If S. Piran of Peranzabulo be the same as S. Kieran of Saigir, his bones have been discovered of late years, when the ancient oratory of Peranzabulo, near Padstowe, in Cornwall, was dug out of the sand. In favour of this identification, Colgan points out that S. Piran was commemorated at Padstow on the 5th March, the same day as S. Kieran in Ireland; and John of Tynemouth asserts that S. Kieran did retire from Ireland into Cornwall where he spent the latter part of his life, and died. The Cornish, moreover, change the K. of Irish names into P. Some of the legends related of S. Kieran deserve to be recorded. He is said when a little boy to have been bitterly distressed at seeing a hawk carry off a little bird in its talons. Then he cried to God, and the hawk dropped its prey. One day a king or chief in the neighbourhood carried off one of the nuns of the convent governed by his mother. Kieran pursued him full of wrath, and coming to the castle, bade the chief restore the poor maiden to her cell. "Not unless the cuckoo should rouse me to-morrow morning," answered the chief. Now it was mid-winter. But that night no snow fell round the house where lodged the abbot, and at early dawn a bird perched on the roof under the window of the chief, and began to call "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!" Then the ravisher, in alarm, started from his bed, and restored the nun to her convent. On an autumn day, Kieran noticed a magnificent bank of blackberries, so large and ripe, that he thought it a sad pity the winter should come and destroy them. Therefore he cast a cloak over the bramble. Now it fell out that the next ensuing April, Ethnea Vacha the wife of king Ængus was ill, and felt a craving for blackberries. She was then, with her husband, the guest of Concraidh, king of Ossory. Concraidh told S. Kieran of the strange wish of the lady, and instantly the saint remembered the hedge of blackberries covered by his cloak, and he went and plucked as many as he could carry, and brought them to the sick queen, and she ate them and revived. One day S. Kieran of Clonmacnois and the two Brendans visited the monastery. The steward came to the abbot in dismay, and said, "There is nothing to offer these distinguished guests except some scraps of bacon, and water." "Then serve up the bacon and the water," said the saint. And when they were brought on the table, the bacon tasted to every man better than anything he had ever tasted before, and as for the water, the benediction of the man of God had converted it into wine. But there was at the table a lay-brother, and when he had some bacon put before him, he thrust his platter away angrily, for he was tired of bacon, and had expected something better, when distinguished visitors were present. "Hah!" said the abbot,--'not by way of condemnation, but of prophecy,'--"The time will come when you, son of Comgall, shall eat ass's flesh in Lent, and soon after you will lose your head."