Tow, row, row! Paddy will you now,
    Take me whilst I'm in the humour,
     And that's now.

The instant the first notes of this old Irish
air were played, open flew the gates; and,
before the saint had time to finish the tune,
out came King MacLaw himself, as fine
a-looking old gentleman as you could see in a
day's walk, but still bearing a very strong
likeness to the negro, Count Canao; but,
with this difference, that the hair of King
MacLaw's head was as red as fire, and his
beard as black as a raven's wing. King
MacLaw was followed by six gentlemen, as
fine, stout, strong, hearty, handsome, able
young men. as you could meet at a hurling-
match in Tipperary.

"A hundred thousand welcomes to you,
whoever you are, for the sake of the country
you come from," said King MacLaw, stepping
up, and shaking hands with Columbanus.
"But, come in out of the air, my good man,
You shall have the best of roast beef for your
dinner, the best of French wine for your tea,
and the best feather-bed of my own to sleep in."

"More power to you, King MacLaw, and
your health to wear it!'" said the saint. " It
is easy seeing you have a good drop of Irish
blood in your veins."

"You may say that with your own pretty
mouth," replied King MacLaw, " but hurry in
with you. My heart is full of grief and
trouble this blessed day; and, the only comfort
I have in life, is when I see people eating
or drinking, or when I am doing that same
myself."

In they brought the saint to the castle, and
nothing would do King MacLaw but he
must place the saint by his own side, and
carve the saint's dinner for him, and he put so
much meat on the saint's plate, as would puzzle
six harvest-labourers to get through; and he
never stopped filling the saint's tumbler for
him; until, at last, Columbanus had to stand
up, and declare he would leave the house that
instant, if his Majesty did not stop stuffing
him like a crammed fowl.

"I never think I give my guests half
enough," said King MacLaw, "until I find
them ready to take their oaths they have had
too much."

"You learned that trick from your Irish
ancestors," said the saint.

"True for you," said the king.

"More power to you! " answered the
saint. "And now, King MacLaw, as you have
been doing so many things to oblige me, will
you do another?"

"Twenty," said the king; "and, the more
you ask, the more I'll be obliged to you."

"One at a time is enough," said the saint,
"but will you do it?"

"To be sure I will," said King MacLaw.
"What is it?"

"Just tell me why your heart is so full of
grief and trouble. I have a reason for asking
you," said the saint.

"Wait till I mix myself a tumbler of
brandy-punch," said the King. " Sorrow is
dry; and I never could have the heart to
tell you that same, without taking a drop
every two  minutes of the real Nantes
brandy."

The king put three lumps of loaf-sugar
into a tumbler, then filled it half-full of
brandy, and then poured in some hot water,
stirred the mixture with a gold spoon, and
then swallowed two glasses of the punch as
hot as he could sup it. Wiping his eyes, he
then thus began:—

"My friend—"

The king took a spoonful of punch.

"My friend," commenced the king; "for,
as you are my guest, you must be my friend.
I was the favourite son of the good King
Howell, who was, in his day, one of the
Knights of the Round Table of King Arthur
of England. My father was King of Armorica,
and one of the best men that ever lived; but
the misfortune of all his children was, that
he had a great deal too many of them: some
good, some bad, some saints, some sinners,
more sinners than saints. There were—I may
as well tell you their names—Rigual, Rioval,
Jean Reith, Jona, Leonora, Pat-Ubrual,
Waroc, Budie, Soene, MacLaw, that's-myself,
and the worst of us all, Canao."

"Canao! whew! " cried Columbanus,
"is that the thief with the black hair, and a
bushy beard as red as fire?"

"That is the identical chap," said King
MacLaw, with a deep sigh. "Now, my
father left us all quite enough to live on, if
each would be contented with his share.
But, wirrah! strue! such was not the case.
That thief of the world, Canao, murdered
first our eldest brother, King Rigual, and,
taking possession of his estates, forced his
nephew, Jubual, to fly for his life, and then
compelled his brother's widow to marry him."

"Oh! the monster!" shrieked the saint.
"To marry his own brother's widow! Why,
he must be worse than a Turk, or any other
heathen."

"And so he is," replied King MacLaw;
"but I have not told you the worst about
him yet."

"Howld your whisht," said Columbanus,
"he could not do worse than marry his
brother's wife."

"Couldn't he, indeed! " said the king.
"It shows your own goodness to say so, and
that you don't know what wickedness is."

"Don't I enogh! " answered Columbanus.
"I am a bishop, and I have heard confessions
in my time, and I ought to know a great deal
of wickedness."

"And are you a bishop?" asked King
MacLaw.

"To be sure I am," said the saint.

"A real Christian bishop, is it? " asked
MacLaw.

"Yes, a real Christian bishop to the backbone
Look at my ring," said the saint.