Mother, he told us such pretty stories; I can't think of the names; they must have been Dutch, they were so long and hard.

But I remember one of the tales; he said there was once a good man who lived in Asia, and one day he lost his crucifix; he looked everywhere for it, but could not find it; and a long time afterward, he happened to be walking by the sea-shore and looked out on the water, and oh, what do you think! He saw his crucifix moving on the water, and a great crab paddled out to land and laid his crucifix down before him, and then paddled right back into the sea again.

Now wasn't that funny.

I can't think of the good man's name, Saint--Somebody--Saint--Saint--" "Brother, I reckon it was Saint Crab!" "No, no! It was the crab that found the crucifix, and I think he was smarter than the saint." "Now, Florry, should I repeat this legend to Aunt Lizzy, it would be impossible to convince her that it proceeded from the Padre's lips.
Yet even prelates of Rome scruple not to narrate as miracles tales equally absurd, where their auditory is sufficiently ignorant to credit them.

Pardon my interruption, Elliot, and finish your story," continued Mary.
"Mother, the Padre talked to Erasmo in Spanish.