In Concubran’s _Life of St. Modwenna_, we are told that about this time Alfrid, son of the King of England, came to Ireland. This is certainly Alfrid, the illegitimate son of Oswy, who, on the accession of Egfrid (A.D. 670), fled to Ireland, and remained there studying, as Bede tells us, for some while. The Irish king, according to Concubran, was Conall. But this is a mistake. Conall, nephew of Donald II., reigned from 642 to 658. Seachnach was king in 670, but was killed the following year, and was succeeded by Finnachta, who reigned till 695. When Alfrid was about to return to Northumbria, the Irish king wanted to make him a present, but, having nothing in his treasury, bade a kinsman go and rob some church or convent, and give the spoils to the Northumbrian prince. The noble fell on all the lands of the convent of Moninna, and pillaged them and the church. Then the saint, with great boldness, took ship, crossed over to England, went to Northumbria, and found the Prince Alfrid at Whitby (A.D. 685), and demanded redress. The king—for Alfrid was now on the throne—promised to repay all, and placed Moninna in the famous double monastery of Whitby founded by St. Hilda in 658. His own sister, Elfleda, was there; and he committed her to St. Modwenna, to be instructed by her in the way of life. Elfleda was then aged thirty-one. Three years after she succeeded to the place of St. Hilda, and was second Abbess of Whitby. Then St. Modwenna returned to Ireland, and visited her foundations there. After a while she made a pilgrimage to Rome, and in passing through England founded a religious house at Burton-on-Trent, and left in it some of her nuns. I need not follow her history farther. Concubran tells some odd stories of St. Modwenna. One day she and her nuns went to visit St. Bridget—regardless, be it remembered, of the gap of two centuries which intervened. A girl in the company took an onion away with her lest she should be hungry on the road. On reaching the Liffey, the river was found to be too swollen to be crossed. “There is something wrong,” said Modwenna: “let us examine our consciences and cast away the accursed thing.” “The accursed thing is this onion,” said the maiden, producing the bulb. “Take it back to Bridget,” said Modwenna; and, when the onion had been restored, the Liffey subsided. Bridget sent a silver chalice to Modwenna. She threw it into the river, and the waves washed it to its destination. One night Modwenna said to her assembled nuns: “My sisters, we must all cleanse our consciences, for our prayers stick in the roof of the chapel, and cannot break out.” Then one of the nuns said: “It is my fault. I complained to a knight of my acquaintance of the cold I felt; and he told me I was too scantily clothed. He was moved to such pity of me, that he gave me some warm lamb’s-wool underclothing, and I have that on now.” The garment was removed and destroyed; and the prayers got out of the roof and flew to heaven.[5]