, who should he see but Miss Kathleen,
standing at the opening of the little cave, and smiling at him--as much
as to say, "Ah, you rogue, you see you can't escape me."

Shocked at the impropriety of her conduct, and provoked at being found
out, he put his feet against her, and kicked her into the lake! where,
I am sorry to say, she drowned in a very short time. In our day, there
would have been a hue and cry raised--a coroner's inquest--a great talk
in the newspapers--a trial--and, if the jury agreed, a hanging; but
there was nothing of the kind in that benighted time--nobody arrested
Keven, or punished him, and he went on his pious way in peace, building
churches and monasteries, and working miracles, or what passed for
such, till he got to be a very famous saint indeed. But my opinion is,
that it took more than the working of all the miracles assigned to him,
and the building of those miserable little edifices at Glendalough, to
atone for the drowning of that poor, foolish girl, Kathleen.

Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, in their admirable work On Ireland, give
several other anecdotes, told by their guide, Wynder, which illustrate
the saint's goodness of heart in rather an improbable way. "One day,
when he had retired to keep the forty days of Lent, in fasting,
meditation, and prayer, as he was holding his hand out of the window, a
blackbird came and laid her four eggs in it; and the saint, pitying the
bird, and unwilling to disturb her, never drew in his hand, but kept it
stretched out until she had brought forth her young, and they were
fully fledged and flew off with a chirping quartette of thanks to the
holy man, for his _convaynience_." Another is of "how he was once
going up Derrybawn, when he met a woman that carried five loaves in her
apron. 'What have you there, good woman?' said the saint. 'I have
five stones,' said she. 'If they are stones,' said he, 'I pray that
they may be bread; and if they are bread, I pray that they may be
stones.' So with that, the woman let them fall; and sure enough,
stones they were, and stones they are to this day." Our guide told us
this same anecdote, in a queer, half jesting, half believing way, and
pointed out the stones to us. I thought to myself that if they had not
been stones in the first place, they must have been very _heavy
bread_--too hard fare even for a saint.

We clambered up the rock, and crawled into the cave, which we found all
carved and written over with n