moved his hand at the same time as well as he was able, and, having thus signified to them his holy benediction, he immediately breathed his last. His face still remained ruddy and brightened in a wonderful way from the heavenly vision: so that he had the appearance not so much of one dead as of one that sleepeth.’[281] ‘In the meantime,’ as both biographers inform us, ‘after the departure of his saintly soul, the matin hymns being finished, his sacred body was carried, the brethren chanting psalms, from the church to his cell, where his obsequies were celebrated with all due honour for three days and as many nights; and when these praises of God were finished, his holy body, wrapped in fine clean linen cloths’ and, Adamnan adds, placed in a coffin, or tomb,[282] prepared for it, was buried with all due veneration. The stone which St. Columba had used as a pillow was placed, as a kind of monument, at his grave, where it still stood in Adamnan’s day. His obsequies, which lasted three days and nights, were confined to the inhabitants of the island alone; for there arose a storm of wind without rain, which blew so violently during the whole time that no one could cross the sound in his boat;[283] but immediately after the interment the wind ceased and the storm was quelled, so that the whole sea became calm. [Sidenote: Character of St. Columba.] Columba died on Sunday morning the 9th of June in the year 597,[284] and left behind him an imperishable memory in the affections and veneration of the people whom he first brought over to the Christian faith. It is unfortunately the fate of all such men who stand out prominently from among their fellows and put their stamp upon the age in which they lived, that, as the true character of their sayings and doings fades from men’s minds, they become more and more the subject of spurious traditions, and the popular mind invests them with attributes to which they have no claim. When these loose popular traditions and conceptions are collected and become imbedded in a systematic biography, the evil becomes irreparable, and it is no longer possible to separate in popular estimation the true from the spurious. This has been peculiarly the case with Columba, and has led to a very false estimate of his character. It has been thus drawn by a great writer, in language at least of much eloquence:—‘He was vindictive, passionate, bold, a man of strife, born a soldier rather than a monk, and known, praised and blamed as a soldier—so that even in his lifetime he was invoked in fight; and continued a soldier, _insulanus miles_, even upon the island rock from which he rushed forth to preach, convert, enlighten, reconcile and reprimand both princes and nations, men and women, laymen and clerks. He was at the same time full of contradictions and contrasts—at once tender and irritable, rude and courteous, ironical and compassionate, caressing and imperious, grateful and revengeful—led by pity as well as by wrath,