southern countries of Europe, of
preparing the flesh of a lamb on Holy Saturday, in honour of the Paschal
Lamb, which flesh is blessed on the Saturday, and used to break the fast
of Lent on the next day.[3] When all is ready there comes to them a man
with a basket of bread baken on the coals--evidently meaning Passover
bread. This man now becomes a regular although occasional feature in the
narrative, and is called their provider (_procurator_). He foretells
their journey for some time, and how they will be until a week after
Pentecost in a place which is called the _Eden of Birds_.

[Footnote 3: In Italy at least, in order as far as possible to combine
the strict fast of the Saturday with a fulfilment of the words of Ex.
xii. 8, 'And they shall eat the flesh in that night.' It is usual to
have an image of a lamb in sugar or other confectionary, which is also
blessed during the day, and eaten at supper.]

Thus furnished, they go to an island close by, which he has pointed out
to them as the place where they are to remain until the following noon.
This island is destitute of grass, and with but scanty vegetation, and
there is no sand upon its shores. All goes well until the next day, when
they light a fire to boil the pot, whereupon the island becomes restive,
and finally sinks into the sea, although they all manage to escape into
the ship. '"Brethren," saith Brendan, "ye wonder at that which this
island hath done." "Father," say they, "we wonder sorely, and great
dread hath taken hold upon us." He said unto them, "Little children, be
not afraid, for God hath this night shown unto me the secret of this
thing. Where we have been was not an island but the first fish of all
that swim in the ocean, and he seeketh ever to bring his tail unto his
mouth, but he cannot, because of his length. Jasconius is his name."'

This is the only incident in the whole romance which is actually
grotesque. But from the solemnity with which it is narrated, it is
evident that it did not appear to be grotesque to the author. It seems
to have taken the fancy of the early and mediaeval public, and even of
the iconographic public in a special degree. The word _whale_ has
commonly been applied to the beast, and as the same episode occurs in
the story of _Sinbad the Sailor_, Jubinal has set himself to speculate
how that story, or the _Arabian Nights_ in which it is incorporated,
came to be known in Ireland. I confess I do not agree with him. In the