Now, very naturally, and by an easy transition, the early Celtic saints carried their legal ideas into their religion, and just as when S. Patrick, wanting something from King Lear, fasted against him till he obtained it, so did the followers of Patrick, when they desired something of God for themselves or for others, proceed against Him by the legal method of levying a distress. This is frankly admitted in an odd story in the _Book of Lismore_. Three clerks agreed together that they would each recite a certain number of psalms daily, and that should one die the other two would share his psalms between them. All went smoothly enough for a while. Then one died, whereupon the survivors divided his portion of the Psalter between them. But soon after a second died, whereat the third found himself saddled with the sets of psalms that appertained to both the others. He was very angry. He thought the Almighty had dealt unfairly by him in letting the other two off so lightly and overburdening him, and in a fit of spleen and resentment _he fasted against Him_. But this view of asceticism was held only at the outset, and rapidly sounder ideas gained the mastery, and we find self-denial in the saints assume quite another complexion. An instance in point is in the life of S. Columba. One day he saw a poor widow gathering stinging-nettles, and he asked her why she did it. "For the pot," said she; "I have no other food." The good old man was troubled. He went back to the monastery and said to the cook, "I will eat nettles only now." When this had gone on for some time, his disciple who cooked the nettles for him saw that he was falling away in flesh, so he took a hollow elder-stick, put butter into the tube, and by this means enriched the dish. S. Columba said, "The nettles do not taste as before. They have a richer flavour. What have you done to them?" "Master dear," answered his disciple, "I have put nothing into the pot but this stick, wherewith I stirred its contents." Nor were they pedantic in observance of rule. Travellers came to S. Cronan, and he had meat and ale set on the board, and he himself and his monks sat down to make merry with them. "Humph!" said a formalist among them, "at this rate I do not see much prospect of matins being said." "My friend," answered Cronan, "in receiving strangers we receive Christ; as to the matins, the angels will sing them in our room." Finding that some travellers had wandered all night unable to find shelter, "This will never do," said he; "I shall move my quarters to the roadside."