but now, that you are come, the shears have
ceased to cut."—"Fear not," quoth the hermit,
"cut on as you have begun, with the same
shears.''—The knight, resuming confidence,
finished his work with the same ease as
before, and smoothed off the uneven parts
without any difficulty. And, from that time
forth, the man of God, without any shears,
and with his fingers only, but with no less
faith, used to distribute rings of the coat of
mail, by the which all those who asked in
charity were healed.—Roger of Wendover,
A.D. 1154.

The good King Oswald, who would often-
times send the dishes away from his own
royal table, before he had partaken of them,
in order that the poor might be fed and
comforted therewith, was ever dispensing alms,
and bestowing wholesome and pious instruction
among his subjects. When he was slain
by the merciless conqueror, Penda, his arms,
with the hands, and his head, were cut off by
the infuriated victor, and fixed on a stake,
the dead trunk being laid to rest in the calm
bosom of the earth, turning into its native
dust; but the arms and hands which had
dispensed so many alms, do remain to this
day perfect, though the rest of the body—the
bones only excepted—have mouldered into
dust.—William of Malmesbury, book i., chap. 3.

St. Edmund the Martyr, king of England,
was a man devoted to God, and never,
through the effeminacy of the times, did he
relax his virtue and wholesome discipline.
Hingwar and Hubba, two leaders of the
Danes, who had come over to ravage the
provinces of the Northumbrians and East Angles,
seized the unresisting king, who had cast
away his arms, and was lying on the ground
in prayer; and, having fastened him to a tree,
they shot him to death with arrows, and
cruelly beheaded him. But the purity of his
past life was set forth by unheard-of miracles.
His head had been cast away by the Danes,
and was hidden in a thicket. Whilst his
subjects, who had tracked the footsteps of the
enemy, as they departed, were seeking it,
intending to solemnise the funeral rites of
their king, by the interposition of God, the
lifeless head uttered a voice, inviting all who
were in search of it to approach. A wolf—a
beast ever wont to prey upon dead bodies—
was holding it in his paws, and guarding it,
untouched; and the same beast, after the
manner of a tame creature, quietly followed
the bearers to the tomb, and neither did nor
received any harm.

When the sacred body of the martyr king
was committed to the earth, turf was placed
over it, and a wooden chapel of trifling cost
erected over the remains. But soon did the
merits of the departed saint manifest
themselves after a wondrous fashion. Certain
thieves, who had endeavoured to break into
the church by night, he bound with invisible
bands. This took place in their very attempt ;
and a right pleasant and diverting spectacle
it was. to see the plunder hold fast the thief,
so that he could neither give up the attempt,
nor complete his wicked design. Therefore
did Theocred, bishop of London, do more
fitting honour to the remains of the pious
king, building a nobler edifice over those
sacred limbs, which did well show the glory
of his unspotted soul, by their surprising
soundness, and their delicate milk-white hue.
One further circumstance doth indeed surpass
human miracles, to wit, that the hair and
nails of the dead king continued to grow ;
and these, Oswen, a holy woman, used yearly
to clip and cut, that they might be relics for
the veneration of posterity. Truly this was a
holy boldness, for a woman to contemplate
and handle limbs superior to the whole of
this world.—William of Malmesbury, book ii.,
chap. 13.

Of a like nature is the miracle which
happened when the body of St. Hugh was being
solemnly interred at Lincoln. A certain thief,
taking advantage of the press and crowd
of people assembling around the remains of
this servant of God, cut away a woman's
purse; but, by the merits of the blessed
bishop, who showed that, though life had
quitted his body, virtue had not departed out
of him, both the hands of the wicked thief
were so contracted, and his fingers so firmly
fixed to the palms of his hands, that, quite
unable to hold the property he had stolen,
he let it fall on the pavement, and, standing
aghast and terrified, he was as one stricken
with madness. While the people looked on,
and mocked him with derision, he came to
himself, and stood motionless. At length he
began to weep bitterly; and, while all listened,
he confessed the crime he had attempted to
perpetrate. Then, turning to the priest, he
exclaimed, " Pity, pity me, ye friends of God;
for I renounce Satan and his works, to whom
I have till now been a slave; and pray to the
Lord for me, that he may not confound me in
my penance, but may deal mercifully with
me." And when prayer had been made for
him, the chains of Satan, by which his hands
were bound, were loosed; and, being made
whole, he returned thanks to God and to the
blessed bishop.—Roger of Wendover, A.D. 1200.

A little boy who went to school with the
curate of the parish, amused himself, one day,
jumping over the tomb of St. Rigobert,
outraging his God and his Saviour. To the end
that the merits of Rigobert might be known,
and that a like audacity might not again
take place, the boy's foot was instantly
stricken, so that he became lame, and lost the
use of one of his feet. This is why the curate
caused a barrier to be placed around the
tomb, fearing lest some one in ignorance
might run the risk of a like punishment.—
Histoire de l'Eglise de Reims, lib. ii., chap. 14,
in Bibliothèque Poche, vol. iv., p. 140.

And so much, reader, for "a few miracles."
Perhaps your more recent experience may add
a few to the list.