t he would not fast, since from his food came his
strength to serve with; nor pray, because it seemed to him idle; but
he went forth to help those who were in danger of being swept away,
as they struggled to cross the deep, wide River. He bore them
through upon his shoulders,--the weak, the little, the weary. At
last, he bore a little child who entreated him, and the child grew
heavy, and heavier, till, when they reached the other side, Offero
said,--'I feel as if I had borne the world upon my shoulders!' And
he was answered,--'Thou may'st say that; for thou hast borne Him who
made the world.' And then he knew that it was the Lord; and he was
called no more 'Offero,' but 'Cristofero.' My mother told me that
when I was a little child; and the story has grown in me. The Christ
has yet to be borne on men's shoulders."

Hilary Vireo stood and listened with gleaming eyes. Of course, he
knew the old saint-legend; of course, Christopher Kirkbright
supposed it; but these were men who understood without the saying,
that the verities are forever old and forever new. A mother's wise
and tender tale,--a child's life growing into a man's, and
sanctifying itself with a purpose,--these were the informing that
filled afresh every sentence of the story, and made its repetition a
most fair and sweet origination.

"And so,"--

"And so, I must earn my name," said Christopher Kirkbright, simply.

"Lift them up, and take them across," said Hilary Vireo, as if
thinking it over to himself. The old story had quickened him. A
grand perception came to him for his friend, who had begged him to
think for and advise him. "Lift them up and take them across!" he
repeated, looking into Mr. Kirkbright's face, and speaking the words
to him with warm energy. "They are waiting--so many of them! They
are sinking down--so many! They want to be lifted through. They
want--and they want terribly--a place of safety on the other side.
Go down into the river of temptation, and hardship, and sin, and
help them up out of it, Christopher. Take them up out of their cruel
conditions; make a place for some of them to begin over again in;
for some of them to rest in, once in a while, and take courage. Why
shouldn't there be cities of refuge, now, Kirkbright? Men are
mapping out towns for their own gain, all over the land, wherever a
water power or a railroad gives the chance for one to grow; why not
build a Hope for the hopeless? Nowhere on earth could that be done