“Bob White’s going to march in the St. Patrick’s day parade,”
said the boy named Billy, “and that leaves me without a thing to
do, unless Somebody will tell me _who_ St. Patrick was and why
all Irish people think so much of him.”
“Strange as it may seem,” said Somebody, “St. Patrick was not an
Irishman at all, but was by birth a Scotchman, having been born
in Scotland about 372. When he was sixteen or seventeen years old
he was stolen by Pirates and taken to Ireland and made to work at
herding swine. He was a very studious boy and in the seven years
that he remained a swineherd he learned the Irish language and
the customs of the people.
“He then made up his mind that swineherding was not the right
sort of occupation for a bright-minded youth like himself, so he
escaped to the Continent, where after more years of study he was
ordained by Pope Celestine and sent back to Ireland to preach
Christianity to the people.
“But the old priests did not like him. He was very likely too
bright for them, and they persecuted him, and made things very
uncomfortable for him. Finally he was obliged to leave there, but
before he went he cursed the lands of the other priests so that
they would not bear crops, just to even up things.
[Illustration: But just then an Angel came]
“He was none too comfortable himself, but he did not mind small
discomforts because one cold and snowy morning when they were
on the top of a mountain with no fire to cook their breakfast St.
Patrick told his followers to gather a great pile of snowballs,
and when that had been done he breathed upon them and immediately
there was a great glowing fire, and they got breakfast very
nicely. This and other miracles made him very popular, and so
when the scourge of snakes came he was sent for and begged to
disperse the reptiles.
“‘Easy,’ said St. Patrick, ‘bring me a drum.’ When the drum came
he began beating it with such vim and vigor that he broke its
head, and it looked for a time as though the trick would fail.
But just then an angel came and mended the drum and the snakes
were forever banished. Just to prove it they kept the drum for
many centuries.
“These and other marvels were performed by St. Patrick, who lived
to be 121 years old, dying on his birthday, March 17th, 492.
“Historians have relegated many stories about Saint Patrick
to the realm of myth, but the shamrock remains the emblem of
Ireland, proudly worn by Irishmen the world over on Saint
Patrick’s Day, March seventeenth. The true shamrock (in Irish
seamrog, meaning “three-leaved”) is the hop clover, which much
resembles our common white clover, except that the flower is
yellow instead of blue-green. Large shipments of shamrocks are
brought to the United States for Saint Patrick’s Day.”
“So the shamrock is the National emblem of Irish people,” said
Billy.
“Yes,” said Somebody. “And it is said that no snake can live
where it grows.
“Perhaps if one will take the trouble to think it out, one may
find in that belief the idea of faith and loyalty and love
of country for which the Irish people are noted, and that
emblematically it means that no traitor to Ireland can live near
the Shamrock.”
“I see,” said the boy named Billy, “they feel as we do about our
Eagle, don’t they?”