There is one rather significant feature in all the missionary work of the Celtic saints which contrasts sharply with that of our modern emissaries into “foreign parts.” What we do is to collect moneys and start a missioner, who, wherever he goes, draws for his supplies on the mother-country, and depends, and his entire mission depends, on the charity of those at home. The Celtic method was absolutely the reverse. The missioner went among strange people, and threw himself on their hospitality. That is just one of the great virtues of a savage race, and these Celtic saints caught at the one noble trait in the characters of the half-barbarians among whom they went, and worked upon that and from that point. The chiefs and kings felt themselves bound in hospitality to maintain them, to protect them, and to give them settlements. How strongly this feeling operated may be judged by an instance in the life of S. Patrick, who went to Laogaire, the Irish king, without any backing up from behind and without presents. When Laogaire refused Patrick something he wanted, the apostle and his little band refused to eat. The king was so alarmed lest they should be starved to death, and it be imputed to him as due to his niggardliness, that he gave way, and let Patrick have what he desired. But this system worked on the material interests of the chiefs. They argued in their calculating way, “Here are all these missionaries. We have been feeding them, giving them land and cattle; it is a drain on our resources. We must really get something out of them in return.” And so, out of that frugal mind which was not the exclusive prerogative of Mrs. Gilpin, they accepted the gospel--at least, the ministrations of the saints--as a return for what they had themselves granted them: acres and cows. There is a story in the life of S. Bridget that illustrates this somewhat sordid view taken of their dealings with the saints. Bridget’s father had been lent a sword by King Illand, son of Dunlaing of Leinster. He asked his daughter to negotiate with the king that this sword should become his personal property. She agreed. At the same time one of Illand’s men threw himself upon her, and begged her to put him into her tribe. So she asked the king for two things: the man and the sword. “Humph!” said he. “What am I to have in return?” “I will obtain for you eternal life, for one thing, and for the other the assurance that the crown shall remain to your sons.” “As to eternal life,” replied the practical and sceptical king, “I have never seen it, and so do not know what it is worth; as to the boys, if they are worth their salt, they will maintain their own rights. Give me victory over those Ulster rascals, and you shall have my man and the sword.” So Bridget agreed to this.