sandals that the monks use on the highroads,--yes, and worn them;
ten pair of them have I worn out and thrown away in a single
journey. Now I shoe my feet with the toughest hides, hard as iron;
no rock can cut them, no branches can tear them. Yet more than one
pair of these have I outworn, and many more shall I outwear ere my
journeys are ended. And I think, if God is gracious to me, that I
shall die wearing them. Better so than in a soft bed with silken
coverings. The boots of a warrior, a hunter, a woodsman,--these
are my preparation of the gospel of peace."

"Come, Gregor," he said, laying his brown hand on the youth's
shoulder, "come, wear the forester's boots with me. This is the
life to which we are called. Be strong in the Lord, a hunter of
the demons, a subduer of the wilderness, a woodsman of the faith.
Come!"

The boy's eyes sparkled. He turned to his grandmother. She shook
her head vigorously.

"Nay, father," she said, "draw not the lad away from my side with
these wild words. I need him to help me with my labours, to cheer
my old age."

"Do you need him more than the Master does?" asked Winfried; "and
will you take the wood that is fit for a bow to make a distaff?"

"But I fear for the child. Thy life is too hard for him. He will
perish with hunger in the woods."

"Once," said Winfried, smiling, "we were camped by the bank of the