Our Little Irish Cousin

Mrs. O'Neil stopped to pat Norah's head, which was in her apron. The child was crying softly.

"There, there, those hard days are over now, my child," said her mother, tenderly. "The sky is brighter for Ireland than it has been these many years. You must not let this fine lady see you cry. Enough water has fallen outside to-day without our adding to the shower."

Norah began to laugh, while she wiped away the tears with her mother's apron.

The visitors once more rose to go. At the same time one of the gentlemen stepped to Mrs. O'Neil's side and said in a low tone, "We would not think of offering pay for your kindness to us this afternoon, but it will give me a great deal of pleasure if you will take this and buy a little kid with it for Norah."

He pressed some money into the good woman's hands.

"But we have one goat now, as you must have seen," she said.

"Two goats will give the children twice as much milk as one," he answered, with a laugh. "And, besides, I want Norah to have the new goat for her very own."

Mrs. O'Neil could not refuse such a kind offer. "Thank ye entirely, and may Hiven send its blessing on ye all."

By this time the driver had brought the horse and the jaunting-car from the little shed, and the party drove off in the direction of Killarney.

CHAPTER III

ST. PATRICK

"SURE and it's Father Tom himself," said Norah's mother. She was in the midst of the family washing. Katie was rocking baby Patsy, and Norah was brushing up the rough mud floor. Every one stopped work at once and ran out of the cabin, the mother wiping her hands on her apron, and Norah lifting Patsy and carrying him along in her strong young arms.

The whole village had by this time turned out into the lane and gathered around the kind fat priest, who had a smile for each and all.

There were old people hobbling along with the help of sticks, men who had stopped work for the sake of a blessing from the priest, mothers with babies in their arms, and children big and little.

It was a glad day when Father Tom came to the village to see how all were getting along. There were so few people that the village had no church of its own. They went four miles every Sunday to the nearest service. Almost every one had to walk, for there were only two or three donkeys and one or two rough carts in the whole place. A visit from the priest was a great honour, a very great honour. The children knelt in his pathway that he might lay his hands on them and bless them. The men took off their hats and bowed their heads low as he passed by. The old women made as good curtsys as their stiff backs would let them.

Norah put little Patsy down on the ground, whispering, "Patsy, dear, touch the good man's robe with your little hands. It will make ye a better boy."

Father Tom must have heard the whisper. He turned around and placed his hands on the baby's curly head. Then he made a short prayer and blessed him.

"I will take a sup of tea with you, Mrs. O'Neil," he said to Norah's mother. "I am quite tired, for I have walked all the way from my home this morning."

Mrs. O'Neil was much pleased. She hurried home, while the priest and children followed her more slowly.

As she hung the kettle over the fire and set the table for the priest's lunch, he gathered the children around him and told them stories of St. Patrick, the dearest of all saints to the Irish people.

It was a long, long time ago that the King of Ireland was holding a festival in the Hall of Tara.

"Put out all the fires," he had commanded his people. "Let no light be seen till a blaze bursts forth from the hill of Tara."

Not one of his subjects would have dared to disobey the king's command.

You may judge, therefore, how surprised he was when he looked out into the darkness and saw a light. It grew stronger and stronger every moment. A great fire was blazing near by on the top of a hill!

Who could have dared to disobey the king? What was the meaning of the fire? The Druid priest for whom the king sent in haste said:

"O king, if that fire is not put out to-night, it will never die in this country."

Now it happened that the festival which the king and his people were celebrating was held on the night before Easter Sunday. Few people of Erin had at that time heard of Easter Sunday. They knew nothing of the life of the Christ Child. They were Druids, and had a strange belief of their own.

Their chief priests dwelt in the dark forests of oak-trees, and taught their followers to worship fire as the symbol of the sun.

But a new teacher had come into their country. He had a message to the people. He wished to tell them of the Christian religion and of Jesus, who had lived and suffered and died to help all mankind.

The name of the new teacher was Patrick, and Scotland was his early home. When he was sixteen years old, he was surprised by a band of robbers. They made him their prisoner and took him with them to Ireland.

After he had been with them six months, he managed to get free and went back to Scotland.

But he was carried off a second time, and again he escaped. After he reached his own home once more, he said to himself, "I should like to help the people of Ireland. I should like to tell them of Jesus and his religion."

He began to study and prepare himself for teaching. At last he was made a bishop.

After many years, he was able to go back to Ireland. It was what he had long wished to do.

It was the eve of Easter Sunday when he lighted that great fire on the hilltop and surprised the king by his daring.

"I will send for the man who kindled that fire. Let him come before me at once," commanded the king.

Patrick was brought in haste, but he was not frightened in the least.

When the king and the princes, the nobles and the Druid priests were gathered together, he told them he had come to Erin to put out the fires of the Druids. He wished to stop the making of the pagan sacrifices in which the people then believed. He had brought something better in their place. It was the Christian religion.

What do you suppose the king replied?

He was very angry, of course. But still he asked Patrick to meet the wise men of the country the next day and talk the matter over. Then he could explain his belief to them.

On the next day he did meet them. He talked so well and so wisely that many of the listeners thought he knew a great deal more than they did. They became Christians then and there.

The king then gave Patrick the right to preach all over Ireland. As he went from place to place, he spoke so well that all those who listened to him felt his great power.

In a short time the whole of the people became Christians, and the strange worship of the Druids came to an end.

Father Tom told Norah and her sister many wonderful stories of the life of St. Patrick. He told of a spring of water he had visited. This spring worked miracles.

It happened that St. Patrick and St. Bridget were one day taking a walk. She said she was thirsty. St. Patrick struck the ground with his staff. Water instantly began to bubble up through the earth, and a spring has been there ever since.

Father Tom went on to tell of strange wriggling things called snakes. He had seen them in other countries. They were something like big worms, and were of different colours. The bite of some of them was poisonous.

"But we have none of them in our own beautiful Ireland," he said. "You may thank the blessed St. Patrick for sending them out of this country."

Norah and Katie both shivered when they thought of the snakes. How good St. Patrick was to drive the horrid creatures out of Ireland!

"There is a grand church in the city of Dublin called St. Patrick's Cathedral. When you grow up, Norah, you must surely visit it," said the kind priest, as he finished his story-telling. "It stands on the very spot where St. Patrick himself once built a church. It is a fine building, and its spire reaches higher up toward heaven than anything you have ever seen made by men.

"But, my dear little children, your mother has prepared me a nice luncheon. I must eat it, and then visit poor Widow McGee, who is very ill."