through the little window, the father came quickly out, and before
Nicholas had time to hide, caught him by his cloak.
'O Nicholas,' he cried, 'is it thou who hast 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 past.
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 hailed 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
harvests 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 that 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 thy corn
for my starving people, and I promise thee that there shall be nought
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 inn-door 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 place 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.
[Illustration: HE WENT TO THE HARBOUR WHERE TWO SHIPS LAY.]
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 Saint Nicholas
was loved and honoured even after his death, and how every one believed
in his power to help them.
Here is one of the stories which all children who love Saint 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 Saint
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 honour of Saint
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 honour 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 Saint 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-looking 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 and footsore 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 to-day.'
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:
'O 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 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 to-day?' asked the demon quickly.
'He is not here to-day,' 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 gates 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, but 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 feet you have,' said the child as they walked
along; 'they look as if they belonged 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 poor parents were heart-broken, but they
did not quite lose hope and prayed earnestly to Saint Nicholas who had
given them the child, that he would restore their boy to them again.
As they prayed by the side of the little bed where the body of the child
lay, they thought something moved, and to 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 shown 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 a 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. 'Dost 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, oh, so tired of searching for it!'
Then the old man stooped down and lifted him in his arms, and the child
laid his head on the old man's shoulder, and, weary with his wandering,
fell fast asleep and remembered nothing more till he woke up in his own
little bed.
Then the parents knew that Saint Nicholas had heard their prayers and
had gone to fetch the child from the Heavenly Garden and brought him
back to them.
So they were more grateful to the good saint than ever, and they loved
and honoured 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 Saint Nicholas,
and it 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 Saint Nicholas. Poor prisoners with no one to take their
part were comforted by the thought of those other prisoners whom he had
saved. And little children perhaps have remembered him most of all,
for when the happy Christmas time draws near, who is so much in their
thoughts as Saint 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.
SAINT FAITH
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 honour 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 Agen, 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 highroad
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 news spread like wildfire through the town that
Dacian, the cruellest governor of all that country, was riding at their
head.
In fear and trembling the people waited. They stood in little knots,
talking under their breath of all the evil this man had done; or
shutting themselves into their houses, they scarcely dared to look out
at the windows. And soon the great company came sweeping in, swords
clattering and armour 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 every one 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 market-place, 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 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 Dacian discovered that every one
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 maid
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 aright, so that
I may do Thee no dishonour.'
Then Dacian 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 maid replied with gentle courtesy.
'And what God dost 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
shalt thou endure 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 among 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.
And 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, lo! 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.
And as the vision faded, 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 aught 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 Saint Faith, thinking often
of her as we read these words:
'A little child shall lead them.'
SAINT COSMO AND SAINT DAMIAN
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 old 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 to-day, 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, that 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 loved to tell the saint-stories in their own beautiful way,
and to-day the little dark-eyed Italian children can read them without
books, for they are told more plainly and far more beautifully than in
any written story.
Cosmo and Damian were brothers, and were born in Arabia three hundred
years after Christ. When they were quite little boys their father died,
and they were left alone with their mother. 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 honour
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 honour 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 Damian. 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 worlds suffering a little less.
And it was not only people they cared for, but God's dumb creatures too.
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:
'People who can speak and complain of their ills are greatly to be
pitied, but these dumb creatures, made by our King, can only suffer in
silence, and surely their suffering will be required at our hands.'
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 honour 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.
[Illustration: BUT COSMO TURNED AND WALKED AWAY.]