Legends and stories of the holy child Jesus from many lands

Contents

PAGE

Ireland. — "The Poorest of Them All," . 5 England. — "Art Thou There, My Jesus?" . 21 France. — My Little Doll, . . . .37 Spain. — The Betrothal of Isabella, . . 66 Italy. — II Santo Bambino dell' Ara Cceli, . 79 Greece. — The Desired Haven, . . . . 91 Portugal. — The Jaws of Death, . . .125 Russia. — The Frozen Hands, . . . .136 Denmark. — The Danish Boy; or, Wrecked

among the Icebergs, 144

I

ITTLE Stephen ran along the streets, one raw morning in November, to school. Every now and then he stopped to wipe his eyes with his blue hands or his dirty pinafore, or to give vent to a heartrending sob. When he passed by the baker's, the sob rose into a wail of despair; for Stephen's supper the night before had been but a hunch of bread, and he had had no breakfast that morning.

Stephen's father was out of work, his mother could only earn a little by going out charring, and nearly all her scanty earnings were forced from her by Stephen's father to spend in drink.

And when he had been drinking he beat his wife and children; and so, besides the cold and hunger he had to bear, poor little Stephen was sore from bruises. Altogether, he was as unfit for a morning's work in school as any little boy can possibly be.

" Hallo, Steve," cried some one behind him, as he turned the last corner and came in sight of the school-house, " what are you crying for?"

Stephen turned and saw Jack Thompson, a much bigger boy than himself, but still a great friend.

"I'm so cold and hungry," he faltered, "and father beat me last night because I cried when he hit mother."

" Haven't you had any breakfast?"

" No," and Stephen sobbed again, for he felt a wolf gnawing at his stomach.

" Here," said Jack, putting his hand into his pocket, and drawing thence two slices of bread and dripping, " you can have both these, for father and mother are both in work, and so we have plenty to eat just now."

Stephen took the bread and dripping from his companion eagerly, and sitting down on a doorstep began to devour his breakfast.

"Poor old chap," said Jack, watching him

2-6 with honest pleasure. " Your father ain't done no work for nigh on two months, have he?"

"No," said Stephen. "We ain't had no fire this winter. Mother couldn't get no work last week neither, and so we have had very little to eat."

Just then the school-bell rang, and the clock struck nine.

" Oh, I say now," cried Stephen, who had only just eaten his first slice of bread.

" Never mind, I'll wait for you, and we'll go in late together."

" All right, but don't you get into trouble just for me."

" Pooh," returned Jack loftily. "What do I care? As long as I have enough to eat and drink, and a fire to warm me when it's cold, I don't care a fig for all the rest."

When at last Stephen was ready, and they went into school, the master was chalking up the names of the late-comers on the blackboard for punishment.

" John Thompson," he said frowning on Jack. " The third time this week you have been late for school. I shall cane you to-day, sir. Stand by my desk. As for you, Stephen Grey, you are as naughty a little boy of six years old as is to be found in London. Go and stand on the dunce's stool in the corner, with the dunce's cap on your head."

And so on, until all the culprits had been called over, and a punishment given to each.

Jack held out his hand bravely, looking over at Stephen and winking at him as he saw how the poor little boy was distressed at his being caned through his fault. Indeed, he tossed his head and glanced round with such an air of cool contempt that the master struck him smartly on the head with the cane.

Every bone in poor Stephen's little body ached, so that he could hardly stand upright, and he could not keep back the tears which flowed down his face.

"Do you want to wash your face?" sneered the master. " You might do that before coming to school, I think."

He looked round at the boys, expecting them to smile at his wit, but they were sorry for Stephen, for most of them knew what it was to be very cold and very hungry too. They most of them looked sulky or indifferent, and not one smiled. This made the master more angry, and he went up and slapped Stephen's face.

Poor little Stephen, the unkindness hurt him far more than the blow.

&5

At twelve o'clock he went out into the streets to wander about until afternoon school. He dared not go home, for his father could not bear him, and his mother herself did not love him half as much as his little brother of four years old.

He cried again a little, for a wolf was gnawing at his stomach very pitilessly, and his hands and feet were quite numb with the cold.

"What is the matter, my little man?" asked a kind voice suddenly, while a gentle hand caressed his bare head and tangled curls.

Stephen sobbed out:

" I'm so cold and hungry, and it's such a long time to wait."

" Have you no home to go to?" asked the gentleman so gently that Stephen looked up at him, and saw a kind, holy face. It was a Dominican Father, who had been out visiting the poor all the morning.

" We've nothing to eat at home. Jack said he would try and bring me a bit of bread and cheese if he could get it from his mother."

"Don't wait for Jack, then," said the priest. " Come home with me, and I will try to find you something warm. Come along, and don't be afraid. But how is it that you have nothing to eat at home? "

" Father's out of work, and mother too; and there's so very little, and I have a little brother, and they must feed him first because he's only a baby."

" Poor little chap, and how old are you? But here's the house. Come in, and we'll see what there is to eat first."

A younger man in a white habit opened the door. He smiled when he saw the little boy, and taking him by the hand led him away to a little room, where he washed his face and hands and feet in warm water, and giving him a chair by a little table near the fire, brought him in a nice bowl of soup, and afterward a plate of meat and bread, such as Stephen had never eaten before.

After he had finished, the kind priest came in and asked him if he had enjoyed his dinner, and where he lived, and a great many other questions.

"Now, my boy," he said finally, "to-morrow you may come at seven o'clock with as many other little companions as you like to bring, and we will give you as much bread and butter as you can eat, and perhaps a little plum cake into the bargain."

Stephen's eyes brightened as he looked up at the kind, smiling face, and tried to thank the

Father. He could only stammer out a few words, but his bright eager eyes were far more eloquent.

II

The next evening Jack and Stephen, with some of their picked companions, who they were sure would not be " cheeky," put their heads under the pump in " Pine Apple Court," where they lived, and set off for the house in Green Street. They arrived before the church about six o'clock, and loitered about, and played a few games until the clock chimed seven. Then, each pushing the other to the front, they crowded round the door, and Jack timidly rang the bell.

Father Gregory, the priest who had found Steve the day before, opened the door, and with a kind smile of welcome said :

"Ah, here you are. Come in, come in; there's room for you all, and many more too, both in our hearts and in our room."

The boys crowded into the large room prepared for their reception, in which there was a blazing fire. A long table was spread with plates of bread and butter and cake, teacups, and a steaming urn. Two more priests and a

EnglanD.

brother came in to wait on them, while Father Gregory poured out the tea.

At one end of the room was a crucifix, at the other a statue of the Blessed Virgin with her divine Child in her arms. Round the wall were hung pictures of the life of our blessed Lord, of His childhood, His public life, and His sufferings.

There were also book-shelves containing old and new books, which had been given the priests for their mission to the boys of East London. After the boys had eaten as much as they could, and pocketed unlimited slices of cake for the next day, Father Gregory gathered them round him, and talked to them, and listened to their tales of misery, for they were all children of very poor parents. He then told them why he wished to make friends with them, and asked them so lovingly to -always look upon him as their friend, that he won their hearts at once.

" You all know what it is to suffer, to bear pain and hunger and cold," he said. "Now, I want to show you how to be happy in spite of all these things."

Then he spoke of Jesus, of His love, and of all He suffered for us, and of how His presence makes every hardship sweet and every burden light. He told them of the birth of Jesus in

the manger, and though some of them had been sometimes to Sunday-school, they never realized till they heard these words of burning love that Jesus had done all this for love of them : for each one of them moreover.

They promised gladly to come again, indeed they would have come every night of the week, but Father Gregory, with foresight and wisdom, judged that it would be better to let them come twice a week only, that they might not grow tired afterward.