"Your breath, the emperor says, stinks so
sorely, that when you hand the cup to him, his
drink does him no good."

"And does it stink so?"

"Truly," quoth the steward, "it stinketh
greatly and foul."

Fulgentius was advised, therefore, to avert his
face when he next offered the cup, and did so.
But when the emperor perceived the avoiding of
his head, he smote this young Fulgentius on the
breast with his foot, and chased him from his
sight. Then he called the steward to him and
said,

"How may I rid me of this varlet?"

"Easily enough," said the steward; " for
three miles away there are brickmakers, who
daily make a great fire to bum bricks, and also
they make lime. Send to them word this night
that they cast into their furnace and burn the
first man who comes to them to-morrow and
asks whether they have done as my lord
commanded them. And this night bid Fulgentius
go thither betimes in the morning with that
question."

So it was done. But Fulgentius on his way
to the brickmakers in the morning, heard a bell
ring to service, wherefore he went in to pray,
and after praying slept so soundly, that not one
of the priests could awaken him. And in the
afternoon the steward, finding the youth gone
many hours since, and willing to pleasure
himself by hearing of his death, went to the workmen,
and said,

"Sirs, have you done as my lord commanded
you, or no?"

The brickmakers replied, "Not yet, but it
shall be done," and lifted him to put him in the
fire.

Then the steward cried that the emperor's
command had been "to put Fulgentius to
death."

"His message," they answered," said not so,
but that whoever first asked us, as you have
asked, should be cast into the fire and burnt to
ashes."

Afterwards came Fulgentius, and was told in
reply to the same question,

"Yes; before thee came the steward, and on
him we have fulfilled the emperor's command.
There remains of him only the dry bones."

The emperor was angry when he saw
Fulgentius return alive, but a few questions and
answers opened his eyes to the wicked fraud
that had been practised on him.

Another story. When Emperor Leo reigned,
he loved, above all things, beautiful faces. So
he built a temple, in which he set three
beautiful stone images of women, and commanded
that they should be worshipped. One figure
stretched out its hand towards the people,
upon the forefinger a gold ring, inscribed, "My
finger is generous." Another had a golden
beard and the label, "I have a beard; if any
one be beardless, let him come to me and I will
give him one." The third had a golden cloak,
and bore the inscription, "I fear no one."  A
law was made that it was death to take ring,
beard, or cloak. Yet there came a man who took
all three, and then was himself taken. In
justification, he said:

"My lord, suffer me to speak. One image
held out the ring to me, as if inviting me to
take; and when I went closer, and read, 'My
finger is generous,' of course I took what was
offered. The statue with a beard was made by
a man whom I have seen and know to be beardless.
It is not fit that the creature be more
than the creator, so I was about to take, when I
read that, if any man was beardless (as you see
I am), the image would give. As for the
gold cloak, gold being a metal is cold, and
the stone of the image is cold, and cold upon
cold in winter-time would be cruel addition,
while in summer the gold cloak would be too
heavy. So I took the cloak away, as was but
reasonable, and it was the more right to do so,
as the stone was inscribed, 'I fear nobody,' and
needed to be humbled when it made itself equal
even to flesh and blood."

"That is your justification," said the
emperor. " Nevertheless, you shall be hanged."

There was a good deal of need in the old days
for such encouragement, as the following story
gives. In the reign of Otho there was a priest
of so bad character, that one of his parishioners
always absented himself from mass when he
officiated. One festival day, therefore, he was
walking in the meadows, absent from the church,
when he became oppressed with thirst, and
drinking of a brook that did not refresh him,
began to seek for the fresher water of the fountain
head, when a majestic old man appeared,
and, pointing to the source of the brook, asked
why the parishioner was not at mass? The man
answered,

"Truly, master, our priest leads such an
execrable life, that he can, I am sure, bring us no
blessing."

"It may be that he is bad," said the old man,
"but look at the water-spring from which this
brook descends."

He looked, and saw that all the water flowed
out of the mouth of a dead dog.

"You have drunk of this and not been
refreshed," said the old man. "Drink again."

The man drank again, with a shudder, and
instantly recovered from his drought.

"Never was more delicious water!" he
exclaimed, with joy.

"So receive, then, the waters of life, even
from the mouth of a worthless minister."

In this story there was emblem in the dog,
for, says the interpretation, in the dog there are
four things: a medicinal tongue, a distinguishing
nose, an unshaken faith, and unremitting
watchfulness.

One story more. Nobody now reads Parnell;
we may therefore take the tale on which he built
his poem of the Hermit.

Once upon a time, there was a hermit worshipping
in his cave by day and by night. Near his
cell was a shepherd, who one day slept at his
work, so that a robber came and carried off his
sheep. The shepherd awoke and raged, but the