CHAPTER VII It was in the days when cruel men killed and tortured those who loved our blessed Lord that in the city of Rome a little maid was born. Her father and mother were amongst the richest and noblest of the Roman people, and their little daughter, whom they called Cecilia, had everything she could possibly want. She lived in a splendid palace, with everything most beautiful around her, and she had a garden to play in, where the loveliest flowers grew. Her little white dress was embroidered with the finest gold, and her face was as fair as the flowers she loved. But it was not only the outside that was beautiful, for the little maiden's heart was fairer than the fairest flowers, and whiter than her spotless robe. There were not many people who loved our Lord in those dark days. Anyone who was known to be a Christian was made to suffer terrible tortures, and was even put to death. But though Cecilia's father and mother knew this, they still taught their little daughter to be a servant of Christ, and to love him above all things, for they knew that the love of Christ was better than life, and worth all the suffering that might come. And as Cecilia grew into a stately maiden, everyone wondered at the grace and beauty that shone out of her face, and everyone loved her because she loved everyone. She was always ready and willing to help others, and she especially cared to be kind to the poor. In the folds of her gold embroidered dress she always carried a little book which she loved to read. It was the book of the Gospels, and the more she read and heard of Christ, the more she longed to grow like him. She could not bear to think that she wore fine dresses, while he had been so poor, and suffered so much.  Some say the meaning of her name Cecilia is Heaven's Lily. And that name certainly suited this little Roman maiden. For as God plants the lilies in the dark earth, and presently they grow up and live their pure white cups to heaven, so Cecilia seemed to lift her heart above the sins and sorrows of the world, where God had planted her, and to turn her face ever heavenwards. And the poor people whom she helped and cheered with her kind sympathy loved to look at her. For the peace of paradise shone in her eyes, and it seemed to bring heaven nearer to the poor souls. As soon as Cecilia was old enough, it was arranged that she should marry a young Roman noble called Valerian, and this made her very unhappy. She had so hoped to belong only to Christ, and this Valerian was a pagan who knew nothing of the Lord whom she served, but she knew that her guardian angel will botch over her and keep her from all harm, and so she obeyed her father's and mother's wishes, and was married to the young Roman noble. When Valerian had taken Cecilia home and all the guests had gone, and they were left alone together, she told him that, though she was married, she belonged first of all to Christ, and that her guardian angel, who never left her, would guard and protect her from all danger. Will thou not show me this angel, so that I may know what thou sayest is true?" asked Valerian. "'Thou canst not see the heavenly messenger, until thou hast learnt to know my Lord,' answered Cecilia. And as Valerian eagerly asked how he should learn to know this Christ, Cecilia told him to go along the great Appian Way, outside the walls of Rome, until he should meet some poor people who lived in the Campania, and to them he should say, "'Cecilia, bids you show me the way that I may find the old man, Urban the Good?' So Valerian started off and went the way Cecilia directed, and the people guided him as she had promised, until they came to a curious opening in the ground, down which they told him he must go if he wished to find Pope Urban. This opening was the entrance to a strange underground place called the Catacombs. There were miles and miles of dark passages cut out of the rock, with here and there a little dark room, and curious shelves hollowed out of the walls. It was here that many poor Christians lived, hiding themselves from those who would have put them to death, and the little shelves were where they buried the bodies of poor Christians who had died for Christ. It was here that the old Pope, Urban the Good, lived, and he welcomed Valerian most gladly, knowing why he had come. He began at once to teach him all that he should know, how God was our Father, and Jesus Christ, his Son, our Saviour. And as Valerian listened to the strange, wonderful words, the love of God shone into his heart, so that when the old man asked, Believe us thou this? He answered with all his heart, All this I steadfastly believe. Then Urban baptized Valerian, and by that sign the young Roman knew that he was indeed a Christian, a servant of Christ. All the world looked different to Valerian as he walked back along the Appian Way to Rome, the flat, low fields of the Campania, fading away into the ridges of the purple Apennines. Seemed almost like the fields of paradise, and the song of the birds was like the voice of angels. He scarcely thought of the dangers and difficulties that were before him, or if he did, it was only to feel glad that he might have anything to bear for his new master. And when he reached home and went back to the room where he had left Cecilia, he found her there waiting for him, with a glad welcome in her eyes, and as they knelt together they heard a rustle of wings, and looking up they saw an angel bending over them, with a crown of lilies and roses in each hand. These he placed upon their heads, and to Valerian he said, Thou hast done well in allowing Cecilia to serve her master. Therefore ask what thou wilt, and thy request shall be granted. Then Valerian asked that his brother, whom he dearly loved, might also learn to know Christ. And just then the door opened, and the brother whom Valerian loved so much came in. He, of course, only saw Valerian and Cecilia, and could not see the angel, or even the wreaths of heavenly roses. But he looked round in astonishment and said, I see no flowers here, and yet the fragrance of roses and lilies is so sweet and strange, that it makes my heart very glad. Then Valerian answered, We have two crowns here, which thou canst not see, because thou knowest not the Lord who sent them to us. But if thou wilt listen, and learn to know him, then shalt thou see the heavenly flowers whose fragrance has filled thy heart. So Valerian and Cecilia told their brother what it meant to be a Christian. And after the good urban had taught him also, he was baptized and became God's knight. Then he, too, saw the heavenly crowns and the face of the angel who guarded heaven's lily. For a while the home of Valerian and Cecilia was like a paradise on earth. There was nothing but happiness there. Cecilia loved music above everything. Her voice was like a bird's, and she sang her hymns of praise and played so exquisitely, that it is said that even the angels came down to listen. But before long it began to be known that Valerian and his brother helped the poor Christians, and the wicked governor of the city ordered them both to be seized and brought before him. He told them that they were but two ways before them. Either they must deny that they were Christians, or they must be put to death. But God's knights did not fear death, and they went out to meet it as if they were on their way to a great victory. And when the soldiers wondered and asked them if it was not sad that they should lose their lives while they were still so young, they answered that what looked like loss on earth was gain in heaven. That they were but laying down their bodies as one puts off one's clothes to sleep at night, for the immortal soul could never die, but would live for ever. So they knelt down, and the cruel blows were struck. But looking up the soldiers saw a great pathway of light shining down from heaven, and the souls of Valerian and his brother were led up by angel hands to the throne of God, there to receive the crowns of everlasting joy which they had won on earth. And so Cecilia was left alone. But she did not spend her time grieving. Gathering the people and soldiers around her, she taught them about the Lord of Heaven, for whose sake Valerian and his brother had so gladly suffered death, and it was not long before she also trod the shining pathway up to heaven and met the ones she loved. For the governor was not satisfied with the death of Valerian and his brother, but ordered Cecilia to be brought before him. What sort of a woman art thou, and what is thy name? He asked. I am a Roman lady, she answered with grave dignity, and among men I am known by the name of Cecilia. But, and her voice rang out proudly as she looked fearlessly into those angry eyes, my noblest name is Christian.  But the boiling water could not hurt her, and she was as cool as if she had bathed in a fresh spring.  But even after she had received three strokes from the sword she did not die, but lived for three days, and these days she spent in quietly putting her house in order and dividing her money among the poor, ever singing in her sweet voice the praises of God. And so at the end of three days God's angel came and led Cecilia home, and all that was left of her on earth was her fair body lying like a tired child asleep, with hands clasped, gently resting now that her work on earth was done. And in Rome to-day there is a splendid church built over the place where Cecilia's house stood. Someday if you go there you will see her little room and the bath in which the boiling water could not hurt her. You will see, too, a beautiful marble figure lying under the altar, and you will know exactly how Cecilia looked when she left her tired body lying there, and went up the shining path to God. It was in the beautiful land of Greece that St. Giles was born, very far away from the grey northern city whose cathedral bears his name. His parents were of royal blood, and were moreover Christians, so the boy was brought up most carefully and taught all that a prince should know. He was a dreamy quiet boy, and what he loved best was to wander out in the green woods by himself, with no companions but the animals and birds and flowers. He would lie for hours watching the birds busily build their nests, or the rabbits as they timidly peeped at him out of their holes.  And they seemed to listen when he talked to them, as if they could understand what he said. One thing they certainly did understand, and that was that he loved them, and would do them no harm. St. Giles could not bear to see anything suffer, and his pity was great for all those in pain, and often he would mend a bird's broken wing, or bind up a little furry foot that had been torn in a trap. And the birds and beasts always lay quiet under his hand, and seemed to know that he would cure them, even though the touch might hurt. It happened that one day, when St. Giles was kneeling in church, he saw a poor beggar lying there on the cold stone floor. He had scarcely any clothes to keep him warm, and his face had a hungry, suffering look, which filled the heart of the saint with pity. He saw that the poor man was ill and trembling with cold. So without a moment's thought he took off his own, warm cloak, and tenderly wrapped it round the beggar. The warmth of the cloak seemed to bring life back to the poor chilled body, and when St. Giles had given him food and wine, he was able to lift himself up, and to bless the kind youth who had helped him. And when the people saw what had happened, they thought St. Giles had worked a miracle, and cured the man by his wonderful touch, for they did not realize that all kind deeds work miracles every day. It did not please St. Giles that people should think he possessed this miraculous gift of healing, and he had no wish to be called a saint. He only longed to lead his own quiet life and to help all God's creatures who needed his care. But the people would not leave him alone, and they brought to him those who were sick and lame and blind, and expected that he would heal them. It is true that many needed only a little human aid, and the food and help which St. Giles gave them would soon make them well again. But there were some he could not help, and it wrung his heart to see their pleading eyes, and to watch them bring out their little store of hard-earned money, eager to buy the aid which he so willingly would have given had he been able. So at last St. Giles determined to leave his native city, for he had been all alone since his father and mother had died. He wished to escape from the anxious crowds that refused to leave him in peace. But first he sold all that he had, and gave it to the poor of the city, an act which made them sure than ever that he was one of God's saints. Then he sailed away across the sea to a far-off country. There St. Giles found a lonely cave in which an old hermit lived. Here at last I shall find peace and quietness, said he to himself, and men will soon forget me. But even here ere long his friends found him, for his fame had spread across the seas. So once more he set out and went further and further away, by past that few had ever trod before, until in the depths of a green forest he found another shelter, a cave among gray rocks overgrown with lichens and hidden by the sheltering boughs of the surrounding trees. St. Giles had always loved the woods, and this was just the home he had longed for. A clear stream flowed not far off, and his only companions would be the birds and beasts and flowers. Early in the morning the birds would wake him with their song, and the wild creatures would come stealing out of the wood to share his meal, and his silent friends, the flowers, would cheer and help him by their beauty, and remind him of God's garden whose gate would one day open for him, where he would wander in the green pastures beside the still waters of life for ever more. But of all his companions the one St. Giles loved best was a gentle white doe who came to him as soon as he settled in the cave. She seemed to have no fear of him from the first, and stayed with him longer and longer each time, until at last she took up her abode with him, and would never leave him, lying close to him when he slept, and walking by his side wherever he went. This peaceful life went on for a long time, and it seemed as if nothing could disturb its quiet happiness. And it happened that one day, as St. Giles was praying in the cave, and his companion, the white doe, was nibbling her morning meal of fresh grass by the banks of the stream, a curious noise was heard afar off. It came nearer and nearer, and then shouts of men's voices could be heard, the sound of horses galloping and the note of the hunter's horn. Then came the deep baying of dogs, and before the startled doe could hide the whole hunt was upon her. With a wild hallou they chased her across the Greensward and through the trees, and just as she disappeared into the cave, one of the huntsmen drew his bow and sent an arrow flying after her. Then they all dismounted and went to see what had become of the hunted doe, and soon found the opening into the cave. But what was their surprise when they burst in to find an old man kneeling there? He was sheltering the terrified doe who had fled to him for refuge, and an arrow had pierced the kind hand that had been raised to shield her. The huntsmen were ashamed of their cruel sport when they saw the wounded hand of the old man and the trembling form of the white doe as it crouched behind him, and they listened with reverence to the hermit's words as he spoke to them of man's duty towards God's dumb creatures. The king of France, who was one of the hunting party, came often after this to see St. Giles, and at last offered to build him a monastery and give him all that he could want. But the old man begged to be left alone in his woodland cave to serve God in peace and quietness. So there he lived quietly and happily for many years, until God took him, and he left his cave for the fairer fields of paradise. People loved the thought of this peaceful old saint who dwelt in the woods and was the protector of all sorrowful and suffering creatures, and so they often called their churches after St. Giles, especially those churches which were built in the fields or near green woods. The surroundings of many of these churches are today changed. There are no fields now round his great cathedral church in the old town of Edinburgh, but the poor and sick and sorrowful crowd very near to its shelter, and the memory of the pitiful heart of the gentle old saint still hovers like a blessing round the gray old walls. CHAPTER IX Of all the saints that little children love, is there any to compare with Santa Claus? The very sound of his name has magic in it, and calls up visions of well-filled stockings, with the presents we particularly want peeping over the top, or hanging out the side, too big to go into the largest sock. Besides, there is something so mysterious and exciting about Santa Claus, for no one seems to have ever seen him. But we picture him to ourselves as an old man with a white beard, whose favorite way of coming into our room is down the chimney, bringing gifts for the good children and punishments for the bad. Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come to us at Christmas time, is a very real saint, and we can learn a great deal about him, only we must remember that his true name is Saint Nicholas. Perhaps the little children who used to talk of him long ago found Saint Nicholas too difficult to say, and so called him their dear Santa Claus. But we learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas is his true name, and that he is a real person who lived long years ago, far away in the east. The father and mother of Nicholas were noble, and very rich, but what they wanted most of all was to have a son. They were Christians, so they prayed to God for many years that he would give them their heart's desire, and when at last Nicholas was born, they were the happiest people in the world. They thought there was no one like their boy, and indeed he was wiser and better than most children, and never gave them a moment's trouble.  All the great riches which his father had possessed were left to Nicholas, and among other things he inherited three bars of gold. These golden bars were his greatest treasure, and he thought more of them than all the other riches he possessed. Now in the town where Nicholas lived, there dwelt a nobleman with three daughters. They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes had overtaken the father, and now they were all so poor they had scarcely enough to live upon. At last a day came when there was not even bread enough to eat, and the daughters said to their father, Let us go into the streets and beg, or do anything to get a little money, that we may not starve. But the father answered, Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at least until to-morrow. Something may happen to save my daughters from such disgrace. Now just as they were talking together, Nicholas happened to be passing, and as the window was open he heard all that the poor father said. It seemed terrible to think that a noble family should be so poor and actually in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan how it would be possible to help them. He knew they would be much too proud to take money from him, so he had to think of some other way. Then he remembered his golden bars, and that very night he took one of them and went secretly to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure without letting the father or daughters know who brought it. To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had been left open, and by standing on tiptoe he could just reach it. So he lifted the golden bar and slipped it through the window, never waiting to hear what became of it, in case anyone should see him. And now do you see the reason why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious? Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watching, while his children slept. He wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere, and he prayed earnestly that heaven would send help. Suddenly something fell at his feet, and to his amazement and joy he found it was a bar of pure gold. "'My child!' he cried as he showed his eldest daughter the shining gold. "'God has heard my prayer, and he sent this from heaven. Now we shall have enough and to spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice together, and I will go instantly and change this treasure!' The precious golden bar was soon sold to a money-changer, who gave so much for it that the family were able to live in comfort and have all that they needed, and not only was there enough to live upon, but so much was over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry, and very soon she was happily married. When Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar had brought to the poor nobleman, he determined that the second daughter should have a dowry too. So he went as before and found the little window again open, and was able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done the first. This time the father was dreaming happily, and did not find the treasure until he awoke in the morning. Soon afterwards the second daughter had heard dowry, and was married too. The father now began to think that, after all, it was not unusual for golden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered if by any chance human hands had placed it in his room. The more he thought of it, the stranger it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep watch every night, in case another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his youngest daughter. And so when Nicholas went the third time, and dropped the last bar through the little window, the father came quickly out, and before Nicholas had time to hide, caught him by his cloak. Oh, Nicholas, he cried, is it thou who has helped us in our need? Why didst thou hide thyself? And then he fell on his knees, and began to kiss the hands that had helped him so graciously. But Nicholas bade him stand up, and give thanks to God instead, warning him to tell no one the story of the golden bars. This was only one of the many kind acts Nicholas loved to do, and it was no wonder that he was beloved by all who knew him. Soon afterwards Nicholas made up his mind to enter God's service as a priest. He longed above all things to leave the world, and live as a hermit in the desert. But God came to him in a vision, and told him he must stay in the crowded cities, and do his work among the people. Still his desire to see the deserts and the hermits who lived there was so great that he went off on a journey to Egypt and the Holy Land. But remembering what God had bade him do, he did not stay there, but returned to his own country. On the way home a terrific storm arose, and it seemed as if the ship he was in must be lost. The sailors could do nothing, and great waves dashed over the deck, filling the ship with water. But just as all had given up hope, Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save them. And immediately a calm fell upon the angry sea. The winds sank to rest, and the waves ceased to lash the sides of the ship, so that they sailed smoothly on, and all danger was passed. Thus Nicholas returned home in safety, and went to live in the city of Myra. His ways were so quiet and humble that no one knew much about him, until it came to pass one day that the Archbishop of Myra died. Then all the priests met to choose another Archbishop, and it was made known to them by a sign from heaven that the first man who should enter the church next morning should be the bishop whom God had chosen. Now Nicholas used to spend most of his nights in prayer, and always went very early to church. So next morning, just as the sun was rising, and the bells began to ring for the early mass, he was seen coming up to the church door, and was the first to enter. As he knelt down quietly to say his prayers as usual, what was his surprise to meet a company of priests who held him as their new Archbishop, chosen by God to be their leader and guide. So Nicholas was made Archbishop of Myra to the joy of all in the city who knew and loved him. Not long after this there was great trouble in the town of Myra, for the harvest of that country had failed, and a terrible famine swept over the land. Nicholas, as a good bishop should, felt the suffering of his people as if it were his own, and did all he could to help them. He knew they must have corn, or they would die, so he went to the harbour where two ships lay filled with grain, and asked the captains if they would sell him their cargo. They told the bishop they would willingly do so, but it was already sold to merchants of another country, and they dared not sell it over again. Take no thought of that, said Nicholas, only sell me some of that corn for my starving people, and I promise thee that there shall be not wanting when thou shalt arrive at thy journey's end. The captains believed in the bishop's promise, and gave him as much corn as he asked, and behold, when they came to deliver their cargo to the owners, there was not a bag lacking. It is said, too, that at the time of this famine there was a cruel innkeeper in Myra who was wicked enough to catch little children, and pickle them in a great tub, pretending they were pork. It happened one day as Nicholas was passing the indoor, that he heard the voices of children crying for help. He went in very quickly, and made his way to the cellar whence the cries had come. There he found the poor children, and not only rescued those who were alive, but by his prayers he brought to life those who had already been killed and cast into the tub. Another time there were two men in Myra who had been unjustly condemned to death, and it was told the bishop how greatly they stood in need of his help. No one ever appealed to Nicholas in vain, and he went off at once to the palace of execution. The executioner was just about to raise his sword when Nicholas seized his arm and wrenched the sword away. Then he set the poor prisoners free, and told the judge that, if he dared to deal so unjustly again, the wrath of heaven and of the bishop of Myra would descend upon him. There are many other stories told about the good bishop. Like his master he ever went about doing good, and when he died there were a great many legends told about him, for the people loved to believe that their bishop still cared for them and would come to their aid. We do not know if all these legends are true, but they show how much St. Nicholas was loved and honored, even after his death, and how everyone believed in his power to help them. Here is one of the stories which all children who love St. Nicholas will like to hear. There was once a nobleman who had no children, and who longed for a son above everything else in the world. Night and day he prayed to St. Nicholas that he would grant him his request, and at last a son was born. He was a beautiful child, and the father was so delighted and so grateful to the saint who had listened to his prayers that every year on the child's birthday he made a great feast in honor of St. Nicholas, and a grand service was held in the church. Now the evil one grew very angry each year when this happened, for it made many people go to church and honor the good saint. Neither of which things pleased the evil one at all, so each year he tried to think of some plan that would put an end to these rejoicings, and he decided at last that if only he could do some evil to the child, the parents would blame St. Nicholas, and all would be well. It happened just then to be the boy's sixth birthday, and a greater feast than ever was being held. It was late in the afternoon, and the gardener and porter and all the servants were away keeping holiday, too, so no one noticed a curious-licking pilgrim who came and sat close to the great iron gates which led into the courtyard. He had on the ordinary robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was drawn so far over his face that nothing but a dark shadow could be seen inside. And indeed that was as well, for this pilgrim was a demon in disguise, and his wicked black face would have frightened any one who saw it. He could not enter the courtyard, for the great gates were always kept locked, and as you know the porter was away that day, feasting with all the other servants. But before very long the little boy grew weary of his birthday feast, and having had all he wanted, he begged to be allowed to go to play in the garden. His parents knew that the gardener always looked after him there, so they told him he might go. They forgot that the gardener was not there just then. The child played happily alone for some time, and then wandered into the courtyard, and, looking out of the gate, saw a poor pilgrim resting there. What are you doing here? asked the child. And why do you sit so still? I am a poor pilgrim, answered the demon, trying to make his harsh voice sound as gentle as possible. And I have come all the way from Rome. I am resting here because I am so weary in footstore, and have had nothing to eat all day. I will let you in and take you to my father, said the child. This is my birthday, and no one must go hungry today. But the demon pretended he was too weak to walk, and begged the boy to bring some food out to him. Then the child ran back to the banquet hall in a great hurry, and said to his father, Oh, Father, there is a poor pilgrim from Rome sitting outside our gate, and he is so hungry, may I take him some of my birthday feast? The father was very pleased to think that his little son should care for the poor, and wish to be so kind. So he willingly gave his permission, and told one of the servants to give the child all that he wanted. Then as the demon sat eating the good things, he began to question the boy, and tried to find out all that he could about him. Do you often play in the garden? He asked. Oh, yes, said the child. I play there whenever I may, for in the midst of the lawn there is a beautiful fountain, and the gardener makes me boats to sail on the water. Will he make you one today? asked the demon quickly. He is not here today, answered the child, for this is a holiday, for every one, and I am quite alone. Then the demon rose to his feet slowly, and said he felt so much better after the good food, that he thought he could walk a little, and would like very much to come in and see the beautiful garden and the fountain he had heard about. So the child climbed up, and with great difficulty drew back the bolts. The great gate swung open, and the demon walked in. As they went along together towards the fountain, the child held out his little hand to lead the pilgrim, that even the demon shrunk from touching anything so pure and innocent, and folded his arms under his robe, so that the child could only hold by a fold of his cloak. What strange kind of feats you have! said the child as they walked along. They look as if they belong to an animal. Yes, they are curious, said the demon, but it is just the way they are made. Then the child began to notice the demon's hands, which were even more curious than his feet, and just like the paws of a bear, but he was too courteous to say anything about them when he had already mentioned the feet. Just then they came to the fountain, and with a sudden movement the demon threw back his hood and showed his dreadful face, and before the child could scream, he was seized by those hairy hands and thrown into the water. But just at that moment the gardener was returning to his work, and saw from a distance what had happened. He ran as fast as he could, but he only got to the fountain in time to see the demon vanish, while the child's body was floating on the water. Very quickly he drew him out, and carried him, all dripping wet, up to the castle, where they tried to bring him back to life. But alas! It all seemed of no use. He neither moved nor breathed, and the day that had begun with such rejoicing ended in the bitterest woe. The four parents were heartbroken, but they did not quite lose hope, and prayed earnestly to St. Nicholas, who had given them the child, that he would restore their boy to them. As they prayed by the side of the little bed where the body of the child lay, they thought something moved, and to restore their joy and surprise the boy opened his eyes and sat up, and in a short time was as well as ever. They asked him eagerly what had happened, and he told them all about the pilgrim with the queer feet and hands, who had gone with him to the fountain, and had then thrown back his hood and shone his terrible face. After that he could remember nothing, until he found himself in a beautiful garden, where the loveliest flowers grew. There were lilies like white stars, and roses far more beautiful than any he had ever seen in his own garden, and the leaves of the trees shone like silver and gold. It was all so beautiful that for a while he forgot about his home, and when he did remember and tried to find his way back, he grew bewildered and did not know in what direction to turn. As he was looking about, an old man came down the garden path, and smiled so kindly upon him that he trusted him at once. This old man was dressed in the robes of the bishop, and had a long white beard and the sweetest old face the child had ever seen. "'Art thou searching for the way home?' the old man asked. "'Does thou wish to leave this beautiful garden and go back to thy father and mother?' "'I want to go home,' said the child, with a sob in his voice. "'But I cannot find the way, and I am all so tired of searching for it.'  Then the parents knew that St. Nicholas had heard their prayers, and had gone to fetch the child from the heavenly garden, and brought him back to them. And they were more grateful to the good saint than ever, and they loved and honored him even more than they had done before, which was all the reward the demon got for his wicked doings. That is one of the many stories told after the death of St. Nicholas, and had ever helped and comforted his people to think that, though they could no longer see him, he would love and protect them still. Young maidens in need of help remembered the story of the golden bars, and felt sure the good saint would not let them want. Sailors tossing on the stormy waves thought of that storm which had sunk to rest at the prayer of St. Nicholas.  For when the happy Christmas time draws near, who is so much in their thoughts as St. Nicholas or Santa Claus as they call him? Perhaps they are a little inclined to think of him as some good magician who comes to fill their stockings with gifts, but they should never forget that he was the kind bishop who in olden days loved to make the little ones happy. There are some who think that even now he watches over and protects little children, and for that reason he is called their patron saint. CHAPTER X Among the many martyrs who long ago gave up their lives rather than deny their master, we love to remember one little maid, a child martyr and saint. We do not know a great deal about her, for she lived so very long ago. But what we know makes us love and honor her, and speak her name with reverence. Faith was the name of this little maiden, and her home was in France, in the pleasant country of Aquitaine. Her parents were rich and noble, and she was brought up carefully, and taught to be courteous and gentle to every one. But she did not need much teaching, for her nature was sweet and pure, and her face was fair, with the beauty that shines from within. The town in which little faith lived was called Agin, and lay at the foot of a high rugged hill, which seemed to keep guard over it. It was a quiet little place, and most of the people who dwelt there were Christians, living happily together with the good bishop, at their head. But one day a heavy cloud of dust was seen rolling along the high road that led over the mountains to the city gates, and messengers came running breathlessly into the town, warning the people that a great company of soldiers was marching towards them. It was thought they had come from Spain, and the new spread like wildfire through the town that Dacian, the cruelest governor of all that country, was riding at their head. In fear and trembling the people waited.  And soon the great company came sweeping in, swords clattering, and armor glittering in the sunshine, rough soldiers laughing carelessly as they rode past the frightened faces, and at their head a cruel, evil-looking man who glared from side to side as if he were a wild beast seeking his prey. Doubtless it pleased him to see how everyone trembled before him, and he smiled scornfully to think how easy a task it would be to teach these Christians to deny their God and drag their faith in the dust. And soon the reason of his coming was known to all, for he ordered it to be proclaimed in the marketplace that every Christian who refused to sacrifice to the heathen gods should be tortured and put to death. And to make his meaning quite plain the soldiers spread out all the terrible instruments of torture so that men might know exactly what lay before them if they refused to deny Christ. But in the night the terrified Christians stole silently out of the town, and climbing the high hill that overlooked the city they hid themselves in the great caves among the rocks. Scarcely any one of them was left behind. Even the good bishop was afraid to stay and face the danger, and it seemed as if Christ would have no one to fight on his side against the evil company. But when morning came and the furious Stacey and discovered that everyone had fled, he sent his soldiers to search and bring any who might remain hidden in the city, that he might wreak his vengeance on them. And among the few that were left they brought to him the little-made faith. She was only a little child, but she did not know what fear meant. You cannot hurt me, she said, looking at the cruel angry faces around her, because I am not yours, but God's. And then she signed herself with the sign of the cross, and with bent head prayed, Lord Jesus, teach my lips to answer their questions right, so that I may do thee no dishonor. Then Desi and looked in anger at the child standing there with clasped hands and steadfast eyes, and asked her roughly, What is thy name? My name is Faith, the little-made replied with gentle courtesy. And what God does thou serve? asked the cruel governor. I am a Christian, and I serve the Lord Christ, replied the child. Deny him, and sacrifice to our gods, thundered the governor, else shout thou under every kind of torture, until there is no life left in thy young body. But Faith stood with head erect and hands clasped tight together. Not even the ugly instruments of torture could frighten her. I serve the Lord Christ, she said, and you cannot hurt me, because I am his. Such a little maid she was, standing there amongst those rough cruel men, offering her life gladly for the faith of her master. Such a few years she had spent in this bright world, and so many stretched in front, holding pleasures and promises in store. And now she must give up all, must put aside the little white robe and golden sandals, and take instead the robe of suffering, and go barefoot to meet the pain and torture that awaited her. And though they scourged her, and made her suffer many cruel torments, they could not bend her will nor break her faith. Indeed it seemed as if she did not feel the pain and anguish. Then God stooped down, and gathered the little faithful soul into his bosom, and when the people looked, the child was dead. But in the cave among the mountains that very day the bishop sat, sad, and troubled. He was gazing away across the plain to where the town lay half hidden in the mist, thinking of those faithful few who had chosen to stay behind. And suddenly the mist broke in front, and a vision stood out clear before him. He saw the child-faith being scourged and tortured. He saw the flames leaping around her. And then, as he looked again, low, her head was encircled with a golden crown set with precious stones, each jewel sparkling with light. And from heaven a white dove came gently flying down and rested on the child's head, while from its wings a soft dew fell that quenched the flames. The bishop bowed his head in his hands and wept. The thought of what this child had dared to endure for her master, while he had shrunk from suffering, ought for his sake, filled his heart with shame. He could not stay there in safety while any of his people might suffer as she had done. So that night he returned to the city to help and comfort the few remaining Christians. Before long he too was called upon to suffer death for his Lord, and many others gave themselves up, led by the example of little faith. Some say that even the rough soldiers were touched by the child's death, and many became Christians. They began to think that such a religion was worth living for, if it could teach even a child to die so bravely. And so, though she lived such a short time on earth, she did a very wonderful work for God. And we call her now St. Faith, thinking often of her as we read these words. A little child shall lead them. End of chapter 10. CHAPTER 11 of IN GOD'S GARDEN It is difficult sometimes to learn a great deal about the saints who lived a very long time ago. So few people knew how to read or write in those days, and the only way they had of remembering and handing on what was interesting was to tell it to their children. Then these little ones, when they were grown up, would repeat it again to other little children, and so the stories were not forgotten. But sometimes one thing would be left out, and sometimes another, or different people would add wonderful stories of their own, which would become part of the true story. And so, when at last these histories come to us, we find we have lost a great deal, and perhaps not gained very much. The two saints to whose story we are going to listen today are of this long ago time, and the history of their lives has almost faded from men's memories. But whoever happens to go to Florence, the city of Flowers, where the old Medici family has left its mark on every corner, will see the portraits of our two saints wherever they go. For the old painters love to tell the saints' stories in their own beautiful way, and today the little dark-eyed Italian children can read them without books, for they are told more plainly and far more beautifully than any written story. Cosmo and Damien were brothers, and were born in Arabia three hundred years after Christ.  She was a Christian, and taught her boys, as soon as they were old enough to understand, that though they had no earthly father, God was their father in heaven. She told them that the great king of heaven and earth called them his children, and he who could do a mean or cruel act, or stain his honor by an untruthful word, was not worthy to be called a king's son. And because they were noble, she taught them that they must do noble deeds, bravely defend and protect the weak, and help those who could not help themselves. So the boys grew up straight and strong in mind and body. Their bitterest punishment was to feel that they had done anything unworthy of their king, and although they often made mistakes and did wrong thoughtlessly, they never went far astray since God's honor was their own. Their mother was rich, for their father had had great possessions, but there were so many poor and suffering people around their home, that it was almost impossible to help them all. So the boys learned early to deny themselves in many ways, and often gave up their own dinner to the starving poor. In that land there was a great deal of sickness and suffering, and this was a great trouble to Cosmo and Damien. They could not bear to see people in pain and be unable to help them. They often thought about this, and at last determined to learn all about medicine and become doctors, so that they might at least soften suffering when they could not cure it. After years of patient study they learned to be very clever doctors, and their kind hearts and gentle hands soothed and comforted those who were in pain, even when skill could do nothing for them. They visited rich and poor alike, and would take no money for their services, for they said it was payment enough to know they had been able to make the world's suffering a little less.  If any animal was in pain they would treat it as gently and carefully as if it had been a human being. Indeed, they were perhaps even more pitiful towards animals, for they said.  It ever seemed strange to these great men that boys, who would scorn to ill-treat a younger child, or take mean advantage of a weak one, would still think nothing of staining their honor by ill-treating an animal infinitely weaker and smaller, and less able to protect itself. It was one of the few things that raised the wrath of these gentle doctor saints. Now it happened that a poor woman who had been ill for many years, heard of the fame of the two young doctors, and sent to implore them to come to help her. She believed that though her illness seemed incurable, these good men might heal her. Cosmo and Damien were touched by her faith, and they went at once, and did for her all that their skill could devise, and moreover prayed that God would bless their efforts. To the wonder of all, the woman began to grow better, and very soon was completely cured. In her great gratitude she offered all that she had in payment to the two doctors. That they told her that they could take nothing. Then she humbly offered them a little bag in which were three eggs, praying them not to go away from her quite empty-handed. But Cosmo turned and walked away, and would not so much as even look at what she offered, for it was a very strict rule with the brothers that they should accept no payment or reward of any kind. Then the woman caught at a fold of Damien's cloak as he also turned to go, and begged him, for the love of Christ, to take her little gift. When Damien heard the name of his master, he paused, and then took the present and courteously thanked the poor woman. But when Cosmo saw what Damien had done he was very wrathful, and that night he refused to sleep with him, and said that henceforth they would no longer be brothers. But in the stillness of the night God came to Cosmo and said, My son, wherefore art there so wrathful with thy brother? Because he has taken reward for our services, said Cosmo, and thou knowest, Lord, that we receive no payment but from thee. But was it not in my name that he took the offering? Ask the voice. Because that poor woman gave it for love of me, thy brother did well to accept it. Then Cosmo awoke in great joy, and hurried to the bedside of his brother, and there begged his forgiveness for having misjudged him so sorely. And so they were happy together once more, and ate the eggs right merrily. In those days there were many pilgrims passing through Arabia, and because the journey was hard and most of them were poor, they often fell ill and came under the care of Cosmo and Damien. One night a poor man was brought in, fainting and fever-stricken.  All night they sat by his bedside, doing every thing that their skill could plan to ease his pain, and they only smiled when the poor man said in his faint low voice, Why do you take all this trouble for a poor pilgrim who has nothing wherewith to repay you? We would not take thy payment if thou hattest all the riches in the world, answer the doctors, for we receive payment only from our king. Then when the first pale light of dawn began to still through the little window, and the doctors anxiously watched the still form lying there, they started with surprise, for the face seemed to change in an instant, and instead of the bed of suffering they saw a cloud of glory, out of the midst of which Christ's face, infinitely tender, looked upon them, and his hands touched their heads in blessing, as he said, All the riches of the world are indeed mine, though I seemed but a poor pilgrim. I was sick, and you visited me, and surely ye shall receive payment from your king. Then Cosmo and Damien knelt and worshiped, and thanked their lord that they had been counted worthy to minister to his need. But soon the fame of Cosmo and Damien began to spread abroad, and the wicked proconsul of Arabia heard about their good deeds. As soon as he knew they were Christians, and helped the poor in suffering, he was filled with rage, and sent and ordered that the two brothers should be cast alive into the sea. Immediately Cosmo and Damien were seized, and led up to the steep cliffs, and the guards bound them hand and foot. Not a complaint escaped their lips, not a sign of fear, as the soldiers raised them on high and flung them over into the cruel sea far below. But as the crowd above watched to see them sink, a great fear and amazement seized the soldiers. For from the calm blue sea they beheld the brothers rise slowly and walk towards the shore, led by an angel who guided them with loving care until they were safe on land. In a greater rage than ever the proconsul ordered that a great fire should be made, and that the brothers should be cast into the midst of it and burnt to death. But though the fire roared and blazed before Cosmo and Damien were cast in, as soon as it touched them it died down, and nothing could make it burn again. It seemed as if God's good gifts refused to injure His servants. After that they were bound to two crosses, and the soldiers were ordered to stone them. But the stones did no harm to those two patient figures, but instead fell backwards and injured the men who threw them. Then everyone cried out that they were enchanters, and it was ordered that to make sure of their death they should be beheaded. So the work of the two saint doctors was finished on earth. But for many years afterwards, those who were ill would pray to those saints for their protection. There is a legend which tells how a poor man in Rome had a leg which the doctors feared would cause his death. So he prayed to Saint Cosmo and Saint Damien, and asked them to help him in his need. And that night when he was asleep he saw the doctor saints standing at his bedside in their red robes and caps trimmed with fur. One held a knife and the other a pot of ointment. What shall we do to replace this leg when we have cut it off? asked Saint Damien.  He no longer needs his legs, so let us take one of them and put it on instead. So they cut off the bad leg and fetched the leg of the black man, and with the ointment joined it on to the living man. And when he awoke he believed he must have dreamt about the visit of the saints, but when he looked at his leg, behold, it was black and perfectly sound and well. Then they sent and searched for the black body, and on it they found a white leg, so the man knew that the doctor saints had heard his prayers and had come to cure him. That is one of the wonderful stories which have grown up around the names of Saint Cosmo and Saint Damien. While we cannot tell if these things really happened, this we do surely know to be true, that these two brothers, who lived in an age when men were cruel and selfish, spent their whole lives in trying to help those who suffered pain, and then went bravely to death in the service of their king. And though we know but little about them, they have left us an example of patient kindliness and helpfulness, and they teach us that as servants of their king we also are bound in honor to protect the weak and help those who suffer.  End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. IT WAS A COLD WINTER'S DAY IN THE CITY OF IMMIN. End God's Garden. By Amy Steedman. CHAPTER XII. Saint Martin. It was a cold winter's day in the city of Immins, and the wind swept along the Great Roman Road outside the city gates with such an icy blast that the few people who were out of doors wrapped themselves closer in their cloaks, and longed for their sheltering homes in warm firesides. But there was one poor man who had no cloak to wrap around him, and no fireside of which to dream. He shivered as the searching wind came sweeping past him, and his half-blind eyes looked eagerly up and down the road to see if anyone was coming who might help him in his need. One by one the people hurried past, and paid no heed to the beggars' outstretched hand. It was much too cold to stop or to think of giving help, and not even a beggar could expect it on such a day as this. So they left the poor man hungry and cold and homeless. Then a young soldier came riding past, but the beggar scarcely thought of asking alms of him, for the Roman soldiers were not the kind of men to trouble themselves about the poor in suffering. The old man closed his eyes, weary and hopeless, for it seemed as if there was none to help nor pity him. Then in a moment he felt a warm cloak thrown around his shoulders, and in his ears sounded a kind voice which made him rapid close round him to keep out of the cold. Half bewildered the beggar looked up and saw the young soldier bending over him. He had dismounted from his horse and held a sword in his hand, with which he had just cut his own cloak in half, that he might share it with the shivering old man. The passers-by laughed and hurried on, but the soldier did not care if they mocked him, for he was quite happy to think he had helped one who needed help so sorely. The name of this young soldier was Martin, and he served in the Roman army with his father, who was a famous general. Most of Martin's fellow soldiers were pagans, but he was a Christian and served the emperor well because he served Christ first. The very night after Martin had divided his cloak with the beggar he had a dream in which he saw his master, Christ, among the holy angels, wearing the half cloak which Martin had given away that afternoon. And as he looked he heard Christ's voice speaking to the angels and saying, No ye who hath clothed me with this cloak, my servant Martin, who is yet unbaptised, hath done this. Then Martin awoke, and he did not rest until Christ's seal of baptism was set upon his brow, and he felt that he had enlisted truly in God's service. Now Martin knew that to be God's servant meant doing everything day by day as well as it could be done, and serving his earthly master as faithfully and diligently as he tried to serve his heavenly commander. So it came to pass that for all the fourteen years he served in the emperor's army he was known as the best and bravest soldier, and one who had never failed to do his duty. But as he began to grow old he longed to serve God in other ways, and so he went to the emperor and asked for permission to leave the army. There was war going on just then, for Rome was ever fighting with the barbarians who came up against her, and the emperor was very angry when he heard Martin's request. You seek to leave the army because you fear to fight, he said scornfully to Martin, who stood silently before him.  I am no coward, answered Martin, and he met with unflinching look the angry gaze of the emperor. Place me alone in the front of the battle, with no weapon but the cross alone, and I shall not fear to meet the enemy single-handed and unarmed. Well said, answered the emperor quickly, we will take thee at thy word, to-morrow thou shalt stand defenseless before the enemy, and so shall we judge if thy boasted courage. Then the emperor ordered his guards to watch Martin that night lest he should try to escape before the trial could be made. But Martin had no thought of escape, and was ready and eager to do as he had said. Meanwhile, however, the enemy began to fear that they had no chance against the Roman army, and very early in the morning they sent messengers to ask for peace, offering to give themselves up to the mercy of the emperor. So Martin was set at liberty, and no one doubted his courage and faithfulness, since they believed that his faith in God had brought peace and given them the victory over their enemies. Soon after this Martin was allowed to leave the army, and he journeyed from place to place telling those who had never heard it before the good news of Jesus Christ. In those days it was dangerous to go among the mountains unarmed, for robbers and brigands made their home there, and would swoop down on unsuspecting travelers and rob or murder them. But Martin took no companions with him, and with no weapon but the cross he climbed the mountain roads defenceless and alone. One day, as he journeyed, a company of brigands appeared suddenly, as if they had started out of the rocks. They seized him roughly, and one of them aimed to blow at his head with an axe, but before the blow could fall another robber turned the axe aside and claimed Martin as his prisoner. Then they tied his hands behind him and bound him fast, while they made up their minds which would be the best way to kill him. But Martin sat calm and untroubled, and seemed to have no fear of these terrible men. "'What is thy name and who art thou?' asked the brigand who claimed Martin as his prisoner. "'I am a Christian,' answered Martin simply. "'And art thou not afraid of the tortures which await thee, that thou dost seem so calm and fearless?' asked the robber, wondering at the peaceful look upon the prisoner's face. "'I fear nothing that thou canst do to me,' answered Martin, "'for I am a servant of the Great King, and he will defend his own. But I do indeed grieve for thee, because thou livest by robbery and violence, and art therefore unworthy of the mercy of my Lord.' The astonished robber asked him what he meant, and who this Great King was whom he served. So Martin told him the whole story of God's love, and of the coming of our Lord and Saviour Jesus . No word so wonderful had ever been spoken to this brigand before, and as he listened he believed that what Martin said was true. The first thing he did was to cut the rope which bound the prisoner's hands and to set him free, and after that he led him in safety through the mountain passes until he reached a road that led to the plains below. Here they parted, and the brigand knelt and asked Martin to pray for him that he might be on the lonely road, and one more Christian fighting the battles of the Lord. Although Martin loved to dwell in lonely places, he was always ready to go where he was most needed, and so a great part of his life was spent in busy towns. When he was made Bishop of Tours, and could no longer live in the solitude he loved, still he strove to be the best Bishop it was possible to become, just as when he was a soldier . Now Martin was growing an old man, yet he was very little change since that day long ago when he divided his cloak with the poor beggar outside the gate of Amines. It is said that one day, when he was serving at the altar in all his beautiful bishops robes, he saw a ragged beggar standing near, shivering with cold. At first he bade his deacon give him clothing, but the deacon was too slow to please the kind heart of the bishop, and so he sold embroidered vestment and put it tenderly round the shoulders of the beggar. Then as the servant went on, and the bishop held up the holy chalice, the kneeling crowd saw with wonder that angels were hovering round and were hanging chains of gold upon the upraised arms to cover them, because the robe Martin had given to the beggar had left them bare. Now the evil one looked with great mistrust and disfavor gentleness than the evil one cared to lose. All the preaching and sternness of other good men were not half so dangerous to the plans of the evil one as the pity and kindness of Martin. So one day the evil one met Martin and began to mock him. Thy faith is beautiful indeed, he said scornfully, but how long do thy sinners remain saints? They have but to pretend a little sorrow for them. O poor, miserable spirit that thou art, answered Martin, dost thou not know that our savior refuses none who turned to him? Even thou, if thou wouldst but repent, might find mercy with my lord. The evil one did not stop to answer the bishop, but disappeared with great swiftness. Later on he returned, as we shall see. The fame of Martin's life spread far and near, and the rich as well as the poor did it. The emperor and empress invited him over and over again to come to their court, but Martin steadily refused, for he loved best to work among the poor. A time came, however, when he saw that he might do great good if he could persuade the emperor to cease from persecuting the Christians, and so at last he agreed to attend a banquet at the palace and to be the emperor's guest. Everything was as gorgeous and he wished to do honor to the bishop, who was the one man who dared to speak truly to him and not to flatter him with mere words. But Martin scarcely seemed to notice all the grandeur and brilliance of the entertainment, and when at the banquet the emperor took the wine cup and passed it to his guest, expecting him to bless it and respectfully hand it back, Martin turned quietly round instead, and passed the jeweled cup to a poor priest who stood behind. This showed the astonished emperor that in his eyes the poorest of God's servants was to be considered before the greatest ruler upon the earth. It was not long after this that the evil one again visited Martin, but this time he disguised himself that he might not be known. It was evening and Martin was praying in his cell when a bright light filled the place, and in the midst of the light he saw a figure clad in royal robes and with a crown of gold and jewels upon his head. His face was shining and beautiful, so that no one could have guessed he was the evil one. Martin could only gaze upon him and dazzled silence, for his shining beauty was beyond all words. Then the evil one spoke, and the sound of his voice was like music. Martin, he said, dost thou not see that I am Christ? I have come again upon earth, and it is so to thee that I have first showed myself. I met him and answered nothing. Martin, said the evil one again, why dost thou not believe? Can't thou not see that I am Christ? Then Martin answered slowly. It seemed strange to me that my lord should come in glittering clothing and a golden crown. Unless thou can't show the marks of the nails and spear, I cannot believe that thou art tea. At these words, with a horrible thunder clap, the evil one came to him no more. Years passed and Martin lived a long and useful life, that he was growing weary now, and when God's call came, he gladly prepared to enter into his rest and to leave the world where he had labored so long and faithfully. The night that Martin died he was seen in a vision by one of his friends who loved him more than all the rest.  And so Martin finished his earthly work and went to hear from his master lips the gracious words, well done, good, and faithful servant. CHAPTER XIII OF IN GOD'S GARDEN This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. In God's Garden by Amy Steedman. CHAPTER XIII ST. George Every nation has its own patron saint whom the people love to honor and who is looked upon not only as their protector in war and peace, but as a model of all that is best and highest and most worthy to be copied by others. Ever since the days of the Crusades, when our lion-hearted King Richard went to fight the infidels in the Holy Land, the special saint whom England has delighted to honor has been St. George. For St. George and Mary England rang out the old battle cry, and the greatest honor which our kings can be stow, the Order of the Garter, is really the Order of the Garter. And when you have heard the story of St. George, you will not wonder that England took him for her special saint and as an example for all her sons to follow. St. George was born far away in Cappadocia in the year 303 A.D. His father and mother were nobles of that country and were also Christians, although they lived under the rule of salvation. St. George's father, who was a soldier, was often away in the service of the emperor, so it was the mother who had most to do with the care and training of their only son. It must have been then, from her, that the boy learned the gentle reverence towards all women which made him their protector and champion all his life. When he was seventeen he too and the shining sword which he then buckled on was kept all his life as stainless as his honor. He never drew it in a wrong cause, but held it as a trust given to him to defend the right and protect the weak and helpless. Now in the same country there was a city called Selim whose people had once been as happy and prosperous as any in the land, but which was now the most miserable spot The city itself was beautiful with splendid palaces and gay gardens, and the king who ruled there was wise and good. But outside the city wall stretched a gray, sullen licking lake, half marsh and half stagnant water, and in this gloomy bog there lived a dreadful monster called a dragon. No one knew exactly what he was like, for those who were so unfortunate as to have been near enough to see the world by his fiery breath which came rolling out from his great yawning throat. He did not seem to walk nor to fly, although he had what looked like wings and huge flat feet, but always moved along with a crawling motion most horribly swift. Nothing was safe from this terrible monster. One by one the sheep and oxen belonging to the city were devoured by him, and no more food to give him he crawled towards the city, and his dreadful, fiery breath warned them that he was coming closer, and that they would soon be carried off one by one and devoured. In their despair and terror the king and all the people agreed to cast lots each day, and it was settled that the one on whom the lot fell should be put outside the gates to feed the monster so this was done for many days, and the grief and suffering in that city was terrible to behold. But the darkest day of all was when the lot fell upon Clea de Linda, the king's only daughter. She was very beautiful, and the king loved her more than all else beside. So in his anguish he called his people together, and in a trembling voice his grey head bowed with grief he spoke to them. As my only child I cannot give her up, take rather all my gold and jewels, even the half of my kingdom, only spare my daughter the one treasure of my heart. But the people were very angry and would not listen to the king for they too had lost their children, and it made them savage and cruel. We will not spare the princess, they growled in low-threatening tones. We have given up our children, and why shouldst thou withhold thine? Didst thou not agree with us to cast the lots? Why shouldst thou make one law for us and another for thyself? And they threatened to burn down the palace, and kill both the king and Cleo de Linda if she was not given up to them at once. Then the king saw there was no hope of deliverance, and he promised that in eight days the princess should be eight sad days at the palace, for all was dark and hopeless there, and the only person who did not give way to despair was the princess Cleo de Linda herself. She spent her time trying to comfort her father, and told him she had no fear, but rather that she was glad to think she was to die to save his people. So the fatal day arrived when the monster was to be fed, and the princess came out to meet her mom, dressed in her royal robes, as befitted a king's daughter. And when she bade farewell to her father, she went forth alone, and the gates of the city were shut behind her. Now it happened that at the very time that Cleo de Linda went out to meet the dragon, and just as she heard the city gates clank heavily behind her, St. George came riding past on his way to join his soldiers. His shining armor and great spear made things in that gloomy place. But the princess did not see him, for her eyes were blinded with tears, and even when he galloped up close to her she did not hear him, for the ground was soft and marshy, and his horse's hooves made scarcely a sound as he rode past. Slowly the princess walked along the desolate way towards the sullen gray lake where the monster was waiting for his meal. The path was strewn with bones, and she grew for miles around, for the fiery blast of the dragon's breath withered everything it passed over. Cleo de Linda never dreamed that help was near, and started in amazement when she heard a kind voice speaking to her, and looking up saw through her tears a young knight on horseback gazing at her with pitying eyes. She thought that he had the handsomest, kindest face she had ever seen, and most courteous manner, as he leaned towards her, and asked her why she wept, and wherefore she was wondering alone in this dismal place. Cleo de Linda told him in a few words the whole sad story, and pointed with trembling hand towards the distant marsh, where already a dark form might be seen crawling slowly out of the gray water. See, there he comes, she cried in sudden terror, ride fast, kind knight, and escape while there is time, for if the monster finds thee here he will kill thee. And dost thou think I would ride off in safety and leave thee to perish? asked St. George. Thou canst do nothing, answered the princess, ringing her hands, for naught can prevail against this terrible dragon. Thou wilt but perish needlessly in trying to save me, so I pray thee, fly while there is time. I bid that I should act in so cowardly a manner, answered St. George. I will fight this hideous creature, and by God's help in the strength of my good sword I will conquer him and deliver thee.  With a swift prayer for help St. George made the sign of the cross, and grasping his great spear firmly spurred his horse and rode straight at the monster. The combat was a long and terrible one, and the princess, as she watched from behind a sheltering tree trembled for the safety of the brave knight, and gave up all for lost. But at last St. George made a swift forward rush, and drove his spear right down the throat of the monster, and out at the back of his head, pinning him securely to the ground. Then he called to the princess to give him her girdle, and this he tied to each end of the spear, so that it seemed like a great bridle, and with it Cleo de Linda led the vanquished dragon back towards the city. Inside the city gates all the people had been weeping and wailing over the fate of the princess, which they feared might any day be their own, and they dared not look out or open the gates until the monster had had time to carry off his victim. So their terror and dismay was great indeed when the news spread like wildfire that someone had seen the great monster come crawling towards the town, instead of returning to his home in the dismal swamp. They all crowded, trembling with fear around the watch-tower upon the walls, to see if the dragon was really on his way to attack the city, and when they saw the great dark mass moving slowly towards them they thought that the end was come, for they could not see St. George nor the princess, and did not know that she was leading the dragon, a vanquished prisoner. So it was all in vain for a long time that St. George thundered at the city gates and demanded that they should be opened. Even when the people saw that the princess was safe and that a night the monster lay quiet at their feet as if half dead, they still hesitated to open the gates. So great was their terror and astonishment. But when they were quite sure that the dragon was bound and could do them no harm, they threw open the gates and everyone crowded to see the wonderful sight, still half doubting if it could be true, and looking with fear upon the great beast which the princess led by her girdle fastened to the St. George. Then the king came in haste from his palace to meet his daughter and never was a morning of sorrow turned into such a day of joy. St. George and the Princess Clea de Linda led the dragon into the marketplace followed by the wandering crowd and there St. George drew his sword and cut off the head of the hideous monster. Then were the people sure that they were indeed delivered from forever and they burst forth into wild rejoicings. They would have given all they possessed to St. George in their joy and gratitude, but he told them that the only reward he desired was that they should believe in the true God and be baptized Christians. It was not difficult to believe in the God who had helped St. George to do this great deed and very soon the king and the princess and all the people were baptized and each desired. Then the king presented the brave knight with great treasures of gold and jewels, but all these St. George gave to the poor and went his way, keeping not for himself but his own good sword and spear, ready to defend the right and protect the weak as he had served the princess in her need. But when he returned to his own city he found that the emperor had written a proclamation against the Christians and it was all the marketplaces and upon the doors of the temples, and all who were Christians were hiding in terror and dared not show themselves openly. Then St. George was filled with righteous anger and tore down the proclamations in all the public places and trampled them underfoot. He was seized immediately by the guards and carried before the proconsul who ordered him to be tortured and then put to death. But nothing could shake the courage of his brave knight, and through all the tortures he bore himself as a gallant Christian should and met his death with such bravery and calm joy that even his enemies were amazed at his courage. And so through the many dark ages that followed, when the weak were oppressed and women needed a knight's strong arm to protect them, men remembered St. George, and the very thought of him nerved their arms and made their courage firm, and boys learned from him that it was a nightly thing to protect the weak and to guard all maidens from harm and that a pure heart, a firm trust in good and true courage could meet and overcome any monster, however terrible and strong. And of all nations it befits us most that our men and boys should be brave and courteous, for St. George is our own patron saint, the model of all that an English knight should be. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of In God's Garden This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org In God's Garden by Amy Steedman Chapter 14 St. Francis of Assisi In the sunny land of Italy, high upon hills covered with olive trees nestles the little town of Assisi such a strange little town it is with its tall city walls and great gateways, its narrow, steep streets and houses with wide overhanging eaves. The road that leads up from the plain below is so steep as it winds upwards among the silver olive trees that even the big white oxen find it a toil to drag the carts up to the city gates. And the people think it quite a journey to go down to the level land below. Now it was in this same little hill-town many years ago that St. Francis was born. They did not know that he was going to be a great saint, this little dark-eyed Italian baby who came to gladden his mother's heart one autumn day in the long ago year of 1182 when his father, Pietro Bernardo, was away in France. He seemed just like any other baby and only his mother, perhaps, thought him the most wonderful baby that ever was born. But mothers always think that even if their babies do not grow up to be real saints. She called him Giovanni at first but when his father came home he named the little son Francesco which means the little Frenchman because he was so pleased with all the money he had made in France. So the child from that day was always called Francesco which is his real Italian name although we in England call him Frances. Soon he grew into a happy, daring boy the leader in all the games and every kind of fun. He was the pride of his father and mother and the favorite of the whole town for although he was never out of mischief he never did a cruel or unkind thing and was ever ready to give away all he had to those who needed help. And when he grew older he was still the gayest of all the young men of Assisi and wore the costliest and most beautiful clothes for his father had a great deal of money and grudged him nothing.  But although he grew slowly better he was never quite the same Francis who did not care about his gay companions or the old happy life there was real work to be done in the world he was sure perhaps some special work was waiting for his hand and with wistful eyes he was ever looking for a sign that would show him what that work was to be. Walking one day along the winding road dreaming dreams as he gazed far across the misty plains catching glimpses of far away blue mountains through the silver screen and olive trees he was stopped by a poor old beggar who asked him for the love of God to help him. Frances started from his daydreams and recognized the man as an old soldier who had fought for his country with courage and honor. Without stopping to think for a moment Francis took off his gay cloak and tenderly wrapped it round the shoulders of the shivering old man. He never thought that any reward would be given him for his kind action but that very night Christ came to him in a glorious vision and leading him by the hand showed him a great palace full of shining weapons and flags of victory each one marked with the sign of the cross. Then as Francis stood gazing at these wonderful things he heard the voice of Christ telling him that these were the rewards laid up for those who should be Christ faithful soldiers who were fully under his banner. With a great joy in his heart Francis awoke and hurriedly left home to join the army thinking only of earthly service and longing to win the heavenly reward. But in the quiet night he heard again the voice of Christ telling him that the service he was seeking was not what Christ required of his soldiers. Troubled and sad Francis went back to Assisi and when he was once more inside the city walls turned aside to pray in the little ruined church of Saint Domino and as he prayed once more he heard the voice speaking to him and saying Francis repair my church. Now Francis thought this meant that he was to build up the ruined walls of the little church in which he prayed. He did not understand that the command was that he should teach the people who make up Christ's church on earth to be pure and good Francis was only too glad to find that here at last was some real work to be done and never stopping to think if he was doing right he went joyfully home and took some of the richest stuffs which his father had for sale. These he carried off to the market and sold them for quite a large sum of money. Then returning to the little church he gave the money to the old priest telling him to rebuild the walls and to make the whole place beautiful. But the priest refused to accept the money for he was afraid that Francis had done wrong in taking the stuffs and that his father would be angry. This was a great disappointment to Francis and made him think that perhaps he had been too hasty. He was afraid to go home and tell what he had done so he hid himself for some days but at last tired and hungry with his gay clothes stained with dust he slowly went back to his father's house. And very angry indeed was Pietro Bernardo when he found out what his son had done. He did not mind giving Francis money for fine clothes or pleasures of any kind and he had allowed him to be as extravagant as he liked but to want money to build up an old church or to spend it in doing good that was not to be thought of for a moment. Out he came in a furious rage and drove Francis indoors and there shut him up in a dark cellar bound hand and foot so that he could not escape. But though his father was so angry his mother could not bear to see her son suffer whether he deserved it or not so she stole down when no one was there and unlike the cellar door she spoke gently to poor Francis and listened to all his story then she took off his chains and set him free telling him to go quickly before anyone should see him. Francis had no place to shelter in but the little ruined church and no friend who would receive him but the poor old priest so back he went to Saint Damiano leaving parents and home and all comforts behind him. His father of course was terribly angry when he found that Francis had escaped and he went at once to complain to the bishop and demand that Francis should be punished and made to give back the money he had taken. The bishop spoke kindly to Francis who promised gladly to give back the money which had brought him so much trouble and there in the marketplace with all the people licking on he took off his costly clothes now all stained and worn and standing pale and thin wearing only a hair-shirt he gave clothes and money back to his angry father saying, Listen all of you Until this time I have called Pietro Bernardadone father but from this moment I will say no more my father Pietro Bernardadone but only my father which art in heaven. Then the good bishop came quickly up and wrapped his mantle round the poor shivering lad and gave him his blessing bidding him henceforth a servant of God. A poor laborer gave Francis his rough brown tunic and the people were moved with pity and would have helped him for they thought he had been treated very harshly. But Francis wandered away alone into the world seeking to do all the things he had most disliked doing even at one time nursing the poor lepers and begging his bread from door to door. Soon however he made his way back to Assisi and to the little ruined church and began building up the walls with his own hands carrying the stones on his shoulders happy and contented to be doing work for God and the more he thought of his past life and the wasteful splendor in which he had lived the more he came to see that to be poor for Christ's sake was best of all. If Christ chose to become poor for our sakes, thought he surely it is but right he chose to become poor for his dear sake. It seemed to Francis that no one had really loved poverty since the days when our blessed Lord had lived amongst the poorest on earth and he began to think of poverty as a beautiful lady who had been despised and ill-treated all these long years and no one to take her part or to see any charm in her fair face.  Even his coarse, brown habit had been given to him in charity and instead of a belt he tied round his waist a piece of rope which he found by the wayside. He wore no shoes nor stockings but went barefoot and had no covering for his head and being so truly poor was the greatest joy to him. He thought the lady poverty was a fairer bride than any on earth though her clothes were ragged and her pathway lined with thorns. For along that thorny path she led him closer to his master and taught him to tread more nearly in his footsteps than most of his servants had ever tried. One day when Francis was reading the Gospel Christ's call seemed to sound in his ears just as it did to St. Matthew of Old. He had often read the words before but that day they had a new message for him. As you go preach saying the kingdom of heaven is at hand provide neither gold nor silver nor brass in your purses neither two coats neither shoes nor yet staves. Then he knew that Christ did not want him only to be good but to teach others how to be good and to look after Christ poor and sick always remaining poor and lowly himself. And as soon as he heard the call he rose up, left all and followed his master to his life's end. Very soon other men joined Francis eager to serve Christ as he did. They all dressed just as Francis dressed and became quite as poor as he was. Their home was in the plain below Assisi by the little chapel of St. Mary of the Angels given to the brothers. But it was not often that they were there altogether for Francis sent them out to preach to all the world just as the gospel commanded. In spite of their poverty the little poor brothers as they were called were a happy, cheerful little company. Francis had just the same gay nature and ready smile as when he was a boy in Assisi and though he might have to go long solitary journeys on foot or sleeping in caves or in woods hungry and foot sore he was never sad nor lonely. He seemed to love everything that God had made and all the animals and birds were his special friends. They were never frightened of him and when he walked in the woods the birds would come and perch on his shoulder and sing their good morning to him. And sometimes Francis would stand still and let them all come telling them how they ought to praise God for his goodness. Little sisters he always called them and it is said they would listen quietly while he spoke and then when he gave them his blessing they would rise up to heaven singing their hymn of praise just as if they had really understood their little service. Once when Francis and some of the brothers were returning home and when Francis saw them he said to his companions Our sisters, the birds are praising their maker let us go into their midst and sing our service too. The birds were not in the least disturbed but continued their chirping and twittering so that the brothers could not hear their own voices. Then Francis turned to the birds and said Little sisters, cease your song until we have given God our praise and they at once were quiet and did not begin to sing again until the service was over and it was not only the birds that loved him but every kind of creature came to him for comfort and shelter. Now this is a story which was told about Francis after he was dead when people tried to remember all the wonderful things that he had done and perhaps made them a little more wonderful out of love Living in the city of Agolio a terrible fierce wolf began to prowl about the town. He carried off everything edible he could find and grew so bold that he even seized the children and made off to his mountain den with them. The whole town was terrified and people scarcely dared to go out of doors for fear of meeting the terrible wolf and though the men hunted him he always escaped and came prowling down at nightfall again. When St. Francis heard this he said I will go out and meet this wolf and ask him what he means. He will kill you cried all the people and they tried to persuade him not to go. But St. Francis set out taking some of the brothers with him. They went bravely along for a short way and then the brothers turned back afraid and ran home leaving St. Francis alone and presently he heard a deep growling sound of a terrible rush and the great wolf with blazing eyes and open mouth came bounding towards him. But as he came nearer St. Francis went forward to meet him and making the sign of the cross he said come hither brother wolf I command thee in the name of Christ that thou do no more harm to me nor to anyone. And then a wonderful thing happened for as soon as the wolf heard the saint's voice stopped and then came gently forward and lay like a lamb at St. Francis's feet. Then St. Francis talked quietly to him and told him he deserved to be punished for all the evil he had done but if he would promise to kill and plunder no more the people of Agoglio would promise on their side to give him food every day. And the wolf rubbed his head against St. Francis's habit and gently laid his paw in the saint's hand. And always after that the good people of Agoglio used to put out food for the wolf and he grew so good and tame that he went quietly from door to door and never did harm to anyone again. Whether all this really happened we do not know but one thing we are certain of and that is that Francis loved all living creatures and they seem to know it and to love him too. It was not long before the little band of brothers grew into quite a large company and Francis went to Rome to ask the pope the head of the church to give them his blessing and his permission to live together under their rule of poverty. All the world was astonished at this strange man in his coarse-brown robe who preached to them that riches were not worth having and that the greatest happiness was to be good and pure. At first the pope would have nothing to give him but one night he had a dream and in his dream he saw a church leaning on one side and almost falling and the only thing that kept it from falling quite over was a poor man barefooted and dressed in a coarse-brown robe who had his shoulder against it and was holding it up. Then the pope knew that God had sent the dream to him and that Francis was going to be a great helper in the church so next day he called for Francis and granted him all that he asked and took the little poor brothers under his protection. Soon the company grew larger and larger and Francis sent them all over the country preaching and teaching men that they should deny themselves and love poverty rather than riches. Still they always kept the little home at St. Mary of the Angels and the brothers returned there after their preaching was ended. The convent was built close to a wood and this wood was the place Francis loved past for he could be quite alone there to pray and meditate with no one to disturb his thoughts and often when all the other brothers were asleep he would still quietly out and ill for hours under the silent trees alone with God. Now there was a little boy at the convent who loved Francis very much and wanted to know all that he did that he might learn to grow him. Especially he wondered why Francis went alone into the dark wood but he was too sleepy to keep awake to see. It was a very poor convent and all the brothers slept on mats on the floor for they had not separate sales. At last one night the boy crept close to the side of Francis and spread his mat quite close to his masters and in case he should not wake he tied his little chest then he lay down happily and went to sleep. By and by when everyone was asleep Francis got up as usual to pray but he noticed the cord and gently untied it so that the boy slept on undisturbed.  It was very dark and he had to fill his way among the trees but presently a bright light shone out and as he stole nearer he saw a wonderful sight. His master was kneeling there and with him was the blessed virgin holding our dear Lord in her arms and many saints were there as well and overall was a great cloud of the holy angels. The vision and the glorious brightness almost blinded the child and he fell down as if he were dead. Now when Francis was returning home he stumbled over the little boy lying there and guessing what had happened he stooped down and tenderly lifted him up and carried him in his arms as the good shepherd carries his lambs. Then the child felt his master's arms round him and was comforted and told him of the vision and how it had frightened him. In return Francis told no one what he had seen as long as his master was alive. So the old story tells us that the child grew up to be a good man and was one of the holiest of the little poor brothers because he always tried to grow like his master. Only after Francis died did he tell the story of the glorious vision which he had seen that night in the dark wood at the time when no one knew what a great saint his master was. As time went on Francis grew anxious to do more than preach at home for Christ's message to him had been, go ye into all the world. He had set out many times, but always something had prevented him from getting far. Until at last he succeeded in reaching the land of the Saracens where the crusaders were fighting. His great hope was that he might see the sultan and teach him about Christ so that all his success. He had no fear at all and when everyone warned him that he would certainly be put to death he said that would be a small matter if only he could teach the heathen about God. But although the sultan received Francis and listened to all he had to say he only shook his head and refused to believe without a sign. Then Francis grew more and more eager to convince him and asked that a great fire should be made and that he and the priest should pass through it saying that whosoever came out unharmed should be held to be the servant of the true God. But the heathen priest all refused to do this and so poor Francis had to return home having he feared done no good that hoping the good might follow afterwards. These weary journeys and all the toil and hardship of his daily life began to make Francis weak and ill. Many things troubled him too for the brothers did not love poverty as he did and they began to make new rules and to forget what he had taught them. But in the midst of all trouble he remained the saint, humble servant of Christ always thinking of new ways to serve his master. There was no time Francis loved so much as Christmas he loved to feel that all living things were happy on that day. He used to say that he wished that all the governors and lords of the town and country might be obliged to scatter corn over the roads and fields so that our sisters the larks and all the birds might feast as well and because the ox and the ass shared the stable with the holy child he thought they should be provided with more than ordinary food on Christmas Eve.  In the manger he placed the figure of a baby to represent the infant Christ and there in the early hours of the Christmas morning he chanted the gospel at the first Christmas mass. It was in the spring of the year that Francis first went to the hermitage among the mountains which he loved better than any other it was a small hut high among the Apennines, among crags and rocks far away from any other place. Here he could wonder about the woods which were carpeted with spring flowers and hear his little sisters the birds singing all day long and here one day as he no thinking of all his dear lord had suffered a wonderful thing happened the thought of all that trouble and pain seemed more than he could bear and he prayed that he would be allowed to suffer as his master had done and as he prayed seeing only before him the crucified Christ with nail pierced hands and wounded side God sent the answer to his prayer and in his hands and feet deep marks appeared as though there had been nails driven through them and in his side a wound as if from the cruel thrust of a spear and so Francis learned to suffer had suffered and through all the pain he only gave God thanks that he had been thought worthy to bear the marks that Jesus bore. Francis did not live very long after this for he grew weaker and weaker and they carried him back to the old house at St. Mary of the Angels there the little poor brothers gathered round to him and he spoke his last words to them bidding them to live always as he had taught them to live with loneliness and when evening came and the birds he loved so much were singing their vests for hymns his voice joined in their praise until his soul passed away to the Lord whom he had tried to serve so humbly and in whose footsteps he had sought to place his own. End of Chapter 14 End of End God's Garden by Amy Steedman