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Tales of the Enchanted Islands of the Atlantic by Thomas Wentworth Higginson
page 71 of 162 (43%)
said, nor trees without fruits, and there were precious stones, and the
island was traversed by a great river. Then they met a man of shining
aspect who told them that they had without knowing it passed a year
already in the island; that they had needed neither food nor sleep. Then
they returned to the Delicious Island, and every one knew where they had
been by the perfume of their garments. This was the story of Berinthus,
and from this time forward nothing could keep Brandan from the purpose of
beholding for himself these blessed islands.

Before carrying out his plans, however, he went, about the year 560, to
visit an abbot named Enda, who lived at Arran, then called Isle of the
Saints, a priest who was supposed to know more than any one concerning the
farther lands of the western sea. He knew, for instance, of the enchanted
island named Hy-Brasail, which could be seen from the coast of Ireland
only once in seven years, and which the priests had vainly tried to
disenchant. Some islands, it was believed, had been already disenchanted
by throwing on them a few sparks of lighted turf; but as Hy-Brasail was
too far for this, there were repeated efforts to disenchant it by shooting
fiery arrows towards it, though this had not yet been successful. Then
Enda could tell of wonderful ways to cross the sea without a boat, how his
sister Fanchea had done it by spreading her own cloak upon the waves, and
how she and three other nuns were borne upon it. She found, however, that
one hem of the cloak sank below the water, because one of her companions
had brought with her, against orders, a brazen vessel from the convent;
but on her throwing it away, the sinking hem rose to the level of the rest
and bore them safely. St. Enda himself had first crossed to Arran on a
large stone which he had ordered his followers to place on the water and
which floated before the wind; and he told of another priest who had
walked on the sea as on a meadow and plucked flowers as he went. Hearing
such tales, how could St. Brandan fear to enter on his voyage?
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