One Sunday Patrick was in a cold, damp place, when great rain fell on the earth, but it rained not in the spot where Patrick was, sicut in concha et vellere Gideoni accederat. It was a custom with Patrick to place the cross of Christ over himself one hundred times each day and night; and he would go aside from his path, even though the cross were one thousand paces away, provided that he saw it or knew it to be in his vicinity; whether he was in a chariot or on a horse, he would proceed to each cross. One day Patrick omitted to visit a cross which was on his way, but he knew not that it was there. His charioteer said to him in the evening: "You left a cross which was on your way to-day without visiting." Patrick left his guest-house and his dinner, and went back to the cross. When Patrick was praying at the cross, "This is a sepulchre," said Patrick; "who was buried here?" A voice answered out of the sepulchre: "I am a poor pagan," it said, "and I was buried here; whilst living, I was injuring my soul until I died; and I was buried here afterwards." "What was the reason," asked Patrick, "that the sign of Christianity--_i.e._, the cross--was placed over thy grave?" "This," answered the voice: "a certain woman that was in foreign lands, and her son was buried here in this country in her absence; and she came from foreign lands, and placed this cross over my grave. She thought it was over the grave of her son it was placed; for she was not able through grief to recognize her son's grave." "This is the reason that I missed the cross," said Patrick--"_i.e._, its being over the grave of a pagan." The cross was afterwards raised by Patrick over the Christian's grave. One time Patrick's charioteer wanted his horses; he could not find them, owing to the darkness of the night. Patrick lifted up his hand; his five fingers illuminated all the place as if they were five torches, and the horses were immediately found.