ered, of the many important pieces
of information that blessed Saint and great man Saint Patrick picked up
in his latter travels. Some say that he taught the Irish to read and
write. Certain, at all events, it is that he introduced that fine and
glorious weapon, the shillelagh, among them; and, moreover, taught them
the use of it, for which his memory is ever to be held in due reverence,
not to speak of many other reasons why he should be loved and admired by
all the sons of Erin.

At length, Saint Patrick, feeling that his latter days were approaching,
got back safe to Old Ireland, there firmly purposed to leave his bones.
The country, at that time there can be no manner of doubt about it, was
overrun with serpents, big and little, in great numbers, whose bite was
so venomous, that, if a man got stung by one of them, he in a minute or
less swelled up into a mountain. So the people came to Saint Patrick,--
for to whom else should they go, seeing that, of course, he was one of
the wisest men in the kingdom?--and they told him that it was their firm
belief that the whole land, from north to south, would be depopulated
before long if the snakes were not driven out of it. So, just then
thinking of something else, he told them to take their shillelaghs and
to knock the snakes on the head, and to drive them into the sea, he
himself setting the example; and right lustily he laid about him, as he
was wont to do in his early days, among Pagan hosts, or wild beasts, or
giants, or ogres.

Suddenly, as he was attacking a monstrous serpent wriggling about before
him, he recollected the way in which he had seen the snakes got rid of
in Africa. So, ordering all the fish-hooks to be procured throughout
Ireland to be brought to him, he had them tied on to the tails of all
the serpents to be found. Instantly the serpents were turned into
hoops, and calling his faithful followers, he showed them how to ring
them all on their shillelaghs. This done, staggering away with them at
their backs, all the serpents, and snakes, and vipers, were carried off
to the sea, into which they were thrown and drowned, and from that day
to this not one has ever ventured to come back to the shores of Old
Ireland, and none ever will, that we may be assured.

After this great and important achievement, the pious Saint wished to
retire altogether from public life. So he had a hermitage cut for
himself out of a big grey moss-overgrown rock, on an island