This St John is always pictured to us as a thin, melancholy, half-starved saint, who has had all the life washed out of him by his long immersion.

There are saints to whom a trusting religious heart can turn, relying on their apparent physical capabilities.

St Mark, for instance, is always a tower of strength, and St Christopher is very stout, and St Peter carries with him an ancient manliness which makes one marvel at his cowardice when he denied his Master.

St Lawrence, too, with his gridiron, and St Bartholomew with his flaying-knife and his own skin hanging over his own arm, look as though they liked their martyrdom, and were proud of it, and could be useful on an occasion.

But this St John of the Bridges has no pride in his appearance, and no strength in his look.