Volume 7 — Translated From The French. Breton Legend Of St. Christopher.

As every one knows, St. Christopher had very broad shoulders; so in former times he was ferryman for the river of Scorff. One bright day, our Lord arrived at the bank of the river with his twelve apostles. Christopher made haste to take them in his arms, and was delighted to pay them every possible respect.

"Well," said our Lord, "what are your wages?"

"Ask for Paradise," whispered St. Peter.

"Let me alone, I have my own ideas. If, my Lord, you desire to bestow a favor on me, promise that every object I wish for shall be obliged to enter my sack."

"I will do it," said our Lord, "but on condition that you never ask for money, and only for those things of which you have need."

So, for a long time, things went well; the sack filled only with bread, fruits, beans, and other vegetables; and often it was emptied for the benefit of the poor. But alas! who can say they may not enter into temptation? One morning Christopher was passing through the street of a neighboring town, when he stopped before the shop of a money-changer. He did wrong, for all those heaps of money excited his curiosity and gave him very bad thoughts.

"See," said the wicked broker to him, "what you can do with all this money! You can rebuild the huts of the poor, and make life for them so happy and desirable. Don't you wish it was all yours?"

Christopher had a moment of weakness, and the money jumped into his bag. But don't be severe: Christopher was not yet the saint he afterward became, only a mere mortal man. So this first failing led to others, and while it must be confessed he was very generous to the poor, he loved his own good cheer and did not hesitate to enjoy it. So one day, as he was reposing on the grass after an unusually good dinner, the devil passed that way, and began to bully him and crack some of his disagreeable jokes. Christopher was not remarkably patient, his fists were itching for a fight, so in a moment he was on his feet and pitched into the devil right royally. As the forces were pretty equal, the battle lasted two days, and the end could not be foreseen. The thick grass disappeared from under their feet, and from afar the noise of the blows resounded like two hammers falling and refalling one upon the other. They would have been at it yet if Christopher had not happily thought of his sack. "Ah cursed devil! by the virtue of our Lord thou shalt enter my sack." So in he popped, and Christopher was not slow to draw the cords tight and swing him over his shoulders, while he wondered at the same time how in the world he would ever get rid of him. A forge appeared as he walked, and two brawny men were beating the red fire with tremendous blows. This gave him an idea; so he addressed himself to the smiths, and said: "I have got a wicked animal in my bag; I could not pretend to tell you all the villanous tricks he has played in his life; so, if you will forge him until he is about as thick as a sixpenny piece, I will give you a crown." They consented; and, notwithstanding the cries and somersaults of the devil, they hammered and beat him the whole night long. When the day dawned, a weak voice cried out, "Christopher, Christopher, I give up; what shall I do to get out of this?"

"Swear obedience to me for ever, and never trouble me again."

"I swear it."

"Very well; get out with you, and I will not say Au revoir."

From this moment, Christopher entirely changed his life, only occupied himself in good works, and, when he grew too feeble to be ferryman for the river Scorff, he retired into the little hermitage, upon the ruins of which is built the chapel still to be seen. There he lived in prayer and penitence, and was visited by many pilgrims, who were attracted by his great reputation of sanctity. However, when after his death he presented himself to St. Peter, who, we know, holds the keys of Paradise, he was refused admittance, because the latter said he had formerly rejected his advice, and he feared to let him in.

The poor Christopher, very sad, and looking rather snubbed, wandered about, and in his distraction took the stairs that led to hell. He descended an unheard-of number of steps, and finally arrived at a door, where was a very good-looking young man, who courteously invited him to enter; but Satan happened to pass by, and, seeing him, cried out nervously: "No, no! not in here; I know him well. Send him away, he is entirely too cunning for me!"

So Christopher could do nothing but remount to the entrance of Paradise, where he could at least listen outside to the delicious strains of heavenly harmony issuing from within, and he felt more and more desirous to be admitted. He paused and thought; then, putting his ear as close as possible, "My Lord St. Peter," said he, "what admirable harmony you have in there! If you would only set the door ajar, I might at least hear and enjoy it."

St. Peter was kind-hearted, so he did as he was asked; and instantly St. Christopher threw in his sack, and sprang in after it. "At home, at last," said he, "and you can't turn me out." St. Peter conceded he was right, so he has since remained in heaven, and we must acknowledge he well deserved so comfortable an abode.

[Supplement to the article on "The Sanitary and Moral Condition of New York City" in our July number.]