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Updated: May 14, 2025
She only called to him to stand out of her light. "You look a poor brat; have you a home?" said another woman, who sold bridles and whips and horses' bells and the like. "Oh, yes, I have a home by Martinswand," said Findelkind, with a sigh. The woman looked at him sharply. "Your parents have sent you on an errand here?" "No; I have run away." "Run away?
By and by, when he could not see Martinswand by turning his head back ever so, he came to an inn that used to be a post-house in the old days when men travelled only by road. A woman was feeding chickens in the bright clear red of the cold daybreak. Findelkind timidly held out his hand. "For the poor!" he murmured, and doffed his cap. The old woman looked at him sharply.
"You are a little idolater and a little impudent sinner!" he said, wrathfully, and shook the boy by the shoulder, and went away, and the throng that had gathered around had only poor Findelkind left to tease. He was a very poor little boy indeed to look at, with his sheepskin tunic, and his bare feet and legs, and his wallet that never was to get filled.
Theodoric seemed to look down on him with benignant eyes from under the raised visor; and our poor Findelkind, weeping, threw his small arms closer and closer round the bronze knees of the heroic figure, and sobbed aloud, "Help me, help me! Oh, turn the hearts of the people to me, and help me to do good!" But Theodoric answered nothing.
The short summer passed as fast as a dragon-fly flashes by, all green and gold, in the sun; and it was near winter once more, and still Findelkind was always dreaming and wondering what he could do for the good of St. Christopher; and the longing to do it all came more and more into his little heart, and he puzzled his brain till his head ached.
Christopher, and going out night and day, to the sound of the Angelus, seeking the lost and weary. This is really what Findelkind of Arlberg did five centuries ago, and did so well that his fraternity of St.
She only called to him to stand out of her light. "You look a poor brat; have you a home?" said another woman, who sold bridles and whips and horses' bells, and the like. "Oh, yes, I have a home, by Martinswand," said Findelkind, with a sigh. The woman looked at him sharply. "Your parents have sent you on an errand here?" "No; I have run away." "Run away?
Findelkind sighed again, his momentary anger passing; for he had been born with a gentle temper, and thought himself to blame much more readily than he thought other people were, as, indeed, every wise child does, only there are so few children or men that are wise.
Findelkind of Arlberg, who was in heaven now, must look down, he fancied, and think him so stupid and so selfish sitting there. The first Findelkind a few centuries before had trotted down on his bare feet from his mountain-pass, and taken his little crook and gone out boldly over all the land on his pilgrimage, and knocked at castle-gates and city-walls in Christ's name and for love of the poor.
But perhaps it would be wicked. Perhaps God put the roof there with all that gold to prove people. Findelkind got bewildered. If God did such a thing, was it kind? His head seemed to swim, and the sunshine went round and round with him. There went by him, just then, a very venerable-looking old man with silver hair; he was wrapped in a long cloak.
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