servant.'

They also tell of him (and this is fact and history) how he left his
monastery of Derm Each, 'the field of oaks,' which we call Derry, and
went away at the risk of his life to preach to the wild Picts of
Galloway, and founded the great monastery of Iona, and that succession of
abbots from whom Christianity spread over the south of Scotland and north
of England, under his great successor Aidan.

Aidan has his myths likewise. They tell of him how he stilled the sea-
waves with holy oil; how he turned back on Penda and his Saxons the
flames with which the heathen king was trying to burn down Bamborough
walls. But they tell, too (and Bede had heard it from those who had
known Aidan in the flesh) of 'his love of peace and charity, his purity
and humility, his mind superior to avarice or pride, his authority,
becoming a minister of Christ, in reproving the haughty and powerful, and
his tenderness in relieving the afflicted, and defending the poor.' Who,
save one who rejoiceth in evil, instead of rejoicing in the truth, will
care to fix his eyes for a moment upon the fairy tales which surround
such a story, as long as there shines out from among them clear and pure,
in spite of all doctrinal errors, the grace of God, the likeness of Jesus
Christ our Lord?

Let us look next at the priest as Tribune of the people, supported
usually by the invisible, but most potent presence of the saint, whose
relics he kept. One may see that side of his power in Raphael's immortal
design of Attila's meeting with the Pope at the gates of Rome, and
recoiling as he sees St. Peter and St. Paul floating terrible and
threatening above the Holy City. Is it a myth, a falsehood? Not
altogether. Such a man as Attila probably would have seen them, with his
strong savage imagination, as incapable as that of a child from
distinguishing between dreams and facts, between the subjective and the
objective world. And it was on the whole well for him and for mankind,
that he should think that he saw them, and tremble before the spiritual
and the invisible; confessing a higher law than that of his own ambition
and self-will; a higher power than that of his brute Tartar hordes.

Raphael's design is but a famous instance of an influence which wrought
through the length and breadth of the down-trodden and dying Roman
Empire, through the four fearful centuries which followed the battle of
Adrianople. The wild licence, the boyish audacity, of t