n\n\"Fear not.\" He said the words over to himself. No, he wouldn't fear! \"I\nam with thee.\" How wonderful! \"And soon,\" he said in his heart, \"_I_\nshall be with _Thee_!\" And so he knelt down and waited.\n\nAnd the executioner's great axe flashed in the sun as he swung it aloft,\nand the next instant the blood of \"the Great Martyr\" was streaming\nacross the white pavement, as St. George's Cross streams scarlet across\nthe white ground of his flag.\n\nThe soul of \"the Great Martyr\" had entered Heaven, where the angels\nrejoiced at his coming, when the Christians picked up his poor, broken\nbody and carried it away. It was buried in a beautiful tomb, and before\nlong a great church had been built over it. On every hand people talked\nof \"the Great Martyr,\" and the Christians rejoiced at his courage, and\ncheered each other on to resist bravely. Many of the heathen, seeing\nthat St. George could suffer tortures and die for his faith, began to\nbelieve in the Christ he loved, and were baptized. Diocletian himself\nbegan to fear a little, and the butchering stopped.\n\nAnd so it was that the maiden in distress, the persecuted Church of\nChrist, was saved by her brave knight, St. George.\n\n\n\n\nGOOD-BYE\n\n\nA grey morning, but quite fine. Some of the Cubs went off to bathe after\nbreakfast, others to do final shopping and buying of presents to take\nhome, while some stayed in the field to help with the packing. The tent\nwas struck and rolled up, swings and hammocks taken down, palliasses\nemptied and done up in bales, and by twelve o'clock all was finished,\nand the time came to change out of the comfy old camp clothes into full\nuniform. How tight and hot boots and stockings seemed!\n\nAfter dinner the Cubs gathered round into the council circle. Everyone\nwas feeling rather quiet. Akela had a short pow-wow, and then the Cubs\nsquatted and let off a mighty Grand Howl, as a \"thank you\" to everyone\nconcerned for the glorious time they had had, and as a sign that they\nwere going back to London meaning to _do their best_ as never before.\n\nThen they fell in, two deep, and, with a last look at the field, marched\naway.\n\nThere was plenty of time before the boat was due to sail from Ryde, so,\nafter marching smartly through the village, they fell out and strolled\nalong the wall or the seashore. On reaching Ryde they fell in again, and\nhalted near the fountain, two at a time falling out for drinks. At\nSmith's bookstall Akela bought a supply of \"comics\" to read in the\ntrain.\n\nOn board the ship an adventure happened. Big Andy _of course_ dropped\nhis cap overboard. The sea was rather rough and it seemed as if the cap\nmust be lost, two stars and all. It was too far down to reach with the\nship's mop or any stick. But luckily some thoughtful Cub had brought a\nlong piece of string with an open safety-pin on the end, in hopes of\ncatching a fish on the crossing. With this the cap was fished for,\nwhile the people on the pier and the first-class passengers on the upper\ndeck looked on with eager interest. Akela thought there was no hope of\never seeing the cap again on Andy's head. She little knew that two pious\nCubs were busy _praying_! Presently the cap was triumphantly pulled up,\namidst cheers from the pier and the upper deck.\n\n\"I prayed he'd get it!\" cried a Cub.\n\n\"And so did I!\" exclaimed another.\n\nAt Portsmouth there was a terrible crush for the train, but, as usual,\nthe Cubs did well, for the kind guard gave them two first-class\ncompartments and locked them in.\n\nAnd so they travelled back to dear, smoky old London, very much browner\nand a good deal fatter than when they set out.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n          PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY\n          BILLING AND SONS, LTD., GUILDFORD AND ESHER\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nObvious punctuation errors repaired.\n\nPage 42, \"at\" changed to \"as\" (important as Akela)","title":"Stories of the Saints by Candle-Light","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":39703}