place Canao has sent us word they will be
married to the giants this very evening.
Canao asked for a truce to-day from twelve
to four o'clock. It was to send me word the
marriages were to take place at seven o'clock
to the minute, and to invite myself and my
daughters' accepted lovers to the wedding.
And now, bishop, I ask you if you can wonder
that my heart is full of grief and sorrow.
All my lovely daughters will lose the fine
husbands they preferred, and I was about to
give them. That is a bad look out for them,
whilst it is much worse so far as I am
concerned; for I have the prospect before me
that twelvemonths shall not have passed away
until I am the grandfather to a race of giants
who will never be baptised as Christians, but,
like their huge fathers, will live Pagans and
die sinners. King Childebert, my bonchal,
give me the tumbler. If it was not for the
brandy-punch I would die of grief, and be
buried in earnest, and no longer able to hear
a Bailieborough bishop singing over my tombstone,
as he once did in Nantes, a De profundis
for the repose of my soul!

CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

No sooner had King MacLaw finished his
story than Bishop Columbanus stood bolt
upright, and placing his hands behind his
back, he walked up and down the room a
hundred times, at the least, considering all
the time what was best for him to say or do,
that might afford consolation to the afflicted
father of six beautiful young girls who had
been torn away from the suitors they
preferred, and were about to be united in
marriage with six ill-looking, overgrown,
sweltering, ill-behaved, badly conducted Pagan
giants.

At last the bishop stopped walking, and
taking a chair he sat down by the side of
King MacLaw, and said:

"Why don't you kill these six plundering
giants, and your brother Canao into the
bargain?"

"Because I'm not able," answered King
MacLaw.

"Have you tried?"

"I have."

"And what came of it?"

"I'll tell you," said King MacLaw. "Did
your lordship ever give a live pig a kick in
the ham?"

"Never," said the bishop.

"Then take my advice," said the king,
"and never try to do it, or you will knock
your toes into simthereens. Well, my trying
to kill these six Pagan giants and my brother
Canao along with them, is someting like a
Christian trying to hurt a full-grown pig by
kicking it. I could do them no harm, whilst I
have injured my self very considerably. I
might as well be throwing snow-balls at them
as seeking to kill them with stones and
arrows. Their skin is as hard as flint, and
their hands as strong as iron"

"And what do you intend to do now ?"
asked the bishop.

"I know no more," said King MacLaw,
"than the ancient hero, Pompey, when he
was smashed, horse, foot, and dragoons at the
battle of Pharsalia. I really do not see what
is left for me to do, unless it be, like him, to
fly to Egypt, or to take to the drinking."

"Phew! " said the saint. "Don't be so
downhearted as all that comes to. While
there is life there is hope: all is not lost that is
in danger; and faint heart never won fair lady."

"True for you," said the king.

"Your brother, Count Canao, has sent you
and your six intended sons-in-law an invitation
to the wedding of the six giants with
your own six daughters, and their cheeks
like red apples, and eyes black as sloes."

"He has, the villain."

"And have you sent him an answer?"

"Me! is it me send him an answer? The
thief of the world! I wouldn't cough in the
same field with him."

"Well, now, King MacLaw, be bid by me.
Send him an answer. Say you and these six
fine young men forenenst me will be with
him half an hour before the time appointed
for the marriage of your daughters."

"Are you in earnest when you say that to
me?" said the king, as he laid down his
tumbler, and looked straight in the face of
the bishop.

"I am in downright earnest," answered
Columbanus. "Just do as I bid you, and by
the virtue of my mitre you won't be sorry
for it."

"I never knew a good man yet who was
saucy to a bishop," said King MacLaw. "I'll
do everything you tell me."

"My blessing on you and the likes of you,"
said Columbanus. "There, now, send a
messenger this minute to your brother. Then
do you and these six young gentlemen be off,
and array yourselves in your best clothes,
just as you and they would do, if they were
going to be married to your six daughters
with the rosy cheeks and the black eyes. But,
mind, let every man of them bring his sword,
and his bow and arrows with him. Mind,
now, and don't let them forget the bows and
arrows for a reason I have. And now, King
MacLaw, let me have a room to myself. I
want to shave and wash, and tidy myself up
as well as I can, for I wish to look as decent
and respectable as I really am—for I will go
along with you. But I will go, not like a
poor pilgrim as you see me now, but with my
  crook in my hand, and my mitre on my head,
like a real bishop."

As the clock struck six in King MacLaw's
castle the gate was opened, and out marched,
two and two, the king, the bishop, and the
six intended sons-in-law, and all of them
dressed as grand as play-actors. King MacLaw
had a gold crown on his head, and
walked by the side of the bishop, who wore
a silver mitre. The king and the bishop