to the outward appearance, we naturally find
Christian legends giving more prominence
to conduct like that of St. Martin to the
beggar. The tale is called " The Three Meetings;"
and runs thus:

In the old, old time, when there were as
many holy hermitages in Lower Brittany as
there are drinking-shops now, there were in the
bishopric of Leon two young lairds, Tonyk and
Mylio, who had lost their father when they
were quite children. Their mother had them
carefully taught, so that by the time Tonyk was
fourteen and his brother sixteen, they knew as
much as any priest, and might have taken
orders if they had been old enough, and had had
a call that way. Well, their mother thought it
was time they should see something of the
world, so giving each of them a new bonnet,
a full purse, a purple cloak, and a horse, she
sent them with her blessing to seek a very rich
uncle, who lived a long way off. They went on
and on at a great pace, till they came into quite
another country, where neither the trees nor
the corn were a bit like what they were used to
round home; and there, by a wayside cross,
they saw a poor woman sitting down and weeping
bitterly, with her face covered with her
apron. Tonyk stopped, aud asked her what
was the matter.

"I have lost my son," said she, sobbing,
"and he was all I had to depend on; and now
I've nothing to look to but charity of good
Christian people."

Tonyk had his hand in his pocket, when his
brother called out jeeringly:

"Don't you see that she's just sitting there,
like a decoy-bird, to catch silly travellers."

"Peace, brother; you make her weep more
bitterly still. Don't you see that, in height
and age, she seems just like our mother, whom
God protect."

Then, giving his purse to the poor woman,
he whispered:

"I can do nothing else to help you, poor
woman; but you shall have my prayers as well."

The beggar-woman took the purse, kissed it,
and said:

"Young laird, since you have been so generous
to me, be pleased to accept this nut. Inside
it there is a wasp with a diamond sting."

Tonyk thanked her, put the nut in his
pocket, and rode on.

By-and-by they came to the edge of a forest,
where they saw a little child almost naked,
searching about in the crevices of the trees,
and singing a tune which they had never heard
before, and which was strangely sad—far sadder
than the music of the mass for the dead. He
often stopped to clap his little ice-cold hands
singing, "I'm so cold, I'm so cold;" and the
brothers heard his teeth chatter.

"Poor little thing," said Tonyk, "how he
feels the wind!"

"He must be a very cold subject, then,"
retorted Mylio. "I find the wind very
pleasant."

"But then see how you are dressed—velvet
waistcoat, cloth coat, and purple cloak over
that."

"Ah, that's all very well, but he's used to it:
he's only some labourer's child."

However, Tonyk stops, and asks the boy
what he is doing.

"I'm looking for flying needles,"* said he;
" I find them asleep in cracks in the trees, and
when I get a lot of them, I shall take them
down to the town and sell them, that I may
buy a coat, to keep me always as warm as if
the sun was shining."

"How many have you caught?"

"Only one, as yet." And the boy held up a
little cage of rushes, in which he had
imprisoned it.

"Well, here's a bargain. You take my
cloak, and give me the fly; and remember
every night to say an Ave for Mylio there, and
one for our mother too."

The brothers went on. At first Tonyk felt
the cold a great deal, but by-and-by, when they
had got over the down, a ray of sun came out,
and he was able to go on comfortably.

Then they came to a spring in a meadow;
and by the side of it sat an old man in rags,
with a wallet on his back. He began calling
out piteously the moment he saw them.

"What do you want, father?" said Tonyk,
touching his hat out of respect for the old
man's years.

"Ah, my dear young gentleman, you see
how old I am, and I'm so weak I can't walk at
all. So I've nothing for it but to die here where
I am, unless one of you will sell me his horse."

"Why, you old gaberlunzie," said Mylio, " I
should like to know what you've got to pay
with."

"Seest thou this hollow acorn," said the
beggar; " there is a spider inside that can spin
a web stronger than steel. Ye shall have spider
and acorn in exchange for a horse."

Mylio burst into fits of laughter. "Just
listen to that, brother; the old fellow must
have a pair of calf's feet in his brogues" (i.e.
must be an impudent fool).

Tonyk replied, " He can't offer more than he
has got, you know. Here, old man, I give you
my horse, not because of what you offer in
return, but because Christ hath said the poor are
blessed. Take it, and thank God, who has put
it into my heart to give it you."

The old man makes the lad take his spider, and
rides away; but Mylio, who had been getting more
and more ill-humoured, bursts out and says:

"You idiot! I suppose you expect me to share
purse and cloak and horse with you, but you're
mistaken; you may just get on as best you can."

He trots off, and Tonyk plods on without
one angry feeling against his brother.

But soon the road led through a narrow glen
between steep mountains, which rose sheer up
even to the clouds. It was called the "Dowie
Loaning," because of an ogre who lived on one
of the mountains, and watched for travellers.
He was a blind giant, without any feet, but his

* The Breton name for the small dragon-fly.