Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1892-04-23

a
I covered the building out of SIGHT. II
uld not take the Saint long to guess
this; but the pity was that no one re-
membered exactly where the church
had stood, and as there was a score Of
tall mounds along the shore, and all of
a height more or less equal, there was
no knowing where to dig. To uncover
them all was a job to last till dooms-
day.
"Blur-an-arers. but it's ruinad ]
ann cued 81, tgran AND the
NisltaShun no further away than to-
mora at 10 a, M" He wrung his
hands; then caught up spade and be-
gan digging away at haphazard, like a
mailman.
They searched all that day, and with
lanterns all the night through; but
came on never a sign Of the missing
church
If it only had spire," they said,
ne might have some chance" But as
far as could be recollected, the build
ing bad only dumpy tower.
1t was at sunrise that st. Piran worn
out and heartsick, spoke from one of
the tall mounds, where be had been
digging for an hour.
My children, he said, and they all
uncovered their heads, "we are going
to be disgraced, this day, an the best
we can do IS to pray that we may bear
1t like men. Let us pray"
He knelt on the great sandhill, and
the men and women around went on
their knees also. And then St. Piran
prayed the famous prayer that has
made his name famous all the world
over.
"Hear US, O. Lord" he SAID, sand be
debonair; for ours is very particular
case. We are not like the men of St.
Neot, or those of St. Udy, who are
bothering Thee with supplications and
prayers every day of the week and
upon the slightest occasion. 1t is
only with great cause that we bring
| ourselves, as now, to trouble Thee.
Therefore, regard us and help us now.
Amen"
There was silence for a moment or
two as he ceased; and then the kneel-
ing parishioners lifted up their eyes
toward the top Of the mound.
st. Piran was nowhere to be seen!
They stared and looked at each
other. a few of the women began to
sob.
"Hullo! Hush a bit, and hearken!"
criend Andrew Penhaligon, suddenly.
A muflled voice was calling as it
were from the bowls of the earth.
Fetch a ladderl7 it said; fetch a
ladder. I've found EN-, sonnies-rve
found 'en!"
They brought a ladder, and set il
against the mound. Three Of the men
climbed up. At the top they dis
co.., red large round hole, from the
top Of which they scraped the sand
away, uncoyering patch of shingle
roof through which St. Piran-whose
weight had increased with age-had
broken AID tumbled into his own
church
Three hours later, when the Vista
rion arrived, it found the parish desert
ed. Every cottage door was fast
closed, nor could any amount of knock
ing elicit an answer. st. Piran's small
hut was empty. A meager breakfast
of herbs was set out on the table, and
a scourge lay somewhat ostentatious-
ly beside the platter Outside the
beach stretched away beside the
breakers, with not human shape in
sight
The visiting saints paced the sand in
some wonder. They were still wonder
ing, when dull, rhythmical sound ar
rested their feet
"What on earth" began st. Neot,
ut sounds" said St. Petroc, who had
been listening for scle moments, with
his head on one side, lit sounds very
much like hymn"
They proceeded few PAGES and the
noise grew louder. 1t led them ut
| length to an enormous mound of sand,
| from the top OF winch the chant was
pouring, as fire from a crater. The
saints set their ears 70 the sandy wall.
They walked round it and listened
again. Finally, St. Petroc knocked,
and shouted loudly.
The chant ceased. For a full min
ute nothing happened; and then st.
Rran's head was thrust cautiously for
ward over the summit.
holy St. Petrocl Is it you after all?
And st. Neot-and st. Enodar. O
glory ber'
"Why, who did you imagine we
were?" St, Petroc asked, still in amaze
ment.
"Why, throat-cutting Danes, to be
sure, by the way you were coming
over the hills when we spied you, three
hours back. And the trouble we've
had to cover up our blessed church out
Of sight of thin marautherin' thieves!
An the intire parish gathered inside
here, an siugin' holy songs in ex-
potassium Of present death. An to
think twas you holy men, all the
while! But why didn't We send word
We was comm, st. Petroc, darlint?
For it's little but sand ye'll find for
breakfast, I'm thinkin'." Arthur
OutHer Couch.
Princes on the Downward Grade.