orm-beaten
and weary, and three days later it departed. Have you not also heard
or read how our own St. Godrich at Whitby protected the four-footed
foresters, and how a great stag, which had been saved by him from the
hunters, came year after year at a certain season to visit him?"

Many legends too he told them of birds as well as beasts, and three of
these I will mention here because they are very pleasant to listen to.
One was of St. Malo and the wren. The wren, the smallest of all birds,
laid an egg in the hood which St. Malo had hung up on a branch while he
was working in the field, and the blessed man was so gentle and loving
that he would not disturb the bird, but left his hood hanging on the
tree till the wren's brood was hatched.

Then there was the legend of St. Meinrad, who lived in a hut made of
boughs on Mount Etzel, and had two ravens for his companions. Now it
happened that two robbers wandered near the hermitage, and foolishly
thinking that some treasure might be hidden there, they slew the Saint.
After a long search, in which they found nothing, they went down the
mountain to Zurich; but the holy man's ravens followed them with fierce
cries, whirling about their heads and dashing at their faces, so that
the people in the valley wondered at the sight. But one of the
dalesmen who knew the ravens sent his son to the hermitage to see if
all was well, and followed the fellows to the town. There they took
refuge in a tavern, but the ravens flew round and round the house,
screaming and pecking at the window near which the robbers had seated
themselves. Speedily the lad came down with the news of the cruel
murder; the robbers were seized, and, having confessed their crime,
they suffered the torture of death on the wheel.

And lastly there was the legend of St. Servan, who had a robin which
perched on his shoulder, and fed from his hand, and joined in with
joyful twittering when the Saint sang his hymns and psalms. Now the
lads in the abbey-school were jealous of the Saint's favourite pupil,
Kentigern, and out of malice they killed the robin and threw the blame
on Kentigern. Bitterly the innocent child wept and prayed over the
dead bird; and behold! when the Saint came from singing nones in the
minster, the robin fluttered up and flew away to meet him, chirruping
merrily.

"A thoughtless thing of little blame," said the Novice-master, "was the
wickedness of these boys compared with that of the monks