{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36674/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36674","id":"gutenberg_36674","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36674","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian saints -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Juliet Sutherland, David Garcia and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: (front cover)]\n\n[Illustration: SHE SLEPT CALMLY AND PEACEFULLY UNTIL SHE DREAMED A DREAM.]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIN GOD'S GARDEN\n\nSTORIES OF THE SAINTS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN\n\nBY AMY STEEDMAN\n\nWITH SIXTEEN REPRODUCTIONS FROM ITALIAN MASTERPIECES\n\n[Illustration]\n\n  LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK, Ltd.\n  35 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C., & EDINBURGH\n\n\n\n\nTO MY MOTHER\n\n\n\n\nABOUT THIS BOOK\n\n\nThere is a garden which God has planted for Himself, more beautiful than\nany earthly garden. The flowers that bloom there are the white souls of\nHis saints, who have kept themselves pure and unspotted from the world.\n\nIn God's garden there is every kind of flower, each differing from the\nother in beauty. Some are tall and stately like the lilies, growing\nwhere all may see them in their dress of white and gold; some are half\nconcealed like the violets, and known only by the fragrance of kind\ndeeds and gentle words which have helped to sweeten the lives of others;\nwhile some, again, are hidden from all earthly eyes, and only God knows\ntheir loveliness and beholds the secret places where they grow. But\nknown or unknown, all have risen above the dark earth, looking ever\nupward; and, although often bent and beaten down by many a cruel storm\nof temptation and sin, they have ever raised their heads again, turning\ntheir faces towards God; until at last they have been crowned with the\nperfect flower of holiness, and now blossom for ever in the Heavenly\nGarden.\n\nIn this book you will not find the stories of all God's saints. I have\ngathered a few together, just as one gathers a little posy from a garden\nfull of roses. But the stories I have chosen to tell are those that I\nhope children will love best to hear.\n\nLet us remember that God has given to all of us, little children as well\nas grown-up people, a place in His garden here on earth, and He would\nhave us take these white flowers, the lives of His saints, as a pattern\nfor our own. We may not be set where all can see us; our place in God's\ngarden may be a very humble and sheltered spot; but, like the saints, we\nmay keep our faces ever turned upward, and learn to grow, as they grew,\nlike their Master, pure and straight and strong--fit flowers to blossom\nin the Garden of God.\n\n  'Saints are like roses when they flush rarest,\n  Saints are like lilies when they bloom fairest,\n  Saints are like violets, sweetest of their kind.'\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF STORIES\n\n\n                                                                      PAGE\n\n  SAINT URSULA,                                                          1\n  SAINT BENEDICT,                                                       16\n  SAINT CHRISTOPHER,                                                    29\n  SAINT CATHERINE OF SIENA,                                             41\n  SAINT AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO,                                             54\n  SAINT AUGUSTINE OF CANTERBURY,                                        62\n  SAINT CECILIA,                                                        71\n  SAINT GILES,                                                          79\n  SAINT NICHOLAS,                                                       84\n  SAINT FAITH,                                                          97\n  SAINT COSMO AND SAINT DAMIAN,                                        102\n  SAINT MARTIN,                                                        110\n  SAINT GEORGE,                                                        119\n  SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI,                                             128\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF PICTURES\n\n\n                                                                  AT PAGE\n\nSAINT URSULA,\n\n She slept calmly and peacefully until she dreamed a dream, _Frontispiece_\n Ursula stood on the landing-place, the first to greet the Prince,       8\n\n    By Vittore Carpaccio at the Accademia, Venice.\n\n\nSAINT BENEDICT,\n\n A little demon seized the robe of the young monk,                      22\n A terrible storm began to rage,                                        28\n\n    By Lorenzo Monaco, Uffizi, Florence.\n\n\nSAINT CHRISTOPHER,\n\n The child upon his shoulder seemed to grow heavier,                    38\n\n    By Titian, Doge's Palace, Venice.\n\n\nSAINT CATHERINE OF SIENA,\n\n The Holy Child placed a ring upon her finger,                          46\n\n    By Benozzo Gozzali, Uffizi, Florence.\n\n\nSAINT AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO,\n\n The child had digged a hole in the sand,                               60\n\n    By Sandro Botticelli, Accademia, Florence.\n\n\nSAINT CECILIA,\n\n A crown of lilies and roses in each hand,                              74\n She taught them about the Lord of Heaven,                              78\n\n    By Spinello Aretino, S. Maria del Carmine, Florence.\n\n\nSAINT NICHOLAS,\n\n He showed his daughter the gold,                                       86\n He went to the harbour where two ships lay,                            90\n\n    By Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Accademia, Florence.\n\n\nSAINT COSMO AND SAINT DAMIAN,\n\n But Cosmo turned and walked away,                                     104\n An angel guided them with loving care,                                108\n\n    By Fra Angelico, Accademia, Florence.\n\n\nSAINT GEORGE,\n\n Saint George rode straight at the monster,                            124\n\n    By Vittore Carpaccio, S. Georgio Maggiore, Venice.\n\n\nSAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI,\n\n Then the Pope took the little poor brothers under his protection,     136\n He chanted the Gospel at the first Christmas mass,                    140\n\n    By Giotto, Accademia, Florence.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT URSULA\n\n\nOnce upon a time in the land of Brittany there lived a good king, whose\nname was Theonotus. He had married a princess who was as good as she was\nbeautiful, and they had one little daughter, whom they called Ursula.\n\nIt was a very happy and prosperous country over which Theonotus ruled,\nfor he was a Christian, and governed both wisely and well, and nowhere\nwas happiness more certain to be found than in the royal palace where\nthe king and queen and little Princess Ursula lived.\n\nAll went merrily until Ursula was fifteen years old, and then a great\ntrouble came, for the queen, her mother, died. The poor king was\nheart-broken, and for a long time even Ursula could not comfort him. But\nwith patient tenderness she tried to do for him all that her mother had\ndone, and gradually he began to feel that he still had something to live\nfor.\n\nHer mother had taught Ursula with great care, and the little maid had\nloved her lessons, and so it came to pass that there was now no princess\nin all the world so learned as the Princess Ursula. It is said that she\nknew all that had happened since the beginning of the world, all about\nthe stars and the winds, all the poetry that had ever been written, and\nevery science that learned men had ever known.\n\nBut what was far better than all this learning was that the princess was\nhumble and good. She never thought herself wiser than other people, and\nher chief pleasure was in doing kind things and helping others. Her\nfather called her the light of his eyes, and his one fear was that she\nwould some day marry and leave him alone.\n\nAnd true it was that many princes wished to marry Ursula, for the fame\nof her beauty and of her learning had spread to far distant lands.\n\nNow on the other side of the sea, not very far from Brittany, there\nwas a great country called England. The people there were strong and\npowerful, but they had not yet learned to be Christians. The king of\nthat land had an only son called Conon, who was as handsome as he was\nbrave. And when his father heard of the fame of the Princess Ursula he\nmade up his mind that she should be his son's wife. So he sent a great\ncompany of nobles and ambassadors to the court of Brittany to ask King\nTheonotus for the hand of the Princess Ursula.\n\nThat king received the messengers most courteously, but he was very much\ntroubled and perplexed at the request. He did not want to part with\nUrsula, and he knew she did not wish to marry and leave him. And yet he\nscarcely dared offend the powerful King of England, who might be such a\ndangerous enemy.\n\nSo to gain time he told the messengers he would give them their answer\nnext day, and then he shut himself up in his room and sorrowfully leaned\nhis head upon his hand as he tried to think what was best to be done.\nBut as he sat there thinking the do or opened and Ursula came in.\n\n'Why art thou so sad, my father?' she asked, 'and what is it that\ntroubleth thee so greatly?'\n\n'I have this day received an offer for thy hand,' answered her father\nsadly, 'and the messengers are even now here, and because they come from\nthe King of England I dare not refuse their request, and yet I know not\nwhat answer to give them when they return in the morning.'\n\n'If that is all, do not trouble thyself, dear father,' answered Ursula;\n'I myself will answer the messengers and all will be well.'\n\nThen the princess left her father and went to her own room that she\nmight consider what answer might be wisest to send. But the more she\nthought the more troubled she became, until at last she grew so weary\nthat she took off her crown and placed it as usual at the foot of her\nbed and prepared to go to rest. Her little dog lay guarding her, and\nshe slept calmly and peacefully until she dreamed a dream which seemed\nalmost like a vision. For she thought she saw a bright light shining\nthrough the door and through the light an angel coming towards her,\nwho spoke to her and said:--\n\n'Trouble not thyself, Ursula, for to-morrow thou shalt know what answer\nthou shalt give. God has need of thee to save many souls, and though\nthis prince doth offer thee an earthly crown, God has an unfading crown\nof heavenly beauty laid up for thee, which thou shalt win through much\nsuffering.'\n\nSo next morning when the messengers came into the great hall to receive\ntheir answer, they saw the Princess Ursula herself sitting on the throne\nnext to her father. She was so beautiful, and greeted them so graciously\nthat they longed more than ever that their prince might win her for his\nbride.\n\nAnd as they listened for the king to speak, it was Ursula's voice that\nfell on their ears. She began by sending her greeting to the King of\nEngland and to Prince Conon, his son, and bade the messengers say that\nthe honour offered her was more than she deserved, but since their\nchoice had fallen upon her, she on her side was ready to accept the\nprince as her promised husband, if he would agree to three conditions.\n'And first,' went on Ursula, leaning forward and speaking very clearly\nand slowly, so that the foreign ambassadors might understand every word,\n'I would have the prince, your master, send to me ten of the noblest\nladies of your land to be my companions and friends, and for each\nof these ladies and for myself a thousand maidens to wait upon us.\nSecondly, he must give me three years before the date of my marriage so\nthat I and these noble ladies may have time to serve God by visiting\nthe shrines of the saints in distant lands. And thirdly, I ask that the\nprince and all his court shall accept the true faith and be baptized\nChristians. For I cannot wed even so great and perfect a prince, if he\nbe not as perfect a Christian.'\n\nThen Ursula stopped speaking, and the ambassadors bowed low before her\nbeauty and wisdom and went to take her answer to their king.\n\nNow Ursula did not make these conditions without a purpose, for in\nher heart she thought that surely the prince would not agree to such\ndemands, and she would still be free. But even if he did all that she\nhad asked, it would surely fulfil the purpose of her dream, and she\nwould save these eleven thousand maidens and teach them to serve and\nhonour God.\n\nEre long the ambassadors arrived safely in England, and went to\nreport their mission to the king. They could not say enough about the\nperfections of this wonderful princess of Brittany. She was as fair and\nstraight as a lily, her rippling hair was golden as the sunshine, and\nher eyes like shining stars. The pearls that decked her bodice were not\nas fair as the whiteness of her throat, and her walk and every gesture\nwas so full of grace that it clearly showed she was born to be a queen.\nAnd if the outside was so fair, words failed them when they would\ndescribe her wisdom and learning, her good deeds and kind actions.\n\nThe king, as he listened to his nobles, felt that no conditions could\nbe too hard that would secure such a princess for his son, and as for\nthe prince himself his only desire was to have her wishes fulfilled as\nquickly as possible, so that he might set sail for Brittany and see with\nhis own eyes this beautiful princess who had promised to be his bride.\n\nSo letters were sent north, south, east, and west, to France and\nScotland and Cornwall, wherever there were vassals of England to be\nfound, bidding all knights and nobles to send their daughters to court\nwith their attendant maidens, the fairest and noblest of the land. All\nwere to be arrayed in the finest and costliest raiment and most precious\njewels, so that they might be deemed fit companions for the Princess\nUrsula, who was to wed Prince Conon, their liege lord.\n\nThen the knights and nobles sent all their fairest maidens, and so eager\nwere they to do as the king desired, that very soon ten of the noblest\nmaidens, each with a thousand attendants, and another thousand for the\nPrincess Ursula, were ready to start for the court of Brittany.\n\nNever before was seen such a fair sight as when all these maidens went\nout to meet the Princess Ursula. But fairest of all was the princess\nherself as she stood to receive her guests. For the light of love shone\nin her eyes, and to each she gave a welcome as tender as if they had all\nbeen her own sisters. It seemed a glorious thing to think they were all\nto serve God together, and no longer to live the life of mere pleasure\nand vanity.\n\nAs may well be believed the fame of these fair maidens spread far and\nnear, and all the nobles and barons crowded to the court to see the\nsight that all the world talked about. But Ursula and her maidens paid\nno heed to the gay courtiers, having other matters to think upon.\n\nFor when the soft spring weather was come, Ursula gathered all her\ncompanions together and led them to a green meadow outside the city,\nthrough which a clear stream flowed. The grass was starred with daisies\nand buttercups, and the sweet scent of the lime blossoms hung in the\nair, a fitting bower for those living flowers that gathered there that\nday.\n\nIn the midst of the meadow there was a throne, and there the princess\nsat, and with words of wonderful power she told her companions the story\nof God's love and of the coming of our Blessed Lord, and showed them\nwhat the beauty of a life lived for Him might be.\n\nAnd the faces of the listening maidens shone with a glory that was more\nthan earthly, as they with one accord promised to follow the Princess\nUrsula wherever she might lead, if only she would help them to live the\nblessed life so that they too might win the heavenly crown.\n\nThen Ursula descended from her throne and talked with each of the\nmaidens, and those who had not yet been baptized she led through the\nflowery meadow to the banks of the stream, and there a priest baptized\nthem while the birds joined in the hymn of praise sung by the whole\ncompany.\n\nBut all this while the Prince Conon waited with no little impatience for\nnews of Ursula. He had been baptized and joined the Christian faith, he\nhad sent the companions she desired, and now he waited for her to fulfil\nher promise.\n\nAnd ere long a letter reached him, written round and fair in the\nprincess's own handwriting, telling him that as he had so well fulfilled\nher conditions, and was now her own true knight, she gave him permission\nto come to her father's court, that they might meet and learn to know\neach other.\n\nIt was but little time that Prince Conon lost before he set sail for\nBrittany. The great warships made a prosperous voyage over the sea that\nparted the two countries, and came sailing majestically into the harbour\nof Brittany, where the people had gathered in crowds to see the young\nprince who had come to woo their fair princess.\n\nFrom every window gay carpets were hung, and the town was all in\nholiday, as Ursula stood on the landing-place, the first to greet the\nprince as he stepped ashore, and all that Conon had heard of her seemed\nas nothing compared to the reality, as she stood before him in her great\nbeauty and welcomed him with gentle courtesy. And he grew to love her so\ntruly that he was willing to do in all things as she wished, though he\nlonged for the three years to be over that he might carry her off to\nEngland and make her his queen.\n\nBut Ursula told the prince of the vision that had come to her in her\ndream, when the angel had said she must first go through much suffering,\nand visit the shrines of saints in distant lands. And she told him she\ncould not be happy unless he granted her these three years in which to\nserve God, and begged him meanwhile to stay with her father and comfort\nhim while she was gone.\n\n[Illustration: URSULA STOOD ON THE LANDING PLACE, THE FIRST TO GREET\nTHE PRINCE.]\n\nSo Ursula set out with her eleven thousand maidens, and the city was\nleft very desolate and forlorn. But the pilgrims were happy as they\nsailed away over the sea, for they were doing the angel's bidding, and\nthey feared nothing, for they trusted that God would protect and help\nthem.\n\nAt first the winds were contrary and they were driven far out of their\ncourse, so that instead of arriving at Rome, which was the place they\nhad meant to go to, they were obliged to land at a city called Cologne,\nwhere the barbarous Germans lived. Here, while they were resting for a\nlittle, another dream was sent to Ursula, and the angel told her that in\nthis very place, on their return, she and all her maidens would suffer\ndeath and win their heavenly crowns. This did not affright the princess\nand her companions, but rather made them rejoice that they should be\nfound worthy to die for their faith.\n\nSo they sailed on up the River Rhine till they could go no further, and\nthey landed at the town of Basle, determined to do the rest of their\npilgrimage on foot.\n\nIt was a long and tedious journey over the mountains to Italy, and the\ntender feet of these pilgrims might have found it impossible to climb\nthe rough road had not God sent six angels to help them on their way, to\nsmooth over the rough places, and to help them in all dangers so that no\nharm could befall them.\n\nFirst they journeyed past the great lakes where the snow-capped\nmountains towered in their white glory, then up the mountain-road, ever\nhigher and higher, where the glaciers threatened to sweep down upon them,\nand the path was crossed by fierce mountain-torrents. But before long\nthey began to descend the further side; and the snow melted in patches\nand the green grass appeared. Then followed stretches of flowery\nmeadow-land, where the soft southern air whispered to them of the land\nof sunshine, fruit, and flowers.\n\nLower down came the little sun-baked Italian villages, and the simple,\nkindly people who were eager to help the company of maidens in every\nway, and gazed upon them with reverence when they knew they were on a\npilgrimage to Rome.\n\nThus the pilgrims went onward until at length they came to the River\nTiber and entered the city of Rome, where were the shrines of Saint\nPeter and Saint Paul.\n\nNow the Bishop of Rome, whom men call the Pope, was much troubled when\nit was told him that a company of eleven thousand fair women had entered\nhis city. He could not understand what it might mean, and was inclined\nto fear it might be a temptation of the evil one. So he went out to meet\nthem, taking with him all his clergy in a great procession, chanting\ntheir hymns as they went.\n\nAnd soon the two processions met, and what was the amazement and joy of\nthe Pope when a beautiful maiden came and knelt before him and asked for\nhis blessing, telling him why she and her companions had come to Rome.\n\n'Most willingly do I give thee my blessing,' answered the old man, 'and\nbid thee and thy companions welcome to my city. My servants shall put\nup tents for you all in some quiet spot, and ye shall have the best that\nRome can afford.'\n\nSo the maidens rested there in quiet happiness, thankful to have come\nto the end of their pilgrimage and to have reached the shrines of God's\ngreat saints. But to Ursula an added joy was sent which made her\nhappiness complete.\n\nFor the prince, whom she had left behind, grew impatient of her long\nabsence, and the longing for his princess grew so strong he felt that he\ncould not stay quietly at home not knowing where she was nor what had\nbefallen her. So he had set out, and, journeying by a different route,\nhad arrived in Rome the same day as Ursula and her maidens were received\nby the good bishop.\n\nIt is easy to picture the delight of Conon and Ursula when they met\ntogether again, and knelt land in hand to receive the Pope's blessing.\nAnd when Ursula told him all that had happened and of the angels whom\nGod had sent to guide and protect them, the only desire the prince had\nwas to share her pilgrimage and be near her when danger threatened. And\nhis purpose only became stronger when she told him of the vision she had\nhad in the city of Cologne.\n\n'How can I leave thee, my princess,' he asked, 'when I have but now\nfound thee? Life holds no pleasure when thou art absent. The days are\ngrey and sunless without the sunshine of thy presence. Bid me come with\nthee and share thy dangers, and if it be, as thou sayest, that it is\nGod's will that thou and all these maidens shall pass through suffering\nand death for His sake, then let me too win the heavenly crown that we\nmay praise God together in that country where sorrow and separation can\ntouch us no more.'\n\nAnd Ursula was glad to think that, through love of her, the prince\nshould be led to love God, and so granted his request and bade her\ncompanions prepare to set out once more.\n\nThe Pope would fain have persuaded them to stop longer in Rome, but\nUrsula told him of her vision, and how it was time to return as the\ndream had warned her. Then the Pope and his clergy made up their minds\nto join the pilgrimage also, that they too might honour God by a\nmartyr's death.\n\nNow there were in Rome at that time two great Roman captains who were\ncruel heathens, and who looked upon this pilgrimage with alarm and\nanger. They commanded all the imperial troops in the northern country of\nGermany; and when they heard that Ursula and her maidens were bound for\nCologne they were filled with dismay and wrath. For they said to each\nother:\n\n'If so many good and beautiful women should reach that heathen land the\nmen there will be captivated by their beauty and wish to marry them.\nThen, of course, they will all become Christians, and the whole nation\nwill be won over to this new religion.'\n\n'We cannot suffer this,' was the answer. 'Come, let us think of some way\nto prevent so great a misfortune that would destroy all our power in\nGermany.'\n\nSo these two wicked heathen captains agreed to send a letter to the\nking of the Huns, a fierce savage, who was just then besieging Cologne.\nIn it they told him that thousands of fair women in a great company were\non their way to help the city, and if they were allowed to enter all\nchances of victory for his army would vanish. There was but one thing to\nbe done and that was to kill the entire band of maidens the moment they\narrived.\n\nMeanwhile Ursula and her companions had set sail for Cologne, and\nwith them were now Prince Conon and his knights and the Pope with many\nbishops and cardinals. And after many days of danger and adventure the\npilgrims arrived at the city of Cologne.\n\nThe army of barbarians who were encamped before the city was amazed to\nsee such a strange company landing from the ships. For first there came\nthe eleven thousand maidens, then a company of young unarmed knights,\nthen a procession of old men richly robed and bearing no weapons of any\nkind.\n\nFor a moment the savage soldiers stood still in amazement, but then,\nremembering the orders they had received in the letter from the Roman\ncaptains, they rushed upon the defenceless strangers and began to slay\nthem without mercy. Prince Conon was the first to fall, pierced by an\narrow, at the feet of his princess. Then the knights were slain and the\nPope with all his clergy.\n\nAgain the savage soldiers paused, and then like a pack of wolves they\nfell upon the gentle maidens, and these spotless white lambs were slain\nby thousands.\n\nAnd in their midst, brave and fearless, was the Princess Ursula,\nspeaking cheerful words of comfort to the dying and bidding one and all\nrejoice and look forward to the happy meeting in the heavenly country.\nSo great was her beauty and courage that even those wicked soldiers\ndared not touch her, and at last, when their savage work was done, they\ntook her before their prince that he might decide her fate.\n\nNever before had Ursula's beauty shone forth more wonderfully than\nit did that day when she stood among these savage men and gazed with\nsteadfast eyes upon the prince, as one might look upon a wild beast.\n\nThe prince was amazed and enchanted, for he had never seen so lovely a\nmaid in his life before, and he motioned to the soldiers to bring Ursula\nnearer to him.\n\n'Do not weep, fair maiden,' he said, trying to speak in his gentlest\nvoice, 'for though you have lost all your companions you will not be\nalone. I will be your husband, and you shall be the greatest queen in\nGermany.'\n\nThen most proudly did Ursula draw herself up, and her clear eyes shone\nwith scorn as she answered:\n\n'Does it indeed seem to thee as though I wept? And canst thou believe\nthat I would live when all my dear ones have been slain by thee, thou\ncruel coward, slayer of defenceless women and unarmed men?'\n\nAnd when the proud prince heard these scornful words he fell into a\nfurious rage, and, bending the bow that was in his hand, he shot three\narrows through the heart of Princess Ursula and killed her instantly.\n\nSo the pure soul went to join the companions of her pilgrimage and to\nreceive the crown of life which the angel of her dream had promised her,\nand for which she had laid down her earthly crown as gladly as when in\nher peaceful home she laid it aside before she went to rest.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT BENEDICT\n\n\nIt was in the year of our Lord 540 that Saint Benedict was born at\nSpoleto in Italy, and he was only a boy of sixteen on the night when our\nstory begins.\n\nSuch a cold night it was. Piercing wind swept over the mountains,\nwhistling through the pine-trees and hurrying on to the great city of\nRome that lay in the plains below. It was cold enough in the city where\nthe people could take shelter in their house and sit warming their hands\nover their little pots of fire, but out on the bare hillside it was even\nworse. For the icy breath of the winter wind, which had come far over\nthe snow, swept into every nook and corner as if determined to search\nout any summer warmth that might be lingering in a sheltered corner.\n\nAnd there in a cave high up among the rocks, a boy sat listening to the\nwind, and thinking of many things, as he tried to wrap his worn old\ncloak closer round him.\n\nHe was a tall thin lad, with sad dreaming eyes and a face already\nsharpened by want and suffering. The cave in which he sat had little in\nit, except a heap of dried leaves which served him for a bed, and it was\ndifficult to imagine how any one could live in so dreary and comfortless\na place, so far from any other human being.\n\nBut he was thinking of a very different home, as he sat shivering in\nthe cold that night. Only a year ago he had lived in a beautiful palace,\nwhere everything was pleasant and warm and bright. His father was the\nlord of the country around, and he, the only son of the house, had\neverything that he could want. They were all proud of him, he was so\nclever and brilliant, and as soon as he was old enough he was sent to\nstudy in Rome, that he might become a great lawyer.\n\nThere the boy's eyes saw a different scene--the great city of Rome,\nwhere all was gaiety and pleasure, where all pleased the eye, the ear,\nand the taste, but where, alas, so much wickedness dwelt as well. He had\ntried to shut his eyes to things he did not wish to see, but day by day\nthe sights and sounds around him, the talk of his companions, and the\nthings they thought so pleasant had become hateful to him. And one\nday he had stolen secretly away from Rome, leaving everything behind,\ndetermined to go away into a desert place and live alone. This it seemed\nto him was the only way of truly serving God, to learn to deny himself\nin everything and to keep himself unspotted from the world.\n\nA tender smile came over the boy's face as the next picture rose before\nhis eyes. True he had left all and gone into the wilderness, but love\ncould not so easily be left behind, and his old nurse had found out a\nway of following him, and would not be denied the pleasure of serving\nhim and caring for his wants; even begging food, from door to door, that\nshe might prepare a dainty meal for him.\n\nIt had been very pleasant, but its very pleasantness had warned him that\nhe must deny himself still further. So he had once more stolen away,\nwhen his old nurse was asleep and had hidden himself in the cave among\nthe rocks of Subiaco. Here he was indeed alone, and the only food he had\nwas a little bread which a kind old hermit gave him daily, and his only\ndrink the clear water of the mountain streams.\n\nAnd here he seemed to live with God alone, seeing no one but the kind\nold hermit who brought him his daily bread. He was happy and peaceful,\nnever ceasing to pray for those who in the busy world might forget to\npray for themselves.\n\nBut this night the thoughts of past days were troubling him. And as he\nsat there listening to the wind he began to long for the things he had\nleft behind. One beautiful face especially grew clearer than the rest,\nand smiling upon him beckoned him back to the pleasures and comforts and\nearthly joys he had put away from him.\n\nWith a cry he sprang to his feet and rushed out of the cave. For a moment\nhe felt as if his feet must carry him down the steep mountain-side, over\nthe plain and back to the beautiful city; and then he stood still, and\nwith a prayer for help to overcome this temptation of the Evil One, he\nthrew himself into a thicket of thorny briars that grew by the side of\nthe cave. There he rolled over and over until he was torn and bleeding;\nthen slowly returning to the cave he lay down upon his bed of leaves,\npeaceful and contented. The evil thoughts had fled, the face that\ntempted him had vanished, and Satan was conquered.\n\nSo Benedict began his life of self-denial and solitary prayer. Years\npassed by and in spite of the loneliness of the place and the few people\nwho ever passed by that way, it began to be known that one of God's\nsaints lived in the mountain cave. The shepherds who fed their flocks\non the lower hills would bring him little offerings of milk or cheese\nand ask his blessing, or perhaps a prayer for one who was sick. And\ngradually people began to call him their saint of the mountain, and\nto come to him for help in all their troubles. Thus the fame of his\ngoodness spread wider and wider, until a company of monks who lived\nsome way off sent and besought him to come and live with them and be\ntheir head.\n\nBenedict was grieved to think of leaving his little cell which he had\ngrown to love, and the simple mountain people, who so often came to him\nin their need. But he thought this was a call he ought to obey, so he\nsorrowfully set out and journeyed many miles till he came to the convent\nof the brothers.\n\nIt was all very strange to him after the stillness of his mountain cell,\nand he could not accustom himself to hearing voices all day long and to\nseeing so many faces. Still he strove to do his duty and soon made many\nchanges in the convent life. He told the brothers plainly that there\nwere many comforts they must put away, and above all that they must eat\nless and work more.\n\nNow the brothers did not like this at all, and they began to repent that\nthey had asked so great a saint to come and rule over them, for he made\ntheir rule so hard and strict, that few of them cared to keep it.\n\nThen one day a strange thing happened. The brothers were all dining\ntogether, and Benedict was silently eating his portion, his thoughts\nfar away in the little mountain cell at Subiaco, when some one touched\nhis arm and offered him a cup of wine. Benedict turned and looked\nsearchingly into the brother's face, and then with upraised hand made\nthe sign of the cross over the cup. Instantly it fell broken to the\nground, and the wine was spilt upon the floor, for there had been poison\nin the cup, which the holy sign had destroyed.\n\nThen Benedict looked round at the company of brothers, who sat with\ndowncast eyes, ashamed and silent, and, without a word, he rose and left\nthem. He returned, alone as he had come, back to his mountain home,\nwhere instead of human voices there was the song of the birds, where the\nwild flowers looked at him with pure, friendly faces, and even the wild\nanimals did not count him their enemy and would do him no harm.\n\nHere he hoped once more to live quite alone, but one by one men came and\nbuilt huts close to his cave, that they might be near so great a saint,\nand before long there was a great company living around him.\n\nBenedict's fame had spread even to Rome, and two of the Roman nobles\nsent their sons to be taught by him. One was only five years old and the\nother twelve, and it seemed a hard life for such children. But Benedict\ncared for them and watched over them, and they loved him as if he had\nbeen their own father.\n\nAnd after all life was very pleasant on the mountain-side, when the\nsun shone and lessons and prayers were over. They could play among the\npine-trees and chase the goats over the rocks, and when the sun grew too\nhot creep back into the cave to rest. In spring there were the first\nflowers to hunt for, and they would come back with eager hands filled\nwith violets and mountain anemones. And in autumn there were nuts and\nberries to be gathered, which they laid up like young squirrels for\ntheir winter store.\n\nAnd among the daily duties there was nothing they liked so well as to go\ndown to the lake to fetch water, when the mountain springs had run dry.\nOne day it was the little one's turn to do this, and as he was leaning\nover, his foot slipped, and he fell into the lake, and before he could\nutter a cry the water closed over his head.\n\nAt that very moment Benedict, who was kneeling in prayer on the hill\nabove, saw a vision of the boy's danger, and hastily sent the elder lad\ndown to the lake to help the child.\n\nHe never stayed to question why he was sent, but sped down the\nmountain-side, and without a moment's delay threw himself into the\nlake, hoping to be able to reach the little dark head that had risen\nabove the water for the last time. And lo! he found that the water grew\nfirm beneath his feet, and he walked as if he was on dry land, and\nlifting the child, carried him safely ashore.\n\nWhen Benedict saw that so many other hermits had taken up their abode on\nthe mountain, he determined to form them into a company of brothers, and\ngive them a rule to live by, and by and by they built a little chapel\nwhere they could meet for daily service.\n\nNow, strangely enough, every evening at the hour of prayer, one young\nmonk became restless and uneasy, and would steal silently out of the\nchapel and disappear down the hillside. None of the brothers could think\nwhat made him do this; but night after night the same thing happened\njust when prayers were about to begin. All were troubled and disturbed,\ntill at last they went to Benedict, and asked him what it could mean.\nThen the saint promised to watch, and that very evening he saw what no\nother eyes had seen.\n\nInto the chapel came a little demon black as coal, and he seized the\nrobe of the poor young monk, and dragged him out of the door. And though\nthe demon was so tiny he was stronger than the monk, and easily led him\nswiftly away out of sound of the chapel bell.\n\nThen Benedict followed, and touching the monk with his rod, bade the\ndemon begone and trouble him no longer. And after that the young monk\nstayed in the chapel with the rest, and the demon was seen no more.\n\n[Illustration: A LITTLE DEMON SEIZED THE ROBE OF THE YOUNG MONK.]\n\nIt seemed as if Benedict must always suffer from the malice of evil\nbrothers, who disliked his strict rule; and even in his own mountain\nhome the danger followed him. This time the poison was put into a loaf\nof bread; but Benedict knew that it was there, and while the wicked monk\nwho offered it to him watched with evil eye, hoping to see him eat it,\nhe turned to a wood near by, where a young raven sat. 'Come hither,'\nsaid Benedict, holding out the loaf towards the raven, 'come hither, and\ntake this bread and carry it where the poison that is hidden within can\ndo no harm.'\n\nAnd the story tells us that the raven instantly obeyed, and carried off\nthe loaf. And ere long Death, more powerful than the raven, carried off\nthat wicked monk, so that the poison which lurked in his evil heart\ncould no longer do harm to any one.\n\nIt troubled Benedict greatly about this time to hear that not very\nfar off on Monte Cassino there was a heathen temple where the people\nworshipped false gods, and were living in darkness and sin.\n\nIt seemed terrible that such a thing should be suffered in a Christian\nland, so Benedict made up his mind to go himself and force the people\nto listen to him.\n\nIt was a strange contrast to see him in his coarse, poor robe and thin\nwan face standing preaching among the crowd of gay pleasure-seekers, who\ncared for nothing but eating and drinking and making merry. They could\nnot understand why any one should choose to be poor, and suffer pain and\nhunger for the sake of any god.\n\nBut as Benedict taught them day by day, the majesty of his face and the\nsolemn notes in his voice forced them to listen half unwillingly. Then,\nas they began to learn about the true God, they saw that the gods they\nhad worshipped were false, and they pulled down their temple, and built\ntwo chapels on the place where it had stood.\n\nHere, too, Benedict built the first great monastery which was called\nafter him; and after this the brothers began to be known by his name,\nand were called Benedictines.\n\nBut the Evil One saw with great rage that Benedict was taking away his\nservants, and destroying his temples, and he tried in every way to\nhinder the work. Once when the workmen were trying to raise a stone\nthey found it impossible to move it, though they worked hard all day.\nAt last, in despair, they besought Benedict to come to help them.\n\nAs soon as he came he saw at once what was the matter, for on the stone\nsat a little black demon laughing at the efforts of the workmen; knowing\nthey could never move the stone while he chose to sit there.\n\n'Get you gone, messenger of Satan,' cried Benedict.\n\nAnd with a howl of rage the imp fled, and the stone was lifted easily\ninto its place.\n\nUpon a certain day, not long after the monastery was built, as Benedict\nwas praying in the chapel of the convent, one of the brothers came to\ntell him that a great company of soldiers were coming up the hill, and\nat their head was Totila, king of the Goths, who had sent a messenger\nto ask the saint to receive him.\n\nBenedict, who cared little for earthly kings, was yet too courteous\nto refuse any such request, so he went out to where the company was\ngathered on the mountain-side.\n\nThe rough soldiers stood with heads uncovered, and from their midst came\none who wore a crown and sandals of gold and a kingly robe. He knelt\nbefore the saint, and said in a loud, clear voice:\n\n'I, Totila, king of the Goths, have come to crave thy blessing, father,\nfor thy fame hath spread even to the wild north country where I reign.'\n\nThe brothers, crowding behind Benedict, eager to see these curious\nstrangers, were surprised to hear no answering words of welcome fall\nfrom the lips of the saint. And still more surprised were they when\nBenedict pointed an accusing finger at the glittering crown that shone\non the king's head, and said:\n\n'Why dost thou bear upon thy head the sign of royalty which belongs not\nto thy station? And why have thy lips framed this deceit? Go to thy\nmaster, and bid him come to me in truth, and think not that I could\nmistake a servant for a king.'\n\nAnd to the amazement of all, the real king, who had disguised his\narmour-bearer to test the power of the saint, came quickly forward,\nand with no royal robe or golden crown, knelt low before the saint,\nconfessing all, and praying to be forgiven. He was sure now that this\nwas indeed a servant of God, and he listened humbly while Benedict\nreproved him for his many sins, and warned him of the fate that\nawaited him.\n\nAnd so the years passed on, bringing much honour and earthly renown\nto him who had once lived a lonely boy upon the wild mountain-side.\n\nThings had changed since those early days. He could no longer live quite\nalone as he had once loved to do, for the world had followed him even\ninto the wilderness. But his heart was as pure and his purpose as strong\nas when he was a lonely boy seeking only to serve God.\n\nPerhaps the one great pleasure of his earthly life was the yearly visit\nhe paid to his sister Scholastica, who had for many years come to live\nnear him. She had formed a little company of nuns, who strove to live as\nthe brothers were living, working and praying and denying themselves all\nearthly pleasures.\n\nAnd as it was a great delight to Benedict to visit his sister, so to\nScholastica the day of his coming was the happiest day of all the year.\nThe only thing that grieved her was that the golden hours of that bright\nday seemed to fly faster than any other, while she listened to his words\nof counsel and advice, and told him all her troubles.\n\nAs it drew near the time for one of these yearly visits, Scholastica\nbegan to long for her brother as she had never longed before. Something\ntold her that these bright summer days were to be the last she should\nspend on earth; and the longing to see and talk to her brother grew\nalmost more than she could bear.\n\nAnd when he came the hours slipped past even faster than was their wont,\nand before she could realise it the time had come for him to go. There\nwas so much still to say, and she needed his help so sorely, that she\nprayed him to wait a few hours longer. But Benedict was persuaded that\nit was his duty to set off, and duty to him ever came before all else.\nHe gently told her it could not be; that he must return to the brothers\nthat night.\n\nBut while he spoke, Scholastica was not listening to his words, nor\nheeding what he said. With her whole heart she was praying God that He\nwould grant her this one request, and prevent her brother from leaving\nher so soon.\n\nAnd as she prayed the light suddenly died out of the sky, great clouds\narose and, before Benedict could set out, a terrible storm began to\nrage. The thunder pealed overhead, the hail came down in a blinding\nshower, and it was impossible for any one to leave the shelter of the\nhouse.\n\nThus God answered the prayer of Scholastica, filling her heart with\nthankfulness. And afterwards the heart of Benedict was also filled with\ngratitude, for not many days later he saw in a vision the soul of his\nsister flying like a white dove up to heaven's gate, and he knew he\nshould see her on earth no more.\n\nBenedict had lived a long, hard life, eating but little, suffering cold,\nand denying himself in all things. But though his spirit only grew\nstronger and brighter as time went on, his body was worn out, and at last\nhe prepared to lay it aside, as men lay aside the worn-out robe which\nhas grown thread-bare.\n\nAnd as he had longed to live alone, so, when death came, he prayed to\nbe carried to the little chapel, and there to be left before the altar\nalone with God. Thus Benedict the Blessed went home at last, leaving his\ntired body in God's house, while his spirit returned to God who gave it.\n\n[Illustration: A TERRIBLE STORM BEGAN TO RAGE.]\n\n\n\n\nSAINT CHRISTOPHER\n\n\nLong ago in a far distant land there lived a boy called Offero. He was\ntaller and stronger and braver than any of his companions, and he was\ncalled Offero, which means bearer, because he could carry the heaviest\nburdens on his broad shoulders, without stooping under their weight. His\nwas the grandest kind of strength too, for it was not only strength of\nbody, but strength of heart and soul besides.\n\nAs Offero grew into manhood he began to tire of being first only in\ngames and play, and he longed to use his strength for some real end,\nfeeling sure there was work in the world waiting for his hand.\n\nSometimes as he strode across the olive-clad hills, and felt the wind in\nhis hair, and drew in great breaths of life and strength, he would see\nbefore him a dim vision of some great purpose, ever beckoning him on,\nand in his ear a voice would sound, that bade him use his strength only\nfor the highest.\n\nNight and day Offero thought upon the vision, and it seemed to him that\nits meaning was that he should go out into the world and do a man's\nwork. And, since for him the highest meant strength and fearlessness, he\nvowed that he would search until he found the bravest and strongest king\nand would take service only with him.\n\nSo Offero set out and, after many weary wanderings, he came to the gates\nof a great city. Here, in a palace built of alabaster, lived one whom\nthe people called the greatest king on earth. He had more soldiers and\nhorsemen and chariots than any other monarch, and the banner of crimson\nand gold that floated over the palace roof, had never been lowered in\nthe face of any foe.\n\nBut Offero scarcely noticed all the glitter and splendour of the palace,\nor the crowd of waiting men. He was only eager to see the king, whom\nevery one said was as brave and strong as a lion. No one stopped him as\nhe strode on. Even the royal guards at the palace door stood back to let\nhim pass. He was dusty and travel-stained, and his armour was dull and\ndinted by many a hard blow, but there was that in his walk and in his\neyes, and the grasp of his great hand upon his sword, that made every\none fall back to let him pass.\n\nThe king was seated upon his throne making wise laws for his people,\nwhen Offero entered the audience hall. Straight to the steps of the\nthrone he went, and kneeling there placed his sword at the king's\nfeet and offered to be his true servant. For a moment the king looked\nin wonder and astonishment at this giant, and the great sword that\nstretched along the widest step of his ivory throne. Then with a look of\npride at the strength of the man kneeling at his feet, he bade Offero\nrise and use his sword henceforth only in the king's service.\n\nSo Offero became the king's servant, and not one of the king's enemies\ncould stand against him. Wherever there was danger to be met or fighting\nto be done, there he was ever to be found, and he made his master's name\nmore feared and honoured than that of any other monarch in the world.\nHis work filled all his time and thoughts, and the vision he had seen\ngrew so dim that it had nearly faded from his memory, when one night\na minstrel came to the court.\n\nThis minstrel had a harp of gold and his fingers woke the sweetest music\nfrom the golden strings, but sweeter than all was his voice as he sang\nof brave deeds and mighty battles, the wisdom of the wise and the\ncourage of the strong.\n\nThe heart of Offero was charmed by the music as he sat idly among the\nrest of the courtiers, listening in the great audience chamber.\n\nBut as the minstrel sang, Offero noticed that the king looked disturbed\nand once or twice made a strange sign with his hand when a certain evil\nname was repeated in the song. It almost seemed to Offero as if at such\ntimes a look of fear came into his eyes.\n\nWaiting behind the rest when the minstrel was gone, Offero looked\ngravely into the king's eyes and said:\n\n'My liege, wilt thou tell thy servant, why thou didst make that sign\nupon thy forehead and what the look that came into thine eyes may\nmean--thou who fearest no man?'\n\nThen the king answered Offero saying:\n\n'That sign is the sign of the cross, and I make it upon my brow whenever\nI hear the name of Satan, the Evil Spirit, because I fear him, and because\nthat sign alone can protect me from him.'\n\nAnd Offero bowed his head, and standing there before the king he\nanswered sadly:\n\n'Fare thee well, O my king, for I may not serve thee longer. I have\npromised only to serve the greatest and one who feared nothing, so I\nmust e'en seek this Evil Spirit. If thou fearest him, must he not be\nmore powerful than thou?'\n\nSo Offero went sorrowfully out of the king's presence, and away from the\nsplendid court and the fair city. And as he went the vision which of\nlate had faded from him grew clearer, and seemed to beckon him on and\non. And the voice that of old sounded in his ears spoke to him once\nmore, so that his heart became light and his purpose grew strong.\n\nNow after many days of toilsome wanderings, Offero came at last to\nthe skirt of a great dark wood. The pines were so thick that never a\nsunbeam could pierce through their tops, and the trunks of the trees\ncould only just be seen ghostly grey in the everlasting twilight that\nreigned there.\n\nDeeper and darker grew the wood as Offero went on, until he came to the\ndarkest part of all, and there he found the Evil Spirit and his court.\n\nOffero could see nothing clearly in the gloom, but one great shadow\nstood out, bigger and stronger than any of the other shadows that\nflitted about, and on its brow was the outline of a kingly crown.\n\n'What seekest thou here?' asked the Evil One, in a deep strong voice,\nlike the roar of distant thunder.\n\n'I seek to serve the greatest and strongest king on earth, and one who\nknows no fear,' answered Offero.\n\n'Then is thy quest ended,' said the shadowy king, with uplifted head and\nproud gesture, 'for I indeed am the greatest king of all, and I know not\nwhat that word fear meaneth.'\n\nSo Offero became one of the servants of the King of Evil, and his work\nwas heavy and his wages light. But that seemed but a small matter to\nhim, if only he had indeed found the highest.\n\nTime passed on until there came a day when the Evil One rode out with\nall his servants and Offero at their head. And as they passed out of the\nwood they came to a cross set up by the wayside. It was only a rough\ncross of wood, standing out clear against the sky, the grass beneath\nworn by those who had knelt before it, and a bunch of wild flowers laid\nat its foot by some grateful hand. But when the eye of the Evil One fell\nupon it, he shuddered and, turning quickly round, plunged back into the\nwood, followed by all his servants. And Offero saw he was trembling from\nhead to foot.\n\n'Stop,' cried Offero, barring his way, for he was not afraid even of the\ngreat Shadow upon the fierce black horse. 'I would fain know what this\nmeaneth, ere we go further. Didst thou not say thou wert stronger than\nall and feared nothing? and lo! thou tremblest like a child before a\npiece of crossed wood.'\n\n'It is not the cross I fear,' answered the Evil One, 'but Him who once\nhung upon it.'\n\n'And who is He that you should tremble at the very thought of Him?'\nasked Offero. 'Is He a greater and stronger king than thou?'\n\n'He is greater, and He is stronger,' answered Satan, 'and He is the only\none I fear.'\n\nThen Offero rode away from the dark wood and the evil company, out into\nthe sunshine and light. And as he looked at the blue sky, and felt the\nwarmth of the blessed sunshine once more, the vision seemed to rise\nagain before his eyes, ever beckoning him onward, and in his ear the\nsame voice sounded, bidding him seek on, until he should indeed find the\nhighest.\n\nFar and near did Offero wander, asking all he met if they could tell him\nwhere he might find the Christ--this man who once hung upon a cross and\nwho was greater and more powerful even than Satan, the King of Evil. And\nsome said one thing and some another, but no one could aid him in his\nquest, until at last in his wanderings he came to a little hut in the\nmidst of a desert.\n\nHere a holy man dwelt, with no living soul near him, serving God day\nand night.\n\nMost gladly did he welcome Offero, but gladder still was he when Offero\neagerly asked him the question that had been upon his lips so long:\n\n'Good hermit, canst thou tell me where I may find the King called\nChrist, He who once hung upon a cross, and who is stronger even than the\nKing of Evil?'\n\n'That can I,' answered the hermit, 'for He is the Master whom I serve,\nand in His name thou art welcome indeed.'\n\nAnd taking Offero into his hut, the hermit gave him food and made him\nrest. Then in the cool of the evening, when the red sun was sinking\nbehind the belt of distant palm-trees, and a mellow glow turned the\nsands of the desert into grains of gold, the hermit sat without the hut\nand told the wonderful Christ story to the listening ears of the giant\nwho lay upon the ground at his feet.\n\nNever had Offero heard words like these before. Even the vision had\nnot prepared him for this. With all his soul in his eyes he listened.\nFilled with wonder was he at the thought that the King of all heaven\nshould have deigned to come to earth in the form of a little helpless\nchild. But as the hermit went on and told of His power and majesty,\nHis infinite compassion for the weak and helpless, His courage and\nfearlessness in the face of His foes, ending with the great sacrifice\nof the cross, Offero sprang to his feet, and grasping his sword in his\nhand, he raised it to heaven and vowed he would be Christ's faithful\nsoldier and servant unto his life's end, and would fight under no other\nbanner but His, the King of Heaven and Earth.\n\nThe hermit was startled as he looked at the gleaming sword, upheld by\nthat strong arm, and in his calm, kind voice, he said:\n\n'My son, the Lord Christ seeketh not to be served as an earthly king.\nHis soldiers fight not with earthly swords, but with the weapons of\nprayer and fasting.'\n\n'But, father,' said Offero, 'how can I fight with weapons I know nothing\nof? If He has given me this great strength, surely there must be a way\nthat He would have me use it in His service.'\n\nThen the hermit was troubled, for he saw that Offero must needs serve\nChrist in some other way.\n\nAll night he pondered, and in the morning he bade Offero come with him,\nand together they journeyed forth for many days until they came to the\nbanks of a river. There the hermit stayed his steps.\n\nIt was a very deep and dangerous river and, because there was no bridge\nacross it and the current was strong, many travellers lost their lives\nin trying to ford it.\n\nThis the hermit told Offero, and bade him stay and watch there, so that\nhe might help those who wished to cross, and save the lives of those who\nmight otherwise perish without his aid.\n\n'And in helping others,' said the hermit, 'thou wilt be helping Christ,\nand it may be He will accept thy service, and will one day come unto\nthee and take thee for His servant.'\n\nSo Offero built a hut on the river bank, and pulling up a palm-tree that\nwas growing there, he used it as a staff to lean upon when he waded\nthrough the deep water. He was so tall and strong that no matter how\nhigh the river rose he could always wade across it. He was ever ready to\nhelp the weary footsore travellers, and often when they were too weak to\nstand against the current, even with the support of his strong arm, he\nwould take them up upon his broad shoulders and carry them safely across.\n\nFor a long time did Offero live in his little hut on the river-bank,\ndoing his work well, in the hope that his Master might come to him as\nthe hermit had promised. But weeks and months went by, and still the\nKing did not come, and Offero began to fear that He never would pass\nthat way.\n\nThen one night a terrible storm began to rage. The wind howled round\nthe lonely little hut, and the waters roared as they rushed past in the\ndarkness.\n\n'I need not watch to-night,' thought Offero, 'for no one will seek to\ncross the river in such a storm as this.'\n\nBut as he sat listening to the roll of the thunder and the clashing of\nthe hail on the roof, he fancied he heard, above the noise of the storm,\na little voice crying outside and a faint knocking at the door.\n\nIt sounded like the cry of a child, and Offero hastily rose up and,\nunbarring the door, looked out. For a moment he could see nothing in\nthe thick darkness and blinding rain, but presently he heard the cry\nagain, sounding quite close to where he stood, and looking down he saw\nsomething small and white, and heard the little voice sounding clear\nabove the storm:\n\n'Kind Offero, wilt thou carry me across the river to-night?'\n\nThen Offero saw it was a little child who was standing out there upon\nthe threshold--a child who looked up at him with pleading eyes, his\ngolden curls lying wet against his cheek, and his little white robe\ndrenched with the driving rain.\n\nVery tenderly Offero stooped down and lifted the little one in his kind,\nstrong arms, and asked him how it came that he was out alone on such a\nstormy night.\n\n'I must cross the river to-night,' said the child in his soft, clear\nvoice, 'and the water is deep and I am afraid. I saw thy hut and thought\nperchance one might dwell here who would help me.'\n\n'That will I gladly do,' said Offero, as he felt the little arms\nclinging round his neck. 'The night is dark, and the river runs high\nindeed, but thou art such a tiny child, I shall scarcely feel thy\nweight. I will place thee high upon my shoulder, so that the water may\nnot reach even thy feet.'\n\nSo Offero took his great staff in his hand, and placed the child upon\nhis shoulder and stepped down into the roaring flood.\n\nHigher and higher rose the water, stronger and stronger grew the\ncurrent, as Offero waded on. Never before had his strength been put to\nsuch a test. And not only did the torrent threaten to sweep him off his\nfeet, but the child upon his shoulder seemed to grow heavier and heavier\nwith every step, until he could scarcely stagger on under the tremendous\nweight. But on he went, fighting for each step. And now he was past\nthe worst and into the shallower water beyond. Putting forth all his\nremaining strength, with one last great effort he struggled up the\nfarther side and with a sigh of relief he climbed upon the bank, and\ngently set the little child upon the grass.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHILD UPON HIS SHOULDER SEEMED TO GROW HEAVIER.]\n\nThen Offero stood looking at him in great wonder and astonishment and\nsaid:\n\n'How is it that thou, who seemest but a feather-weight, hast yet become\nheavier than any burden I ever bore in all my life before?'\n\nAnd as Offero spoke, the child looked up into his face, and lo! a\nstrange light seemed to shine round the golden head, and his white robe\nbecame bright and glistening as the light. And the wonderful look of\nmajesty in those eyes drew Offero down to his knees. And as he knelt\nthere, scarce daring to lift his eyes before that wonderful gaze, he\nheard the sweet, clear voice of the little child again, and knew it for\nthe same that had guided him since the vision of his boyhood.\n\n'No wonder that I seemed to thee a heavy burden, for I bear upon my\nshoulders the sins and sorrows of the whole world. I am Christ, whom\nthou hast sought to serve. I came to thee in the form of a little\nhelpless child, that I might prove thee, if thou wert indeed my faithful\nservant. And because thou hast been faithful in helping others, thou\nshalt be counted worthy to enter my service, and I will give thee\nthe new name of Christopher, because thou hast borne Christ upon thy\nshoulders. Take now thy staff and strike it into the earth, and thou\nshalt know by a sign that I am indeed thy King.'\n\nThen the light faded away, and the child was gone. But where Christopher\nstruck his staff, behold, it took root and budded out into leaves of\ntender green.\n\nAnd Christopher knelt on there in the darkness with a great joy in his\nheart, for he had seen the face of his King, and had found his Master at\nlast. He knew that his search was ended, and that henceforth he would\nserve only the highest. And all the trouble and perplexity had vanished\naway, for he understood now that in ministering to others he would\nalways be serving his King, even if the work seemed but small and mean.\n\nSo Christopher learned to be Christ's true soldier and servant even unto\ndeath, and because he fought manfully under His banner unto his life's\nend, he is called a saint. His old name of Offero has been long\nforgotten, and we know him only by that new name which the Christ-child\ngave him that stormy night, and call him Saint Christopher.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT CATHERINE OF SIENA\n\n\nAs the years pass by Father Time makes many changes in the busy town and\nquiet country, but there are some places he seems to have forgotten or\npassed over so lightly that they look very much the same to-day as they\ndid hundreds of years ago.\n\nOne of these places, which Time has dealt so gently with, is in the\nheart of Italy, built high upon a hill. It is a town whose towers and\npalaces and steep, narrow streets are little changed from what they were\nfive hundred and more years ago, when Catherine, the saint of Siena, was\nborn there.\n\nTo-day if you climb the steep winding road that leads up to the city,\nand make your way through the gates and along the steepest of the narrow\nstreets, you will come to a house with a motto written over the door in\ngolden letters--'Sposae Christi Katharinae domus,' which means 'The house\nof Katherine, the bride of Christ.' And if you go in you will see the\nvery room where Saint Catherine used to live, the bed of planks on which\nshe slept, her little chapel, and the rooms which her brothers and\nsisters used.\n\nIt all looks just as it did when Benincasa, the dyer of Siena, lived\nthere with his wife Lapa. They had more than twenty children, but each\none was welcome, and when at last Catherine and a twin sister were born,\nthere still did not seem one too many. The little sister lived only a\nfew days, and perhaps that made the parents love Catherine all the more,\nand it was not only her own family who loved her. She was the favourite\nof all the neighbours, and however busy they were they would always find\ntime to stop and talk to her as they passed. It was not that she was\nvery beautiful, or even very clever, but she had a way of making every\none feel happy when she was near them, and she had the sunniest smile\nthat ever dimpled a baby's face. It was like a sunbeam, lighting up\neverything near it, and it shone in her eyes as well, so that ere long\nthe people found a new name for her, and called her 'Joy' instead of\nCatherine.\n\nAs soon as she could walk alone, Catherine would wander away, sure of\na welcome at every house, and though at first when the other children\ncried, 'The baby is lost again!' the mother would be anxious, she soon\nceased to mind, and only said, 'She is sure to be safe somewhere.'\n\nAnd safe she always was, for every one would stop work to look after her\nas she toddled along, and wherever she went Joy carried the sunshine\nwith her.\n\nIt happened that one afternoon when Catherine was about six years old,\nher mother sent her and an elder brother, Stephen, to carry a message to\na house some way off. It was a beautiful evening, and as the children\nwent hand in hand down the steep street and up the hill towards the\ngreat church of Saint Dominic, Catherine stopped a moment to look at\nthe sunset. She always loved beautiful colours, and to-night the little\nfleecy clouds were all touched with crimson and gold, like fairy islands\nin a pale green sea, more beautiful than anything she had ever seen.\n\nStephen did not care for sunsets. He was much more anxious to be home\nin time for supper, so he ran on alone, calling to Catherine to follow\nquickly.\n\nCatherine did not seem to hear his voice or to notice that he was gone,\nbut stood there with eyes fixed on the sunset, her face shining, and her\nhair like a halo of gold round her head.\n\nIt was not the evening sky she was looking at, but a vision of heavenly\nbeauty. For there among the rose-pink clouds she saw the Madonna seated\nupon a throne and holding in her arms the infant Christ. It was no\nlonger the poor Madonna of the stable, but the Queen of Heaven, her\ndazzling robe blue as the summer sky, and a jewelled crown upon her\nhead. Only the same sweet mother-look was there as when she bent\nover the manger-bed. There are no words to tell of the beauty of the\nChrist-child's face. Catherine only knew that as He looked at her He\nsmiled and held up His little hand as if in blessing, and that smile\ndrew her heart to His feet.\n\nThen suddenly Catherine's arm was roughly shaken and her brother asked\nher impatiently at what she was gazing.\n\n'O Stephen,' she cried, 'did you not see it too? Look!'\n\nBut the vision had faded, and the grey twilight closed in upon the\ntwo little figures as they went slowly home, the boy vexed with his\nloitering sister, and she sobbing with disappointment to think that the\nwindow in heaven was shut, and that she might never again look within.\n\nAs Catherine grew older, she never forgot the vision she had seen, or\nhow the hand of the Christ-child had been stretched out to bless her.\nAnd it made her think often how she could best please Him, so that some\nday He might smile on her again.\n\nCatherine had heard a great deal about the good men who went to live in\ndeserts to be alone with God,--how they lived in caves and had scarcely\nanything to eat, and how God would sometimes send the ravens to bring\nthem food. Now she was always fond of wandering, and the idea of living\nin a desert seemed a beautiful way of serving Christ. She had never gone\nbeyond the walls of the town, and all outside was a new world to her; so\nshe was sure if only she could pass through the city gates, she would\nsoon find her way to the desert, where there would certainly be a cave\nready for her to live in.\n\nSo one day Catherine set out very early in the morning, carrying in her\npocket a small loaf of bread, just in case the ravens should forget to\ncome to a little girl-hermit.\n\nIn those days it was not safe to live outside the city walls, and there\nwere no farms nor houses to be seen as Catherine slipped through the\ngates and began to find her way down the hillside, among tangled briars\nand over rough stones. Soon her feet grew very tired, and everything\nlooked so forlorn and wild that she was sure this must be the desert at\nlast, and there, too, was a little cave in the rocks waiting all ready\nfor her.\n\nIt was very nice to creep in and out of the hot sunshine into the cool\nshade, and to rest until the sun went down. But as night came on and she\nknelt to say her evening prayer, she began to think of home, and the\nkind mother waiting there, and she knew she had done wrong to come away,\neven though she had meant to serve God.\n\nVery quickly she left her cave, and as she ran home her feet seemed to\nfly over the ground. The desert had not been so very far away after all,\nand she reached the house before her mother had begun to grow anxious,\nbut she never again wandered away to live a hermit's life.\n\nAs Catherine grew older she loved to listen to the stories of the\nsaints, and there was one she was never tired of hearing. It was the\nlife of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, the saint whose name she bore.\n\nThis young queen was said to be the wisest and noblest of all the\nsaints, and when her courtiers wished her to marry, she said she would\nonly marry a prince who was perfect in every way. Such a prince was of\ncourse impossible to find, but one night a poor old hermit had a vision\nin which the Madonna came to him and told him that our Blessed Lord, the\nonly perfect Man, would accept the love of the young queen's heart and\nthe service of her hands. And when the queen knew this her joy was great,\nand that very night the Virgin mother came to her in a cloud of glory\nsurrounded by angels bearing crowns of lilies, and in her arms was the\nHoly Child, who smiled on the queen and placed a ring upon her finger,\nas a sign that she belonged to Him.\n\nThe more Catherine thought about this story the more she longed that\nChrist would accept her heart and service too. And one night in a dream\nHe seemed to come to her, just as He had come to the other Catherine,\nplacing a ring upon her finger and bidding her remember that now she had\ngiven her heart to Him.\n\nThus it was a great trouble to Catherine when she was told by her\nparents soon after this that she was old enough to begin to think of\nmarriage. She said she did not wish to marry at all. But this only made\nher parents angry with her, especially when one day they found she had\ncut off all her beautiful golden hair, thinking to make herself so ugly\nthat no one would want her for his wife.\n\n'Very well,' said her father, 'if thou wilt not marry as I bid thee,\nthen shalt thou do the house-work and be our servant.'\n\nHe expected this would be a great punishment, but Catherine was glad\nto have hard work to do, and did it so well and cheerfully that her\nfather began to feel his anger melt away. Then it happened one day that\nin passing her room he looked in, and there he saw her kneeling with\nclasped hands and upturned face, and eyes in which the peace of heaven\nshone, while around her head was a bright light that took the form of\na snow-white dove resting there.\n\n[Illustration: THE HOLY CHILD PLACED A RING UPON HER FINGER.]\n\nFrom that moment he ceased to be angry with Catherine, and said all\nshould be as she wished, for surely the dove was a sign that God\naccepted her prayers and approved of what she did.\n\nSo she was allowed to have a little room which She made into a chapel\nwhere she could be alone to think and to pray. She wanted to learn to\nconquer herself before she could serve Christ in the world, and for\nthree years she lived almost entirely alone, praying in the little\nchapel, struggling to overcome her faults and to grow strong to resist\ntemptation.\n\nBut in spite of all her struggles evil thoughts would come into her\nheart, and it seemed impossible to keep them out. It was easy to do\nright things, but so terribly difficult to think only pure and good\nthoughts. She knew that Satan sent the wicked thoughts into her heart,\nbut the hardest trial of all was that Christ seemed to have left her to\nfight alone--He seemed so very far away.\n\nAt last one night, as she lay sobbing in despair, suddenly the evil\nthoughts left her, and instead she felt that Christ was near and that\nHe bent tenderly over her.\n\n'Why, oh why didst Thou leave me so long, dear Lord?' she cried.\n\n'I never left thee,' His voice said quietly.\n\n'But where wert Thou, Lord, when all was so dark and evil?' she humbly\nasked.\n\n'I was in thy heart,' replied the voice; 'didst thou not hate the evil\nthoughts? If I had not been there thou wouldst not have felt how black\nthey were, but because I was in the midst they seemed to thee most evil,\nand thus I gave thee strength to cast them out.'\n\nSo Catherine's heart was filled with peace, and she learned to love\nChrist more and more, and to deny herself in every way, sleeping on bare\nplanks with a log for her pillow, and eating the things she cared for\nleast.\n\nIt was not that she thought these things good in themselves, but she\nfelt she must use every means to make her heart pure and fit to serve\nher Master.\n\nAnd before very long Christ spoke to her again in the stillness of the\nnight, and told her she had lived long enough alone, that it was time\nnow to go out into the world and help other people to grow good too.\n\nWhen Catherine thought of the busy, noisy life which other people led,\ncompared to the quiet peacefulness of her little cell and chapel, she\nwas very sad, and thought she had offended God that He was sending her\naway from Him to mix with the world again. But His voice sounded in her\nears once more, and told her it was not to separate her from Himself\nthat He sent her out, but that she should learn to help others.\n\n'Thou knowest that love giveth two commandments--to love Me, and to love\nthy neighbour. I desire that thou shouldst walk not on one but two feet,\nand fly to heaven on two wings.'\n\nSo Christ spoke to her, and Catherine with fearful heart prepared to\nobey, only praying that He would give her strength to do His will.\nAnd after that her life was spent in doing good to others.\n\nThe smile that used to lighten her face when she was a little child\nhad still the power of bringing peace and gladness to all, as she went\namongst the poor, nursing the sick, helping every one in trouble, and\nteaching people more by her life than her words to love God.\n\nAnd as, when she was a baby, they called her Joy, so now again they\nfound a new name for her, and she was known as 'the child of the\npeople.' In every kind of trouble they came to her, even asking her to\nsettle their quarrels, so that she was the peacemaker as well as the\nhelper of the whole town.\n\nThere was one special reason why people loved Catherine, and that was\nbecause she always saw the best that was in them. She knew there was\ngood in every one, no matter how it was dimmed or hidden by the evil\nthat wrapped it round. Where other eyes saw only evil temper or wicked\nspite, she looked beyond until she found some good that she could love.\nEvery day she prayed to God that He would help her to see the beauty in\neach soul, so that she might help it to get rid of the sin that dimmed\nits beauty. And so, because she looked for good in every one, all showed\nher what was best in themselves, and for very shame would strive to be\nall that she thought them.\n\nCatherine had joined the Dominican sisterhood and wore the white robe\nand black veil, but she did not live in a convent as other sisters did.\nEvery morning when the sun began to gild the towers and roofs of the\ncity, passers-by would see her leave her home and walk up the steep\nstreet towards the church of Saint Dominic where she always went to\nearly mass.\n\nStrangers must have wondered when they saw the men uncover their heads\nas she passed, as if she had been a queen instead of a poor sister clad\nin a coarse white robe and black veil. But if they had caught sight of\nher face perhaps they would have understood, for her eyes seemed as if\nthey were looking into heaven, and the holy peace that shone in her\nsmile made men feel that she lived in the very presence of God.\n\nOne morning as she was going to church as usual in the first light of\ndawn, her thoughts far away and her lips moving in prayer, she was\nstartled by the touch of a hand upon her robe and the sound of a voice\nasking for help. She turned to look and saw a poor man leaning against\nthe wall, haggard and pale, and so weak that he could scarcely stand.\n\n'What dost thou want of me?' asked Catherine pitifully.\n\n'I only ask a little help for my journey,' the poor man said; 'my home\nis far from here, and the fever laid its hand upon me as I worked to\nprovide bread for those I love. So I pray thee, lady, give me a little\nmoney that I may buy food to strengthen me before I start.'\n\n'I would gladly help thee,' answered Catherine most sorrowfully, 'but\nI am not a lady, only a poor sister, and I have no money of my own to\ngive.'\n\nShe turned as if to go on, but the eager hand still held her cloak and\nthe man begged once more.\n\n'For Christ's sake help me, for indeed I need thy help most sorely.'\n\nThen Catherine stood still. She felt she could not leave him so. There\nwas nothing at home she could part with, for that very morning she had\ngiven away all the food that was in the house. Her father and mother\nwere good and kind, but she must not give away the things they needed.\nSorrowful and perplexed, her hand felt for the rosary which hung at her\nside, for in every trouble she ever turned in prayer to her dear Lord.\nThen as her fingers touched the beads, she suddenly remembered that here\nwas at least one thing which was her very own--a small silver crucifix\nwhich she had had since she was a child, and which she had touched so\noften as she prayed that it was worn smooth and thin.\n\nStill it was silver and would buy the sick man a meal, and she quickly\nunfastened it from the rosary and put it into his hand. The man's\nblessings followed her as she went, and though she had parted with the\nthing she loved best, she counted the blessings more precious than the\ngift.\n\nAnd as she knelt in the dim church, after the mass was over, God sent a\nheavenly vision to reward His servant.\n\nCatherine thought she stood in a great hall filled with things more\nbeautiful than words can tell, and in the midst stood our Blessed Lord,\nholding in His hand the most beautiful thing of all--a cross of beaten\ngold, set with jewels of every hue sparkling so brightly that it almost\ndazzled Catherine's eyes as she looked.\n\n'Dost thou see these shining gifts,' He asked, 'and wouldst thou know\nwhence they came? They are the noble deeds which men have done for My\nsake.'\n\nAnd Catherine kneeling there with her empty hands could only bow her\nhead and say: 'Lord, I am only a poor sister, as Thou knowest, and have\nnought to give Thee. The service I can offer could not find a place\namong these glorious gifts.'\n\nThen it seemed as if Christ smiled upon her, and holding out the golden\ncross He asked: 'Hast thou not seen this cross before, Catherine?'\n\n'No, Lord,' she answered, wondering, 'never before have mine eyes beheld\nanything so lovely.'\n\nBut as she gazed upon it, her heart was filled with a sudden gladness,\nfor in the midst of the gold and jewels, in the heart of the glorious\nlight, she saw the little worn silver crucifix which she had given to\nthe poor man that morning for the love of Christ.\n\nAnd as the vision faded there rang in her ears the words she knew so\nwell: 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these My brethren,\nye did it unto Me.'\n\nAs time went on the fame of Catherine spread to other towns, outside\nSiena, and when there were disputes between the great cities of Italy\nthey would send for Catherine, and beg her to act as peacemaker, and\nshe helped them all just as she did her own poor people of Siena. Even\nthe Pope came to her for advice.\n\nIn the midst of all this busy life Catherine fell ill. Her love for\nChrist was so real, and her sorrow for His sufferings so great, that she\nprayed that she might bear the pain that He had borne. We do not know\nhow our Lord granted her request, but in her hands and feet and side\nappeared the marks of nails and spear.\n\nAll her sufferings she bore most patiently, but her heart was glad when\nthe end came.\n\nThe same vision that had smiled on her that summer evening when she was\na child, appeared in the sunset sky again, this time never to fade away,\nas Catherine, the bride of Christ, was led by the white-robed angels up\nto the throne of our Lord.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO\n\n\nThe story of the life of Saint Augustine is different from almost\nevery other saint story, because it is taken from his own words and\nnot from what has been said about him. He wrote a wonderful book called\n_The Confessions of Saint Augustine_, and in it we find all that he\nthought and did from the time he was a little child.\n\nAugustine was born in 354 in the northern part of Africa, which then\nbelonged to Rome, and was one of the richest countries in the world. His\nmother, Monica, was a Christian, but all her prayers and loving care\ncould not keep her son from evil ways. He is often called the prodigal\nsaint, because he wandered very far astray for many years into that far\ncountry of the youngest son in the parable; living in the midst of the\nsins and evil pleasures of the world, until he learned to say, 'I will\narise and go to my father.'\n\nAnd so Augustine's story comforts and helps us when we feel how easy it\nis to do wrong, and how we fail every day to do the good things we meant\nto do. There are so few days we can mark with a white stone because we\nhave really tried to be good, and so many days we are glad to forget\nbecause of the black cross that stands against them. And yet, who knows\nbut, if we fight on to the end, we too may be saints as Augustine was,\nfor he won his crown through many failures.\n\nThe story, in Augustine's own words, begins from the time when he was\na very little baby, not from what he remembers, but from what he had\nlearned as he watched other babies in whom he saw a picture of himself.\n\nFirst of all Augustine tells of the tiny baby, who does nothing but\nsleep and eat and cry. Then the baby begins to laugh a little when he is\nawake, and very soon shows clearly his likes and dislikes, and kicks and\nbeats with his little hands when he does not get exactly what he wants.\nThen comes the time of learning to speak and walk.\n\nAfter that Augustine begins really to remember things about himself.\nFor who could ever forget the trial of first going to school? Oh, how\nAugustine hated it, and how hard it seemed to him! The lessons were so\ndifficult and the masters were so strict, and he loved play so much\nbetter than work, and when he went back to school with lessons unlearned\nand work undone, the result was of course that he was whipped. It did\nseem so unjust to him, for he could not see the use of lessons, and the\nwhippings were so sore. And in his book he tells us how it made him say\nhis first prayer to God--'I used to ask Thee, though a very little boy,\nyet with no little earnestness, that I might not be whipped at school.'\n\nAugustine could not see the reason why he should be forced to stay\nindoors and learn dull, wearisome lessons, when he might be playing in\nthe sunshine and learning new games, which seemed so much more worth\nknowing. How those games delighted him! He was always eager to be first,\nto win the victory and to be ahead of every one else. But then followed\nthe whipping at school, and the little sore body crept away and sobbed\nout the prayer from his little sore soul.\n\nHe did not understand how it could all be meant for his good. We never\nquite understand that till we have left school far behind.\n\nI wonder if we all wrote down just exactly what we felt and did when we\nwere little children, whether we would have as many things to confess as\nAugustine had? There are some faults which no one is very much ashamed\nto own because they don't seem small and mean and pitiful. But who would\nlike to confess to being greedy and stealing sweet things from the table\nwhen no one was looking? Who would care to own that he cheated at games,\ncaring only to come out first whether he had played fairly or not? Yet\nthis great saint tells us he remembers doing all these mean things and\nlooks back upon them with great sorrow. He warns other little children\nto kill these faults at the very beginning, for he knows how strong they\ngrow and how difficult to conquer, when the mean child grows into a man\nwhom no one can trust.\n\nAs time went on and he grew to be a big boy he went further and further\nastray. When he was little he stole things to eat because he was greedy\nor because he wanted to bribe other little boys to sell him their toys,\nbut now that he was older it was out of mere pride and boastfulness that\nhe took what did not belong to him. He thought it grand and manly to\nshow off to other boys how little he cared about doing wrong.\n\nAugustine tells us that in a garden near his house there was a pear-tree\ncovered with pears neither sweet nor large. But just because it belonged\nto some one else, and he thought it fun to steal, he and his companions\nwent out one dark night and robbed the tree of all its fruit. They did\nnot care to eat the pears, and after tasting one or two threw all the\nrest to the pigs. There was no particular pleasure in this he allows,\nand he would never have done it alone, but he wanted the other boys to\nadmire him and to think he was afraid of nothing.\n\nAnd so years went on and Augustine grew up into manhood, and it seemed\nas if his evil ways would break his mother's heart. Through all his sin\nand foolishness she loved him and prayed for him but he paid no heed to\nher, and wandered further away into that far country, wasting all he had\nin living wildly and forgetting the God he had prayed to when a child.\n\nOne day when Monica was weeping over this wandering son of hers and\npraying for him with all her heart, God sent a comforting dream to her\nwhich she never forgot. She thought she saw herself standing on a narrow\nwooden plank, and towards her there came a shining angel who smiled upon\nher as she stood there worn out with sorrow and weeping.\n\n'Why art thou so sad, and wherefore dost thou weep these daily tears?'\nasked the angel.\n\n'I weep over the ruin of my son,' answered the poor mother.\n\nThen the angel bade her cease from grieving and be at rest, and told her\nto look and see that on the same narrow plank of salvation where she was\nstanding Augustine stood beside her.\n\nHis mother told Augustine of this dream, and though he only laughed at\nit, it seemed to sink into his heart and he remembered it many years\nafter. And to Monica it came as a breath of hope, and comforted her\nthrough many dark days. For she was sure that God had sent this dream\nto tell her that in the end she and her son would stand together in\nHis presence.\n\nBut though Monica believed this she never ceased to do all that was in\nher power to help Augustine. And once she went to a learned bishop and\nbegged him to talk to Augustine and try what he could do. But the bishop\nwas a wise man and knew that by speaking he would do more harm than\ngood, for Augustine was proud of his unbelief and had no longing in\nhimself for better things. But Monica did not see this and could only\nimplore the bishop to try, until the good man grew vexed with her and\nsaid at last, 'I cannot help thee in this matter, but go thy way in\npeace. It cannot be that a son of such tears should perish.'\n\nAnd these words comforted Monica, as the dream had done, and made her\nsure that in the end all would be right.\n\nThe good bishop spoke truly, for after many years had passed Augustine\nbegan to be weary of his own way and to look for a higher, better life.\nHe longed to turn his face homeward, but now he had lost the way, and\nfor long he sought it with bitter tears.\n\nAt last, one day, he felt he could bear the burden of his evil life\nno longer. His sins felt like a heavy chain dragging him down in the\ndarkness, and there was no light to show him which way to turn. Taking\na roll of the scriptures he wandered out into the garden and there, as\nhe wept, he heard a voice close by chanting over and over again 'Take,\nread.' He thought it must be some game that children were playing, but\nhe could remember none that had those words in it. And then he thought\nperhaps this was a voice from heaven in answer to his prayer, telling\nhim what to do.\n\nEagerly he took the holy writings in his hand and opened them to read,\nand there he found words telling him what sort of life he should lead.\nIn a moment it all seemed clear to him. His Father was waiting to\nreceive and pardon him; so he arose and left the far country and all his\nevil habits and turned his face to God.\n\nAnd then he tells how he went straight to his mother--the mother who had\nloved and believed in him through all those evil days, and he told her\nlike a little child how sorry he was at last.\n\nThen, indeed, was Monica's mourning turned into joy, and so at her\nlife's end she and her son sat hand in hand, both looking up towards the\ndawning heaven; he with eyes ashamed but full of hope, and she with tears\nall washed away, and eyes that shone with more than earthly joy.\n\nWhen his mother at last died and left him alone, Augustine did not\ngrieve, for he knew the parting was not for long. All that was left for\nhim to do now was to strive to make good those years he had wasted, and\nbe more fit to meet her when God should call him home.\n\nAnd so it came to pass that this great sinner became one of God's saints\nand did a wonderful work for Him in the world. He was made Bishop of\nHippo, and was one of the most famous bishops the world has ever known.\n\nThere is one legend told of Augustine which has comforted many hearts\nwhen puzzling questions have arisen and it has seemed so difficult to\nunderstand all the Bible teaches us about our Father in heaven.\n\nThey say that once when this great father of the Church was walking\nalong by the seashore, troubled and perplexed because he could not\nunderstand many things about God, he came upon a little child playing\nthere alone. The child had digged a hole in the sand and was carefully\nfilling it with water which he brought from the sea in a spoon. The\nbishop stopped and watched him for a while and then he asked:\n\n'What art thou doing, my child?'\n\n'I mean to empty the sea into my hole,' answered the child, busily going\nbackwards and forwards with his spoon.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHILD HAD DIGGED A HOLE IN THE SAND.]\n\n'But that is impossible,' said the bishop.\n\n'Not more impossible than that thy human mind should understand the mind\nof God,' said the child, gazing upwards at him with grave, sweet eyes.\n\nAnd before the bishop could answer the child had vanished, and the saint\nknew that God had sent him as an answer to his troubled thoughts, and as\na rebuke for his trying to understand the things that only God could\nknow.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT AUGUSTINE OF CANTERBURY\n\n\nIt was market-day in the great city of Rome, and the people were busy\nbuying and selling and shouting, just as they do to-day with us, when\nmarket-day comes round. But there was a great difference between this\nRoman market and ours, a difference which would have seemed to us\nstrange and cruel. For instead of sheep and oxen, or green vegetables\nfrom the country, they were selling men and boys, and even little\nmaidens. There in the great market-place, with the sun beating down on\ntheir bare heads, they stood, looking with dull, despairing eyes, or\nwith frightened glances at the crowds of buyers and sellers who were\nbargaining around.\n\nSuddenly a hush fell on the crowd, and a stately figure was seen\ncrossing the square. People stood aside and bent their heads in\nreverence as Gregory passed by, for he was Abbot of a great monastery in\nRome, and was much beloved even by the rough Roman soldiers. He walked\nswiftly as if he did not care to linger in the market-place, for it\ngrieved his gentle heart to see the suffering of the slaves when he\ncould do nothing to help them.\n\nBut suddenly the crowd seemed to divide in front of him, and he stopped\nin wonder at the sight which met his eyes. It was only a group of little\nfair-haired English boys who had been captured in the wars, and carried\noff to be sold as slaves in the Roman market. But Gregory had never seen\nanything like them before. All around were dark-eyed, swarthy-faced\nItalians, or darker-skinned slaves from Africa, and these boys with\ntheir sunny, golden hair, fair faces, and eyes blue as the sky overhead,\nseemed to him creatures from a different world.\n\n'Whence come these children, and what name do they bear?' asked the\nbishop of a man who stood beside him.\n\n'From a savage island far over the sea,' he answered, 'and men call\nthem Angles.'\n\nThen the kind bishop looked with pitying eyes upon the beautiful\nchildren, and said to himself, as he turned to go: 'They should be\ncalled not Angles, but angels.'\n\nThe sight of those boys, so strong and fearless and beautiful, made\nGregory think a great deal about the little island of Britain, far away\nacross the sea, from whence they had come. He knew the people who lived\nthere were a fierce, warlike race, having a strange religion of their\nown, and that very few of them were Christians. But he knew, too, that\nthough they were hard to conquer, and difficult to teach, still they\nwere a people worth teaching, and he longed to win them to the side of\nChrist and to show them how to serve the true God.\n\nIn those days people in Italy knew very little about that far-away\nisland, and it seemed to them as difficult and dangerous to go to\nEngland as it would seem to us if we were asked to go to the wildest\npart of Africa. True there were no lions nor tigers in England, but the\ntall, fair-haired giants who lived there were as savage as they were\nbrave, and might be even worse to deal with than the wild beasts of\nother lands.\n\nSo it may well be believed that when Saint Gregory, who was now Pope\nof Rome, chose forty monks and sent them on a mission to this distant\nisland, they were not very anxious to go, and set out in fear and\ntrembling.\n\nBut at their head was one who knew no fear and who was willing to face\nany dangers in the service of his Master. This man was Augustine, a monk\nof Rome, whom Gregory had chosen to lead the mission, knowing that his\ncourage would strengthen the others, and his wisdom would guide them\naright.\n\nIt took many long days and nights of travel to reach the coast where\nthey were to find a ship to carry them across to Britain, and before\nthey had gone very far, the forty monks were inclined to turn back in\ndespair. From every side they heard such terrible tales of the savage\nislanders they were going to meet, that their hearts, never very\ncourageous, were filled with terror, and they refused to go further.\nNothing that Augustine could say would persuade them to go on, and they\nwould only agree that he should go back to Rome and bear their prayers\nto Saint Gregory, imploring him not to force them to face such horrible\ndanger. If Augustine would do this they promised to wait his return and\nto do then whatever the Pope ordered.\n\nThey had not to wait many days, for Augustine speedily brought back\nthe Pope's answer to their request. His dark face glowed and his eyes\nshone with the light of victory, as he read to them the letter which\nSaint Gregory had sent. There was to be no thought of going back. Saint\nGregory's words were few, but decisive. 'It is better not to begin\na work than to turn back as soon as danger threatens; therefore, my\nbeloved sons, go forward by the help of our Lord.'\n\nSo they obeyed, and with Augustine at their head once more set out,\nhardly hoping to escape the perils of the journey, and expecting, if\nthey did arrive, to be speedily put to death by the savage islanders.\n\nPerhaps the worst trial of all was when they set sail from France and\nsaw the land fading away in the distance. In front there was nothing\nto be seen but angry waves and a cold, grey sky, and they seemed to be\ndrifting away from the country of sunshine and safety into the dark\nregion of uncertainty and danger. Nay, the island, whose very name was\nterrible to them, was nowhere to be seen, and seemed all the more\nhorrible because it was wrapped in that mysterious grey mist.\n\nBut though they did not know it, they had really nothing to fear from\nthe island people, for the queen of that part of England where they\nlanded was a Christian, and had taught the King Ethelbert to show mercy\nand kindness. So when the company of cold, shivering monks came ashore\nthey were met with a kind and courteous welcome, and instead of enemies\nthey found friends.\n\nThe king himself came to meet them, and he ordered the little band of\nforeigners to be brought before him, that he might learn their errand.\nHe did not receive them in any hall or palace, but out in the open air,\nfor it seemed safer there, in case these strangers should be workers of\nmagic or witchcraft.\n\nIt must have been a strange scene when the forty monks, with Augustine\nat their head, walked in procession up from the beach to the broad\ngreen meadow where the king and his soldiers waited for them. The tall,\nfair-haired warriors who stood around, sword in hand, ready to defend\ntheir king, must have looked with surprise at these black-robed men with\nshaven heads and empty hands. They carried no weapons of any sort, and\nthey seemed to bear no banner to tell men whence they came. Only the\nforemost monks carried on high a silver cross and the picture of a\ncrucified Man, and instead of shouts and war-cries there was the sound\nof a melodious chant sung by many voices, yet seeming as if sung by one.\n\nThen Augustine stood out from among the company of monks and waited for\nthe king to speak.\n\n'Who art thou, and from whence have come these men who are with thee?'\nasked the king. Methinks thou comest in peace, else wouldst thou have\ncarried more deadly weapons than a silver charm and a painted sign.\nI fain would know the reason of thy visit to this our island.'\n\nSlowly Augustine began to tell the story of their pilgrimage and the\nmessage they had brought. So long he spoke that the sun began to sink\nand the twilight fell over the silent sea that lay stretched out beyond\nthe meadow where they sat before his story was done.\n\nThe king bent forward, thoughtfully weighing the words he had heard, and\nlooking into the faces of these strange messengers of peace. At length\nhe spoke, and the weary monks and stalwart warriors listened eagerly to\nhis words.\n\n'Thou hast spoken well,' he said to Augustine, 'and it may be there is\ntruth in what thou sayest. But a man does not change his religion in an\nhour. I will hear more of this. But meanwhile ye shall be well cared\nfor, and all who choose may listen to your message.'\n\nThose were indeed welcome words to the company of poor tired monks, and\nwhen the kindly islanders, following their king's example, made them\nwelcome and gave them food and shelter, they could well echo the words\nof Saint Gregory in the Roman market: 'These are not Angles but angels.'\n\nAnd soon King Ethelbert gave the little company a house of their own,\nand allowed them to build up the ancient church at Canterbury, which had\nfallen into ruins. There they lived as simply and quietly as they had\ndone in their convent in Italy, praying day and night for the souls of\nthese heathen people, and teaching them, as much by their lives as their\nwords, that it was good to serve the Lord Christ.\n\nAnd before very long the people began to listen eagerly to their\nteaching, and the king himself was baptized with many others. The chant\nwhich the monks had sung that first day of their landing no longer\nsounded strange and mysterious in the ears of the islanders, for they\ntoo learnt to sing the 'Alleluia' and to praise God beneath the sign of\nthe silver cross.\n\nNow Augustine was very anxious that the Ancient British Church should\njoin his party and that they should work together under the direction\nof Pope Gregory. But the British Christians were not sure if they might\ntrust these strangers, and it was arranged that they should meet first,\nbefore making any plans.\n\nThe Ancient British Church had almost been driven out of the land, and\nthere were but few of her priests left. They did not know whether they\nought to join Augustine and his foreign monks, or strive to work on\nalone. In their perplexity they went to a holy hermit, and asked him\nwhat they should do.\n\n'If this man comes from God, then follow him,' said the hermit.\n\n'But how can we know if he is of God?' asked the people.\n\nThe hermit thought a while and then said:\n\n'The true servant of God is ever humble and lowly of heart. Go to meet\nthis man. If he rises and bids you welcome, then will you know that he\nbears Christ's yoke, and will lead you aright. But if he be proud and\nhaughty, and treat you with scorn, never rising to welcome you, then see\nto it that ye have nought to do with him.'\n\nSo the priests and bishops of the British Church arranged to meet\nAugustine under a great oak-tree, which was called ever afterwards\n'Augustine's oak.' They carefully planned that the foreign monks should\narrive there first, in time to be seated, so that the hermit's test\nmight be tried when they themselves should arrive.\n\nUnhappily, Augustine did not think of rising to greet the British\nbishops, and they were very angry and would agree to nothing that he\nproposed, though he warned them solemnly that if they would not join\ntheir forces with his, they would sooner or later fall by the hand of\ntheir enemies.\n\nGreatly disappointed Augustine returned to Canterbury and worked there\nfor many years without help, until all who lived in that part of England\nlearned to be Christians.\n\nAnd Pope Gregory hearing of his labours was pleased with the work his\nmissionary had done, and thought it fit that the humble monk should\nbe rewarded with a post of honour. So he made Augustine Archbishop of\nCanterbury, the first archbishop that England had known. It was a simple\nceremony then, with only the few faithful monks kneeling around the\nchair on which the archbishop was enthroned, but Augustine's keen, dark\nface shone with the light of victory and humble thankfulness, for it\nseemed a seal upon his work, a pledge that the island should never again\nturn back from the faith of Christ.\n\nAnd could those dark eyes have looked forward and pierced the screen of\nmany years, Augustine would have seen a goodly succession of archbishops\nfollowing in his footsteps, each in his turn sitting in that same simple\nold chair, placed now in Westminster Abbey and guarded as one of\nEngland's treasures.\n\nAnd he would have seen, too, what would have cheered his heart more than\nall--a Christian England venerating the spot where his monastery once\nstood, and building upon it a college to his memory. And there he would\nhave seen England's sons trained to become missionaries and to go out\ninto all the world to preach the gospel, just as that little band of\nmonks, with Augustine at their head, came to our island in those dark,\nfar-off days.\n\nBut though Augustine could not know all this, his heart was filled with\na great hope and a great love for the islanders who now seemed like his\nown children, and he was more than content to spend his life amongst\nthem.\n\nAnd when his work was ended, and the faithful soul gave up his charge,\nthey buried him in the island which had once seemed to him a land of\nexile, but which at last had come to mean even more to him than his\nown sunny land of Italy.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT CECILIA\n\n\nIt was in the days when cruel men killed and tortured those who loved\nour Blessed Lord that, in the city of Rome, a little maid was born.\nHer father and mother were amongst the richest and noblest of the\nRoman people, and their little daughter, whom they called Cecilia, had\neverything she could possibly want. She lived in a splendid palace, with\neverything most beautiful around her, and she had a garden to play in,\nwhere the loveliest flowers grew. Her little white dress was embroidered\nwith the finest gold, and her face was as fair as the flowers she loved.\n\nBut it was not only the outside that was beautiful, for the little\nmaiden's heart was fairer than the fairest flowers, and whiter than her\nspotless robe.\n\nThere were not many people who loved our Lord in those dark days.\nAny one who was known to be a Christian was made to suffer terrible\ntortures, and was even put to death.\n\nBut though Cecilia's father and mother knew this they still taught their\nlittle daughter to be a servant of Christ and to love Him above all\nthings. For they knew that the love of Christ was better than life, and\nworth all the suffering that might come.\n\nAnd as Cecilia grew into a stately maiden every one wondered at the grace\nand beauty that shone out of her face. And every one loved her because\nshe loved every one. She was always ready and willing to help others,\nand she specially cared to be kind to the poor. In the folds of her gold\nembroidered dress she always carried a little book which she loved to\nread. It was the book of the Gospels, and the more she read and heard\nof Christ, the more she longed to grow like Him. She could not bear to\nthink that she wore fine dresses, while He had been so poor and suffered\nso much. And so, underneath her soft, white robe she wore a harsh,\ncoarse garment made of hair. And when it hurt and rubbed her sorely,\nthe pain only made her glad, because she wore it for Christ's sake.\n\nSome say the meaning of her name Cecilia is 'Heaven's Lily.' And that\nname certainly suited this little Roman maiden. For as God plants the\nlilies in the dark earth, and presently they grow up and lift their pure\nwhite cups to heaven, so Cecilia seemed to lift her heart above the sins\nand sorrows of the world, where God had planted her, and to turn her\nface ever heavenwards.\n\nAnd the poor people whom she helped and cheered with her kind sympathy\nloved to look at her, for the peace of paradise shone in her eyes, and\nit seemed to bring heaven nearer to the poor souls.\n\nAs soon as Cecilia was old enough, it was arranged that she should marry\na young Roman noble called Valerian, and this made her very unhappy. She\nhad so hoped to belong only to Christ, and this Valerian was a pagan who\nknew nothing of the Lord whom she served. But she knew that her guardian\nangel would watch over her and keep her from all harm, and so she obeyed\nher father's and mother's wishes, and was married to the young Roman\nnoble.\n\nWhen Valerian had taken Cecilia home and all the guests had gone,\nand they were left alone together, she told him that, though she was\nmarried, she belonged first of all to Christ, and that her guardian\nangel, who never left her, would guard and protect her from all danger.\n\n'Wilt thou not show me this angel, so that I may know that what thou\nsayest is true?' asked Valerian.\n\n'Thou canst not see the heavenly messenger until thou hast learnt to\nknow my Lord,' answered Cecilia.\n\nAnd as Valerian eagerly asked how he should learn to know this Christ,\nCecilia told him to go along the great Appian Way, outside the walls of\nRome, until he should meet some poor people who lived in the Campagna.\nAnd to them he should say:\n\n'Cecilia bids you show me the way that I may find the old man, Urban\nthe Good.'\n\nSo Valerian started off and went the way Cecilia directed. And the\npeople guided him as she had promised, until they came to a curious\nopening in the ground, down which they told him he must go if he wished\nto find Pope Urban.\n\nThis opening was the entrance to a strange under-ground place called\nthe Catacombs.\n\nThere were miles and miles of dark passages cut out of the rock, with\nhere and there a little dark room, and curious shelves hollowed out of\nthe walls. It was here that many poor Christians lived, hiding themselves\nfrom those who would have put them to death. And the little shelves were\nwhere they buried the bodies of poor Christians who had died for Christ.\n\nIt was here that the old Pope, Urban the Good, lived, and he welcomed\nValerian most gladly, knowing why he had come. He began at once to teach\nhim all that he should know--how God was our Father, and Jesus Christ\nHis Son, our Saviour. And as Valerian listened to the strange, wonderful\nwords, the love of God shone into his heart, so that when the old man\nasked:\n\n'Believest thou this?'\n\nHe answered with all his heart:\n\n'All this I steadfastly believe.'\n\nThen Urban baptized Valerian, and by that sign the young Roman knew that\nhe was indeed a Christian, a servant of Christ.\n\nAll the world looked different to Valerian as he walked back along the\nAppian Way to Rome. The flat, low fields of the Campagna, fading away\ninto the ridges of the purple Apennines, seemed almost like the fields\nof paradise, and the song of the birds was like the voice of angels. He\nscarcely thought of the dangers and difficulties that were before him,\nor if he did it was only to feel glad that he might have anything to\nbear for his new Master.\n\n[Illustration: A CROWN OF LILIES AND ROSES IN EACH HAND.]\n\nAnd when he reached home, and went back to the room where he had left\nCecilia, he found her there waiting for him, with a glad welcome in\nher eyes. And as they knelt together they heard a rustle of wings, and\nlooking up they saw an angel bending over them, with a crown of lilies\nand roses in each hand. These he placed upon their heads, and to\nValerian he said:\n\n'Thou hast done well in allowing Cecilia to serve her Master, therefore\nask what thou wilt and thy request shall be granted.'\n\nThen Valerian asked that his brother, whom he dearly loved, might also\nlearn to know Christ.\n\nAnd just then the door opened, and the brother whom Valerian loved so\nmuch came in. He, of course, only saw Valerian and Cecilia, and could\nnot see the angel, or even the wreaths of heavenly roses. But he looked\nround in astonishment and said:\n\n'I see no flowers here, and yet the fragrance of roses and lilies is so\nsweet and strange, that it makes my very heart glad.'\n\nThen Valerian answered:\n\n'We have two crowns here, which thou canst not see, because thou knowest\nnot the Lord who sent them to us. But if thou wilt listen, and learn to\nknow Him, then shalt thou see the heavenly flowers, whose fragrance has\nfilled thy heart.'\n\nSo Valerian and Cecilia told their brother what it meant to be a\nChristian. And after the good Urban had taught him also, he was baptized\nand became God's knight. Then he, too, saw the heavenly crowns and the\nface of the angel who guarded Heaven's Lily.\n\nFor a while the home of Valerian and Cecilia was like a paradise on\nearth. There was nothing but happiness there. Cecilia loved music above\neverything. Her voice was like a bird's, and she sang her hymns of\npraise and played so exquisitely, that it is said that even the angels\ncame down to listen.\n\nBut before long it began to be known that Valerian and his brother\nhelped the poor Christians, and the wicked governor of the city ordered\nthem both to be seized and brought before him. He told them that there\nwere but two ways before them: either they must deny that they were\nChristians, or they must be put to death.\n\nBut God's knights did not fear death, and they went out to meet it\nas if they were on their way to a great victory. And when the soldiers\nwondered, and asked them if it was not sad that they should lose their\nlives while they were still so young, they answered that what looked\nlike loss on earth was gain in heaven--that they were but laying down\ntheir bodies as one puts off one's clothes to sleep at night. For the\nimmortal soul could never die, but would live for ever.\n\nSo they knelt down, and the cruel blows were struck. But, looking up,\nthe soldiers saw a great pathway of light shining down from heaven. And\nthe souls of Valerian and his brother were led up by angel hands to the\nthrone of God, there to receive the crowns of everlasting glory which\nthey had won on earth.\n\nAnd so Cecilia was left alone. But she did not spend her time grieving.\nGathering the people and soldiers around her, she taught them about the\nLord of Heaven, for whose sake Valerian and his brother had so gladly\nsuffered death. And it was not long before she also trod the shining\npathway up to heaven and met the ones she loved.\n\nFor the governor was not satisfied with the death of Valerian and his\nbrother, but ordered Cecilia to be brought before him.\n\n'What sort of a woman art thou, and what is thy name?' he asked.\n\n'I am a Roman lady,' she answered with grave dignity,' and among men\nI am known by the name of Cecilia. But'--and her voice rang out proudly\nas she looked fearlessly into those angry eyes--'my noblest name is\nChristian.'\n\nThen the enraged governor ordered that she should be taken to her house,\nand put to death in her bath. But the boiling water could not hurt her,\nand she was as cool as if she had bathed in a fresh spring.\n\nThis made the governor more furious than ever, and he ordered that her\nhead should be cut off.\n\nBut even after she had received three strokes from the sword she did\nnot die, but lived for three days. And these days she spent in quietly\nputting her house in order and dividing her money among the poor, ever\nsinging in her sweet voice the praises of God.\n\nAnd so at the end of three days God's angel came and led Cecilia home,\nand all that was left of her on earth was her fair body, lying like a\ntired child asleep, with hands clasped, gently resting now that her work\non earth was done.\n\nAnd in Rome to-day there is a splendid church built over the place where\nCecilia's house stood. Some day if you go there, you will see her little\nroom and the bath in which the boiling water could not hurt her. You\nwill see too, a beautiful marble figure lying under the altar, and you\nwill know exactly how Cecilia looked when she left her tired body lying\nthere, and went up the shining path to God.\n\n[Illustration: SHE TAUGHT THEM ABOUT THE LORD OF HEAVEN.]\n\n\n\n\nSAINT GILES\n\n\nIt was in the beautiful land of Greece that Saint Giles was born, very\nfar away from the grey northern city, whose cathedral bears his name.\nHis parents were of royal blood, and were, moreover, Christians; so the\nboy was brought up most carefully, and taught all that a prince should\nknow.\n\nHe was a dreamy, quiet boy, and what he loved best was to wander out in\nthe green woods by himself, with no companions but the animals and birds\nand flowers. He would lie for hours watching the birds busily build\ntheir nests, or the rabbits as they timidly peeped at him out of their\nholes. And soon all the woodland creatures began to look upon him as\ntheir friend, and even the wildest would come gradually nearer and\nnearer, almost within reach of his hand; and they seemed to listen when\nhe talked to them, as if they could understand what he said. One thing\nthey certainly did understand, and that was that he loved them and would\ndo them no harm.\n\nSaint Giles could not bear to see anything suffer, and his pity was\ngreat for all those in pain; and often he would mend a bird's broken\nwing, or bind up a little furry foot that had been torn in a trap; and\nthe birds and beasts always lay quiet under his hand, and seemed to know\nthat he would cure them, even though the touch might hurt.\n\nIt happened that one day, when Saint Giles was kneeling in church, he\nsaw a poor beggar lying there on the cold, stone floor. He had scarcely\nany clothes to keep him warm, and his face had a hungry, suffering look,\nwhich filled the heart of the saint with pity. He saw that the poor man\nwas ill and trembling with cold, so without a moment's thought, he took\noff his own warm cloak and tenderly wrapped it round the beggar.\n\nThe warmth of the cloak seemed to bring life back to the poor chilled\nbody, and when Saint Giles had given him food and wine, he was able to\nlift himself up, and to bless the kind youth who had helped him.\n\nAnd when the people saw what had happened they thought Saint Giles had\nworked a miracle, and cured the man by his wonderful touch; for they did\nnot realise that all kind deeds work miracles every day.\n\nIt did not please Saint Giles that people should think he possessed this\nmiraculous gift of healing, and he had no wish to be called a saint. He\nonly longed to lead his own quiet life and to help all God's creatures\nwho needed his care. But the people would not leave him alone, and they\nbrought to him those who were sick and lame and blind, and expected that\nhe would heal them.\n\nIt is true that many needed only a little human aid, and the food and\nhelp which Saint Giles gave them would soon make them well again; but\nthere were some he could not help, and it wrung his heart to see their\npleading eyes, and to watch them bring out their little store of\nhard-earned money, eager to buy the aid which he so willingly would\nhave given had he been able.\n\nSo at last Saint Giles determined to leave his native city, for he had\nbeen all alone since his father and mother had died. He wished to escape\nfrom the anxious crowds that refused to leave him in peace; but first he\nsold all that he had and gave it to the poor of the city, an act which\nmade them surer than ever that he was one of God's saints. Then he\nsailed away across the sea to a far-off country.\n\nThere Saint Giles found a lonely cave in which an old hermit lived.\n'Here at last I shall find peace and quietness,' said he to himself,\n'and men will soon forget me.'\n\nBut even here ere long his friends found him, for his fame had spread\nacross the seas. So once more he set out and went further and further\naway, by paths that few had ever trod before, until in the depths of a\ngreen forest he found another shelter, a cave among grey rocks overgrown\nwith lichens, and hidden by the sheltering boughs of the surrounding\ntrees. Saint Giles had always loved the woods and this was just the home\nhe had longed for. A clear stream flowed not far off, and his only\ncompanions would be the birds and beasts and flowers.\n\nEarly in the morning the birds would wake him with their song, and the\nwild creatures would come stealing out of the wood to share his meal.\nAnd his silent friends, the flowers, would cheer and help him by their\nbeauty, and remind him of God's garden whose gate would one day open for\nhim, where he would wander in the green pastures beside the still waters\nof Life for evermore.\n\nBut of all his companions the one Saint Giles loved best was a gentle\nwhite doe, who came to him as soon as he settled in the cave. She seemed\nto have no fear of him from the first, and stayed with him longer and\nlonger each time, until at last she took up her abode with him, and\nwould never leave him, lying close to him when he slept, and walking by\nhis side wherever he went.\n\nThis peaceful life went on for a long time and it seemed as if nothing\ncould disturb its quiet happiness. But it happened that one day as Saint\nGiles was praying in the cave, and his companion, the white doe, was\nnibbling her morning meal of fresh grass by the banks of the stream, a\ncurious noise was heard afar off. It came nearer and nearer, and then\nshouts of men's voices could be heard, the sound of horses galloping and\nthe note of the hunter's horn. Then came the deep baying of dogs, and\nbefore the startled doe could hide, the whole hunt was upon her. With a\nwild halloo they chased her across the greensward and through the trees,\nand just as she disappeared into the cave, one of the huntsmen drew\nhis bow and sent an arrow flying after her. Then they all dismounted\nand went to see what had become of the hunted doe, and soon found the\nopening into the cave. But what was their surprise, when they burst in,\nto find an old man kneeling there. He was sheltering the terrified doe\nwho had fled to him for refuge, and an arrow had pierced the kind hand\nthat had been raised to shield her.\n\nThe huntsmen were ashamed of their cruel sport when they saw the wounded\nhand of the old man and the trembling form of the white doe as it\ncrouched behind him, and they listened with reverence to the hermit's\nwords as he spoke to them of man's duty towards God's dumb creatures.\n\nThe King of France, who was one of the hunting party, came often after\nthis to see Saint Giles, and at last offered to build him a monastery\nand give him all that he could want; but the old man begged to be left\nalone in his woodland cave, to serve God in peace and quietness. So\nthere he lived quietly and happily for many years, until God took him,\nand he left his cave for the fairer fields of paradise.\n\nPeople loved the thought of this peaceful old saint who dwelt in the\nwoods and was the protector of all sorrowful and suffering creatures,\nand so they often called their churches after Saint Giles, especially\nthose churches which were built in the fields or near green woods.\n\nThe surroundings of many of these churches are to-day changed. There\nare no fields now round his great cathedral church in the old town of\nEdinburgh; but the poor and sick and sorrowful crowd very near to its\nshelter, and the memory of the pitiful heart of the gentle old saint\nstill hovers like a blessing round the grey old walls.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT NICHOLAS\n\n\nOf all the saints that little children love is there any to compare with\nSanta Claus? The very sound of his name has magic in it, and calls up\nvisions of well-filled stockings, with the presents we particularly want\npeeping over the top, or hanging out at the side, too big to go into\nthe largest sock. Besides, there is something so mysterious and exciting\nabout Santa Claus, for no one seems to have ever seen him. But we picture\nhim to ourselves as an old man with a white beard, whose favourite way\nof coming into our rooms is down the chimney, bringing gifts for the good\nchildren and punishments for the bad.\n\nYet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come to us at Christmas\ntime, is a very real saint, and we can learn a great deal about him,\nonly we must remember that his true name is Saint Nicholas. Perhaps the\nlittle children, who used to talk of him long ago, found Saint Nicholas\ntoo difficult to say, and so called him their dear Santa Claus. But we\nlearn, as we grow older, that Nicholas is his true name, and that he is\na real person who lived long years ago, far away in the East.\n\nThe father and mother of Nicholas were noble and very rich, but what\nthey wanted most of all was to have a son. They were Christians, so\nthey prayed to God for many years that he would give them their heart's\ndesire; and when at last Nicholas was born, they were the happiest\npeople in the world.\n\nThey thought there was no one like their boy; and indeed he was wiser\nand better than most children, and never gave them a moment's trouble.\nBut alas, while he was still a child, a terrible plague swept over the\ncountry, and his father and mother died, leaving him quite alone.\n\nAll the great riches which his father had possessed were left to\nNicholas, and among other things he inherited three bars of gold. These\ngolden bars were his greatest treasure, and he thought more of them than\nall the other riches he possessed.\n\nNow in the town where Nicholas lived there dwelt a nobleman with three\ndaughters. They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes had\novertaken the father, and now they were all so poor they had scarcely\nenough to live upon.\n\nAt last a day came when there was not even bread enough to eat, and the\ndaughters said to their father:\n\n'Let us go out into the streets and beg, or do anything to get a little\nmoney, that we may not starve.'\n\nBut the father answered:\n\n'Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at least until\nto-morrow. Something may happen to save my daughters from such\ndisgrace.'\n\nNow, just as they were talking together, Nicholas happened to be\npassing, and as the window was open he heard all that the poor father\nsaid. It seemed terrible to think that a noble family should be so poor\nand actually in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan how it would\nbe possible to help them. He knew they would be much too proud to take\nmoney from him, so he had to think of some other way. Then he remembered\nhis golden bars, and that very night he took one of them and went\nsecretly to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure without\nletting the father or daughters know who brought it.\n\nTo his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had been left open,\nand by standing on tiptoe he could just reach it. So he lifted the\ngolden bar and slipped it through the window, never waiting to hear what\nbecame of it, in case any one should see him. (And now do you see the\nreason why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious?)\n\nInside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watching, while his\nchildren slept. He wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere, and\nhe prayed earnestly that heaven would send help. Suddenly something fell\nat his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he found it was a bar of pure\ngold.\n\n'My child,' he cried, as he showed his eldest daughter the shining gold,\n'God has heard my prayer and has sent this from heaven. Now we shall\nhave enough and to spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice\ntogether, and I will go instantly and change this treasure.'\n\n[Illustration: HE SHOWED HIS DAUGHTER THE GOLD.]\n\nThe precious golden bar was soon sold to a money-changer, who gave so\nmuch for it that the family were able to live in comfort and have all\nthat they needed. And not only was there enough to live upon, but so\nmuch was over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry,\nand very soon she was happily married.\n\nWhen Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar had brought to the\npoor nobleman, he determined that the second daughter should have a\ndowry too. So he went as before and found the little window again open,\nand was able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done the first.\nThis time the father was dreaming happily, and did not find the treasure\nuntil he awoke in the morning. Soon afterwards the second daughter had\nher dowry and was married too.\n\nThe father now began to think that, after all, it was not usual for\ngolden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered if by any chance\nhuman hands had placed them in his room. The more he thought of it the\nstranger it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep watch every night,\nin case another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his youngest\ndaughter.\n\nAnd so when Nicholas went the third time and dropped the last bar\nthrough the little window, the father came quickly out, and before\nNicholas had time to hide, caught him by his cloak.\n\n'O Nicholas,' he cried, 'is it thou who hast helped us in our need?\nWhy didst thou hide thyself?' And then he fell on his knees and began\nto kiss the hands that had helped him so graciously.\n\nBut Nicholas bade him stand up and give thanks to God instead; warning\nhim to tell no one the story of the golden bars.\n\nThis was only one of the many kind acts Nicholas loved to do, and it was\nno wonder that he was beloved by all who knew him.\n\nSoon afterwards Nicholas made up his mind to enter God's service as a\npriest. He longed above all things to leave the world and live as a\nhermit in the desert, but God came to him in a vision and told him he\nmust stay in the crowded cities and do his work among the people. Still\nhis desire to see the deserts and the hermits who lived there was so\ngreat that he went off on a journey to Egypt and the Holy Land. But\nremembering, what God had bade him do, he did not stay there, but\nreturned to his own country.\n\nOn the way home a terrific storm arose, and it seemed as if the ship\nhe was in must be lost. The sailors could do nothing, and great waves\ndashed over the deck, filling the ship with water. But just as all\nhad given up hope, Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save them, and\nimmediately a calm fell upon the angry sea. The winds sank to rest and\nthe waves ceased to lash the sides of the ship so that they sailed\nsmoothly on, and all danger was past.\n\nThus Nicholas returned home in safety, and went to live in the city of\nMyra. His ways were so quiet and humble that no one knew much about him,\nuntil it came to pass one day that the Archbishop of Myra died. Then all\nthe priests met to choose another archbishop, and it was made known to\nthem by a sign from heaven that the first man who should enter the church\nnext morning should be the bishop whom God had chosen.\n\nNow Nicholas used to spend most of his nights in prayer and always went\nvery early to church, so next morning just as the sun was rising and the\nbells began to ring for the early mass, he was seen coming up to the\nchurch door and was the first to enter. As he knelt down quietly to say\nhis prayers as usual, what was his surprise to meet a company of priests\nwho hailed him as their new archbishop, chosen by God to be their leader\nand guide. So Nicholas was made Archbishop of Myra to the joy of all in\nthe city who knew and loved him.\n\nNot long after this there was great trouble in the town of Myra, for the\nharvests of that country had failed and a terrible famine swept over\nthe land. Nicholas, as a good bishop should, felt the suffering of his\npeople as if it were his own, and did all he could to help them.\n\nHe knew that they must have corn or they would die, so he went to the\nharbour where two ships lay filled with grain, and asked the captains\nif they would sell him their cargo. They told the bishop they would\nwillingly do so, but it was already sold to merchants of another country\nand they dared not sell it over again.\n\n'Take no thought of that,' said Nicholas, 'only sell me some of thy corn\nfor my starving people, and I promise thee that there shall be nought\nwanting when thou shalt arrive at thy journey's end.'\n\nThe captains believed in the bishop's promise and gave him as much corn\nas he asked. And behold! when they came to deliver their cargo to the\nowners, there was not a bag lacking.\n\nIt is said, too, that at the time of this famine there was a cruel\ninnkeeper in Myra who was wicked enough to catch little children and\npickle them in a great tub, pretending they were pork. It happened one\nday as Nicholas was passing the inn-door that he heard the voices of\nchildren crying for help. He went in very quickly and made his way to\nthe cellar whence the cries had come. There he found the poor children,\nand not only rescued those who were alive, but by his prayers he brought\nto life those who had already been killed and cast into the tub.\n\nAnother time there were two men in Myra who had been unjustly condemned\nto death, and it was told the bishop how greatly they stood in need of\nhis help. No one ever appealed to Nicholas in vain, and he went off at\nonce to the place of execution. The executioner was just about to raise\nhis sword, when Nicholas seized his arm and wrenched the sword away.\nThen he set the poor prisoners free and told the judge that, if he dared\nto deal so unjustly again, the wrath of heaven and of the Bishop of Myra\nwould descend upon him.\n\n[Illustration: HE WENT TO THE HARBOUR WHERE TWO SHIPS LAY.]\n\nThere are many other stories told about the good bishop. Like his\nMaster, he ever went about doing good; and when he died, there were a\ngreat many legends told about him, for the people loved to believe that\ntheir bishop still cared for them and would come to their aid. We do not\nknow if all these legends are true, but they show how much Saint Nicholas\nwas loved and honoured even after his death, and how every one believed\nin his power to help them.\n\nHere is one of the stories which all children who love Saint Nicholas\nwill like to hear.\n\nThere was once a nobleman who had no children and who longed for a son\nabove everything else in the world. Night and day he prayed to Saint\nNicholas that he would grant him his request, and at last a son was\nborn. He was a beautiful child, and the father was so delighted and so\ngrateful to the saint who had listened to his prayers that, every year\non the child's birthday, he made a great feast in honour of Saint\nNicholas and a grand service was held in the church.\n\nNow the Evil One grew very angry each year when this happened, for it\nmade many people go to church and honour the good saint, neither of\nwhich things pleased the Evil One at all. So each year he tried to think\nof some plan that would put an end to these rejoicings, and he decided\nat last that if only he could do some evil to the child, the parents\nwould blame Saint Nicholas and all would be well.\n\nIt happened just then to be the boy's sixth birthday, and a greater\nfeast than ever was being held. It was late in the afternoon, and the\ngardener and porter and all the servants were away keeping holiday too.\nSo no one noticed a curious-looking pilgrim who came and sat close\nto the great iron gates which led into the courtyard. He had on the\nordinary robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was drawn so far over his\nface that nothing but a dark shadow could be seen inside. And indeed\nthat was as well, for this pilgrim was a demon in disguise, and his\nwicked, black face would have frightened any one who saw it. He could\nnot enter the courtyard for the great gates were always kept locked,\nand, as you know, the porter was away that day, feasting with all the\nother servants.\n\nBut, before very long, the little boy grew weary of his birthday feast,\nand having had all he wanted, he begged to be allowed to go to play in\nthe garden. His parents knew that the gardener always looked after him\nthere, so they told him he might go. They forgot that the gardener was\nnot there just then.\n\nThe child played happily alone for some time and then wandered into the\ncourtyard, and looking out of the gate saw a poor pilgrim resting there.\n\n'What are you doing here?' asked the child, 'and why do you sit so still?'\n\n'I am a poor pilgrim,' answered the demon, trying to make his harsh\nvoice sound as gentle as possible, 'and I have come all the way from\nRome. I am resting here because I am so weary and footsore and have had\nnothing to eat all day.'\n\n'I will let you in, and take you to my father,' said the child; 'this is\nmy birthday, and no one must go hungry to-day.'\n\nBut the demon pretended he was too weak to walk, and begged the boy to\nbring some food out to him.\n\nThen the child ran back to the banquet hall in a great hurry and said to\nhis father:\n\n'O father, there is a poor pilgrim from Rome sitting outside our gate,\nand he is so hungry, may I take him some of my birthday feast?'\n\nThe father was very pleased to think that his little son should care for\nthe poor and wish to be kind, so he willingly gave his permission and\ntold one of the servants to give the child all that he wanted.\n\nThen as the demon sat eating the good things, he began to question the\nboy and tried to find out all that he could about him.\n\n'Do you often play in the garden?' he asked.\n\n'Oh yes,' said the child, 'I play there whenever I may, for in the midst\nof the lawn there is a beautiful fountain, and the gardener makes me\nboats to sail on the water.'\n\n'Will he make you one to-day?' asked the demon quickly.\n\n'He is not here to-day,' answered the child, 'for this is a holiday for\nevery one and I am quite alone.'\n\nThen the demon rose to his feet slowly and said he felt so much better\nafter the good food, that he thought he could walk a little, and would\nlike very much to come in and see the beautiful garden and the fountain\nhe had heard about.\n\nSo the child climbed up and with great difficulty drew back the bolts.\nThe great gates swung open and the demon walked in.\n\nAs they went along together towards the fountain, the child held out his\nlittle hand to lead the pilgrim, but even the demon shrunk from touching\nanything so pure and innocent, and folded his arms under his robe, so\nthat the child could only hold by a fold of his cloak.\n\n'What strange kind of feet you have,' said the child as they walked\nalong; 'they look as if they belonged to an animal.'\n\n'Yes, they are curious,' said the demon, 'but it is just the way they\nare made.'\n\nThen the child began to notice the demon's hands, which were even more\ncurious than his feet, and just like the paws of a bear. But he was too\ncourteous to say anything about them, when he had already mentioned the\nfeet.\n\nJust then they came to the fountain, and with a sudden movement the\ndemon threw back his hood and showed his dreadful face. And before the\nchild could scream he was seized by those hairy hands and thrown into\nthe water.\n\nBut just at that moment the gardener was returning to his work and saw\nfrom a distance what had happened. He ran as fast as he could, but he\nonly got to the fountain in time to see the demon vanish, while the\nchild's body was floating on the water. Very quickly he drew him out,\nand carried him, all dripping wet, up to the castle, where they tried to\nbring him back to life. But alas! it all seemed of no use, he neither\nmoved nor breathed; and the day that had begun with such rejoicing,\nended in the bitterest woe. The poor parents were heart-broken, but they\ndid not quite lose hope and prayed earnestly to Saint Nicholas who had\ngiven them the child, that he would restore their boy to them again.\n\nAs they prayed by the side of the little bed where the body of the child\nlay, they thought something moved, and to their joy and surprise the boy\nopened his eyes and sat up, and in a short time was as well as ever.\n\nThey asked him eagerly what had happened, and he told them all about\nthe pilgrim with the queer feet and hands, who had gone with him to\nthe fountain and had then thrown back his hood and shown his terrible\nface. After that he could remember nothing until he found himself in a\nbeautiful garden, where the loveliest flowers grew. There were lilies\nlike white stars, and roses far more beautiful than any he had ever seen\nin his own garden, and the leaves of the trees shone like silver and\ngold. It was all so beautiful that for a while he forgot about his\nhome, and when he did remember and tried to find his way back, he grew\nbewildered and did not know in what direction to turn. As he was looking\nabout, an old man came down the garden path and smiled so kindly upon\nhim that he trusted him at once. This old man was dressed in the robes\nof a bishop, and had a long white beard and the sweetest old face the\nchild had ever seen.\n\n'Art thou searching for the way home?' the old man asked. 'Dost thou\nwish to leave this beautiful garden and go back to thy father and\nmother?'\n\n'I want to go home,' said the child, with a sob in his voice, 'but\nI cannot find the way, and I am, oh, so tired of searching for it!'\n\nThen the old man stooped down and lifted him in his arms, and the child\nlaid his head on the old man's shoulder, and, weary with his wandering,\nfell fast asleep and remembered nothing more till he woke up in his own\nlittle bed.\n\nThen the parents knew that Saint Nicholas had heard their prayers and\nhad gone to fetch the child from the Heavenly Garden and brought him\nback to them.\n\nSo they were more grateful to the good saint than ever, and they loved\nand honoured him even more than they had done before; which was all the\nreward the demon got for his wicked doings.\n\nThat is one of the many stories told after the death of Saint Nicholas,\nand it ever helped and comforted his people to think that, though they\ncould no longer see him, he would love and protect them still.\n\nYoung maidens in need of help remembered the story of the golden bars\nand felt sure the good saint would not let them want. Sailors tossing\non the stormy waves thought of that storm which had sunk to rest at\nthe prayer of Saint Nicholas. Poor prisoners with no one to take their\npart were comforted by the thought of those other prisoners whom he had\nsaved. And little children perhaps have remembered him most of all,\nfor when the happy Christmas time draws near, who is so much in their\nthoughts as Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus, as they call him? Perhaps\nthey are a little inclined to think of him as some good magician who\ncomes to fill their stockings with gifts, but they should never forget\nthat he was the kind bishop who, in olden days, loved to make the little\nones happy. There are some who think that even now he watches over and\nprotects little children, and for that reason he is called their patron\nsaint.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT FAITH\n\n\nAmong the many martyrs who long ago gave up their lives, rather than\ndeny their Master, we love to remember one little maid--a child-martyr\nand saint. We do not know a great deal about her, for she lived so very\nlong ago, but what we know makes us love and honour her, and speak her\nname with reverence.\n\nFaith was the name of this little maiden, and her home was in France, in\nthe pleasant country of Aquitaine. Her parents were rich and noble, and\nshe was brought up carefully, and taught to be courteous and gentle to\nevery one. But she did not need much teaching, for her nature was sweet\nand pure, and her face was fair, with the beauty that shines from within.\n\nThe town in which little Faith lived was called Agen, and lay at the\nfoot of a high rugged hill, which seemed to keep guard over it. It\nwas a quiet little place, and most of the people who dwelt there were\nChristians, living happily together with the good bishop at their head.\n\nBut one day a heavy cloud of dust was seen rolling along the highroad\nthat led over the mountains to the city gates. And messengers came\nrunning breathlessly into the town, warning the people that a great\ncompany of soldiers was marching towards them. It was thought they had\ncome from Spain, and the news spread like wildfire through the town that\nDacian, the cruellest governor of all that country, was riding at their\nhead.\n\nIn fear and trembling the people waited. They stood in little knots,\ntalking under their breath of all the evil this man had done; or\nshutting themselves into their houses, they scarcely dared to look out\nat the windows. And soon the great company came sweeping in, swords\nclattering and armour glittering in the sunshine, rough soldiers\nlaughing carelessly as they rode past the frightened faces. And at their\nhead a cruel, evil-looking man who glared from side to side, as if he\nwere a wild beast seeking his prey.\n\nDoubtless it pleased him to see how every one trembled before him, and\nhe smiled scornfully to think how easy a task it would be to teach these\nChristians to deny their God and drag their faith in the dust.\n\nAnd soon the reason of his coming was known to all, for he ordered it to\nbe proclaimed in the market-place, that every Christian who refused to\nsacrifice to the heathen gods should be tortured and put to death. And\nto make his meaning quite plain, the soldiers spread out all the\nterrible instruments of torture, so that men might know exactly what lay\nbefore them if they refused to deny Christ.\n\nBut in the night the terrified Christians stole silently out of the\ntown, and climbing the high hill that overlooked the city, they hid\nthemselves in the great caves among the rocks.\n\nScarcely any one was left behind: even the good bishop was afraid to\nstay and face the danger, and it seemed as if Christ would have no one\nto fight on His side against the evil company.\n\nBut when morning came, and the furious Dacian discovered that every one\nhad fled, he sent his soldiers to search and bring any who might remain\nhidden in the city, that he might wreak his vengeance on them.\n\nAnd among the few that were left they brought to him the little maid\nFaith. She was only a little child, but she did not know what fear\nmeant.\n\n'You cannot hurt me,' she said, looking at the cruel, angry faces around\nher, 'because I am not yours, but God's.'\n\nAnd then she signed herself with the sign of the cross, and with bent\nhead prayed:\n\n'Lord Jesus, teach my lips to answer their questions aright, so that\nI may do Thee no dishonour.'\n\nThen Dacian looked in anger at the child standing there with clasped\nhands and steadfast eyes, and asked her roughly:\n\n'What is thy name?'\n\n'My name is Faith,' the little maid replied with gentle courtesy.\n\n'And what God dost thou serve?' asked the cruel governor.\n\n'I am a Christian, and I serve the Lord Christ,' replied the child.\n\n'Deny Him, and sacrifice to our gods,' thundered the governor, 'else\nshalt thou endure every kind of torture, until there is no life left\nin thy young body.'\n\nBut Faith stood with head erect and hands clasped tight together.\nNot even the ugly instruments of torture could frighten her.\n\n'I serve the Lord Christ,' she said, 'and you cannot hurt me, because\nI am His.'\n\nSuch a little maid she was, standing there among those rough, cruel men,\noffering her life gladly for the faith of her Master. Such a few years\nshe had spent in this bright world, and so many stretched in front,\nholding pleasures and promises in store. And now she must give up all,\nmust put aside the little white robe and golden sandals, and take\ninstead the robe of suffering, and go barefoot to meet the pain and\ntorture that awaited her.\n\nAnd though they scourged her, and made her suffer many cruel torments,\nthey could not bend her will, nor break her faith. Indeed it seemed as\nif she did not feel the pain and anguish.\n\nAnd God stooped down, and gathered the little faithful soul into His\nbosom. And when the people looked, the child was dead.\n\nBut in the cave among the mountains that very day the bishop sat, sad\nand troubled.\n\nHe was gazing away across the plain to where the town lay half hidden in\nthe mist, thinking of those faithful few who had chosen to stay behind.\nAnd suddenly the mist broke in front, and a vision stood out clear\nbefore him. He saw the child Faith being scourged and tortured; he saw\nthe flames leaping around her, and then, as he looked again, lo! her\nhead was encircled with a golden crown set with precious stones, each\njewel sparkling with light. And from heaven a white dove came gently\nflying down, and rested on the child's head, while from its wings a soft\ndew fell that quenched the flames.\n\nAnd as the vision faded, the bishop bowed his head in his hands and\nwept. The thought of what this child had dared to endure for her Master,\nwhile he had shrunk from suffering aught for His sake, filled his heart\nwith shame. He could not stay there in safety while any of his people\nmight suffer as she had done.\n\nSo that night he returned to the city to help and comfort the few\nremaining Christians. Before long he too was called upon to suffer death\nfor his Lord, and many others gave themselves up, led by the example of\nlittle Faith.\n\nSome say that even the rough soldiers were touched by the child's death,\nand many became Christians. They began to think that such a religion was\nworth living for, if it could teach even a child to die so bravely.\n\nAnd so, though she lived such a short time on earth, she did a very\nwonderful work for God, and we call her now Saint Faith, thinking often\nof her as we read these words:\n\n'A little child shall lead them.'\n\n\n\n\nSAINT COSMO AND SAINT DAMIAN\n\n\nIt is difficult sometimes to learn a great deal about the saints who\nlived a very long time ago. So few people knew how to read or write in\nthose old days, and the only way they had of remembering and handing on\nwhat was interesting was to tell it to their children; then these little\nones, when they were grown up, would repeat it again to other little\nchildren, and so the stories were not forgotten.\n\nBut sometimes one thing would be left out and sometimes another, or\ndifferent people would add wonderful stories of their own, which would\nbecome part of the true story. And so, when at last these histories come\nto us, we find we have lost a great deal, and perhaps not gained very\nmuch.\n\nThe two saints, to whose story we are going to listen to-day, are of\nthis long-ago time, and the history of their lives has almost faded\nfrom men's memories. But whoever happens to go to Florence, that city of\nflowers, where the old Medici family has left its mark on every corner,\nwill see the portraits of our two saints wherever they go. For the old\npainters loved to tell the saint-stories in their own beautiful way,\nand to-day the little dark-eyed Italian children can read them without\nbooks, for they are told more plainly and far more beautifully than in\nany written story.\n\nCosmo and Damian were brothers, and were born in Arabia three hundred\nyears after Christ. When they were quite little boys their father died,\nand they were left alone with their mother. She was a Christian, and\ntaught her boys, as soon as they were old enough to understand, that\nthough they had no earthly father, God was their Father in heaven.\nShe told them that the great King of Heaven and Earth called them His\nchildren, and he who could do a mean or cruel act, or stain his honour\nby an untruthful word, was not worthy to be called a King's son. And\nbecause they were noble she taught them that they must do noble deeds,\nbravely defend and protect the weak, and help those who could not help\nthemselves.\n\nSo the boys grew up straight and strong in mind and body. Their\nbitterest punishment was to feel that they had done anything unworthy\nof their King, and although they often made mistakes and did wrong\nthoughtlessly, they never went far astray since God's honour was their\nown.\n\nTheir mother was rich, for their father had had great possessions, but\nthere were so many poor and suffering people around their home that it\nwas almost impossible to help them all. So the boys learned early to\ndeny themselves in many ways, and often gave up their own dinner to\nthe starving poor. In that land there was a great deal of sickness and\nsuffering, and this was a great trouble to Cosmo and Damian. They could\nnot bear to see people in pain, and be unable to help them. They often\nthought about this, and at last determined to learn all about medicine,\nand become doctors, so that they might at least soften suffering when\nthey could not cure it.\n\nAfter years of patient study they learned to be very clever doctors, and\ntheir kind hearts and gentle hands soothed and comforted those who were\nin pain, even when skill could do nothing for them.\n\nThey visited rich and poor alike, and would take no money for their\nservices, for they said it was payment enough to know they had been able\nto make the worlds suffering a little less.\n\nAnd it was not only people they cared for, but God's dumb creatures too.\nIf any animal was in pain, they would treat it as gently and carefully\nas if it had been a human being. Indeed, they were perhaps even more\npitiful towards animals, for they said:\n\n'People who can speak and complain of their ills are greatly to be\npitied, but these dumb creatures, made by our King, can only suffer in\nsilence, and surely their suffering will be required at our hands.'\n\nIt ever seemed strange to these great men that boys who would scorn to\nill-treat a younger child, or take mean advantage of a weak one, would\nstill think nothing of staining their honour by ill-treating an animal,\ninfinitely weaker and smaller, and less able to protect itself. It was\none of the few things that raised the wrath of these gentle doctor\nsaints.\n\n[Illustration: BUT COSMO TURNED AND WALKED AWAY.]\n\nNow it happened that a poor woman who had been ill for many years heard\nof the fame of the two young doctors, and sent to implore them to come\nto help her. She believed that though her illness seemed incurable these\ngood men might heal her.\n\nCosmo and Damian were touched by her faith, and they went at once, and\ndid for her all that their skill could devise, and, moreover, prayed\nthat God would bless their efforts.\n\nTo the wonder of all, the woman began to grow better, and very soon was\ncompletely cured. In her great gratitude she offered all that she had\nin payment to the two doctors, but they told her that they could take\nnothing. Then she humbly offered them a little bag in which were three\neggs, praying them not to go away from her quite empty-handed. But Cosmo\nturned and walked away and would not so much as even look at what she\noffered, for it was a very strict rule with the brothers that they\nshould accept no payment or reward of any kind. Then the woman caught at\na fold of Damian's cloak as he also turned to go and begged him, for the\nlove of Christ, to take her little gift.\n\nWhen Damian heard the name of his Master, he paused, and then took the\npresent and courteously thanked the poor woman.\n\nBut when Cosmo saw what Damian had done he was very wrathful, and that\nnight he refused to sleep with him, and said that henceforth they would\nbe no longer brothers.\n\nBut in the stillness of the night God came to Cosmo and said:\n\n'My son, wherefore art thou so wrathful with thy brother?'\n\n'Because he hath taken reward for our services,' said Cosmo, 'and Thou\nknowest, Lord, that we receive no payment but from Thee.'\n\n'But was it not in My name that he took the offering?' asked the voice.\n'Because that poor woman gave it for love of Me, thy brother did well to\naccept it.'\n\nThen Cosmo awoke in great joy and hurried to the bedside of his brother,\nand there begged his forgiveness for having misjudged him so sorely. And\nso they were happy together once more, and ate the eggs right merrily.\n\nIn those days there were many pilgrims passing through Arabia, and\nbecause the journey was hard and most of them were poor, they often fell\nill and came under the care of Cosmo and Damian. One night a poor man\nwas brought in, fainting and fever-stricken. He lay on the bed with his\nthin, grey face pinched and worn with suffering, and the kind doctors\nfeared that he would die.\n\nAll night they sat by his bedside doing everything that their skill\ncould plan to ease his pain, and they only smiled when the poor man said\nin his faint, low voice:\n\n'Why do you take all this trouble for a poor pilgrim, who has nothing\nwherewith to repay you?'\n\n'We would not take thy payment if thou hadst all the riches in the\nworld,' answered the doctors, 'for we receive payment only from our\nKing.'\n\nThen when the first pale light of dawn began to steal through the little\nwindow, and the doctors anxiously watched the still form lying there,\nthey started with surprise. For the face seemed to change in an instant,\nand instead of the bed of suffering they saw a cloud of glory; out of\nthe midst of which Christ's face, infinitely tender, looked upon them;\nand His hands touched their heads in blessing as He said:\n\n'All the riches of the world are indeed mine though I seemed but a poor\npilgrim. I was sick and ye visited me, and surely shall ye receive\npayment from your King.'\n\nThen Cosmo and Damian knelt in worship and thanked their Lord that they\nhad been counted worthy to minister to His need.\n\nBut soon the fame of Cosmo and Damian began to be spread abroad, and the\nwicked Proconsul of Arabia heard about their good deeds. As soon as he\nknew they were Christians, and helped the poor and suffering, he was\nfilled with rage, and sent and ordered that the two brothers should be\ncast alive into the sea.\n\nImmediately Cosmo and Damian were seized and led up to the steep cliffs,\nand the guards bound them hand and foot. Not a complaint escaped their\nlips, not a sign of fear, as the soldiers raised them on high and flung\nthem over into the cruel sea, far below. But as the crowd above watched\nto see them sink, a great fear and amazement seized the soldiers, for\nfrom the calm blue sea they beheld the brothers rise slowly and walk\ntowards the shore, led by an angel who guided them with loving care until\nthey were safe on land.\n\nIn a greater rage than ever, the Proconsul ordered that a great fire\nshould be made and that the brothers should be cast into the midst of\nit and burnt to death.\n\nBut though the fire roared and blazed before Cosmo and Damian were\ncast in; as soon as it touched them it died down and nothing could make\nit burn again. It seemed as if God's good gifts refused to injure His\nservants.\n\nAfter that they were bound to two crosses and the soldiers were ordered\nto stone them. But the stones did no harm to those two patient figures,\nbut instead fell backwards and injured the men who threw them.\n\nThen every one cried out that they were enchanters, and it was ordered\nthat to make sure of their death they should be beheaded.\n\nSo the work of the two saint doctors was finished on earth, but for many\nyears afterwards those who were ill would pray to these saints for their\nprotection.\n\nThere is a legend which tells how a poor man in Rome had a leg which the\ndoctors feared would cause his death. So he prayed to Saint Cosmo and\nSaint Damian and asked them to help him in his need. And that night when\nhe was asleep, he saw the doctor saints standing at his bedside in their\nred robes and caps trimmed with fur. One held a knife and the other a\npot of ointment.\n\n'What shall we do to replace this leg when we have cut it off?' asked\nSaint Cosmo.\n\n[Illustration: AN ANGEL GUIDED THEM WITH LOVING CARE.]\n\n'A black man has just died and been buried near here,' answered Saint\nDamian. 'He no longer needs his legs, so let us take one of them and put\nit on instead.'\n\nSo they cut off the bad leg and fetched the leg of the black man, and\nwith the ointment joined it on to the living man.\n\nAnd when he awoke he believed he must have dreamt about the visit\nof the saints, but when he looked at his leg, behold! it was black and\nperfectly sound and well. Then they sent and searched for the black\nbody, and on it they found a white leg. So the man knew that the doctor\nsaints had heard his prayers, and had come to cure him.\n\nThat is one of the wonderful stories which have grown up round the names\nof Saint Cosmo and Saint Damian.\n\nWhile we cannot tell if these things really happened, this we do surely\nknow to be true, that these two brothers, who lived in an age when men\nwere cruel and selfish, spent their whole lives in trying to help those\nwho suffered pain, and then went bravely to death in the service of\ntheir King. And though we know but little about them, they have left us\nan example of patient kindliness and helpfulness; and they teach us that\nas servants of their King we also are bound in honour to protect the\nweak and help those who suffer, whether they are people like ourselves\nor God's dumb creatures.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT MARTIN\n\n\nIt was a cold winter's day in the city of Amiens, and the wind swept\nalong the great Roman road outside the city gates with such an icy blast\nthat the few people who were out of doors wrapped themselves closer in\ntheir cloaks, and longed for their sheltering homes and warm firesides.\n\nBut there was one poor old man who had no cloak to wrap around him, and\nno fireside of which to dream. He shivered as the searching wind came\nsweeping past him, and his half-blind eyes looked eagerly up and down\nthe road to see if any one was coming who might help him in his need.\nOne by one the people hurried past and paid no heed to the beggar's\noutstretched hand. It was much too cold to stop or to think of giving\nhelp, and not even a beggar could expect it on such a day as this. So\nthey left the poor old man hungry and cold and homeless.\n\nThen a young soldier came riding past, but the beggar scarcely thought\nof asking alms of him, for the Roman soldiers were not the kind of men\nto trouble themselves about the poor and suffering.\n\nThe old man closed his eyes, weary and hopeless, for it seemed as if\nthere was none to help nor pity him. Then in a moment he felt a warm\ncloak thrown around his shoulders, and in his ears sounded a kind voice\nwhich bade him wrap it close around him to keep out the cold.\n\nHalf bewildered the beggar looked up, and saw the young soldier bending\nover him. He had dismounted from his horse and held a sword in his hand,\nwith which he had just cut his own cloak in half, that he might share it\nwith the shivering old man.\n\nThe passers-by laughed and hurried on, but the soldier did not care if\nthey mocked him, for he was quite happy to think he had helped one who\nneeded help so sorely.\n\nThe name of this young soldier was Martin, and he served in the Roman\narmy with his father, who was a famous general. Most of Martin's\nfellow-soldiers were pagans, but he was a Christian, and served the\nemperor well, because he served Christ first.\n\nThe very night after Martin had divided his cloak with the beggar he\nhad a dream, in which he saw his Master, Christ, among the holy angels,\nwearing the half cloak which Martin had given away that afternoon.\nAnd as he looked, he heard Christ's voice speaking to the angels, and\nsaying:\n\n'Know ye who hath clothed Me with this cloak? My servant Martin, who is\nyet unbaptized, hath done this.'\n\nThen Martin awoke, and he did not rest until Christ's seal of baptism\nwas set upon his brow, and he felt that he had enlisted truly in God's\nservice.\n\nNow Martin knew that to be God's servant meant doing everything day\nby day as well as it could be done, and serving his earthly master as\nfaithfully and diligently as he tried to serve his heavenly commander.\nSo it came to pass that for all the fourteen years he served in the\nemperor's army, he was known as the best and bravest soldier, and one\nwho had never failed to do his duty.\n\nBut as he began to grow old, he longed to serve God in other ways, and\nso he went to the emperor and asked for permission to leave the army.\n\nThere was war going on just then, for Rome was ever fighting with the\nbarbarians who came up against her, and the emperor was very angry when\nhe heard Martin's request.\n\n'You seek to leave the army because you fear to fight,' he said\nscornfully to Martin, who stood silently before him. 'A Roman soldier\nshould scorn to be a coward.'\n\n'I am no coward,' answered Martin and he met with unflinching look the\nangry gaze of the emperor. 'Place me alone in the front of the battle,\nwith no weapon but the cross alone, and I shall not fear to meet the\nenemy single-handed and unarmed.'\n\n'Well said,' answered the emperor quickly; 'we will take thee at thy\nword. To-morrow thou shalt stand defenceless before the enemy, and so\nshall we judge of thy boasted courage.'\n\nThen the emperor ordered his guards to watch Martin that night lest he\nshould try to escape before the trial could be made. But Martin had\nno thought of escape, and was ready and eager to do as he had said.\n\nMeanwhile, however, the enemy began to fear that they had no chance\nagainst the Roman army; and very early in the morning, they sent\nmessengers to ask for peace, offering to give themselves up to the\nmercy of the emperor.\n\nSo Martin was set at liberty, and no one doubted his courage and\nfaithfulness; since they believed that his faith in God had brought\npeace, and given them the victory over their enemies.\n\nSoon after this Martin was allowed to leave the army, and he journeyed\nfrom place to place telling those who had never heard it before the good\nnews of Jesus Christ.\n\nIn those days it was dangerous to go among the mountains unarmed, for\nrobbers and brigands made their home there, and would swoop down on\nunsuspecting travellers and rob or murder them.\n\nBut Martin took no companions with him, and with no weapon but the\ncross, he climbed the mountain roads defenceless and alone.\n\nOne day, as he journeyed, a company of brigands appeared suddenly, as\nif they had started out of the rocks. They seized him roughly, and one\nof them aimed a blow at his head with an axe. But before the blow could\nfall, another robber turned the axe aside and claimed Martin as his\nprisoner. Then they tied his hands behind him and bound him fast, while\nthey made up their minds which would be the best way to kill him.\n\nBut Martin sat calm and untroubled, and seemed to have no fear of these\nterrible men.\n\n'What is thy name, and who art thou?' asked the brigand who had claimed\nMartin as his prisoner.\n\n'I am a Christian,' answered Martin simply.\n\n'And art thou not afraid of the tortures which await thee, that thou\ndost seem so calm and fearless?' asked the robber, wondering at the\npeaceful look upon the prisoner's face.\n\n'I fear nothing that thou canst do to me,' answered Martin, 'for I am a\nservant of the great King, and He will defend His own. But I do indeed\ngrieve for thee, because thou livest by robbery and violence, and art\ntherefore unworthy of the mercy of my Lord.'\n\nThe astonished robber asked him what he meant, and who this great King\nwas whom he served; so Martin told him the whole story of God's love,\nand of the coming of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.\n\nNo words so wonderful had ever been spoken to this brigand before, and\nas he listened he believed that what Martin said was true. The first\nthing he did was to cut the rope which bound his prisoner's hands and to\nset him free; and after that he led him in safety through the mountain\npasses, until he reached a road that led to the plains below.\n\nHere they parted, and the brigand knelt and asked Martin to pray for\nhim that he might lead a new life. So there was one less robber on that\nlonely road, and one more Christian fighting the battles of the Lord.\n\nAlthough Martin loved to dwell in lonely places, he was always ready to\ngo where he was most needed, and so a great part of his life was spent\nin busy towns. When he was made Bishop of Tours and could no longer live\nin the solitude he loved, still he strove to be the best bishop it was\npossible to become, just as when he was a soldier he tried to be as good\na soldier as he knew how to be.\n\nNow Martin was growing an old man, yet he was very little changed since\nthat long ago day when he divided his cloak with the poor beggar outside\nthe gates of Amiens. It is said that one day when he was serving at\nthe altar, in all his beautiful bishop's robes, he saw a ragged beggar\nstanding near shivering with cold. At first he bade his deacon give\nhim clothing, but the deacon was too slow to please the kind heart of\nthe bishop, and so he went himself and took off his gold-embroidered\nvestment and put it tenderly round the shoulders of the beggar. Then\nas the service went on, and the bishop held up the holy chalice, the\nkneeling crowd saw with wonder that angels were hovering round and were\nhanging chains of gold upon the upraised arms to cover them, because the\nrobe Martin had given to the beggar had left them bare.\n\nNow the Evil One looked with great mistrust and disfavour upon Martin,\nfor the good bishop won more souls by his love and gentleness than the\nEvil One cared to lose. All the preaching and sternness of other good\nmen were not half so dangerous to the plans of the Evil One as the pity\nand kindness of Martin. So one day the Evil One met Martin and began to\nmock at him.\n\n'Thy faith is beautiful indeed,' he said scornfully; 'but how long do\nthy sinners remain saints? They have but to pretend a little sorrow for\ntheir sins, and lo! in thy eyes they are immediately saved.'\n\n'Oh, poor, miserable Spirit that thou art!' answered Martin. 'Dost thou\nnot know that our Saviour refuses none who turn to Him? Even thou, if\nthou wouldst but repent, might find mercy with my Lord.'\n\nThe Evil One did not stop to answer the bishop, but disappeared with\ngreat swiftness. Later on he returned, as we shall see.\n\nThe fame of Martin's life spread far and near, and the rich as well as\nthe poor did him honour. The emperor and empress invited him over and\nover again to come to their court, but Martin steadily refused, for he\nloved best to work among the poor.\n\nA time came, however, when he saw that he might do great good if he\ncould persuade the emperor to cease from persecuting the Christians; and\nso at last he agreed to attend a banquet at the palace and to be the\nemperor's guest.\n\nEverything was as gorgeous and splendid as possible, for the emperor\nwished to do honour to the bishop, who was the one man who dared to\nspeak truly to him and not to flatter him with mere words.\n\nBut Martin scarcely seemed to notice all the grandeur and brilliance\nof the entertainment. And when, at the banquet, the emperor took the\nwine-cup and passed it to his guest, expecting him to bless it and\nrespectfully hand it back, Martin turned quietly round instead, and\npassed the jewelled cup to a poor priest who stood behind. This he did\nto show the astonished emperor that in his eyes the poorest of God's\nservants was to be considered before the greatest ruler upon earth.\n\nIt was not long after this that the Evil One again visited Martin.\nBut this time he disguised himself that he might not be known.\n\nIt was evening and Martin was praying in his cell, when a bright light\nfilled the place, and in the midst of the light he saw a figure clad in\nroyal robes and with a crown of gold and jewels upon his head. His face\nwas shining and beautiful, so that no one could have guessed he was the\nEvil One. Martin could only gaze upon him in dazzled silence, for his\nshining beauty was beyond all words.\n\nThen the Evil One spoke, and the sound of his voice was like music.\n\n'Martin,' he said, 'dost thou not see that I am Christ? I have come\nagain upon earth, and it is to thee that I have first showed myself.'\n\nBut Martin still gazed silently at him and answered nothing.\n\n'Martin,' said the Evil One again, 'why dost thou not believe? Canst\nthou not see that I am Christ?'\n\nThen Martin answered slowly:\n\n'It seemeth strange to me that my Lord should come in glittering\nclothing and a golden crown. Unless thou canst show the marks of the\nnails and spear, I cannot believe that thou art He.'\n\nAt these words, with a horrible thunder-clap, the Evil One disappeared,\nand Martin saw him no more.\n\nYears passed, and Martin lived a long and useful life; but he was\ngrowing weary now, and when God's call came, he gladly prepared to enter\ninto his rest, and to leave the world where he had laboured so long and\nfaithfully.\n\nThe night that Martin died he was seen in a vision by one of his friends\nwho loved him more than all the rest. The saint's robe was shining white\nand his eyes were like stars and, as the friend knelt and worshipped, he\nfelt a soft touch upon his head and heard a voice that blessed him ere\nthe vision faded.\n\nAnd so Martin finished his earthly work, and went to hear from his\nMaster's lips the gracious words: 'Well done, good and faithful servant.'\n\n\n\n\nSAINT GEORGE\n\n\nEvery nation has its own patron saint whom the people love to honour,\nand who is looked upon not only as their protector in war and peace, but\nas a model of all that is best and highest and most worthy to be copied\nin their own lives.\n\nEver since the days of the Crusades, when our lion-hearted King Richard\nwent to fight the infidels in the Holy Land, the special saint whom\nEngland has delighted to honour has been Saint George. 'For Saint George\nand Merrie England' rang out the old battle-cry; and the greatest honour\nwhich our kings can bestow--the Order of the Garter--is really the Order\nof Saint George, and bears upon it the picture of his great adventure.\nAnd when you have heard the story of Saint George you will not wonder\nthat England took him for her special saint, and as an example for all\nher sons to follow.\n\nSaint George was born far away in Cappadocia, in the year 303 A.D. His\nfather and mother were nobles of that country and were also Christians,\nalthough they lived under the rule of the heathen Emperor Diocletian.\n\nSaint George's father, who was a soldier, was often away in the service\nof the emperor. So it was the mother who had most to do with the care\nand training of their only son. It must have been, then, from her that\nthe boy learned that gentle reverence towards all women, which made him\ntheir protector and champion all his life.\n\nWhen he was seventeen, he too became a soldier like his father, and\nthe shining sword, which he then buckled on, was kept all his life as\nstainless as his honour. He never drew it in a wrong cause, but held it\nas a trust given to him to defend the right and protect the weak and\nhelpless.\n\nNow in the same country there was a city called Selem, whose people had\nonce been as happy and prosperous as any in the land, but which was now\nthe most miserable spot in all the world.\n\nThe city itself was beautiful with splendid palaces and gay gardens,\nand the king who ruled there was wise and good. But outside the city\nwall stretched a grey, sullen-looking lake, half marsh and half stagnant\nwater, and in this gloomy bog there lived a dreadful monster called a\ndragon. No one knew exactly what he was like, for those who were so\nunfortunate as to have been near enough to see him plainly had been\nkilled by his fiery breath, which came rolling out from his great\nyawning throat. He did not seem to walk nor to fly, although he had\nwhat looked like wings and huge flat feet, but always moved along with\na crawling motion most horribly swift.\n\nNothing was safe from this terrible monster. One by one the sheep and\noxen belonging to the city were devoured by him, and when the people\nhad no more food to give him, he crawled towards the city, and his\ndreadful fiery breath warned them that he was coming closer and that\nthey would soon be carried off, one by one, and devoured.\n\nIn their despair and terror, the king and all the people agreed to cast\nlots each day; and it was settled that the one on whom the lot fell\nshould be put outside the gates to feed the monster, so that the rest\nmight live in safety. This was done for many days, and the grief and\nsuffering in that city was terrible to behold. But the darkest day of\nall was when the lot fell upon Cleodolinda, the king's only daughter.\nShe was very beautiful, and the king loved her more than all else\nbeside, so in his anguish he called his people together, and in a\ntrembling voice, his grey head bowed with grief, he spoke to them:\n\n'She is my only child--I cannot give her up. Take rather all my gold and\njewels, even the half of my kingdom; only spare my daughter, the one\ntreasure of my heart.'\n\nBut the people were very angry, and would not listen to the king, for\nthey too had lost their children, and it made them savage and cruel.\n\n'We will not spare the princess,' they growled in low threatening tones;\n'we have given up our own children, and why shouldst thou withhold\nthine? Didst thou not agree with us to cast the lots? Why shouldst thou\nmake one law for us and another for thyself?'\n\nAnd they threatened to burn down the palace and kill both the king and\nCleodolinda if she was not given up to them at once.\n\nThen the king saw there was no hope of deliverance, and he promised that\nin eight days the princess should be ready for the sacrifice. Those\nwere eight sad days at the palace, for all was dark and hopeless there,\nand the only person who did not give way to despair was the Princess\nCleodolinda herself. She spent her time trying to comfort her father,\nand told him she had no fear, but rather that she was glad to think she\nwas to die to save his people.\n\nSo the fatal day arrived when the monster was to be fed, and the\nprincess came out to meet the crowd stately and calm, dressed in her\nroyal robes as befitted a king's daughter. And when she bade farewell to\nher father, she went forth alone, and the gates of the city were shut\nbehind her.\n\nNow it happened that at the very time that Cleodolinda went out to meet\nthe dragon, and just as she heard the city gates clang heavily behind\nher, Saint George came riding past on his way to join his soldiers.\nHis shining armour and great spear were the only bright things in\nthat gloomy place; but the princess did not see him, for her eyes were\nblinded with tears, and even when he galloped up close to her she did\nnot hear him, for the ground was soft and marshy, and his horse's hoofs\nmade scarcely a sound as he rode past.\n\nSlowly the princess walked along the desolate way towards the sullen\ngrey lake, where the monster was waiting for his meal. The path was\nstrewn with bones, and no grass grew for miles around, for the fiery\nblast of the dragon's breath withered everything it passed over.\nCleodolinda never dreamed that help was near, and started in amazement\nwhen she heard a kind voice speaking to her, and looking up, saw through\nher tears a young knight on horseback, gazing at her with pitying eyes.\nShe thought that he had the handsomest, kindest face she had ever seen,\nand the gentlest and most courteous manner, as he leaned towards her,\nand asked her why she wept, and wherefore she was wandering alone in\nthis dismal place.\n\nCleodolinda told him in a few words the whole sad story, and pointed\nwith trembling hand towards the distant marsh, where already a dark form\nmight be seen crawling slowly out of the grey water.\n\n'See, there he comes!' she cried, in sudden terror. 'Ride fast, kind\nknight, and escape while there is time, for if the monster finds thee\nhere, he will kill thee.'\n\n'And dost thou think I would ride off in safety, and leave thee to\nperish?' asked Saint George.\n\n'Thou canst do nothing,' answered the princess, wringing her hands; 'for\nnought can prevail against this terrible dragon. Thou wilt but perish\nneedlessly in trying to save me, so, I pray thee, fly while there is\ntime.'\n\n'God forbid that I should act in so cowardly a manner,' answered Saint\nGeorge. 'I will fight this hideous creature, and, by God's help and the\nstrength of my good sword, I will conquer him and deliver thee.'\n\nAnd while he was still speaking, the air was filled with a horrible\nchoking smoke, and the dragon came swiftly towards them, half-crawling\nand half-flying, his eyes gleaming, and his mouth opened wide to devour\nthem.\n\nWith a swift prayer for help, Saint George made the sign of the cross,\nand grasping his great spear firmly, spurred his horse and rode straight\nat the monster. The combat was a long and terrible one, and the princess,\nas she watched from behind a sheltering tree, trembled for the safety\nof the brave knight, and gave up all for lost.\n\nBut at last Saint George made a swift forward rush, and drove his spear\nright down the great throat of the monster, and out at the back of his\nhead, pinning him securely to the ground. Then he called to the princess\nto give him her girdle, and this he tied to each end of the spear, so\nthat it seemed like a great bridle, and with it Cleodolinda led the\nvanquished dragon back towards the city.\n\nInside the city gates all the people had been weeping and wailing over\nthe fate of the princess, which they feared might any day be their own,\nand they dared not look out or open the gates until the monster had\nhad time to carry off his victim. So their terror and dismay was great\nindeed when the news spread like wildfire that some one had seen the\ngreat monster come crawling towards the town, instead of returning to\nhis home in the dismal swamp.\n\n[Illustration: S. GEORGE RODE STRAIGHT AT THE MONSTER.]\n\nThey all crowded, trembling with fear, around the watch-tower upon the\nwalls, to see if the dragon was really on his way to attack the city;\nand when they saw the great dark mass moving slowly towards them they\nthought that the end was come, for they could not see Saint George nor\nthe princess, and did not know that she was leading the dragon a\nvanquished prisoner.\n\nSo it was all in vain for a long time that Saint George thundered at\nthe city gates, and demanded that they should be opened. Even when the\npeople saw that the princess was safe and that a knight was with her,\nwhile the monster lay quiet at their feet as if half-dead, they still\nhesitated to open the gates, so great was their terror and astonishment.\n\nBut when they were quite sure that the dragon was bound and could do\nthem no harm, they threw open the gates, and every one crowded to see\nthe wonderful sight, still half-doubting if it could be true, and\nlooking with fear upon the great beast which the princess led by her\ngirdle fastened to the spear of Saint George.\n\nThen the king came in haste from his palace to meet his daughter, and\nnever was a morning of sorrow turned into such a day of joy.\n\nSaint George and the Princess Cleodolinda led the dragon into the\nmarket-place, followed by the wondering crowd; and there Saint George\ndrew his sword and cut off the head of the hideous monster. Then were\nthe people sure that they were indeed delivered from their great enemy\nfor ever, and they burst forth into wild rejoicings. They would have\ngiven all they possessed to Saint George in their joy and gratitude;\nbut he told them that the only reward he desired was that they should\nbelieve in the true God, and be baptized Christians. It was not difficult\nto believe in the God who had helped Saint George to do this great deed,\nand very soon the king and the princess and all the people were baptized\nas Saint George desired.\n\nThen the king presented the brave knight with great treasures of gold\nand jewels, but all these Saint George gave to the poor and went his\nway; keeping nought for himself but his own good sword and spear, ready\nto defend the right and protect the weak as he had served the princess\nin her need.\n\nBut when he returned to his own city he found that the emperor had\nwritten a proclamation against the Christians, and it was put up in all\nthe market-places and upon the doors of the temples, and all who were\nChristians were hiding in terror, and dared not show themselves openly.\n\nThen Saint George was filled with righteous anger, and tore down the\nproclamations in all the public places, and trampled them under foot. He\nwas seized immediately by the guards and carried before the proconsul,\nwho ordered him to be tortured and then put to death.\n\nBut nothing could shake the courage of this brave knight, and through\nall the tortures he bore himself as a gallant Christian should, and met\nhis death with such bravery and calm joy that even his enemies were\namazed at his courage.\n\nAnd so through the many dark ages that followed, when the weak were\noppressed and women needed a knight's strong arm to protect them, men\nremembered Saint George, and the very thought of him nerved their arms\nand made their courage firm. And boys learned from him that it was a\nknightly thing to protect the weak, and to guard all maidens from harm;\nand that a pure heart, a firm trust in good and true courage could meet\nand overcome any monster, however terrible and strong.\n\nAnd of all nations it befits us most that our men and boys should be\nbrave and courteous; for Saint George is our own patron saint, the model\nof all that an English knight should be.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI\n\n\nIn the sunny land of Italy, high upon hills covered with olive-trees,\nnestles the little town of Assisi. Such a strange little town it is,\nwith its tall city walls and great gateways, its narrow, steep streets,\nand houses with wide, overhanging eaves. The road that leads up from\nthe plain below is so steep, as it winds upwards among the silver\nolive-trees, that even the big white oxen find it a toil to drag the\ncarts up to the city gates, and the people think it quite a journey\nto go down to the level land below.\n\nNow, it was in this same little hill-town, many years ago, that Saint\nFrancis was born.\n\nThey did not know that he was going to be a great saint--this little,\ndark-eyed Italian baby, who came to gladden his mother's heart one\nautumn day in the long ago year of 1182, when his father, Pietro\nBernardone, was away in France. He seemed just like any other baby, and\nonly his mother, perhaps, thought him the most wonderful baby that ever\nwas born. (But mothers always think that, even if their babies do not\ngrow up to be real saints.) She called him Giovanni at first, but when\nhis father came home he named the little son Francesco, which means\n'the Frenchman,' because he was so pleased with all the money he had\nmade in France. So the child from that day was always called Francesco,\nwhich is his real Italian name, although we in England call him Francis.\n\nSoon he grew into a happy, daring boy, the leader in all the games and\nevery kind of fun. He was the pride of his father and mother, and the\nfavourite of the whole town; for although he was never out of mischief,\nhe never did a cruel or unkind thing, and was ever ready to give away\nall he had to those who needed help.\n\nAnd when he grew older he was still the gayest of all the young men\nof Assisi, and wore the costliest and most beautiful clothes, for his\nfather had a great deal of money and grudged him nothing.\n\nThen came a sad day when Francis fell sick, and for a while they feared\nthat he must die. But, although he grew slowly better, he was never\nquite the same Francis again. He did not care about his gay companions,\nor the old happy life. There was real work to be done in the world, he\nwas sure. Perhaps some special work was waiting for his hand, and with\nwistful eyes he was ever looking for a sign that would show him what\nthat work was to be.\n\nWalking one day along the winding road, dreaming dreams as he gazed far\nacross the misty plains, catching glimpses of far-away blue mountains\nthrough the silver screen of the olive-trees, he was stopped by a poor\nold beggar, who asked him for the love of God to help him.\n\nFrancis started from his day-dreams, and recognised the man as an old\nsoldier who had fought for his country with courage and honour.\n\nWithout stopping to think for a moment, Francis took off his gay cloak\nand tenderly wrapped it round the shoulders of the shivering old man.\n\nHe never thought that any reward would be given him for his kind action,\nbut that very night Christ came to him in a glorious vision, and,\nleading him by the hand, showed him a great palace full of shining\nweapons and flags of victory, each one marked with the sign of the\ncross. Then, as Francis stood gazing at these wonderful things, he heard\nthe voice of Christ telling him that these were the rewards laid up for\nthose who should be Christ's faithful soldiers, fighting manfully under\nHis banner.\n\nWith a great joy in his heart Francis awoke, and hurriedly left home to\njoin the army, thinking only of earthly service, and longing to win the\nheavenly reward.\n\nBut in the quiet night he heard again the voice of Christ telling him\nthat the service he was seeking was not what Christ required of his\nsoldiers.\n\nTroubled and sad, Francis went back to Assisi and, when he was once more\ninside the city walls, turned aside to pray in the little ruined church\nof Saint Damiano. And as he prayed once more he heard the voice speaking\nto him, and saying, 'Francis, repair my church.'\n\nNow, Francis thought this meant that he was to build up the ruined walls\nof the little church in which he prayed. He did not understand that the\ncommand was that he should teach the people, who make up Christ's Church\non earth, to be pure and good and strong.\n\nFrancis was only too glad to find that here at last was some real work\nto be done, and never stopping to think if he was doing right, he went\njoyfully home and took some of the richest stuffs which his father had\nfor sale. These he carried off to the market, and sold them for quite a\nlarge sum of money. Then, returning to the little church, he gave the\nmoney to the old priest, telling him to rebuild the walls and to make\nthe whole place beautiful.\n\nBut the priest refused to accept the money, for he was afraid that\nFrancis had done wrong in taking the stuffs, and that his father would\nbe angry.\n\nThis was a great disappointment to Francis, and made him think that\nperhaps he had been too hasty. He was afraid to go home and tell what\nhe had done, so he hid himself for some days. But at last, tired and\nhungry, with his gay clothes stained with dust, he slowly walked back\nto his father's house.\n\nAnd very angry, indeed, was Pietro Bernardone when he found out what his\nson had done. He did not mind giving Francis money for fine clothes or\npleasures of any kind, and he had allowed him to be as extravagant as he\nliked. But to want money to build up an old church, or to spend in doing\ngood, that was not to be thought of for a moment.\n\nOut he came in a furious rage and drove Francis indoors, and there shut\nhim up in a dark cellar, bound hand and foot, so that he could not escape.\n\nBut though his father was so angry, his mother could not bear to see her\nson suffer, whether he deserved it or not. So she stole down when no\none was there, and, unlocking the cellar door, she spoke gently to poor\nFrancis, and listened to all his story. Then she took off his chains and\nset him free, telling him to go quickly before any one should see him.\n\nFrancis had no place to shelter in but the little ruined church, and no\nfriend who would receive him but the poor old priest, so back he went to\nSaint Damiano, leaving parents and home and comforts behind him.\n\nHis father, of course, was terribly angry when he found that Francis had\nescaped, and he went at once to complain to the bishop, and demand that\nFrancis should be punished and made to give back the money he had taken.\n\nThe bishop spoke kindly to Francis, who promised gladly to give back\nthe money which had brought him so much trouble. And there, in the\nmarket-place, with all the people looking on, he took off his costly\nclothes, now all stained and worn, and standing pale and thin, wearing\nonly a hair shirt, he gave clothes and money back to his angry father,\nsaying--\n\n'Listen, all of you. Until this time I have called Pietro Bernardone\nfather, but from this moment I will say no more \"my father Pietro\nBernardone,\" but only \"my Father which art in Heaven.\"'\n\nThen the good bishop came quickly up and wrapped his mantle round the\npoor shivering lad, and gave him his blessing, bidding him henceforth\nbe a true servant of God. A poor labourer gave Francis his rough brown\ntunic, and the people were moved with pity and would have helped him,\nfor they thought he had been treated very harshly.\n\nBut Francis wandered away alone into the world, seeking to do all the\nthings he had most disliked doing, even at one time nursing the poor\nlepers, and begging his bread from door to door.\n\nSoon, however, he made his way back to Assisi, and to the little ruined\nchurch; and began building up the walls with his own hands, carrying the\nstones on his shoulders, happy and contented to be doing work for God.\n\nAnd the more he thought of his past life and the wasteful splendour in\nwhich he had lived, the more he came to see that to be poor for Christ's\nsake was best of all.\n\n'If Christ chose to become poor for our sakes,' thought he, 'surely it\nis but right that we should choose to become poor for His dear sake.'\n\nIt seemed to Francis that no one had really loved poverty since the days\nwhen our blessed Lord had lived amongst the poor on earth. And he began\nto think of poverty as a beautiful lady who had been despised and\nill-treated all these long years, with no one to take her part or see\nany charm in her fair face.\n\nFor himself he made up his mind to love her with all his heart, to be as\npoor as his Master had been, and to possess nothing here on earth.\n\nEven his coarse brown habit had been given to him in charity, and instead\nof a belt he tied round his waist a piece of rope which he found by the\nwayside. He wore no shoes nor stockings, but went barefoot, and had no\ncovering for his head. And being so truly poor was the greatest joy to\nhim. He thought the Lady Poverty was a fairer bride than any on earth,\nthough her clothes were ragged and her pathway lined with thorns. For\nalong that thorny path she led him closer to his Master, and taught him\nto tread more nearly in His footsteps than most of His servants have\never trod.\n\nOne day when Francis was reading the gospel, Christ's call seemed to\nsound in his ears just as it did to Saint Matthew of old. He had often\nread the words before, but that day they had a new message for him: 'As\nye go, preach, saying the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. Provide neither\ngold, nor silver, nor brass in your purses, neither two coats, neither\nshoes nor yet staves.'\n\nThen he knew that Christ did not want him only to be good, but to teach\nothers how to be good, and to look after Christ's poor and sick, always\nremaining poor and lowly himself. And as soon as he heard the call he\nrose up, left all, and followed his Master to his life's end.\n\nVery soon other men joined Francis, eager to serve Christ as he did.\nThey all dressed just as Francis dressed, and became quite as poor as he\nwas. Their home was in the plain below Assisi, by the little chapel of\nSaint Mary of the Angels, which had been given to the brothers. But it\nwas not often that they were there all together, for Francis sent them\nout to preach to all the world just as the gospel commanded.\n\nIn spite of their poverty the 'Little Poor Brothers,' as they were\ncalled, were a happy, cheerful little company. Francis had just the same\ngay nature and ready smile as when he was a boy in Assisi, and though he\nmight have to go long solitary journeys on foot, sleeping in caves or in\nwoods, hungry and footsore, he was never sad nor lonely. He seemed to\nlove everything that God had made, and all the animals and birds were\nhis special friends. They were never frightened of him, and when he\nwalked in the woods the birds would come and perch on his shoulder and\nsing their good-morning to him.\n\nAnd sometimes Francis would stand still and let them all come round him,\nand would preach a little sermon to them, telling them how they ought to\npraise God for His goodness.\n\n'Little sisters' he always called them, and it is said they would listen\nquietly while he spoke, and then when he gave them his blessing, they\nwould rise up to heaven singing their hymn of praise, just as if they\nhad really understood their little service.\n\nOnce when Francis and some of the brothers were returning home, they\nheard a great number of birds singing among the bushes. And when Francis\nsaw them he said to his companions--\n\n'Our sisters, the birds, are praising their Maker. Let us go into their\nmidst and sing our service too.'\n\nThe birds were not in the least disturbed, but continued their chirping\nand twittering, so that the brothers could not hear their own voices.\nThen Francis turned to the birds and said--\n\n'Little sisters, cease your song until we have given God our praise.'\nAnd they at once were quiet, and did not begin to sing again until the\nservice was over.\n\nAnd it was not only the birds that loved him, but every kind of creature\ncame to him for comfort and shelter.\n\nNow this is a story which was told about Francis after he was dead, when\npeople tried to remember all the wonderful things that he had done, and\nperhaps made them a little more wonderful, out of love of Saint Francis.\n\nOnce when the saint was living in the city of Agolio a terribly fierce\nwolf began to prowl about the town. He carried off everything eatable he\ncould find, and grew so bold that he even seized the children and made\noff to his mountain den with them. The whole town was terrified, and\npeople scarcely dared go out of doors for fear of meeting the terrible\nwolf. And though the men hunted him, he always escaped and came prowling\ndown at nightfall again.\n\nWhen Saint Francis heard this he said--\n\n'I will go out and meet this wolf, and ask him what he means.'\n\n'He will kill you,' cried all the people, and they tried to persuade him\nnot to go.\n\nBut Saint Francis set out, taking some of the brothers with him. They\nwent bravely along for a short way, and then the brothers turned back\nafraid and ran home, leaving Saint Francis alone. And presently he heard\na deep growling and the sound of a terrible rush, and the great wolf,\nwith blazing eyes and open mouth, came bounding towards him. But as he\ncame nearer Saint Francis went forward to meet him, and making the sign\nof the cross, he said: 'Come hither, brother wolf. I command thee in the\nname of Christ that thou do no more harm to me nor to any one.'\n\n[Illustration: THEN THE POPE TOOK THE LITTLE POOR BROTHERS UNDER HIS\nPROTECTION.]\n\nAnd then a wonderful thing happened; for, as soon as the wolf heard the\nsaint's voice, he stopped, and then came gently forward, and lay like\na lamb at St. Francis's feet. Then Saint Francis talked quietly to him,\nand told him he deserved to be punished for all the evil he had done,\nbut if he would promise to kill and plunder no more, the people of\nAgolio would promise on their side to give him food every day. And the\nwolf rubbed his head against Saint Francis's habit and gently laid his\npaw in the saint's hand. And always after that the good people of Agolio\nused to put out food for the wolf, and he grew so good and tame that he\nwent quietly from door to door, and never did harm to any one again.\n\nWhether all this really happened we do not know; but one thing we are\ncertain of, and that is, that Francis loved all living creatures, and\nthey seemed to know it and to love him too.\n\nIt was not long before the little band of brothers grew into quite a\nlarge company, and Francis went to Rome to ask the Pope, the head of the\nChurch, to give them his blessing, and his permission to live together\nunder their rule of poverty. All the world was astonished at this\nstrange man, in his coarse brown robe, who preached to them that riches\nwere not worth having, and that the greatest happiness was to be good\nand pure.\n\nAt first the Pope would have nothing to do with him. But one night he\nhad a dream, and in his dream he saw a church leaning on one side, and\nalmost falling. And the only thing that kept it from falling quite over\nwas a poor man, barefooted and dressed in a coarse brown robe, who had\nhis shoulder against it and was holding it up.\n\nThen the Pope knew that God had sent the dream to him, and that Francis\nwas going to be a great helper in the Church. So next day he called for\nFrancis and granted him all that he asked, and took the Little Poor\nBrothers under his protection.\n\nSoon the company grew larger and larger, and Francis sent them all over\nthe country, preaching and teaching men that they should deny themselves\nand love poverty rather than riches.\n\nStill they always kept the little home at Saint Mary of the Angels, and\nthe brothers returned there after their preaching was ended.\n\nThe convent was built close to a wood, and this wood was the place\nFrancis loved best. For he could be quite alone there, to pray and\nmeditate, with no one to disturb his thoughts. And often, when all the\nother brothers were asleep, he would steal quietly out and kneel for\nhours under the silent trees, alone with God.\n\nNow there was a little boy at the convent who loved Francis very much,\nand wanted to know all that he did, that he might learn to grow like\nhim. Especially he wondered why Francis went alone into the dark wood,\nbut he was too sleepy to keep awake to see. It was a very poor convent,\nand all the brothers slept on mats on the floor, for they had not\nseparate cells. At last one night the boy crept close to the side of\nFrancis, and spread his mat quite close to his master's, and in case he\nshould not wake he tied his little cord to the cord which Francis wore\nround his waist. Then he lay down happily and went to sleep.\n\nBy and by when every one was asleep, Francis got up as usual to pray.\nBut he noticed the cord and gently untied it, so that the boy slept on\nundisturbed. Presently, however, the child awoke, and finding his cord\nloose and his master gone, he got up and followed him into the wood,\ntreading very softly with his bare feet that he might disturb nobody.\n\nIt was very dark, and he had to feel his way among the trees; but\npresently a bright light shone out, and as he stole nearer he saw a\nwonderful sight. His master was kneeling there, and with him was the\nBlessed Virgin, holding our dear Lord in her arms, and many saints were\nthere as well. And over all was a great cloud of the holy angels. The\nvision and the glorious brightness almost blinded the child, and he fell\ndown as if he were dead.\n\nNow when Francis was returning home he stumbled over the little body\nlying there, and guessing what had happened he stooped down and tenderly\nlifted him up, and carried him in his arms, as the Good Shepherd carries\nHis lambs. Then the child felt his master's arms round him, and was\ncomforted, and told him of the vision and how it had frightened him.\nIn return Francis bade him tell no one what he had seen as long as his\nmaster was alive. So the old story tells us that the child grew up to\nbe a good man and was one of the holiest of the Little Poor Brothers,\nbecause he always tried to grow like his master. Only after Francis died\ndid he tell the story of the glorious vision which he had seen that\nnight in the dark wood, at the time when no one knew what a great saint\nhis master was.\n\nAs time went on, Francis grew anxious to do more than preach at home;\nfor Christ's message to him had been 'Go ye into all the world.' He had\nset out many times, but always something had prevented him from getting\nfar, until at last he succeeded in reaching the land of the Saracens\nwhere the Crusaders were fighting. His great hope was that he might see\nthe Sultan and teach him about Christ, so that all his people might\nbecome Christians. He had no fear at all, and when every one warned him\nthat he would certainly be put to death, he said that would be a small\nmatter if only he could teach the heathen about God.\n\nBut although the Sultan received Francis, and listened to all he had to\nsay, he only shook his head and refused to believe without a sign.\n\nThen Francis grew more and more eager to convince him, and asked that a\ngreat fire should be made, and that he and the heathen priests should\npass through it, saying that whoever came out unharmed should be held to\nbe the servant of the true God. But the heathen priests all refused to\ndo this, and so poor Francis had to return home, having, he feared, done\nno good, but hoping the good might follow afterwards.\n\nThese weary journeys and all the toil and hardship of his daily life\nbegan to make Francis weak and ill. Many things troubled him too; for\nthe brothers did not love poverty as he did, and they began to make new\nrules and to forget what he had taught them. But in the midst of all\ntrouble, he remained the same humble servant of Christ, always thinking\nof new ways to serve his Master.\n\n[Illustration: HE CHANTED THE GOSPEL AT THE FIRST CHRISTMAS MASS.]\n\nThere was no time Francis loved so much as Christmas. He loved to feel\nthat all living things were happy on that day. He used to say that he\nwished that all governors and lords of the town and country might be\nobliged to scatter corn over the roads and fields, so that 'our sisters\nthe larks,' and all the birds might feast as well. And because the ox\nand the ass shared the stable with the Holy Child, he thought they\nshould be provided with more than ordinary food each Christmas Eve.\n\nHe wished every one to remember how poor and lowly our Lord was on that\nnight when He came as a little child; and so on Christmas Eve he made a\nstable in the chapel, and brought in an ox and an ass and a tiny crib\nand manger. In the manger he placed the figure of a baby to represent\nthe infant Christ, and there in the early hours of the Christmas\nmorning, he chanted the gospel at the first Christmas Mass.\n\nIt was in the spring of the year that Francis first went to the\nhermitage among the mountains, which he loved better than any other\nplace. It was a small hut high among the Apennines, among crags and\nrocks far away from any other place. Here he could wander about the\nwoods, which were carpeted with spring flowers, and hear his little\nsisters the birds singing all day long.\n\nAnd here one day, as he knelt thinking of all his dear Lord had\nsuffered, a wonderful thing happened. The thought of all that trouble\nand pain seemed more than he could bear, and he prayed that he might be\nallowed to suffer as his Master had done. And as he prayed, seeing only\nbefore him the crucified Christ with nail-pierced hands and wounded\nside, God sent the answer to his prayer, and in his hands and feet deep\nmarks appeared, as though there had been nails driven through them, and\nin his side a wound as if from the cruel thrust of a spear.\n\nAnd so Francis learned to suffer as his Master had suffered, and through\nall the pain he only gave God thanks that he had been thought worthy to\nbear the marks that Jesus bore.\n\nFrancis did not live very long after this for he grew weaker and weaker,\nand they carried him back to the old house at Saint Mary of the Angels.\nThere the Little Poor Brothers gathered round him, and he spoke his last\nwords to them, bidding them live always as he had taught them to live,\nin poverty and lowliness. And when evening came, and the birds he loved\nso much were singing their vesper hymns, his voice joined in their\npraise until his soul passed away to the Lord whom he had tried to serve\nso humbly, and in whose footsteps he had sought to place his own.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"In God's Garden: Stories of the Saints for Little Children","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":38137}