Iona was at times so sacred a place, with its scores of monasteries and nunneries, with its small forest of crosses, and with architecture that enthralled by its beauty, that it was for centuries a spot to which pilgrims came from all lands, and in its holy soil kings and nobles longed to be buried; yet it was not free from the robber pagan and the bloody spoiler. The North Sea rovers, from Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, descended in the eighth century to plunder, to burn, and to kill. For two hundred years Iona lay desolate, until Queen Margaret restored the desecrated monastery, building the chapel over the site of St. Columba’s grave. Later came the Benedictine monks, who expelled or absorbed the Celtic community. Intermittently the island was the seat of the bishopric of the Western Isles, but at the Reformation the monastic buildings were dismantled by order of the legal authorities. When Dr. Johnson visited Iona in 1773, only two persons on the island could speak English. None could read or write. Of Iona’s political fortunes the story is brief, the most interesting point to an American being that, when oppression and the severe conditions made life here undesirable or scarcely possible, the people emigrated. From the hardy race, inhabiting this and other of the Western Isles, the United States received a noble contingent, to enrich its grand composite of humanity. We spent some time in the cemetery called “the Burial Place of Kings,” which is reputed to contain the dust of forty-eight Scottish, four Irish, and eight Danish and Norwegian monarchs, besides many monumental stones. The number of crosses set up on Iona was nearly equal to that of the days of the year. These were standing, up to Reformation times, when most of them were thrown into the sea by order of the Synod of Argyl. Yet a few still remain. The finest are the Maclean’s cross and St. Martin’s cross, both being almost perfect in form, despite centuries of weathering. Both are richly carved with runic inscriptions, emblematic devices, and fanciful scroll-work. [Illustration: THE KINGS’ GRAVES, IONA] It was certainly a brain stimulant and a heart-warmer to ramble among these ruins. Imagination re-created the scenes in those ancient days when the light of the gospel was brought by a saintly man filled with the spirit of Jesus. We realized, in measure at least, how great was his work and how far-reaching was his influence in winning men to Christ, before Latin and Germanic disputes for mastery had divided the Christian Church. Columba’s coming quickly changed the landscape of pagan Scotland. First in the cities and then in almost every village, the cross, symbol of the sacrificial death of Him who came to give life more abundantly, arose, first in wood and then in enduring stone. The savage people, whose passions and appetites had so closely allied them to the brutes, were transformed and uplifted.