and the day after the burial the malicious scholars so far prevailed upon St. Servan that he ordered Kentigern, upon his obedience, to raise him from the dead, which seems to have been thought not an unreasonable exercise for one who was preparing to graduate as a saint. The cook came out of his grave at the call, and edified all the convent by an account of what he had seen in the other world. Kentigern, however, who was now grown up, thought it time to depart from a place where his presence excited so many evil feelings; and, knowing by revelation that this intention was conformable to the will of Providence, he stole away. The way which he took brought him to the river Mallena. A high tide had caused the stream to overflow, so that it would have been impassable, if that same Power who opened a way through the Red Sea for the Children of Israel had not made the waters retire to the right and left, and leave a dry path for him. Presently afterwards he crossed a little salt-water inlot by a bridge; but no sooner was he over than the waters flowed in in such abundance as to destroy that passage for evermore, and the Mallena was forced out of its own channel into that of the Leden. The man of God, proceeding on his appointed way, took up his abode at Glasgow, and there obtained such a reputation for his learning and holiness of life that in the twenty-fifth year of his age he was consecrated to the episcopal office by an Irish bishop, according to the usage of the British and Scottish Christians of those days. His diocese included the whole Cumbrian Kingdom, which extended from the Roman Wall to the Firth of Forth, and from sea to sea; and his cathedral was in the city of Glasgow. Applying himself forthwith to his episcopal duties, we are told that he converted the unbaptised, brought back heretics and relapsed heathens to the faith, destroyed idols, built churches, and determined the boundaries of parishes, &c. It was with a feeling of reluctance that we turned our back upon the beautiful Derwent Water, consoling ourselves at the same time with the prospect of a future visit to its lovely scenery, which, thanks to the useful although unromantic railway, we could easily reach from the place of our residence. After the refreshment of an excellent sandwich and a glass of bitter ale, we soon made our way for the platform; and, the usual unintelligible announcement of the name of the station being vociferated, the doors slammed, and the whistle blown, we are fairly started once more for the Land o' Cakes. A short run brings us to Penrith, where there is a fair station, with the old castle close at hand, and also affording to the angler a good fishing station. Another slam and a whistle, after a short detention, and away we go, as smooth as greased lightning, on the Caledonian line, before long reach Carlisle, and in half-an-hour more (by fast train) we reach a branch-line, which at the end of four miles sets us down at our destination, brought home and interred at the foot of the pillar where he used to sit as a schoolboy; and many more of the like could be found by any one interested in the search. To go back to the old cuckoo scandal: In Cumberland and Westmoreland an April fool is an "April gowk," and the local proverb for the 1st of April is "Hunt the gowk another mile." There are also " May goslings" or "geslings" for the 1st of May, but for that day only. If you try to make a May gosling on any other, your answer will, or ought to be "May Day is come and gone, Thou art the gosling, and I'se none." But the lake visitor is not in search of fun or history; his object is the picturesque and the beautiful, and in that Borrowdale and the Vale of Keswick are nowhere to be surpassed. St. Herbert, the friend of the great St. Cuthbert, is the notability of the district; but St. Kentigern, or St. Mungo was. To St. Kentigern attach all the legends of saintship forgotten now by modern profane dwellers in the region of his sanctity, but still preserved in old records for the benefit of the curious and the camel-gulpers. Crosthwaite Church, the parish church of Keswick, is dedicated to St. Kentigern, and his festival used to be religiously kept on the 13th January. Thus runs the legend concerning him: He came of a good family, for we have authority that the "Prince of Darkness is a gentleman," and Kentigern, like Merlin, was a son of the Devil. His mother's family was also respectable, she being the daughter of King Lot of Lowthian and Orkenay (a personage well known in the annals of the "Round Table "), by Anna, daughter of Uther Pendragon, and half-sister of King Arthur. A more illustrious stock could hardly be found in chivalrous genealogy. The time of his birth has been fixed in the year 514, and his nativity, "admirable for the strangeness of it," says Father Cressy, has been celebrated by many ancient writers. A remarkable personage was at the time dwelling in a monastery at Collenros-Servan was his name. At the hour when the young princess was delivered on the beach, this holy personage heard the song of the angels rejoicing in the air, and hereby understood what had happened. So he hastened to the seaside, and, finding there the mother and the new-born babe, saluted the infant with these words, "Blessed art thou, my beloved, who comest in the name of the Lord." Without delay he took them home to his convent, and baptised them both, naming the boy Kientiern, which is, being interpreted, Chief Lord, and which by a slight alteration has become Kentigern. In the age to which this legend relates, and in that also in which it was written, monasteries were the only schools. His fellow-scholars seeing that Kentigern was a favourite, hated him for that reason, and endeavoured by many malicious tricks to bring him into disgrace. St. Servan had a tame robbin, whose head the young villains one day twisted off, and accused Kentigern of having done it. To prove his innocence, he made a cross upon the head and put it on again, and the bird was nothing the worse for what it had undergone. Other attempts were made to bring shame upon him. The cook of the convent died and was buried, and the day after the burial the malicious scholars so far prevailed upon St. Servan that he ordered Kentigern, upon his obedience, to raise him from the dead, which seems to have been thought not an unreasonable exercise for one who was preparing to graduate as a saint. The cook came out of his grave at the call, and edified all the convent by an account of what he had seen in the other world. Kentigern, however, who was now grown up, thought it time to depart from a place where his presence excited so many evil feelings; and, knowing by revelation that this intention was conformable to the will of Providence, he stole away. The way which he took brought him to the river Mallena. A high tide had caused the stream to overflow, so that it would have been impassable, if that same Power who opened a way through the Red Sea for the Children of Israel had not made the waters retire to the right and left, and leave a dry path for him. Presently afterwards he crossed a little salt-water inlot by a bridge; but no sooner was he over than the waters flowed in in such abundance as to destroy that passage for evermore, and the Mallena was forced out of its own channel into that of the Leden. The man of God, proceeding on his appointed way, took up his abode at Glasgow, and there obtained such a reputation for his learning and holiness of life that in the twenty-fifth year of his age he was consecrated to the episcopal office by an Irish bishop, according to the usage of the British and Scottish Christians of those days. His diocese included the whole Cumbrian Kingdom, which extended from the Roman Wall to the Firth of Forth, and from sea to sea; and his cathedral was in the city of Glasgow. Applying himself forthwith to his episcopal duties, we are told that he converted the unbaptised, brought back heretics and relapsed heathens to the faith, destroyed idols, built churches, and determined the boundaries of parishes, &c. It was with a feeling of reluctance that we turned our back upon the beautiful Derwent Water, consoling ourselves at the same time with the prospect of a future visit to its lovely scenery, which, thanks to the useful although unromantic railway, we could easily reach from the place of our residence. After the refreshment of an excellent sandwich and a glass of bitter ale, we soon made our way for the platform; and, the usual unintelligible announcement of the name of the station being vociferated, the doors slammed, and the whistle blown, we are fairly started once more for the Land o' Cakes. A short run brings us to Penrith, where there is a fair station, with the old castle close at hand, and also affording to the angler a good fishing station. Another slam and a whistle, after a short detention, and away we go, as smooth as greased lightning, on the Caledonian line, before long reach Carlisle, and in half-an-hour more (by fast train) we reach a branch-line, which at the end of four miles sets us down at our destination, |