emned by my God always to walk."
And while he was speaking he was always walking up and down and had no
rest. Then he said: "Listen. I am going away; I leave you, in memory of
me, this, that you must say a _credo_ at the right hand of our Lord, and
five other _credos_ at his left, and a _salve regina_ to the Virgin, for
the grief I suffer on account of her son. I salute you." "Farewell."
"Farewell, my name is _Buttadeu_."[12]

* * * * *

We have only a few legends of the saints to mention. Undoubtedly a large
number are current among the people (Busk, pp. 196, 202, 203, 213-228,
gives a good many), but they do not differ materially from the literary
versions circulated by the Church. Those which we shall cite are purely
popular and belong to the great mediaeval legend-cycle.

The first is the legend of "Gregory on the Stone," which was so popular
in the mediaeval epics. There are several Italian versions, but we select
as the most complete the one in Gonzenbach, No. 85, called:

LX. THE STORY OF CRIVOLIU.

Once upon a time there was a brother and sister who had neither father
nor mother, and lived alone together. They loved each other so much that
they committed a sin which they should not have committed. When the time
came the sister gave birth to a boy, which the brother had secretly
baptized. Then he burnt into his shoulders a cross, with these words:
"Crivoliu, who is baptized; son of a brother and sister." After the
child was thus marked, he put it in a little box and threw it into the
sea.

Now it happened that a fisherman had just gone out to fish, and saw the
box floating on the waves. "A ship must have sunk somewhere," he
thought. "I will get the box, perhaps there is something useful in it."
So he rowed after it and got it. When he opened it and saw the little
child in it, he had pity on the innocent child, took it home to his
wife, and said: "My dear wife, our youngest child is already old enough
to wean; nurse in its place this poor innocent child." So his wife took
little Crivoliu and nursed him, and loved him as though he were her own
child. The boy grew and thrived and became every day larger and
stronger.

The fisherman's sons, however, were jealous because their parents loved
the little foundling as well as them, and when they played with Crivoliu
and quarrelled, they called him a "foundling." The boy's heart was
saddened by this and he went to his foster-parents