the sainted statesman who decreed the separation of the
two populations, so far as claims to taxation could be
preferred, preserved, for ages, the better and far more
profitable alliance, of an ancient friendship, unbroken
by a single national quarrel during a thousand years.

A few words more on the death and character of this
celebrated man, whom we are now to part with at the close
of the sixth, as we parted from Patrick at the close of
the fifth century. His day of departure came in 596.
Death found him at the ripe age of almost fourscore,
_stylus_ in hand, toiling cheerfully over the vellum
page. It was the last night of the week when the
presentiment of his end came strongly upon him. "This
day," he said to his disciple and successor, Dermid, "is
called the day of rest, and such it will be for me, for
it will finish my labours." Laying down the manuscript,
he added, "let Baithen finish the rest." Just after
Matins, on the Sunday morning, he peacefully passed away
from the midst of his brethren.

Of his tenderness, as well as energy of character,
tradition, and his biographers have recorded many instances.
Among others, his habit of ascending an eminence every
evening at sunset, to look over towards the coast of his
native land. The spot is called by the islanders to this
day, "the place of the back turned upon Ireland." The
fishermen of the Hebrides long believed they could see
their saint flitting over the waves after every new storm,
counting the islands to see if any of them had foundered.