"Give us the hand," said the king. "And
now your blessing. Boys, jewel! all down
on your knees till we get his lordship's
blessing."

"There, it's for you," said the saint, blessing
them all as they knelt before him.
"And now get up, King MacLaw, take
another drop of the punch, and then go on
with your story. I am in a hurry for you to
be at an end of it, for a reason I have."

King MacLaw was so eager to do everything
a bishop desired, that he never let the
tumbler from his lips until he had swallowed
every drop in it.

"Here," said the king, turning to one of
the fine, handsome, tall young men who were
sitting near him. " Here, Childebert, my
bonchal, make me another tumbler of
brandy-punch—but mind you don't make it
too strong: let it be, at the least, half-water
—and remember three lumps of sugar—no
more, nor no less."

"Go on with your story," said the saint.

"Well, as I was telling your lordship,"
said the king to Columbanus, "that villain
of a brother of mine, the red-haired Canao,
not content with marrying his brother's
widow, next contrived the murder of two
other brothers, Budie and Waroc; and,
hearing that I had gone on my Easter duty
to the good bishop of Nantes, he had me
followed to that place by a whole troop of
assassins. They got into the bishop's house.
They were in the next room to me. I heard
them sharpening their swords, and I had not
one fighting friend to stand by me. The
house was surrounded, and blockaded by
villains thirsting for my  blood, and—I gave
myself up for lost."

''And how in the world did you escape?"
asked Columbanus.

"Only listen to me," said the king. "The
Bishop of Nantes knowing the room I was in
—his own sitting-room—came by a secret
passage from the church into it, brought me
out of it into the church, where he had his
own tomb prepared; and, making me descend
into it, he closed it up, and, then conducting
the soldiers of Canao into the church, he
pointed out the tomb to them, and said to
them: "You seek for MacLaw. He is in that
tomb. He is, therefore, no longer to be
counted as amongst the living, but the dead.
There he is inhumed; there he is entombed;
and of that fact I pledge you my word as a
bishop. Say then to Canao you have seen
the tomb in which all that remains of his
brother MacLaw is to be found. With this
declaration the assassins were content, with
such intelligence they returned to Canao.
And so the Bishop of Nantes saved my life."

"And the Bishop of Nantes is the Right
Reverend Felix MacQuaide," remarked
Columbanus, " and Bishop Felix is a County
Cavan man. None but a Bailieborough boy
would ever have the wit to think of such a
device as that. Here is long life and a happy
death to my fellow countryman, Felix. He
is a credit to old Ireland, at all events."

"By Dad he is," said the king. "He
saved me from death by burying me alive.
But now for the worst part of my story."

"What! Worse than what you have been
telling me? " said the saint, starting up from
the table.

"Ay, a hundred times worse," answered
the king.

"Oh! there is no standing this," cried the
saint. "Will you ever finish telling me your
misfortunes; so that I may set about putting
an end to them?"

"Sit down again, if you please," said the
king, "and just hearken to what I am going
now to tell you. I am the father of a family,
—a family of six daughters. O, such lovely
daughters! All King Howell's—my father's
descendants were remarkable for having
either red or black hair; and all my daughters
have——"

"Not red hair, I hope? " said the saint;
"because if they have, I had much rather not
be introduced to them."

"No—but the likeness that my daughters
have to my father's family is shown in the
redness of their cheeks and the blackness of
their eyes."

"O, that makes them interesting. I hope
that villain of a brother of yours has not tried
to murder them also?"

"He has tried to do worse than murder
them," said the king.

"What could be worse than murdering
them? " said the saint.

"Just listen to me," said the king. "My
six lovely daughters, with cheeks as red as
apples, and eyes as black as sloes, were cried
up all over Europe for their beauty. I was
nearly eaten out of house and home with the
troops of kings, and princes, dukes, counts,
esquires, and marquises, coming to court
them. I bid them take their choice, and
they selected those six young gentlemen that
are now sitting at the table with us. The
eldest of my darling girls was to be married
to that strapping fellow who is now making
a tumbler of brandy-punch for me. That is
Childebert, King of France, and it is in his
Court my nephew, Jubual, is preserved from
the dagger of his uncle, Canao. Well—that
same uncle—my wicked brother Canao—
hearing that my six lovely daughters were
about being so well and respectably married,
sends to Africa for six giants—horrid monsters
of overgrown atrocity—eight feet high
every man of them—places them in that
castle on the hill yonder, where they have
been playing the Mischief with the whole
country; and to sum up all, no longer ago
than the night before last, those six giants
watched for my daughters, and whilst the
innocent ducks of diamonds were bathing
together in the Rance, ran away clean and
clever with every one of them, took them to
that castle, and—there they are! From that