tin and a friend of his lived as hermits on a wild little
island off the coast of Spain. But, hearing that St. Hilary had been
restored to his see, Martin went to Poitiers so as to fulfil his solemn
promise. But once more St. Hilary was to be disappointed, for this time
Martin begged to be allowed to continue his hermit's life. St. Hilary
gave him leave, and Martin now withdrew to a forest about eight miles
from Poitiers. Here he built himself a hut, and was soon surrounded by
men who wished to lead the same kind of holy life. This was the
beginning of all the wonderful monasteries of France, which civilized
the whole country in time and taught it to be Christian.

That Martin's new life was really pleasing to God was soon shown, for
God gave him the gift of doing miracles, and twice he even raised the
dead to life. You will remember how Our Lord specially promised that His
faithful followers, in the years to come, should do miracles like He had
done, and even greater ones. Well, St. Martin was one of the men who
showed that Our Lord's promise was fulfilled. All the men to whom the
Church has given the title "Saint" have done wonderful miracles, that
God's name might be glorified and people see that "with God all things
are possible." St. Martin now lived in very close communion with God,
and his miracles showed that he was not just an _ordinary_ good man.

Besides training his monks, St. Martin was working very hard among the
heathen Gauls. He would press forward through the forests and preach in
the little villages, and do miracles, and, after instructing the people
in the true Faith, baptize them all, and leave a happy Christian village
where he had found a miserable, frightened, heathen one.

St. Martin's tender pity for all suffering things is shown by this
little story. One day, as he walked in the country, he saw a poor,
terrified hare dashing along with starting eyes, and nearly exhausted,
for a party of huntsmen and their hounds were close upon it. St. Martin
saw that in a few minutes it must be torn to bits by the hounds, for
there was no cover for it. His tender heart longed to help it to escape,
because it was weak and small and frightened. So he called out to the
hounds to stop! And, strange to say, they pulled up short in their mad
rush, and all stood still as if frozen to the ground, and the poor
little hare scurried away into safety.

Now, this kind of life was just what suited St. Martin, and he was v