used to become a heathen and to sacrifice to the gods. And so
they determined that he must die. They would have put him in the arena
with the wild beasts, but they knew that these faithful creatures would
not harm their friend. The beasts could not save him from the cruel men,
but at least they would not do anything to hurt him. Those which were
still left in the forest howled and moaned about his deserted cave, and
went sniffing and searching for him everywhere, like stray dogs who have
lost their master. It was a sad day for the wood-creatures when Saint
Blaise was taken from them forever.

The soldiers were told to drown Saint Blaise in the neighboring lake.
But he made the sign of the Cross as they cast him from the boat, and
the water bore him up, so that he walked upon it as if it were a floor,
just as Christ did once upon the sea of Galilee. When the soldiers tried
to do the same, however, thinking to follow and recapture him, they sank
and were drowned. At last of his own free will Saint Blaise walked back
to the shore, clothed in light and very beautiful to look upon; for he
was ready and eager to die. He let the heathen seize him, and soon after
this was beheaded.

In very old times it used to be the custom in England on the third of
February to light great bonfires on all the hills,--_blazes_ in honor of
his name.

And we can well believe that all the little animals came out of their
dens and burrows and nests at the sight of these fires, and thought with
loving hearts of the dear old Saint who so many years ago used to be
kind to their ancestors, the beasts in the forests of Armenia.

SAINT CUTHBERT'S PEACE

SAINT CUTHBERT was a Scotch shepherd boy who tended his flocks along the
river Tweed near Melrose. Night and day he lived in the open air,
drinking in the sunshine and sleeping on the heather. And he grew up big
and strong and handsome,--the finest lad in all that part of the
country. He could run faster than any one, and was always the champion
in the wrestling matches to which he challenged the village boys for
miles around. And you should have seen him turn somersaults and walk on
his hands! No one in all the world could beat him at that. Saint
Cuthbert lived more than a thousand years ago, and yet the people of
Scotland still tell tales of his strength and agility and grace in games
with the other boys. He was their leader and chief, and every one was
sure that he would grow up to be a f