"Yes, but he never told me about any one named Ferus; there is no such person named in Anthon's Classical Dictionary, either. What sort of a man was he?"
"Why, once there was a man, an' his name was Ferus—Offerus, an' he went about fightin' for kings, but when any king got afraid of anybody, he wouldn't fight for him no more. An' one day he couldn't find no kings that wasn't afraid of nobody. An' the people told him the Lord was the biggest king in the world, an' he wasn't afraid of nobody nor nothing. An' he asked 'em where he could find the Lord, an' they said he was 'way up in heaven so nobody couldn't see him but the angels, but he liked folks to work for him instead of fight. So Ferus wanted to know what kind of work he could do, an' the people said there was a river not far off, where there wasn't no ferry-boats, 'cos the water run so fast, an' they guessed if he'd carry folks across, the Lord would like it. So Ferus went there, an' he cut him a good, strong cane, an' whenever anybody wanted to go across the river he'd carry 'em on his back.
"One night he was sittin' in his little house by the fire, and smokin' his pipe an' readin' the paper, an' 'twas rainin' an' blowin' an' hailin' an' stormin', an' he was so glad there wasn't anybody wantin' to go 'cross the river, when he heard somebody call out, 'Ferus!' An' he looked out the window, but he couldn't see nobody, so he sat down again. Then somebody called, 'Ferus!' again, and he opened the door again, an' there was a little bit of a boy, 'bout as big as Toddie. An' Ferus said, 'Hello, young fellow, does your mother know you're out?' An' the little boy said, 'I want to go 'cross the river.'—'Well,' says Ferus, 'you're a mighty little fellow to be travelin' alone, but hop up.' So the little boy jumped up on Ferus' back, and Ferus walked into the water. Oh, my—wasn't it cold? An' every step he took, the little boy got heavier, so Ferus nearly tumbled down an' they liked to both got drownded. An' when they got across the river Ferus said, 'Well, you are the heaviest small fry I ever carried,' an' he turned around to look at him, an' 'twasn't no little boy at all—'twas a big man—'twas Christ. An' Christ said, 'Ferus, I heard you was tryin' to work for me, so I thought I'd come down an' see you, an' not let you know who I was. An' now you shall have a new name; you shall be called Christofferus, 'cos that means Christ-carrier.' An' everybody called him Christofferus after that, an' when he died they called him Saint Christopher, 'cos Saint is what they call good people when they're dead."
Budge, himself, had the face of a rapt saint as he told this story, but my contemplation of his countenance was suddenly arrested by Toddie, who, disapproving of the unexciting nature of his brother's recital, had strayed into the garden, investigated a hornet's nest, been stung, and set up a piercing shriek. He ran in to me, and as I hastily picked him up, he sobbed:—
"Want to be wocked.[7] Want 'Toddie one boy day.'"
[7] Rocked
I rocked him violently, and petted him tenderly, but again he sobbed:—
"Want 'Toddie one boy day.'"
"What does the child mean?" I exclaimed.
"He wants you to sing to him about 'Charlie boy one day,'" said Budge. "He always wants mamma to sing that when he's hurt, an' then he stops crying."