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diff --git a/33887-8.txt b/33887-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cebefa --- /dev/null +++ b/33887-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12999 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry, by +William Butler Yeats + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry + +Author: William Butler Yeats + +Editor: William Butler Yeats + +Release Date: October 28, 2010 [EBook #33887] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY AND FOLK TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Brian Foley and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + FAIRY AND FOLK TALES OF THE + IRISH PEASANTRY. EDITED AND + SELECTED BY W. B. YEATS. + + THE WALTER SCOTT PUBLISHING CO., LTD. + LONDON AND FELLING-ON-TYNE. + NEW YORK: 3 EAST 14TH STREET. + + + + + INSCRIBED + TO MY MYSTICAL FRIEND, + G. R. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + THE TROOPING FAIRIES-- PAGE + + The Fairies 3 + Frank Martin and the Fairies 5 + The Priest's Supper 9 + The Fairy Well of Lagnanay 13 + Teig O'Kane and the Corpse 16 + Paddy Corcoran's Wife 31 + Cusheen Loo 33 + The White Trout; A Legend of Cong 35 + The Fairy Thorn 38 + The Legend of Knockgrafton 40 + A Donegal Fairy 46 + + CHANGELINGS-- + + The Brewery of Egg-shells 48 + The Fairy Nurse 51 + Jamie Freel and the Young Lady 52 + The Stolen Child 59 + + THE MERROW-- + The Soul Cages 61 + Flory Cantillon's Funeral 75 + + + THE SOLITARY FAIRIES-- + + The Lepracaun; or, Fairy Shoemaker 81 + Master and Man 84 + Far Darrig in Donegal 90 + The Piper and the Puca 95 + Daniel O'Rourke 97 + The Kildare Pooka 105 + How Thomas Connolly met the Banshee 108 + A Lamentation for the Death of Sir Maurice Fitzgerald 112 + The Banshee of the MacCarthys 113 + + + GHOSTS-- + + A Dream 129 + Grace Connor 130 + A Legend of Tyrone 132 + The Black Lamb 134 + The Radiant Boy 136 + The Fate of Frank M'Kenna 139 + + + WITCHES, FAIRY DOCTORS-- + + Bewitched Butter (Donegal) 149 + A Queen's County Witch 151 + The Witch Hare 154 + Bewitched Butter (Queen's County) 155 + The Horned Women 165 + The Witches' Excursion 168 + The Confessions of Tom Bourke 170 + The Pudding Bewitched 185 + + + T'YEER-NA-N-OGE-- + + The Legend of O'Donoghue 201 + Rent-Day 203 + Loughleagh (Lake of Healing) 206 + Hy-Brasail.--The Isle of the Blest 212 + The Phantom Isle 213 + + + SAINTS, PRIESTS-- + + The Priest's Soul 215 + The Priest of Coloony 220 + The Story of the Little Bird 222 + Conversion of King Laoghaire's Daughters 224 + King O'Toole and his Goose 224 + + + THE DEVIL-- + + The Demon Cat 229 + The Long Spoon 231 + The Countess Kathleen O'Shea 232 + The Three Wishes 235 + + + GIANTS-- + + The Giant's Stairs 260 + A Legend of Knockmany 266 + + + KINGS, QUEENS, PRINCESSES, EARLS, ROBBERS-- + + The Twelve Wild Geese 280 + The Lazy Beauty and her Aunts 286 + The Haughty Princess 290 + The Enchantment of Gearoidh Iarla 294 + Munachar and Manachar 296 + Donald and his Neighbours 299 + The Jackdaw 303 + The Story of Conn-eda 306 + + + NOTES 319 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Dr. Corbett, Bishop of Oxford and Norwich, lamented long ago the +departure of the English fairies. "In Queen Mary's time" he wrote-- + + "When Tom came home from labour, + Or Cis to milking rose, + Then merrily, merrily went their tabor, + And merrily went their toes." + +But now, in the times of James, they had all gone, for "they were of the +old profession," and "their songs were Ave Maries." In Ireland they are +still extant, giving gifts to the kindly, and plaguing the surly. "Have +you ever seen a fairy or such like?" I asked an old man in County Sligo. +"Amn't I annoyed with them," was the answer. "Do the fishermen along +here know anything of the mermaids?" I asked a woman of a village in +County Dublin. "Indeed, they don't like to see them at all," she +answered, "for they always bring bad weather." "Here is a man who +believes in ghosts," said a foreign sea-captain, pointing to a pilot of +my acquaintance. "In every house over there," said the pilot, pointing +to his native village of Rosses, "there are several." Certainly that now +old and much respected dogmatist, the Spirit of the Age, has in no +manner made his voice heard down there. In a little while, for he has +gotten a consumptive appearance of late, he will be covered over +decently in his grave, and another will grow, old and much respected, in +his place, and never be heard of down there, and after him another and +another and another. Indeed, it is a question whether any of these +personages will ever be heard of outside the newspaper offices and +lecture-rooms and drawing-rooms and eel-pie houses of the cities, or if +the Spirit of the Age is at any time more than a froth. At any rate, +whole troops of their like will not change the Celt much. Giraldus +Cambrensis found the people of the western islands a trifle paganish. +"How many gods are there?" asked a priest, a little while ago, of a man +from the Island of Innistor. "There is one on Innistor; but this seems a +big place," said the man, and the priest held up his hands in horror, as +Giraldus had, just seven centuries before. Remember, I am not blaming +the man; it is very much better to believe in a number of gods than in +none at all, or to think there is only one, but that he is a little +sentimental and impracticable, and not constructed for the nineteenth +century. The Celt, and his cromlechs, and his pillar-stones, these will +not change much--indeed, it is doubtful if anybody at all changes at any +time. In spite of hosts of deniers, and asserters, and wise-men, and +professors, the majority still are averse to sitting down to dine +thirteen at table, or being helped to salt, or walking under a ladder, +or seeing a single magpie flirting his chequered tail. There are, of +course, children of light who have set their faces against all this, +though even a newspaper man, if you entice him into a cemetery at +midnight, will believe in phantoms, for every one is a visionary, if you +scratch him deep enough. But the Celt is a visionary without scratching. + +Yet, be it noticed, if you are a stranger, you will not readily get +ghost and fairy legends, even in a western village. You must go adroitly +to work, and make friends with the children, and the old men, with those +who have not felt the pressure of mere daylight existence, and those +with whom it is growing less, and will have altogether taken itself off +one of these days. The old women are most learned, but will not so +readily be got to talk, for the fairies are very secretive, and much +resent being talked of; and are there not many stories of old women who +were nearly pinched into their graves or numbed with fairy blasts? + +At sea, when the nets are out and the pipes are lit, then will some +ancient hoarder of tales become loquacious, telling his histories to +the tune of the creaking of the boats. Holy-eve night, too, is a great +time, and in old days many tales were to be heard at wakes. But the +priests have set faces against wakes. + +In the Parochial Survey of Ireland it is recorded how the +story-tellers used to gather together of an evening, and if any had a +different version from the others, they would all recite theirs and +vote, and the man who had varied would have to abide by their verdict. +In this way stories have been handed down with such accuracy, that the +long tale of Dierdre was, in the earlier decades of this century, told +almost word for word, as in the very ancient MSS. in the Royal Dublin +Society. In one case only it varied, and then the MS. was obviously +wrong--a passage had been forgotten by the copyist. But this accuracy +is rather in the folk and bardic tales than in the fairy legends, for +these vary widely, being usually adapted to some neighbouring village +or local fairy-seeing celebrity. Each county has usually some family, +or personage, supposed to have been favoured or plagued, especially by +the phantoms, as the Hackets of Castle Hacket, Galway, who had for +their ancestor a fairy, or John-o'-Daly of Lisadell, Sligo, who wrote +"Eilleen Aroon," the song the Scotch have stolen and called "Robin +Adair," and which Handel would sooner have written than all his +oratorios,[1] and the "O'Donahue of Kerry." Round these men stories +tended to group themselves, sometimes deserting more ancient heroes +for the purpose. Round poets have they gathered especially, for poetry +in Ireland has always been mysteriously connected with magic. + +These folk-tales are full of simplicity and musical occurrences, for +they are the literature of a class for whom every incident in the old +rut of birth, love, pain, and death has cropped up unchanged for +centuries: who have steeped everything in the heart: to whom +everything is a symbol. They have the spade over which man has leant +from the beginning. The people of the cities have the machine, which +is prose and a _parvenu_. They have few events. They can turn over the +incidents of a long life as they sit by the fire. With us nothing has +time to gather meaning, and too many things are occurring for even a +big heart to hold. It is said the most eloquent people in the world +are the Arabs, who have only the bare earth of the desert and a sky +swept bare by the sun. "Wisdom has alighted upon three things," goes +their proverb; "the hand of the Chinese, the brain of the Frank, and +the tongue of the Arab." This, I take it, is the meaning of that +simplicity sought for so much in these days by all the poets, and not +to be had at any price. + +The most notable and typical story-teller of my acquaintance is one +Paddy Flynn, a little, bright-eyed, old man, living in a leaky +one-roomed cottage of the village of B----, "The most gentle--_i.e._, +fairy--place in the whole of the County Sligo," he says, though +others claim that honour for Drumahair or for Drumcliff. A very pious +old man, too! You may have some time to inspect his strange figure and +ragged hair, if he happen to be in a devout humour, before he comes to +the doings of the gentry. A strange devotion! Old tales of Columkill, +and what he said to his mother. "How are you to-day, mother?" "Worse!" +"May you be worse to-morrow;" and on the next day, "How are you +to-day, mother?" "Worse!" "May you be worse to-morrow;" and on the +next, "How are you to-day, mother?" "Better, thank God." "May you be +better to-morrow." In which undutiful manner he will tell you +Columkill inculcated cheerfulness. Then most likely he will wander off +into his favourite theme--how the Judge smiles alike in rewarding the +good and condemning the lost to unceasing flames. Very consoling does +it appear to Paddy Flynn, this melancholy and apocalyptic cheerfulness +of the Judge. Nor seems his own cheerfulness quite earthly--though a +very palpable cheerfulness. The first time I saw him he was cooking +mushrooms for himself; the next time he was asleep under a hedge, +smiling in his sleep. Assuredly some joy not quite of this steadfast +earth lightens in those eyes--swift as the eyes of a rabbit--among so +many wrinkles, for Paddy Flynn is very old. A melancholy there is in +the midst of their cheerfulness--a melancholy that is almost a portion +of their joy, the visionary melancholy of purely instinctive natures +and of all animals. In the triple solitude of age and eccentricity and +partial deafness he goes about much pestered by children. + +As to the reality of his fairy and spirit-seeing powers, not all are +agreed. One day we were talking of the Banshee. "I have seen it," he +said, "down there by the water 'batting' the river with its hands." +He it was who said the fairies annoyed him. + +Not that the Sceptic is entirely afar even from these western +villages. I found him one morning as he bound his corn in a merest +pocket-handkerchief of a field. Very different from Paddy +Flynn--Scepticism in every wrinkle of his face, and a travelled man, +too!--a foot-long Mohawk Indian tatooed on one of his arms to evidence +the matter. "They who travel," says a neighbouring priest, shaking his +head over him, and quoting Thomas Á'Kempis, "seldom come home holy." I +had mentioned ghosts to this Sceptic. "Ghosts," said he; "there are no +such things at all, at all, but the gentry, they stand to reason; for +the devil, when he fell out of heaven, took the weak-minded ones with +him, and they were put into the waste places. And that's what the +gentry are. But they are getting scarce now, because their time's +over, ye see, and they're going back. But ghosts, no! And I'll tell ye +something more I don't believe in--the fire of hell;" then, in a low +voice, "that's only invented to give the priests and the parsons +something to do." Thereupon this man, so full of enlightenment, +returned to his corn-binding. + +The various collectors of Irish folk-lore have, from our point of +view, one great merit, and from the point of view of others, one great +fault. They have made their work literature rather than science, and +told us of the Irish peasantry rather than of the primitive religion +of mankind, or whatever else the folk-lorists are on the gad after. To +be considered scientists they should have tabulated all their tales in +forms like grocers' bills--item the fairy king, item the queen. +Instead of this they have caught the very voice of the people, the +very pulse of life, each giving what was most noticed in his day. +Croker and Lover, full of the ideas of harum-scarum Irish gentility, +saw everything humorised. The impulse of the Irish literature of their +time came from a class that did not--mainly for political +reasons--take the populace seriously, and imagined the country as a +humorist's Arcadia; its passion, its gloom, its tragedy, they knew +nothing of. What they did was not wholly false; they merely magnified +an irresponsible type, found oftenest among boatmen, carmen, and +gentlemen's servants, into the type of a whole nation, and created the +stage Irishman. The writers of 'Forty-eight, and the famine combined, +burst their bubble. Their work had the dash as well as the shallowness +of an ascendant and idle class, and in Croker is touched everywhere +with beauty--a gentle Arcadian beauty. Carleton, a peasant born, has +in many of his stories--I have been only able to give a few of the +slightest--more especially in his ghost stories, a much more serious +way with him, for all his humour. Kennedy, an old bookseller in +Dublin, who seems to have had a something of genuine belief in the +fairies, came next in time. He has far less literary faculty, but is +wonderfully accurate, giving often the very words the stories were +told in. But the best book since Croker is Lady Wilde's _Ancient +Legends_. The humour has all given way to pathos and tenderness. We +have here the innermost heart of the Celt in the moments he has grown +to love through years of persecution, when, cushioning himself about +with dreams, and hearing fairy-songs in the twilight, he ponders on +the soul and on the dead. Here is the Celt, only it is the Celt +dreaming. + +Besides these are two writers of importance, who have published, so +far, nothing in book shape--Miss Letitia Maclintock and Mr. Douglas +Hyde. Miss Maclintock writes accurately and beautifully the half +Scotch dialect of Ulster; and Mr. Douglas Hyde is now preparing a +volume of folk tales in Gaelic, having taken them down, for the most +part, word for word among the Gaelic speakers of Roscommon and Galway. +He is, perhaps, most to be trusted of all. He knows the people +thoroughly. Others see a phase of Irish life; he understands all its +elements. His work is neither humorous nor mournful; it is simply +life. I hope he may put some of his gatherings into ballads, for he is +the last of our ballad-writers of the school of Walsh and +Callanan--men whose work seems fragrant with turf smoke. And this +brings to mind the chap-books. They are to be found brown with turf +smoke on cottage shelves, and are, or were, sold on every hand by the +pedlars, but cannot be found in any library of this city of the +Sassanach. "The Royal Fairy Tales," "The Hibernian Tales," and "The +Legends of the Fairies" are the fairy literature of the people. + +Several specimens of our fairy poetry are given. It is more like the +fairy poetry of Scotland than of England. The personages of English +fairy literature are merely, in most cases, mortals beautifully +masquerading. Nobody ever believed in such fairies. They are romantic +bubbles from Provence. Nobody ever laid new milk on their doorstep for +them. + +As to my own part in this book, I have tried to make it +representative, as far as so few pages would allow, of every kind of +Irish folk-faith. The reader will perhaps wonder that in all my notes +I have not rationalised a single hobgoblin. I seek for shelter to the +words of Socrates.[2] + +"_Phædrus._ I should like to know, Socrates, whether the place is not +somewhere here at which Boreas is said to have carried off Orithyia +from the banks of the Ilissus? + +"_Socrates._ That is the tradition. + +"_Phædrus._ And is this the exact spot? The little stream is +delightfully clear and bright; I can fancy that there might be maidens +playing near. + +"_Socrates._ I believe the spot is not exactly here, but about a +quarter-of-a-mile lower down, where you cross to the temple of +Artemis, and I think that there is some sort of an altar of Boreas at +the place. + +"_Phædrus._ I do not recollect; but I beseech you to tell me, +Socrates, do you believe this tale? + +"_Socrates._ The wise are doubtful, and I should not be singular if, +like them, I also doubted. I might have a rational explanation that +Orithyia was playing with Pharmacia, when a northern gust carried her +over the neighbouring rocks; and this being the manner of her death, +she was said to have been carried away by Boreas. There is a +discrepancy, however, about the locality. According to another version +of the story, she was taken from the Areopagus, and not from this +place. Now I quite acknowledge that these allegories are very nice, +but he is not to be envied who has to invent them; much labour and +ingenuity will be required of him; and when he has once begun, he must +go on and rehabilitate centaurs and chimeras dire. Gorgons and winged +steeds flow in apace, and numberless other inconceivable and +portentous monsters. And if he is sceptical about them, and would fain +reduce them one after another to the rules of probability, this sort +of crude philosophy will take up all his time. Now, I have certainly +not time for such inquiries. Shall I tell you why? I must first know +myself, as the Delphian inscription says; to be curious about that +which is not my business, while I am still in ignorance of my own +self, would be ridiculous. And, therefore, I say farewell to all this; +the common opinion is enough for me. For, as I was saying, I want to +know not about this, but about myself. Am I, indeed, a wonder more +complicated and swollen with passion than the serpent Typho, or a +creature of gentler and simpler sort, to whom nature has given a +diviner and lowlier destiny?" + + * * * * * + +I have to thank Messrs Macmillan, and the editors of _Belgravia_, _All +the Year Round_, and _Monthly Packet_, for leave to quote from Patrick +Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts_, and Miss +Maclintock's articles respectively; Lady Wilde, for leave to give what +I would from her _Ancient Legends of Ireland_ (Ward & Downey); and Mr. +Douglas Hyde, for his three unpublished stories, and for valuable and +valued assistance in several ways; and also Mr. Allingham, and other +copyright holders, for their poems. Mr. Allingham's poems are from +_Irish Songs and Poems_ (Reeves and Turner); Fergusson's, from Sealey, +Bryers, & Walker's shilling reprint; my own and Miss O'Leary's from +_Ballads and Poems of Young Ireland_, 1888, a little anthology +published by Gill & Sons, Dublin. + + W. B. YEATS. + +[Footnote 1: He lived some time in Dublin, and heard it then.] + +[Footnote 2: _Phædrus._ Jowett's translation. (Clarendon Press.)] + + + + +FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. + + + + +THE TROOPING FAIRIES. + + +The Irish word for fairy is _sheehogue_ [_sidheóg_], a diminutive of +"shee" in _banshee_. Fairies are _deenee shee_ [_daoine sidhe_] (fairy +people). + +Who are they? "Fallen angels who were not good enough to be saved, nor +bad enough to be lost," say the peasantry. "The gods of the earth," +says the Book of Armagh. "The gods of pagan Ireland," say the Irish +antiquarians, "the _Tuatha De Dan[=a]n_, who, when no longer +worshipped and fed with offerings, dwindled away in the popular +imagination, and now are only a few spans high." + +And they will tell you, in proof, that the names of fairy chiefs are +the names of old _Dan[=a]n_ heroes, and the places where they +especially gather together, _Dan[=a]n_ burying-places, and that the +_Tuath De Dan[=a]n_ used also to be called the _slooa-shee_ [_sheagh +sidhe_] (the fairy host), or _Marcra shee_ (the fairy cavalcade). + +On the other hand, there is much evidence to prove them fallen angels. +Witness the nature of the creatures, their caprice, their way of being +good to the good and evil to the evil, having every charm but +conscience--consistency. Beings so quickly offended that you must not +speak much about them at all, and never call them anything but the +"gentry," or else _daoine maithe_, which in English means good people, +yet so easily pleased, they will do their best to keep misfortune away +from you, if you leave a little milk for them on the window-sill over +night. On the whole, the popular belief tells us most about them, +telling us how they fell, and yet were not lost, because their evil +was wholly without malice. + +Are they "the gods of the earth?" Perhaps! Many poets, and all mystic +and occult writers, in all ages and countries, have declared that +behind the visible are chains on chains of conscious beings, who are +not of heaven but of the earth, who have no inherent form but change +according to their whim, or the mind that sees them. You cannot lift +your hand without influencing and being influenced by hoards. The +visible world is merely their skin. In dreams we go amongst them, and +play with them, and combat with them. They are, perhaps, human souls +in the crucible--these creatures of whim. + +Do not think the fairies are always little. Everything is capricious +about them, even their size. They seem to take what size or shape +pleases them. Their chief occupations are feasting, fighting, and +making love, and playing the most beautiful music. They have only one +industrious person amongst them, the _lepra-caun_--the shoemaker. +Perhaps they wear their shoes out with dancing. Near the village of +Ballisodare is a little woman who lived amongst them seven years. When +she came home she had no toes--she had danced them off. + +They have three great festivals in the year--May Eve, Midsummer Eve, +November Eve. On May Eve, every seventh year, they fight all round, +but mostly on the "Plain-a-Bawn" (wherever that is), for the harvest, +for the best ears of grain belong to them. An old man told me he saw +them fight once; they tore the thatch off a house in the midst of it +all. Had anyone else been near they would merely have seen a great +wind whirling everything into the air as it passed. When the wind +makes the straws and leaves whirl as it passes, that is the fairies, +and the peasantry take off their hats and say, "God bless them." + +On Midsummer Eve, when the bonfires are lighted on every hill in +honour of St. John, the fairies are at their gayest, and sometime +steal away beautiful mortals to be their brides. + +On November Eve they are at their gloomiest, for, according to the old +Gaelic reckoning, this is the first night of winter. This night they +dance with the ghosts, and the _pooka_ is abroad, and witches make +their spells, and girls set a table with food in the name of the +devil, that the fetch of their future lover may come through the +window and eat of the food. After November Eve the blackberries are no +longer wholesome, for the _pooka_ has spoiled them. + +When they are angry they paralyse men and cattle with their fairy darts. + +When they are gay they sing. Many a poor girl has heard them, and +pined away and died, for love of that singing. Plenty of the old +beautiful tunes of Ireland are only their music, caught up by +eavesdroppers. No wise peasant would hum "The Pretty Girl milking the +Cow" near a fairy rath, for they are jealous, and do not like to hear +their songs on clumsy mortal lips. Carolan, the last of the Irish +bards, slept on a rath, and ever after the fairy tunes ran in his +head, and made him the great man he was. + +Do they die? Blake saw a fairy's funeral; but in Ireland we say they +are immortal. + + + + +THE FAIRIES. + +WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. + + + Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We daren't go a-hunting + For fear of little men; + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + And white owl's feather! + + Down along the rocky shore + Some make their home, + They live on crispy pancakes + Of yellow tide-foam; + Some in the reeds + Of the black mountain lake, + With frogs for their watch-dogs + All night awake. + + High on the hill-top + The old King sits; + He is now so old and gray + He's nigh lost his wits. + With a bridge of white mist + Columbkill he crosses, + On his stately journeys + From Slieveleague to Rosses; + Or going up with music + On cold starry nights, + To sup with the Queen + Of the gay Northern Lights. + + They stole little Bridget + For seven years long; + When she came down again + Her friends were all gone. + They took her lightly back, + Between the night and morrow, + They thought that she was fast asleep, + But she was dead with sorrow. + They have kept her ever since + Deep within the lake, + On a bed of flag-leaves, + Watching till she wake. + + By the craggy hill-side, + Through the mosses bare, + They have planted thorn-trees + For pleasure here and there. + Is any man so daring + As dig them up in spite, + He shall find their sharpest thorns + In his bed at night. + + Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We daren't go a-hunting + For fear of little men; + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + And white owl's feather! + + + + +FRANK MARTIN AND THE FAIRIES. + +WILLIAM CARLETON. + + +Martin was a thin pale man, when I saw him, of a sickly look, and a +constitution naturally feeble. His hair was a light auburn, his beard +mostly unshaven, and his hands of a singular delicacy and whiteness, +owing, I dare say, as much to the soft and easy nature of his +employment as to his infirm health. In everything else he was as +sensible, sober, and rational as any other man; but on the topic of +fairies, the man's mania was peculiarly strong and immovable. Indeed, +I remember that the expression of his eyes was singularly wild and +hollow, and his long narrow temples sallow and emaciated. + +Now, this man did not lead an unhappy life, nor did the malady he +laboured under seem to be productive of either pain or terror to him, +although one might be apt to imagine otherwise. On the contrary, he +and the fairies maintained the most friendly intimacy, and their +dialogues--which I fear were wofully one-sided ones--must have been a +source of great pleasure to him, for they were conducted with much +mirth and laughter, on his part at least. + +"Well, Frank, when did you see the fairies?" + +"Whist! there's two dozen of them in the shop (the weaving shop) this +minute. There's a little ould fellow sittin' on the top of the sleys, +an' all to be rocked while I'm weavin'. The sorrow's in them, but +they're the greatest little skamers alive, so they are. See, there's +another of them at my dressin' noggin.[3] Go out o' that, you +_shingawn_; or, bad cess to me, if you don't, but I'll lave you a +mark. Ha! cut, you thief you!" + +"Frank, arn't you afeard o' them?" + +"Is it me! Arra, what ud' I be afeard o' them for? Sure they have no +power over me." + +"And why haven't they, Frank?" + +"Because I was baptized against them." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Why, the priest that christened me was tould by my father, to put in +the proper prayer against the fairies--an' a priest can't refuse it +when he's asked--an' he did so. Begorra, it's well for me that he +did--(let the tallow alone, you little glutton--see, there's a weeny +thief o' them aitin' my tallow)--becaise, you see, it was their +intention to make me king o' the fairies." + +"Is it possible?" + +"Devil a lie in it. Sure you may ax them, an' they'll tell you." + +"What size are they, Frank?" + +"Oh, little wee fellows, with green coats, an' the purtiest little shoes +ever you seen. There's two of them--both ould acquaintances o' +mine--runnin' along the yarn-beam. That ould fellow with the bob-wig is +called Jim Jam, an' the other chap, with the three-cocked hat, is called +Nickey Nick. Nickey plays the pipes. Nickey, give us a tune, or I'll +malivogue you--come now, 'Lough Erne Shore.' Whist, now--listen!" + +The poor fellow, though weaving as fast as he could all the time, yet +bestowed every possible mark of attention to the music, and seemed to +enjoy it as much as if it had been real. + +But who can tell whether that which we look upon as a privation may +not after all be a fountain of increased happiness, greater, perhaps, +than any which we ourselves enjoy? I forget who the poet is who says-- + + "Mysterious are thy laws; + The vision's finer than the view; + Her landscape Nature never drew + So fair as Fancy draws." + +Many a time, when a mere child, not more than six or seven years of +age, have I gone as far as Frank's weaving-shop, in order, with a +heart divided between curiosity and fear, to listen to his +conversation with the good people. From morning till night his tongue +was going almost as incessantly as his shuttle; and it was well known +that at night, whenever he awoke out of his sleep, the first thing he +did was to put out his hand, and push them, as it were, off his bed. + +"Go out o' this, you thieves, you--go out o' this now, an' let me +alone. Nickey, is this any time to be playing the pipes, and me wants +to sleep? Go off, now--troth if yez do, you'll see what I'll give yez +to-morrow. Sure I'll be makin' new dressin's; and if yez behave +decently, maybe I'll lave yez the scrapin' o' the pot. There now. Och! +poor things, they're dacent crathurs. Sure they're all gone, barrin' +poor Red-cap, that doesn't like to lave me." And then the harmless +monomaniac would fall back into what we trust was an innocent slumber. + +About this time there was said to have occurred a very remarkable +circumstance, which gave poor Frank a vast deal of importance among +the neighbours. A man named Frank Thomas, the same in whose house +Mickey M'Rorey held the first dance at which I ever saw him, as +detailed in a former sketch; this man, I say, had a child sick, but +of what complaint I cannot now remember, nor is it of any importance. +One of the gables of Thomas's house was built against, or rather into, +a Forth or Rath, called Towny, or properly Tonagh Forth. It was said +to be haunted by the fairies, and what gave it a character peculiarly +wild in my eyes was, that there were on the southern side of it two or +three little green mounds, which were said to be the graves of +unchristened children, over which it was considered dangerous and +unlucky to pass. At all events, the season was mid-summer; and one +evening about dusk, during the illness of the child, the noise of a +hand-saw was heard upon the Forth. This was considered rather strange, +and, after a little time, a few of those who were assembled at Frank +Thomas's went to see who it could be that was sawing in such a place, +or what they could be sawing at so late an hour, for every one knew +that nobody in the whole country about them would dare to cut down the +few white-thorns that grew upon the Forth. On going to examine, +however, judge of their surprise, when, after surrounding and +searching the whole place, they could discover no trace of either saw +or sawyer. In fact, with the exception of themselves, there was no +one, either natural or supernatural, visible. They then returned to +the house, and had scarcely sat down, when it was heard again within +ten yards of them. Another examination of the premises took place, but +with equal success. Now, however, while standing on the Forth, they +heard the sawing in a little hollow, about a hundred and fifty yards +below them, which was completely exposed to their view, but they could +see nobody. A party of them immediately went down to ascertain, if +possible, what this singular noise and invisible labour could mean; +but on arriving at the spot, they heard the sawing, to which were now +added hammering, and the driving of nails upon the Forth above, whilst +those who stood on the Forth continued to hear it in the hollow. On +comparing notes, they resolved to send down to Billy Nelson's for +Frank Martin, a distance of only about eighty or ninety yards. He was +soon on the spot, and without a moment's hesitation solved the enigma. + +"'Tis the fairies," said he. "I see them, and busy crathurs they are." + +"But what are they sawing, Frank?" + +"They are makin' a child's coffin," he replied; "they have the body +already made, an' they're now nailin' the lid together." + +That night the child died, and the story goes that on the second +evening afterwards, the carpenter who was called upon to make the +coffin brought a table out from Thomas's house to the Forth, as a +temporary bench; and, it is said, that the sawing and hammering +necessary for the completion of his task were precisely the same which +had been heard the evening but one before--neither more nor less. I +remember the death of the child myself, and the making of its coffin, +but I think the story of the supernatural carpenter was not heard in +the village for some months after its interment. + +Frank had every appearance of a hypochondriac about him. At the time I +saw him, he might be about thirty-four years of age, but I do not +think, from the debility of his frame and infirm health, that he has +been alive for several years. He was an object of considerable +interest and curiosity, and often have I been present when he was +pointed out to strangers as "the man that could see the good people." + +[Footnote 3: The dressings are a species of sizy flummery, which is +brushed into the yarn to keep the thread round and even, and to +prevent it from being frayed by the friction of the reed.] + + + + +THE PRIEST'S SUPPER. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +It is said by those who ought to understand such things, that the good +people, or the fairies, are some of the angels who were turned out of +heaven, and who landed on their feet in this world, while the rest of +their companions, who had more sin to sink them, went down farther to +a worse place. Be this as it may, there was a merry troop of the +fairies, dancing and playing all manner of wild pranks, on a bright +moonlight evening towards the end of September. The scene of their +merriment was not far distant from Inchegeela, in the west of the +county Cork--a poor village, although it had a barrack for soldiers; +but great mountains and barren rocks, like those round about it, are +enough to strike poverty into any place: however, as the fairies can +have everything they want for wishing, poverty does not trouble them +much, and all their care is to seek out unfrequented nooks and places +where it is not likely any one will come to spoil their sport. + +On a nice green sod by the river's side were the little fellows +dancing in a ring as gaily as may be, with their red caps wagging +about at every bound in the moonshine, and so light were these bounds +that the lobs of dew, although they trembled under their feet, were +not disturbed by their capering. Thus did they carry on their gambols, +spinning round and round, and twirling and bobbing and diving, and +going through all manner of figures, until one of them chirped out, + + "Cease, cease, with your drumming, + Here's an end to our mumming; + By my smell + I can tell + A priest this way is coming!" + +And away every one of the fairies scampered off as hard as they could, +concealing themselves under the green leaves of the lusmore, where, if +their little red caps should happen to peep out, they would only look +like its crimson bells; and more hid themselves at the shady side of +stones and brambles, and others under the bank of the river, and in +holes and crannies of one kind or another. + +The fairy speaker was not mistaken; for along the road, which was +within view of the river, came Father Horrigan on his pony, thinking +to himself that as it was so late he would make an end of his journey +at the first cabin he came to. According to this determination, he +stopped at the dwelling of Dermod Leary, lifted the latch, and entered +with "My blessing on all here." + +I need not say that Father Horrigan was a welcome guest wherever he +went, for no man was more pious or better beloved in the country. Now +it was a great trouble to Dermod that he had nothing to offer his +reverence for supper as a relish to the potatoes, which "the old +woman," for so Dermod called his wife, though she was not much past +twenty, had down boiling in a pot over the fire; he thought of the net +which he had set in the river, but as it had been there only a short +time, the chances were against his finding a fish in it. "No matter," +thought Dermod, "there can be no harm in stepping down to try; and +maybe, as I want the fish for the priest's supper, that one will be +there before me." + +Down to the river-side went Dermod, and he found in the net as fine a +salmon as ever jumped in the bright waters of "the spreading Lee;" but +as he was going to take it out, the net was pulled from him, he could +not tell how or by whom, and away got the salmon, and went swimming +along with the current as gaily as if nothing had happened. + +Dermod looked sorrowfully at the wake which the fish had left upon the +water, shining like a line of silver in the moonlight, and then, with +an angry motion of his right hand, and a stamp of his foot, gave vent +to his feelings by muttering, "May bitter bad luck attend you night +and day for a blackguard schemer of a salmon, wherever you go! You +ought to be ashamed of yourself, if there's any shame in you, to give +me the slip after this fashion! And I'm clear in my own mind you'll +come to no good, for some kind of evil thing or other helped you--did +I not feel it pull the net against me as strong as the devil himself?" + +"That's not true for you," said one of the little fairies who had +scampered off at the approach of the priest, coming up to Dermod Leary +with a whole throng of companions at his heels; "there was only a +dozen and a half of us pulling against you." + +Dermod gazed on the tiny speaker with wonder, who continued, "Make +yourself noways uneasy about the priest's supper; for if you will go +back and ask him one question from us, there will be as fine a supper +as ever was put on a table spread out before him in less than no time." + +"I'll have nothing at all to do with you," replied Dermod in a tone of +determination; and after a pause he added, "I'm much obliged to you +for your offer, sir, but I know better than to sell myself to you, or +the like of you, for a supper; and more than that, I know Father +Horrigan has more regard for my soul than to wish me to pledge it for +ever, out of regard to anything you could put before him--so there's +an end of the matter." + +The little speaker, with a pertinacity not to be repulsed by Dermod's +manner, continued, "Will you ask the priest one civil question for us?" + +Dermod considered for some time, and he was right in doing so, but he +thought that no one could come to harm out of asking a civil question. +"I see no objection to do that same, gentlemen," said Dermod; "but I +will have nothing in life to do with your supper--mind that." + +"Then," said the little speaking fairy, whilst the rest came crowding +after him from all parts, "go and ask Father Horrigan to tell us +whether our souls will be saved at the last day, like the souls of +good Christians; and if you wish us well, bring back word what he says +without delay." + +Away went Dermod to his cabin, where he found the potatoes thrown out +on the table, and his good woman handing the biggest of them all, a +beautiful laughing red apple, smoking like a hard-ridden horse on a +frosty night, over to Father Horrigan. + +"Please your reverence," said Dermod, after some hesitation, "may I +make bold to ask your honour one question?" + +"What may that be?" said Father Horrigan. + +"Why, then, begging your reverence's pardon for my freedom, it is, If +the souls of the good people are to be saved at the last day?" + +"Who bid you ask me that question, Leary?" said the priest, fixing his +eyes upon him very sternly, which Dermod could not stand before at all. + +"I'll tell no lies about the matter, and nothing in life but the +truth," said Dermod. "It was the good people themselves who sent me to +ask the question, and there they are in thousands down on the bank of +the river, waiting for me to go back with the answer." + +"Go back by all means," said the priest, "and tell them, if they want +to know, to come here to me themselves, and I'll answer that or any +other question they are pleased to ask with the greatest pleasure in +life." + +Dermod accordingly returned to the fairies, who came swarming round +about him to hear what the priest had said in reply; and Dermod spoke +out among them like a bold man as he was: but when they heard that +they must go to the priest, away they fled, some here and more there, +and some this way and more that, whisking by poor Dermod so fast and +in such numbers that he was quite bewildered. + +When he came to himself, which was not for a long time, back he went +to his cabin, and ate his dry potatoes along with Father Horrigan, who +made quite light of the thing; but Dermod could not help thinking it a +mighty hard case that his reverence, whose words had the power to +banish the fairies at such a rate, should have no sort of relish to +his supper, and that the fine salmon he had in the net should have +been got away from him in such a manner. + + + + +THE FAIRY WELL OF LAGNANAY. + +BY SAMUEL FERGUSON. + + + Mournfully, sing mournfully-- + "O listen, Ellen, sister dear: + Is there no help at all for me, + But only ceaseless sigh and tear? + Why did not he who left me here, + With stolen hope steal memory? + O listen, Ellen, sister dear, + (Mournfully, sing mournfully)-- + I'll go away to Sleamish hill, + I'll pluck the fairy hawthorn-tree, + And let the spirits work their will; + I care not if for good or ill, + So they but lay the memory + Which all my heart is haunting still! + (Mournfully, sing mournfully)-- + The Fairies are a silent race, + And pale as lily flowers to see; + I care not for a blanched face, + For wandering in a dreaming place, + So I but banish memory:-- + I wish I were with Anna Grace!" + Mournfully, sing mournfully! + + Hearken to my tale of woe-- + 'Twas thus to weeping Ellen Con, + Her sister said in accents low, + Her only sister, Una bawn: + 'Twas in their bed before the dawn, + And Ellen answered sad and slow,-- + "Oh Una, Una, be not drawn + (Hearken to my tale of woe)-- + To this unholy grief I pray, + Which makes me sick at heart to know, + And I will help you if I may: + --The Fairy Well of Lagnanay-- + Lie nearer me, I tremble so,-- + Una, I've heard wise women say + (Hearken to my tale of woe)-- + That if before the dews arise, + True maiden in its icy flow + With pure hand bathe her bosom thrice, + Three lady-brackens pluck likewise, + And three times round the fountain go, + She straight forgets her tears and sighs." + Hearken to my tale of woe! + + All, alas! and well-away! + "Oh, sister Ellen, sister sweet, + Come with me to the hill I pray, + And I will prove that blessed freet!" + They rose with soft and silent feet, + They left their mother where she lay, + Their mother and her care discreet, + (All, alas! and well-away!) + And soon they reached the Fairy Well, + The mountain's eye, clear, cold, and grey, + Wide open in the dreary fell: + How long they stood 'twere vain to tell, + At last upon the point of day, + Bawn Una bares her bosom's swell, + (All, alas! and well-away!) + Thrice o'er her shrinking breasts she laves + Of subtly-streaming fairy waves:-- + And now the charm three brackens craves, + She plucks them in their fring'd array:-- + Now round the well her fate she braves, + All, alas! and well-away! + + Save us all from Fairy thrall! + Ellen sees her face the rim + Twice and thrice, and that is all-- + Fount and hill and maiden swim + All together melting dim! + "Una! Una!" thou may'st call, + Sister sad! but lith or limb + (Save us all from Fairy thrall!) + Never again of Una bawn, + Where now she walks in dreamy hall, + Shall eye of mortal look upon! + Oh! can it be the guard was gone, + The better guard than shield or wall? + Who knows on earth save Jurlagh Daune? + (Save us all from Fairy thrall!) + Behold the banks are green and bare, + No pit is here wherein to fall: + Aye--at the fount you well may stare, + But nought save pebbles smooth is there, + And small straws twirling one and all. + Hie thee home, and be thy pray'r, + Save us all from Fairy thrall. + + + + +TEIG O'KANE (TADHG O CÁTHÁN) AND THE CORPSE.[4] + +LITERALLY TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH BY DOUGLAS HYDE. + + + [I found it hard to place Mr. Douglas Hyde's magnificent story. + Among the ghosts or the fairies? It is among the fairies on the + grounds that all these ghosts and bodies were in no manner ghosts + and bodies, but _pishogues_--fairy spells. One often hears of + these visions in Ireland. I have met a man who had lived a wild + life like the man in the story, till a vision came to him in + County ---- one dark night--in no way so terrible a vision as + this, but sufficient to change his whole character. He will not + go out at night. If you speak to him suddenly he trembles. He has + grown timid and strange. He went to the bishop and was sprinkled + with holy water. "It may have come as a warning," said the + bishop; "yet great theologians are of opinion that no man ever + saw an apparition, for no man would survive it."--ED.] + +There was once a grown-up lad in the County Leitrim, and he was strong +and lively, and the son of a rich farmer. His father had plenty of +money, and he did not spare it on the son. Accordingly, when the boy +grew up he liked sport better than work, and, as his father had no +other children, he loved this one so much that he allowed him to do in +everything just as it pleased himself. He was very extravagant, and he +used to scatter the gold money as another person would scatter the +white. He was seldom to be found at home, but if there was a fair, or +a race, or a gathering within ten miles of him, you were dead certain +to find him there. And he seldom spent a night in his father's house, +but he used to be always out rambling, and, like Shawn Bwee long ago, +there was + + "grádh gach cailin i mbrollach a léine," + +"the love of every girl in the breast of his shirt," and it's many's +the kiss he got and he gave, for he was very handsome, and there +wasn't a girl in the country but would fall in love with him, only for +him to fasten his two eyes on her, and it was for that someone made +this _rann_ on him-- + + "Feuch an rógaire 'g iarraidh póige, + Ni h-iongantas mór é a bheith mar atá + Ag leanamhaint a gcómhnuidhe d'árnán na gráineóige + Anuas 's anios 's nna chodladh 'sa' lá." + + _i.e._--"Look at the rogue, its for kisses he's rambling, + It isn't much wonder, for that was his way; + He's like an old hedgehog, at night he'll be scrambling + From this place to that, but he'll sleep in the day." + +At last he became very wild and unruly. He wasn't to be seen day nor +night in his father's house, but always rambling or going on his +_kailee_ (night-visit) from place to place and from house to house, so +that the old people used to shake their heads and say to one another, +"it's easy seen what will happen to the land when the old man dies; +his son will run through it in a year, and it won't stand him that +long itself." + +He used to be always gambling and card-playing and drinking, but his +father never minded his bad habits, and never punished him. But it +happened one day that the old man was told that the son had ruined the +character of a girl in the neighbourhood, and he was greatly angry, +and he called the son to him, and said to him, quietly and +sensibly--"Avic," says he, "you know I loved you greatly up to this, +and I never stopped you from doing your choice thing whatever it was, +and I kept plenty of money with you, and I always hoped to leave you +the house and land, and all I had after myself would be gone; but I +heard a story of you to-day that has disgusted me with you. I cannot +tell you the grief that I felt when I heard such a thing of you, and I +tell you now plainly that unless you marry that girl I'll leave house +and land and everything to my brother's son. I never could leave it to +anyone who would make so bad a use of it as you do yourself, deceiving +women and coaxing girls. Settle with yourself now whether you'll marry +that girl and get my land as a fortune with her, or refuse to marry +her and give up all that was coming to you; and tell me in the morning +which of the two things you have chosen." + +"Och! _Domnoo Sheery!_ father, you wouldn't say that to me, and I such +a good son as I am. Who told you I wouldn't marry the girl?" says he. + +But his father was gone, and the lad knew well enough that he would +keep his word too; and he was greatly troubled in his mind, for as +quiet and as kind as the father was, he never went back of a word that +he had once said, and there wasn't another man in the country who was +harder to bend than he was. + +The boy did not know rightly what to do. He was in love with the girl +indeed, and he hoped to marry her sometime or other, but he would much +sooner have remained another while as he was, and follow on at his old +tricks--drinking, sporting, and playing cards; and, along with that, +he was angry that his father should order him to marry, and should +threaten him if he did not do it. + +"Isn't my father a great fool," says he to himself. "I was ready +enough, and only too anxious, to marry Mary; and now since he +threatened me, faith I've a great mind to let it go another while." + +His mind was so much excited that he remained between two notions as +to what he should do. He walked out into the night at last to cool his +heated blood, and went on to the road. He lit a pipe, and as the night +was fine he walked and walked on, until the quick pace made him begin +to forget his trouble. The night was bright, and the moon half full. +There was not a breath of wind blowing, and the air was calm and mild. +He walked on for nearly three hours, when he suddenly remembered that +it was late in the night, and time for him to turn. "Musha! I think I +forgot myself," says he; "it must be near twelve o'clock now." + +The word was hardly out of his mouth, when he heard the sound of many +voices, and the trampling of feet on the road before him. "I don't +know who can be out so late at night as this, and on such a lonely +road," said he to himself. + +He stood listening, and he heard the voices of many people talking +through other, but he could not understand what they were saying. "Oh, +wirra!" says he, "I'm afraid. It's not Irish or English they have; it +can't be they're Frenchmen!" He went on a couple of yards further, and +he saw well enough by the light of the moon a band of little people +coming towards him, and they were carrying something big and heavy +with them. "Oh, murder!" says he to himself, "sure it can't be that +they're the good people that's in it!" Every _rib_ of hair that was on +his head stood up, and there fell a shaking on his bones, for he saw +that they were coming to him fast. + +He looked at them again, and perceived that there were about twenty +little men in it, and there was not a man at all of them higher than +about three feet or three feet and a half, and some of them were grey, +and seemed very old. He looked again, but he could not make out what +was the heavy thing they were carrying until they came up to him, and +then they all stood round about him. They threw the heavy thing down +on the road, and he saw on the spot that it was a dead body. + +He became as cold as the Death, and there was not a drop of blood +running in his veins when an old little grey _maneen_ came up to him +and said, "Isn't it lucky we met you, Teig O'Kane?" + +Poor Teig could not bring out a word at all, nor open his lips, if he +were to get the world for it, and so he gave no answer. + +"Teig O'Kane," said the little grey man again, "isn't it timely you +met us?" + +Teig could not answer him. + +"Teig O'Kane," says he, "the third time, isn't it lucky and timely +that we met you?" + +But Teig remained silent, for he was afraid to return an answer, and +his tongue was as if it was tied to the roof of his mouth. + +The little grey man turned to his companions, and there was joy in his +bright little eye. "And now," says he, "Teig O'Kane hasn't a word, we +can do with him what we please. Teig, Teig," says he, "you're living a +bad life, and we can make a slave of you now, and you cannot withstand +us, for there's no use in trying to go against us. Lift that corpse." + +Teig was so frightened that he was only able to utter the two words, +"I won't;" for as frightened as he was, he was obstinate and stiff, +the same as ever. + +"Teig O'Kane won't lift the corpse," said the little _maneen_, with a +wicked little laugh, for all the world like the breaking of a _lock_ +of dry _kippeens_, and with a little harsh voice like the striking of +a cracked bell. "Teig O'Kane won't lift the corpse--make him lift it;" +and before the word was out of his mouth they had all gathered round +poor Teig, and they all talking and laughing through other. + +Teig tried to run from them, but they followed him, and a man of them +stretched out his foot before him as he ran, so that Teig was thrown in +a heap on the road. Then before he could rise up the fairies caught him, +some by the hands and some by the feet, and they held him tight, in a +way that he could not stir, with his face against the ground. Six or +seven of them raised the body then, and pulled it over to him, and left +it down on his back. The breast of the corpse was squeezed against +Teig's back and shoulders, and the arms of the corpse were thrown around +Teig's neck. Then they stood back from him a couple of yards, and let +him get up. He rose, foaming at the mouth and cursing, and he shook +himself, thinking to throw the corpse off his back. But his fear and his +wonder were great when he found that the two arms had a tight hold round +his own neck, and that the two legs were squeezing his hips firmly, and +that, however strongly he tried, he could not throw it off, any more +than a horse can throw off its saddle. He was terribly frightened then, +and he thought he was lost. "Ochone! for ever," said he to himself, +"it's the bad life I'm leading that has given the good people this power +over me. I promise to God and Mary, Peter and Paul, Patrick and Bridget, +that I'll mend my ways for as long as I have to live, if I come clear +out of this danger--and I'll marry the girl." + +The little grey man came up to him again, and said he to him, "Now, +Teig_een_," says he, "you didn't lift the body when I told you to lift +it, and see how you were made to lift it; perhaps when I tell you to +bury it you won't bury it until you're made to bury it!" + +"Anything at all that I can do for your honour," said Teig, "I'll do +it," for he was getting sense already, and if it had not been for the +great fear that was on him, he never would have let that civil word +slip out of his mouth. + +The little man laughed a sort of laugh again. "You're getting quiet +now, Teig," says he. "I'll go bail but you'll be quiet enough before +I'm done with you. Listen to me now, Teig O'Kane, and if you don't +obey me in all I'm telling you to do, you'll repent it. You must carry +with you this corpse that is on your back to Teampoll-Démus, and you +must bring it into the church with you, and make a grave for it in the +very middle of the church, and you must raise up the flags and put +them down again the very same way, and you must carry the clay out of +the church and leave the place as it was when you came, so that no one +could know that there had been anything changed. But that's not all. +Maybe that the body won't be allowed to be buried in that church; +perhaps some other man has the bed, and, if so, it's likely he won't +share it with this one. If you don't get leave to bury it in +Teampoll-Démus, you must carry it to Carrick-fhad-vic-Orus, and bury +it in the churchyard there; and if you don't get it into that place, +take it with you to Teampoll-Ronan; and if that churchyard is closed +on you, take it to Imlogue-Fada; and if you're not able to bury it +there, you've no more to do than to take it to Kill-Breedya, and you +can bury it there without hindrance. I cannot tell you what one of +those churches is the one where you will have leave to bury that +corpse under the clay, but I know that it will be allowed you to bury +him at some church or other of them. If you do this work rightly, we +will be thankful to you, and you will have no cause to grieve; but if +you are slow or lazy, believe me we shall take satisfaction of you." + +When the grey little man had done speaking, his comrades laughed and +clapped their hands together. "Glic! Glic! Hwee! Hwee!" they all cried; +"go on, go on, you have eight hours before you till daybreak, and if you +haven't this man buried before the sun rises, you're lost." They struck +a fist and a foot behind on him, and drove him on in the road. He was +obliged to walk, and to walk fast, for they gave him no rest. + +He thought himself that there was not a wet path, or a dirty _boreen_, +or a crooked contrary road in the whole county, that he had not walked +that night. The night was at times very dark, and whenever there would +come a cloud across the moon he could see nothing, and then he used +often to fall. Sometimes he was hurt, and sometimes he escaped, but he +was obliged always to rise on the moment and to hurry on. Sometimes +the moon would break out clearly, and then he would look behind him +and see the little people following at his back. And he heard them +speaking amongst themselves, talking and crying out, and screaming +like a flock of sea-gulls; and if he was to save his soul he never +understood as much as one word of what they were saying. + +He did not know how far he had walked, when at last one of them cried +out to him, "Stop here!" He stood, and they all gathered round him. + +"Do you see those withered trees over there?" says the old boy to him +again. "Teampoll-Démus is among those trees, and you must go in there +by yourself, for we cannot follow you or go with you. We must remain +here. Go on boldly." + +Teig looked from him, and he saw a high wall that was in places half +broken down, and an old grey church on the inside of the wall, and +about a dozen withered old trees scattered here and there round it. +There was neither leaf nor twig on any of them, but their bare crooked +branches were stretched out like the arms of an angry man when he +threatens. He had no help for it, but was obliged to go forward. He +was a couple of hundred yards from the church, but he walked on, and +never looked behind him until he came to the gate of the churchyard. +The old gate was thrown down, and he had no difficulty in entering. He +turned then to see if any of the little people were following him, but +there came a cloud over the moon, and the night became so dark that he +could see nothing. He went into the churchyard, and he walked up the +old grassy pathway leading to the church. When he reached the door, he +found it locked. The door was large and strong, and he did not know +what to do. At last he drew out his knife with difficulty, and stuck +it in the wood to try if it were not rotten, but it was not. + +"Now," said he to himself, "I have no more to do; the door is shut, +and I can't open it." + +Before the words were rightly shaped in his own mind, a voice in his +ear said to him, "Search for the key on the top of the door, or on the +wall." + +He started. "Who is that speaking to me?" he cried, turning round; but +he saw no one. The voice said in his ear again, "Search for the key +on the top of the door, or on the wall." + +"What's that?" said he, and the sweat running from his forehead; "who +spoke to me?" + +"It's I, the corpse, that spoke to you!" said the voice. + +"Can you talk?" said Teig. + +"Now and again," said the corpse. + +Teig searched for the key, and he found it on the top of the wall. He +was too much frightened to say any more, but he opened the door wide, +and as quickly as he could, and he went in, with the corpse on his +back. It was as dark as pitch inside, and poor Teig began to shake and +tremble. + +"Light the candle," said the corpse. + +Teig put his hand in his pocket, as well as he was able, and drew out +a flint and steel. He struck a spark out of it, and lit a burnt rag he +had in his pocket. He blew it until it made a flame, and he looked +round him. The church was very ancient, and part of the wall was +broken down. The windows were blown in or cracked, and the timber of +the seats was rotten. There were six or seven old iron candlesticks +left there still, and in one of these candlesticks Teig found the +stump of an old candle, and he lit it. He was still looking round him +on the strange and horrid place in which he found himself, when the +cold corpse whispered in his ear, "Bury me now, bury me now; there is +a spade and turn the ground." Teig looked from him, and he saw a spade +lying beside the altar. He took it up, and he placed the blade under a +flag that was in the middle of the aisle, and leaning all his weight +on the handle of the spade, he raised it. When the first flag was +raised it was not hard to raise the others near it, and he moved three +or four of them out of their places. The clay that was under them was +soft and easy to dig, but he had not thrown up more than three or four +shovelfuls, when he felt the iron touch something soft like flesh. He +threw up three or four more shovelfuls from around it, and then he saw +that it was another body that was buried in the same place. + +"I am afraid I'll never be allowed to bury the two bodies in the same +hole," said Teig, in his own mind. "You corpse, there on my back," +says he, "will you be satisfied if I bury you down here?" But the +corpse never answered him a word. + +"That's a good sign," said Teig to himself. "Maybe he's getting +quiet," and he thrust the spade down in the earth again. Perhaps he +hurt the flesh of the other body, for the dead man that was buried +there stood up in the grave, and shouted an awful shout. "Hoo! hoo!! +hoo!!! Go! go!! go!!! or you're a dead, dead, dead man!" And then he +fell back in the grave again. Teig said afterwards, that of all the +wonderful things he saw that night, that was the most awful to him. +His hair stood upright on his head like the bristles of a pig, the +cold sweat ran off his face, and then came a tremour over all his +bones, until he thought that he must fall. + +But after a while he became bolder, when he saw that the second corpse +remained lying quietly there, and he threw in the clay on it again, and +he smoothed it overhead and he laid down the flags carefully as they had +been before. "It can't be that he'll rise up any more," said he. + +He went down the aisle a little further, and drew near to the door, +and began raising the flags again, looking for another bed for the +corpse on his back. He took up three or four flags and put them aside, +and then he dug the clay. He was not long digging until he laid bare +an old woman without a thread upon her but her shirt. She was more +lively than the first corpse, for he had scarcely taken any of the +clay away from about her, when she sat up and began to cry, "Ho, you +_bodach_ (clown)! Ha, you _bodach_! Where has he been that he got no +bed?" + +Poor Teig drew back, and when she found that she was getting no answer, +she closed her eyes gently, lost her vigour, and fell back quietly and +slowly under the clay. Teig did to her as he had done to the man--he +threw the clay back on her, and left the flags down overhead. + +He began digging again near the door, but before he had thrown up +more than a couple of shovelfuls, he noticed a man's hand laid bare by +the spade. "By my soul, I'll go no further, then," said he to himself; +"what use is it for me?" And he threw the clay in again on it, and +settled the flags as they had been before. + +He left the church then, and his heart was heavy enough, but he shut +the door and locked it, and left the key where he found it. He sat +down on a tombstone that was near the door, and began thinking. He was +in great doubt what he should do. He laid his face between his two +hands, and cried for grief and fatigue, since he was dead certain at +this time that he never would come home alive. He made another attempt +to loosen the hands of the corpse that were squeezed round his neck, +but they were as tight as if they were clamped; and the more he tried +to loosen them, the tighter they squeezed him. He was going to sit +down once more, when the cold, horrid lips of the dead man said to +him, "Carrick-fhad-vic-Orus," and he remembered the command of the +good people to bring the corpse with him to that place if he should be +unable to bury it where he had been. + +He rose up, and looked about him. "I don't know the way," he said. + +As soon as he had uttered the word, the corpse stretched out suddenly +its left hand that had been tightened round his neck, and kept it +pointing out, showing him the road he ought to follow. Teig went in +the direction that the fingers were stretched, and passed out of the +churchyard. He found himself on an old rutty, stony road, and he stood +still again, not knowing where to turn. The corpse stretched out its +bony hand a second time, and pointed out to him another road--not the +road by which he had come when approaching the old church. Teig +followed that road, and whenever he came to a path or road meeting it, +the corpse always stretched out its hand and pointed with its fingers, +showing him the way he was to take. + +Many was the cross-road he turned down, and many was the crooked +_boreen_ he walked, until he saw from him an old burying-ground at +last, beside the road, but there was neither church nor chapel nor any +other building in it. The corpse squeezed him tightly, and he stood. +"Bury me, bury me in the burying-ground," said the voice. + +Teig drew over towards the old burying-place, and he was not more than +about twenty yards from it, when, raising his eyes, he saw hundreds +and hundreds of ghosts--men, women, and children--sitting on the top +of the wall round about, or standing on the inside of it, or running +backwards and forwards, and pointing at him, while he could see their +mouths opening and shutting as if they were speaking, though he heard +no word, nor any sound amongst them at all. + +He was afraid to go forward, so he stood where he was, and the moment +he stood, all the ghosts became quiet, and ceased moving. Then Teig +understood that it was trying to keep him from going in, that they +were. He walked a couple of yards forwards, and immediately the whole +crowd rushed together towards the spot to which he was moving, and +they stood so thickly together that it seemed to him that he never +could break through them, even though he had a mind to try. But he had +no mind to try it. He went back broken and dispirited, and when he had +gone a couple of hundred yards from the burying-ground, he stood +again, for he did not know what way he was to go. He heard the voice +of the corpse in his ear, saying "Teampoll-Ronan," and the skinny hand +was stretched out again, pointing him out the road. + +As tired as he was, he had to walk, and the road was neither short nor +even. The night was darker than ever, and it was difficult to make his +way. Many was the toss he got, and many a bruise they left on his +body. At last he saw Teampoll-Ronan from him in the distance, standing +in the middle of the burying-ground. He moved over towards it, and +thought he was all right and safe, when he saw no ghosts nor anything +else on the wall, and he thought he would never be hindered now from +leaving his load off him at last. He moved over to the gate, but as +he was passing in, he tripped on the threshold. Before he could +recover himself, something that he could not see seized him by the +neck, by the hands, and by the feet, and bruised him, and shook him, +and choked him, until he was nearly dead; and at last he was lifted +up, and carried more than a hundred yards from that place, and then +thrown down in an old dyke, with the corpse still clinging to him. + +He rose up, bruised and sore, but feared to go near the place again, +for he had seen nothing the time he was thrown down and carried away. + +"You corpse, up on my back," said he, "shall I go over again to the +churchyard?"--but the corpse never answered him. "That's a sign you +don't wish me to try it again," said Teig. + +He was now in great doubt as to what he ought to do, when the corpse +spoke in his ear, and said "Imlogue-Fada." + +"Oh, murder!" said Teig, "must I bring you there? If you keep me long +walking like this, I tell you I'll fall under you." + +He went on, however, in the direction the corpse pointed out to him. +He could not have told, himself, how long he had been going, when the +dead man behind suddenly squeezed him, and said, "There!" + +Teig looked from him, and he saw a little low wall, that was so broken +down in places that it was no wall at all. It was in a great wide +field, in from the road; and only for three or four great stones at +the corners, that were more like rocks than stones, there was nothing +to show that there was either graveyard or burying-ground there. + +"Is this Imlogue-Fada? Shall I bury you here?" said Teig. + +"Yes," said the voice. + +"But I see no grave or gravestone, only this pile of stones," said Teig. + +The corpse did not answer, but stretched out its long fleshless hand, +to show Teig the direction in which he was to go. Teig went on +accordingly, but he was greatly terrified, for he remembered what had +happened to him at the last place. He went on, "with his heart in his +mouth," as he said himself afterwards; but when he came to within +fifteen or twenty yards of the little low square wall, there broke out +a flash of lightning, bright yellow and red, with blue streaks in it, +and went round about the wall in one course, and it swept by as fast +as the swallow in the clouds, and the longer Teig remained looking at +it the faster it went, till at last it became like a bright ring of +flame round the old graveyard, which no one could pass without being +burnt by it. Teig never saw, from the time he was born, and never saw +afterwards, so wonderful or so splendid a sight as that was. Round +went the flame, white and yellow and blue sparks leaping out from it +as it went, and although at first it had been no more than a thin, +narrow line, it increased slowly until it was at last a great broad +band, and it was continually getting broader and higher, and throwing +out more brilliant sparks, till there was never a colour on the ridge +of the earth that was not to be seen in that fire; and lightning never +shone and flame never flamed that was so shining and so bright as that. + +Teig was amazed; he was half dead with fatigue, and he had no courage +left to approach the wall. There fell a mist over his eyes, and there +came a _soorawn_ in his head, and he was obliged to sit down upon a +great stone to recover himself. He could see nothing but the light, +and he could hear nothing but the whirr of it as it shot round the +paddock faster than a flash of lightning. + +As he sat there on the stone, the voice whispered once more in his +ear, "Kill-Breedya;" and the dead man squeezed him so tightly that he +cried out. He rose again, sick, tired, and trembling, and went +forwards as he was directed. The wind was cold, and the road was bad, +and the load upon his back was heavy, and the night was dark, and he +himself was nearly worn out, and if he had had very much farther to go +he must have fallen dead under his burden. + +At last the corpse stretched out its hand, and said to him, "Bury me +there." + +"This is the last burying-place," said Teig in his own mind; "and the +little grey man said I'd be allowed to bury him in some of them, so it +must be this; it can't be but they'll let him in here." + +The first faint streak of the _ring of day_ was appearing in the east, +and the clouds were beginning to catch fire, but it was darker than +ever, for the moon was set, and there were no stars. + +"Make haste, make haste!" said the corpse; and Teig hurried forward as +well as he could to the graveyard, which was a little place on a bare +hill, with only a few graves in it. He walked boldly in through the +open gate, and nothing touched him, nor did he either hear or see +anything. He came to the middle of the ground, and then stood up and +looked round him for a spade or shovel to make a grave. As he was +turning round and searching, he suddenly perceived what startled him +greatly--a newly-dug grave right before him. He moved over to it, and +looked down, and there at the bottom he saw a black coffin. He +clambered down into the hole and lifted the lid, and found that (as he +thought it would be) the coffin was empty. He had hardly mounted up +out of the hole, and was standing on the brink, when the corpse, which +had clung to him for more than eight hours, suddenly relaxed its hold +of his neck, and loosened its shins from round his hips, and sank down +with a _plop_ into the open coffin. + +Teig fell down on his two knees at the brink of the grave, and gave +thanks to God. He made no delay then, but pressed down the coffin lid +in its place, and threw in the clay over it with his two hands; and +when the grave was filled up, he stamped and leaped on it with his +feet, until it was firm and hard, and then he left the place. + +The sun was fast rising as he finished his work, and the first thing +he did was to return to the road, and look out for a house to rest +himself in. He found an inn at last, and lay down upon a bed there, +and slept till night. Then he rose up and ate a little, and fell +asleep again till morning. When he awoke in the morning he hired a +horse and rode home. He was more than twenty-six miles from home where +he was, and he had come all that way with the dead body on his back in +one night. + +All the people at his own home thought that he must have left the +country, and they rejoiced greatly when they saw him come back. +Everyone began asking him where he had been, but he would not tell +anyone except his father. + +He was a changed man from that day. He never drank too much; he never +lost his money over cards; and especially he would not take the world +and be out late by himself of a dark night. + +He was not a fortnight at home until he married Mary, the girl he had +been in love with; and it's at their wedding the sport was, and it's +he was the happy man from that day forward, and it's all I wish that +we may be as happy as he was. + + GLOSSARY.--_Rann_, a stanza; _kailee (céilidhe)_, a visit in the + evening; _wirra (a mhuire)_, "Oh, Mary!" an exclamation like the + French _dame_; _rib_, a single hair (in Irish, _ribe_); _a lock + (glac)_, a bundle or wisp, or a little share of anything; + _kippeen (cipín)_, a rod or twig; _boreen (bóithrín)_ a lane; + _bodach_, a clown; _soorawn (suarán)_, vertigo. _Avic (a Mhic)_ = + son, or rather, Oh, son. Mic is the vocative of Mac. + +[Footnote 4: None of Mr. Hyde's stories here given have been published +before. They will be printed in the original Irish in his forthcoming +_Leabhar Sgeulaigheachta_ (Gill, Dublin).] + + + + +PADDY CORCORAN'S WIFE. + +William Carleton. + + +Paddy Corcoran's wife was for several years afflicted with a kind of +complaint which nobody could properly understand. She was sick, and she +was not sick; she was well, and she was not well; she was as ladies wish +to be who love their lords, and she was not as such ladies wish to be. +In fact nobody could tell what the matter with her was. She had a +gnawing at the heart which came heavily upon her husband; for, with the +help of God, a keener appetite than the same gnawing amounted to could +not be met with of a summer's day. The poor woman was delicate beyond +belief, and had no appetite at all, so she hadn't, barring a little +relish for a mutton-chop, or a "staik," or a bit o' mait, anyway; for +sure, God help her! she hadn't the laist inclination for the dhry +pratie, or the dhrop o' sour buttermilk along wid it, especially as she +was so poorly; and, indeed, for a woman in her condition--for, sick as +she was, poor Paddy always was made to believe her in _that_ +condition--but God's will be done! she didn't care. A pratie an' a grain +o' salt was a welcome to her--glory be to his name!--as the best roast +an' boiled that ever was dressed; and why not? There was one comfort: +she wouldn't be long wid him--long troublin' him; it matthered little +what she got; but sure she knew herself, that from the gnawin' at her +heart, she could never do good widout the little bit o' mait now and +then; an', sure, if her own husband begridged it to her, who else had +she a better right to expect it from? + +Well, as we have said, she lay a bedridden invalid for long enough, +trying doctors and quacks of all sorts, sexes, and sizes, and all +without a farthing's benefit, until, at the long run, poor Paddy was +nearly brought to the last pass, in striving to keep her in "the bit +o' mait." The seventh year was now on the point of closing, when, one +harvest day, as she lay bemoaning her hard condition, on her bed +beyond the kitchen fire, a little weeshy woman, dressed in a neat red +cloak, comes in, and, sitting down by the hearth, says:-- + +"Well, Kitty Corcoran, you've had a long lair of it there on the broad +o' yer back for seven years, an' you're jist as far from bein' cured +as ever." + +"Mavrone, ay," said the other; "in throth that's what I was this +minnit thinkin' ov, and a sorrowful thought it's to me." + +"It's yer own fau't, thin," says the little woman; "an', indeed, for +that matter, it's yer fau't that ever you wor there at all." + +"Arra, how is that?" asked Kitty; "sure I wouldn't be here if I could +help it? Do you think it's a comfort or a pleasure to me to be sick +and bedridden?" + +"No," said the other, "I do not; but I'll tell you the truth: for the +last seven years you have been annoying us. I am one o' the good +people; an' as I have a regard for you, I'm come to let you know the +raison why you've been sick so long as you are. For all the time +you've been ill, if you'll take the thrubble to remimber, your +childhre threwn out yer dirty wather afther dusk an' before sunrise, +at the very time we're passin' yer door, which we pass twice a-day. +Now, if you avoid this, if you throw it out in a different place, an' +at a different time, the complaint you have will lave you: so will the +gnawin' at the heart; an' you'll be as well as ever you wor. If you +don't follow this advice, why, remain as you are, an' all the art o' +man can't cure you." She then bade her good-bye, and disappeared. + +Kitty, who was glad to be cured on such easy terms, immediately +complied with the injunction of the fairy; and the consequence was, +that the next day she found herself in as good health as ever she +enjoyed during her life. + + + + +CUSHEEN LOO. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH BY J. J. CALLANAN. + + + [This song is supposed to have been sung by a young bride, who + was forcibly detained in one of those forts which are so common + in Ireland, and to which the good people are very fond of + resorting. Under pretence of hushing her child to rest, she + retired to the outside margin of the fort, and addressed the + burthen of her song to a young woman whom she saw at a short + distance, and whom she requested to inform her husband of her + condition, and to desire him to bring the steel knife to dissolve + the enchantment.] + + Sleep, my child! for the rustling trees, + Stirr'd by the breath of summer breeze, + And fairy songs of sweetest note, + Around us gently float. + + Sleep! for the weeping flowers have shed + Their fragrant tears upon thy head, + The voice of love hath sooth'd thy rest, + And thy pillow is a mother's breast. + Sleep, my child! + + Weary hath pass'd the time forlorn, + Since to your mansion I was borne, + Tho' bright the feast of its airy halls, + And the voice of mirth resounds from its walls. + Sleep, my child! + + Full many a maid and blooming bride + Within that splendid dome abide,-- + And many a hoar and shrivell'd sage, + And many a matron bow'd with age. + Sleep, my child! + + Oh! thou who hearest this song of fear, + To the mourner's home these tidings bear. + Bid him bring the knife of the magic blade, + At whose lightning-flash the charm will fade. + Sleep, my child! + + Haste! for to-morrow's sun will see + The hateful spell renewed for me; + Nor can I from that home depart, + Till life shall leave my withering heart. + Sleep, my child! + + Sleep, my child! for the rustling trees, + Stirr'd by the breath of summer breeze, + And fairy songs of sweetest note, + Around us gently float. + + + + +THE WHITE TROUT; A LEGEND OF CONG. + +BY S. LOVER. + + +There was wanst upon a time, long ago, a beautiful lady that lived in +a castle upon the lake beyant, and they say she was promised to a +king's son, and they wor to be married, when all of a sudden he was +murthered, the crathur (Lord help us), and threwn into the lake above, +and so, of course, he couldn't keep his promise to the fair lady,--and +more's the pity. + +Well, the story goes that she went out iv her mind, bekase av loosin' +the king's son--for she was tendher-hearted, God help her, like the rest +iv us!--and pined away after him, until at last, no one about seen her, +good or bad; and the story wint that the fairies took her away. + +Well, sir, in coorse o' time, the White Throut, God bless it, was seen +in the sthrame beyant, and sure the people didn't know what to think +av the crathur, seein' as how a _white_ throut was never heard av +afor, nor since; and years upon years the throut was there, just where +you seen it this blessed minit, longer nor I can tell--aye throth, and +beyant the memory o' th' ouldest in the village. + +At last the people began to think it must be a fairy; for what else +could it be?--and no hurt nor harm was iver put an the white throut, +until some wicked sinners of sojers kem to these parts, and laughed at +all the people, and gibed and jeered them for thinkin' o' the likes; +and one o' them in partic'lar (bad luck to him; God forgi' me for +saying it!) swore he'd catch the throut and ate it for his dinner--the +blackguard! + +Well, what would you think o' the villainy of the sojer? Sure enough +he cotch the throut, and away wid him home, and puts an the +fryin'-pan, and into it he pitches the purty little thing. The throut +squeeled all as one as a christian crathur, and, my dear, you'd think +the sojer id split his sides laughin'--for he was a harden'd villain; +and when he thought one side was done, he turns it over to fry the +other; and, what would you think, but the divil a taste of a burn was +an it at all at all; and sure the sojer thought it was a _quare_ +throut that could not be briled. "But," says he, "I'll give it another +turn by-and-by," little thinkin' what was in store for him, the +haythen. + +Well, when he thought that side was done he turns it agin, and lo and +behould you, the divil a taste more done that side was nor the other. +"Bad luck to me," says the sojer, "but that bates the world," says he; +"but I'll thry you agin, my darlint," says he, "as cunnin' as you +think yourself;" and so with that he turns it over and over, but not a +sign of the fire was on the purty throut. "Well," says the desperate +villain--(for sure, sir, only he was a desperate villain _entirely_, +he might know he was doing a wrong thing, seein' that all his +endeavours was no good)--"Well," says he, "my jolly little throut, +maybe you're fried enough, though you don't seem over well dress'd; +but you may be better than you look, like a singed cat, and a tit-bit +afther all," says he; and with that he ups with his knife and fork to +taste a piece o' the throut; but, my jew'l, the minit he puts his +knife into the fish, there was a murtherin' screech, that you'd think +the life id lave you if you hurd it, and away jumps the throut out av +the fryin'-pan into the middle o' the flure; and an the spot where it +fell, up riz a lovely lady--the beautifullest crathur that eyes ever +seen, dressed in white, and a band o' goold in her hair, and a sthrame +o' blood runnin' down her arm. + +"Look where you cut me, you villain," says she, and she held out her +arm to him--and, my dear, he thought the sight id lave his eyes. + +"Couldn't you lave me cool and comfortable in the river where you +snared me, and not disturb me in my duty?" says she. + +Well, he thrimbled like a dog in a wet sack, and at last he stammered +out somethin', and begged for his life, and ax'd her ladyship's +pardin, and said he didn't know she was on duty, or he was too good a +sojer not to know betther nor to meddle wid her. + +"I _was_ on duty, then," says the lady; "I was watchin' for my true love +that is comin' by wather to me," says she, "an' if he comes while I'm +away, an' that I miss iv him, I'll turn you into a pinkeen, and I'll +hunt you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or wather runs." + +Well the sojer thought the life id lave him, at the thoughts iv his +bein' turned into a pinkeen, and begged for mercy; and with that says +the lady-- + +"Renounce your evil coorses," says she, "you villain, or you'll repint +it too late; be a good man for the futhur, and go to your duty[5] +reg'lar, and now," says she, "take me back and put me into the river +again, where you found me." + +"Oh, my lady," says the sojer, "how could I have the heart to drownd a +beautiful lady like you?" + +But before he could say another word, the lady was vanished, and there +he saw the little throut an the ground. Well he put it in a clean plate, +and away he runs for the bare life, for fear her lover would come while +she was away; and he run, and he run, even till he came to the cave +agin, and threw the throut into the river. The minit he did, the wather +was as red as blood for a little while, by rayson av the cut, I suppose, +until the sthrame washed the stain away; and to this day there's a +little red mark an the throut's side, where it was cut.[6] + +Well, sir, from that day out the sojer was an altered man, and +reformed his ways, and went to his duty reg'lar, and fasted three +times a-week--though it was never fish he tuk an fastin' days, for +afther the fright he got, fish id never rest an his stomach--savin' +your presence. + +But anyhow, he was an altered man, as I said before, and in coorse o' +time he left the army, and turned hermit at last; and they say he +_used to pray evermore for the soul of the White Throut_. + + [These trout stories are common all over Ireland. Many holy wells + are haunted by such blessed trout. There is a trout in a well on + the border of Lough Gill, Sligo, that some paganish person put + once on the gridiron. It carries the marks to this day. Long ago, + the saint who sanctified the well put that trout there. Nowadays + it is only visible to the pious, who have done due penance.] + +[Footnote 5: The Irish peasant calls his attendance at the +confessional "going to his duty."] + +[Footnote 6: The fish has really a red spot on its side.] + + + + +THE FAIRY THORN. + +_An Ulster Ballad._ + +SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON. + + + "Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning-wheel; + For your father's on the hill, and your mother is asleep; + Come up above the crags, and we'll dance a highland-reel + Around the fairy thorn on the steep." + + At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried, + Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green; + And Anna laid the rock and the weary wheel aside, + The fairest of the four, I ween. + + They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve, + Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare; + The heavy-sliding stream in its sleepy song they leave, + And the crags in the ghostly air: + + And linking hand in hand, and singing as they go, + The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way, + Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty grow + Beside the Fairy Hawthorn grey. + + The Hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim, + Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee; + The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dim + In ruddy kisses sweet to see. + + The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row, + Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem, + And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go, + Oh, never caroll'd bird like them! + + But solemn is the silence of the silvery haze + That drinks away their voices in echoless repose, + And dreamily the evening has still'd the haunted braes, + And dreamier the gloaming grows. + + And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the sky + When the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw, + Are hush'd the maiden's voices, as cowering down they lie + In the flutter of their sudden awe. + + For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath, + And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between, + A Power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe, + And they sink down together on the green. + + They sink together silent, and stealing side by side, + They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair, + Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide, + For their shrinking necks again are bare. + + Thus clasp'd and prostrate all, with their heads together bow'd, + Soft o'er their bosom's beating--the only human sound-- + They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd, + Like a river in the air, gliding round. + + No scream can any raise, no prayer can any say, + But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three-- + For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away, + By whom they dare not look to see. + + They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold, + And the curls elastic falling as her head withdraws; + They feel her sliding arms from their tranced arms unfold, + But they may not look to see the cause: + + For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment lies + Through all that night of anguish and perilous amaze; + And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyes, + Or their limbs from the cold ground raise, + + Till out of night the earth has roll'd her dewy side, + With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below; + When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning tide, + The maidens' trance dissolveth so. + + Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may, + And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain-- + They pined away and died within the year and day, + And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again. + + + + +THE LEGEND OF KNOCKGRAFTON. + +T. CROFTON CROCKER. + + +There was once a poor man who lived in the fertile glen of Aherlow, at +the foot of the gloomy Galtee mountains, and he had a great hump on +his back: he looked just as if his body had been rolled up and placed +upon his shoulders; and his head was pressed down with the weight so +much that his chin, when he was sitting, used to rest upon his knees +for support. The country people were rather shy of meeting him in any +lonesome place, for though, poor creature, he was as harmless and as +inoffensive as a newborn infant, yet his deformity was so great that +he scarcely appeared to be a human creature, and some ill-minded +persons had set strange stories about him afloat. He was said to have +a great knowledge of herbs and charms; but certain it was that he had +a mighty skilful hand in plaiting straws and rushes into hats and +baskets, which was the way he made his livelihood. + +Lusmore, for that was the nickname put upon him by reason of his +always wearing a sprig of the fairy cap, or lusmore (the foxglove), in +his little straw hat, would ever get a higher penny for his plaited +work than any one else, and perhaps that was the reason why some one, +out of envy, had circulated the strange stories about him. Be that as +it may, it happened that he was returning one evening from the pretty +town of Cahir towards Cappagh, and as little Lusmore walked very +slowly, on account of the great hump upon his back, it was quite dark +when he came to the old moat of Knockgrafton, which stood on the +right-hand side of his road. Tired and weary was he, and noways +comfortable in his own mind at thinking how much farther he had to +travel, and that he should be walking all the night; so he sat down +under the moat to rest himself, and began looking mournfully enough +upon the moon, which-- + + "Rising in clouded majesty, at length + Apparent Queen, unveil'd her peerless light, + And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw." + +Presently there rose a wild strain of unearthly melody upon the ear of +little Lusmore; he listened, and he thought that he had never heard +such ravishing music before. It was like the sound of many voices, +each mingling and blending with the other so strangely that they +seemed to be one, though all singing different strains, and the words +of the song were these-- + + _Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort;_ + +when there would be a moment's pause, and then the round of melody +went on again. + +Lusmore listened attentively, scarcely drawing his breath lest he might +lose the slightest note. He now plainly perceived that the singing was +within the moat; and though at first it had charmed him so much, he +began to get tired of hearing the same round sung over and over so often +without any change; so availing himself of the pause when _Da Luan, Da +Mort_, had been sung three times, he took up the tune, and raised it +with the words _augus Da Dardeen_, and then went on singing with the +voices inside of the moat, _Da Luan, Da Mort_, finishing the melody, +when the pause again came, with _augus Da Dardeen_. + +The fairies within Knockgrafton, for the song was a fairy melody, when +they heard this addition to the tune, were so much delighted that, +with instant resolve, it was determined to bring the mortal among +them, whose musical skill so far exceeded theirs, and little Lusmore +was conveyed into their company with the eddying speed of a whirlwind. + +Glorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him as he came down +through the moat, twirling round and round, with the lightness of a +straw, to the sweetest music that kept time to his motion. The +greatest honour was then paid him, for he was put above all the +musicians, and he had servants tending upon him, and everything to his +heart's content, and a hearty welcome to all; and, in short, he was +made as much of as if he had been the first man in the land. + +Presently Lusmore saw a great consultation going forward among the +fairies, and, notwithstanding all their civility, he felt very much +frightened, until one stepping out from the rest came up to him and +said-- + + "Lusmore! Lusmore! + Doubt not, nor deplore, + For the hump which you bore + On your back is no more; + Look down on the floor, + And view it, Lusmore!" + +When these words were said, poor little Lusmore felt himself so light, +and so happy, that he thought he could have bounded at one jump over +the moon, like the cow in the history of the cat and the fiddle; and +he saw, with inexpressible pleasure, his hump tumble down upon the +ground from his shoulders. He then tried to lift up his head, and he +did so with becoming caution, fearing that he might knock it against +the ceiling of the grand hall, where he was; he looked round and round +again with the greatest wonder and delight upon everything, which +appeared more and more beautiful; and, overpowered at beholding such a +resplendent scene, his head grew dizzy, and his eyesight became dim. +At last he fell into a sound sleep, and when he awoke he found that it +was broad daylight, the sun shining brightly, and the birds singing +sweetly; and that he was lying just at the foot of the moat of +Knockgrafton, with the cows and sheep grazing peaceably round about +him. The first thing Lusmore did, after saying his prayers, was to put +his hand behind to feel for his hump, but no sign of one was there on +his back, and he looked at himself with great pride, for he had now +become a well-shaped dapper little fellow, and more than that, found +himself in a full suit of new clothes, which he concluded the fairies +had made for him. + +Towards Cappagh he went, stepping out as lightly, and springing up at +every step as if he had been all his life a dancing-master. Not a +creature who met Lusmore knew him without his hump, and he had a great +work to persuade every one that he was the same man--in truth he was +not, so far as the outward appearance went. + +Of course it was not long before the story of Lusmore's hump got +about, and a great wonder was made of it. Through the country, for +miles round, it was the talk of every one, high and low. + +One morning, as Lusmore was sitting contented enough at his cabin +door, up came an old woman to him, and asked him if he could direct +her to Cappagh. + +"I need give you no directions, my good woman," said Lusmore, "for +this is Cappagh; and whom may you want here?" + +"I have come," said the woman, "out of Decie's country, in the county +of Waterford, looking after one Lusmore, who, I have heard tell, had +his hump taken off by the fairies; for there is a son of a gossip of +mine who has got a hump on him that will be his death; and maybe, if +he could use the same charm as Lusmore, the hump may be taken off him. +And now I have told you the reason of my coming so far: 'tis to find +out about this charm, if I can." + +Lusmore, who was ever a good-natured little fellow, told the woman all +the particulars, how he had raised the tune for the fairies at +Knockgrafton, how his hump had been removed from his shoulders, and +how he had got a new suit of clothes into the bargain. + +The woman thanked him very much, and then went away quite happy and +easy in her own mind. When she came back to her gossip's house, in the +county of Waterford, she told her everything that Lusmore had said, +and they put the little hump-backed man, who was a peevish and cunning +creature from his birth, upon a car, and took him all the way across +the country. It was a long journey, but they did not care for that, so +the hump was taken from off him; and they brought him, just at +nightfall, and left him under the old moat of Knockgrafton. + +Jack Madden, for that was the humpy man's name, had not been sitting +there long when he heard the tune going on within the moat much sweeter +than before; for the fairies were singing it the way Lusmore had settled +their music for them, and the song was going on: _Da Luan, Da Mort, Da +Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, augus Da Dardeen_, without ever +stopping. Jack Madden, who was in a great hurry to get quit of his hump, +never thought of waiting until the fairies had done, or watching for a +fit opportunity to raise the tune higher again than Lusmore had; so +having heard them sing it over seven times without stopping, out he +bawls, never minding the time or the humour of the tune, or how he +could bring his words in properly, _augus Da Dardeen, augus Da Hena_, +thinking that if one day was good, two were better; and that if Lusmore +had one new suit of clothes given him, he should have two. + +No sooner had the words passed his lips than he was taken up and +whisked into the moat with prodigious force; and the fairies came +crowding round about him with great anger, screeching and screaming, +and roaring out, "Who spoiled our tune? who spoiled our tune?" and one +stepped up to him above all the rest, and said-- + + "Jack Madden! Jack Madden! + Your words came so bad in + The tune we felt glad in;-- + This castle you're had in, + That your life we may sadden; + Here's two humps for Jack Madden!" + +And twenty of the strongest fairies brought Lusmore's hump, and put it +down upon poor Jack's back, over his own, where it became fixed as +firmly as if it was nailed on with twelve-penny nails, by the best +carpenter that ever drove one. Out of their castle they then kicked him; +and in the morning, when Jack Madden's mother and her gossip came to +look after their little man, they found him half dead, lying at the foot +of the moat, with the other hump upon his back. Well to be sure, how +they did look at each other! but they were afraid to say anything, lest +a hump might be put upon their own shoulders. Home they brought the +unlucky Jack Madden with them, as downcast in their hearts and their +looks as ever two gossips were; and what through the weight of his other +hump, and the long journey, he died soon after, leaving, they say, his +heavy curse to any one who would go to listen to fairy tunes again. + + + + +A DONEGAL FAIRY. + +LETITIA MACLINTOCK. + + +Ay, it's a bad thing to displeasure the gentry, sure enough--they can +be unfriendly if they're angered, an' they can be the very best o' +gude neighbours if they're treated kindly. + +My mother's sister was her lone in the house one day, wi' a' big pot +o' water boiling on the fire, and ane o' the wee folk fell down the +chimney, and slipped wi' his leg in the hot water. + +He let a terrible squeal out o' him, an' in a minute the house was +full o' wee crathurs pulling him out o' the pot, an' carrying him +across the floor. + +"Did she scald you?" my aunt heard them saying to him. + +"Na, na, it was mysel' scalded my ainsel'," quoth the wee fellow. + +"A weel, a weel," says they. "If it was your ainsel scalded yoursel', +we'll say nothing, but if she had scalded you, we'd ha' made her pay." + + + + +THE TROOPING FAIRIES. + + + + +CHANGELINGS. + + +Sometimes the fairies fancy mortals, and carry them away into their +own country, leaving instead some sickly fairy child, or a log of wood +so bewitched that it seems to be a mortal pining away, and dying, and +being buried. Most commonly they steal children. If you "over look a +child," that is look on it with envy, the fairies have it in their +power. Many things can be done to find out in a child a changeling, +but there is one infallible thing--lay it on the fire with this +formula, "Burn, burn, burn--if of the devil, burn; but if of God and +the saints, be safe from harm" (given by Lady Wilde). Then if it be a +changeling it will rush up the chimney with a cry, for, according to +Giraldus Cambrensis, "fire is the greatest of enemies to every sort of +phantom, in so much that those who have seen apparitions fall into a +swoon as soon as they are sensible of the brightness of fire." + +Sometimes the creature is got rid of in a more gentle way. It is on +record that once when a mother was leaning over a wizened changeling +the latch lifted and a fairy came in, carrying home again the +wholesome stolen baby. "It was the others," she said, "who stole it." +As for her, she wanted her own child. + +Those who are carried away are happy, according to some accounts, having +plenty of good living and music and mirth. Others say, however, that +they are continually longing for their earthly friends. Lady Wilde gives +a gloomy tradition that there are two kinds of fairies--one kind merry +and gentle, the other evil, and sacrificing every year a life to Satan, +for which purpose they steal mortals. No other Irish writer gives this +tradition--if such fairies there be, they must be among the solitary +spirits--Pookas, Fir Darrigs, and the like. + + + + +THE BREWERY OF EGG-SHELLS. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +Mrs. Sullivan fancied that her youngest child had been exchanged by +"fairies theft," and certainly appearances warranted such a +conclusion; for in one night her healthy, blue-eyed boy had become +shrivelled up into almost nothing, and never ceased squalling and +crying. This naturally made poor Mrs. Sullivan very unhappy; and all +the neighbours, by way of comforting her, said that her own child was, +beyond any kind of doubt, with the good people, and that one of +themselves was put in his place. + +Mrs. Sullivan of course could not disbelieve what every one told her, +but she did not wish to hurt the thing; for although its face was so +withered, and its body wasted away to a mere skeleton, it had still a +strong resemblance to her own boy. She, therefore, could not find it +in her heart to roast it alive on the griddle, or to burn its nose off +with the red-hot tongs, or to throw it out in the snow on the +road-side, notwithstanding these, and several like proceedings, were +strongly recommended to her for the recovery of her child. + +One day who should Mrs. Sullivan meet but a cunning woman, well known +about the country by the name of Ellen Leah (or Grey Ellen). She had +the gift, however she got it, of telling where the dead were, and what +was good for the rest of their souls; and could charm away warts and +wens, and do a great many wonderful things of the same nature. + +"You're in grief this morning, Mrs. Sullivan," were the first words of +Ellen Leah to her. + +"You may say that, Ellen," said Mrs. Sullivan, "and good cause I have +to be in grief, for there was my own fine child whipped of from me out +of his cradle, without as much as 'by your leave' or 'ask your +pardon,' and an ugly dony bit of a shrivelled-up fairy put in his +place; no wonder, then, that you see me in grief, Ellen." + +"Small blame to you, Mrs. Sullivan," said Ellen Leah, "but are you +sure 'tis a fairy?" + +"Sure!" echoed Mrs. Sullivan, "sure enough I am to my sorrow, and can +I doubt my own two eyes? Every mother's soul must feel for me!" + +"Will you take an old woman's advice?" said Ellen Leah, fixing her +wild and mysterious gaze upon the unhappy mother; and, after a pause, +she added, "but maybe you'll call it foolish?" + +"Can you get me back my child, my own child, Ellen?" said Mrs. +Sullivan with great energy. + +"If you do as I bid you," returned Ellen Leah, "you'll know." Mrs. +Sullivan was silent in expectation, and Ellen continued, "Put down the +big pot, full of water, on the fire, and make it boil like mad; then +get a dozen new-laid eggs, break them, and keep the shells, but throw +away the rest; when that is done, put the shells in the pot of boiling +water, and you will soon know whether it is your own boy or a fairy. +If you find that it is a fairy in the cradle, take the red-hot poker +and cram it down his ugly throat, and you will not have much trouble +with him after that, I promise you." + +Home went Mrs. Sullivan, and did as Ellen Leah desired. She put the +pot on the fire, and plenty of turf under it, and set the water +boiling at such a rate, that if ever water was red-hot, it surely was. + +The child was lying, for a wonder, quite easy and quiet in the cradle, +every now and then cocking his eye, that would twinkle as keen as a +star in a frosty night, over at the great fire, and the big pot upon +it; and he looked on with great attention at Mrs. Sullivan breaking +the eggs and putting down the egg-shells to boil. At last he asked, +with the voice of a very old man, "What are you doing, mammy?" + +Mrs. Sullivan's heart, as she said herself, was up in her mouth ready +to choke her, at hearing the child speak. But she contrived to put the +poker in the fire, and to answer, without making any wonder at the +words, "I'm brewing, _a vick_" (my son). + +"And what are you brewing, mammy?" said the little imp, whose +supernatural gift of speech now proved beyond question that he was a +fairy substitute. + +"I wish the poker was red," thought Mrs. Sullivan; but it was a large +one, and took a long time heating; so she determined to keep him in +talk until the poker was in a proper state to thrust down his throat, +and therefore repeated the question. + +"Is it what I'm brewing, _a vick_," said she, "you want to know?" + +"Yes, mammy: what are you brewing?" returned the fairy. + +"Egg-shells, _a vick_," said Mrs. Sullivan. + +"Oh!" shrieked the imp, starting up in the cradle, and clapping his +hands together, "I'm fifteen hundred years in the world, and I never +saw a brewery of egg-shells before!" The poker was by this time quite +red, and Mrs. Sullivan, seizing it, ran furiously towards the cradle; +but somehow or other her foot slipped, and she fell flat on the floor, +and the poker flew out of her hand to the other end of the house. +However, she got up without much loss of time and went to the cradle, +intending to pitch the wicked thing that was in it into the pot of +boiling water, when there she saw her own child in a sweet sleep, one +of his soft round arms rested upon the pillow--his features were as +placid as if their repose had never been disturbed, save the rosy +mouth, which moved with a gentle and regular breathing. + + + + +THE FAIRY NURSE. + +BY EDWARD WALSH. + + + Sweet babe! a golden cradle holds thee, + And soft the snow-white fleece enfolds thee; + In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping, + Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping. + Shuheen, sho, lulo lo! + + When mothers languish broken-hearted, + When young wives are from husbands parted, + Ah! little think the keeners lonely, + They weep some time-worn fairy only. + Shuheen sho, lulo lo! + + Within our magic halls of brightness, + Trips many a foot of snowy whiteness; + Stolen maidens, queens of fairy-- + And kings and chiefs a sluagh-shee airy, + Shuheen sho, lulo lo! + + Rest thee, babe! I love thee dearly, + And as thy mortal mother nearly; + Ours is the swiftest steed and proudest, + That moves where the tramp of the host is loudest. + Shuheen sho, lulo lo! + + Rest thee, babe! for soon thy slumbers + Shall flee at the magic koelshie's[7] numbers; + In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping, + Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping. + Shuheen sho, lulo, lo! + +[Footnote 7: _Ceól-sidhe_--_i.e._, fairy music.] + + + + +JAMIE FREEL AND THE YOUNG LADY. + +_A Donegal Tale._ + +MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK. + + +Down in Fannet, in times gone by, lived Jamie Freel and his mother. +Jamie was the widow's sole support; his strong arm worked for her +untiringly, and as each Saturday night came round, he poured his wages +into her lap, thanking her dutifully for the halfpence which she +returned him for tobacco. + +He was extolled by his neighbours as the best son ever known or heard +of. But he had neighbours, of whose opinion he was ignorant--neighbours +who lived pretty close to him, whom he had never seen, who are, indeed, +rarely seen by mortals, except on May eves and Halloweens. + +An old ruined castle, about a quarter of a mile from his cabin, was said +to be the abode of the "wee folk." Every Halloween were the ancient +windows lighted up, and passers-by saw little figures flitting to and +fro inside the building, while they heard the music of pipes and flutes. + +It was well known that fairy revels took place; but nobody had the +courage to intrude on them. + +Jamie had often watched the little figures from a distance, and +listened to the charming music, wondering what the inside of the +castle was like; but one Halloween he got up and took his cap, saying +to his mother, "I'm awa' to the castle to seek my fortune." + +"What!" cried she, "would you venture there? you that's the poor +widow's one son! Dinna be sae venturesome an' foolitch, Jamie! They'll +kill you, an' then what'll come o' me?" + +"Never fear, mother; nae harm 'ill happen me, but I maun gae." + +He set out, and as he crossed the potato-field, came in sight of the +castle, whose windows were ablaze with light, that seemed to turn the +russet leaves, still clinging to the crabtree branches, into gold. + +Halting in the grove at one side of the ruin, he listened to the elfin +revelry, and the laughter and singing made him all the more determined +to proceed. + +Numbers of little people, the largest about the size of a child of +five years old, were dancing to the music of flutes and fiddles, while +others drank and feasted. + +"Welcome, Jamie Freel! welcome, welcome, Jamie!" cried the company, +perceiving their visitor. The word "Welcome" was caught up and +repeated by every voice in the castle. + +Time flew, and Jamie was enjoying himself very much, when his hosts +said, "We're going to ride to Dublin to-night to steal a young lady. +Will you come too, Jamie Freel?" + +"Ay, that will I!" cried the rash youth, thirsting for adventure. + +A troop of horses stood at the door. Jamie mounted, and his steed rose +with him into the air. He was presently flying over his mother's +cottage, surrounded by the elfin troop, and on and on they went, over +bold mountains, over little hills, over the deep Lough Swilley, over +towns and cottages, when people were burning nuts, and eating apples, +and keeping merry Halloween. It seemed to Jamie that they flew all +round Ireland before they got to Dublin. + +"This is Derry," said the fairies, flying over the cathedral spire; +and what was said by one voice was repeated by all the rest, till +fifty little voices were crying out, "Derry! Derry! Derry!" + +In like manner was Jamie informed as they passed over each town on the +rout, and at length he heard the silvery voices cry, "Dublin! Dublin!" + +It was no mean dwelling that was to be honoured by the fairy visit, +but one of the finest houses in Stephen's Green. + +The troop dismounted near a window, and Jamie saw a beautiful face, on +a pillow in a splendid bed. He saw the young lady lifted and carried +away, while the stick which was dropped in her place on the bed took +her exact form. + +The lady was placed before one rider and carried a short way, then +given another, and the names of the towns were cried out as before. + +They were approaching home. Jamie heard "Rathmullan," "Milford," +"Tamney," and then he knew they were near his own house. + +"You've all had your turn at carrying the young lady," said he. "Why +wouldn't I get her for a wee piece?" + +"Ay, Jamie," replied they, pleasantly, "you may take your turn at +carrying her, to be sure." + +Holding his prize very tightly, he dropped down near his mother's door. + +"Jamie Freel, Jamie Freel! is that the way you treat us?" cried they, +and they too dropped down near the door. + +Jamie held fast, though he knew not what he was holding, for the +little folk turned the lady into all sorts of strange shapes. At one +moment she was a black dog, barking and trying to bite; at another, a +glowing bar of iron, which yet had no heat; then, again, a sack of wool. + +But still Jamie held her, and the baffled elves were turning away, +when a tiny woman, the smallest of the party, exclaimed, "Jamie Freel +has her awa' frae us, but he sall hae nae gude o' her, for I'll mak' +her deaf and dumb," and she threw something over the young girl. + +While they rode off disappointed, Jamie lifted the latch and went in. + +"Jamie, man!" cried his mother, "you've been awa' all night; what have +they done on you?" + +"Naething bad, mother; I ha' the very best of gude luck. Here's a +beautiful young lady I ha' brought you for company. + +"Bless us an' save us!" exclaimed the mother, and for some minutes she +was so astonished that she could not think of anything else to say. + +Jamie told his story of the night's adventure, ending by saying, +"Surely you wouldna have allowed me to let her gang with them to be +lost forever?" + +"But a _lady_, Jamie! How can a lady eat we'er poor diet, and live in +we'er poor way? I ax you that, you foolitch fellow?" + +"Weel, mother, sure it's better for her to be here nor over yonder," +and he pointed in the direction of the castle. + +Meanwhile, the deaf and dumb girl shivered in her light clothing, +stepping close to the humble turf fire. + +"Poor crathur, she's quare and handsome! Nae wonder they set their +hearts on her," said the old woman, gazing at her guest with pity and +admiration. "We maun dress her first; but what, in the name o' +fortune, hae I fit for the likes o' her to wear?" + +She went to her press in "the room," and took out her Sunday gown of +brown drugget; she then opened a drawer, and drew forth a pair of +white stockings, a long snowy garment of fine linen, and a cap, her +"dead dress," as she called it. + +These articles of attire had long been ready for a certain triste +ceremony, in which she would some day fill the chief part, and only +saw the light occasionally, when they were hung out to air; but she +was willing to give even these to the fair trembling visitor, who was +turning in dumb sorrow and wonder from her to Jamie, and from Jamie +back to her. + +The poor girl suffered herself to be dressed, and then sat down on a +"creepie" in the chimney corner, and buried her face in her hands. + +"What'll we do to keep up a lady like thou?" cried the old woman. + +"I'll work for you both, mother," replied the son. + +"An' how could a lady live on we'er poor diet?" she repeated. + +"I'll work for her," was all Jamie's answer. + +He kept his word. The young lady was very sad for a long time, and +tears stole down her cheeks many an evening while the old woman spun +by the fire, and Jamie made salmon nets, an accomplishment lately +acquired by him, in hopes of adding to the comfort of his guest But +she was always gentle, and tried to smile when she perceived them +looking at her; and by degrees she adapted herself to their ways and +mode of life. It was not very long before she began to feed the pig, +mash potatoes and meal for the fowls, and knit blue worsted socks. + +So a year passed, and Halloween came round again. "Mother," said +Jamie, taking down his cap, "I'm off to the ould castle to seek my +fortune." + +"Are you mad, Jamie?" cried his mother, in terror; "sure they'll kill +you this time for what you done on them last year." + +Jamie made light of her fears and went his way. + +As he reached the crabtree grove, he saw bright lights in the castle +windows as before, and heard loud talking. Creeping under the window, +he heard the wee folk say, "That was a poor trick Jamie Freel played +us this night last year, when he stole the nice young lady from us." + +"Ay," said the tiny woman, "an' I punished him for it, for there she +sits, a dumb image by his hearth; but he does na' know that three +drops out o' this glass I hold in my hand wad gie her her hearing and +her speeches back again." + +Jamie's heart beat fast as he entered the hall. Again he was greeted +by a chorus of welcomes from the company--"Here comes Jamie Freel! +welcome, welcome, Jamie!" + +As soon as the tumult subsided, the little woman said, "You be to +drink our health, Jamie, out o' this glass in my hand." + +Jamie snatched the glass from her and darted to the door. He never +knew how he reached his cabin, but he arrived there breathless, and +sank on a stove by the fire. + +"You're kilt surely this time, my poor boy," said his mother. + +"No, indeed, better luck than ever this time!" and he gave the lady +three drops of the liquid that still remained at the bottom of the +glass, notwithstanding his mad race over the potato-field. + +The lady began to speak, and her first words were words of thanks to +Jamie. + +The three inmates of the cabin had so much to say to one another, that +long after cock-crow, when the fairy music had quite ceased, they were +talking round the fire. + +"Jamie," said the lady, "be pleased to get me paper and pen and ink, +that I may write to my father, and tell him what has become of me." + +She wrote, but weeks passed, and she received no answer. Again and +again she wrote, and still no answer. + +At length she said, "You must come with me to Dublin, Jamie, to find +my father." + +"I ha' no money to hire a car for you," he replied, "an' how can you +travel to Dublin on your foot?" + +But she implored him so much that he consented to set out with her, +and walk all the way from Fannet to Dublin. It was not as easy as the +fairy journey; but at last they rang the bell at the door of the house +in Stephen's Green. + +"Tell my father that his daughter is here," said she to the servant +who opened the door. + +"The gentleman that lives here has no daughter, my girl. He had one, +but she died better nor a year ago." + +"Do you not know me, Sullivan?" + +"No, poor girl, I do not." + +"Let me see the gentleman. I only ask to see him." + +"Well, that's not much to ax; we'll see what can be done." + +In a few moments the lady's father came to the door. + +"Dear father," said she, "don't you know me?" + +"How dare you call me your father?" cried the old gentleman, angrily. +"You are an impostor. I have no daughter." + +"Look in my face, father, and surely you'll remember me." + +"My daughter is dead and buried. She died a long, long time ago." The +old gentleman's voice changed from anger to sorrow. "You can go," he +concluded. + +"Stop, dear father, till you look at this ring on my finger. Look at +your name and mine engraved on it." + +"It certainly is my daughter's ring; but I do not know how you came by +it. I fear in no honest way." + +"Call my mother, _she_ will be sure to know me," said the poor girl, +who, by this time, was crying bitterly. + +"My poor wife is beginning to forget her sorrow. She seldom speaks of +her daughter now. Why should I renew her grief by reminding her of her +loss?" + +But the young lady persevered, till at last the mother was sent for. + +"Mother," she began, when the old lady came to the door, "don't _you_ +know your daughter?" + +"I have no daughter; my daughter died and was buried a long, long time +ago." + +"Only look in my face, and surely you'll know me." + +The old lady shook her head. + +"You have all forgotten me; but look at this mole on my neck. Surely, +mother, you know me now?" + +"Yes, yes," said the mother, "my Gracie had a mole on her neck like +that; but then I saw her in her coffin, and saw the lid shut down upon +her." + +It became Jamie's turn to speak, and he gave the history of the fairy +journey, of the theft of the young lady, of the figure he had seen +laid in its place, of her life with his mother in Fannet, of last +Halloween, and of the three drops that had released her from her +enchantment. + +She took up the story when he paused, and told how kind the mother and +son had been to her. + +The parents could not make enough of Jamie. They treated him with +every distinction, and when he expressed his wish to return to Fannet, +said they did not know what to do to show their gratitude. + +But an awkward complication arose. The daughter would not let him go +without her. "If Jamie goes, I'll go too," she said. "He saved me from +the fairies, and has worked for me ever since. If it had not been for +him, dear father and mother, you would never have seen me again. If +he goes, I'll go too." + +This being her resolution, the old gentleman said that Jamie should +become his son-in-law. The mother was brought from Fannet in a coach +and four, and there was a splendid wedding. + +They all lived together in the grand Dublin house, and Jamie was heir +to untold wealth at his father-in-law's death. + + + + +THE STOLEN CHILD. + +W. B. YEATS. + + + Where dips the rocky highland + Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, + There lies a leafy island + Where flapping herons wake + The drowsy water-rats. + There we've hid our fairy vats + Full of berries, + And of reddest stolen cherries. + Come away, O, human child! + To the woods and waters wild, + With a fairy hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. + + Where the wave of moonlight glosses + The dim grey sands with light, + Far off by furthest Rosses + We foot it all the night, + Weaving olden dances, + Mingling hands, and mingling glances, + Till the moon has taken flight; + To and fro we leap, + And chase the frothy bubbles, + While the world is full of troubles. + And is anxious in its sleep. + Come away! O, human child! + To the woods and waters wild. + With a fairy hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. + + Where the wandering water gushes + From the hills above Glen-Car, + In pools among the rushes, + That scarce could bathe a star, + We seek for slumbering trout, + And whispering in their ears; + We give them evil dreams, + Leaning softly out + From ferns that drop their tears + Of dew on the young streams. + Come! O, human child! + To the woods and waters wild, + With a fairy hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. + + Away with us, he's going, + The solemn-eyed; + He'll hear no more the lowing + Of the calves on the warm hill-side. + Or the kettle on the hob + Sing peace into his breast; + Or see the brown mice bob + Round and round the oatmeal chest. + For he comes, the human child, + To the woods and waters wild, + With a fairy hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand. + + + + +THE TROOPING FAIRIES + + + + +THE MERROW. + + +The _Merrow_, or if you write it in the Irish, _Moruadh_ or +_Murrúghach_, from _muir_, sea, and _oigh_, a maid, is not uncommon, +they say, on the wilder coasts. The fishermen do not like to see them, +for it always means coming gales. The male _Merrows_ (if you can use +such a phrase--I have never heard the masculine of _Merrow_) have +green teeth, green hair, pig's eyes, and red noses; but their women +are beautiful, for all their fish tails and the little duck-like scale +between their fingers. Sometimes they prefer, small blame to them, +good-looking fishermen to their sea lovers. Near Bantry, in the last +century, there is said to have been a woman covered all over with +scales like a fish, who was descended from such a marriage. Sometimes +they come out of the sea, and wander about the shore in the shape of +little hornless cows. They have, when in their own shape, a red cap, +called a _cohullen druith_, usually covered with feathers. If this is +stolen, they cannot again go down under the waves. + +Red is the colour of magic in every country, and has been so from the +very earliest times. The caps of fairies and magicians are well-nigh +always red. + + + + +THE SOUL CAGES. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +Jack Dogherty lived on the coast of the county Clare. Jack was a +fisherman, as his father and grandfather before him had been. Like +them, too, he lived all alone (but for the wife), and just in the +same spot. People used to wonder why the Dogherty family were so fond +of that wild situation, so far away from all human kind, and in the +midst of huge shattered rocks, with nothing but the wide ocean to look +upon. But they had their own good reasons for it. + +The place was just the only spot on that part of the coast where +anybody could well live. There was a neat little creek, where a boat +might lie as snug as a puffin in her nest, and out from this creek a +ledge of sunken rocks ran into the sea. Now when the Atlantic, +according to custom, was raging with a storm, and a good westerly wind +was blowing strong on the coast, many a richly-laden ship went to +pieces on these rocks; and then the fine bales of cotton and tobacco, +and such like things, and the pipes of wine, and the puncheons of rum, +and the casks of brandy, and the kegs of Hollands that used to come +ashore! Dunbeg Bay was just like a little estate to the Doghertys. + +Not but they were kind and humane to a distressed sailor, if ever one +had the good luck to get to land; and many a time indeed did Jack put +out in his little _corragh_ (which, though not quite equal to honest +Andrew Hennessy's canvas life-boat, would breast the billows like any +gannet), to lend a hand towards bringing off the crew from a wreck. +But when the ship had gone to pieces, and the crew were all lost, who +would blame Jack for picking up all he could find? + +"And who is the worse of it?" said he. "For as to the king, God bless +him! everybody knows he's rich enough already without getting what's +floating in the sea." + +Jack, though such a hermit, was a good-natured, jolly fellow. No +other, sure, could ever have coaxed Biddy Mahony to quit her father's +snug and warm house in the middle of the town of Ennis, and to go so +many miles off to live among the rocks, with the seals and sea-gulls +for next-door neighbours. But Biddy knew that Jack was the man for a +woman who wished to be comfortable and happy; for, to say nothing of +the fish, Jack had the supplying of half the gentlemen's houses of +the country with the _Godsends_ that came into the bay. And she was +right in her choice; for no woman ate, drank, or slept better, or made +a prouder appearance at chapel on Sundays, than Mrs. Dogherty. + +Many a strange sight, it may well be supposed, did Jack see, and many a +strange sound did he hear, but nothing daunted him. So far was he from +being afraid of Merrows, or such beings, that the very first wish of his +heart was to fairly meet with one. Jack had heard that they were mighty +like Christians, and that luck had always come out of an acquaintance +with them. Never, therefore, did he dimly discern the Merrows moving +along the face of the waters in their robes of mist, but he made direct +for them; and many a scolding did Biddy, in her own quiet way, bestow +upon Jack for spending his whole day out at sea, and bringing home no +fish. Little did poor Biddy know the fish Jack was after! + +It was rather annoying to Jack that, though living in a place where +the Merrows were as plenty as lobsters, he never could get a right +view of one. What vexed him more was that both his father and +grandfather had often and often seen them; and he even remembered +hearing, when a child, how his grandfather, who was the first of the +family that had settled down at the creek, had been so intimate with a +Merrow that, only for fear of vexing the priest, he would have had him +stand for one of his children. This, however, Jack did not well know +how to believe. + +Fortune at length began to think that it was only right that Jack +should know as much as his father and grandfather did. Accordingly, +one day when he had strolled a little farther than usual along the +coast to the northward, just as he turned a point, he saw something, +like to nothing he had ever seen before, perched upon a rock at a +little distance out to sea. It looked green in the body, as well as he +could discern at that distance, and he would have sworn, only the +thing was impossible, that it had a cocked hat in its hand. Jack stood +for a good half-hour straining his eyes, and wondering at it, and all +the time the thing did not stir hand or foot. At last Jack's patience +was quite worn out, and he gave a loud whistle and a hail, when the +Merrow (for such it was) started up, put the cocked hat on its head, +and dived down, head foremost, from the rock. + +Jack's curiosity was now excited, and he constantly directed his steps +towards the point; still he could never get a glimpse of the +sea-gentleman with the cocked hat; and with thinking and thinking +about the matter, he began at last to fancy he had been only dreaming. +One very rough day, however, when the sea was running mountains high, +Jack Dogherty determined to give a look at the Merrow's rock (for he +had always chosen a fine day before), and then he saw the strange +thing cutting capers upon the top of the rock, and then diving down, +and then coming up, and then diving down again. + +Jack had now only to choose his time (that is, a good blowing day), +and he might see the man of the sea as often as he pleased. All this, +however, did not satisfy him--"much will have more;" he wished now to +get acquainted with the Merrow, and even in this he succeeded. One +tremendous blustering day, before he got to the point whence he had a +view of the Merrow's rock, the storm came on so furiously that Jack +was obliged to take shelter in one of the caves which are so numerous +along the coast; and there, to his astonishment, he saw sitting before +him a thing with green hair, long green teeth, a red nose, and pig's +eyes. It had a fish's tail, legs with scales on them, and short arms +like fins. It wore no clothes, but had the cocked hat under its arm, +and seemed engaged thinking very seriously about something. + +Jack, with all his courage, was a little daunted; but now or never, +thought he; so up he went boldly to the cogitating fishman, took off +his hat, and made his best bow. + +"Your servant, sir," said Jack. + +"Your servant, kindly, Jack Dogherty," answered the Merrow. + +"To be sure, then, how well your honour knows my name!" said Jack. + +"Is it I not know your name, Jack Dogherty? Why, man, I knew your +grandfather long before he was married to Judy Regan, your +grandmother! Ah, Jack, Jack, I was fond of that grandfather of yours; +he was a mighty worthy man in his time: I never met his match above or +below, before or since, for sucking in a shellful of brandy. I hope, +my boy," said the old fellow, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, "I +hope you're his own grandson!" + +"Never fear me for that," said Jack; "if my mother had only reared me +on brandy, 'tis myself that would be a sucking infant to this hour!" + +"Well, I like to hear you talk so manly; you and I must be better +acquainted, if it were only for your grandfather's sake. But, Jack, +that father of yours was not the thing! he had no head at all." + +"I'm sure," said Jack, "since your honour lives down under the water, +you must be obliged to drink a power to keep any heat in you in such a +cruel, damp, _could_ place. Well, I've often heard of Christians +drinking like fishes; and might I be so bold as ask where you get the +spirits?" + +"Where do you get them yourself, Jack?" said the Merrow, twitching his +red nose between his forefinger and thumb. + +"Hubbubboo," cries Jack, "now I see how it is; but I suppose, sir, +your honour has got a fine dry cellar below to keep them in." + +"Let me alone for the cellar," said the Merrow, with a knowing wink of +his left eye. + +"I'm sure," continued Jack, "it must be mighty well worth the looking +at." + +"You may say that, Jack," said the Merrow; "and if you meet me here +next Monday, just at this time of the day, we will have a little more +talk with one another about the matter." + +Jack and the Merrow parted the best friends in the world. On Monday +they met, and Jack was not a little surprised to see that the Merrow +had two cocked hats with him, one under each arm. + +"Might I take the liberty to ask, sir," said Jack, "why your honour has +brought the two hats with you to day? You would not, sure, be going to +give me one of them, to keep for the _curiosity_ of the thing?" + +"No, no, Jack," said he, "I don't get my hats so easily, to part with +them that way; but I want you to come down and dine with me, and I +brought you the hat to dine with." + +"Lord bless and preserve us!" cried Jack, in amazement, "would you +want me to go down to the bottom of the salt sea ocean? Sure, I'd be +smothered and choked up with the water, to say nothing of being +drowned! And what would poor Biddy do for me, and what would she say?" + +"And what matter what she says, you _pinkeen_? Who cares for Biddy's +squalling? It's long before your grandfather would have talked in that +way. Many's the time he stuck that same hat on his head, and dived +down boldly after me; and many's the snug bit of dinner and good +shellful of brandy he and I have had together below, under the water." + +"Is it really, sir, and no joke?" said Jack; "why, then, sorrow from +me for ever and a day after, if I'll be a bit worse man nor my +grandfather was! Here goes--but play me fair now. Here's neck or +nothing!" cried Jack. + +"That's your grandfather all over," said the old fellow; "so come +along, then, and do as I do." + +They both left the cave, walked into the sea, and then swam a piece +until they got to the rock. The Merrow climbed to the top of it, and +Jack followed him. On the far side it was as straight as the wall of a +house, and the sea beneath looked so deep that Jack was almost cowed. + +"Now, do you see, Jack," said the Merrow: "just put this hat on your +head, and mind to keep your eyes wide open. Take hold of my tail, and +follow after me, and you'll see what you'll see." + +In he dashed, and in dashed Jack after him boldly. They went and they +went, and Jack thought they'd never stop going. Many a time did he +wish himself sitting at home by the fireside with Biddy. Yet where was +the use of wishing now, when he was so many miles, as he thought, +below the waves of the Atlantic? Still he held hard by the Merrow's +tail, slippery as it was; and, at last, to Jack's great surprise, they +got out of the water, and he actually found himself on dry land at the +bottom of the sea. They landed just in front of a nice house that was +slated very neatly with oyster shells! and the Merrow, turning about +to Jack, welcomed him down. + +Jack could hardly speak, what with wonder, and what with being out of +breath with travelling so fast through the water. He looked about him +and could see no living things, barring crabs and lobsters, of which +there were plenty walking leisurely about on the sand. Overhead was +the sea like a sky, and the fishes like birds swimming about in it. + +"Why don't you speak, man?" said the Merrow: "I dare say you had no +notion that I had such a snug little concern here as this? Are you +smothered, or choked, or drowned, or are you fretting after Biddy, eh?" + +"Oh! not myself, indeed," said Jack, showing his teeth with a +good-humoured grin; "but who in the world would ever have thought of +seeing such a thing?" + +"Well, come along, and let's see what they've got for us to eat?" + +Jack really was hungry, and it gave him no small pleasure to perceive +a fine column of smoke rising from the chimney, announcing what was +going on within. Into the house he followed the Merrow, and there he +saw a good kitchen, right well provided with everything. There was a +noble dresser, and plenty of pots and pans, with two young Merrows +cooking. His host then led him into the room, which was furnished +shabbily enough. Not a table or a chair was there in it; nothing but +planks and logs of wood to sit on, and eat off. There was, however, a +good fire blazing upon the hearth--a comfortable sight to Jack. + +"Come now, and I'll show you where I keep--you know what," said the +Merrow, with a sly look; and opening a little door, he led Jack into a +fine cellar, well filled with pipes, and kegs, and hogsheads, and +barrels. + +"What do you say to that, Jack Dogherty? Eh! may be a body can't live +snug under the water?" + +"Never the doubt of that," said Jack, with a convincing smack of his +under lip, that he really thought what he said. + +They went back to the room, and found dinner laid. There was no +tablecloth, to be sure--but what matter? It was not always Jack had +one at home. The dinner would have been no discredit to the first +house of the country on a fast day. The choicest of fish, and no +wonder, was there. Turbots, and sturgeons, and soles, and lobsters, +and oysters, and twenty other kinds, were on the planks at once, and +plenty of the best of foreign spirits. The wines, the old fellow said, +were too cold for his stomach. + +Jack ate and drank till he could eat no more: then, taking up a shell +of brandy, "Here's to your honour's good health, sir," said he; +"though, begging you pardon, it's mighty odd that as long as we've +been acquainted I don't know your name yet." + +"That's true, Jack," replied he; "I never thought of it before, but +better late than never. My name's Coomara." + +"And a mighty decent name it is," cried Jack, taking another +shellfull: "here's to your good health, Coomara, and may ye live these +fifty years to come!" + +"Fifty years!" repeated Coomara; "I'm obliged to you, indeed! If you +had said five hundred, it would have been something worth the wishing." + +"By the laws, sir," cries Jack, "_youz_ live to a powerful age here +under the water! You knew my grandfather, and he's dead and gone better +than these sixty years. I'm sure it must be a healthy place to live in." + +"No doubt of it; but come, Jack, keep the liquor stirring." + +Shell after shell did they empty, and to Jack's exceeding surprise, +he found the drink never got into his head, owing, I suppose, to the +sea being over them, which kept their noddles cool. + +Old Coomara got exceedingly comfortable, and sung several songs; but +Jack, if his life had depended on it, never could remember more than + + "_Rum fum boodle boo, + Ripple dipple nitty dob; + Dumdoo doodle coo, + Raffle taffle chittiboo!_" + +It was the chorus to one of them; and, to say the truth, nobody that I +know has ever been able to pick any particular meaning out of it; but +that, to be sure, is the case with many a song nowadays. + +At length said he to Jack, "Now, my dear boy, if you follow me, I'll +show you my _curiosities_!" He opened a little door, and led Jack into +a large room, where Jack saw a great many odds and ends that Coomara +had picked up at one time or another. What chiefly took his attention, +however, were things like lobster-pots ranged on the ground along the +wall. + +"Well, Jack, how do you like my _curiosities_?" said old Coo. + +"Upon my _sowkins_,[8] sir," said Jack, "they're mighty well worth the +looking at; but might I make so bold as to ask what these things like +lobster-pots are?" + +"Oh! the Soul Cages, is it?" + +"The what? sir!" + +"These things here that I keep the souls in." + +"_Arrah!_ what souls, sir?" said Jack, in amazement; "sure the fish +have no souls in them?" + +"Oh! no," replied Coo, quite coolly, "that they have not; but these +are the souls of drowned sailors." + +"The Lord preserve us from all harm!" muttered Jack, "how in the world +did you get them?" + +"Easily enough: I've only, when I see a good storm coming on, to set +a couple of dozen of these, and then, when the sailors are drowned and +the souls get out of them under the water, the poor things are almost +perished to death, not being used to the cold; so they make into my +pots for shelter, and then I have them snug, and fetch them home, and +keep them here dry and warm; and is it not well for them, poor souls, +to get into such good quarters?" + +Jack was so thunderstruck he did not know what to say, so he said +nothing. They went back into the dining-room, and had a little more +brandy, which was excellent, and then, as Jack knew that it must be +getting late, and as Biddy might be uneasy, he stood up, and said he +thought it was time for him to be on the road. + +"Just as you like, Jack," said Coo, "but take a _duc an durrus_[9] +before you go; you've a cold journey before you." + +Jack knew better manners than to refuse the parting glass. "I wonder," +said he, "will I be able to make out my way home?" + +"What should ail you," said Coo, "when I'll show you the way?" + +Out they went before the house, and Coomara took one of the cocked +hats, and put it upon Jack's head the wrong way, and then lifted him +up on his shoulder that he might launch him up into the water. + +"Now," says he, giving him a heave, "you'll come up just in the same +spot you came down in; and, Jack, mind and throw me back the hat." + +He canted Jack off his shoulder, and up he shot like a bubble--whirr, +whirr, whiz--away he went up through the water, till he came to the +very rock he had jumped off, where he found a landing-place, and then +in he threw the hat, which sunk like a stone. + +The sun was just going down in the beautiful sky of a calm summer's +evening. _Feascor_ was seen dimly twinkling in the cloudless heaven, a +solitary star, and the waves of the Atlantic flashed in a golden flood +of light. So Jack, perceiving it was late, set off home; but when he +got there, not a word did he say to Biddy of where he had spent his day. + +The state of the poor souls cooped up in the lobster-pots gave Jack a +great deal of trouble, and how to release them cost him a great deal of +thought. He at first had a mind to speak to the priest about the matter. +But what could the priest do, and what did Coo care for the priest? +Besides, Coo was a good sort of an old fellow, and did not think he was +doing any harm. Jack had a regard for him, too, and it also might not be +much to his own credit if it were known that he used to go dine with +Merrows. On the whole, he thought his best plan would be to ask Coo to +dinner, and to make him drunk, if he was able, and then to take the hat +and go down and turn up the pots. It was, first of all, necessary, +however, to get Biddy out of the way; for Jack was prudent enough, as +she was a woman, to wish to keep the thing secret from her. + +Accordingly, Jack grew mighty pious all of a sudden, and said to Biddy +that he thought it would be for the good of both their souls if she +was to go and take her rounds at Saint John's Well, near Ennis. Biddy +thought so too, and accordingly off she set one fine morning at +day-dawn, giving Jack a strict charge to have an eye to the place. The +coast being clear, away went Jack to the rock to give the appointed +signal to Coomara, which was throwing a big stone into the water. Jack +threw, and up sprang Coo! + +"Good morning, Jack," said he; "what do you want with me?" + +"Just nothing at all to speak about, sir," returned Jack, "only to +come and take a bit of dinner with me, if I might make so free as to +ask you, and sure I'm now after doing so." + +"It's quite agreeable, Jack, I assure you; what's your hour?" + +"Any time that's most convenient to you, sir--say one o'clock, that +you may go home, if you wish, with the daylight." + +"I'll be with you," said Coo, "never fear me." + +Jack went home, and dressed a noble fish dinner, and got out plenty of +his best foreign spirits, enough, for that matter, to make twenty men +drunk. Just to the minute came Coo, with his cocked hat under his arm. +Dinner was ready, they sat down, and ate and drank away manfully. +Jack, thinking of the poor souls below in the pots, plied old Coo well +with brandy, and encouraged him to sing, hoping to put him under the +table, but poor Jack forgot that he had not the sea over his own head +to keep it cool. The brandy got into it, and did his business for him, +and Coo reeled off home, leaving his entertainer as dumb as a haddock +on a Good Friday. + +Jack never woke till the next morning, and then he was in a sad way. +"'Tis to no use for me thinking to make that old Rapparee drunk," said +Jack, "and how in this world can I help the poor souls out of the +lobster-pots?" After ruminating nearly the whole day, a thought struck +him. "I have it," says he, slapping his knee; "I'll be sworn that Coo +never saw a drop of _poteen_, as old as he is, and that's the _thing_ +to settle him! Oh! then, is not it well that Biddy will not be home +these two days yet; I can have another twist at him." + +Jack asked Coo again, and Coo laughed at him for having no better +head, telling him he'd never come up to his grandfather. + +"Well, but try me again," said Jack, "and I'll be bail to drink you +drunk and sober, and drunk again." + +"Anything in my power," said Coo, "to oblige you." + +At this dinner Jack took care to have his own liquor well watered, and +to give the strongest brandy he had to Coo. At last says he, "Pray, +sir, did you ever drink any poteen?--any real mountain dew?" + +"No," says Coo; "what's that, and where does it come from?" + +"Oh, that's a secret," said Jack, "but it's the right stuff--never +believe me again, if 'tis not fifty times as good as brandy or rum +either. Biddy's brother just sent me a present of a little drop, in +exchange for some brandy, and as you're an old friend of the family, I +kept it to treat you with." + +"Well, let's see what sort of thing it is," said Coomara. + +The _poteen_ was the right sort. It was first-rate, and had the real +smack upon it. Coo was delighted: he drank and he sung _Rum bum boodle +boo_ over and over again; and he laughed and he danced, till he fell +on the floor fast asleep. Then Jack, who had taken good care to keep +himself sober, snapt up the cocked hat--ran off to the rock--leaped +in, and soon arrived at Coo's habitation. + +All was as still as a churchyard at midnight--not a Merrow, old or +young, was there. In he went and turned up the pots, but nothing did +he see, only he heard a sort of a little whistle or chirp as he raised +each of them. At this he was surprised, till he recollected what the +priests had often said, that nobody living could see the soul, no more +than they could see the wind or the air. Having now done all that he +could do for them, he set the pots as they were before, and sent a +blessing after the poor souls to speed them on their journey wherever +they were going. Jack now began to think of returning; he put the hat +on, as was right, the wrong way; but when he got out he found the +water so high over his head that he had no hopes of ever getting up +into it, now that he had not old Coomara to give him a lift. He walked +about looking for a ladder, but not one could he find, and not a rock +was there in sight. At last he saw a spot where the sea hung rather +lower than anywhere else, so he resolved to try there. Just as he came +to it, a big cod happened to put down his tail. Jack made a jump and +caught hold of it, and the cod, all in amazement, gave a bounce and +pulled Jack up The minute the hat touched the water away Jack was +whisked, and up he shot like a cork, dragging the poor cod, that he +forgot to let go, up with him tail foremost. He got to the rock in no +time, and without a moment's delay hurried home, rejoicing in the good +deed he had done. + +But, meanwhile, there was fine work at home; for our friend Jack had +hardly left the house on his soul-freeing expedition, when back came +Biddy from her soul-saving one to the well. When she entered the house +and saw the things lying _thrie-na-helah_[10] on the table before +her--"Here's a pretty job!" said she; "that blackguard of mine--what +ill-luck I had ever to marry him! He has picked up some vagabond or +other, while I was praying for the good of his soul, and they've been +drinking all the _poteen_ that my own brother gave him, and all the +spirits, to be sure, that he was to have sold to his honour." Then +hearing an outlandish kind of a grunt, she looked down, and saw +Coomara lying under the table. "The blessed Virgin help me," shouted +she, "if he has not made a real beast of himself! Well, well, I've +often heard of a man making a beast of himself with drink! Oh hone, oh +hone!--Jack, honey, what will I do with you, or what will I do without +you? How can any decent woman ever think of living with a beast?" + +With such like lamentations Biddy rushed out of the house, and was +going she knew not where, when she heard the well-known voice of Jack +singing a merry tune. Glad enough was Biddy to find him safe and +sound, and not turned into a thing that was like neither fish nor +flesh. Jack was obliged to tell her all, and Biddy, though she had +half a mind to be angry with him for not telling her before, owned +that he had done a great service to the poor souls. Back they both +went most lovingly to the house, and Jack wakened up Coomara; and, +perceiving the old fellow to be rather dull, he bid him not to be cast +down, for 'twas many a good man's case; said it all came of his not +being used to the _poteen_, and recommended him, by way of cure, to +swallow a hair of the dog that bit him. Coo, however, seemed to think +he had had quite enough. He got up, quite out of sorts, and without +having the manners to say one word in the way of civility, he sneaked +off to cool himself by a jaunt through the salt water. + +Coomara never missed the souls. He and Jack continued the best +friends in the world, and no one, perhaps, ever equalled Jack for +freeing souls from purgatory; for he contrived fifty excuses for +getting into the house below the sea, unknown to the old fellow, and +then turning up the pots and letting out the souls. It vexed him, to +be sure, that he could never see them; but as he knew the thing to be +impossible, he was obliged to be satisfied. + +Their intercourse continued for several years. However, one morning, on +Jack's throwing in a stone as usual, he got no answer. He flung another, +and another, still there was no reply. He went away, and returned the +following morning, but it was to no purpose. As he was without the hat, +he could not go down to see what had become of old Coo, but his belief +was, that the old man, or the old fish, or whatever he was, had either +died, or had removed from that part of the country. + +[Footnote 8: _Sowkins_, diminutive of soul.] + +[Footnote 9: _Recte, deoch án dorrus_--door-drink or stirrup-cup.] + +[Footnote 10: _Tri-na-cheile, literally through other_--_i.e._, +higgledy-piggledy.] + + + + +FLORY CANTILLON'S FUNERAL. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +The ancient burial-place of the Cantillon family was on an island in +Ballyheigh Bay. This island was situated at no great distance from the +shore, and at a remote period was overflowed in one of the encroachments +which the Atlantic has made on that part of the coast of Kerry. The +fishermen declare they have often seen the ruined walls of an old chapel +beneath them in the water, as they sailed over the clear green sea of a +sunny afternoon. However this may be, it is well-known that the +Cantillons were, like most other Irish families, strongly attached to +their ancient burial-place; and this attachment led to the custom, when +any of the family died, of carrying the corpse to the seaside, where the +coffin was left on the shore within reach of the tide. In the morning it +had disappeared, being, as was traditionally believed, conveyed away by +the ancestors of the deceased to their family tomb. + +Connor Crowe, a county Clare man, was related to the Cantillons by +marriage. "Connor Mac in Cruagh, of the seven quarters of Breintragh," +as he was commonly called, and a proud man he was of the name. Connor, +be it known, would drink a quart of salt water, for its medicinal +virtues, before breakfast; and for the same reason, I suppose, double +that quantity of raw whiskey between breakfast and night, which last +he did with as little inconvenience to himself as any man in the +barony of Moyferta; and were I to add Clanderalaw and Ibrickan, I +don't think I should say wrong. + +On the death of Florence Cantillon, Connor Crowe was determined to +satisfy himself about the truth of this story of the old church under +the sea: so when he heard the news of the old fellow's death, away +with him to Ardfert, where Flory was laid out in high style, and a +beautiful corpse he made. + +Flory had been as jolly and as rollicking a boy in his day as ever was +stretched, and his wake was in every respect worthy of him. There was +all kind of entertainment, and all sort of diversion at it, and no +less than three girls got husbands there--more luck to them. +Everything was as it should be; all that side of the country, from +Dingle to Tarbert, was at the funeral. The Keen was sung long and +bitterly; and, according to the family custom, the coffin was carried +to Ballyheigh strand, where it was laid upon the shore, with a prayer +for the repose of the dead. + +The mourners departed, one group after another, and at last Connor +Crowe was left alone. He then pulled out his whiskey bottle, his drop +of comfort, as he called it, which he required, being in grief; and +down he sat upon a big stone that was sheltered by a projecting rock, +and partly concealed from view, to await with patience the appearance +of the ghostly undertakers. + +The evening came on mild and beautiful. He whistled an old air which +he had heard in his childhood, hoping to keep idle fears out of his +head; but the wild strain of that melody brought a thousand +recollections with it, which only made the twilight appear more pensive. + +"If 'twas near the gloomy tower of Dunmore, in my own sweet country, I +was," said Connor Crowe, with a sigh, "one might well believe that the +prisoners, who were murdered long ago there in the vaults under the +castle, would be the hands to carry off the coffin out of envy, for +never a one of them was buried decently, nor had as much as a coffin +amongst them all. 'Tis often, sure enough, I have heard lamentations +and great mourning coming from the vaults of Dunmore Castle; but," +continued he, after fondly pressing his lips to the mouth of his +companion and silent comforter, the whiskey bottle, "didn't I know all +the time well enough, 'twas the dismal sounding waves working through +the cliffs and hollows of the rocks, and fretting themselves to foam. +Oh, then, Dunmore Castle, it is you that are the gloomy-looking tower +on a gloomy day, with the gloomy hills behind you; when one has gloomy +thoughts on their heart, and sees you like a ghost rising out of the +smoke made by the kelp burners on the strand, there is, the Lord save +us! as fearful a look about you as about the Blue Man's Lake at +midnight. Well, then, anyhow," said Connor, after a pause, "is it not +a blessed night, though surely the moon looks mighty pale in the face? +St. Senan himself between us and all kinds of harm." + +It was, in truth, a lovely moonlight night; nothing was to be seen +around but the dark rocks, and the white pebbly beach, upon which the +sea broke with a hoarse and melancholy murmur. Connor, notwithstanding +his frequent draughts, felt rather queerish, and almost began to +repent his curiosity. It was certainly a solemn sight to behold the +black coffin resting upon the white strand. His imagination gradually +converted the deep moaning of old ocean into a mournful wail for the +dead, and from the shadowy recesses of the rocks he imaged forth +strange and visionary forms. + +As the night advanced, Connor became weary with watching. He caught +himself more than once in the act of nodding, when suddenly giving +his head a shake, he would look towards the black coffin. But the +narrow house of death remained unmoved before him. + +It was long past midnight, and the moon was sinking into the sea, when +he heard the sound of many voices, which gradually became stronger, +above the heavy and monotonous roll of the sea. He listened, and +presently could distinguish a Keen of exquisite sweetness, the notes +of which rose and fell with the heaving of the waves, whose deep +murmur mingled with and supported the strain! + +The Keen grew louder and louder, and seemed to approach the beach, and +then fell into a low, plaintive wail. As it ended Connor beheld a +number of strange and, in the dim light, mysterious-looking figures +emerge from the sea, and surround the coffin, which they prepared to +launch into the water. + +"This comes of marrying with the creatures of earth," said one of the +figures, in a clear, yet hollow tone. + +"True," replied another, with a voice still more fearful, "our king +would never have commanded his gnawing white-toothed waves to devour +the rocky roots of the island cemetery, had not his daughter, +Durfulla, been buried there by her mortal husband!" + +"But the time will come," said a third, bending over the coffin, + + "When mortal eye--our work shall spy, + And mortal ear--our dirge shall hear." + +"Then," said a fourth, "our burial of the Cantillons is at an end for +ever!" + +As this was spoken the coffin was borne from the beach by a retiring +wave, and the company of sea people prepared to follow it; but at the +moment one chanced to discover Connor Crowe, as fixed with wonder and +as motionless with fear as the stone on which he sat. + +"The time is come," cried the unearthly being, "the time is come; a +human eye looks on the forms of ocean, a human ear has heard their +voices. Farewell to the Cantillons; the sons of the sea are no longer +doomed to bury the dust of the earth!" + +One after the other turned slowly round, and regarded Connor Crowe, +who still remained as if bound by a spell. Again arose their funeral +song; and on the next wave they followed the coffin. The sound of the +lamentation died away, and at length nothing was heard but the rush of +waters. The coffin and the train of sea people sank over the old +churchyard, and never since the funeral of old Flory Cantillon have +any of the family been carried to the strand of Ballyheigh, for +conveyance to their rightful burial-place, beneath the waves of the +Atlantic. + + + + +THE SOLITARY FAIRIES. + +LEPRACAUN. CLURICAUN. FAR DARRIG. + + +"The name _Lepracaun_," Mr. Douglas Hyde writes to me, "is from the +Irish _leith brog_--_i.e._, the One-shoemaker, since he is generally +seen working at a single shoe. It is spelt in Irish _leith bhrogan_, +or _leith phrogan_, and is in some places pronounced Luchryman, as +O'Kearney writes it in that very rare book, the _Feis Tigh Chonain_." + +The _Lepracaun_, _Cluricaun_, and _Far Darrig_. Are these one spirit +in different moods and shapes? Hardly two Irish writers are agreed. In +many things these three fairies, if three, resemble each other. They +are withered, old, and solitary, in every way unlike the sociable +spirits of the first sections. They dress with all unfairy homeliness, +and are, indeed, most sluttish, slouching, jeering, mischievous +phantoms. They are the great practical jokers among the good people. + +The _Lepracaun_ makes shoes continually, and has grown very rich. Many +treasure-crocks, buried of old in war-time, has he now for his own. In +the early part of this century, according to Croker, in a newspaper +office in Tipperary, they used to show a little shoe forgotten by a +Lepracaun. + +The _Cluricaun_, (_Clobhair-ceann_, in O'Kearney) makes himself drunk +in gentlemen's cellars. Some suppose he is merely the Lepracaun on a +spree. He is almost unknown in Connaught and the north. + +The _Far Darrig (fear dearg)_, which means the Red Man, for he wears a +red cap and coat, busies himself with practical joking, especially +with gruesome joking. This he does, and nothing else. + +The _Fear-Gorta_ (Man of Hunger) is an emaciated phantom that goes +through the land in famine time, begging an alms and bringing good +luck to the giver. + +There are other solitary fairies, such as the House-spirit and the +_Water-sheerie_, own brother to the English Jack-o'-Lantern; the _Pooka_ +and the _Banshee_--concerning these presently; the _Dallahan_, or +headless phantom--one used to stand in a Sligo street on dark nights +till lately; the Black Dog, a form, perhaps, of the _Pooka_. The ships +at the Sligo quays are haunted sometimes by this spirit, who announces +his presence by a sound like the flinging of all "the tin porringers in +the world" down into the hold. He even follows them to sea. + +_The Leanhaun Shee_ (fairy mistress), seeks the love of mortals. If +they refuse, she must be their slave; if they consent, they are hers, +and can only escape by finding another to take their place. The fairy +lives on their life, and they waste away. Death is no escape from her. +She is the Gaelic muse, for she gives inspiration to those she +persecutes. The Gaelic poets die young, for she is restless, and will +not let them remain long on earth--this malignant phantom. + +Besides these are divers monsters--the _Augh-iska_, the Waterhorse, +the Payshtha (_píast = bestia_), the Lake-dragon, and such like; but +whether these be animals, fairies, or spirits, I know not. + + + + +THE LEPRACAUN; OR, FAIRY SHOEMAKER. + +WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. + + +I. + + Little Cowboy, what have you heard, + Up on the lonely rath's green mound? + Only the plaintive yellow bird[11] + Sighing in sultry fields around, + Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!-- + Only the grasshopper and the bee?-- + "Tip tap, rip-rap, + Tick-a-tack-too! + Scarlet leather, sewn together, + This will make a shoe. + Left, right, pull it tight; + Summer days are warm; + Underground in winter, + Laughing at the storm!" + Lay your ear close to the hill. + Do you not catch the tiny clamour, + Busy click of an elfin hammer, + Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill + As he merrily plies his trade? + He's a span + And a quarter in height. + Get him in sight, hold him tight, + And you're a made + Man! + + +II. + + You watch your cattle the summer day, + Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay; + How would you like to roll in your carriage, + Look for a duchess's daughter in marriage? + Seize the Shoemaker--then you may! + "Big boots a-hunting, + Sandals in the hall, + White for a wedding-feast, + Pink for a ball. + This way, that way, + So we make a shoe; + Getting rich every stitch, + Tick-tack-too!" + Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks + This keen miser-fairy hath, + Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks, + Ruin and round-tow'r, cave and rath, + And where the cormorants build; + From times of old + Guarded by him; + Each of them fill'd + Full to the brim + With gold! + + +III. + + I caught him at work one day, myself, + In the castle-ditch, where foxglove grows,-- + A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf, + Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose, + Silver buckles to his hose, + Leather apron--shoe in his lap-- + "Rip-rap, tip-tap, + Tick-tack-too! + (A grasshopper on my cap! + Away the moth flew!) + Buskins for a fairy prince, + Brogues for his son,-- + Pay me well, pay me well, + When the job is done!" + The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt. + I stared at him; he stared at me; + "Servant, Sir!" "Humph!" says he, + And pull'd a snuff-box out. + He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased, + The queer little Lepracaun; + Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,-- + Pouf! he flung the dust in my face, + And, while I sneezed, + Was gone! + +[Footnote 11: "Yellow bird," the yellow-bunting, or _yorlin_.] + + + + +MASTER AND MAN. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +Billy Mac Daniel was once as likely a young man as ever shook his +brogue at a patron,[12] emptied a quart, or handled a shillelagh; +fearing for nothing but the want of drink; caring for nothing but who +should pay for it; and thinking of nothing but how to make fun over +it; drunk or sober, a word and a blow was ever the way with Billy Mac +Daniel; and a mighty easy way it is of either getting into or of +ending a dispute. More is the pity that, through the means of his +thinking, and fearing, and caring for nothing, this same Billy Mac +Daniel fell into bad company; for surely the good people are the worst +of all company any one could come across. + +It so happened that Billy was going home one clear frosty night not +long after Christmas; the moon was round and bright; but although it +was as fine a night as heart could wish for, he felt pinched with +cold. "By my word," chattered Billy, "a drop of good liquor would be +no bad thing to keep a man's soul from freezing in him; and I wish I +had a full measure of the best." + +"Never wish it twice, Billy," said a little man in a three-cornered +hat, bound all about with gold lace, and with great silver buckles in +his shoes, so big that it was a wonder how he could carry them, and he +held out a glass as big as himself, filled with as good liquor as ever +eye looked on or lip tasted. + +"Success, my little fellow," said Billy Mac Daniel, nothing daunted, +though well he knew the little man to belong to the _good people_; +"here's your health, anyway, and thank you kindly; no matter who pays +for the drink;" and he took the glass and drained it to the very +bottom without ever taking a second breath to it. + +"Success," said the little man; "and you're heartily welcome, Billy; +but don't think to cheat me as you have done others,--out with your +purse and pay me like a gentleman." + +"Is it I pay you?" said Billy; "could I not just take you up and put +you in my pocket as easily as a blackberry?" + +"Billy Mac Daniel," said the little man, getting very angry, "you +shall be my servant for seven years and a day, and that is the way I +will be paid; so make ready to follow me." + +When Billy heard this he began to be very sorry for having used such +bold words towards the little man; and he felt himself, yet could not +tell how, obliged to follow the little man the live-long night about +the country, up and down, and over hedge and ditch, and through bog +and brake, without any rest. + +When morning began to dawn the little man turned round to him and +said, "You may now go home, Billy, but on your peril don't fail to +meet me in the Fort-field to-night; or if you do it may be the worse +for you in the long run. If I find you a good servant, you will find +me an indulgent master." + +Home went Billy Mac Daniel; and though he was tired and weary enough, +never a wink of sleep could he get for thinking of the little man; but +he was afraid not to do his bidding, so up he got in the evening, and +away he went to the Fort-field. He was not long there before the +little man came towards him and said, "Billy, I want to go a long +journey to-night; so saddle one of my horses, and you may saddle +another for yourself, as you are to go along with me, and may be tired +after your walk last night." + +Billy thought this very considerate of his master, and thanked him +accordingly: "But," said he, "if I may be so bold, sir, I would ask +which is the way to your stable, for never a thing do I see but the +fort here, and the old thorn tree in the corner of the field, and the +stream running at the bottom of the hill, with the bit of bog over +against us." + +"Ask no questions, Billy," said the little man, "but go over to that +bit of bog, and bring me two of the strongest rushes you can find." + +Billy did accordingly, wondering what the little man would be at; and +he picked two of the stoutest rushes he could find, with a little +bunch of brown blossom stuck at the side of each, and brought them +back to his master. + +"Get up, Billy," said the little man, taking one of the rushes from +him and striding across it. + +"Where shall I get up, please your honour?" said Billy. + +"Why, upon horseback, like me, to be sure," said the little man. + +"Is it after making a fool of me you'd be," said Billy, "bidding me get +a horseback upon that bit of a rush? May be you want to persuade me that +the rush I pulled but a while ago out of the bog over there is a horse?" + +"Up! up! and no words," said the little man, looking very angry; "the +best horse you ever rode was but a fool to it." So Billy, thinking all +this was in joke, and fearing to vex his master, straddled across the +rush. "Borram! Borram! Borram!" cried the little man three times +(which, in English, means to become great), and Billy did the same +after him; presently the rushes swelled up into fine horses, and away +they went full speed; but Billy, who had put the rush between his +legs, without much minding how he did it, found himself sitting on +horseback the wrong way, which was rather awkward, with his face to +the horse's tail; and so quickly had his steed started off with him +that he had no power to turn round, and there was therefore nothing +for it but to hold on by the tail. + +At last they came to their journey's end, and stopped at the gate of a +fine house. "Now, Billy," said the little man, "do as you see me do, +and follow me close; but as you did not know your horse's head from +his tail, mind that your own head does not spin round until you can't +tell whether you are standing on it or on your heels: for remember +that old liquor, though able to make a cat speak, can make a man dumb." + +The little man then said some queer kind of words, out of which Billy +could make no meaning; but he contrived to say them after him for all +that; and in they both went through the key-hole of the door, and +through one key-hole after another, until they got into the +wine-cellar, which was well stored with all kinds of wine. + +The little man fell to drinking as hard as he could, and Billy, noway +disliking the example, did the same. "The best of masters are you, +surely," said Billy to him; "no matter who is the next; and well pleased +will I be with your service if you continue to give me plenty to drink." + +"I have made no bargain with you," said the little man, "and will make +none; but up and follow me." Away they went, through key-hole after +key-hole; and each mounting upon the rush which he left at the hall +door, scampered off, kicking the clouds before them like snow-balls, +as soon as the words, "Borram, Borram, Borram," had passed their lips. + +When they came back to the Fort-field the little man dismissed Billy, +bidding him to be there the next night at the same hour. Thus did they +go on, night after night, shaping their course one night here, and +another night there; sometimes north, and sometimes east, and +sometimes south, until there was not a gentleman's wine-cellar in all +Ireland they had not visited, and could tell the flavour of every wine +in it as well, ay, better than the butler himself. + +One night when Billy Mac Daniel met the little man as usual in the +Fort-field, and was going to the bog to fetch the horses for their +journey, his master said to him, "Billy, I shall want another horse +to-night, for may be we may bring back more company than we take." So +Billy, who now knew better than to question any order given to him by +his master, brought a third rush, much wondering who it might be that +would travel back in their company, and whether he was about to have a +fellow-servant. "If I have," thought Billy, "he shall go and fetch the +horses from the bog every night; for I don't see why I am not, every +inch of me, as good a gentleman as my master." + +Well, away they went, Billy leading the third horse, and never stopped +until they came to a snug farmer's house, in the county Limerick, +close under the old castle of Carrigogunniel, that was built, they +say, by the great Brian Boru. Within the house there was great +carousing going forward, and the little man stopped outside for some +time to listen; then turning round all of a sudden, said, "Billy, I +will be a thousand years old to-morrow!" + +"God bless us, sir," said Billy; "will you?" + +"Don't say these words again, Billy," said the little old man, "or you +will be my ruin for ever. Now Billy, as I will be a thousand years in +the world to-morrow, I think it is full time for me to get married." + +"I think so too, without any kind of doubt at all," said Billy, "if +ever you mean to marry." + +"And to that purpose," said the little man, "have I come all the way +to Carrigogunniel; for in this house, this very night, is young Darby +Riley going to be married to Bridget Rooney; and as she is a tall and +comely girl, and has come of decent people, I think of marrying her +myself, and taking her off with me." + +"And what will Darby Riley say to that?" said Billy. + +"Silence!" said the little man, putting on a mighty severe look; "I +did not bring you here with me to ask questions;" and without holding +further argument, he began saying the queer words which had the power +of passing him through the key-hole as free as air, and which Billy +thought himself mighty clever to be able to say after him. + +In they both went; and for the better viewing the company, the little +man perched himself up as nimbly as a cocksparrow upon one of the big +beams which went across the house over all their heads, and Billy did +the same upon another facing him; but not being much accustomed to +roosting in such a place, his legs hung down as untidy as may be, and +it was quite clear he had not taken pattern after the way in which the +little man had bundled himself up together. If the little man had been +a tailor all his life he could not have sat more contentedly upon his +haunches. + +There they were, both master and man, looking down upon the fun that +was going forward; and under them were the priest and piper, and the +father of Darby Riley, with Darby's two brothers and his uncle's son; +and there were both the father and the mother of Bridget Rooney, and +proud enough the old couple were that night of their daughter, as good +right they had; and her four sisters, with bran new ribbons in their +caps, and her three brothers all looking as clean and as clever as any +three boys in Munster, and there were uncles and aunts, and gossips +and cousins enough besides to make a full house of it; and plenty was +there to eat and drink on the table for every one of them, if they had +been double the number. + +Now it happened, just as Mrs. Rooney had helped his reverence to the +first cut of the pig's head which was placed before her, beautifully +bolstered up with white savoys, that the bride gave a sneeze, which +made every one at table start, but not a soul said "God bless us." All +thinking that the priest would have done so, as he ought if he had +done his duty, no one wished to take the word out of his mouth, which, +unfortunately, was preoccupied with pig's head and greens. And after a +moment's pause the fun and merriment of the bridal feast went on +without the pious benediction. + +Of this circumstance both Billy and his master were no inattentive +spectators from their exalted stations. "Ha!" exclaimed the little +man, throwing one leg from under him with a joyous flourish, and his +eye twinkled with a strange light, whilst his eyebrows became elevated +into the curvature of Gothic arches; "Ha!" said he, leering down at +the bride, and then up at Billy, "I have half of her now, surely. Let +her sneeze but twice more, and she is mine, in spite of priest, +mass-book, and Darby Riley." + +Again the fair Bridget sneezed; but it was so gently, and she blushed +so much, that few except the little man took, or seemed to take, any +notice; and no one thought of saying "God bless us." + +Billy all this time regarded the poor girl with a most rueful +expression of countenance; for he could not help thinking what a +terrible thing it was for a nice young girl of nineteen, with large +blue eyes, transparent skin, and dimpled cheeks, suffused with health +and joy, to be obliged to marry an ugly little bit of a man, who was a +thousand years old, barring a day. + +At this critical moment the bride gave a third sneeze, and Billy +roared out with all his might, "God save us!" Whether this exclamation +resulted from his soliloquy, or from the mere force of habit, he never +could tell exactly himself; but no sooner was it uttered than the +little man, his face glowing with rage and disappointment, sprung from +the beam on which he had perched himself, and shrieking out in the +shrill voice of a cracked bagpipe, "I discharge you from my service, +Billy Mac Daniel--take that for your wages," gave poor Billy a most +furious kick in the back, which sent his unfortunate servant sprawling +upon his face and hands right in the middle of the supper-table. + +If Billy was astonished, how much more so was every one of the company +into which he was thrown with so little ceremony. But when they heard +his story, Father Cooney laid down his knife and fork, and married the +young couple out of hand with all speed; and Billy Mac Daniel danced +the Rinka at their wedding, and plenty he did drink at it too, which +was what he thought more of than dancing. + +[Footnote 12: A festival held in honour of some patron saint.] + + + + +FAR DARRIG IN DONEGAL. + +MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK. + + +Pat Diver, the tinker, was a man well-accustomed to a wandering life, +and to strange shelters; he had shared the beggar's blanket in smoky +cabins; he had crouched beside the still in many a nook and corner +where poteen was made on the wild Innishowen mountains; he had even +slept on the bare heather, or on the ditch, with no roof over him but +the vault of heaven; yet were all his nights of adventure tame and +commonplace when compared with one especial night. + +During the day preceding that night, he had mended all the kettles and +saucepans in Moville and Greencastle, and was on his way to Culdaff, +when night overtook him on a lonely mountain road. + +He knocked at one door after another asking for a night's lodging, +while he jingled the halfpence in his pocket, but was everywhere +refused. + +Where was the boasted hospitality of Innishowen, which he had never +before known to fail? It was of no use to be able to pay when the +people seemed so churlish. Thus thinking, he made his way towards a +light a little further on, and knocked at another cabin door. + +An old man and woman were seated one at each side of the fire. + +"Will you be pleased to give me a night's lodging, sir?" asked Pat +respectfully. + +"Can you tell a story?" returned the old man. + +"No, then, sir, I canna say I'm good at story-telling," replied the +puzzled tinker. + +"Then you maun just gang further, for none but them that can tell a +story will get in here." + +This reply was made in so decided a tone that Pat did not attempt to +repeat his appeal, but turned away reluctantly to resume his weary +journey. + +"A story, indeed," muttered he. "Auld wives fables to please the weans!" + +As he took up his bundle of tinkering implements, he observed a barn +standing rather behind the dwelling-house, and, aided by the rising +moon, he made his way towards it. + +It was a clean, roomy barn, with a piled-up heap of straw in one +corner. Here was a shelter not to be despised; so Pat crept under the +straw, and was soon asleep. + +He could not have slept very long when he was awakened by the tramp +of feet, and, peeping cautiously through a crevice in his straw +covering, he saw four immensely tall men enter the barn, dragging a +body, which they threw roughly upon the floor. + +They next lighted a fire in the middle of the barn, and fastened the +corpse by the feet with a great rope to a beam in the roof. One of +them then began to turn it slowly before the fire. "Come on," said he, +addressing a gigantic fellow, the tallest of the four--"I'm tired; you +be to tak' your turn." + +"Faix an' troth, I'll no turn him," replied the big man. "There's Pat +Diver in under the straw, why wouldn't he tak' his turn?" + +With hideous clamour the four men called the wretched Pat, who, seeing +there was no escape, thought it was his wisest plan to come forth as +he was bidden. + +"Now, Pat," said they, "you'll turn the corpse, but if you let him +burn you'll be tied up there and roasted in his place." + +Pat's hair stood on end, and the cold perspiration poured from his +forehead, but there was nothing for it but to perform his dreadful task. + +Seeing him fairly embarked in it, the tall men went away. + +Soon, however, the flames rose so high as to singe the rope, and the +corpse fell with a great thud upon the fire, scattering the ashes and +embers, and extracting a howl of anguish from the miserable cook, who +rushed to the door, and ran for his life. + +He ran on until he was ready to drop with fatigue, when, seeing a +drain overgrown with tall, rank grass, he thought he would creep in +there and lie hidden till morning. + +But he was not many minutes in the drain before he heard the heavy +tramping again, and the four men came up with their burthen, which +they laid down on the edge of the drain. + +"I'm tired," said one, to the giant; "it's your turn to carry him a +piece now." + +"Faix and troth, I'll no carry him," replied he, "but there's Pat +Diver in the drain, why wouldn't he come out and tak' his turn?" + +"Come out, Pat, come out," roared all the men, and Pat, almost dead +with fright, crept out. + +He staggered on under the weight of the corpse until he reached +Kiltown Abbey, a ruin festooned with ivy, where the brown owl hooted +all night long, and the forgotten dead slept around the walls under +dense, matted tangles of brambles and ben-weed. + +No one ever buried there now, but Pat's tall companions turned into +the wild graveyard, and began digging a grave. + +Pat, seeing them thus engaged, thought he might once more try to +escape, and climbed up into a hawthorn tree in the fence, hoping to be +hidden in the boughs. + +"I'm tired," said the man who was digging the grave; "here, take the +spade," addressing the big man, "it's your turn." + +"Faix an' troth, it's no my turn," replied he, as before. "There's Pat +Diver in the tree, why wouldn't he come down and tak' his turn?" + +Pat came down to take the spade, but just then the cocks in the little +farmyards and cabins round the abbey began to crow, and the men looked +at one another. + +"We must go," said they, "and well is it for you, Pat Diver, that the +cocks crowed, for if they had not, you'd just ha' been bundled into +that grave with the corpse." + +Two months passed, and Pat had wandered far and wide over the county +Donegal, when he chanced to arrive at Raphoe during a fair. + +Among the crowd that filled the Diamond he came suddenly on the big man. + +"How are you, Pat Diver?" said he, bending down to look into the +tinker's face. + +"You've the advantage of me, sir, for I havna' the pleasure of knowing +you," faltered Pat. + +"Do you not know me, Pat?" Whisper--"When you go back to Innishowen, +you'll have a story to tell!" + + + + +THE POOKA. + + +The Pooka, _rectè_ Púca, seems essentially an animal spirit. Some +derive his name from _poc_, a he-goat; and speculative persons +consider him the forefather of Shakespere's "Puck." On solitary +mountains and among old ruins he lives, "grown monstrous with much +solitude," and is of the race of the nightmare. "In the MS. story, +called 'Mac-na-Michomhairle,' of uncertain authorship," writes me Mr. +Douglas Hyde, "we read that 'out of a certain hill in Leinster, there +used to emerge as far as his middle, a plump, sleek, terrible steed, +and speak in human voice to each person about November-day, and he was +accustomed to give intelligent and proper answers to such as consulted +him concerning all that would befall them until the November of next +year. And the people used to leave gifts and presents at the hill +until the coming of Patrick and the holy clergy.' This tradition +appears to be a cognate one with that of the Púca." Yes! unless it +were merely an _augh-ishka [each-uisgé]_, or Waterhorse. For these, we +are told, were common once, and used to come out of the water to +gallop on the sands and in the fields, and people would often go +between them and the marge and bridle them, and they would make the +finest of horses if only you could keep them away from sight of the +water; but if once they saw a glimpse of the water, they would plunge +in with their rider, and tear him to pieces at the bottom. It being a +November spirit, however, tells in favour of the Pooka, for +November-day is sacred to the Pooka. It is hard to realise that wild, +staring phantom grown sleek and civil. + +He has many shapes--is now a horse, now an ass, now a bull, now a goat, +now an eagle. Like all spirits, he is only half in the world of form. + + + + +THE PIPER AND THE PUCA. + +DOUGLAS HYDE. + + Translated literally from the Irish of the _Leabhar + Sgeulaigheachta_. + + +In the old times, there was a half fool living in Dunmore, in the county +Galway, and although he was excessively fond of music, he was unable to +learn more than one tune, and that was the "Black Rogue." He used to get +a good deal of money from the gentlemen, for they used to get sport out +of him. One night the piper was coming home from a house where there had +been a dance, and he half drunk. When he came to a little bridge that +was up by his mother's house, he squeezed the pipes on, and began +playing the "Black Rogue" (an rógaire dubh). The Púca came behind him, +and flung him up on his own back. There were long horns on the Púca, and +the piper got a good grip of them, and then he said---- + +"Destruction on you, you nasty beast, let me home. I have a ten-penny +piece in my pocket for my mother, and she wants snuff." + +"Never mind your mother," said the Púca, "but keep your hold. If you +fall, you will break your neck and your pipes." Then the Púca said to +him, "Play up for me the 'Shan Van Vocht' (an t-seann-bhean bhocht)." + +"I don't know it," said the piper. + +"Never mind whether you do or you don't," said the Púca. "Play up, and +I'll make you know." + +The piper put wind in his bag, and he played such music as made +himself wonder. + +"Upon my word, you're a fine music-master," says the piper then; "but +tell me where you're for bringing me." + +"There's a great feast in the house of the Banshee, on the top of +Croagh Patric to-night," says the Púca, "and I'm for bringing you +there to play music, and, take my word, you'll get the price of your +trouble." + +"By my word, you'll save me a journey, then," says the piper, "for +Father William put a journey to Croagh Patric on me, because I stole +the white gander from him last Martinmas." + +The Púca rushed him across hills and bogs and rough places, till he +brought him to the top of Croagh Patric. Then the Púca struck three +blows with his foot, and a great door opened, and they passed in +together, into a fine room. + +The piper saw a golden table in the middle of the room, and hundreds +of old women (cailleacha) sitting round about it. The old women rose +up, and said, "A hundred thousand welcomes to you, you Púca of +November (na Samhna). Who is this you have with you?" + +"The best piper in Ireland," says the Púca. + +One of the old women struck a blow on the ground, and a door opened in +the side of the wall, and what should the piper see coming out but the +white gander which he had stolen from Father William. + +"By my conscience, then," says the piper, "myself and my mother ate +every taste of that gander, only one wing, and I gave that to Moy-rua +(Red Mary), and it's she told the priest I stole his gander." + +The gander cleaned the table, and carried it away, and the Púca said, +"Play up music for these ladies." + +The piper played up, and the old women began dancing, and they were +dancing till they were tired. Then the Púca said to pay the piper, and +every old woman drew out a gold piece, and gave it to him. + +"By the tooth of Patric," said he, "I'm as rich as the son of a lord." + +"Come with me," says the Púca, "and I'll bring you home." + +They went out then, and just as he was going to ride on the Púca, the +gander came up to him, and gave him a new set of pipes. The Púca was +not long until he brought him to Dunmore, and he threw the piper off +at the little bridge, and then he told him to go home, and says to +him, "You have two things now that you never had before--you have +sense and music (ciall agus ceól)." + +The piper went home, and he knocked at his mother's door, saying, "Let +me in, I'm as rich as a lord, and I'm the best piper in Ireland." + +"You're drunk," said the mother. + +"No, indeed," says the piper, "I haven't drunk a drop." + +The mother let him in, and he gave her the gold pieces, and, "Wait +now," says he, "till you hear the music I'll play." + +He buckled on the pipes, but instead of music, there came a sound as +if all the geese and ganders in Ireland were screeching together. He +wakened the neighbours, and they were all mocking him, until he put on +the old pipes, and then he played melodious music for them; and after +that he told them all he had gone through that night. + +The next morning, when his mother went to look at the gold pieces, +there was nothing there but the leaves of a plant. + +The piper went to the priest, and told him his story, but the priest +would not believe a word from him, until he put the pipes on him, and +then the screeching of the ganders and geese began. + +"Leave my sight, you thief," says the priest. + +But nothing would do the piper till he would put the old pipes on him +to show the priest that his story was true. + +He buckled on the old pipes, and he played melodious music, and from +that day till the day of his death, there was never a piper in the +county Galway was as good as he was. + + + + +DANIEL O'ROURKE. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +People may have heard of the renowned adventures of Daniel O'Rourke, +but how few are there who know that the cause of all his perils, above +and below, was neither more nor less than his having slept under the +walls of the Pooka's tower. I knew the man well. He lived at the +bottom of Hungry Hill, just at the right-hand side of the road as you +go towards Bantry. An old man was he, at the time he told me the +story, with grey hair and a red nose; and it was on the 25th of June +1813 that I heard it from his own lips, as he sat smoking his pipe +under the old poplar tree, on as fine an evening as ever shone from +the sky. I was going to visit the caves in Dursey Island, having spent +the morning at Glengariff. + +"I am often _axed_ to tell it, sir," said he, "so that this is not the +first time. The master's son, you see, had come from beyond foreign +parts in France and Spain, as young gentlemen used to go before +Buonaparte or any such was heard of; and sure enough there was a +dinner given to all the people on the ground, gentle and simple, high +and low, rich and poor. The _ould_ gentlemen were the gentlemen after +all, saving your honour's presence. They'd swear at a body a little, +to be sure, and, may be, give one a cut of a whip now and then, but we +were no losers by it in the end; and they were so easy and civil, and +kept such rattling houses, and thousands of welcomes; and there was no +grinding for rent, and there was hardly a tenant on the estate that +did not taste of his landlord's bounty often and often in a year; but +now it's another thing. No matter for that, sir, for I'd better be +telling you my story. + +"Well, we had everything of the best, and plenty of it; and we ate, +and we drank, and we danced, and the young master by the same token +danced with Peggy Barry, from the Bohereen--a lovely young couple they +were, though they are both low enough now. To make a long story short, +I got, as a body may say, the same thing as tipsy almost, for I can't +remember ever at all, no ways, how it was I left the place; only I did +leave it, that's certain. Well, I thought, for all that, in myself, +I'd just step to Molly Cronohan's, the fairy woman, to speak a word +about the bracket heifer that was bewitched; and so as I was crossing +the stepping-stones of the ford of Ballyashenogh, and was looking up +at the stars and blessing myself--for why? it was Lady-day--I missed +my foot, and souse I fell into the water. 'Death alive!' thought I, +'I'll be drowned now!' However, I began swimming, swimming, swimming +away for the dear life, till at last I got ashore, somehow or other, +but never the one of me can tell how, upon a _dissolute_ island. + +"I wandered and wandered about there, without knowing where I +wandered, until at last I got into a big bog. The moon was shining as +bright as day, or your fair lady's eyes, sir (with your pardon for +mentioning her), and I looked east and west, and north and south, and +every way, and nothing did I see but bog, bog, bog--I could never find +out how I got into it; and my heart grew cold with fear, for sure and +certain I was that it would be my _berrin_ place. So I sat down upon a +stone which, as good luck would have it, was close by me, and I began +to scratch my head, and sing the _Ullagone_--when all of a sudden the +moon grew black, and I looked up, and saw something for all the world +as if it was moving down between me and it, and I could not tell what +it was. Down it came with a pounce, and looked at me full in the face; +and what was it but an eagle? as fine a one as ever flew from the +kingdom of Kerry. So he looked at me in the face, and says he to me, +'Daniel O'Rourke,' says he, 'how do you do?' 'Very well, I thank you, +sir,' says I; 'I hope you're well;' wondering out of my senses all the +time how an eagle came to speak like a Christian. 'What brings you +here, Dan,' says he. 'Nothing at all, sir,' says I; 'only I wish I was +safe home again.' 'Is it out of the island you want to go, Dan?' says +he. ''Tis, sir,' says I: so I up and told him how I had taken a drop +too much, and fell into the water; how I swam to the island; and how I +got into the bog and did not know my way out of it. 'Dan,' says he, +after a minute's thought, 'though it is very improper for you to get +drunk on Lady-day, yet as you are a decent sober man, who 'tends mass +well, and never fling stones at me or mine, nor cries out after us in +the fields--my life for yours,' says he; 'so get up on my back, and +grip me well for fear you'd fall off, and I'll fly you out of the +bog.' 'I am afraid,' says I, 'your honour's making game of me; for +who ever heard of riding a horseback on an eagle before?' ''Pon the +honour of a gentleman,' says he, putting his right foot on his breast, +'I am quite in earnest: and so now either take my offer or starve in +the bog--besides, I see that your weight is sinking the stone.' + +"It was true enough as he said, for I found the stone every minute +going from under me. I had no choice; so thinks I to myself, faint +heart never won fair lady, and this is fair persuadance. 'I thank your +honour,' says I, 'for the loan of your civility; and I'll take your +kind offer.' I therefore mounted upon the back of the eagle, and held +him tight enough by the throat, and up he flew in the air like a lark. +Little I knew the trick he was going to serve me. Up--up--up, God +knows how far up he flew. 'Why then,' said I to him--thinking he did +not know the right road home--very civilly, because why? I was in his +power entirely; 'sir,' says I, 'please your honour's glory, and with +humble submission to your better judgment, if you'd fly down a bit, +you're now just over my cabin, and I could be put down there, and many +thanks to your worship.' + +"'_Arrah_, Dan,' said he, 'do you think me a fool? Look down in the next +field, and don't you see two men and a gun? By my word it would be no +joke to be shot this way, to oblige a drunken blackguard that I picked +up off of a _could_ stone in a bog.' 'Bother you,' said I to myself, but +I did not speak out, for where was the use? Well, sir, up he kept, +flying, flying, and I asking him every minute to fly down, and all to no +use. 'Where in the world are you going, sir?' says I to him. 'Hold your +tongue, Dan,' says he: 'mind your own business, and don't be interfering +with the business of other people.' 'Faith, this is my business, I +think,' says I. 'Be quiet, Dan,' says he: so I said no more. + +"At last where should we come to, but to the moon itself. Now you can't +see it from this, but there is, or there was in my time, a reaping-hook +sticking out of the side of the moon, this way (drawing the figure thus +[Illustration] on the ground with the end of his stick). + +"'Dan,' said the eagle, 'I'm tired with this long fly; I had no notion +'twas so far.' 'And my lord, sir,' said I, 'who in the world _axed_ you +to fly so far--was it I? did not I beg and pray and beseech you to stop +half an hour ago?' 'There's no use talking, Dan,' said he; 'I'm tired +bad enough, so you must get off, and sit down on the moon until I rest +myself.' 'Is it sit down on the moon?' said I; 'is it upon that little +round thing, then? why, then, sure I'd fall off in a minute, and be +_kilt_ and spilt, and smashed all to bits; you are a vile deceiver--so +you are.' 'Not at all, Dan,' said he; 'you can catch fast hold of the +reaping-hook that's sticking out of the side of the moon, and 'twill +keep you up.' 'I won't then,' said I. 'May be not,' said he, quite +quiet. 'If you don't, my man, I shall just give you a shake, and one +slap of my wing, and send you down to the ground, where every bone in +your body will be smashed as small as a drop of dew on a cabbage-leaf in +the morning.' 'Why, then, I'm in a fine way,' said I to myself, 'ever to +have come along with the likes of you;' and so giving him a hearty curse +in Irish, for fear he'd know what I said, I got off his back with a +heavy heart, took hold of the reaping-hook, and sat down upon the moon, +and a mighty cold seat it was, I can tell you that. + +"When he had me there fairly landed, he turned about on me, and said, +'Good morning to you, Daniel O'Rourke,' said he; 'I think I've nicked +you fairly now. You robbed my nest last year' ('twas true enough for +him, but how he found it out is hard to say), 'and in return you are +freely welcome to cool your heels dangling upon the moon like a +cockthrow.' + +"'Is that all, and is this the way you leave me, you brute, you,' says +I. 'You ugly unnatural _baste_, and is this the way you serve me at +last? Bad luck to yourself, with your hook'd nose, and to all your +breed, you blackguard.' 'Twas all to no manner of use; he spread out +his great big wings, burst out a laughing, and flew away like +lightning. I bawled after him to stop; but I might have called and +bawled for ever, without his minding me. Away he went, and I never saw +him from that day to this--sorrow fly away with him! You may be sure +I was in a disconsolate condition, and kept roaring out for the bare +grief, when all at once a door opened right in the middle of the moon, +creaking on its hinges as if it had not been opened for a month +before, I suppose they never thought of greasing 'em, and out there +walks--who do you think, but the man in the moon himself? I knew him +by his bush. + +"'Good morrow to you, Daniel O'Rourke,' said he; 'how do you do?' +'Very well, thank your honour,' said I. 'I hope your honour's well.' +'What brought you here, Dan?' said he. So I told him how I was a +little overtaken in liquor at the master's, and how I was cast on a +_dissolute_ island, and how I lost my way in the bog, and how the +thief of an eagle promised to fly me out of it, and how, instead of +that, he had fled me up to the moon. + +"'Dan,' said the man in the moon, taking a pinch of snuff when I was +done, 'you must not stay here.' 'Indeed, sir,' says I, ''tis much +against my will I'm here at all; but how am I to go back?' 'That's +your business,' said he; 'Dan, mine is to tell you that here you must +not stay; so be off in less than no time.' 'I'm doing no harm,' says +I, 'only holding on hard by the reaping-hook, lest I fall off.' +'That's what you must not do, Dan,' says he. 'Pray, sir,' says I, 'may +I ask how many you are in family, that you would not give a poor +traveller lodging: I'm sure 'tis not so often you're troubled with +strangers coming to see you, for 'tis a long way.' 'I'm by myself, +Dan,' says he; 'but you'd better let go the reaping-hook.' 'Faith, and +with your leave,' says I, 'I'll not let go the grip, and the more you +bids me, the more I won't let go;--so I will.' 'You had better, Dan,' +says he again. 'Why, then, my little fellow,' says I, taking the whole +weight of him with my eye from head to foot, 'there are two words to +that bargain; and I'll not budge, but you may if you like.' 'We'll see +how that is to be,' says he; and back he went, giving the door such a +great bang after him (for it was plain he was huffed) that I thought +the moon and all would fall down with it. + +"Well, I was preparing myself to try strength with him, when back +again he comes, with the kitchen cleaver in his hand, and, without +saying a word, he gives two bangs to the handle of the reaping-hook +that was keeping me up, and _whap!_ it came in two. 'Good morning to +you, Dan,' says the spiteful little old blackguard, when he saw me +cleanly falling down with a bit of the handle in my hand; 'I thank you +for your visit, and fair weather after you, Daniel.' I had not time to +make any answer to him, for I was tumbling over and over, and rolling +and rolling, at the rate of a fox-hunt. 'God help me!' says I, 'but +this is a pretty pickle for a decent man to be seen in at this time of +night: I am now sold fairly.' The word was not out of my mouth when, +whiz! what should fly by close to my ear but a flock of wild geese, +all the way from my own bog of Ballyasheenogh, else how should they +know _me_? The _ould_ gander, who was their general, turning about his +head, cried out to me, 'Is that you, Dan?' 'The same,' said I, not a +bit daunted now at what he said, for I was by this time used to all +kinds of _bedevilment_, and, besides, I knew him of _ould_. 'Good +morrow to you,' says he, 'Daniel O'Rourke; how are you in health this +morning?' 'Very well, sir,' says I, 'I thank you kindly,' drawing my +breath, for I was mightily in want of some. 'I hope your honour's the +same.' 'I think 'tis falling you are, Daniel,' says he. 'You may say +that, sir,' says I. 'And where are you going all the way so fast?' +said the gander. So I told him how I had taken the drop, and how I +came on the island, and how I lost my way in the bog, and how the +thief of an eagle flew me up to the moon, and how the man in the moon +turned me out. 'Dan,' said he, 'I'll save you: put out your hand and +catch me by the leg, and I'll fly you home.' 'Sweet is your hand in a +pitcher of honey, my jewel,' says I, though all the time I thought +within myself that I don't much trust you; but there was no help, so I +caught the gander by the leg, and away I and the other geese flew +after him as fast as hops. + +"We flew, and we flew, and we flew, until we came right over the wide +ocean. I knew it well, for I saw Cape Clear to my right hand, sticking +up out of the water. 'Ah, my lord,' said I to the goose, for I +thought it best to keep a civil tongue in my head any way, 'fly to +land if you please.' 'It is impossible, you see, Dan,' said he, 'for a +while, because you see we are going to Arabia.' 'To Arabia!' said I; +'that's surely some place in foreign parts, far away. Oh! Mr. Goose: +why then, to be sure, I'm a man to be pitied among you.' 'Whist, +whist, you fool,' said he, 'hold your tongue; I tell you Arabia is a +very decent sort of place, as like West Carbery as one egg is like +another, only there is a little more sand there.' + +"Just as we were talking, a ship hove in sight, scudding so beautiful +before the wind. 'Ah! then, sir,' said I, 'will you drop me on the +ship, if you please?' 'We are not fair over it,' said he; 'if I +dropped you now you would go splash into the sea.' 'I would not,' says +I; 'I know better than that, for it is just clean under us, so let me +drop now at once.' + +"'If you must, you must,' said he; 'there, take your own way;' and he +opened his claw, and faith he was right--sure enough I came down plump +into the very bottom of the salt sea! Down to the very bottom I went, +and I gave myself up then for ever, when a whale walked up to me, +scratching himself after his night's sleep, and looked me full in the +face, and never the word did he say, but lifting up his tail, he +splashed me all over again with the cold salt water till there wasn't +a dry stitch upon my whole carcass! and I heard somebody saying--'twas +a voice I knew, too--'Get up, you drunken brute, off o' that;' and +with that I woke up, and there was Judy with a tub full of water, +which she was splashing all over me--for, rest her soul! though she +was a good wife, she never could bear to see me in drink, and had a +bitter hand of her own. + +"'Get up,' said she again: 'and of all places in the parish would no +place _sarve_ your turn to lie down upon but under the _ould_ walls of +Carrigapooka? uneasy resting I am sure you had of it.' And sure enough +I had: for I was fairly bothered out of my senses with eagles, and men +of the moons, and flying ganders, and whales, driving me through +bogs, and up to the moon, and down to the bottom of the green ocean. +If I was in drink ten times over, long would it be before I'd lie down +in the same spot again, I know that." + + + + +THE KILDARE POOKA.[13] + +PATRICK KENNEDY. + + +Mr. H---- R----, when he was alive, used to live a good deal in +Dublin, and he was once a great while out of the country on account of +the "ninety-eight" business. But the servants kept on in the big house +at Rath---- all the same as if the family was at home. Well, they used +to be frightened out of their lives after going to their beds with the +banging of the kitchen-door, and the clattering of fire-irons, and the +pots and plates and dishes. One evening they sat up ever so long, +keeping one another in heart with telling stories about ghosts and +fetches, and that when--what would you have of it?--the little +scullery boy that used to be sleeping over the horses, and could not +get room at the fire, crept into the hot hearth, and when he got tired +listening to the stories, sorra fear him, but he fell dead asleep. + +Well and good, after they were all gone and the kitchen fire raked up, +he was woke with the noise of the kitchen door opening, and the +trampling of an ass on the kitchen floor. He peeped out, and what +should he see but a big ass, sure enough, sitting on his curabingo and +yawning before the fire. After a little he looked about him, and began +scratching his ears as if he was quite tired, and says he, "I may as +well begin first as last." The poor boy's teeth began to chatter in +his head, for says he, "Now he's goin' to ate me;" but the fellow with +the long ears and tail on him had something else to do. He stirred the +fire, and then he brought in a pail of water from the pump, and +filled a big pot that he put on the fire before he went out. He then +put in his hand--foot, I mean--into the hot hearth, and pulled out the +little boy. He let a roar out of him with the fright, but the pooka +only looked at him, and thrust out his lower lip to show how little he +valued him, and then he pitched him into his pew again. + +Well, he then lay down before the fire till he heard the boil coming +on the water, and maybe there wasn't a plate, or a dish, or a spoon on +the dresser that he didn't fetch and put into the pot, and wash and +dry the whole bilin' of 'em as well as e'er a kitchen-maid from that +to Dublin town. He then put all of them up on their places on the +shelves; and if he didn't give a good sweepin' to the kitchen, leave +it till again. Then he comes and sits foment the boy, let down one of +his ears, and cocked up the other, and gave a grin. The poor fellow +strove to roar out, but not a dheeg 'ud come out of his throat. The +last thing the pooka done was to rake up the fire, and walk out, +giving such a slap o' the door, that the boy thought the house +couldn't help tumbling down. + +Well, to be sure if there wasn't a hullabullo next morning when the +poor fellow told his story! They could talk of nothing else the whole +day. One said one thing, another said another, but a fat, lazy +scullery girl said the wittiest thing of all. "Musha!" says she, "if +the pooka does be cleaning up everything that way when we are asleep, +what should we be slaving ourselves for doing his work?" "_Shu gu +dheine_,"[14] says another; "them's the wisest words you ever said, +Kauth; it's meeself won't contradict you." + +So said, so done. Not a bit of a plate or dish saw a drop of water +that evening, and not a besom was laid on the floor, and every one +went to bed soon after sundown. Next morning everything was as fine as +fine in the kitchen, and the lord mayor might eat his dinner off the +flags. It was great ease to the lazy servants, you may depend, and +everything went on well till a foolhardy gag of a boy said he would +stay up one night and have a chat with the pooka. + +He was a little daunted when the door was thrown open and the ass +marched up to the fire. + +"An then, sir," says he, at last, picking up courage, "if it isn't +taking a liberty, might I ax who you are, and why you are so kind as +to do half of the day's work for the girls every night?" "No liberty +at all," says the pooka, says he: "I'll tell you, and welcome. I was a +servant in the time of Squire R.'s father, and was the laziest rogue +that ever was clothed and fed, and done nothing for it. When my time +came for the other world, this is the punishment was laid on me--to +come here and do all this labour every night, and then go out in the +cold. It isn't so bad in the fine weather; but if you only knew what +it is to stand with your head between your legs, facing the storm, +from midnight to sunrise, on a bleak winter night." "And could we do +anything for your comfort, my poor fellow?" says the boy. "Musha, I +don't know," says the pooka; "but I think a good quilted frieze coat +would help to keep the life in me them long nights." "Why then, in +troth, we'd be the ungratefullest of people if we didn't feel for you." + +To make a long story short, the next night but two the boy was there +again; and if he didn't delight the poor pooka, holding up a fine warm +coat before him, it's no mather! Betune the pooka and the man, his +legs was got into the four arms of it, and it was buttoned down the +breast and the belly, and he was so pleazed he walked up to the glass +to see how he looked. "Well," says he, "it's a long lane that has no +turning. I am much obliged to you and your fellow-servants. You have +made me happy at last. Good-night to you." + +So he was walking out, but the other cried, "Och! sure your going too +soon. What about the washing and sweeping?" "Ah, you may tell the +girls that they must now get their turn. My punishment was to last +till I was thought worthy of a reward for the way I done my duty. +You'll see me no more." And no more they did, and right sorry they +were for having been in such a hurry to reward the ungrateful pooka. + +[Footnote 13: _Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts._--Macmillan.] + +[Footnote 14: Meant for _seadh go deimhin_--_i.e._, yes, indeed.] + + + + +THE SOLITARY FAIRIES. + +THE BANSHEE. + + + [The _banshee_ (from _ban [bean]_, a woman, and _shee [sidhe]_, a + fairy) is an attendant fairy that follows the old families, and + none but them, and wails before a death. Many have seen her as + she goes wailing and clapping her hands. The keen [_caoine_], the + funeral cry of the peasantry, is said to be an imitation of her + cry. When more than one banshee is present, and they wail and + sing in chorus, it is for the death of some holy or great one. An + omen that sometimes accompanies the banshee is the _coach-a-bower + [cóiste-bodhar]_--an immense black coach, mounted by a coffin, + and drawn by headless horses driven by a _Dullahan_. It will go + rumbling to your door, and if you open it, according to Croker, a + basin of blood will be thrown in your face. These headless + phantoms are found elsewhere than in Ireland. In 1807 two of the + sentries stationed outside St. James's Park died of fright. A + headless woman, the upper part of her body naked, used to pass at + midnight and scale the railings. After a time the sentries were + stationed no longer at the haunted spot. In Norway the heads of + corpses were cut off to make their ghosts feeble. Thus came into + existence the _Dullahans_, perhaps; unless, indeed, they are + descended from that Irish giant who swam across the Channel with + his head in his teeth.--ED.] + + + + +HOW THOMAS CONNOLLY MET THE BANSHEE. + +J. TODHUNTER. + + +Aw, the banshee, sir? Well, sir, as I was striving to tell ye, I was +going home from work one day, from Mr. Cassidy's that I tould ye of, +in the dusk o' the evening. I had more nor a mile--aye, it was nearer +two mile--to thrack to, where I was lodgin' with a dacent widdy woman +I knew, Biddy Maguire be name, so as to be near me work. + +It was the first week in November, an' a lonesome road I had to +travel, an' dark enough, wid threes above it; an' about half-ways +there was a bit of a brudge I had to cross, over one o' them little +sthrames that runs into the Doddher. I walked on in the middle iv the +road, for there was no toe-path at that time, Misther Harry, nor for +many a long day afther that; but, as I was sayin', I walked along till +I come nigh upon the brudge, where the road was a bit open, an' there, +right enough, I seen the hog's back o' the ould-fashioned brudge that +used to be there till it was pulled down, an' a white mist steamin' up +out o' the wather all around it. + +Well, now, Misther Harry, often as I'd passed by the place before, +that night it seemed sthrange to me, an' like a place ye might see in +a dhrame; an' as I come up to it I began to feel a could wind blowin' +through the hollow o' me heart. "Musha Thomas," sez I to meself, "is +it yerself that's in it?" sez I; "or, if it is, what's the matter wid +ye at all, at all?" sez I; so I put a bould face on it, an' I made a +sthruggle to set one leg afore the other, ontil I came to the rise o' +the brudge. And there, God be good to us! in a cantle o' the wall I +seen an ould woman, as I thought, sittin' on her hunkers, all crouched +together, an' her head bowed down, seemin'ly in the greatest affliction. + +Well, sir, I pitied the ould craythur, an' thought I wasn't worth a +thraneen, for the mortial fright I was in, I up an' sez to her, +"That's a cowld lodgin' for ye, ma'am." Well, the sorra ha'porth she +sez to that, nor tuk no more notice o' me than if I hadn't let a word +out o' me, but kep' rockin' herself to an' fro, as if her heart was +breakin'; so I sez to her again, "Eh, ma'am, is there anythin' the +matther wid ye?" An' I made for to touch her on the shouldher, on'y +somethin' stopt me, for as I looked closer at her I saw she was no +more an ould woman nor she was an ould cat. The first thing I tuk +notice to, Misther Harry, was her hair, that was sthreelin' down +over his showldhers, an' a good yard on the ground on aich side of +her. O, be the hoky farmer, but that was the hair! The likes of it I +never seen on mortial woman, young or ould, before nor sense. It grew +as sthrong out of her as out of e'er a young slip of a girl ye could +see; but the colour of it was a misthery to describe. The first squint +I got of it I thought it was silvery grey, like an ould crone's; but +when I got up beside her I saw, be the glance o' the sky, it was a +soart iv an Iscariot colour, an' a shine out of it like floss silk. It +ran over her showldhers and the two shapely arms she was lanin' her +head on, for all the world like Mary Magdalen's in a picther; and then +I persaved that the grey cloak and the green gownd undhernaith it was +made of no earthly matarial I ever laid eyes on. Now, I needn't tell +ye, sir, that I seen all this in the twinkle of a bed-post--long as I +take to make the narration of it. So I made a step back from her, an' +"The Lord be betune us an' harm!" sez I, out loud, an' wid that I +blessed meself. Well, Misther Harry, the word wasn't out o' me mouth +afore she turned her face on me. Aw, Misther Harry, but 'twas that was +the awfullest apparation ever I seen, the face of her as she looked up +at me! God forgive me for sayin' it, but 'twas more like the face of +the "Axy Homo" beyand in Marlboro' Sthreet Chapel nor like any face I +could mintion--as pale as a corpse, an' a most o' freckles on it, like +the freckles on a turkey's egg; an' the two eyes sewn in wid red +thread, from the terrible power o' crying the' had to do; an' such a +pair iv eyes as the' wor, Misther Harry, as blue as two +forget-me-nots, an' as cowld as the moon in a bog-hole of a frosty +night, an' a dead-an'-live look in them that sent a cowld shiver +through the marra o' me bones. Be the mortial! ye could ha' rung a tay +cupful o' cowld paspiration out o' the hair o' me head that minute, so +ye could. Well, I thought the life 'ud lave me intirely when she riz +up from her hunkers, till, bedad! she looked mostly as tall as +Nelson's Pillar; an' wid the two eyes gazin' back at me, an' her two +arms stretched out before hor, an' a keine out of her that riz the +hair o' me scalp till it was as stiff as the hog's bristles in a new +hearth broom, away she glides--glides round the angle o' the brudge, +an' down with her into the sthrame that ran undhernaith it. 'Twas then +I began to suspect what she was. "Wisha, Thomas!" says I to meself, +sez I; an' I made a great struggle to get me two legs into a throt, in +spite o' the spavin o' fright the pair o' them wor in; an' how I +brought meself home that same night the Lord in heaven only knows, for +I never could tell; but I must ha' tumbled agin the door, and shot in +head foremost into the middle o' the flure, where I lay in a dead +swoon for mostly an hour; and the first I knew was Mrs. Maguire +stannin' over me with a jorum o' punch she was pourin' down me throath +(throat), to bring back the life into me, an' me head in a pool of +cowld wather she dashed over me in her first fright. "Arrah, Mister +Connolly," shashee, "what ails ye?" shashee, "to put the scare on a +lone woman like that?" shashee. "Am I in this world or the next?" sez +I. "Musha! where else would ye be on'y here in my kitchen?" shashee. +"O, glory be to God!" sez I, "but I thought I was in Purgathory at the +laste, not to mintion an uglier place," sez I, "only it's too cowld I +find meself, an' not too hot," sez I. "Faix, an' maybe ye wor more nor +half-ways there, on'y for me," shashee; "but what's come to you at +all, at all? Is it your fetch ye seen, Mister Connolly?" "Aw, +naboclish!"[15] sez I. "Never mind what I seen," sez I. So be degrees +I began to come to a little; an' that's the way I met the banshee, +Misther Harry! + +"But how did you know it really was the banshee after all, Thomas?" + +"Begor, sir, I knew the apparation of her well enough; but 'twas +confirmed by a sarcumstance that occurred the same time. There was a +Misther O'Nales was come on a visit, ye must know, to a place in the +neighbourhood--one o' the ould O'Nales iv the county Tyrone, a rale +ould Irish family--an' the banshee was heard keening round the house +that same night, be more then one that was in it; an' sure enough, +Misther Harry, he was found dead in his bed the next mornin'. So if it +wasn't the banshee I seen that time, I'd like to know what else it +could a' been." + +[Footnote 15: _Na bac leis_--_i.e._, don't mind it.] + + + + +A LAMENTATION + +_For the Death of Sir Maurice Fitzgerald, Knight, of Kerry, who was +killed in Flanders, 1642._ + +FROM THE IRISH, BY CLARENCE MANGAN. + + + There was lifted up one voice of woe, + One lament of more than mortal grief, + Through the wide South to and fro, + For a fallen Chief. + In the dead of night that cry thrilled through me, + I looked out upon the midnight air? + My own soul was all as gloomy, + As I knelt in prayer. + + O'er Loch Gur, that night, once--twice--yea, thrice-- + Passed a wail of anguish for the Brave + That half curled into ice + Its moon-mirroring wave. + Then uprose a many-toned wild hymn in + Choral swell from Ogra's dark ravine, + And Mogeely's Phantom Women + Mourned the Geraldine! + + Far on Carah Mona's emerald plains + Shrieks and sighs were blended many hours. + And Fermoy in fitful strains + Answered from her towers. + Youghal, Keenalmeaky, Eemokilly, + Mourned in concert, and their piercing keen + Woke to wondering life the stilly + Glens of Inchiqueen. + + From Loughmoe to yellow Dunanore + There was fear; the traders of Tralee + Gathered up their golden store, + And prepared to flee; + For, in ship and hall from night till morning, + Showed the first faint beamings of the sun, + All the foreigners heard the warning + Of the Dreaded One! + + "This," they spake, "portendeth death to us, + If we fly not swiftly from our fate!" + Self-conceited idiots! thus + Ravingly to prate! + Not for base-born higgling Saxon trucksters + Ring laments like those by shore and sea! + Not for churls with souls like hucksters + Waileth our Banshee! + + For the high Milesian race alone + Ever flows the music of her woe! + For slain heir to bygone throne, + And for Chief laid low! + Hark!... Again, methinks, I hear her weeping + Yonder! Is she near me now, as then? + Or was but the night-wind sweeping + Down the hollow glen? + + + + +THE BANSHEE OF THE MAC CARTHYS. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +Charles Mac Carthy was, in the year 1749, the only surviving son of a +very numerous family. His father died when he was little more than +twenty, leaving him the Mac Carthy estate, not much encumbered, +considering that it was an Irish one. Charles was gay, handsome, +unfettered either by poverty, a father, or guardians, and therefore +was not, at the age of one-and-twenty, a pattern of regularity and +virtue. In plain terms, he was an exceedingly dissipated--I fear I may +say debauched, young man. His companions were, as may be supposed, of +the higher classes of the youth in his neighbourhood, and, in general, +of those whose fortunes were larger than his own, whose dispositions +to pleasure were, therefore, under still less restrictions, and in +whose example he found at once an incentive and an apology for his +irregularities. Besides, Ireland, a place to this day not very +remarkable for the coolness and steadiness of its youth, was then one +of the cheapest countries in the world in most of those articles which +money supplies for the indulgence of the passions. The odious +exciseman,--with his portentous book in one hand, his unrelenting +pen held in the other, or stuck beneath his hat-band, and the +ink-bottle ('black emblem of the informer') dangling from his +waistcoat-button--went not then from ale-house to ale-house, +denouncing all those patriotic dealers in spirits, who preferred +selling whiskey, which had nothing to do with English laws (but to +elude them), to retailing that poisonous liquor, which derived its +name from the British "Parliament" that compelled its circulation +among a reluctant people. Or if the gauger--recording angel of the +law--wrote down the peccadillo of a publican, he dropped a tear upon +the word, and blotted it out for ever! For, welcome to the tables of +their hospitable neighbours, the guardians of the excise, where they +existed at all, scrupled to abridge those luxuries which they freely +shared; and thus the competition in the market between the smuggler, +who incurred little hazard, and the personage ycleped fair trader, who +enjoyed little protection, made Ireland a land flowing, not merely +with milk and honey, but with whiskey and wine. In the enjoyments +supplied by these, and in the many kindred pleasures to which frail +youth is but too prone, Charles Mac Carthy indulged to such a degree, +that just about the time when he had completed his four-and-twentieth +year, after a week of great excesses, he was seized with a violent +fever, which, from its malignity, and the weakness of his frame, left +scarcely a hope of his recovery. His mother, who had at first made +many efforts to check his vices, and at last had been obliged to look +on at his rapid progress to ruin in silent despair, watched day and +night at his pillow. The anguish of parental feeling was blended with +that still deeper misery which those only know who have striven hard +to rear in virtue and piety a beloved and favourite child; have found +him grow up all that their hearts could desire, until he reached +manhood; and then, when their pride was highest, and their hopes +almost ended in the fulfilment of their fondest expectations, have +seen this idol of their affections plunge headlong into a course of +reckless profligacy, and, after a rapid career of vice, hang upon the +verge of eternity, without the leisure or the power of repentance. +Fervently she prayed that, if his life could not be spared, at least +the delirium, which continued with increasing violence from the first +few hours of his disorder, might vanish before death, and leave enough +of light and of calm for making his peace with offended Heaven. After +several days, however, nature seemed quite exhausted, and he sunk into +a state too like death to be mistaken for the repose of sleep. His +face had that pale, glossy, marble look, which is in general so sure a +symptom that life has left its tenement of clay. His eyes were closed +and sunk; the lids having that compressed and stiffened appearance +which seemed to indicate that some friendly hand had done its last +office. The lips, half closed and perfectly ashy, discovered just so +much of the teeth as to give to the features of death their most +ghastly, but most impressive look. He lay upon his back, with his +hands stretched beside him, quite motionless; and his distracted +mother, after repeated trials, could discover not the least symptom of +animation. The medical man who attended, having tried the usual modes +for ascertaining the presence of life, declared at last his opinion +that it was flown, and prepared to depart from the house of mourning. +His horse was seen to come to the door. A crowd of people who were +collected before the windows, or scattered in groups on the lawn in +front, gathered around when the door opened. These were tenants, +fosterers, and poor relations of the family, with others attracted by +affection, or by that interest which partakes of curiosity, but is +something more, and which collects the lower ranks round a house where +a human being is in his passage to another world. They saw the +professional man come out from the hall door and approach his horse; +and while slowly, and with a melancholy air, he prepared to mount, +they clustered round him with inquiring and wistful looks. Not a word +was spoken, but their meaning could not be misunderstood; and the +physician, when he had got into his saddle, and while the servant was +still holding the bridle as if to delay him, and was looking anxiously +at his face as if expecting that he would relieve the general +suspense, shook his head, and said in a low voice, "It's all over, +James;" and moved slowly away. The moment he had spoken, the women +present, who were very numerous, uttered a shrill cry, which, having +been sustained for about half a minute, fell suddenly into a full, +loud, continued, and discordant but plaintive wailing, above which +occasionally were heard the deep sounds of a man's voice, sometimes in +deep sobs, sometimes in more distinct exclamations of sorrow. This was +Charles's foster-brother, who moved about the crowd, now clapping his +hands, now rubbing them together in an agony of grief. The poor fellow +had been Charles's playmate and companion when a boy, and afterwards +his servant; had always been distinguished by his peculiar regard, and +loved his young master as much, at least, as he did his own life. + +When Mrs. Mac Carthy became convinced that the blow was indeed struck, +and that her beloved son was sent to his last account, even in the +blossoms of his sin, she remained for some time gazing with fixedness +upon his cold features; then, as if something had suddenly touched the +string of her tenderest affections, tear after tear trickled down her +cheeks, pale with anxiety and watching. Still she continued looking at +her son, apparently unconscious that she was weeping, without once +lifting her handkerchief to her eyes, until reminded of the sad duties +which the custom of the country imposed upon her, by the crowd of +females belonging to the better class of the peasantry, who now, +crying audibly, nearly filled the apartment. She then withdrew, to +give directions for the ceremony of waking, and for supplying the +numerous visitors of all ranks with the refreshments usual on these +melancholy occasions. Though her voice was scarcely heard, and though +no one saw her but the servants and one or two old followers of the +family, who assisted her in the necessary arrangements, everything was +conducted with the greatest regularity; and though she made no effort +to check her sorrows they never once suspended her attention, now more +than ever required to preserve order in her household, which, in this +season of calamity, but for her would have been all confusion. + +The night was pretty far advanced; the boisterous lamentations which had +prevailed during part of the day in and about the house had given place +to a solemn and mournful stillness; and Mrs. Mac Carthy, whose heart, +notwithstanding her long fatigue and watching, was yet too sore for +sleep, was kneeling in fervent prayer in a chamber adjoining that of her +son. Suddenly her devotions were disturbed by an unusual noise, +proceeding from the persons who were watching round the body. First +there was a low murmur, then all was silent, as if the movements of +those in the chamber were checked by a sudden panic, and then a loud cry +of terror burst from all within. The door of the chamber was thrown +open, and all who were not overturned in the press rushed wildly into +the passage which led to the stairs, and into which Mrs. Mac Carthy's +room opened. Mrs. Mac Carthy made her way through the crowd into her +son's chamber, where she found him sitting up in the bed, and looking +vacantly around, like one risen from the grave. The glare thrown upon +his sunk features and thin lathy frame gave an unearthy horror to his +whole aspect. Mrs. Mac Carthy was a woman of some firmness; but she was +a woman, and not quite free from the superstitions of her country. She +dropped on her knees, and, clasping her hands, began to pray aloud. The +form before her moved only its lips, and barely uttered "Mother"; but +though the pale lips moved, as if there was a design to finish the +sentence, the tongue refused its office. Mrs. Mac Carthy sprung forward, +and catching the arm of her son, exclaimed, "Speak! in the name of God +and His saints, speak! are you alive?" + +He turned to her slowly, and said, speaking still with apparent +difficulty, "Yes, my mother, alive, and--but sit down and collect +yourself; I have that to tell which will astonish you still more than +what you have seen." He leaned back upon his pillow, and while his +mother remained kneeling by the bedside, holding one of his hands +clasped in hers, and gazing on him with the look of one who distrusted +all her senses, he proceeded: "Do not interrupt me until I have done. +I wish to speak while the excitement of returning life is upon me, as +I know I shall soon need much repose. Of the commencement of my +illness I have only a confused recollection; but within the last +twelve hours I have been before the judgment-seat of God. Do not stare +incredulously on me--'tis as true as have been my crimes, and as, I +trust, shall be repentance. I saw the awful Judge arrayed in all the +terrors which invest him when mercy gives place to justice. The +dreadful pomp of offended omnipotence, I saw--I remember. It is fixed +here; printed on my brain in characters indelible; but it passeth +human language. What I _can_ describe I _will_--I may speak it +briefly. It is enough to say, I was weighed in the balance, and found +wanting. The irrevocable sentence was upon the point of being +pronounced; the eye of my Almighty Judge, which had already glanced +upon me, half spoke my doom; when I observed the guardian saint, to +whom you so often directed my prayers when I was a child, looking at +me with an expression of benevolence and compassion. I stretched forth +my hands to him, and besought his intercession. I implored that one +year, one month, might be given to me on earth to do penance and +atonement for my transgressions. He threw himself at the feet of my +Judge, and supplicated for mercy. Oh! never--not if I should pass +through ten thousand successive states of being--never, for eternity, +shall I forget the horrors of that moment, when my fate hung +suspended--when an instant was to decide whether torments unutterable +were to be my portion for endless ages! But Justice suspended its +decree, and Mercy spoke in accents of firmness, but mildness, 'Return +to that world in which thou hast lived but to outrage the laws of Him +who made that world and thee. Three years are given thee for +repentance; when these are ended, thou shalt again stand here, to be +saved or lost for ever.' I heard no more; I saw no more, until I awoke +to life, the moment before you entered." + +Charles's strength continued just long enough to finish these last +words, and on uttering them he closed his eyes, and lay quite +exhausted. His mother, though, as was before said, somewhat disposed +to give credit to supernatural visitations, yet hesitated whether or +not she should believe that, although awakened from a swoon which +might have been the crisis of his disease, he was still under the +influence of delirium. Repose, however, was at all events necessary, +and she took immediate measures that he should enjoy it undisturbed. +After some hours' sleep, he awoke refreshed, and thenceforward +gradually but steadily recovered. + +Still he persisted in his account of the vision, as he had at first +related it; and his persuasion of its reality had an obvious and +decided influence on his habits and conduct. He did not altogether +abandon the society of his former associates, for his temper was not +soured by his reformation; but he never joined in their excesses, and +often endeavoured to reclaim them. How his pious exertions succeeded, +I have never learnt; but of himself it is recorded that he was +religious without ostentation, and temperate without austerity; giving +a practical proof that vice may be exchanged for virtue, without the +loss of respectability, popularity, or happiness. + +Time rolled on, and long before the three years were ended the story +of his vision was forgotten, or, when spoken of, was usually mentioned +as an instance proving the folly of believing in such things. +Charles's health, from the temperance and regularity of his habits, +became more robust than ever. His friends, indeed, had often occasion +to rally him upon a seriousness and abstractedness of demeanour, +which grew upon him as he approached the completion of his +seven-and-twentieth year, but for the most part his manner exhibited +the same animation and cheerfulness for which he had always been +remarkable. In company he evaded every endeavour to draw from him a +distinct opinion on the subject of the supposed prediction; but among +his own family it was well known that he still firmly believed it. +However, when the day had nearly arrived on which the prophecy was, if +at all, to be fulfilled, his whole appearance gave such promise of a +long and healthy life, that he was persuaded by his friends to ask a +large party to an entertainment at Spring House, to celebrate his +birthday. But the occasion of this party, and the circumstances which +attended it, will be best learned from a perusal of the following +letters, which have been carefully preserved by some relations of his +family. The first is from Mrs. Mac Carthy to a lady, a very near +connection and valued friend of her's, who lived in the county of +Cork, at about fifty miles' distance from Spring House. + + "TO MRS. BARRY, CASTLE BARRY. + + "_Spring House, Tuesday morning, + October 15th, 1752._ + + "MY DEAREST MARY, + +"I am afraid I am going to put your affection for your old friend and +kinswoman to a severe trial. A two days' journey at this season, over +bad roads and through a troubled country, it will indeed require +friendship such as yours to persuade a sober woman to encounter. But +the truth is, I have, or fancy I have, more than usual cause for +wishing you near me. You know my son's story. I can't tell you how it +is, but as next Sunday approaches, when the prediction of his dream, +or vision, will be proved false or true, I feel a sickening of the +heart, which I cannot suppress, but which your presence, my dear Mary, +will soften, as it has done so many of my sorrows. My nephew, James +Ryan, is to be married to Jane Osborne (who, you know, is my son's +ward), and the bridal entertainment will take place here on Sunday +next, though Charles pleaded hard to have it postponed for a day or +two longer. Would to God--but no more of this till we meet. Do prevail +upon yourself to leave your good man for _one_ week, if his farming +concerns will not admit of his accompanying you; and come to us, with +the girls, as soon before Sunday as you can. + +"Ever my dear Mary's attached cousin and friend, + + "ANN MAC CARTHY." + +Although this letter reached Castle Barry early on Wednesday, the +messenger having travelled on foot over bog and moor, by paths +impassable to horse or carriage, Mrs. Barry, who at once determined on +going, had so many arrangements to make for the regulation of her +domestic affairs (which, in Ireland, among the middle orders of the +gentry, fall soon into confusion when the mistress of the family is +away), that she and her two young daughters were unable to leave until +late on the morning of Friday. The eldest daughter remained to keep +her father company, and superintend the concerns of the household. As +the travellers were to journey in an open one-horse vehicle, called a +jaunting-car (still used in Ireland), and as the roads, bad at all +times, were rendered still worse by the heavy rains, it was their +design to make two easy stages--to stop about midway the first night, +and reach Spring House early on Saturday evening. This arrangement was +now altered, as they found that from the lateness of their departure +they could proceed, at the utmost, no farther than twenty miles on +the first day; and they, therefore, purposed sleeping at the house of +a Mr. Bourke, a friend of theirs, who lived at somewhat less than that +distance from Castle Barry. They reached Mr. Bourke's in safety after +a rather disagreeable ride. What befell them on their journey the next +day to Spring House, and after their arrival there, is fully recounted +in a letter from the second Miss Barry to her eldest sister. + + "_Spring House, Sunday evening, + 20th October 1752._ + + "DEAR ELLEN, + +"As my mother's letter, which encloses this, will announce to you +briefly the sad intelligence which I shall here relate more fully, I +think it better to go regularly through the recital of the +extraordinary events of the last two days. + +"The Bourkes kept us up so late on Friday night that yesterday was +pretty far advanced before we could begin our journey, and the day +closed when we were nearly fifteen miles distant from this place. The +roads were excessively deep, from the heavy rains of the last week, +and we proceeded so slowly that, at last, my mother resolved on +passing the night at the house of Mr. Bourke's brother (who lives +about a quarter-of-a-mile off the road), and coming here to breakfast +in the morning. The day had been windy and showery, and the sky looked +fitful, gloomy, and uncertain. The moon was full, and at times shone +clear and bright; at others it was wholly concealed behind the thick, +black, and rugged masses of clouds that rolled rapidly along, and were +every moment becoming larger, and collecting together as if gathering +strength for a coming storm. The wind, which blew in our faces, +whistled bleakly along the low hedges of the narrow road, on which we +proceeded with difficulty from the number of deep sloughs, and which +afforded not the least shelter, no plantation being within some miles +of us. My mother, therefore, asked Leary, who drove the jaunting-car, +how far we were from Mr. Bourke's? ''Tis about ten spades from this +to the cross, and we have then only to turn to the left into the +avenue, ma'am.' 'Very well, Leary; turn up to Mr. Bourke's as soon as +you reach the cross roads.' My mother had scarcely spoken these words, +when a shriek, that made us thrill as if our very hearts were pierced +by it, burst from the hedge to the right of our way. If it resembled +anything earthly it seemed the cry of a female, struck by a sudden and +mortal blow, and giving out her life in one long deep pang of expiring +agony. 'Heaven defend us!' exclaimed my mother. 'Go you over the +hedge, Leary, and save that woman, if she is not yet dead, while we +run back to the hut we have just passed, and alarm the village near +it.' 'Woman!' said Leary, beating the horse violently, while his voice +trembled, 'that's no woman; the sooner we get on, ma'am, the better;' +and he continued his efforts to quicken the horse's pace. We saw +nothing. The moon was hid. It was quite dark, and we had been for some +time expecting a heavy fall of rain. But just as Leary had spoken, and +had succeeded in making the horse trot briskly forward, we distinctly +heard a loud clapping of hands, followed by a succession of screams, +that seemed to denote the last excess of despair and anguish, and to +issue from a person running forward inside the hedge, to keep pace +with our progress. Still we saw nothing; until, when we were within +about ten yards of the place where an avenue branched off to Mr. +Bourke's to the left, and the road turned to Spring House on the +right, the moon started suddenly from behind a cloud, and enabled us +to see, as plainly as I now see this paper, the figure of a tall, thin +woman, with uncovered head, and long hair that floated round her +shoulders, attired in something which seemed either a loose white +cloak or a sheet thrown hastily about her. She stood on the corner +hedge, where the road on which we were met that which leads to Spring +House, with her face towards us, her left hand pointing to this place, +and her right arm waving rapidly and violently as if to draw us on in +that direction. The horse had stopped, apparently frightened at the +sudden presence of the figure, which stood in the manner I have +described, still uttering the same piercing cries, for about half a +minute. It then leaped upon the road, disappeared from our view for +one instant, and the next was seen standing upon a high wall a little +way up the avenue on which we purposed going, still pointing towards +the road to Spring House, but in an attitude of defiance and command, +as if prepared to oppose our passage up the avenue. The figure was now +quite silent, and its garments, which had before flown loosely in the +wind, were closely wrapped around it 'Go on, Leary, to Spring House, +in God's name!' said my mother; 'whatever world it belongs to, we will +provoke it no longer.' ''Tis the Banshee, ma'am,' said Leary; 'and I +would not, for what my life is worth, go anywhere this blessed night +but to Spring House. But I'm afraid there's something bad going +forward, or _she_ would not send us there.' So saying, he drove +forward; and as we turned on the road to the right, the moon suddenly +withdrew its light, and we saw the apparition no more; but we heard +plainly a prolonged clapping of hands, gradually dying away, as if it +issued from a person rapidly retreating. We proceeded as quickly as +the badness of the roads and the fatigue of the poor animal that drew +us would allow, and arrived here about eleven o'clock last night. The +scene which awaited us you have learned from my mother's letter. To +explain it fully, I must recount to you some of the transactions which +took place here during the last week. + +"You are aware that Jane Osborne was to have been married this day to +James Ryan, and that they and their friends have been here for the last +week. On Tuesday last, the very day on the morning of which cousin Mac +Carthy despatched the letter inviting us here, the whole of the company +were walking about the grounds a little before dinner. It seems that an +unfortunate creature, who had been seduced by James Ryan, was seen +prowling in the neighbourhood in a moody, melancholy state for some days +previous. He had separated from her for several months, and, they say, +had provided for her rather handsomely; but she had been seduced by the +promise of his marrying her; and the shame of her unhappy condition, +uniting with disappointment and jealousy, had disordered her intellects. +During the whole forenoon of this Tuesday she had been walking in the +plantations near Spring House, with her cloak folded tight round her, +the hood nearly covering her face; and she had avoided conversing with +or even meeting any of the family. + +"Charles Mac Carthy, at the time I mentioned, was walking between James +Ryan and another, at a little distance from the rest, on a gravel path, +skirting a shrubbery. The whole party was thrown into the utmost +consternation by the report of a pistol, fired from a thickly planted +part of the shrubbery which Charles and his companions had just passed. +He fell instantly, and it was found that he had been wounded in the leg. +One of the party was a medical man. His assistance was immediately +given, and, on examining, he declared that the injury was very slight, +that no bone was broken, it was merely a flesh wound, and that it would +certainly be well in a few days. 'We shall know more by Sunday,' said +Charles, as he was carried to his chamber. His wound was immediately +dressed, and so slight was the inconvenience which it gave that several +of his friends spent a portion of the evening in his apartment. + +"On inquiry, it was found that the unlucky shot was fired by the poor +girl I just mentioned. It was also manifest that she had aimed, not at +Charles, but at the destroyer of her innocence and happiness, who was +walking beside him. After a fruitless search for her through the +grounds, she walked into the house of her own accord, laughing and +dancing, and singing wildly, and every moment exclaiming that she had +at last killed Mr. Ryan. When she heard that it was Charles, and not +Mr. Ryan, who was shot, she fell into a violent fit, out of which, +after working convulsively for some time, she sprung to the door, +escaped from the crowd that pursued her, and could never be taken +until last night, when she was brought here, perfectly frantic, a +little before our arrival. + +"Charles's wound was thought of such little consequence that the +preparations went forward, as usual, for the wedding entertainment on +Sunday. But on Friday night he grew restless and feverish, and on +Saturday (yesterday) morning felt so ill that it was deemed necessary to +obtain additional medical advice. Two physicians and a surgeon met in +consultation about twelve o'clock in the day, and the dreadful +intelligence was announced, that unless a change, hardly hoped for, took +place before night, death must happen within twenty-four hours after. +The wound, it seems, had been too tightly bandaged, and otherwise +injudiciously treated. The physicians were right in their anticipations. +No favourable symptom appeared, and long before we reached Spring House +every ray of hope had vanished. The scene we witnessed on our arrival +would have wrung the heart of a demon. We heard briefly at the gate that +Mr. Charles was upon his death-bed. When we reached the house, the +information was confirmed by the servant who opened the door. But just +as we entered we were horrified by the most appalling screams issuing +from the staircase. My mother thought she heard the voice of poor Mrs. +Mac Carthy, and sprung forward. We followed, and on ascending a few +steps of the stairs, we found a young woman, in a state of frantic +passion, struggling furiously with two men-servants, whose united +strength was hardly sufficient to prevent her rushing upstairs over the +body of Mrs. Mac Carthy, who was lying in strong hysterics upon the +steps. This, I afterwards discovered, was the unhappy girl I before +described, who was attempting to gain access to Charles's room, to 'get +his forgiveness,' as she said, 'before he went away to accuse her for +having killed him.' This wild idea was mingled with another, which +seemed to dispute with the former possession of her mind. In one +sentence she called on Charles to forgive her, in the next she would +denounce James Ryan as the murderer, both of Charles and her. At length +she was torn away; and the last words I heard her scream were, 'James +Ryan, 'twas you killed him, and not I--'twas you killed him, and not I.' + +"Mrs. Mac Carthy, on recovering, fell into the arms of my mother, +whose presence seemed a great relief to her. She wept--the first +tears, I was told, that she had shed since the fatal accident. She +conducted us to Charles's room, who, she said, had desired to see us +the moment of our arrival, as he found his end approaching, and wished +to devote the last hours of his existence to uninterrupted prayer and +meditation. We found him perfectly calm, resigned, and even cheerful. +He spoke of the awful event which was at hand with courage and +confidence, and treated it as a doom for which he had been preparing +ever since his former remarkable illness, and which he never once +doubted was truly foretold to him. He bade us farewell with the air of +one who was about to travel a short and easy journey; and we left him +with impressions which, notwithstanding all their anguish, will, I +trust, never entirely forsake us. + +"Poor Mrs. Mac Carthy----but I am just called away. There seems a +slight stir in the family; perhaps----" + +The above letter was never finished. The enclosure to which it more +than once alludes told the sequel briefly, and it is all that I have +further learned of the family of Mac Carthy. Before the sun had gone +down upon Charles's seven-and-twentieth birthday, his soul had gone to +render its last account to its Creator. + + + + +GHOSTS. + + +Ghosts, or as they are called in Irish, _Thevshi_ or _Tash_ +(_taidhbhse_, _tais_), live in a state intermediary between this life +and the next. They are held there by some earthly longing or affection, +or some duty unfulfilled, or anger against the living. "I will haunt +you," is a common threat; and one hears such phrases as, "She will haunt +him, if she has any good in her." If one is sorrowing greatly after a +dead friend, a neighbour will say, "Be quiet now, you are keeping him +from his rest;" or, in the Western Isles, according to Lady Wilde, they +will tell you, "You are waking the dog that watches to devour the souls +of the dead." Those who die suddenly, more commonly than others, are +believed to become haunting Ghosts. They go about moving the furniture, +and in every way trying to attract attention. + +When the soul has left the body, it is drawn away, sometimes, by the +fairies. I have a story of a peasant who once saw, sitting in a fairy +rath, all who had died for years in his village. Such souls are +considered lost. If a soul eludes the fairies, it may be snapped up by +the evil spirits. The weak souls of young children are in especial +danger. When a very young child dies, the western peasantry sprinkle +the threshold with the blood of a chicken, that the spirits may be +drawn away to the blood. A Ghost is compelled to obey the commands of +the living. "The stable-boy up at Mrs. G----'s there," said an old +countryman, "met the master going round the yards after he had been +two days dead, and told him to be away with him to the lighthouse, and +haunt that; and there he is far out to sea still, sir. Mrs. G---- was +quite wild about it, and dismissed the boy." A very desolate +lighthouse poor devil of a Ghost! Lady Wilde considers it is only the +spirits who are too bad for heaven, and too good for hell, who are +thus plagued. They are compelled to obey some one they have wronged. + +The souls of the dead sometimes take the shapes of animals. There is a +garden at Sligo where the gardener sees a previous owner in the shape +of a rabbit. They will sometimes take the forms of insects, especially +of butterflies. If you see one fluttering near a corpse, that is the +soul, and is a sign of its having entered upon immortal happiness. The +author of the _Parochial Survey of Ireland_, 1814, heard a woman say +to a child who was chasing a butterfly, "How do you know it is not the +soul of your grandfather." On November eve the dead are abroad, and +dance with the fairies. + +As in Scotland, the fetch is commonly believed in. If you see the +double, or fetch, of a friend in the morning, no ill follows; if at +night, he is about to die. + + + + +A DREAM. + +WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. + + + I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night; + I went to the window to see the sight; + All the Dead that ever I knew + Going one by one and two by two. + + On they pass'd, and on they pass'd; + Townsfellows all, from first to last; + Born in the moonlight of the lane, + Quench'd in the heavy shadow again. + + Schoolmates, marching as when we play'd + At soldiers once--but now more staid; + Those were the strangest sight to me + Who were drown'd, I knew, in the awful sea. + + Straight and handsome folk; bent and weak, too; + Some that I loved, and gasp'd to speak to; + Some but a day in their churchyard bed; + Some that I had not known were dead. + + A long, long crowd--where each seem'd lonely, + Yet of them all there was one, one only, + Raised a head or look'd my way. + She linger'd a moment,--she might not stay. + + How long since I saw that fair pale face! + Ah! Mother dear! might I only place + My head on thy breast, a moment to rest, + While thy hand on my tearful cheek were prest! + + On, on, a moving bridge they made + Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade, + Young and old, women and men; + Many long-forgot, but remember'd then. + + And first there came a bitter laughter; + A sound of tears the moment after; + And then a music so lofty and gay, + That every morning, day by day, + I strive to recall it if I may. + + + + +GRACE CONNOR. + +MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK. + + +Thady and Grace Connor lived on the borders of a large turf bog, in +the parish of Clondevaddock, where they could hear the Atlantic surges +thunder in upon the shore, and see the wild storms of winter sweep +over the Muckish mountain, and his rugged neighbours. Even in summer +the cabin by the bog was dull and dreary enough. + +Thady Connor worked in the fields, and Grace made a livelihood as a +pedlar, carrying a basket of remnants of cloth, calico, drugget, and +frieze about the country. The people rarely visited any large town, +and found it convenient to buy from Grace, who was welcomed in many a +lonely house, where a table was hastily cleared, that she might +display her wares. Being considered a very honest woman, she was +frequently entrusted with commissions to the shops in Letterkenny and +Ramelton. As she set out towards home, her basket was generally laden +with little gifts for her children. + +"Grace, dear," would one of the kind housewives say, "here's a +farrel[16] of oaten cake, wi' a taste o' butter on it; tak' it wi' you +for the weans;" or, "Here's half-a-dozen of eggs; you've a big family +to support." + +Small Connors of all ages crowded round the weary mother, to rifle her +basket of these gifts. But her thrifty, hard life came suddenly to an +end. She died after an illness of a few hours, and was waked and +buried as handsomely as Thady could afford. + +Thady was in bed the night after the funeral, and the fire still +burned brightly, when he saw his departed wife cross the room and bend +over the cradle. Terrified, he muttered rapid prayers, covered his +face with the blanket; and on looking up again the appearance was gone. + +Next night he lifted the infant out of the cradle, and laid it behind +him in the bed, hoping thus to escape his ghostly visitor; but Grace +was presently in the room, and stretching over him to wrap up her +child. Shrinking and shuddering, the poor man exclaimed, "Grace, +woman, what is it brings you back? What is it you want wi' me?" + +"I want naething fae you, Thady, but to put thon wean back in her +cradle," replied the spectre, in a tone of scorn. "You're too feared +for me, but my sister Rose willna be feared for me--tell her to meet +me to-morrow evening, in the old wallsteads." + +Rose lived with her mother, about a mile off, but she obeyed her +sister's summons without the least fear, and kept the strange tryste +in due time. + +"Rose, dear," she said, as she appeared before her sister in the old +wallsteads, "my mind's oneasy about them twa' red shawls that's in the +basket. Matty Hunter and Jane Taggart paid me for them, an' I bought +them wi' their money, Friday was eight days. Gie them the shawls the +morrow. An' old Mosey McCorkell gied me the price o' a wiley coat; +it's in under the other things in the basket. An' now farewell; I can +get to my rest." + +"Grace, Grace, bide a wee minute," cried the faithful sister, as the +dear voice grew fainter, and the dear face began to fade--"Grace, +darling! Thady? The children? One word mair!" but neither cries nor +tears could further detain the spirit hastening to its rest! + +[Footnote 16: When a large, round, flat griddle cake is divided into +triangular cuts, each of these cuts is called a farrel, farli, or +parli.] + + + + +A LEGEND OF TYRONE. + +ELLEN O'LEARY. + + + Crouched round a bare hearth in hard, frosty weather, + Three lonely helpless weans cling close together; + Tangled those gold locks, once bonnie and bright-- + There's no one to fondle the baby to-night. + + "My mammie I want; oh! my mammie I want!" + The big tears stream down with the low wailing chant. + Sweet Eily's slight arms enfold the gold head: + "Poor weeny Willie, sure mammie is dead-- + + And daddie is crazy from drinking all day-- + Come down, holy angels, and take us away!" + Eily and Eddie keep kissing and crying-- + Outside, the weird winds are sobbing and sighing. + + All in a moment the children are still, + Only a quick coo of gladness from Will. + The sheeling no longer seems empty or bare, + For, clothed in soft raiment, the mother stands there. + + They gather around her, they cling to her dress; + She rains down soft kisses for each shy caress. + Her light, loving touches smooth out tangled locks, + And, pressed to her bosom, the baby she rocks. + + He lies in his cot, there's a fire on the hearth; + To Eily and Eddy 'tis heaven on earth, + For mother's deft fingers have been everywhere; + She lulls them to rest in the low _suggaun_[17] chair. + + They gaze open-eyed, then the eyes gently close, + As petals fold into the heart of a rose, + But ope soon again in awe, love, but no fear, + And fondly they murmur, "Our mammie is here." + + She lays them down softly, she wraps them around; + They lie in sweet slumbers, she starts at a sound, + The cock loudly crows, and the spirit's away-- + The drunkard steals in at the dawning of day. + + Again and again, 'tween the dark and the dawn, + Glides in the dead mother to nurse Willie Bawn: + Or is it an angel who sits by the hearth? + An angel in heaven, a mother on earth. + +[Footnote 17: Chair made of twisted straw ropes.] + + + + +THE BLACK LAMB.[18] + +LADY WILDE. + + +It is a custom amongst the people, when throwing away water at night, +to cry out in a loud voice, "Take care of the water;" or literally, +from the Irish, "Away with yourself from the water"--for they say that +the spirits of the dead last buried are then wandering about, and it +would be dangerous if the water fell on them. + +One dark night a woman suddenly threw out a pail of boiling water +without thinking of the warning words. Instantly a cry was heard, as +of a person in pain, but no one was seen. However, the next night a +black lamb entered the house, having the back all fresh scalded, and +it lay down moaning by the hearth and died. Then they all knew that +this was the spirit that had been scalded by the woman, and they +carried the dead lamb out reverently, and buried it deep in the earth. +Yet every night at the same hour it walked again into the house, and +lay down, moaned, and died; and after this had happened many times, +the priest was sent for, and finally, by the strength of his exorcism, +the spirit of the dead was laid to rest; the black lamb appeared no +more. Neither was the body of the dead lamb found in the grave when +they searched for it, though it had been laid by their own hands deep +in the earth, and covered with clay. + +[Footnote 18: _Ancient Legends of Ireland._] + + + + +SONG OF THE GHOST. + +ALFRED PERCIVAL GRAVES. + + + When all were dreaming + But Pastheen Power, + A light came streaming + Beneath her bower: + A heavy foot + At her door delayed, + A heavy hand + On the latch was laid. + + "Now who dare venture, + At this dark hour, + Unbid to enter + My maiden bower?" + "Dear Pastheen, open + The door to me, + And your true lover + You'll surely see." + + "My own true lover, + So tall and brave, + Lives exiled over + The angry wave." + "Your true love's body + Lies on the bier, + His faithful spirit + Is with you here." + + "His look was cheerful, + His voice was gay; + Your speech is fearful, + Your face is grey; + And sad and sunken + Your eye of blue, + But Patrick, Patrick, + Alas! 'tis you!" + + Ere dawn was breaking + She heard below + The two cocks shaking + Their wings to crow. + "Oh, hush you, hush you, + Both red and grey, + Or you will hurry + My love away. + + "Oh, hush your crowing, + Both grey and red, + Or he'll be going + To join the dead; + Or, cease from calling + His ghost to the mould, + And I'll come crowning + Your combs with gold." + + When all were dreaming + But Pastheen Power, + A light went streaming + From out her bower; + And on the morrow, + When they awoke, + They knew that sorrow + Her heart had broke. + + + + +THE RADIANT BOY. + +MRS. CROW. + + +Captain Stewart, afterwards Lord Castlereagh, when he was a young man, +happened to be quartered in Ireland. He was fond of sport, and one day +the pursuit of game carried him so far that he lost his way, The +weather, too, had become very rough, and in this strait he presented +himself at the door of a gentleman's house, and sending in his card, +requested shelter for the night. The hospitality of the Irish country +gentry is proverbial; the master of the house received him warmly; +said he feared he could not make him so comfortable as he could have +wished, his house being full of visitors already, added to which, some +strangers, driven by the inclemency of the night, had sought shelter +before him, but such accommodation as he could give he was heartily +welcome to; whereupon he called his butler, and committing the guest +to his good offices, told him he must put him up somewhere, and do the +best he could for him. There was no lady, the gentleman being a widower. + +Captain Stewart found the house crammed, and a very jolly party it +was. His host invited him to stay, and promised him good shooting if +he would prolong his visit a few days: and, in fine, he thought +himself extremely fortunate to have fallen into such pleasant quarters. + +At length, after an agreeable evening, they all retired to bed, and +the butler conducted him to a large room, almost divested of +furniture, but with a blazing turf fire in the grate, and a shake-down +on the floor, composed of cloaks and other heterogeneous materials. + +Nevertheless, to the tired limbs of Captain Stewart, who had had a +hard day's shooting, it looked very inviting; but before he lay down, +he thought it advisable to take off some of the fire, which was +blazing up the chimney in what he thought an alarming manner. Having +done this, he stretched himself on his couch and soon fell asleep. + +He believed he had slept about a couple of hours when he awoke +suddenly, and was startled by such a vivid light in the room that he +thought it on fire, but on turning to look at the grate he saw the +fire was out, though it was from the chimney the light proceeded. He +sat up in bed, trying to discover what it was, when he perceived the +form of a beautiful naked boy, surrounded by a dazzling radiance. The +boy looked at him earnestly, and then the vision faded, and all was +dark. Captain Stewart, so far from supposing what he had seen to be of +a spiritual nature, had no doubt that the host, or the visitors, had +been trying to frighten him. Accordingly, he felt indignant at the +liberty, and on the following morning, when he appeared at breakfast, +he took care to evince his displeasure by the reserve of his +demeanour, and by announcing his intention to depart immediately. The +host expostulated, reminding him of his promise to stay and shoot. +Captain Stewart coldly excused himself, and, at length, the gentleman +seeing something was wrong, took him aside, and pressed for an +explanation; whereupon Captain Stewart, without entering into +particulars, said he had been made the victim of a sort of practical +joking that he thought quite unwarrantable with a stranger. + +The gentleman considered this not impossible amongst a parcel of +thoughtless young men, and appealed to them to make an apology; but +one and all, on honour, denied the impeachment. Suddenly a thought +seemed to strike him; he clapt his hand to his forehead, uttered an +exclamation, and rang the bell. + +"Hamilton," said he to the butler; "where did Captain Stewart sleep +last night?" + +"Well, sir," replied the man; "you know every place was full--the +gentlemen were lying on the floor, three or four in a room--so I gave +him the _Boy's Room_; but I lit a blazing fire to keep him from coming +out." + +"You were very wrong," said the host; "you know I have positively +forbidden you to put anyone there, and have taken the furniture out of +the room to ensure its not being occupied." Then, retiring with +Captain Stewart, he informed him, very gravely, of the nature of the +phenomena he had seen; and at length, being pressed for further +information, he confessed that there _existed_ a tradition in the +family, that whoever the "Radiant boy" appeared to will rise to the +summit of power; and when he has reached the climax, will die a +violent death, and I must say, he added, that the records that have +been kept of his appearance go to confirm this persuasion. + + + + +THE FATE OF FRANK M'KENNA. + +WILLIAM CARLETON. + + +There lived a man named M'Kenna at the hip of one of the mountainous +hills which divide the county of Tyrone from that of Monaghan. This +M'Kenna had two sons, one of whom was in the habit of tracing hares of +a Sunday whenever there happened to be a fall of snow. His father, it +seems, had frequently remonstrated with him upon what he considered to +be a violation of the Lord's day, as well as for his general neglect +of mass. The young man, however, though otherwise harmless and +inoffensive, was in this matter quite insensible to paternal reproof, +and continued to trace whenever the avocations of labour would allow +him. It so happened that upon a Christmas morning, I think in the year +1814, there was a deep fall of snow, and young M'Kenna, instead of +going to mass, got down his cock-stick--which is a staff much thicker +and heavier at one end than at the other--and prepared to set out on +his favourite amusement. His father, seeing this, reproved him +seriously, and insisted that he should attend prayers. His enthusiasm +for the sport, however, was stronger than his love of religion, and he +refused to be guided by his father's advice. The old man during the +altercation got warm; and on finding that the son obstinately scorned +his authority, he knelt down and prayed that if the boy persisted in +following his own will, he might never return from the mountains +unless as a corpse. The imprecation, which was certainly as harsh as +it was impious and senseless, might have startled many a mind from a +purpose that was, to say the least of it, at variance with religion +and the respect due to a father. It had no effect, however, upon the +son, who is said to have replied, that whether he ever returned or +not, he was determined on going; and go accordingly he did. He was +not, however, alone, for it appears that three or four of the +neighbouring young men accompanied him. Whether their sport was good +or otherwise, is not to the purpose, neither am I able to say; but the +story goes that towards the latter part of the day they started a +larger and darker hare than any they had ever seen, and that she kept +dodging on before them bit by bit, leading them to suppose that every +succeeding cast of the cock-stick would bring her down. It was +observed afterwards that she also led them into the recesses of the +mountains, and that although they tried to turn her course homewards, +they could not succeed in doing so. As evening advanced, the +companions of M'Kenna began to feel the folly of pursuing her farther, +and to perceive the danger of losing their way in the mountains should +night or a snow-storm come upon them. They therefore proposed to give +over the chase and return home; but M'Kenna would not hear of it. "If +you wish to go home, you may," said he; "as for me, I'll never leave +the hills till I have her with me." They begged and entreated of him +to desist and return, but all to no purpose: he appeared to be what +the Scotch call _fey_--that is, to act as if he were moved by some +impulse that leads to death, and from the influence of which a man +cannot withdraw himself. At length, on finding him invincibly +obstinate, they left him pursuing the hare directly into the heart of +the mountains, and returned to their respective homes. + +In the meantime one of the most terrible snow-storms ever remembered +in that part of the country came on, and the consequence was, that the +self-willed young man, who had equally trampled on the sanctities of +religion and parental authority, was given over for lost. As soon as +the tempest became still, the neighbours assembled in a body and +proceeded to look for him. The snow, however, had fallen so heavily +that not a single mark of a footstep could be seen. Nothing but one +wide waste of white undulating hills met the eye wherever it turned, +and of M'Kenna no trace whatever was visible or could be found. His +father, now remembering the unnatural character of his imprecation, +was nearly distracted; for although the body had not yet been found, +still by every one who witnessed the sudden rage of the storm and who +knew the mountains, escape or survival was felt to be impossible. +Every day for about a week large parties were out among the +hill-ranges seeking him, but to no purpose. At length there came a +thaw, and his body was found on a snow-wreath, lying in a supine +posture within a circle which he had drawn around him with his +cock-stick. His prayer-book lay opened upon his mouth, and his hat was +pulled down so as to cover it and his face. It is unnecessary to say +that the rumour of his death, and of the circumstances under which he +left home, created a most extraordinary sensation in the country--a +sensation that was the greater in proportion to the uncertainty +occasioned by his not having been found either alive or dead. Some +affirmed that he had crossed the mountains, and was seen in Monaghan; +others, that he had been seen in Clones, in Emyvale, in +Five-mile-town; but despite of all these agreeable reports, the +melancholy truth was at length made clear by the appearance of the +body as just stated. + +Now, it so happened that the house nearest the spot where he lay was +inhabited by a man named Daly, I think--but of the name I am not +certain--who was a herd or care-taker to Dr. Porter, then Bishop of +Clogher. The situation of this house was the most lonely and +desolate-looking that could be imagined. It was at least two miles +distant from any human habitation, being surrounded by one wide and +dreary waste of dark moor. By this house lay the route of those who +had found the corpse, and I believe the door of it was borrowed for +the purpose of conveying it home. Be this as it may, the family +witnessed the melancholy procession as it passed slowly through the +mountains, and when the place and circumstances are all considered, we +may admit that to ignorant and superstitious people, whose minds, even +upon ordinary occasions, were strongly affected by such matters, it +was a sight calculated to leave behind it a deep, if not a terrible +impression. Time soon proved that it did so. + +An incident is said to have occurred at the funeral in fine keeping with +the wild spirit of the whole melancholy event. When the procession had +advanced to a place called Mullaghtinny, a large dark-coloured hare, +which was instantly recognised, by those who had been out with him on +the hills, as the identical one that led him to his fate, is said to +have crossed the roads about twenty yards or so before the coffin. The +story goes, that a man struck it on the side with a stone, and that the +blow, which would have killed any ordinary hare, not only did it no +injury, but occasioned a sound to proceed from the body resembling the +hollow one emitted by an empty barrel when struck. + +In the meantime the interment took place, and the sensation began, +like every other, to die away in the natural progress of time, when, +behold, a report ran abroad like wild-fire that, to use the language +of the people, "Frank M'Kenna was _appearing_!" + +One night, about a fortnight after his funeral, the daughter of Daly, +the herd, a girl about fourteen, while lying in bed saw what appeared +to be the likeness of M'Kenna, who had been lost. She screamed out, +and covering her head with the bed-clothes, told her father and mother +that Frank M'Kenna was in the house. This alarming intelligence +naturally produced great terror; still, Daly, who, notwithstanding his +belief in such matters, possessed a good deal of moral courage, was +cool enough to rise and examine the house, which consisted of only one +apartment. This gave the daughter some courage, who, on finding that +her father could not see him, ventured to look out, and she _then_ +could see nothing of him herself. She very soon fell asleep, and her +father attributed what she saw to fear, or some accidental combination +of shadows proceeding from the furniture, for it was a clear moonlight +night. The light of the following day dispelled a great deal of their +apprehensions, and comparatively little was thought of it until +evening again advanced, when the fears of the daughter began to +return. They appeared to be prophetic, for she said when night came +that she knew he would appear again; and accordingly at the same hour +he did so. This was repeated for several successive nights, until the +girl, from the very hardihood of terror, began to become so far +familiarised to the spectre as to venture to address it. + +"In the name of God!" she asked, "what is troubling you, or why do you +appear to me instead of to some of your own family or relations?" + +The ghost's answer alone might settle the question involved in the +authenticity of its appearance, being, as it was, an account of one of +the most ludicrous missions that ever a spirit was despatched upon. + +"I'm not allowed," said he, "to spake to any of my friends, for I +parted wid them in anger; but I'm come to tell you that they are +quarrelin' about my breeches--a new pair that I got made for Christmas +day; an' as I was comin' up to thrace in the mountains, I thought the +ould one 'ud do betther, an' of coorse I didn't put the new pair an +me. My raison for appearin'," he added, "is, that you may tell my +friends that none of them is to wear them--they must be given in +charity." + +This serious and solemn intimation from the ghost was duly +communicated to the family, and it was found that the circumstances +were exactly as it had represented them. This, of course, was +considered as sufficient proof of the truth of its mission. Their +conversations now became not only frequent, but quite friendly and +familiar. The girl became a favourite with the spectre, and the +spectre, on the other hand, soon lost all his terrors in her eyes. He +told her that whilst his friends were bearing home his body, the +handspikes or poles on which they carried him had cut his back, and +_occasioned him great pain_! The cutting of the back also was known to +be true, and strengthened, of course, the truth and authenticity of +their dialogues. The whole neighbourhood was now in a commotion with +this story of the apparition, and persons incited by curiosity began +to visit the girl in order to satisfy themselves of the truth of what +they had heard. Everything, however, was corroborated, and the child +herself, without any symptoms of anxiety or terror, artlessly related +her conversations with the spirit. Hitherto their interviews had been +all nocturnal, but now that the ghost found his footing made good, he +put a hardy face on, and ventured to appear by daylight. The girl also +fell into states of syncope, and while the fits lasted, long +conversations with him upon the subject of God, the blessed Virgin, +and Heaven, took place between them. He was certainly an excellent +moralist, and gave the best advice. Swearing, drunkenness, theft, and +every evil propensity of our nature, were declaimed against with a +degree of spectral eloquence quite surprising. Common fame had now a +topic dear to her heart, and never was a ghost made more of by his +best friends than she made of him. The whole country was in a tumult, +and I well remember the crowds which flocked to the lonely little +cabin in the mountains, now the scene of matters so interesting and +important. Not a single day passed in which I should think from ten to +twenty, thirty, or fifty persons, were not present at these singular +interviews. Nothing else was talked of, thought of, and, as I can well +testify, dreamt of. I would myself have gone to Daly's were it not for +a confounded misgiving I had, that perhaps the ghost might take such a +fancy of appearing to _me_, as he had taken to cultivate an intimacy +with the girl; and it so happens, that when I see the face of an +individual nailed down in the coffin--chilling and gloomy +operation!--I experience no particular wish to look upon it again. + +The spot where the body of M'Kenna was found is now marked by a little +heap of stones, which has been collected since the melancholy event of +his death. Every person who passes it throws a stone upon the heap; +but why this old custom is practised, or what it means, I do not know, +unless it be simply to mark the spot as a visible means of preserving +the memory of the occurrence. + +Daly's house, the scene of the supposed apparition, is now a shapeless +ruin, which could scarcely be seen were it not for the green spot that +once was a garden, and which now shines at a distance like an emerald, +but with no agreeable or pleasing associations. It is a spot which no +solitary schoolboy will ever visit, nor indeed would the unflinching +believer in the popular nonsense of ghosts wish to pass it without a +companion. It is, under any circumstances, a gloomy and barren place; +but when looked upon in connection with what we have just recited, it +is lonely, desolate, and awful. + + + + +WITCHES, FAIRY DOCTORS. + + +Witches and fairy doctors receive their power from opposite dynasties; +the witch from evil spirits and her own malignant will; the fairy +doctor from the fairies, and a something--a temperament--that is born +with him or her. The first is always feared and hated. The second is +gone to for advice, and is never worse than mischievous. The most +celebrated fairy doctors are sometimes people the fairies loved and +carried away, and kept with them for seven years; not that those the +fairies' love are always carried off--they may merely grow silent and +strange, and take to lonely wanderings in the "gentle" places. Such +will, in after-times, be great poets or musicians, or fairy doctors; +they must not be confused with those who have a _Lianhaun shee_ +[_leannán-sidhe_], for the _Lianhaun shee_ lives upon the vitals of +its chosen, and they waste and die. She is of the dreadful solitary +fairies. To her have belonged the greatest of the Irish poets, from +Oisin down to the last century. + +Those we speak of have for their friends the trooping fairies--the gay +and sociable populace of raths and caves. Great is their knowledge of +herbs and spells. These doctors, when the butter will not come on the +milk, or the milk will not come from the cow, will be sent for to find +out if the cause be in the course of common nature or if there has +been witchcraft. Perhaps some old hag in the shape of a hare has been +milking the cattle. Perhaps some user of "the dead hand" has drawn +away the butter to her own churn. Whatever it be, there is the +counter-charm. They will give advice, too, in cases of suspected +changelings, and prescribe for the "fairy blast" (when the fairy +strikes any one a tumour rises, or they become paralysed. This is +called a "fairy blast" or a "fairy stroke"). The fairies are, of +course, visible to them, and many a new-built house have they bid the +owner pull down because it lay on the fairies' road. Lady Wilde thus +describes one who lived in Innis Sark:--"He never touched beer, +spirits, or meat in all his life, but has lived entirely on bread, +fruit, and vegetables. A man who knew him thus describes him--'Winter +and summer his dress is the same--merely a flannel shirt and coat. He +will pay his share at a feast, but neither eats nor drinks of the food +and drink set before him. He speaks no English, and never could be +made to learn the English tongue, though he says it might be used with +great effect to curse one's enemy. He holds a burial-ground sacred, +and would not carry away so much as a leaf of ivy from a grave. And he +maintains that the people are right to keep to their ancient usages, +such as never to dig a grave on a Monday, and to carry the coffin +three times round the grave, following the course of the sun, for then +the dead rest in peace. Like the people, also, he holds suicides as +accursed; for they believe that all its dead turn over on their faces +if a suicide is laid amongst them. + +"'Though well off, he never, even in his youth, thought of taking a +wife; nor was he ever known to love a woman. He stands quite apart from +life, and by this means holds his power over the mysteries. No money +will tempt him to impart his knowledge to another, for if he did he +would be struck dead--so he believes. He would not touch a hazel stick, +but carries an ash wand, which he holds in his hand when he prays, laid +across his knees; and the whole of his life is devoted to works of grace +and charity, and though now an old man, he has never had a day's +sickness. No one has ever seen him in a rage, nor heard an angry word +from his lips but once, and then being under great irritation, he +recited the Lord's Prayer backwards as an imprecation on his enemy. +Before his death he will reveal the mystery of his power, but not till +the hand of death is on him for certain.'" When he does reveal it, we +may be sure it will be to one person only--his successor. There are +several such doctors in County Sligo, really well up in herbal medicine +by all accounts, and my friends find them in their own counties. All +these things go on merrily. The spirit of the age laughs in vain, and is +itself only a ripple to pass, or already passing, away. + +The spells of the witch are altogether different; they smell of the +grave. One of the most powerful is the charm of the dead hand. With a +hand cut from a corpse they, muttering words of power, will stir a +well and skim from its surface a neighbour's butter. + +A candle held between the fingers of the dead hand can never be blown +out. This is useful to robbers, but they appeal for the suffrage of +the lovers likewise, for they can make love-potions by drying and +grinding into powder the liver of a black cat. Mixed with tea, and +poured from a black teapot, it is infallible. There are many stories +of its success in quite recent years, but, unhappily, the spell must +be continually renewed, or all the love may turn into hate. But the +central notion of witchcraft everywhere is the power to change into +some fictitious form, usually in Ireland a hare or a cat. Long ago a +wolf was the favourite. Before Giraldus Cambrensis came to Ireland, a +monk wandering in a forest at night came upon two wolves, one of whom +was dying. The other entreated him to give the dying wolf the last +sacrament. He said the mass, and paused when he came to the viaticum. +The other, on seeing this, tore the skin from the breast of the dying +wolf, laying bare the form of an old woman. Thereon the monk gave the +sacrament. Years afterwards he confessed the matter, and when Giraldus +visited the country, was being tried by the synod of the bishops. To +give the sacrament to an animal was a great sin. Was it a human being +or an animal? On the advice of Giraldus they sent the monk, with +papers describing the matter, to the Pope for his decision. The result +is not stated. + +Giraldus himself was of opinion that the wolf-form was an illusion, +for, as he argued, only God can change the form. His opinion coincides +with tradition, Irish and otherwise. + +It is the notion of many who have written about these things that magic +is mainly the making of such illusions. Patrick Kennedy tells a story of +a girl who, having in her hand a sod of grass containing, unknown to +herself, a four-leaved shamrock, watched a conjurer at a fair. Now, the +four-leaved shamrock guards its owner from all _pishogues_ (spells), and +when the others were staring at a cock carrying along the roof of a shed +a huge beam in its bill, she asked them what they found to wonder at in +a cock with a straw. The conjurer begged from her the sod of grass, to +give to his horse, he said. Immediately she cried out in terror that the +beam would fall and kill somebody. + +This, then, is to be remembered--the form of an enchanted thing is a +fiction and a caprice. + + + + +BEWITCHED BUTTER (DONEGAL). + +MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK. + + +Not far from Rathmullen lived, last spring, a family called Hanlon; +and in a farm-house, some fields distant, people named Dogherty. Both +families had good cows, but the Hanlons were fortunate in possessing a +Kerry cow that gave more milk and yellower butter than the others. + +Grace Dogherty, a young girl, who was more admired than loved in the +neighbourhood, took much interest in the Kerry cow, and appeared one +night at Mrs. Hanlon's door with the modest request-- + +"Will you let me milk your Moiley cow?" + +"An' why wad you wish to milk wee Moiley, Grace, dear?" inquired Mrs. +Hanlon. + +"Oh, just becase you're sae throng at the present time." + +"Thank you kindly, Grace, but I'm no too throng to do my ain work. +I'll no trouble you to milk." + +The girl turned away with a discontented air; but the next evening, +and the next, found her at the cow-house door with the same request. + +At length Mrs. Hanlon, not knowing well how to persist in her refusal, +yielded, and permitted Grace to milk the Kerry cow. + +She soon had reason to regret her want of firmness. Moiley gave no +more milk to her owner. + +When this melancholy state of things lasted for three days, the +Hanlons applied to a certain Mark McCarrion, who lived near Binion. + +"That cow has been milked by someone with an evil eye," said he. "Will +she give you a wee drop, do you think? The full of a pint measure wad +do." + +"Oh, ay, Mark, dear; I'll get that much milk frae her, any way." + +"Weel, Mrs. Hanlon, lock the door, an' get nine new pins that was +never used in clothes, an' put them into a saucepan wi' the pint o' +milk. Set them on the fire, an' let them come to the boil." + +The nine pins soon began to simmer in Moiley's[19] milk. + +Rapid steps were heard approaching the door, agitated knocks followed, +and Grace Dogherty's high-toned voice was raised in eager entreaty. + +"Let me in, Mrs. Hanlon!" she cried. "Tak off that cruel pot! Tak out +them pins, for they're pricking holes in my heart, an' I'll never +offer to touch milk of yours again." + + [There is hardly a village in Ireland where the milk is not thus + believed to have been stolen times upon times. There are many + counter-charms. Sometimes the coulter of a plough will be heated + red-hot, and the witch will rush in, crying out that she is + burning. A new horse-shoe or donkey-shoe, heated and put under + the churn, with three straws, if possible, stolen at midnight + from over the witches' door, is quite infallible.--ED.] + +[Footnote 19: In Connaught called a "mweeal" cow--_i.e._, a cow +without horns. Irish _maol_, literally, blunt. When the new hammerless +breech-loaders came into use two or three years ago, Mr. Douglas Hyde +heard a Connaught gentleman speak of them as the "mweeal" guns, +because they had no cocks.] + + + + +A QUEEN'S COUNTY WITCH[20] + + +It was about eighty years ago, in the month of May, that a Roman +Catholic clergyman, near Rathdowney, in the Queen's County, was +awakened at midnight to attend a dying man in a distant part of the +parish. The priest obeyed without a murmur, and having performed his +duty to the expiring sinner, saw him depart this world before he left +the cabin. As it was yet dark, the man who had called on the priest +offered to accompany him home, but he refused, and set forward on his +journey alone. The grey dawn began to appear over the hills. The good +priest was highly enraptured with the beauty of the scene, and rode +on, now gazing intently at every surrounding object, and again cutting +with his whip at the bats and big beautiful night-flies which flitted +ever and anon from hedge to hedge across his lonely way. Thus engaged, +he journeyed on slowly, until the nearer approach of sunrise began to +render objects completely discernible, when he dismounted from his +horse, and slipping his arm out of the rein, and drawing forth his +"Breviary" from his pocket, he commenced reading his "morning office" +as he walked leisurely along. + +He had not proceeded very far, when he observed his horse, a very +spirited animal, endeavouring to stop on the road, and gazing intently +into a field on one side of the way where there were three or four +cows grazing. However, he did not pay any particular attention to this +circumstance, but went on a little farther, when the horse suddenly +plunged with great violence, and endeavoured to break away by force. +The priest with great difficulty succeeded in restraining him, and, +looking at him more closely, observed him shaking from head to foot, +and sweating profusely. He now stood calmly, and refused to move from +where he was, nor could threats or entreaty induce him to proceed. The +father was greatly astonished, but recollecting to have often heard of +horses labouring under affright being induced to go by blindfolding +them, he took out his handkerchief and tied it across his eyes. He +then mounted, and, striking him gently, he went forward without +reluctance, but still sweating and trembling violently. They had not +gone far, when they arrived opposite a narrow path or bridle-way, +flanked at either side by a tall, thick hedge, which led from the high +road to the field where the cows were grazing. The priest happened by +chance to look into the lane, and saw a spectacle which made the blood +curdle in his veins. It was the legs of a man from the hips downwards, +without head or body, trotting up the avenue at a smart pace. The good +father was very much alarmed, but, being a man of strong nerve, he +resolved, come what might, to stand, and be further acquainted with +this singular spectre. He accordingly stood, and so did the headless +apparition, as if afraid to approach him. The priest, observing this, +pulled back a little from the entrance of the avenue, and the phantom +again resumed its progress. It soon arrived on the road, and the +priest now had sufficient opportunity to view it minutely. It wore +yellow buckskin breeches, tightly fastened at the knees with green +ribbon; it had neither shoes nor stockings on, and its legs were +covered with long, red hairs, and all full of wet, blood, and clay, +apparently contracted in its progress through the thorny hedges. The +priest, although very much alarmed, felt eager to examine the phantom, +and for this purpose summoned all his philosophy to enable him to +speak to it. The ghost was now a little ahead, pursuing its march at +its usual brisk trot, and the priest urged on his horse speedily until +he came up with it, and thus addressed it-- + +"Hilloa, friend! who art thou, or whither art thou going so early?" + +The hideous spectre made no reply, but uttered a fierce and superhuman +growl, or "Umph." + +"A fine morning for ghosts to wander abroad," again said the priest. + +Another "Umph" was the reply. + +"Why don't you speak?" + +"Umph." + +"You don't seem disposed to be very loquacious this morning." + +"Umph," again. + +The good man began to feel irritated at the obstinate silence of his +unearthly visitor, and said, with some warmth-- + +"In the name of all that's sacred, I command you to answer me, Who art +thou, or where art thou travelling?" + +Another "Umph," more loud and more angry than before, was the only +reply. + +"Perhaps," said the father, "a taste of whipcord might render you a +little more communicative;" and so saying, he struck the apparition a +heavy blow with his whip on the breech. + +The phantom uttered a wild and unearthly yell, and fell forward on the +road, and what was the priest's astonishment when he perceived the +whole place running over with milk. He was struck dumb with amazement; +the prostrate phantom still continued to eject vast quantities of milk +from every part; the priest's head swam, his eyes got dizzy; a stupor +came all over him for some minutes, and on his recovering, the +frightful spectre had vanished, and in its stead he found stretched on +the road, and half drowned in milk, the form of Sarah Kennedy, an old +woman of the neighbourhood, who had been long notorious in that +district for her witchcraft and superstitious practices, and it was +now discovered that she had, by infernal aid, assumed that monstrous +shape, and was employed that morning in sucking the cows of the +village. Had a volcano burst forth at his feet, he could not be more +astonished; he gazed awhile in silent amazement--the old woman +groaning, and writhing convulsively. + +"Sarah," said he, at length, "I have long admonished you to repent of +your evil ways, but you were deaf to my entreaties; and now, wretched +woman, you are surprised in the midst of your crimes." + +"Oh, father, father," shouted the unfortunate woman, "can you do nothing +to save me? I am lost; hell is open for me, and legions of devils +surround me this moment, waiting to carry my soul to perdition." + +The priest had not power to reply; the old wretch's pains increased; her +body swelled to an immense size; her eyes flashed as if on fire, her +face was black as night, her entire form writhed in a thousand different +contortions; her outcries were appalling, her face sunk, her eyes +closed, and in a few minutes she expired in the most exquisite tortures. + +The priest departed homewards, and called at the next cabin to give +notice of the strange circumstances. The remains of Sarah Kennedy were +removed to her cabin, situate at the edge of a small wood at a little +distance. She had long been a resident in that neighbourhood, but +still she was a stranger, and came there no one knew from whence. She +had no relation in that country but one daughter, now advanced in +years, who resided with her. She kept one cow, but sold more butter, +it was said, than any farmer in the parish, and it was generally +suspected that she acquired it by devilish agency, as she never made a +secret of being intimately acquainted with sorcery and fairyism. She +professed the Roman Catholic religion, but never complied with the +practices enjoined by that church, and her remains were denied +Christian sepulture, and were buried in a sand-pit near her own cabin. + +On the evening of her burial, the villagers assembled and burned her +cabin to the earth. Her daughter made her escape, and never after +returned. + +[Footnote 20: _Dublin University Review, 1839._] + + + + +THE WITCH HARE. + +MR. AND MRS. S. C. HALL. + + +I was out thracking hares meeself, and I seen a fine puss of a thing +hopping, hopping in the moonlight, and whacking her ears about, now +up, now down, and winking her great eyes, and--"Here goes," says I, +and the thing was so close to me that she turned round and looked at +me, and then bounced back, as well as to say, do your worst! So I had +the least grain in life of _blessed powder_ left, and I put it in the +gun--and bang at her! My jewel, the scritch she gave would frighten a +rigment, and a mist, like, came betwixt me and her, and I seen her no +more; but when the mist wint off I saw blood on the spot where she had +been, and I followed its track, and at last it led me--whist, +whisper--right up to Katey MacShane's door; and when I was at the +thrashold, I heerd a murnin' within, a great murnin', and a groanin', +and I opened the door, and there she was herself, sittin' quite +content in the shape of a woman, and the black cat that was sittin' by +her rose up its back and spit at me; but I went on never heedin', and +asked the ould ---- how she was and what ailed her. + +"Nothing," sis she. + +"What's that on the floor?" sis I. + +"Oh," she says, "I was cuttin' a billet of wood," she says, "wid the +reaping hook," she says, "an' I've wounded meself in the leg," she +says, "and that's drops of my precious blood," she says. + + + + +BEWITCHED BUTTER (QUEEN'S COUNTY).[21] + + +About the commencement of the last century there lived in the vicinity +of the once famous village of Aghavoe[22] a wealthy farmer, named +Bryan Costigan. This man kept an extensive dairy and a great many +milch cows, and every year made considerable sums by the sale of milk +and butter. The luxuriance of the pasture lands in this neighbourhood +has always been proverbial; and, consequently, Bryan's cows were the +finest and most productive in the country, and his milk and butter the +richest and sweetest, and brought the highest price at every market at +which he offered these articles for sale. + +Things continued to go on thus prosperously with Bryan Costigan, when, +one season, all at once, he found his cattle declining in appearance, +and his dairy almost entirely profitless. Bryan, at first, attributed +this change to the weather, or some such cause, but soon found or +fancied reasons to assign it to a far different source. The cows, +without any visible disorder, daily declined, and were scarcely able +to crawl about on their pasture: many of them, instead of milk, gave +nothing but blood; and the scanty quantity of milk which some of them +continued to supply was so bitter that even the pigs would not drink +it; whilst the butter which it produced was of such a bad quality, and +stunk so horribly, that the very dogs would not eat it. Bryan applied +for remedies to all the quacks and "fairy-women" in the country--but +in vain. Many of the impostors declared that the mysterious malady in +his cattle went beyond _their_ skill; whilst others, although they +found no difficulty in tracing it to superhuman agency, declared that +they had no control in the matter, as the charm under the influence of +which his property was made away with, was too powerful to be +dissolved by anything less than the special interposition of Divine +Providence. The poor farmer became almost distracted; he saw ruin +staring him in the face; yet what was he to do? Sell his cattle and +purchase others! No; that was out of the question, as they looked so +miserable and emaciated, that no one would even take them as a +present, whilst it was also impossible to sell to a butcher, as the +flesh of one which he killed for his own family was as black as a +coal, and stunk like any putrid carrion. + +The unfortunate man was thus completely bewildered. He knew not what +to do; he became moody and stupid; his sleep forsook him by night, +and all day he wandered about the fields, amongst his "fairy-stricken" +cattle like a maniac. + +Affairs continued in this plight, when one very sultry evening in the +latter days of July, Bryan Costigan's wife was sitting at her own +door, spinning at her wheel, in a very gloomy and agitated state of +mind. Happening to look down the narrow green lane which led from the +high road to her cabin, she espied a little old woman barefoot, and +enveloped in an old scarlet cloak, approaching slowly, with the aid of +a crutch which she carried in one hand, and a cane or walking-stick in +the other. The farmer's wife felt glad at seeing the odd-looking +stranger; she smiled, and yet she knew not why, as she neared the +house. A vague and indefinable feeling of pleasure crowded on her +imagination; and, as the old woman gained the threshold, she bade her +"welcome" with a warmth which plainly told that her lips gave +utterance but to the genuine feelings of her heart. + +"God bless this good house and all belonging to it," said the stranger +as she entered. + +"God save you kindly, and you are welcome, whoever you are," replied +Mrs. Costigan. + +"Hem, I thought so," said the old woman with a significant grin. "I +thought so, or I wouldn't trouble you." + +The farmer's wife ran, and placed a chair near the fire for the +stranger; but she refused, and sat on the ground near where Mrs. C. +had been spinning. Mrs. Costigan had now time to survey the old hag's +person minutely. She appeared of great age; her countenance was +extremely ugly and repulsive; her skin was rough and deeply embrowned +as if from long exposure to the effects of some tropical climate; her +forehead was low, narrow, and indented with a thousand wrinkles; her +long grey hair fell in matted elf-locks from beneath a white linen +skull-cap; her eyes were bleared, blood-shotten, and obliquely set in +their sockets, and her voice was croaking, tremulous, and, at times, +partially inarticulate. As she squatted on the floor, she looked round +the house with an inquisitive gaze; she peered pryingly from corner +to corner, with an earnestness of look, as if she had the faculty, +like the Argonaut of old, to see through the very depths of the earth, +whilst Mrs. C. kept watching her motions with mingled feelings of +curiosity, awe, and pleasure. + +"Mrs.," said the old woman, at length breaking silence, "I am dry with +the heat of the day; can you give me a drink?" + +"Alas!" replied the farmer's wife, "I have no drink to offer you +except water, else you would have no occasion to ask me for it." + +"Are you not the owner of the cattle I see yonder?" said the old hag, +with a tone of voice and manner of gesticulation which plainly +indicated her foreknowledge of the fact. + +Mrs. Costigan replied in the affirmative, and briefly related to her +every circumstance connected with the affair, whilst the old woman +still remained silent, but shook her grey head repeatedly; and still +continued gazing round the house with an air of importance and +self-sufficiency. + +When Mrs. C. had ended, the old hag remained a while as if in a deep +reverie: at length she said-- + +"Have you any of the milk in the house?" + +"I have," replied the other. + +"Show me some of it." + +She filled a jug from a vessel and handed it to the old sybil, who +smelled it, then tasted it, and spat out what she had taken on the +floor. + +"Where is your husband?" she asked. + +"Out in the fields," was the reply. + +"I must see him." + +A messenger was despatched for Bryan, who shortly after made his +appearance. + +"Neighbour," said the stranger, "your wife informs me that your cattle +are going against you this season." + +"She informs you right," said Bryan. + +"And why have you not sought a cure?" + +"A cure!" re-echoed the man; "why, woman, I have sought cures until I +was heart-broken, and all in vain; they get worse every day." + +"What will you give me if I cure them for you?" + +"Anything in our power," replied Bryan and his wife, both speaking +joyfully, and with a breath. + +"All I will ask from you is a silver sixpence, and that you will do +everything which I will bid you," said she. + +The farmer and his wife seemed astonished at the moderation of her +demand. They offered her a large sum of money. + +"No," said she, "I don't want your money; I am no cheat, and I would +not even take sixpence, but that I can do nothing till I handle some +of your silver." + +The sixpence was immediately given her, and the most implicit +obedience promised to her injunctions by both Bryan and his wife, who +already began to regard the old beldame as their tutelary angel. + +The hag pulled off a black silk ribbon or fillet which encircled her +head inside her cap, and gave it to Bryan, saying-- + +"Go, now, and the first cow you touch with this ribbon, turn her into +the yard, but be sure don't touch the second, nor speak a word until +you return; be also careful not to let the ribbon touch the ground, +for, if you do, all is over." + +Bryan took the talismanic ribbon, and soon returned, driving a red cow +before him. + +The old hag went out, and, approaching the cow, commenced pulling hairs +out of her tail, at the same time singing some verses in the Irish +language in a low, wild, and unconnected strain. The cow appeared +restive and uneasy, but the old witch still continued her mysterious +chant until she had the ninth hair extracted. She then ordered the cow +to be drove back to her pasture, and again entered the house. + +"Go, now," said she to the woman, "and bring me some milk from every +cow in your possession." + +She went, and soon returned with a large pail filled with a +frightful-looking mixture of milk, blood, and corrupt matter. The old +woman got it into the churn, and made preparations for churning. + +"Now," she said, "you both must churn, make fast the door and +windows, and let there be no light but from the fire; do not open your +lips until I desire you, and by observing my directions, I make no +doubt but, ere the sun goes down, we will find out the infernal +villain who is robbing you." + +Bryan secured the doors and windows, and commenced churning. The old +sorceress sat down by a blazing fire which had been specially lighted +for the occasion, and commenced singing the same wild song which she +had sung at the pulling of the cow-hairs, and after a little time she +cast one of the nine hairs into the fire, still singing her mysterious +strain, and watching, with intense interest, the witching process. + +A loud cry, as if from a female in distress, was now heard approaching +the house; the old witch discontinued her incantations, and listened +attentively. The crying voice approached the door. + +"Open the door quickly," shouted the charmer. + +Bryan unbarred the door, and all three rushed out in the yard, when +they heard the same cry down the _boreheen_, but could see nothing. + +"It is all over," shouted the old witch; "something has gone amiss, +and our charm for the present is ineffectual." + +They now turned back quite crestfallen, when, as they were entering +the door, the sybil cast her eyes downwards, and perceiving a piece of +horseshoe nailed on the threshold,[23] she vociferated-- + +"Here I have it; no wonder our charm was abortive. The person that was +crying abroad is the villain who has your cattle bewitched; I brought +her to the house, but she was not able to come to the door on account +of that horseshoe. Remove it instantly, and we will try our luck again." + +Bryan removed the horseshoe from the doorway, and by the hag's +directions placed it on the floor under the churn, having previously +reddened it in the fire. + +They again resumed their manual operations. Bryan and his wife began +to churn, and the witch again to sing her strange verses, and casting +her cow-hairs into the fire until she had them all nearly exhausted. +Her countenance now began to exhibit evident traces of vexation and +disappointment. She got quite pale, her teeth gnashed, her hand +trembled, and as she cast the ninth and last hair into the fire, her +person exhibited more the appearance of a female demon than of a human +being. + +Once more the cry was heard, and an aged red-haired woman[24] was seen +approaching the house quickly. + +"Ho, ho!" roared the sorceress, "I knew it would be so; my charm has +succeeded; my expectations are realised, and here she comes, the +villain who has destroyed you." + +"What are we to do now?" asked Bryan. + +"Say nothing to her," said the hag; "give her whatever she demands, +and leave the rest to me." + +The woman advanced screeching vehemently, and Bryan went out to meet +her. She was a neighbour, and she said that one of her best cows was +drowning in a pool of water--that there was no one at home but +herself, and she implored Bryan to go rescue the cow from destruction. + +Bryan accompanied her without hesitation; and having rescued the cow +from her perilous situation, was back again in a quarter of an hour. + +It was now sunset, and Mrs. Costigan set about preparing supper. + +During supper they reverted to the singular transactions of the day. +The old witch uttered many a fiendish laugh at the success of her +incantations, and inquired who was the woman whom they had so +curiously discovered. + +Bryan satisfied her in every particular. She was the wife of a +neighbouring farmer; her name was Rachel Higgins; and she had been +long suspected to be on familiar terms with the spirit of darkness. +She had five or six cows; but it was observed by her sapient +neighbours that she sold more butter every year than other farmers' +wives who had twenty. Bryan had, from the commencement of the decline +in his cattle, suspected her for being the aggressor, but as he had no +proof, he held his peace. + +"Well," said the old beldame, with a grim smile, "it is not enough +that we have merely discovered the robber; all is in vain, if we do +not take steps to punish her for the past, as well as to prevent her +inroads for the future." + +"And how will that be done?" said Bryan. + +"I will tell you; as soon as the hour of twelve o'clock arrives +to-night, do you go to the pasture, and take a couple of swift-running +dogs with you; conceal yourself in some place convenient to the +cattle; watch them carefully; and if you see anything, whether man or +beast, approach the cows, set on the dogs, and if possible make them +draw the blood of the intruder; then ALL will be accomplished. If +nothing approaches before sunrise, you may return, and we will try +something else." + +Convenient there lived the cow-herd of a neighbouring squire. He was a +hardy, courageous young man, and always kept a pair of very ferocious +bull-dogs. To him Bryan applied for assistance, and he cheerfully +agreed to accompany him, and, moreover, proposed to fetch a couple of +his master's best greyhounds, as his own dogs, although extremely +fierce and bloodthirsty, could not be relied on for swiftness. He +promised Bryan to be with him before twelve o'clock, and they parted. + +Bryan did not seek sleep that night; he sat up anxiously awaiting the +midnight hour. It arrived at last, and his friend, the herdsman, true +to his promise, came at the time appointed. After some further +admonitions from the _Collough_, they departed. Having arrived at the +field, they consulted as to the best position they could chose for +concealment. At last they pitched on a small brake of fern, situated +at the extremity of the field, adjacent to the boundary ditch, which +was thickly studded with large, old white-thorn bushes. Here they +crouched themselves, and made the dogs, four in number, lie down +beside them, eagerly expecting the appearance of their as yet unknown +and mysterious visitor. + +Here Bryan and his comrade continued a considerable time in nervous +anxiety, still nothing approached, and it became manifest that morning +was at hand; they were beginning to grow impatient, and were talking +of returning home, when on a sudden they heard a rushing sound behind +them, as if proceeding from something endeavouring to force a passage +through the thick hedge in their rear. They looked in that direction, +and judge of their astonishment, when they perceived a large hare in +the act of springing from the ditch, and leaping on the ground quite +near them. They were now convinced that this was the object which they +had so impatiently expected, and they were resolved to watch her +motions narrowly. + +After arriving to the ground, she remained motionless for a few +moments, looking around her sharply. She then began to skip and jump +in a playful manner; now advancing at a smart pace towards the cows, +and again retreating precipitately, but still drawing nearer and +nearer at each sally. At length she advanced up to the next cow, and +sucked her for a moment; then on to the next, and so respectively to +every cow on the field--the cows all the time lowing loudly, and +appearing extremely frightened and agitated. Bryan, from the moment +the hare commenced sucking the first, was with difficulty restrained +from attacking her; but his more sagacious companion suggested to him, +that it was better to wait until she would have done, as she would +then be much heavier, and more unable to effect her escape than at +present. And so the issue proved; for being now done sucking them all, +her belly appeared enormously distended, and she made her exit slowly +and apparently with difficulty. She advanced towards the hedge where +she had entered, and as she arrived just at the clump of ferns where +her foes were couched, they started up with a fierce yell, and +hallooed the dogs upon her path. + +The hare started off at a brisk pace, squirting up the milk she had +sucked from her mouth and nostrils, and the dogs making after her +rapidly. Rachel Higgins's cabin appeared, through the grey of the +morning twilight, at a little distance; and it was evident that puss +seemed bent on gaining it, although she made a considerable circuit +through the fields in the rear. Bryan and his comrade, however, had +their thoughts, and made towards the cabin by the shortest route, and +had just arrived as the hare came up, panting and almost exhausted, +and the dogs at her very scut. She ran round the house, evidently +confused and disappointed at the presence of the men, but at length +made for the door. In the bottom of the door was a small, semicircular +aperture, resembling those cut in fowl-house doors for the ingress and +egress of poultry. To gain this hole, puss now made a last and +desperate effort, and had succeeded in forcing her head and shoulders +through it, when the foremost of the dogs made a spring and seized her +violently by the haunch. She uttered a loud and piercing scream, and +struggled desperately to free herself from his gripe, and at last +succeeded, but not until she left a piece of her rump in his teeth. +The men now burst open the door; a bright turf fire blazed on the +hearth, and the whole floor was streaming with blood. No hare, +however, could be found, and the men were more than ever convinced +that it was old Rachel, who had, by the assistance of some demon, +assumed the form of the hare, and they now determined to have her if +she were over the earth. They entered the bedroom, and heard some +smothered groaning, as if proceeding from some one in extreme agony. +They went to the corner of the room from whence the moans proceeded, +and there, beneath a bundle of freshly-cut rushes, found the form of +Rachel Higgins, writhing in the most excruciating agony, and almost +smothered in a pool of blood. The men were astounded; they addressed +the wretched old woman, but she either could not, or would not answer +them. Her wound still bled copiously; her tortures appeared to +increase, and it was evident that she was dying. The aroused family +thronged around her with cries and lamentations; she did not seem to +heed them, she got worse and worse, and her piercing yells fell +awfully on the ears of the bystanders. At length she expired, and her +corpse exhibited a most appalling spectacle, even before the spirit +had well departed. + +Bryan and his friend returned home. The old hag had been previously +aware of the fate of Rachel Higgins, but it was not known by what +means she acquired her supernatural knowledge. She was delighted at +the issue of her mysterious operations. Bryan pressed her much to +accept of some remuneration for her services, but she utterly rejected +such proposals. She remained a few days at his house, and at length +took her leave and departed, no one knew whither. + +Old Rachel's remains were interred that night in the neighbouring +churchyard. Her fate soon became generally known, and her family, +ashamed to remain in their native village, disposed of their property, +and quitted the country for ever. The story, however, is still fresh +in the memory of the surrounding villagers; and often, it is said, +amid the grey haze of a summer twilight, may the ghost of Rachel +Higgins, in the form of a hare, be seen scudding over her favourite +and well-remembered haunts. + +[Footnote 21: _Dublin University Magazine, 1839._] + +[Footnote 22: _Aghavoe_--"the field of kine"--a beautiful and romantic +village near Borris-in-Ossory, in the Queen's County. It was once a +place of considerable importance, and for centuries the episcopal seat +of the diocese of Ossory, but for ages back it has gone to decay, and +is now remarkable for nothing but the magnificent ruins of a priory of +the Dominicans, erected here at an early period by St. Canice, the +patron saint of Ossory.] + +[Footnote 23: It was once a common practice in Ireland to nail a piece +of horseshoe on the threshold of the door, as a preservative against +the influence of the fairies, who, it is thought, dare not enter any +house thus guarded. This custom, however, is much on the wane, but +still it is prevalent in some of the more uncivilised districts of the +country.] + +[Footnote 24: Red-haired people are thought to possess magic power.] + + + + +THE HORNED WOMEN.[25] + +LADY WILDE. + + +A rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, while +all the family and servants were asleep. Suddenly a knock was given at +the door, and a voice called--"Open! open!" + +"Who is there?" said the woman of the house. + +"I am the Witch of the one Horn," was answered. + +The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbours had called and +required assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having in +her hand a pair of wool carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, +as if growing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and began to +card the wool with violent haste. Suddenly she paused, and said aloud: +"Where are the women? they delay too long." + +Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, +"Open! open!" + +The mistress felt herself constrained to rise and open to the call, +and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her +forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool. + +"Give me place," she said, "I am the Witch of the two Horns," and she +began to spin as quick as lightning. + +And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches +entered, until at last twelve women sat round the fire--the first with +one horn, the last with twelve horns. + +And they carded the thread, and turned their spinning-wheels, and +wound and wove. + +All singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speak to +the mistress of the house. Strange to hear, and frightful to look +upon, were these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and +the mistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might +call for help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a +cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her. + +Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said-- + +"Rise, woman, and make us a cake." Then the mistress searched for a +vessel to bring water from the well that she might mix the meal and +make the cake, but she could find none. + +And they said to her, "Take a sieve and bring water in it." + +And she took the sieve and went to the well; but the water poured from +it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the +well and wept. + +Then a voice came by her and said, "Take yellow clay and moss, and +bind them together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold." + +This she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and the voice +said again-- + +"Return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house, cry +aloud three times and say, 'The mountain of the Fenian women and the +sky over it is all on fire.'" + +And she did so. + +When the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry broke +from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentations and +shrieks, and fled away to Slievenamon,[26] where was their chief +abode. But the Spirit of the Well bade the mistress of the house to +enter and prepare her home against the enchantments of the witches if +they returned again. + +And first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in which she +had washed her child's feet (the feet-water) outside the door on the +threshold; secondly, she took the cake which the witches had made in +her absence of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the sleeping +family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit in the mouth +of each sleeper, and they were restored; and she took the cloth they +had woven and placed it half in and half out of the chest with the +padlock; and lastly, she secured the door with a great crossbeam +fastened in the jambs, so that they could not enter, and having done +these things she waited. + +Not long were the witches in coming back, and they raged and called +for vengeance. + +"Open! open!" they screamed, "open, feet-water!" + +"I cannot," said the feet-water, "I am scattered on the ground, and my +path is down to the Lough." + +"Open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried to the door. + +"I cannot," said the door, "for the beam is fixed in the jambs and I +have no power to move." + +"Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!" they +cried again. + +"I cannot," said the cake, "for I am broken and bruised, and my blood +is on the lips of the sleeping children." + +Then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fled +back to Slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the Spirit of the +Well, who had wished their ruin; but the woman and the house were left +in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her flight was +kept hung up by the mistress as a sign of the night's awful contest; +and this mantle was in possession of the same family from generation +to generation for five hundred years after. + +[Footnote 25: _Ancient Legends of Ireland._] + +[Footnote 26: _Sliábh-na-mban_--_i.e._, mountains of the women.] + + + + +THE WITCHES' EXCURSION.[27] + +PATRICK KENNEDY. + + +Shemus Rua[28] (Red James) awakened from his sleep one night by noises +in his kitchen. Stealing to the door, he saw half-a-dozen old women +sitting round the fire, jesting and laughing, his old housekeeper, +Madge, quite frisky and gay, helping her sister crones to cheering +glasses of punch. He began to admire the impudence and imprudence of +Madge, displayed in the invitation and the riot, but recollected on +the instant her officiousness in urging him to take a comfortable +posset, which she had brought to his bedside just before he fell +asleep. Had he drunk it, he would have been just now deaf to the +witches' glee. He heard and saw them drink his health in such a +mocking style as nearly to tempt him to charge them, besom in hand, +but he restrained himself. + +The jug being emptied, one of them cried out, "Is it time to be gone?" +and at the same moment, putting on a red cap, she added-- + + "By yarrow and rue, + And my red cap too, + Hie over to England." + +Making use of a twig which she held in her hand as a steed, she +gracefully soared up the chimney, and was rapidly followed by the +rest. But when it came to the housekeeper, Shemus interposed. "By your +leave, ma'am," said he, snatching twig and cap. "Ah, you desateful +ould crocodile! If I find you here on my return, there'll be wigs on +the green-- + + 'By yarrow and rue, + And my red cap too, + Hie over to England.'" + +The words were not out of his mouth when he was soaring above the +ridge pole, and swiftly ploughing the air. He was careful to speak no +word (being somewhat conversant with witch-lore), as the result would +be a tumble, and the immediate return of the expedition. + +In a very short time they had crossed the Wicklow hills, the Irish +Sea, and the Welsh mountains, and were charging, at whirlwind speed, +the hall door of a castle. Shemus, only for the company in which he +found himself, would have cried out for pardon, expecting to be +_mummy_ against the hard oak door in a moment; but, all bewildered, he +found himself passing through the key-hole, along a passage, down a +flight of steps, and through a cellar-door key-hole before he could +form any clear idea of his situation. + +Waking to the full consciousness of his position, he found himself +sitting on a stillion, plenty of lights glimmering round, and he and +his companions, with full tumblers of frothing wine in hand, +hob-nobbing and drinking healths as jovially and recklessly as if the +liquor was honestly come by, and they were sitting in _Shemus's_ own +kitchen. The red birredh[29] had assimilated _Shemus's_ nature for the +time being to that of his unholy companions. The heady liquors soon +got into their brains, and a period of unconsciousness succeeded the +ecstasy, the head-ache, the turning round of the barrels, and the +"scattered sight" of poor Shemus. He woke up under the impression of +being roughly seized, and shaken, and dragged upstairs, and subjected +to a disagreeable examination by the lord of the castle, in his state +parlour. There was much derision among the whole company, gentle and +simple, on hearing Shemus's explanation, and, as the thing occurred in +the dark ages, the unlucky Leinster man was sentenced to be hung as +soon as the gallows could be prepared for the occasion. + +The poor Hibernian was in the cart proceeding on his last journey, +with a label on his back, and another on his breast, announcing him as +the remorseless villain who for the last month had been draining the +casks in my lord's vault every night. He was surprised to hear himself +addressed by his name, and in his native tongue, by an old woman in +the crowd. "Ach, Shemus, alanna! is it going to die you are in a +strange place without your _cappeen d'yarrag_?"[30] These words +infused hope and courage into the poor victim's heart. He turned to +the lord and humbly asked leave to die in his red cap, which he +supposed had dropped from his head in the vault. A servant was sent +for the head-piece, and Shemus felt lively hope warming his heart +while placing it on his head. On the platform he was graciously +allowed to address the spectators, which he proceeded to do in the +usual formula composed for the benefit of flying stationers--"Good +people all, a warning take by me;" but when he had finished the line, +"My parents reared me tenderly," he unexpectedly added--"By yarrow and +rue," etc., and the disappointed spectators saw him shoot up obliquely +through the air in the style of a sky-rocket that had missed its aim. +It is said that the lord took the circumstance much to heart, and +never afterwards hung a man for twenty-four hours after his offence. + +[Footnote 27: _Fictions of the Irish Celts._] + +[Footnote 28: Irish, _Séumus Ruadh_. The Celtic vocal organs are +unable to pronounce the letter j, hence they make Shon or Shawn of +John, or Shamus of James, etc.] + +[Footnote 29: Ir., _Birreud_--_i.e._, a cap.] + +[Footnote 30: Irish, _caipín dearg_--_i.e._, red cap.] + + + + +THE CONFESSIONS OF TOM BOURKE. + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +Tom Bourke lives in a low, long farm-house, resembling in outward +appearance a large barn, placed at the bottom of the hill, just where +the new road strikes off from the old one, leading from the town of +Kilworth to that of Lismore. He is of a class of persons who are a +sort of black swans in Ireland: he is a wealthy farmer. Tom's father +had, in the good old times, when a hundred pounds were no +inconsiderable treasure, either to lend or spend, accommodated his +landlord with that sum, at interest; and obtained as a return for his +civility a long lease, about half-a-dozen times more valuable than the +loan which procured it. The old man died worth several hundred pounds, +the greater part of which, with his farm, he bequeathed to his son +Tom. But besides all this, Tom received from his father, upon his +death-bed, another gift, far more valuable than worldly riches, +greatly as he prized and is still known to prize them. He was invested +with the privilege, enjoyed by few of the sons of men, of +communicating with those mysterious beings called "the good people." + +Tom Bourke is a little, stout, healthy, active man, about fifty-five +years of age. His hair is perfectly white, short and bushy behind, but +rising in front erect and thick above his forehead, like a new +clothes-brush. His eyes are of that kind which I have often observed +with persons of a quick, but limited intellect--they are small, grey, +and lively. The large and projecting eyebrows under, or rather within, +which they twinkle, give them an expression of shrewdness and +intelligence, if not of cunning. And this is very much the character of +the man. If you want to make a bargain with Tom Bourke you must act as +if you were a general besieging a town, and make your advances a long +time before you can hope to obtain possession; if you march up boldly, +and tell him at once your object, you are for the most part sure to have +the gates closed in your teeth. Tom does not wish to part with what you +wish to obtain; or another person has been speaking to him for the whole +of the last week. Or, it may be, your proposal seems to meet the most +favourable reception. "Very well, sir;" "That's true, sir;" "I'm very +thankful to your honour," and other expressions of kindness and +confidence greet you in reply to every sentence; and you part from him +wondering how he can have obtained the character which he universally +bears, of being a man whom no one can make anything of in a bargain. But +when you next meet him the flattering illusion is dissolved: you find +you are a great deal further from your object than you were when you +thought you had almost succeeded; his eye and his tongue express a total +forgetfulness of what the mind within never lost sight of for an +instant; and you have to begin operations afresh, with the disadvantage +of having put your adversary completely upon his guard. + +Yet, although Tom Bourke is, whether from supernatural revealings, or +(as many will think more probable) from the tell-truth experience, so +distrustful of mankind, and so close in his dealings with them, he is +no misanthrope. No man loves better the pleasures of the genial board. +The love of money, indeed, which is with him (and who will blame him?) +a very ruling propensity, and the gratification which it has received +from habits of industry, sustained throughout a pretty long and +successful life, have taught him the value of sobriety, during those +seasons, at least, when a man's business requires him to keep +possession of his senses. He has, therefore, a general rule, never to +get drunk but on Sundays. But in order that it should be a general one +to all intents and purposes, he takes a method which, according to +better logicians than he is, always proves the rule. He has many +exceptions; among these, of course, are the evenings of all the fair +and market-days that happen in his neighbourhood; so also all the days +in which funerals, marriages, and christenings take place among his +friends within many miles of him. As to this last class of exceptions, +it may appear at first very singular, that he is much more punctual in +his attendance at the funerals than at the baptisms or weddings of his +friends. This may be construed as an instance of disinterested +affection for departed worth, very uncommon in this selfish world. But +I am afraid that the motives which lead Tom Bourke to pay more court +to the dead than the living are precisely those which lead to the +opposite conduct in the generality of mankind--a hope of future +benefit and a fear of future evil. For the good people, who are a +race as powerful as they are capricious, have their favourites among +those who inhabit this world; often show their affection by easing the +objects of it from the load of this burdensome life; and frequently +reward or punish the living according to the degree of reverence paid +to the obsequies and the memory of the elected dead. + +Some may attribute to the same cause the apparently humane and +charitable actions which Tom, and indeed the other members of his +family, are known frequently to perform. A beggar has seldom left +their farm-yard with an empty wallet, or without obtaining a night's +lodging, if required, with a sufficiency of potatoes and milk to +satisfy even an Irish beggar's appetite; in appeasing which, account +must usually be taken of the auxiliary jaws of a hungry dog, and of +two or three still more hungry children, who line themselves well +within, to atone for their nakedness without. If one of the +neighbouring poor be seized with a fever, Tom will often supply the +sick wretch with some untenanted hut upon one of his two large farms +(for he has added one to his patrimony), or will send his labourers to +construct a shed at a hedge-side, and supply straw for a bed while the +disorder continues. His wife, remarkable for the largeness of her +dairy, and the goodness of everything it contains, will furnish milk +for whey; and their good offices are frequently extended to the family +of the patient, who are, perhaps, reduced to the extremity of +wretchedness, by even the temporary suspension of a father's or a +husband's labour. + +If much of this arises from the hopes and fears to which I above +alluded, I believe much of it flows from a mingled sense of compassion +and of duty, which is sometimes seen to break from an Irish peasant's +heart, even where it happens to be enveloped in a habitual covering of +avarice and fraud; and which I once heard speak in terms not to be +misunderstood: "When we get a deal, 'tis only fair we should give back +a little of it." + +It is not easy to prevail on Tom to speak of those good people, with +whom he is said to hold frequent and intimate communications. To the +faithful, who believe in their power, and their occasional delegation +of it to him, he seldom refuses, if properly asked, to exercise his +high prerogative when any unfortunate being is _struck_ in his +neighbourhood. Still he will not be won unsued: he is at first +difficult of persuasion, and must be overcome by a little gentle +violence. On these occasions he is unusually solemn and mysterious, +and if one word of reward be mentioned he at once abandons the unhappy +patient, such a proposition being a direct insult to his supernatural +superiors. It is true that, as the labourer is worthy of his hire, +most persons gifted as he is do not scruple to receive a token of +gratitude from the patients or their friends _after_ their recovery. +It is recorded that a very handsome gratuity was once given to a +female practitioner in this occult science, who deserves to be +mentioned, not only because she was a neighbour and a rival of Tom's, +but from the singularity of a mother deriving her name from her son. +Her son's name was Owen, and she was always called _Owen sa vauher_ +(Owen's mother). This person was, on the occasion to which I have +alluded, _persuaded_ to give her assistance to a young girl who had +lost the use of her right leg; _Owen sa vauher_ found the cure a +difficult one. A journey of about eighteen miles was essential for the +purpose, probably to visit one of the good people who resided at that +distance; and this journey could only be performed by _Owen sa vauher_ +travelling upon the back of a white hen. The visit, however, was +accomplished; and at a particular hour, according to the prediction of +this extraordinary woman, when the hen and her rider were to reach +their journey's end, the patient was seized with an irresistible +desire to dance, which she gratified with the most perfect freedom of +the diseased leg, much to the joy of her anxious family. The gratuity +in this case was, as it surely ought to have been, unusually large, +from the difficulty of procuring a hen willing to go so long a journey +with such a rider. + +To do Tom Bourke justice, he is on these occasions, as I have heard +from many competent authorities, perfectly disinterested. Not many +months since he recovered a young woman (the sister of a tradesman +living near him), who had been struck speechless after returning from +a funeral, and had continued so for several days. He steadfastly +refused receiving any compensation, saying that even if he had not as +much as would buy him his supper, he could take nothing in this case, +because the girl had offended at the funeral of one of the _good +people_ belonging to his own family, and though he would do her a +kindness, he could take none from her. + +About the time this last remarkable affair took place, my friend Mr. +Martin, who is a neighbour of Tom's, had some business to transact with +him, which it was exceedingly difficult to bring to a conclusion. At +last Mr. Martin, having tried all quiet means, had recourse to a legal +process, which brought Tom to reason, and the matter was arranged to +their mutual satisfaction, and with perfect good-humour between the +parties. The accommodation took place after dinner at Mr. Martin's +house, and he invited Tom to walk into the parlour and take a glass of +punch, made of some excellent _poteen_, which was on the table: he had +long wished to draw out his highly-endowed neighbour on the subject of +his supernatural powers, and as Mrs. Martin, who was in the room, was +rather a favourite of Tom's, this seemed a good opportunity. + +"Well, Tom," said Mr. Martin, "that was a curious business of Molly +Dwyer's, who recovered her speech so suddenly the other day." + +"You may say that, sir," replied Tom Bourke; "but I had to travel far +for it: no matter for that now. Your health, ma'am," said he, turning +to Mrs. Martin. + +"Thank you, Tom. But I am told you had some trouble once in that way +in your own family," said Mrs Martin. + +"So I had, ma'am; trouble enough: but you were only a child at that +time." + +"Come, Tom," said the hospitable Mr. Martin, interrupting him, "take +another tumbler;" and he then added, "I wish you would tell us +something of the manner in which so many of your children died. I am +told they dropped off, one after another, by the same disorder, and +that your eldest son was cured in a most extraordinary way, when the +physicians had given him over." + +"'Tis true for you, sir," returned Tom; "your father, the doctor (God +be good to him, I won't belie him in his grave), told me, when my +fourth boy was a week sick, that himself and Dr. Barry did all that +man could do for him; but they could not keep him from going after the +rest. No more they could, if the people that took away the rest wished +to take him too. But they left him; and sorry to the heart I am I did +not know before why they were taking my boys from me; if I did, I +would not be left trusting to two of 'em now." + +"And how did you find it out, Tom?" inquired Mr. Martin. + +"Why, then, I'll tell you, sir," said Bourke. "When your father said +what I told you, I did not know very well what to do. I walked down +the little _bohereen_[31] you know, sir, that goes to the river-side +near Dick Heafy's ground; for 'twas a lonesome place, and I wanted to +think of myself. I was heavy, sir, and my heart got weak in me, when I +thought I was to lose my little boy; and I did not well know how to +face his mother with the news, for she doated down upon him. Besides, +she never got the better of all she cried at his brother's +_berrin_[32] the week before. As I was going down the _bohereen_ I met +an old _bocough_, that used to come about the place once or twice +a-year, and used always to sleep in our barn while he staid in the +neighbourhood. So he asked me how I was. 'Bad enough, Shamous,'[33] +says I. 'I'm sorry for your trouble,' says he; 'but you're a foolish +man, Mr. Bourke. Your son would be well enough if you would only do +what you ought with him.' 'What more can I do with him, Shamous?' +says I; 'the doctors give him over.' 'The doctors know no more what +ails him than they do what ails a cow when she stops her milk,' says +Shamous; 'but go to such a one,' telling me his name, 'and try what +he'll say to you.'" + +"And who was that, Tom?" asked Mr. Martin. + +"I could not tell you that, sir," said Bourke, with a mysterious look; +"howsomever, you often saw him, and he does not live far from this. +But I had a trial of him before; and if I went to him at first, maybe +I'd have now some of them that's gone, and so Shamous often told me. +Well, sir, I went to this man, and he came with me to the house. By +course, I did everything as he bid me. According to his order, I took +the little boy out of the dwelling-house immediately, sick as he was, +and made a bed for him and myself in the cow-house. Well, sir, I lay +down by his side in the bed, between two of the cows, and he fell +asleep. He got into a perspiration, saving your presence, as if he was +drawn through the river, and breathed hard, with a great _impression_ +on his chest, and was very bad--very bad entirely through the night. I +thought about twelve o'clock he was going at last, and I was just +getting up to go call the man I told you of; but there was no +occasion. My friends were getting the better of them that wanted to +take him away from me. There was nobody in the cow-house but the child +and myself. There was only one halfpenny candle lighting it, and that +was stuck in the wall at the far end of the house. I had just enough +of light where we were lying to see a person walking or standing near +us: and there was no more noise than if it was a churchyard, except +the cows chewing the fodder in the stalls. + +"Just as I was thinking of getting up, as I told you--I won't belie my +father, sir, he was a good father to me--I saw him standing at the +bedside, holding out his right hand to me, and leaning his other on the +stick he used to carry when he was alive, and looking pleasant and +smiling at me, all as if he was telling me not to be afeard, for I would +not lose the child. 'Is that you, father?' says I. He said nothing. 'If +that's you,' says I again, 'for the love of them that gone, let me +catch your hand.' And so he did, sir; and his hand was as soft as a +child's. He stayed about as long as you'd be going from this to the gate +below at the end of the avenue, and then went away. In less than a week +the child was as well as if nothing ever ailed him; and there isn't +to-night a healthier boy of nineteen, from this blessed house to the +town of Ballyporeen, across the Kilworth mountains." + +"But I think, Tom," said Mr. Martin, "it appears as if you are more +indebted to your father than to the man recommended to you by Shamous; +or do you suppose it was he who made favour with your enemies among +the good people, and that then your father----" + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Bourke, interrupting him; "but don't +call them my enemies. 'Twould not be wishing to me for a good deal to +sit by when they are called so. No offence to you, sir. Here's wishing +you a good health and long life." + +"I assure you," returned Mr. Martin, "I meant no offence, Tom; but was +it not as I say?" + +"I can't tell you that, sir," said Bourke; "I'm bound down, sir. +Howsoever, you may be sure the man I spoke of and my father, and those +they know, settled it between them." + +There was a pause, of which Mrs. Martin took advantage to inquire of +Tom whether something remarkable had not happened about a goat and a +pair of pigeons, at the time of his son's illness--circumstances often +mysteriously hinted at by Tom. + +"See that, now," said he, turning to Mr. Martin, "how well she +remembers it! True for you, ma'am. The goat I gave the mistress, your +mother, when the doctors ordered her goats' whey?" + +Mrs. Martin nodded assent, and Tom Bourke continued, "Why, then, I'll +tell you how that was. The goat was as well as e'er goat ever was, for +a month after she was sent to Killaan, to your father's. The morning +after the night I just told you of, before the child woke, his mother +was standing at the gap leading out of the barn-yard into the road, +and she saw two pigeons flying from the town of Kilworth off the +church down towards her. Well, they never stopped, you see, till they +came to the house on the hill at the other side of the river, facing +our farm. They pitched upon the chimney of that house, and after +looking about them for a minute or two, they flew straight across the +river, and stopped on the ridge of the cow-house where the child and I +were lying. Do you think they came there for nothing, sir?" + +"Certainly not, Tom," returned Mr. Martin. + +"Well, the woman came in to me, frightened, and told me. She began to +cry. 'Whist, you fool?' says I; 'tis all for the better.' 'Twas true +for me. What do you think, ma'am; the goat that I gave your mother, +that was seen feeding at sunrise that morning by Jack Cronin, as merry +as a bee, dropped down dead without anybody knowing why, before Jack's +face; and at that very moment he saw two pigeons fly from the top of +the house out of the town, towards the Lismore road. 'Twas at the same +time my woman saw them, as I just told you." + +"'Twas very strange, indeed, Tom," said Mr. Martin; "I wish you could +give us some explanation of it." + +"I wish I could, sir," was Tom Bourke's answer; "but I'm bound down. I +can't tell but what I'm allowed to tell, any more than a sentry is let +walk more than his rounds." + +"I think you said something of having had some former knowledge of the +man that assisted in the cure of your son," said Mr. Martin. + +"So I had, sir," returned Bourke. "I had a trial of that man. But +that's neither here nor there. I can't tell you anything about that, +sir. But would you like to know how he got his skill?" + +"Oh! very much, indeed," said Mr. Martin. + +"But you can tell us his Christian name, that we may know him better +through the story," added Mrs. Martin. + +Tom Bourke paused for a minute to consider this proposition. + +"Well, I believe that I may tell you that, anyhow; his name is +Patrick. He was always a smart, 'cute[34] boy, and would be a great +clerk if he stuck to it. The first time I knew him, sir, was at my +mother's wake. I was in great trouble, for I did not know where to +bury her. Her people and my father's people--I mean their friends, +sir, among the _good people_--had the greatest battle that was known +for many a year, at Dunmanwaycross, to see to whose churchyard she'd +be taken. They fought for three nights, one after another, without +being able to settle it. The neighbours wondered how long I was before +I buried my mother; but I had my reasons, though I could not tell them +at that time. Well, sir, to make my story short, Patrick came on the +fourth morning and told me he settled the business, and that day we +buried her in Kilcrumper churchyard, with my father's people." + +"He was a valuable friend, Tom," said Mrs. Martin, with difficulty +suppressing a smile. "But you were about to tell how he became so +skilful." + +"So I will and welcome," replied Bourke. "Your health, ma'am. I'm +drinking too much of this punch, sir; but to tell the truth, I never +tasted the like of it; it goes down one's throat like sweet oil. But +what was I going to say? Yes--well--Patrick, many a long year ago, was +coming home from a _berrin_ late in the evening, and walking by the +side of a river, opposite the big inch,[35] near Ballyhefaan ford. He +had taken a drop, to be sure; but he was only a little merry, as you +may say, and knew very well what he was doing. The moon was shining, +for it was in the month of August, and the river was as smooth and as +bright as a looking-glass. He heard nothing for a long time but the +fall of the water at the mill weir about a mile down the river, and +now and then the crying of the lambs on the other side of the river. +All at once there was a noise of a great number of people laughing as +if they'd break their hearts, and of a piper playing among them. It +came from the inch at the other side of the ford, and he saw, through +the mist that hung over the river, a whole crowd of people dancing on +the inch. Patrick was as fond of a dance, as he was of a glass, and +that's saying enough for him; so he whipped off his shoes and +stockings, and away with him across the ford. After putting on his +shoes and stockings at the other side of the river he walked over to +the crowd, and mixed with them for some time without being minded. He +thought, sir, that he'd show them better dancing than any of +themselves, for he was proud of his feet, sir, and a good right he +had, for there was not a boy in the same parish could foot a double or +treble with him. But pwah! his dancing was no more to theirs than mine +would be to the mistress' there. They did not seem as if they had a +bone in their bodies, and they kept it up as if nothing could tire +them. Patrick was 'shamed within himself, for he thought he had not +his fellow in all the country round; and was going away, when a little +old man, that was looking at the company bitterly, as if he did not +like what was going on, came up to him. 'Patrick,' says he. Patrick +started, for he did not think anybody there knew him. 'Patrick,' says +he, 'you're discouraged, and no wonder for you. But you have a friend +near you. I'm your friend, and your father's friend, and I think +worse[36] of your little finger than I do of all that are here, though +they think no one is as good as themselves. Go into the ring and call +for a lilt. Don't be afeard. I tell you the best of them did not do it +as well as you shall, if you will do as I bid you.' Patrick felt +something within him as if he ought not to gainsay the old man. He +went into the ring, and called the piper to play up the best double he +had. And sure enough, all that the others were able for was nothing to +him! He bounded like an eel, now here and now there, as light as a +feather, although the people could hear the music answered by his +steps, that beat time to every turn of it, like the left foot of the +piper. He first danced a hornpipe on the ground. Then they got a +table, and he danced a treble on it that drew down shouts from the +whole company. At last he called for a trencher; and when they saw +him, all as if he was spinning on it like a top, they did not know +what to make of him. Some praised him for the best dancer that ever +entered a ring; others hated him because he was better than +themselves; although they had good right to think themselves better +than him or any other man that ever went the long journey." + +"And what was the cause of his great success?" inquired Mr. Martin. + +"He could not help it, sir," replied Tom Bourke. "They that could make +him do more than that made him do it. Howsomever, when he had done, +they wanted him to dance again, but he was tired, and they could not +persuade him. At last he got angry, and swore a big oath, saving your +presence, that he would not dance a step more; and the word was hardly +out of his mouth when he found himself all alone, with nothing but a +white cow grazing by his side." + +"Did he ever discover why he was gifted with these extraordinary +powers in the dance, Tom?" said Mr. Martin. + +"I'll tell you that too, sir," answered Bourke, "when I come to it. +When he went home, sir, he was taken with a shivering, and went to +bed; and the next day they found he had got the fever, or something +like it, for he raved like as if he was mad. But they couldn't make +out what it was he was saying, though he talked constant. The doctors +gave him over. But it's little they knew what ailed him. When he was, +as you may say, about ten days sick, and everybody thought he was +going, one of the neighbours came in to him with a man, a friend of +his, from Ballinlacken, that was keeping with him some time before. I +can't tell you his name either, only it was Darby. The minute Darby +saw Patrick he took a little bottle, with the juice of herbs in it, +out of his pocket, and gave Patrick a drink of it. He did the same +every day for three weeks, and then Patrick was able to walk about, as +stout and as hearty as ever he was in his life. But he was a long +time before he came to himself; and he used to walk the whole day +sometimes by the ditch-side, talking to himself, like as if there was +someone along with him. And so there was, surely, or he wouldn't be +the man he is to-day." + +"I suppose it was from some such companion he learned his skill," said +Mr. Martin. + +"You have it all now, sir," replied Bourke. "Darby told him his +friends were satisfied with what he did the night of the dance; and +though they couldn't hinder the fever, they'd bring him over it, and +teach him more than many knew beside him. And so they did. For you +see, all the people he met on the inch that night were friends of a +different faction; only the old man that spoke to him, he was a friend +of Patrick's family, and it went again his heart, you see, that the +others were so light and active, and he was bitter in himself to hear +'em boasting how they'd dance with any set in the whole country round. +So he gave Patrick the gift that night, and afterwards gave him the +skill that makes him the wonder of all that know him. And to be sure +it was only learning he was at that time when he was wandering in his +mind after the fever." + +"I have heard many strange stories about that inch near Ballyhefaan +ford," said Mr. Martin. "'Tis a great place for the good people, isn't +it, Tom?" + +"You may say that, sir," returned Bourke. "I could tell you a great +deal about it. Many a time I sat for as good as two hours by +moonlight, at th' other side of the river, looking at 'em playing goal +as if they'd break their hearts over it; with their coats and +waistcoats off, and white handkerchiefs on the heads of one party, and +red ones on th' other, just as you'd see on a Sunday in Mr. Simming's +big field. I saw 'em one night play till the moon set, without one +party being able to take the ball from th' other. I'm sure they were +going to fight, only 'twas near morning. I'm told your grandfather, +ma'am, used to see 'em there too," said Bourke, turning to Mrs. Martin. + +"So I have been told, Tom," replied Mrs. Martin. "But don't they say +that the churchyard of Kilcrumper is just as favourite a place with +the good people as Ballyhefaan inch?" + +"Why, then, maybe you never heard, ma'am, what happened to Davy Roche +in that same churchyard," said Bourke; and turning to Mr. Martin, +added, "'Twas a long time before he went into your service, sir. He +was walking home, of an evening, from the fair of Kilcumber, a little +merry, to be sure, after the day, and he came up with a berrin. So he +walked along with it, and thought it very queer that he did not know a +mother's soul in the crowd but one man, and he was sure that man was +dead many years afore. Howsomever, he went on with the berrin till +they came to Kilcrumper churchyard; and, faith, he went in and stayed +with the rest, to see the corpse buried. As soon as the grave was +covered, what should they do but gather about a piper that _come_ +along with 'em, and fall to dancing as if it was a wedding. Davy +longed to be among 'em (for he hadn't a bad foot of his own, that +time, whatever he may now); but he was loth to begin, because they all +seemed strange to him, only the man I told you that he thought was +dead. Well, at last this man saw what Davy wanted, and came up to him. +'Davy,' says he, 'take out a partner, and show what you can do, but +take care and don't offer to kiss her.' 'That I won't,' says Davy, +'although her lips were made of honey.' And with that he made his bow +to the _purtiest_ girl in the ring, and he and she began to dance. +'Twas a jig they danced, and they did it to th' admiration, do you +see, of all that were there. 'Twas all very well till the jig was +over; but just as they had done, Davy, for he had a drop in, and was +warm with the dancing, forgot himself, and kissed his partner, +according to custom. The smack was no sooner off of his lips, you see, +than he was left alone in the churchyard, without a creature near him, +and all he could see was the tall tombstones. Davy said they seemed as +if they were dancing too, but I suppose that was only the wonder that +happened him, and he being a little in drink. Howsomever, he found it +was a great many hours later than he thought it; 'twas near morning +when he came home; but they couldn't get a word out of him till the +next day, when he woke out of a dead sleep about twelve o'clock." + +When Tom had finished the account of Davy Roche and the berrin, it +became quite evident that spirits, of some sort, were working too strong +within him to admit of his telling many more tales of the good people. +Tom seemed conscious of this. He muttered for a few minutes broken +sentences concerning churchyards, river-sides, leprechauns, and _dina +magh_,[37] which were quite unintelligible, perhaps, to himself, +certainly to Mr. Martin and his lady. At length he made a slight motion +of the head upwards, as if he would say, "I can talk no more;" stretched +his arm on the table, upon which he placed the empty tumbler slowly, and +with the most knowing and cautious air; and rising from his chair, +walked, or rather rolled, to the parlour door. Here he turned round to +face his host and hostess; but after various ineffectual attempts to bid +them good-night, the words, as they rose, being always choked by a +violent hiccup, while the door, which he held by the handle, swung to +and fro, carrying his unyielding body along with it, he was obliged to +depart in silence. The cow-boy, sent by Tom's wife, who knew well what +sort of allurement detained him when he remained out after a certain +hour, was in attendance to conduct his master home. I have no doubt that +he returned without meeting any material injury, as I know that within +the last month he was, to use his own words, "as stout and hearty a man +as any of his age in the county Cork." + +[Footnote 31: _Bohereen_, or _bogheen_, _i.e._, a green lane.] + +[Footnote 32: _Berrin_, burying.] + +[Footnote 33: _Shamous_, James.] + +[Footnote 34: _'Cute_, acute.] + +[Footnote 35: _Inch_, low meadow ground near a river.] + +[Footnote 36: _Worse_, more.] + +[Footnote 37: _Daoine maithe_, _i.e._, the good people.] + + + + +THE PUDDING BEWITCHED. + +WILLIAM CARLETON. + + +"Moll Roe Rafferty was the son--daughter I mane--of ould Jack Rafferty, +who was remarkable for a habit he had of always wearing his head undher +his hat; but indeed the same family was a quare one, as everybody knew +that was acquainted wid them. It was said of them--but whether it was +thrue or not I won't undhertake to say, for 'fraid I'd tell a lie--that +whenever they didn't wear shoes or boots they always went barefooted; +but I heard aftherwards that this was disputed, so rather than say +anything to injure their character, I'll let that pass. Now, ould Jack +Rafferty had two sons, Paddy and Molly--hut! what are you all laughing +at?--I mane a son and daughter, and it was generally believed among the +neighbours that they were brother and sisther, which you know might be +thrue or it might not: but that's a thing that, wid the help o' +goodness, we have nothing to say to. Troth there was many ugly things +put out on them that I don't wish to repate, such as that neither Jack +nor his son Paddy ever walked a perch widout puttin' one foot afore the +other like a salmon; an' I know it was whispered about, that whinever +Moll Roe slep', she had an out-of-the-way custom of keepin' her eyes +shut. If she did, however, for that matther the loss was her own; for +sure we all know that when one comes to shut their eyes they can't see +as far before them as another. + +"Moll Roe was a fine young bouncin' girl, large and lavish, wid a +purty head o' hair on her like scarlet, that bein' one of the raisons +why she was called _Roe_, or red; her arms an' cheeks were much the +colour of the hair, an' her saddle nose was the purtiest thing of its +kind that ever was on a face. Her fists--for, thank goodness, she was +well sarved wid them too--had a strong simularity to two thumpin' +turnips, reddened by the sun; an' to keep all right and tight, she had +a temper as fiery as her head--for, indeed, it was well known that all +the Rafferties were _warm_-hearted. Howandiver, it appears that God +gives nothing in vain, and of coorse the same fists, big and red as +they were, if all that is said about them is thrue, were not so much +given to her for ornament as use. At laist, takin' them in connection +wid her lively temper, we have it upon good authority, that there was +no danger of their getting blue-moulded for want of practice. She had +a twist, too, in one of her eyes that was very becomin' in its way, +and made her poor husband, when she got him, take it into his head +that she could see round a corner. She found him out in many quare +things, widout doubt; but whether it was owin' to that or not, I +wouldn't undertake to say _for fraid I'd tell a lie_. + +"Well, begad, anyhow it was Moll Roe that was the _dilsy_.[38] It +happened that there was a nate vagabone in the neighbourhood, just as +much overburdened wid beauty as herself, and he was named Gusty +Gillespie. Gusty, the Lord guard us, was what they call a black-mouth +Prosbytarian, and wouldn't keep Christmas-day, the blagard, except +what they call 'ould style.' Gusty was rather good-lookin' when seen +in the dark, as well as Moll herself; and, indeed, it was purty well +known that--accordin' as the talk went--it was in nightly meetings +that they had an opportunity of becomin' detached to one another. The +quensequence was, that in due time both families began to talk very +seriously as to what was to be done. Moll's brother, Pawdien +O'Rafferty, gave Gusty the best of two choices. What they were it's +not worth spakin' about; but at any rate _one_ of them was a poser, +an' as Gusty knew his man, he soon came to his senses. Accordianly +everything was deranged for their marriage, and it was appointed that +they should be spliced by the Rev. Samuel M'Shuttle, the Prosbytarian +parson, on the following Sunday. + +"Now this was the first marriage that had happened for a long time in +the neighbourhood betune a black-mouth an' a Catholic, an' of coorse +there was strong objections on both sides aginst it; an' begad, only +for one thing, it would never 'a tuck place at all. At any rate, faix, +there was one of the bride's uncles, ould Harry Connolly, a fairy-man, +who could cure all complaints wid a secret he had, and as he didn't +wish to see his niece married upon sich a fellow, he fought bittherly +against the match. All Moll's friends, however, stood up for the +marriage barrin' him, an' of coorse the Sunday was appointed, as I +said, that they were to be dove-tailed together. + +"Well, the day arrived, and Moll, as became her, went to mass, and +Gusty to meeting, afther which they were to join one another in Jack +Rafferty's, where the priest, Father M'Sorley, was to slip up afther +mass to take his dinner wid them, and to keep Misther M'Shuttle, who +was to marry them, company. Nobody remained at home but ould Jack +Rafferty an' his wife, who stopped to dress the dinner, for, to tell +the truth, it was to be a great let-out entirely. Maybe, if all was +known, too, that Father M'Sorley was to give them a cast of his office +over an' above the ministher, in regard that Moll's friends were not +altogether satisfied at the kind of marriage which M'Shuttle could +give them. The sorrow may care about that--splice here--splice +there--all I can say is, that when Mrs. Rafferty was goin' to tie up a +big bag pudden, in walks Harry Connolly, the fairy-man, in a rage, and +shouts out,--'Blood and blunderbushes, what are yez here for?' + +"'Arrah why, Harry? Why, avick?' + +"'Why, the sun's in the suds and the moon in the high Horicks; there's +a clipstick comin' an, an' there you're both as unconsarned as if it +was about to rain mether. Go out and cross yourselves three times in +the name o' the four Mandromarvins, for as prophecy says:--Fill the +pot, Eddy, supernaculum--a blazing star's a rare spectaculum. Go out +both of you and look at the sun, I say, an' ye'll see the condition +he's in--off!' + +"Begad, sure enough, Jack gave a bounce to the door, and his wife +leaped like a two-year-ould, till they were both got on a stile beside +the house to see what was wrong in the sky. + +"'Arrah, what is it, Jack,' said she; 'can you see anything?' + +"'No,' says he, 'sorra the full o' my eye of anything I can spy, +barrin' the sun himself, that's not visible in regard of the clouds. +God guard us! I doubt there's something to happen.' + +"'If there wasn't, Jack, what 'ud put Harry, that knows so much, in +the state he's in?' + +"'I doubt it's this marriage,' said Jack: 'betune ourselves, it's not +over an' above religious for Moll to marry a black-mouth, an' only +for----; but it can't be helped now, though you see not a taste o' the +sun is willin' to show his face upon it.' + +"'As to that,' says the wife, winkin' wid both her eyes, 'if Gusty's +satisfied wid Moll, it's enough. I know who'll carry the whip hand, +anyhow; but in the manetime let us ax Harry 'ithin what ails the sun.' + +"Well, they accordianly went in an' put the question to him: + +"'Harry, what's wrong, ahagur? What is it now, for if anybody alive +knows, 'tis yourself?' + +"'Ah!' said Harry, screwin' his mouth wid a kind of a dhry smile, 'the +sun has a hard twist o' the cholic; but never mind that, I tell you +you'll have a merrier weddin' than you think, that's all;' and havin' +said this, he put on his hat and left the house. + +"Now, Harry's answer relieved them very much, and so, afther calling +to him to be back for the dinner, Jack sat down to take a shough o' +the pipe, and the wife lost no time in tying up the pudden and puttin' +it in the pot to be boiled. + +"In this way things went on well enough for a while, Jack smokin' +away, an' the wife cookin' and dhressin' at the rate of a hunt. At +last, Jack, while sittin', as I said, contentedly at the fire, thought +he could persave an odd dancin' kind of motion in the pot that puzzled +him a good deal. + +"'Katty,' said he, 'what the dickens is in this pot on the fire?' + +"'Nerra thing but the big pudden. Why do you ax?' says she. + +"'Why,' said he, 'if ever a pot tuck it into its head to dance a jig, +and this did. Thundher and sparbles, look at it!' + +"Begad, it was thrue enough; there was the pot bobbin' up an' down and +from side to side, jiggin' it away as merry as a grig; an' it was +quite aisy to see that it wasn't the pot itself, but what was inside +of it, that brought about the hornpipe. + +"'Be the hole o' my coat,' shouted Jack, 'there's something alive in +it, or it would never cut sich capers!' + +"'Be gorra, there is, Jack; something sthrange entirely has got into +it. Wirra, man alive, what's to be done?' + +"Jist as she spoke, the pot seemed to cut the buckle in prime style, +and afther a spring that 'ud shame a dancin'-masther, off flew the +lid, and out bounced the pudden itself, hoppin', as nimble as a pea on +a drum-head, about the floor. Jack blessed himself, and Katty crossed +herself. Jack shouted, and Katty screamed. 'In the name of goodness, +keep your distance; no one here injured you!' + +"The pudden, however, made a set at him, and Jack lepped first on a +chair and then on the kitchen table to avoid it. It then danced +towards Kitty, who was now repatin' her prayers at the top of her +voice, while the cunnin' thief of a pudden was hoppin' and jiggin' it +round her, as if it was amused at her distress. + +"'If I could get the pitchfork,' said Jack, 'I'd dale wid it--by goxty +I'd thry its mettle.' + +"'No, no,' shouted Katty, thinkin' there was a fairy in it; 'let us +spake it fair. Who knows what harm it might do? Aisy now,' said she to +the pudden, 'aisy, dear; don't harm honest people that never meant to +offend you. It wasn't us--no, in troth, it was ould Harry Connolly +that bewitched you; pursue _him_ if you wish, but spare a woman like +me; for, whisper, dear, I'm not in a condition to be frightened--troth +I'm not.' + +"The pudden, bedad, seemed to take her at her word, and danced away +from her towards Jack, who, like the wife, believin' there was a fairy +in it, an' that spakin' it fair was the best plan, thought he would +give it a soft word as well as her. + +"'Plase your honour,' said Jack, 'she only spaiks the truth; an', upon +my voracity, we both feels much oblaiged to your honour for your +quietness. Faith, it's quite clear that if you weren't a gentlemanly +pudden all out, you'd act otherwise. Ould Harry, the rogue, is your +mark; he's jist gone down the road there, and if you go fast you'll +overtake him. Be me song, your dancin' masther did his duty, anyhow. +Thank your honour! God speed you, an' may you never meet wid a parson +or alderman in your thravels!' + +"Jist as Jack spoke the pudden appeared to take the hint, for it +quietly hopped out, and as the house was directly on the road-side, +turned down towards the bridge, the very way that ould Harry went. It +was very natural, of coorse, that Jack and Katty should go out to see +how it intended to thravel; and, as the day was Sunday, it was but +natural, too, that a greater number of people than usual were passin' +the road. This was a fact; and when Jack and his wife were seen +followin' the pudden, the whole neighbourhood was soon up and afther it. + +"'Jack Rafferty, what is it? Katty, ahagur, will you tell us what it +manes?' + +"'Why,' replied Katty, 'it's my big pudden that's bewitched, an' it's +now hot foot pursuin'----;' here she stopped, not wishin' to mention +her brother's name--'_some one_ or other that surely put _pishrogues_ +an it.'[39] + +"This was enough; Jack, now seein' that he had assistance, found his +courage comin' back to him; so says he to Katty, 'Go home,' says he, +'an' lose no time in makin' another pudden as good, an' here's Paddy +Scanlan's wife, Bridget, says she'll let you boil it on her fire, as +you'll want our own to dress the rest o' the dinner: and Paddy himself +will lend me a pitchfork, for purshuin to the morsel of that same +pudden will escape till I let the wind out of it, now that I've the +neighbours to back an' support me,' says Jack. + +"This was agreed to, and Katty went back to prepare a fresh pudden, +while Jack an' half the townland pursued the other wid spades, graips, +pitchforks, scythes, flails, and all possible description of +instruments. On the pudden went, however, at the rate of about six +Irish miles an hour, an' sich a chase never was seen. Catholics, +Prodestants, an' Prosbytarians, were all afther it, armed, as I said, +an' bad end to the thing but its own activity could save it. Here it +made a hop, and there a prod was made at it; but off it went, an' some +one, as eager to get a slice at it on the other side, got the prod +instead of the pudden. Big Frank Farrell, the miller of Ballyboulteen, +got a prod backwards that brought a hullabaloo out of him you might +hear at the other end of the parish. One got a slice of a scythe, +another a whack of a flail, a third a rap of a spade that made him +look nine ways at wanst. + +"'Where is it goin'?' asked one. 'My life for you, it's on it's way to +Meeting. Three cheers for it if it turns to Carntaul.' 'Prod the sowl +out of it, if it's a Prodestan',' shouted the others; 'if it turns to +the left, slice it into pancakes. We'll have no Prodestan' puddens +here.' + +"Begad, by this time the people were on the point of beginnin' to have +a regular fight about it, when, very fortunately, it took a short turn +down a little by-lane that led towards the Methodist praichin-house, +an' in an instant all parties were in an uproar against it as a +Methodist pudden. 'It's a Wesleyan,' shouted several voices; 'an' by +this an' by that, into a Methodist chapel it won't put a foot to-day, +or we'll lose a fall. Let the wind out of it. Come, boys, where's your +pitchforks?' + +"The divle purshuin to the one of them, however, ever could touch the +pudden, an' jist when they thought they had it up against the gavel of +the Methodist chapel, begad it gave them the slip, and hops over to +the left, clane into the river, and sails away before all their eyes +as light as an egg-shell. + +"Now, it so happened that a little below this place, the demesne-wall +of Colonel Bragshaw was built up to the very edge of the river on each +side of its banks; and so findin' there was a stop put to their +pursuit of it, they went home again, every man, woman, and child of +them, puzzled to think what the pudden was at all, what it meant, or +where it was goin'! Had Jack Rafferty an' his wife been willin' to let +out the opinion they held about Harry Connolly bewitchin' it, there is +no doubt of it but poor Harry might be badly trated by the crowd, +when their blood was up. They had sense enough, howandiver, to keep +that to themselves, for Harry bein' an' ould bachelor, was a kind +friend to the Raffertys. So, of coorse, there was all kinds of talk +about it--some guessin' this, and some guessin' that--one party sayin' +the pudden was of there side, another party denyin' it, an' insistin' +it belonged to them, an' so on. + +"In the manetime, Katty Rafferty, for 'fraid the dinner might come +short, went home and made another pudden much about the same size as +the one that had escaped, and bringin' it over to their next +neighbour, Paddy Scanlan's, it was put into a pot and placed on the +fire to boil, hopin' that it might be done in time, espishilly as they +were to have the ministher, who loved a warm slice of a good pudden as +well as e'er a gintleman in Europe. + +"Anyhow, the day passed; Moll and Gusty were made man an' wife, an' no +two could be more lovin'. Their friends that had been asked to the +weddin' were saunterin' about in pleasant little groups till +dinner-time, chattin' an' laughin'; but, above all things, sthrivin' +to account for the figaries of the pudden; for, to tell the truth, its +adventures had now gone through the whole parish. + +"Well, at any rate, dinner-time was dhrawin' near, and Paddy Scanlan +was sittin' comfortably wid his wife at the fire, the pudden boilen +before their eyes, when in walks Harry Connolly, in a flutter, +shoutin'--'Blood an' blunderbushes, what are yez here for?' + +"'Arra, why, Harry--why, avick?' said Mrs. Scanlan. + +"'Why,' said Harry, 'the sun's in the suds an' the moon in the high +Horicks! Here's a clipstick comin' an, an' there you sit as +unconsarned as if it was about to rain mether! Go out both of you, an' +look at the sun, I say, and ye'll see the condition he's in--off!' + +"'Ay, but, Harry, what's that rowled up in the tail of your +cothamore[40] (big coat)?' + +"'Out wid yez,' said Harry, 'an' pray aginst the clipstick--the sky's +fallin'!' + +"Begad, it was hard to say whether Paddy or the wife got out first, +they were so much alarmed by Harry's wild thin face an' piercin' eyes; +so out they went to see what was wondherful in the sky, an' kep' +lookin' an' lookin' in every direction, but not a thing was to be +seen, barrin' the sun shinin' down wid great good-humour, an' not a +single cloud in the sky. + +"Paddy an' the wife now came in laughin', to scould Harry, who, no +doubt, was a great wag in his way when he wished. 'Musha, bad scran to +you, Harry----.' They had time to say no more, howandiver, for, as +they were goin' into the door, they met him comin' out of it wid a +reek of smoke out of his tail like a lime-kiln. + +"'Harry,' shouted Bridget, 'my sowl to glory, but the tail of your +cothamore's a-fire--you'll be burned. Don't you see the smoke that's +out of it?' + +"'Cross yourselves three times,' said Harry, widout stoppin', or even +lookin' behind him, 'for, as the prophecy says--Fill the pot, +Eddy----' They could hear no more, for Harry appeared to feel like a +man that carried something a great deal hotter than he wished, as +anyone might see by the liveliness of his motions, and the quare faces +he was forced to make as he went along. + +"'What the dickens is he carryin' in the skirts of his big coat?' +asked Paddy. + +"'My sowl to happiness, but maybe he has stole the pudden,' said +Bridget, 'for it's known that many a sthrange thing he does.' + +"They immediately examined the pot, but found that the pudden was +there as safe as tuppence, an' this puzzled them the more, to think +what it was he could be carryin' about wid him in the manner he did. +But little they knew what he had done while they were sky-gazin'! + +"Well, anyhow, the day passed and the dinner was ready, an' no doubt +but a fine gatherin' there was to partake of it. The Prosbytarian +ministher met the Methodist praicher--a divilish stretcher of an +appetite he had, in throth--on their way to Jack Rafferty's, an' as he +knew he could take the liberty, why he insisted on his dinin' wid +him; for, afther all, begad, in thim times the clargy of all +descriptions lived upon the best footin' among one another, not all as +one as now--but no matther. Well, they had nearly finished their +dinner, when Jack Rafferty himself axed Katty for the pudden; but, +jist as he spoke, in it came as big as a mess-pot. + +"'Gintlemen,' said he, 'I hope none of you will refuse tastin' a bit +of Katty's pudden; I don't mane the dancin' one that tuck to its +thravels to-day, but a good solid fellow that she med since.' + +"'To be sure we won't,' replied the priest; 'so, Jack, put a thrifle +on them three plates at your right hand, and send them over here to +the clargy, an' maybe,' he said, laughin'--for he was a droll +good-humoured man--'maybe, Jack, we won't set you a proper example.' + +"'Wid a heart an' a half, yer reverence an' gintlemen; in throth, it's +not a bad example ever any of you set us at the likes, or ever will +set us, I'll go bail. An' sure I only wish it was betther fare I had +for you; but we're humble people, gintlemen, and so you can't expect +to meet here what you would in higher places.' + +"'Betther a male of herbs,' said the Methodist praicher, 'where pace +is----.' He had time to go no farther, however; for much to his +amazement, the priest and the ministher started up from the table jist +as he was goin' to swallow the first spoonful of the pudden, and +before you could say Jack Robinson, started away at a lively jig down +the floor. + +"At this moment a neighbour's son came runnin' in, an' tould them that +the parson was comin' to see the new-married couple, an' wish them all +happiness; an' the words were scarcely out of his mouth when he made +his appearance. What to think he knew not, when he saw the ministher +footing it away at the rate of a weddin'. He had very little time, +however, to think; for, before he could sit down, up starts the +Methodist praicher, and clappin' his two fists in his sides chimes in +in great style along wid him. + +"'Jack Rafferty,' says he--and, by the way, Jack was his tenant--'what +the dickens does all this mane?' says he; 'I'm amazed!' + +"'The not a particle o' me can tell you,' says Jack; 'but will your +reverence jist taste a morsel o' pudden, merely that the young couple +may boast that you ait at their weddin'; for sure if _you_ wouldn't, +_who_ would?' + +"'Well,' says he, 'to gratify them I will; so just a morsel. But, +Jack, this bates Bannagher,' says he again, puttin' the spoonful o' +pudden into his mouth; 'has there been dhrink here?' + +"'Oh, the divle a _spudh_,' says Jack, 'for although there's plinty in +the house, faith, it appears the gintlemen wouldn't wait for it. +Unless they tuck it elsewhere, I can make nothin' of this.' + +"He had scarcely spoken, when the parson, who was an active man, cut a +caper a yard high, an' before you could bless yourself, the three +clargy were hard at work dancin', as if for a wager. Begad, it would +be unpossible for me to tell you the state the whole meetin' was in +when they seen this. Some were hoarse wid laughin'; some turned up +their eyes wid wondher; many thought them mad, an' others thought they +had turned up their little fingers a thrifle too often. + +"'Be goxty, it's a burnin' shame,' said one, 'to see three black-mouth +clargy in sich a state at this early hour!' 'Thundher an' ounze, +what's over them at all?' says others; 'why, one would think they're +bewitched. Holy Moses, look at the caper the Methodis cuts! An' as for +the Recther, who would think he could handle his feet at such a rate! +Be this an' be that, he cuts the buckle, and does the threblin' step +aiquil to Paddy Horaghan, the dancin'-masther himself? An' see! Bad +cess to the morsel of the parson that's not hard at _Peace upon a +trancher_, an' it of a Sunday too! Whirroo, gintlemen, the fun's in +yez afther all--whish! more power to yez!' + +"The sorra's own fun they had, an' no wondher; but judge of what they +felt, when all at once they saw ould Jack Rafferty himself bouncin' in +among them, and footing it away like the best o' them. Bedad, no play +could come up to it, an' nothin' could be heard but laughin', shouts of +encouragement, and clappin' of hands like mad. Now the minute Jack +Rafferty left the chair where he had been carvin' the pudden, ould Harry +Connolly comes over and claps himself down in his place, in ordher to +send it round, of coorse; an' he was scarcely sated, when who should +make his appearance but Barney Hartigan, the piper. Barney, by the way, +had been sent for early in the day, but bein' from home when the message +for him went, he couldn't come any sooner. + +"'Begorra,' said Barney, 'you're airly at the work, gintlemen! but +what does this mane? But, divle may care, yez shan't want the music +while there's a blast in the pipes, anyhow!' So sayin' he gave them +_Jig Polthogue_, an' after that _Kiss my Lady_, in his best style. + +"In the manetime the fun went on thick an' threefold, for it must be +remimbered that Harry, the ould knave, was at the pudden; an' maybe he +didn't sarve it about in double quick time too. The first he helped +was the bride, and, before you could say chopstick, she was at it hard +an' fast before the Methodist praicher, who gave a jolly spring before +her that threw them into convulsions. Harry liked this, and made up +his mind soon to find partners for the rest; so he accordianly sent +the pudden about like lightnin'; an' to make a long story short, +barrin' the piper an' himself, there wasn't a pair o' heels in the +house but was as busy at the dancin' as if their lives depinded on it. + +"'Barney,' says Harry, 'just taste a morsel o' this pudden; divle the +such a bully of a pudden ever you ett; here, your sowl! thry a snig of +it--it's beautiful.' + +"'To be sure I will,' says Barney. 'I'm not the boy to refuse a good +thing; but, Harry, be quick, for you know my hands is engaged, an' it +would be a thousand pities not to keep them in music, an' they so well +inclined. Thank you, Harry; begad that is a famous pudden; but blood +an' turnips, what's this for?' + +"The word was scarcely out of his mouth when he bounced up, pipes an' +all, an' dashed into the middle of the party. 'Hurroo, your sowls, let +us make a night of it! The Ballyboulteen boys for ever! Go it, your +reverence--turn your partner--heel an' toe, ministher. Good! Well done +again--Whish! Hurroo! Here's for Ballyboulteen, an' the sky over it!' + +"Bad luck to the sich a set ever was seen together in this world, or +will again, I suppose. The worst, however, wasn't come yet, for jist +as they were in the very heat an' fury of the dance, what do you think +comes hoppin' in among them but another pudden, as nimble an' merry as +the first! That was enough; they all had heard of--the ministhers +among the rest--an' most o' them had seen the other pudden, and knew +that there must be a fairy in it, sure enough. Well, as I said, in it +comes to the thick o' them; but the very appearance of it was enough. +Off the three clargy danced, and off the whole weddiners danced afther +them, every one makin' the best of their way home; but not a sowl of +them able to break out of the step, if they were to be hanged for it. +Throth it wouldn't lave a laugh in you to see the parson dancin' down +the road on his way home, and the ministher and Methodist praicher +cuttin' the buckle as they went along in the opposite direction. To +make short work of it, they all danced home at last, wid scarce a puff +of wind in them; the bride and bridegroom danced away to bed; an' now, +boys, come an' let us dance the _Horo Lheig_ in the barn 'idout. But +you see, boys, before we go, an' in ordher that I may make everything +plain, I had as good tell you that Harry, in crossing the bridge of +Ballyboulteen, a couple of miles below Squire Bragshaw's demense-wall, +saw the pudden floatin' down the river--the truth is he was waitin' +for it; but be this as it may, he took it out, for the wather had made +it as clane as a new pin, and tuckin' it up in the tail of his big +coat, contrived, as you all guess, I suppose, to change it while Paddy +Scanlan an' the wife were examinin' the sky; an' for the other, he +contrived to bewitch it in the same manner, by gettin' a fairy to go +into it, for, indeed, it was purty well known that the same Harry was +hand an' glove wid the _good people_. Others will tell you that it was +half a pound of quicksilver he put into it; but that doesn't stand to +raison. At any rate, boys, I have tould you the adventures of the Mad +Pudden of Ballyboulteen; but I don't wish to tell you many other +things about it that happened--_for fraid I'd tell a lie_."[41] + +[Footnote 38: Perhaps from Irish _dilse_--_i.e._, love.] + +[Footnote 39: Put it under fairy influence.] + +[Footnote 40: Irish, _cóta mór_.] + +[Footnote 41: Some will insist that a fairy-man or fairy-woman has the +power to bewitch a pudding by putting a fairy into it; whilst others +maintain that a competent portion of quicksilver will make it dance +over half the parish.] + + + + +T'YEER-NA-N-OGE. + + + [There is a country called Tír-na-n-Og, which means the Country of + the Young, for age and death have not found it; neither tears nor + loud laughter have gone near it. The shadiest boskage covers it + perpetually. One man has gone there and returned. The bard, Oisen, + who wandered away on a white horse, moving on the surface of the + foam with his fairy Niamh, lived there three hundred years, and + then returned looking for his comrades. The moment his foot touched + the earth his three hundred years fell on him, and he was bowed + double, and his beard swept the ground. He described his sojourn in + the Land of Youth to Patrick before he died. Since then many have + seen it in many places; some in the depths of lakes, and have heard + rising therefrom a vague sound of bells; more have seen it far off + on the horizon, as they peered out from the western cliffs. Not + three years ago a fisherman imagined that he saw it. It never + appears unless to announce some national trouble. + + There are many kindred beliefs. A Dutch pilot, settled in Dublin, + told M. De La Boullage Le Cong, who travelled in Ireland in 1614, + that round the poles were many islands; some hard to be + approached because of the witches who inhabit them and destroy by + storms those who seek to land. He had once, off the coast of + Greenland, in sixty-one degrees of latitude, seen and approached + such an island only to see it vanish. Sailing in an opposite + direction, they met with the same island, and sailing near, were + almost destroyed by a furious tempest. + + According to many stories, Tír-na-n-Og is the favourite dwelling + of the fairies. Some say it is triple--the island of the living, + the island of victories, and an underwater land.] + + + + +THE LEGEND OF O'DONOGHUE.[42] + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +In an age so distant that the precise period is unknown, a chieftain +named O'Donoghue ruled over the country which surrounds the romantic +Lough Lean, now called the lake of Killarney. Wisdom, beneficence, and +justice distinguished his reign, and the prosperity and happiness of +his subjects were their natural results. He is said to have been as +renowned for his warlike exploits as for his pacific virtues; and as a +proof that his domestic administration was not the less rigorous +because it was mild, a rocky island is pointed out to strangers, +called "O'Donoghue's Prison," in which this prince once confined his +own son for some act of disorder and disobedience. + +His end--for it cannot correctly be called his death--was singular and +mysterious. At one of those splendid feasts for which his court was +celebrated, surrounded by the most distinguished of his subjects, he +was engaged in a prophetic relation of the events which were to happen +in ages yet to come. His auditors listened, now wrapt in wonder, now +fired with indignation, burning with shame, or melted into sorrow, as +he faithfully detailed the heroism, the injuries, the crimes, and the +miseries of their descendants. In the midst of his predictions he rose +slowly from his seat, advanced with a solemn, measured, and majestic +tread to the shore of the lake, and walked forward composedly upon its +unyielding surface. When he had nearly reached the centre he paused +for a moment, then, turning slowly round, looked toward his friends, +and waving his arms to them with the cheerful air of one taking a +short farewell, disappeared from their view. + +The memory of the good O'Donoghue has been cherished by successive +generations with affectionate reverence; and it is believed that at +sunrise, on every May-day morning, the anniversary of his departure, +he revisits his ancient domains: a favoured few only are in general +permitted to see him, and this distinction is always an omen of good +fortune to the beholders; when it is granted to many it is a sure +token of an abundant harvest,--a blessing, the want of which during +this prince's reign was never felt by his people. + +Some years have elapsed since the last appearance of O'Donoghue. The +April of that year had been remarkably wild and stormy; but on +May-morning the fury of the elements had altogether subsided. The air +was hushed and still; and the sky, which was reflected in the serene +lake, resembled a beautiful but deceitful countenance, whose smiles, +after the most tempestuous emotions, tempt the stranger to believe +that it belongs to a soul which no passion has ever ruffled. + +The first beams of the rising sun were just gilding the lofty summit +of Glenaa, when the waters near the eastern shore of the lake became +suddenly and violently agitated, though all the rest of its surface +lay smooth and still as a tomb of polished marble, the next morning a +foaming wave darted forward, and, like a proud high-crested war-horse, +exulting in his strength, rushed across the lake toward Toomies +mountain. Behind this wave appeared a stately warrior fully armed, +mounted upon a milk-white steed; his snowy plume waved gracefully from +a helmet of polished steel, and at his back fluttered a light blue +scarf. The horse, apparently exulting in his noble burden, sprung +after the wave along the water, which bore him up like firm earth, +while showers of spray that glittered brightly in the morning sun were +dashed up at every bound. + +The warrior was O'Donoghue; he was followed by numberless youths and +maidens, who moved lightly and unconstrained over the watery plain, as +the moonlight fairies glide through the fields of air; they were +linked together by garlands of delicious spring flowers, and they +timed their movements to strains of enchanting melody. When O'Donoghue +had nearly reached the western side of the lake, he suddenly turned +his steed, and directed his course along the wood-fringed shore of +Glenaa, preceded by the huge wave that curled and foamed up as high as +the horse's neck, whose fiery nostrils snorted above it. The long +train of attendants followed with playful deviations the track of +their leader, and moved on with unabated fleetness to their celestial +music, till gradually, as they entered the narrow strait between +Glenaa and Dinis, they became involved in the mists which still +partially floated over the lakes, and faded from the view of the +wondering beholders: but the sound of their music still fell upon the +ear, and echo, catching up the harmonious strains, fondly repeated and +prolonged them in soft and softer tones, till the last faint +repetition died away, and the hearers awoke as from a dream of bliss. + +[Footnote 42: _Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland._] + + + + +RENT-DAY. + + +"Oh, ullagone! ullagone! this is a wide world, but what will we do in +it, or where will we go?" muttered Bill Doody, as he sat on a rock by +the Lake of Killarney. "What will we do? To-morrow's rent-day, and Tim +the Driver swears if we don't pay our rent, he'll cant every +_ha'perth_ we have; and then, sure enough, there's Judy and myself, +and the poor _grawls_,[43] will be turned out to starve on the +high-road, for the never a halfpenny of rent have I!--Oh hone, that +ever I should live to see this day!" + +Thus did Bill Doody bemoan his hard fate, pouring his sorrows to the +reckless waves of the most beautiful of lakes, which seemed to mock +his misery as they rejoiced beneath the cloudless sky of a May +morning. That lake, glittering in sunshine, sprinkled with fairy isles +of rock and verdure, and bounded by giant hills of ever-varying hues, +might, with its magic beauty, charm all sadness but despair; for alas, + + "How ill the scene that offers rest + And heart that cannot rest agree!" + +Yet Bill Doody was not so desolate as he supposed; there was one +listening to him he little thought of, and help was at hand from a +quarter he could not have expected. + +"What's the matter with you, my poor man?" said a tall, portly-looking +gentleman, at the same time stepping out of a furze-brake. Now Bill +was seated on a rock that commanded the view of a large field. Nothing +in the field could be concealed from him, except this furze-brake, +which grew in a hollow near the margin of the lake. He was, therefore, +not a little surprised at the gentleman's sudden appearance, and began +to question whether the personage before him belonged to this world or +not. He, however, soon mustered courage sufficient to tell him how his +crops had failed, how some bad member had charmed away his butter, and +how Tim the Driver threatened to turn him out of the farm if he didn't +pay up every penny of the rent by twelve o'clock next day. + +"A sad story, indeed," said the stranger; "but surely, if you +represented the case to your landlord's agent, he won't have the heart +to turn you out." + +"Heart, your honour; where would an agent get a heart!" exclaimed +Bill. "I see your honour does not know him; besides, he has an eye on +the farm this long time for a fosterer of his own; so I expect no +mercy at all at all, only to be turned out." + +"Take this, my poor fellow, take this," said the stranger, pouring a +purse full of gold into Bill's old hat, which in his grief he had +flung on the ground. "Pay the fellow your rent, but I'll take care it +shall do him no good. I remember the time when things went otherwise +in this country, when I would have hung up such a fellow in the +twinkling of an eye!" + +These words were lost upon Bill, who was insensible to everything but +the sight of the gold, and before he could unfix his gaze, and lift up +his head to pour out his hundred thousand blessings, the stranger was +gone. The bewildered peasant looked around in search of his +benefactor, and at last he thought he saw him riding on a white horse +a long way off on the lake. + +"O'Donoghue, O'Donoghue!" shouted Bill; "the good, the blessed +O'Donoghue!" and he ran capering like a madman to show Judy the gold, +and to rejoice her heart with the prospect of wealth and happiness. + +The next day Bill proceeded to the agent's; not sneakingly, with his +hat in his hand, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his knees bending +under him; but bold and upright, like a man conscious of his +independence. + +"Why don't you take off your hat, fellow? don't you know you are +speaking to a magistrate?" said the agent. + +"I know I'm not speaking to the king, sir," said Bill; "and I never +takes off my hat but to them I can respect and love. The Eye that sees +all knows I've no right either to respect or love an agent!" + +"You scoundrel!" retorted the man in office, biting his lips with rage +at such an unusual and unexpected opposition, "I'll teach you how to +be insolent again; I have the power, remember." + +"To the cost of the country, I know you have," said Bill, who still +remained with his head as firmly covered as if he was the Lord +Kingsale himself. + +"But, come," said the magistrate; "have you got the money for me? this +is rent-day. If there's one penny of it wanting, or the running gale +that's due, prepare to turn out before night, for you shall not remain +another hour in possession. + +"There is your rent," said Bill, with an unmoved expression of tone +and countenance; "you'd better count it, and give me a receipt in full +for the running gale and all." + +The agent gave a look of amazement at the gold; for it was gold--real +guineas! and not bits of dirty ragged small notes, that are only fit +to light one's pipe with. However willing the agent may have been to +ruin, as he thought, the unfortunate tenant, he took up the gold, and +handed the receipt to Bill, who strutted off with it as proud as a +cat of her whiskers. + +The agent going to his desk shortly after, was confounded at beholding +a heap of gingerbread cakes instead of the money he had deposited +there. He raved and swore, but all to no purpose; the gold had become +gingerbread cakes, just marked like the guineas, with the king's head; +and Bill had the receipt in his pocket; so he saw there was no use in +saying anything about the affair, as he would only get laughed at for +his pains. + +From that hour Bill Doody grew rich; all his undertakings prospered; +and he often blesses the day that he met with O'Donoghue, the great +prince that lives down under the lake of Killarney. + +[Footnote 43: Children.] + + + + +LOUGHLEAGH (LAKE OF HEALING).[44] + + +"Do you see that bit of a lake," said my companion, turning his eyes +towards the acclivity that overhung Loughleagh. "Troth, and as little +as you think of it, and as ugly as it looks with its weeds and its +flags, it is the most famous one in all Ireland. Young and ould, rich +and poor, far and near, have come to that lake to get cured of all +kinds of scurvy and sores. The Lord keep us our limbs whole and sound, +for it's a sorrowful thing not to have the use o' them. 'Twas but last +week we had a great grand Frenchman here; and, though he came upon +crutches, faith he went home sound as a bell; and well he paid Billy +Reily for curing him." + +"And, pray, how did Billy Reily cure him?" + +"Oh, well enough. He took his long pole, dipped it down to the bottom +of the lake, and brought up on the top of it as much plaster as would +do for a thousand sores!" + +"What kind of plaster?" + +"What kind of plaster? why, black plaster to be sure; for isn't the +bottom of the lake filled with a kind of black mud which cures all the +world?" + +"Then it ought to be a famous lake indeed." + +"Famous, and so it is," replied my companion, "but it isn't for its +cures neather that it is famous; for, sure, doesn't all the world know +there is a fine beautiful city at the bottom of it, where the good +people live just like Christians. Troth, it is the truth I tell you; +for _Shemus-a-sneidh_ saw it all when he followed his dun cow that was +stolen." + +"Who stole her?" + +"I'll tell you all about it:--Shemus was a poor gossoon, who lived on +the brow of the hill, in a cabin with his ould mother. They lived by +hook and by crook, one way and another, in the best way they could. +They had a bit of ground that gave 'em the preaty, and a little dun +cow that gave 'em the drop o' milk; and, considering how times go, +they weren't badly off, for Shemus was a handy gossoon to boot; and, +while minden the cow, cut heath and made brooms, which his mother +sould on a market-day, and brought home the bit o' tobaccy, the grain +of salt, and other nic-nackenes, which a poor body can't well do +widout. Once upon a time, however, Shemus went farther than usual up +the mountain, looken for long heath, for town's-people don't like to +stoop, and so like long handles to their brooms. The little dun cow +was a'most as cunning as a Christian sinner, and followed Shemus like +a lap-dog everywhere he'd go, so that she required little or no +herden. On this day she found nice picken on a round spot as green as +a leek; and, as poor Shemus was weary, as a body would be on a fine +summer's day, he lay down on the grass to rest himself, just as we're +resten ourselves on the cairn here. Begad, he hadn't long lain there, +sure enough, when, what should he see but whole loads of ganconers[45] +dancing about the place. Some o' them were hurlen, some kicking a +football, and others leaping a kick-step-and-a-lep. They were so +soople and so active that Shemus was highly delighted with the sport, +and a little tanned-skinned chap in a red cap pleased him better than +any o' them, bekase he used to tumble the other fellows like +mushrooms. At one time he had kept the ball up for as good as +half-an-hour, when Shemus cried out, 'Well done, my hurler!' The word +wasn't well out of his mouth when whap went the ball on his eye, and +flash went the fire. Poor Shemus thought he was blind, and roared out, +'Mille murdher!'[46] but the only thing he heard was a loud laugh. +'Cross o' Christ about us,' says he to himself, 'what is this for?' +and afther rubbing his eyes they came to a little, and he could see +the sun and the sky, and, by-and-by, he could see everything but his +cow and the mischievous ganconers. They were gone to their rath or +mote; but where was the little dun cow? He looked, and he looked, and +he might have looked from that day to this, bekase she wasn't to be +found, and good reason why--the ganconers took her away with 'em. + +"Shemus-a-sneidh, however, didn't think so, but ran home to his mother. + +"'Where is the cow, Shemus?' axed the ould woman. + +"'Och, musha, bad luck to her,' said Shemus, 'I donna where she is!' + +"'Is that an answer, you big blaggard, for the likes o' you to give +your poor ould mother?' said she. + +"'Och, musha,' said Shemus, I don't kick up saich a _bollhous_ about +nothing. The ould cow is safe enough, I'll be bail, some place or +other, though I could find her if I put my eyes upon _kippeens_,[47] +and, speaking of eyes, faith, I had very good luck o' my side, or I +had naver a one to look after her.' + +"'Why, what happened your eyes, agrah?' axed the ould woman. + +"'Oh! didn't the ganconers--the Lord save us from all hurt and +harm!--drive their hurlen ball into them both! and sure I was stone +blind for an hour.' + +"'And may be,' said the mother, 'the good people took our cow?' + +"'No, nor the devil a one of them,' said Shemus, 'for, by the powers, +that same cow is as knowen as a lawyer, and wouldn't be such a fool as +to go with the ganconers while she could get such grass as I found for +her to-day.'" + +In this way, continued my informant, they talked about the cow all +that night, and next mornen both o' them set off to look for her. +After searching every place, high and low, what should Shemus see +sticking out of a bog-hole but something very like the horns of his +little beast! + +"Oh, mother, mother," said he, "I've found her!" + +"Where, alanna?" axed the ould woman. + +"In the bog-hole, mother," answered Shemus. + +At this the poor ould creathure set up such a _pullallue_ that she +brought the seven parishes about her; and the neighbours soon pulled +the cow out of the bog-hole. You'd swear it was the same, and yet it +wasn't, as you shall hear by-and-by. + +Shemus and his mother brought the dead beast home with them; and, after +skinnen her, hung the meat up in the chimney. The loss of the drop o' +milk was a sorrowful thing, and though they had a good deal of meat, +that couldn't last always; besides, the whole parish _faughed_ upon them +for eating the flesh of a beast that died without bleeden. But the +pretty thing was, they couldn't eat the meat after all, for when it was +boiled it was as tough as carrion, and as black as a turf. You might as +well think of sinking your teeth in an oak plank as into a piece of it, +and then you'd want to sit a great piece from the wall for fear of +knocking your head against it when pulling it through your teeth. At +last and at long run they were forced to throw it to the dogs, but the +dogs wouldn't smell to it, and so it was thrown into the ditch, where it +rotted. This misfortune cost poor Shemus many a salt tear, for he was +now obliged to work twice as hard as before, and be out cutten heath on +the mountain late and early. One day he was passing by this cairn with a +load of brooms on his back, when what should he see but the little dun +cow and two red-headed fellows herding her. + +"That's my mother's cow," said Shemus-a-sneidh. + +"No, it is not," said one of the chaps. + +"But I say it is," said Shemus, throwing the brooms on the ground, and +seizing the cow by the horns. At that the red fellows drove her as +fast as they could to this steep place, and with one leap she bounced +over, with Shemus stuck fast to her horns. They made only one splash +in the lough, when the waters closed over 'em, and they sunk to the +bottom. Just as Shemus-a-sneidh thought that all was over with him, he +found himself before a most elegant palace built with jewels, and all +manner of fine stones. Though his eyes were dazzled with the splendour +of the place, faith he had gomsh[48] enough not to let go his holt, +but in spite of all they could do, he held his little cow by the +horns. He was axed into the palace, but wouldn't go. + +The hubbub at last grew so great that the door flew open, and out +walked a hundred ladies and gentlemen, as fine as any in the land. + +"What does this boy want?" axed one o' them, who seemed to be the +masther. + +"I want my mother's cow," said Shemus. + +"That's not your mother's cow," said the gentleman. + +"Bethershin!"[49] cried Shemus-a-sneidh; "don't I know her as well as +I know my right hand?" + +"Where did you lose her?" axed the gentleman. And so Shemus up and +tould him all about it: how he was on the mountain--how he saw the +good people hurlen--how the ball was knocked in his eye, and his cow +was lost. + +"I believe you are right," said the gentleman, pulling out his purse, +"and here is the price of twenty cows for you." + +"No, no," said Shemus, "you'll not catch ould birds wid chaff. I'll +have my cow and nothen else." + +"You're a funny fellow," said the gentleman; "stop here and live in a +palace." + +"I'd rather live with my mother." + +"Foolish boy!" said the gentleman; "stop here and live in a palace." + +"I'd rather live in my mother's cabin." + +"Here you can walk through gardens loaded with fruit and flowers." + +"I'd rather," said Shemus, "be cutting heath on the mountain." + +"Here you can eat and drink of the best." + +"Since I've got my cow, I can have milk once more with the praties." + +"Oh!" cried the ladies, gathering round him, "sure you wouldn't take +away the cow that gives us milk for our tea?" + +"Oh!" said Shemus, "my mother wants milk as bad as anyone, and she +must have it; so there is no use in your palaver--I must have my cow." + +At this they all gathered about him and offered him bushels of gould, +but he wouldn't have anything but his cow. Seeing him as obstinate as +a mule, they began to thump and beat him; but still he held fast by +the horns, till at length a great blast of wind blew him out of the +place, and in a moment he found himself and the cow standing on the +side of the lake, the water of which looked as if it hadn't been +disturbed since Adam was a boy--and that's a long time since. + +Well, Shemus-a-sneidh drove home his cow, and right glad his mother +was to see her; but the moment she said "God bless the beast," she +sunk down like the _breesha_[50] of a turf rick. That was the end of +Shemus-a-sneidh's dun cow. + +"And, sure," continued my companion, standing up, "it is now time for +me to look after my brown cow, and God send the ganconers haven't +taken her!" + +Of this I assured him there could be no fear; and so we parted. + +[Footnote 44: _Dublin and London Magazine, 1825._] + +[Footnote 45: Ir. _gean-canach_--_i.e._, love-talker, a kind of fairy +appearing in lonesome valleys, a dudeen (tobacco-pipe) in his mouth, +making love to milk-maids, etc.] + +[Footnote 46: A thousand murders.] + +[Footnote 47: Ir. _cipin_--_i.e._, a stick, a twig.] [Footnote 48: +Otherwise "gumshun--" _i.e._, sense, cuteness.] + +[Footnote 49: Ir. _B'éidir sin_--_i.e._, "that is possible."] + +[Footnote 50: Ir. _briscadh_--_i.e._, breaking.] + + + + +HY-BRASAIL--THE ISLE OF THE BLEST. + +BY GERALD GRIFFIN. + + + On the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell, + A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell; + Men thought it a region of sunshine and rest, + And they called it _Hy-Brasail_, the isle of the blest. + From year unto year on the ocean's blue rim, + The beautiful spectre showed lovely and dim; + The golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay, + And it looked like an Eden, away, far away! + + A peasant who heard of the wonderful tale, + In the breeze of the Orient loosened his sail; + From Ara, the holy, he turned to the west, + For though Ara was holy, _Hy-Brasail_ was blest. + He heard not the voices that called from the shore-- + He heard not the rising wind's menacing roar; + Home, kindred, and safety, he left on that day, + And he sped to _Hy-Brasail_, away, far away! + + Morn rose on the deep, and that shadowy isle, + O'er the faint rim of distance, reflected its smile; + Noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore + Seemed lovelily distant, and faint as before; + Lone evening came down on the wanderer's track, + And to Ara again he looked timidly back; + Oh! far on the verge of the ocean it lay, + Yet the isle of the blest was away, far away! + + Rash dreamer, return! O, ye winds of the main, + Bear him back to his own peaceful Ara again. + Rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss, + To barter thy calm life of labour and peace. + The warning of reason was spoken in vain; + He never revisited Ara again! + Night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray, + And he died on the waters, away, far away! + + + + +THE PHANTOM ISLE. + +GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS.[51] + + +Among the other islands is one newly formed, which they call the +Phantom Isle, which had its origin in this manner. One calm day a +large mass of earth rose to the surface of the sea, where no land had +ever been seen before, to the great amazement of islanders who +observed it. Some of them said that it was a whale, or other immense +sea-monster; others, remarking that it continued motionless, said, +"No; it is land." In order, therefore, to reduce their doubts to +certainty, some picked young men of the island determined to approach +nearer the spot in a boat. When, however, they came so near to it that +they thought they should go on shore, the island sank in the water and +entirely vanished from sight. The next day it re-appeared, and again +mocked the same youths with the like delusion. At length, on their +rowing towards it on the third day, they followed the advice of an +older man, and let fly an arrow, barbed with red-hot steel, against +the island; and then landing, found it stationary and habitable. + +This adds one to the many proofs that fire is the greatest of enemies +to every sort of phantom; in so much that those who have seen +apparitions, fall into a swoon as soon as they are sensible of the +brightness of fire. For fire, both from its position and nature, is +the noblest of the elements, being a witness of the secrets of the +heavens. + +The sky is fiery; the planets are fiery; the bush burnt with fire, but +was not consumed; the Holy Ghost sat upon the apostles in tongues of +fire. + +[Footnote 51: "Giraldus Cambrensis" was born in 1146, and wrote a +celebrated account of Ireland.] + + + + +SAINTS, PRIESTS. + + +Everywhere in Ireland are the holy wells. People as they pray by them +make little piles of stones, that will be counted at the last day and +the prayers reckoned up. Sometimes they tell stories. These following +are their stories. They deal with the old times, whereof King Alfred +of Northumberland wrote-- + + "I found in Innisfail the fair, + In Ireland, while in exile there, + Women of worth, both grave and gay men, + Many clericks and many laymen. + + Gold and silver I found, and money, + Plenty of wheat, and plenty of honey; + I found God's people rich in pity, + Found many a feast, and many a city." + +There are no martyrs in the stories. That ancient chronicler Giraldus +taunted the Archbishop of Cashel because no one in Ireland had +received the crown of martyrdom. "Our people may be barbarous," the +prelate answered, "but they have never lifted their hands against +God's saints; but now that a people have come amongst us who know how +to make them (it was just after the English invasion), we shall have +martyrs plentifully." + +The bodies of saints are fastidious things. At a place called +Four-mile-Water, in Wexford, there is an old graveyard full of saints. +Once it was on the other side of the river, but they buried a rogue +there, and the whole graveyard moved across in the night, leaving the +rogue-corpse in solitude. It would have been easier to move merely the +rogue-corpse, but they were saints, and had to do things in style. + + + + +THE PRIEST'S SOUL.[52] + +LADY WILDE. + + +In former days there were great schools in Ireland, where every sort of +learning was taught to the people, and even the poorest had more +knowledge at that time than many a gentleman has now. But as to the +priests, their learning was above all, so that the fame of Ireland went +over the whole world, and many kings from foreign lands used to send +their sons all the way to Ireland to be brought up in the Irish schools. + +Now, at this time there was a little boy learning at one of them who +was a wonder to everyone for his cleverness. His parents were only +labouring people, and of course poor; but young as he was, and as poor +as he was, no king's or lord's son could come up to him in learning. +Even the masters were put to shame; for when they were trying to teach +him he would tell them something they never heard of before, and show +them their ignorance. One of his great triumphs was in argument; and +he would go on till he proved to you that black was white, and then +when you gave in, for no one could beat him in talk, he would turn +round and show you that white was black, or maybe that there was no +colour at all in the world. When he grew up his poor father and mother +were so proud of him that they resolved to make him a priest, which +they did at last, though they nearly starved themselves to get the +money. Well, such another learned man was not in Ireland, and he was +as great in argument as ever, so that no one could stand before him. +Even the bishops tried to talk to him, but he showed them at once they +knew nothing at all. + +Now, there were no schoolmasters in those times, but it was the +priests taught the people; and as this man was the cleverest in +Ireland, all the foreign kings sent their sons to him, as long as he +had house-room to give them. So he grew very proud, and began to +forget how low he had been, and worst of all, even to forget God, who +had made him what he was. And the pride of arguing got hold of him, so +that from one thing to another he went on to prove that there was no +Purgatory, and then no Hell, and then no Heaven, and then no God; and +at last that men had no souls, but were no more than a dog or a cow, +and when they died there was an end of them. "Whoever saw a soul?" he +would say. "If you can show me one, I will believe." No one could make +any answer to this; and at last they all came to believe that as there +was no other world, everyone might do what they liked in this; the +priest setting the example, for he took a beautiful young girl to +wife. But as no priest or bishop in the whole land could be got to +marry them, he was obliged to read the service over for himself. It +was a great scandal, yet no one dared to say a word, for all the +king's sons were on his side, and would have slaughtered anyone who +tried to prevent his wicked goings-on. Poor boys; they all believed in +him, and thought every word he said was the truth. In this way his +notions began to spread about, and the whole world was going to the +bad, when one night an angel came down from Heaven, and told the +priest he had but twenty-four hours to live. He began to tremble, and +asked for a little more time. + +But the angel was stiff, and told him that could not be. + +"What do you want time for, you sinner?" he asked. + +"Oh, sir, have pity on my poor soul!" urged the priest. + +"Oh, no! You have a soul, then," said the angel. "Pray, how did you +find that out?" + +"It has been fluttering in me ever since you appeared," answered the +priest. "What a fool I was not to think of it before." + +"A fool, indeed," said the angel. "What good was all your learning, +when it could not tell you that you had a soul?" + +"Ah, my lord," said the priest, "If I am to die, tell me how soon I +may be in Heaven?" + +"Never," replied the angel. "You denied there was a Heaven." + +"Then, my lord, may I go to Purgatory?" + +"You denied Purgatory also; you must go straight to Hell," said the +angel. + +"But, my lord, I denied Hell also," answered the priest, "so you can't +send me there either." + +The angel was a little puzzled. + +"Well," said he, "I'll tell you what I can do for you. You may either +live now on earth for a hundred years, enjoying every pleasure, and +then be cast into Hell for ever; or you may die in twenty-four hours +in the most horrible torments, and pass through Purgatory, there to +remain till the Day of Judgment, if only you can find some one person +that believes, and through his belief mercy will be vouchsafed to you, +and your soul will be saved." + +The priest did not take five minutes to make up his mind. + +"I will have death in the twenty-four hours," he said, "so that my +soul may be saved at last." + +On this the angel gave him directions as to what he was to do, and +left him. + +Then immediately the priest entered the large room where all the +scholars and the kings' sons were seated, and called out to them-- + +"Now, tell me the truth, and let none fear to contradict me; tell me +what is your belief--have men souls?" + +"Master," they answered, "once we believed that men had souls; but +thanks to your teaching, we believe so no longer. There is no Hell, +and no Heaven, and no God. This is our belief, for it is thus you +taught us." + +Then the priest grew pale with fear, and cried out--"Listen! I taught +you a lie. There is a God, and man has an immortal soul. I believe now +all I denied before." + +But the shouts of laughter that rose up drowned the priest's voice, +for they thought he was only trying them for argument. + +"Prove it, master," they cried. "Prove it. Who has ever seen God? Who +has ever seen the soul?" + +And the room was stirred with their laughter. + +The priest stood up to answer them, but no word could he utter. All +his eloquence, all his powers of argument had gone from him; and he +could do nothing but wring his hands and cry out, "There is a God! +there is a God! Lord have mercy on my soul!" + +And they all began to mock him! and repeat his own words that he had +taught them-- + +"Show him to us; show us your God." And he fled from them, groaning +with agony, for he saw that none believed; and how, then, could his +soul be saved? + +But he thought next of his wife. "She will believe," he said to +himself; "women never give up God." + +And he went to her; but she told him that she believed only what he +taught her, and that a good wife should believe in her husband first +and before and above all things in Heaven or earth. + +Then despair came on him, and he rushed from the house, and began to +ask every one he met if they believed. But the same answer came from +one and all--"We believe only what you have taught us," for his +doctrine had spread far and wide through the country. + +Then he grew half mad with fear, for the hours were passing, and he +flung himself down on the ground in a lonesome spot, and wept and +groaned in terror, for the time was coming fast when he must die. + +Just then a little child came by. "God save you kindly," said the +child to him. + +The priest started up. + +"Do you believe in God?" he asked. + +"I have come from a far country to learn about him," said the child. +"Will your honour direct me to the best school they have in these +parts?" + +"The best school and the best teacher is close by," said the priest, +and he named himself. + +"Oh, not to that man," answered the child, "for I am told he denies +God, and Heaven, and Hell, and even that man has a soul, because he +cannot see it; but I would soon put him down." + +The priest looked at him earnestly. "How?" he inquired. + +"Why," said the child, "I would ask him if he believed he had life to +show me his life." + +"But he could not do that, my child," said the priest. "Life cannot be +seen; we have it, but it is invisible." + +"Then if we have life, though we cannot see it, we may also have a +soul, though it is invisible," answered the child. + +When the priest heard him speak these words, he fell down on his knees +before him, weeping for joy, for now he knew his soul was safe; he had +met one at last that believed. And he told the child his whole +story--all his wickedness, and pride, and blasphemy against the great +God; and how the angel had come to him, and told him of the only way +in which he could be saved, through the faith and prayers of someone +that believed. + +"Now, then," he said to the child, "take this penknife and strike it +into my breast, and go on stabbing the flesh until you see the +paleness of death on my face. Then watch--for a living thing will soar +up from my body as I die, and you will then know that my soul has +ascended to the presence of God. And when you see this thing, make +haste and run to my school, and call on all my scholars to come and +see that the soul of their master has left the body, and that all he +taught them was a lie, for that there is a God who punishes sin, and a +Heaven, and a Hell, and that man has an immortal soul destined for +eternal happiness or misery." + +"I will pray," said the child, "to have courage to do this work." + +And he kneeled down and prayed. Then when he rose up he took the +penknife and struck it into the priest's heart, and struck and struck +again till all the flesh was lacerated; but still the priest lived, +though the agony was horrible, for he could not die until the +twenty-four hours had expired. + +At last the agony seemed to cease, and the stillness of death settled +on his face. Then the child, who was watching, saw a beautiful living +creature, with four snow-white wings, mount from the dead man's body +into the air and go fluttering round his head. + +So he ran to bring the scholars; and when they saw it, they all knew +it was the soul of their master; and they watched with wonder and awe +until it passed from sight into the clouds. + +And this was the first butterfly that was ever seen in Ireland; and +now all men know that the butterflies are the souls of the dead, +waiting for the moment when they may enter Purgatory, and so pass +through torture to purification and peace. + +But the schools of Ireland were quite deserted after that time, for +people said, What is the use of going so far to learn, when the wisest +man in all Ireland did not know if he had a soul till he was near +losing it, and was only saved at last through the simple belief of a +little child. + +[Footnote 52: _Ancient Legends of Ireland._] + + + + +THE PRIEST OF COLOONY. + +W. B. YEATS. + + + Good Father John O'Hart + In penal days rode out + To a _shoneen_[53] in his freelands, + With his snipe marsh and his trout. + + In trust took he John's lands, + --_Sleiveens_[54] were all his race-- + And he gave them as dowers to his daughters, + And they married beyond their place. + + But Father John went up, + And Father John went down; + And he wore small holes in his shoes, + And he wore large holes in his gown. + + All loved him, only the _shoneen_, + Whom the devils have by the hair, + From their wives and their cats and their children, + To the birds in the white of the air. + + The birds, for he opened their cages, + As he went up and down; + And he said with a smile, "Have peace, now," + And went his way with a frown. + + But if when anyone died, + Came keeners hoarser than rooks, + He bade them give over their keening, + For he was a man of books. + + And these were the works of John, + When weeping score by score, + People came into Coloony, + For he'd died at ninety-four. + + There was no human keening; + The birds from Knocknarea, + And the world round Knocknashee, + Came keening in that day,-- + + Keening from Innismurry, + Nor stayed for bit or sup; + This way were all reproved + Who dig old customs up. + + [Coloony is a few miles south of the town of Sligo. Father O'Hart + lived there in the last century, and was greatly beloved. These + lines accurately record the tradition. No one who has held the + stolen land has prospered. It has changed owners many times.] + +[Footnote 53: _Shoneen_--_i.e._, upstart.] + +[Footnote 54: _Sleiveen_--_i.e._, mean fellow.] + + + + +THE STORY OF THE LITTLE BIRD.[55] + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +Many years ago there was a very religious and holy man, one of the +monks of a convent, and he was one day kneeling at his prayers in the +garden of his monastery, when he heard a little bird singing in one of +the rose-trees of the garden, and there never was anything that he had +heard in the world so sweet as the song of that little bird. + +And the holy man rose up from his knees where he was kneeling at his +prayers to listen to its song; for he thought he never in all his life +heard anything so heavenly. + +And the little bird, after singing for some time longer on the +rose-tree, flew away to a grove at some distance from the monastery, +and the holy man followed it to listen to its singing, for he felt as +if he would never be tired of listening to the sweet song it was +singing out of its throat. + +And the little bird after that went away to another distant tree, and +sung there for a while, and then to another tree, and so on in the +same manner, but ever further and further away from the monastery, and +the holy man still following it farther, and farther, and farther, +still listening delighted to its enchanting song. + +But at last he was obliged to give up, as it was growing late in the +day, and he returned to the convent; and as he approached it in the +evening, the sun was setting in the west with all the most heavenly +colours that were ever seen in the world, and when he came into the +convent, it was nightfall. + +And he was quite surprised at everything he saw, for they were all +strange faces about him in the monastery that he had never seen +before, and the very place itself, and everything about it, seemed to +be strangely altered; and, altogether, it seemed entirely different +from what it was when he had left in the morning; and the garden was +not like the garden where he had been kneeling at his devotion when +he first heard the singing of the little bird. + +And while he was wondering at all he saw, one of the monks of the +convent came up to him, and the holy man questioned him, "Brother, +what is the cause of all these strange changes that have taken place +here since the morning?" + +And the monk that he spoke to seemed to wonder greatly at his +question, and asked him what he meant by the change since morning? +for, sure, there was no change; that all was just as before. And then +he said, "Brother, why do you ask these strange questions, and what is +your name? for you wear the habit of our order, though we have never +seen you before." + +So upon this the holy man told his name, and said that he had been at +mass in the chapel in the morning before he had wandered away from the +garden listening to the song of a little bird that was singing among +the rose-trees, near where he was kneeling at his prayers. + +And the brother, while he was speaking, gazed at him very earnestly, +and then told him that there was in the convent a tradition of a +brother of his name, who had left it two hundred years before, but +that what was become of him was never known. + +And while he was speaking, the holy man said, "My hour of death is +come; blessed be the name of the Lord for all his mercies to me, +through the merits of his only-begotten Son." + +And he kneeled down that very moment, and said, "Brother, take my +confession, for my soul is departing." + +And he made his confession, and received his absolution, and was +anointed, and before midnight he died. + +The little bird, you see, was an angel, one of the cherubims or +seraphims; and that was the way the Almighty was pleased in His mercy +to take to Himself the soul of that holy man. + +[Footnote 55: _Amulet_, 1827. T. C. Croker wrote this, he says, word +for word as he heard it from an old woman at a holy well.] + + + + +CONVERSION OF KING LAOGHAIRE'S DAUGHTERS. + + +Once when Patrick and his clericks were sitting beside a well in the +Rath of Croghan, with books open on their knees, they saw coming +towards them the two young daughters of the King of Connaught. 'Twas +early morning, and they were going to the well to bathe. + +The young girls said to Patrick, "Whence are ye, and whence come ye?" +and Patrick answered, "It were better for you to confess to the true +God than to inquire concerning our race." + +"Who is God?" said the young girls, "and where is God, and of what +nature is God, and where is His dwelling-place? Has your God sons and +daughters, gold and silver? Is he everlasting? Is he beautiful? Did +Mary foster her son? Are His daughters dear and beauteous to men of +the world? Is He in heaven, or on earth, in the sea, in rivers, in +mountainous places, in valleys?" + +Patrick answered them, and made known who God was, and they believed +and were baptised, and a white garment put upon their heads; and +Patrick asked them would they live on, or would they die and behold +the face of Christ? They chose death, and died immediately, and were +buried near the well Clebach. + + + + +KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE. + +S. LOVER. + + +"By Gor, I thought all the world, far and near, heerd o' King +O'Toole--well, well, but the darkness of mankind is ontellible! Well, +sir, you must know, as you didn't hear it afore, that there was a +king, called King O'Toole, who was a fine ould king in the ould +ancient times, long ago; and it was him that owned the churches in the +early days. The king, you see, was the right sort; he was the rale +boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and huntin' in partic'lar; +and from the risin' o' the sun, up he got, and away he wint over the +mountains beyant afther the deer; and the fine times them wor. + +"Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health; +but, you see, in coorse of time the king grew ould, by raison he was +stiff in his limbs, and when he got sthriken in years, his heart +failed him, and he was lost intirely for want o' divarshin, bekase he +couldn't go a huntin' no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was +obleeged at last for to get a goose to divart him. Oh, you may laugh, +if you like, but it's truth I'm tellin' you; and the way the goose +divarted him was this-a-way: You see, the goose used for to swim +acrass the lake, and go divin' for throut, and cotch fish on a Friday +for the king, and flew every other day round about the lake, divartin' +the poor king. All went on mighty well, antil, by dad, the goose got +sthriken in years like her master, and couldn't divart him no longer, +and then it was that the poor king was lost complate. The king was +walkin' one mornin' by the edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, +and thinkin' o' drownin' himself, that could get no divarshun in life, +when all of a suddint, turnin' round the corner beyant, who should he +meet but a mighty dacent young man comin' up to him. + +"'God save you,' says the king to the young man. + +"'God save you kindly, King O'Toole,' says the young man. 'Thrue for +you,' says the king. 'I am King O'Toole,' says he, 'prince and +plennypennytinchery o' these parts,' says he; 'but how kem ye to know +that?' says he. 'Oh, never mind,' says St. Kavin. + +"You see it was Saint Kavin, sure enough--the saint himself in +disguise, and nobody else. 'Oh, never mind,' says he, 'I know more +than that. May I make bowld to ax how is your goose, King O'Toole?' +says he. 'Blur-an-agers, how kem ye to know about my goose?' says the +king. 'Oh, no matther; I was given to understand it,' says Saint +Kavin. After some more talk the king says, 'What are you?' 'I'm an +honest man,' says Saint Kavin. 'Well, honest man,' says the king, 'and +how is it you make your money so aisy?' 'By makin' ould things as good +as new,' says Saint Kavin. 'Is it a tinker you are?' says the king. +'No,' says the saint; 'I'm no tinker by thrade, King O'Toole; I've a +betther thrade than a tinker,' says he--'what would you say,' says he, +'if I made your ould goose as good as new?' + +"My dear, at the word o' making his goose as good as new, you'd think +the poor ould king's eyes was ready to jump out iv his head. With that +the king whistled, and down kem the poor goose, all as one as a hound, +waddlin' up to the poor cripple, her masther, and as like him as two +pays. The minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, 'I'll do the +job for you,' says he, 'King O'Toole.' 'By _Jaminee_!' says King +O'Toole, 'if you do, bud I'll say you're the cleverest fellow in the +sivin parishes.' 'Oh, by dad,' says St. Kavin, 'you must say more nor +that--my horn's not so soft all out,' says he, 'as to repair your ould +goose for nothin'; what'll you gi' me if I do the job for you?--that's +the chat,' says St. Kavin. 'I'll give you whatever you ax,' says the +king; 'isn't that fair?' 'Divil a fairer,' says the saint; 'that's the +way to do business. Now,' says he, 'this is the bargain I'll make with +you, King O'Toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies +over, the first offer, afther I make her as good as new?' 'I will,' +says the king. 'You won't go back o' your word?' says St. Kavin. +'Honor bright!' says King O'Toole, howldin' out his fist. 'Honor +bright!' says St. Kavin, back agin, 'it's a bargain. Come here!' says +he to the poor ould goose--'come here, you unfort'nate ould cripple, +and it's I that'll make you the sportin' bird.' With that, my dear, he +took up the goose by the two wings--'Criss o' my crass an you,' says +he, markin' her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute--and +throwin' her up in the air, 'whew,' says he, jist givin' her a blast +to help her; and with that, my jewel, she tuk to her heels, flyin' +like one o' the aigles themselves, and cuttin' as many capers as a +swallow before a shower of rain. + +"Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standin' with +his mouth open, lookin' at his poor ould goose flyin' as light as a +lark, and betther nor ever she was: and when she lit at his fut, +patted her an the head, and, '_Ma vourneen_,' says he, 'but you are +the _darlint_ o' the world.' 'And what do you say to me,' says Saint +Kavin, 'for makin' her the like?' 'By gor,' says the king, 'I say +nothin' bates the art o' man, barrin' the bees.' 'And do you say no +more nor that?' says Saint Kavin. 'And that I'm behoulden to you,' +says the king. 'But will you gi'e me all the ground the goose flew +over?' says Saint Kavin. 'I will,' says King O'Toole, 'and you're +welkim to it,' says he, 'though it's the last acre I have to give.' +'But you'll keep your word thrue?' says the saint. 'As thrue as the +sun,' says the king. 'It's well for you, King O'Toole, that you said +that word,' says he; 'for if you didn't say that word, _the devil +receave the bit o' your goose id ever fly agin_.' Whin the king was as +good as his word, Saint Kavin was _plazed_ with him, and thin it was +that he made himself known to the king. 'And,' says he, 'King O'Toole, +you're a decent man, for I only kem here to _thry you_. You don't know +me," says he, "bekase I'm disguised.' 'Musha! thin,' says the king, +'who are you?' 'I'm Saint Kavin,' said the saint, blessin' himself. +'Oh, queen iv heaven!' says the king, makin' the sign 'o the crass +betune his eyes, and fallin' down on his knees before the saint; 'is +it the great Saint Kavin,' says he, 'that I've been discoorsin' all +this time without knowin' it,' says he, 'all as one as if he was a +lump iv a _gossoon_?--and so you're a saint?' says the king. 'I am,' +says Saint Kavin. 'By gor, I thought I was only talking to a dacent +boy,' says the king. 'Well, you know the differ now,' says the saint. +'I'm Saint Kavin,' says he, 'the greatest of all the saints.' And so +the king had his goose as good as new, to divart him as long as he +lived: and the saint supported him afther he kem into his property, as +I tould you, until the day iv his death--and that was soon afther; +for the poor goose thought he was ketchin' a throut one Friday; but, +my jewel, it was a mistake he made--and instead of a throut, it was a +thievin' horse-eel; and by gor, instead iv the goose killin' a throut +for the king's supper,--by dad, the eel killed the king's goose--and +small blame to him; but he didn't ate her, bekase he darn't ate what +Saint Kavin laid his blessed hands on." + + + + +THE DEVIL. + + + + +THE DEMON CAT.[56] + +LADY WILDE. + + +There was a woman in Connemara, the wife of a fisherman; as he had +always good luck, she had plenty of fish at all times stored away in +the house ready for market. But, to her great annoyance, she found +that a great cat used to come in at night and devour all the best and +finest fish. So she kept a big stick by her, and determined to watch. + +One day, as she and a woman were spinning together, the house suddenly +became quite dark; and the door was burst open as if by the blast of +the tempest, when in walked a huge black cat, who went straight up to +the fire, then turned round and growled at them. + +"Why, surely this is the devil," said a young girl, who was by, +sorting fish. + +"I'll teach you how to call me names," said the cat; and, jumping at +her, he scratched her arm till the blood came. "There, now," he said, +"you will be more civil another time when a gentleman comes to see +you." And with that he walked over to the door and shut it close, to +prevent any of them going out, for the poor young girl, while crying +loudly from fright and pain, had made a desperate rush to get away. + +Just then a man was going by, and hearing the cries, he pushed open +the door and tried to get in; but the cat stood on the threshold, and +would let no one pass. On this the man attacked him with his stick, +and gave him a sound blow; the cat, however, was more than a match in +the fight, for it flew at him and tore his face and hands so badly +that the man at last took to his heels and ran away as fast as he could. + +"Now, it's time for my dinner," said the cat, going up to examine the +fish that was laid out on the tables. "I hope the fish is good to-day. +Now, don't disturb me, nor make a fuss; I can help myself." With that +he jumped up, and began to devour all the best fish, while he growled +at the woman. + +"Away, out of this, you wicked beast," she cried, giving it a blow +with the tongs that would have broken its back, only it was a devil; +"out of this; no fish shall you have to-day." + +But the cat only grinned at her, and went on tearing and spoiling and +devouring the fish, evidently not a bit the worse for the blow. On +this, both the women attacked it with sticks, and struck hard blows +enough to kill it, on which the cat glared at them, and spit fire; +then, making a leap, it tore their heads and arms till the blood came, +and the frightened women rushed shrieking from the house. + +But presently the mistress returned, carrying with her a bottle of holy +water; and, looking in, she saw the cat still devouring the fish, and +not minding. So she crept over quietly and threw holy water on it +without a word. No sooner was this done than a dense black smoke filled +the place, through which nothing was seen but the two red eyes of the +cat, burning like coals of fire. Then the smoke gradually cleared away, +and she saw the body of the creature burning slowly till it became +shrivelled and black like a cinder, and finally disappeared. And from +that time the fish remained untouched and safe from harm, for the power +of the evil one was broken, and the demon cat was seen no more. + +[Footnote 56: _Ancient Legends of Ireland._] + + + + +THE LONG SPOON.[57] + +PATRICK KENNEDY. + + +The devil and the hearth-money collector for Bantry set out one summer +morning to decide a bet they made the night before over a jug of +punch. They wanted to see which would have the best load at sunset, +and neither was to pick up anything that wasn't offered with the +good-will of the giver. They passed by a house, and they heard the +poor ban-a-t'yee[58] cry out to her lazy daughter, "Oh, musha, ---- +take you for a lazy sthronsuch[59] of a girl! do you intend to get up +to-day?" "Oh, oh," says the taxman, "there's a job for you, Nick." +"Ovock," says the other, "it wasn't from her heart she said it; we +must pass on." The next cabin they were passing, the woman was on the +bawn-ditch[60] crying out to her husband that was mending one of his +brogues inside: "Oh, tattheration to you, Nick! you never rung them +pigs, and there they are in the potato drills rootin' away; the ---- +run to Lusk with them." "Another windfall for you," says the man of +the ink-horn, but the old thief only shook his horns and wagged his +tail. So they went on, and ever so many prizes were offered to the +black fellow without him taking one. Here it was a gorsoon playing +_marvels_ when he should be using his clappers in the corn-field; and +then it was a lazy drone of a servant asleep with his face to the sod +when he ought to be weeding. No one thought of offering the +hearth-money man even a drink of buttermilk, and at last the sun was +within half a foot of the edge of Cooliagh. They were just then +passing Monamolin, and a poor woman that was straining her supper in a +skeeoge outside her cabin-door, seeing the two standing at the bawn +gate, bawled out, "Oh, here's the hearth-money man--run away wid him." +"Got a bite at last," says Nick. "Oh, no, no! it wasn't from her +heart," says the collector. "Indeed, an' it was from the very +foundation-stones it came. No help for misfortunes; in with you," says +he, opening the mouth of his big black bag; and whether the devil was +ever after seen taking the same walk or not, nobody ever laid eyes on +his fellow-traveller again. + +[Footnote 57: _Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts._] + +[Footnote 58: Woman of the house.] + +[Footnote 59: Ir. _str[)o]inse_--_i.e._, a lazy thing.] + +[Footnote 60: Ir. _bádhun_--_i.e._, enclosure, or wall round a house. +From _ba_, cows, and _dún_, a fortress. Properly, cattle-fortress.] + + + + +THE COUNTESS KATHLEEN O'SHEA.[61] + + +A very long time ago, there suddenly appeared in old Ireland two +unknown merchants of whom nobody had ever heard, and who nevertheless +spoke the language of the country with the greatest perfection. Their +locks were black, and bound round with gold, and their garments were +of rare magnificence. + +Both seemed of like age; they appeared to be men of fifty, for their +foreheads were wrinkled and their beards tinged with grey. + +In the hostelry where the pompous traders alighted it was sought to +penetrate their designs; but in vain--they led a silent and retired +life. And whilst they stopped there, they did nothing but count over +and over again out of their money-bags pieces of gold, whose yellow +brightness could be seen through the windows of their lodging. + +"Gentlemen," said the landlady one day, "how is it that you are so +rich, and that, being able to succour the public misery, you do no +good works?" + +"Fair hostess," replied one of them, "we didn't like to present alms +to the honest poor, in dread we might be deceived by make-believe +paupers. Let want knock at our door, we shall open it." + +The following day, when the rumour spread that two rich strangers had +come, ready to lavish their gold, a crowd besieged their dwelling; but +the figures of those who came out were widely different. Some carried +pride in their mien; others were shame-faced. + +The two chapmen traded in souls for the demon. The souls of the aged +was worth twenty pieces of gold, not a penny more; for Satan had had +time to make his valuation. The soul of a matron was valued at fifty, +when she was handsome, and a hundred when she was ugly. The soul of a +young maiden fetched an extravagant sum; the freshest and purest +flowers are the dearest. + +At that time there lived in the city an angel of beauty, the Countess +Kathleen O'Shea. She was the idol of the people and the providence of +the indigent. As soon as she learned that these miscreants profited to +the public misery to steal away hearts from God, she called to her +butler. + +"Patrick," said she to him, "how many pieces of gold in my coffers?" + +"A hundred thousand." + +"How many jewels?" + +"The money's worth of the gold." + +"How much property in castles, forests, and lands?" + +"Double the rest." + +"Very well, Patrick; sell all that is not gold; and bring me the +account. I only wish to keep this mansion and the demesne that +surrounds it." + +Two days afterwards the orders of the pious Kathleen were executed, +and the treasure was distributed to the poor in proportion to their +wants. This, says the tradition, did not suit the purposes of the Evil +Spirit, who found no more souls to purchase. Aided by an infamous +servant, they penetrated into the retreat of the noble dame, and +purloined from her the rest of her treasure. In vain she struggled +with all her strength to save the contents of her coffers; the +diabolical thieves were the stronger. If Kathleen had been able to +make the sign of the Cross, adds the legend, she would have put them +to flight, but her hands were captive. The larceny was effected. + +Then the poor called for aid to the plundered Kathleen, alas, to no +good: she was able to succour their misery no longer; she had to +abandon them to the temptation. + +Meanwhile, but eight days had to pass before the grain and provender +would arrive in abundance from the western lands. Eight such days were +an age. Eight days required an immense sum to relieve the exigencies +of the dearth, and the poor should either perish in the agonies of +hunger, or, denying the holy maxims of the Gospel, vend, for base +lucre, their souls, the richest gift from the bounteous hand of the +Almighty. And Kathleen hadn't anything, for she had given up her +mansion to the unhappy. She passed twelve hours in tears and mourning, +rending her sun-tinted hair, and bruising her breast, of the whiteness +of the lily; afterwards she stood up, resolute, animated by a vivid +sentiment of despair. + +She went to the traders in souls. + +"What do you want?" they said. + +"You buy souls?" + +"Yes, a few still, in spite of you. Isn't that so, saint, with the +eyes of sapphire?" + +"To-day I am come to offer you a bargain," replied she. + +"What?" + +"I have a soul to sell, but it is costly." + +"What does that signify if it is precious? The soul, like the diamond, +is appraised by its transparency." + +"It is mine." + +The two emissaries of Satan started. Their claws were clutched under +their gloves of leather; their grey eyes sparkled; the soul, pure, +spotless, virginal of Kathleen--it was a priceless acquisition! + +"Beauteous lady, how much do you ask?" + +"A hundred and fifty thousand pieces of gold." + +"It's at your service," replied the traders, and they tendered Kathleen +a parchment sealed with black, which she signed with a shudder. + +The sum was counted out to her. + +As soon as she got home she said to the butler, "Here, distribute +this: with this money that I give you the poor can tide over the +eight days that remain, and not one of of their souls will be +delivered to the demon." + +Afterwards she shut herself up in her room, and gave orders that none +should disturb her. + +Three days passed; she called nobody, she did not come out. + +When the door was opened, they found her cold and stiff; she was dead +of grief. + +But the sale of this soul, so adorable in its charity, was declared +null by the Lord; for she had saved her fellow-citizens from eternal +death. + +After the eight days had passed, numerous vessels brought into +famished Ireland immense provisions in grain. Hunger was no longer +possible. As to the traders, they disappeared from their hotel without +anyone knowing what became of them. But the fishermen of the +Blackwater pretend that they are enchained in a subterranean prison by +order of Lucifer, until they shall be able to render up the soul of +Kathleen, which escaped from them. + +[Footnote 61: This was quoted in a London-Irish newspaper. I am unable +to find out the original source.] + + + + +THE THREE WISHES. + +W. CARLETON. + + +In ancient times there lived a man called Billy Dawson, and he was +known to be a great rogue. They say he was descended from the family +of the Dawsons, which was the reason, I suppose, of his carrying their +name upon him. + +Billy, in his youthful days, was the best hand at doing nothing in all +Europe; devil a mortal could come next or near him at idleness; and, +in consequence of his great practice that way, you may be sure that if +any man could make a fortune by it he would have done it. + +Billy was the only son of his father, barring two daughters; but they +have nothing to do with the story I'm telling you. Indeed it was kind +father and grandfather for Billy to be handy at the knavery as well as +at the idleness; for it was well known that not one of their blood +ever did an honest act, except with a roguish intention. In short, +they were altogether a _dacent_ connection, and a credit to the name. +As for Billy, all the villainy of the family, both plain and +ornamental, came down to him by way of legacy; for it so happened that +the father, in spite of all his cleverness, had nothing but his +roguery to _lave_ him. + +Billy, to do him justice, improved the fortune he got: every day +advanced him farther into dishonesty and poverty, until, at the long +run, he was acknowledged on all hands to be the completest swindler +and the poorest vagabond in the whole parish. + +Billy's father, in his young days, had often been forced to +acknowledge the inconvenience of not having a trade, in consequence of +some nice point in law, called the "Vagrant Act," that sometimes +troubled him. On this account he made up his mind to give Bill an +occupation, and he accordingly bound him to a blacksmith; but whether +Bill was to _live_ or _die_ by _forgery_ was a puzzle to his +father,--though the neighbours said that _both_ was most likely. At +all events, he was put apprentice to a smith for seven years, and a +hard card his master had to play in managing him. He took the proper +method, however, for Bill was so lazy and roguish that it would vex a +saint to keep him in order. + +"Bill," says his master to him one day that he had been sunning +himself about the ditches, instead of minding his business, "Bill, my +boy, I'm vexed to the heart to see you in such a bad state of health. +You're very ill with that complaint called an _All-overness_; +however," says he, "I think I can cure you. Nothing will bring you +about but three or four sound doses every day of a medicine called +'the oil o' the hazel.' Take the first dose now," says he; and he +immediately banged him with a hazel cudgel until Bill's bones ached +for a week afterwards. + +"If you were my son," said his master, "I tell you that, as long as I +could get a piece of advice growing convenient in the hedges, I'd +have you a different youth from what you are. If working was a sin, +Bill, not an innocenter boy ever broke bread than you would be. Good +people's scarce, you think; but however that may be, I throw it out as +a hint, that you must take your medicine till you're cured, whenever +you happen to get unwell in the same way." + +From this out he kept Bill's nose to the grinding-stone; and whenever +his complaint returned, he never failed to give him a hearty dose for +his improvement. + +In the course of time, however, Bill was his own man and his own +master; but it would puzzle a saint to know whether the master or the +man was the more precious youth in the eyes of the world. + +He immediately married a wife, and devil a doubt of it, but if _he_ +kept _her_ in whiskey and sugar, _she_ kept _him_ in hot water. Bill +drank and she drank; Bill fought and she fought; Bill was idle and she +was idle; Bill whacked her and she whacked Bill. If Bill gave her one +black eye, she gave him another; _just to keep herself in +countenance_. Never was there a blessed pair so well met; and a +beautiful sight it was to see them both at breakfast-time, blinking at +each other across the potato-basket, Bill with his right eye black, +and she with her left. + +In short, they were the talk of the whole town: and to see Bill of a +morning staggering home drunk, his shirt sleeves rolled up on his +smutted arms, his breast open, and an old tattered leather apron, with +one corner tucked up under his belt, singing one minute, and fighting +with his wife the next;--she, reeling beside him, with a discoloured +eye, as aforesaid, a dirty ragged cap on one side of her head, a pair +of Bill's old slippers on her feet, a squalling child on her arm--now +cuffing and dragging Bill, and again kissing and hugging him! Yes, it +was a pleasant picture to see this loving pair in such a state! + +This might do for a while, but it could not last. They were idle, +drunken, and ill-conducted; and it was not to be supposed that they +would get a farthing candle on their words. They were, of course, +_dhruv_ to great straits; and faith, they soon found that their +fighting, and drinking, and idleness made them the laughing-sport of +the neighbours; but neither brought food to their _childhre_, put a +coat upon their backs, nor satisfied their landlord when he came to +look for his own. Still, the never a one of Bill but was a funny +fellow with strangers, though, as we said, the greatest rogue unhanged. + +One day he was standing against his own anvil, completely in a brown +study--being brought to his wit's end how to make out a breakfast for +the family. The wife was scolding and cursing in the house, and the +naked creatures of childhre squalling about her knees for food. Bill +was fairly at an amplush, and knew not where or how to turn himself, +when a poor withered old beggar came into the forge, tottering on his +staff. A long white beard fell from his chin, and he looked as thin +and hungry that you might blow him, one would think, over the house. +Bill at this moment had been brought to his senses by distress, and +his heart had a touch of pity towards the old man; for, on looking at +him a second time, he clearly saw starvation and sorrow in his face. + +"God save you, honest man!" said Bill. + +The old man gave a sigh, and raising himself with great pain, on his +staff, he looked at Bill in a very beseeching way. + +"Musha, God save you kindly!" says he; "maybe you could give a poor, +hungry, helpless ould man a mouthful of something to ait? You see +yourself I'm not able to work; if I was, I'd scorn to be behoulding to +anyone." + +"Faith, honest man," said Bill, "if you knew who you're speaking to, +you'd as soon ask a monkey for a churn-staff as me for either mate or +money. There's not a blackguard in the three kingdoms so fairly on the +_shaughran_ as I am for both the one and the other. The wife within is +sending the curses thick and heavy on me, and the childhre's playing +the cat's melody to keep her in comfort. Take my word for it, poor +man, if I had either mate or money I'd help you, for I know +particularly well what it is to want them at the present spaking; an +empty sack won't stand, neighbour." + +So far Bill told him truth. The good thought was in his heart, because +he found himself on a footing with the beggar; and nothing brings down +pride, or softens the heart, like feeling what it is to want. + +"Why, you are in a worse state than I am," said the old man; "you have +a family to provide for, and I have only myself to support." + +"You may kiss the book on that, my old worthy," replied Bill; "but +come, what I can do for you I will; plant yourself up here beside the +fire, and I'll give it a blast or two of my bellows that will warm the +old blood in your body. It's a cold, miserable, snowy day, and a good +heat will be of service." + +"Thank you kindly," said the old man; "I _am_ cold, and a warming at +your fire will do me good, sure enough. Oh, it _is a bitter, bitter +day; God bless it!" _ He then sat down, and Bill blew a rousing blast +that soon made the stranger edge back from the heat. In a short time +he felt quite comfortable, and when the numbness was taken out of his +joints, he buttoned himself up and prepared to depart. + +"Now," says he to Bill, "you hadn't the food to give me, but _what you +could you did_. Ask any three wishes you choose, and be they what they +may, take my word for it, they shall be granted." + +Now, the truth is, that Bill, though he believed himself a great man +in point of 'cuteness, wanted, after all, a full quarter of being +square; for there is always a great difference between a wise man and +a knave. Bill was so much of a rogue that he could not, for the blood +of him, ask an honest wish, but stood scratching his head in a puzzle. + +"Three wishes!" said he. "Why, let me see--did you say _three_?" + +"Ay," replied the stranger, "three wishes--that was what I said." + +"Well," said Bill, "here goes,--aha!--let me alone, my old +worthy!--faith I'll overreach the parish, if what you say is true. +I'll cheat them in dozens, rich and poor, old and young: let me alone, +man,--I have it here;" and he tapped his forehead with great glee. +"Faith, you're the sort to meet of a frosty morning, when a man wants +his breakfast; and I'm sorry that I have neither money nor credit to +get a bottle of whiskey, that we might take our _morning_ together." + +"Well, but let us hear the wishes," said the old man; "my time is +short, and I cannot stay much longer." + +"Do you see this sledge-hammer?" said Bill; "I wish, in the first +place, that whoever takes it up in their hands may never be able to +lay it down till I give them lave; and that whoever begins to sledge +with it may never stop sledging till it's my pleasure to release him." + +"Secondly--I have an arm-chair, and I wish that whoever sits down in +it may never rise out of it till they have my consent." + +"And, thirdly--that whatever money I put into my purse, nobody may +have power to take it out of it but myself!" + +"You devil's rip!" says the old man in a passion, shaking his staff +across Bill's nose, "why did you not ask something that would sarve +you both here and hereafter? Sure it's as common as the market-cross, +that there's not a vagabone in his Majesty's dominions stands more in +need of both." + +"Oh! by the elevens," said Bill, "I forgot that altogether! Maybe +you'd be civil enough to let me change one of them? The sorra purtier +wish ever was made than I'll make, if you'll give me another chance." + +"Get out, you reprobate," said the old fellow, still in a passion. +"Your day of grace is past. Little you knew who was speaking to you +all this time. I'm St. Moroky, you blackguard, and I gave you an +opportunity of doing something for yourself and your family; but you +neglected it, and now your fate is cast, you dirty, bog-trotting +profligate. Sure, it's well known what you are! Aren't you a by-word +in everybody's mouth, you and your scold of a wife? By this and by +that, if ever you happen to come across me again, I'll send you to +where you won't freeze, you villain!" + +He then gave Bill a rap of his cudgel over the head, and laid him at +his length beside the bellows, kicked a broken coal-scuttle out of his +way, and left the forge in a fury. + +When Billy recovered himself from the effects of the blow, and began +to think on what had happened, he could have quartered himself with +vexation for not asking great wealth as one of the wishes at least; +but now the die was cast on him, and he could only make the most of +the three he pitched upon. + +He now bethought him how he might turn them to the best account, and +here his cunning came to his aid. He began by sending for his +wealthiest neighbours on pretence of business; and when he got them +under his roof, he offered them the arm-chair to sit down in. He now +had them safe, nor could all the art of man relieve them except worthy +Bill was willing. Bill's plan was to make the best bargain he could +before he released his prisoners; and let him alone for knowing how to +make their purses bleed. There wasn't a wealthy man in the country he +did not fleece. The parson of the parish bled heavily; so did the +lawyer; and a rich attorney, who had retired from practice, swore that +the Court of Chancery itself was paradise compared to Bill's chair. + +This was all very good for a time. The fame of his chair, however, +soon spread; so did that of his sledge. In a short time neither man, +woman, nor child would darken his door; all avoided him and his +fixtures as they would a spring-gun or man-trap. Bill, so long as he +fleeced his neighbours, never wrought a hand's turn; so that when his +money was out, he found himself as badly off as ever. In addition to +all this, his character was fifty times worse than before; for it was +the general belief that he had dealings with the old boy. Nothing now +could exceed his misery, distress, and ill-temper. The wife and he and +their children all fought among one another. Everybody hated them, +cursed them, and avoided them. The people thought they were acquainted +with more than Christian people ought to know. This, of course, came +to Bill's ears, and it vexed him very much. + +One day he was walking about the fields, thinking of how he could +raise the wind once more; the day was dark, and he found himself, +before he stopped, in the bottom of a lonely glen covered by great +bushes that grew on each side. "Well," thought he, when every other +means of raising money failed him, "it's reported that I'm in league +with the old boy, and as it's a folly to have the name of the +connection without the profit, I'm ready to make a bargain with him +any day;--so," said he, raising his voice, "Nick, you sinner, if you +be convanient and willing, why stand out here; show your best +leg--here's your man." + +The words were hardly out of his mouth when a dark, sober-looking old +gentleman, not unlike a lawyer, walked up to him. Bill looked at the +foot and saw the hoof.--"Morrow, Nick," says Bill. + +"Morrow, Bill," says Nick. "Well, Bill, what's the news?" + +"Devil a much myself hears of late," says Bill; "is there anything +_fresh_ below?" + +"I can't exactly say, Bill; I spend little of my time down now; the +Tories are in office, and my hands are consequently too full of +business here to pay much attention to anything else." + +"A fine place this, sir," says Bill, "to take a constitutional walk +in; when I want an appetite I often come this way myself--hem! _High_ +feeding is very bad without exercise." + +"High feeding! Come, come, Bill, you know you didn't taste a morsel +these four-and-twenty hours." + +"You know that's a bounce, Nick. I eat a breakfast this morning that +would put a stone of flesh on you, if you only smelt at it." + +"No matter; this is not to the purpose. What's that you were +muttering to yourself awhile ago? If you want to come to the brunt, +here I'm for you." + +"Nick," said Bill, "you're complate; you want nothing barring a pair +of Brian O'Lynn's breeches." + +Bill, in fact, was bent on making his companion open the bargain, +because he had often heard that, in that case, with proper care on his +own part, he might defeat him in the long run. The other, however, was +his match. + +"What was the nature of Brian's garment," inquired Nick. "Why, you +know the song," said Bill-- + + "'Brian O'Lynn had no breeches to wear, + So he got a sheep's skin for to make him a pair; + With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in, + They'll be pleasant and _cool_, says Brian O'Lynn.' + +"A _cool_ pare would sarve you, Nick." + +"You're mighty waggish to-day, Misther Dawson." + +"And good right I have," said Bill; "I'm a man snug and well to do in +the world; have lots of money, plenty of good eating and drinking, and +what more need a man wish for?" + +"True," said the other; "in the meantime it's rather odd that so +respectable a man should not have six inches of unbroken cloth in his +apparel. You are as naked a tatterdemalion as I ever laid my eyes on; +in full dress for a party of scare-crows, William." + +"That's my own fancy, Nick; I don't work at my trade like a gentleman. +This is my forge dress, you know." + +"Well, but what did you summon me here for?" said the other; "you may +as well speak out, I tell you; for, my good friend, unless _you_ do, +_I_ shan't. Smell that." + +"I smell more than that," said Bill; "and by the way, I'll thank you +to give me the windy side of you--curse all sulphur, I say. There, +that's what I call an improvement in my condition. But as you _are_ so +stiff," says Bill, "why, the short and long of it is--that--hem--you +see I'm--tut--sure you know I have a thriving trade of my own, and +that if I like I needn't be at a loss; but in the meantime I'm rather +in a kind of a so--so--don't you _take_?" + +And Bill winked knowingly, hoping to trick him into the first proposal. + +"You must speak above-board, my friend," says the other. "I'm a man of +few words, blunt and honest. If you have anything to say, be plain. +Don't think I can be losing my time with such a pitiful rascal as you +are." + +"Well," says Bill, "I want money, then, and am ready to come into +terms. What have you to say to that, Nick?" + +"Let me see--let me look at you," says his companion, turning him +about. "Now, Bill, in the first place, are you not as finished a +scare-crow as ever stood upon two legs?" + +"I play second fiddle to you there again," says Bill. + +"There you stand, with the blackguards' coat of arms quartered under +your eye, and----" + +"Don't make little of _black_guards," said Bill, "nor spake +disparagingly of _your own_ crest." + +"Why, what would you bring, you brazen rascal, if you were fairly put +up at auction?" + +"Faith, I'd bring more bidders than you would," said Bill, "if you +were to go off at auction to-morrow. I tell you they should bid +_downwards_ to come to your value, Nicholas. We have no coin _small_ +enough to purchase you." + +"Well, no matter," said Nick. "If you are willing to be mine at the +expiration of seven years, I will give you more money than ever the +rascally breed of you was worth." + +"Done!" said Bill; "but no disparagement to my family, in the +meantime; so down with the hard cash, and don't be a _neger_." + +The money was accordingly paid down! but as nobody was present, except +the giver and receiver, the amount of what Bill got was never known. + +"Won't you give me a luck-penny?" said the old gentleman. + +"Tut," said Billy, "so prosperous an old fellow as you cannot want it; +however, bad luck to you, with all my heart! and it's rubbing grease +to a fat pig to say so. Be off now, or I'll commit suicide on you. +Your absence is a cordial to most people, you infernal old profligate. +You have injured my morals even for the short time you have been with +me; for I don't find myself so virtuous as I was." + +"Is that your gratitude, Billy?" + +"Is it gratitude _you_ speak of, man? I wonder you don't blush when +you name it. However, when you come again, if you bring a third eye in +your head you will see what I mane, Nicholas, ahagur." + +The old gentleman, as Bill spoke, hopped across the ditch, on his way +to _Downing_-street, where of late 'tis thought he possesses much +influence. + +Bill now began by degrees to show off; but still wrought a little at +his trade to blindfold the neighbours. In a very short time, however, +he became a great man. So long indeed as he was a _poor_ rascal, no +decent person would speak to him; even the proud serving-men at the +"Big House" would turn up their noses at him. And he well deserved to +be made little of by others, because he was mean enough to make little +of himself. But when it was seen and known that he had oceans of +money, it was wonderful to think, although he was _now_ a greater +blackguard than ever, how those who despised him before began to come +round him and court his company. Bill, however, had neither sense nor +spirit to make those sunshiny friends know their distance; not +he--instead of that he was proud to be seen in decent company, and so +long as the money lasted, it was, "hail fellow, well met," between +himself and every fair-faced _spunger_ who had a horse under him, a +decent coat to his back, and a good appetite to eat his dinners. With +riches and all, Bill was the same man still; but, somehow or other, +there is a great difference between a rich profligate and a poor one, +and Bill found it so to his cost in _both_ cases. + +Before half the seven years was passed, Bill had his carriage, and his +equipages; was hand and glove with my Lord This, and my Lord That; +kept hounds and hunters; was the first sportsman at the Curragh; +patronised every boxing ruffian he could pick up; and betted night and +day on cards, dice, and horses. Bill, in short, _should_ be a blood, +and except he did all this, he could not presume to mingle with the +fashionable bloods of his time. + +It's an old proverb, however, that "what is got over the devil's back +is sure to go off under it;" and in Bill's case this proved true. In +short, the old boy himself could not supply him with money so fast as +he made it fly; it was "come easy, go easy," with Bill, and so sign +was on it, before he came within two years of his time he found his +purse empty. + +And now came the value of his summer friends to be known. When it was +discovered that the cash was no longer flush with him--that stud, and +carriage, and hounds were going to the hammer--whish! off they went, +friends, relations, pot-companions, dinner-eaters, black-legs, and +all, like a flock of crows that had smelt gunpowder. Down Bill soon +went, week after week, and day after day, until at last he was obliged +to put on the leather apron, and take to the hammer again; and not +only that, for as no experience could make him wise, he once more +began his tap-room brawls, his quarrels with Judy, and took to his +"high feeding" at the dry potatoes and salt. Now, too, came the +cutting tongues of all who knew him, like razors upon him. Those that +he scorned because they were poor and himself rich, now paid him back +his own with interest; and those that he measured himself with, +because they were rich, and who only countenanced him in consequence +of his wealth, gave him the hardest word in their cheeks. The devil +mend him! He deserved it all, and more if he had got it. + +Bill, however, who was a hardened sinner, never fretted himself down +an ounce of flesh by what was said to him, or of him. Not he; he +cursed, and fought, and swore, and schemed away as usual, taking in +every one he could; and surely none could match him at villainy of all +sorts, and sizes. + +At last the seven years became expired, and Bill was one morning +sitting in his forge, sober and hungry, the wife cursing him, and the +childhre squalling, as before; he was thinking how he might defraud +some honest neighbour out of a breakfast to stop their mouths and his +own too, when who walks in to him but old Nick, to demand his bargain. + +"Morrow, Bill!" says he with a sneer. + +"The devil welcome you!" says Bill; "but you have a fresh memory." + +"A bargain's a bargain between two _honest_ men, any day," says Satan; +"when I speak of _honest_ men, I mean _yourself_ and _me_, Bill;" and +he put his tongue in his cheek to make game of the unfortunate rogue +he had come for. + +"Nick, my worthy fellow," said Bill, "have bowels; you wouldn't do a +shabby thing; you wouldn't disgrace your own character by putting more +weight upon a falling man. You know what it is to get a _come down_ +yourself, my worthy; so just keep your toe in your pump, and walk off +with yourself somewhere else. A _cool_ walk will sarve you better than +my company, Nicholas." + +"Bill, it's no use in shirking," said his friend; "your swindling +tricks may enable you to cheat others, but you won't cheat _me_, I +guess. You want nothing to make you perfect in your way but to travel; +and travel you shall under my guidance, Billy. No, no--_I'm_ not to be +swindled, my good fellow. I have rather a--a--better opinion of +myself, Mr. D., than to think that you could outwit one Nicholas +Clutie, Esq.--ahem!" + +"You may sneer, you sinner," replied Bill; "but I tell you that I have +outwitted men who could buy and sell you to your face. Despair, you +villain, when I tell you that _no attorney_ could stand before me." + +Satan's countenance got blank when he heard this; he wriggled and +fidgeted about, and appeared to be not quite comfortable. + +"In that case, then," says he, "the sooner I _deceive_ you the better; +so turn out for the _Low Countries_." + +"Is it come to that in earnest?" said Bill, "and are you going to act +the rascal at the long run?" + +"'Pon honour, Bill." + +"Have patience, then, you sinner, till I finish this horse shoe--it's +the last of a set I'm finishing for one of your friend the attorney's +horses. And here, Nick, I hate idleness, you know it's the mother of +mischief; take this sledge-hammer, and give a dozen strokes or so, till +I get it out of hands, and then here's with you, since it must be so." + +He then gave the bellows a puff that blew half a peck of dust in +Club-foot's face, whipped out the red-hot iron, and set Satan sledging +away for bare life. + +"Faith," says Bill to him, when the shoe was finished, "it's a +thousand pities ever the sledge should be out of your hand; the great +_Parra Gow_ was a child to you at sledging, you're such an able tyke. +Now just exercise yourself till I bid the wife and childhre good-bye, +and then I'm off." + +Out went Bill, of course, without the slightest notion of coming back; +no more than Nick had that he could not give up the sledging, and +indeed neither could he, but was forced to work away as if he was +sledging for a wager. This was just what Bill wanted. He was now +compelled to sledge on until it was Bill's pleasure to release him; +and so we leave him very industriously employed, while we look after +the worthy who outwitted him. + +In the meantime, Bill broke cover, and took to the country at large; +wrought a little journey-work wherever he could get it, and in this +way went from one place to another, till, in the course of a month, he +walked back very coolly into his own forge, to see how things went on +in his absence. There he found Satan in a rage, the perspiration +pouring from him in torrents, hammering with might and main upon the +naked anvil. Bill calmly leaned his back against the wall, placed his +hat upon the side of his head, put his hands into his breeches +pockets, and began to whistle _Shaun Gow's_ hornpipe. At length he +says, in a very quiet and good-humoured way-- + +"Morrow, Nick!" + +"Oh!" says Nick, still hammering away--"Oh! you double-distilled +villain (hech!), may the most refined, ornamental (hech!), +double-rectified, super-extra, and original (hech!) collection of +curses that ever was gathered (hech!) into a single nosegay of +ill-fortune (hech!), shine in the button-hole of your conscience +(hech!) while your name is Bill Dawson! I denounce you (hech!) as a +double-milled villain, a finished, hot-pressed knave (hech!), in +comparison of whom all the other knaves I ever knew (hech!), attorneys +included, are honest men. I brand you (hech!) as the pearl of cheats, +a tip-top take-in (hech!). I denounce you, I say again, for the +villainous treatment (hech!) I have received at your hands in this +most untoward (hech!) and unfortunate transaction between us; for +(hech!) unfortunate, in every sense, is he that has anything to do +with (hech!) such a prime and finished impostor." + +"You're very warm, Nicky," says Bill; "what puts you into a passion, +you old sinner? Sure if it's your own will and pleasure to take +exercise at my anvil, _I'm_ not to be abused for it. Upon my credit, +Nicky, you ought to blush for using such blackguard language, so +unbecoming your grave character. You cannot say that it was I set you +a hammering at the empty anvil, you profligate. However, as you are so +industrious, I simply say it would be a thousand pities to take you +from it. Nick, I love industry in my heart, and I always encourage it; +so work away, it's not often you spend your time so creditably. I'm +afraid if you weren't at that you'd be worse employed." + +"Bill, have bowels," said the operative; "you wouldn't go to lay more +weight on a falling man, you know; you wouldn't disgrace your +character by such a piece of iniquity as keeping an inoffensive +gentleman, advanced in years, at such an unbecoming and rascally job +as this. Generosity's your top virtue, Bill; not but that you have +many other excellent ones, as well as that, among which, as you say +yourself, I reckon industry; but still it is in generosity you +_shine_. Come, Bill, honour bright, and release me." + +"Name the terms, you profligate." + +"You're above terms, William; a generous fellow like you never thinks +of terms." + +"Good-bye, old gentleman!" said Bill, very coolly; "I'll drop in to +see you once a month." + +"No, no, Bill, you infern--a--a--you excellent, worthy, delightful +fellow, not so fast; not so fast. Come, name your terms, you +sland----my dear Bill, name your terms." + +"Seven years more." + +"I agree; but----" + +"And the same supply of cash as before, down on the nail here." + +"Very good; very good. You're rather simple, Bill; rather soft, I must +confess. Well, no matter. I shall yet turn the tab--a--hem! You are an +exceedingly simple fellow, Bill; still there will come a day, my +_dear_ Bill--there will come----" + +"Do you grumble, you vagrant? Another word, and I double the terms." + +"Mum, William--mum; _tace_ is Latin for a candle." + +"Seven years more of grace, and the same measure of the needful that I +got before. Ay or no?" + +"Of grace, Bill! Ay! ay! ay! There's the cash. I accept the terms. Oh +blood! the rascal--of grace!! Bill!" + +"Well, now drop the hammer, and vanish," says Billy; "but what would +you think to take this sledge, while you stay, and give me a----eh! +why in such a hurry?" he added, seeing that Satan withdrew in +double-quick time. + +"Hollo! Nicholas!" he shouted, "come back; you forgot something!" and +when the old gentleman looked behind him, Billy shook the hammer at +him, on which he vanished altogether. + +Billy now got into his old courses; and what shows the kind of people +the world is made of, he also took up with his old company. When they +saw that he had the money once more, and was sowing it about him in +all directions, they immediately began to find excuses for his former +extravagance. + +"Say what you will," said one, "Bill Dawson's a spirited fellow, and +bleeds like a prince." + +"He's a hospitable man in his own house, or out of it, as ever lived," +said another. + +"His only fault is," observed a third, "that he is, if anything, too +generous, and doesn't know the value of money; his fault's on the +right side, however." + +"He has the spunk in him," said a fourth; "keeps a capital table, +prime wines, and a standing welcome for his friends." + +"Why," said a fifth, "if he doesn't enjoy his money while he lives, he +won't when he's dead; so more power to him, and a wider throat to his +purse." + +Indeed, the very persons who were cramming themselves at his expense +despised him at heart. They knew very well, however, how to take him +on the weak side. Praise his generosity, and he would do anything; +call him a man of spirit, and you might fleece him to his face. +Sometimes he would toss a purse of guineas to this knave, another to +that flatterer, a third to a bully, and a fourth to some broken down +rake--and all to convince them that _he_ was a sterling friend--a man +of mettle and liberality. But never was he known to help a virtuous +and struggling family--to assist the widow or the fatherless, or to do +any other act that was _truly_ useful. It is to be supposed the reason +of this was, that as he spent it, as most of the world do, in the +service of the devil, by whose aid he got it, he was prevented from +turning it to a good account. Between you and me, dear reader, there +are more persons acting after Bill's fashion in the same world than +you dream about. + +When his money was out again, his friends played him the same rascally +game once more. No sooner did his poverty become plain, than the knaves +began to be troubled with small fits of modesty, such as an +unwillingness to come to his place when there was no longer anything to +be got there. A kind of virgin bashfulness prevented them from speaking +to him when they saw him getting out on the wrong side of his clothes. +Many of them would turn away from him in the prettiest and most delicate +manner when they thought he wanted to borrow money from them--all for +fear of putting him to the blush by asking it. Others again, when they +saw him coming towards their houses about dinner hour, would become so +confused, from mere gratitude, as to think themselves in another place; +and their servants, seized, as it were, with the same feeling, would +tell Bill that their masters were "not at home." + +At length, after travelling the same villainous round as before, Bill +was compelled to betake himself, as the last remedy, to the forge; in +other words, he found that there is, after all, nothing in this world +that a man can rely on so firmly and surely as his own industry. Bill, +however, wanted the organ of common sense; for his experience--and it +was sharp enough to leave an impression--ran off him like water off a +duck. + +He took to his employment sorely against his grain; but he had now no +choice. He must either work or starve, and starvation is like a great +doctor--nobody tries it till every other remedy fails them. Bill had +been twice rich; twice a gentleman among blackguards, but always a +blackguard among gentlemen; for no wealth or acquaintance with decent +society could rub the rust of his native vulgarity off him. He was now +a common blinking sot in his forge; a drunken bully in the tap-room, +cursing and brow-beating every one as well as his wife; boasting of +how much money he had spent in his day; swaggering about the high +doings he carried on; telling stories about himself and Lord This at +the Curragh; the dinners he gave--how much they cost him, and +attempting to extort credit upon the strength of his former wealth. He +was too ignorant, however, to know that he was publishing his own +disgrace, and that it was a mean-spirited thing to be proud of what +ought to make him blush through a deal board nine inches thick. + +He was one morning industriously engaged in a quarrel with his wife, +who, with a three-legged stool in her hand, appeared to mistake his +head for his own anvil; he, in the meantime, paid his addresses to her +with his leather apron, when who steps in to jog his memory about the +little agreement that was between them, but old Nick. The wife, it +seems, in spite of all her exertions to the contrary, was getting the +worst of it; and Sir Nicholas, willing to appear a gentleman of great +gallantry, thought he could not do less than take up the lady's +quarrel, particularly as Bill had laid her in a sleeping posture. Now +Satan thought this too bad; and as he felt himself under many +obligations to the sex, he determined to defend one of them on the +present occasion; so as Judy rose, he turned upon the husband, and +floored him by a clever facer. + +"You unmanly villain," said he, "is this the way you treat your wife? +'Pon honour, Bill, I'll chastise you on the spot. I could not stand +by, a spectator of such ungentlemanly conduct without giving up all +claim to gallant----" Whack! the word was divided in his mouth by the +blow of a churn-staff from Judy, who no sooner saw Bill struck, than +she nailed Satan, who "fell" once more. + +"What, you villain! that's for striking my husband like a murderer +behind his back," said Judy, and she suited the action to the word, +"that's for interfering between man and wife. Would you murder the +poor man before my face? eh? If _he_ bates me, you shabby dog you, who +has a better right? I'm sure it's nothing out of your pocket. Must you +have your finger in every pie?" + +This was anything but _idle_ talk; for at every word she gave him a +remembrance, hot and heavy. Nicholas backed, danced, and hopped; she +advanced, still drubbing him with great perseverance, till at length +he fell into the redoubtable arm-chair, which stood exactly behind +him. Bill, who had been putting in two blows for Judy's one, seeing +that his enemy was safe, now got between the devil and his wife, _a +situation that few will be disposed to envy him_. + +"Tenderness, Judy," said the husband, "I hate cruelty. Go put the +tongs in the fire, and make them red hot. Nicholas, you have a nose," +said he. + +Satan began to rise, but was rather surprised to find that he could +not budge. + +"Nicholas," says Bill, "how is your pulse? you don't look well; that +is to say, you look worse than usual." + +The other attempted to rise, but found it a mistake. + +"I'll thank you to come along," said Bill. "I have a fancy to travel +under your guidance, and we'll take the _Low Countries_ in our way, +won't we? Get to your legs, you sinner; you know a bargain's a bargain +between two _honest men_, Nicholas; meaning _yourself_ and _me_. Judy, +are the tongs hot?" + +Satan's face was worth looking at, as he turned his eyes from the +husband to the wife, and then fastened them on the tongs, now nearly +at a furnace heat in the fire, conscious at the same time that he +could not move out of the chair. + +"Billy," said he, "you won't forget that I rewarded your generosity +the last time I saw you, in the way of business." "Faith, Nicholas, it +fails me to remember any generosity I ever showed you. Don't be +womanish. I simply want to see what kind of stuff your nose is made +of, and whether it will stretch like a rogue's conscience. If it does, +we will flatter it up the _chimly_ with red-hot tongs, and when this +old hat is fixed on the top of it, let us alone for a weather-cock." +"Have a _fellow-feeling_, Mr. Dawson; you know _we_ ought not to +dispute. Drop the matter, and I give you the next seven years." "We +know all that," says Billy, opening the red-hot tongs very coolly. +"Mr. Dawson," said Satan, "if you cannot remember my friendship to +yourself, don't forget how often I stood your father's friend, your +grandfather's friend, and the friend of all your relations up to the +tenth generation. I intended, also, to stand by your children after +you, so long as the name of Dawson, and a respectable one it is, might +last." "Don't be blushing, Nick," says Bill, "you are too modest; that +was ever your failing; hould up your head, there's money bid for you. +I'll give you such a nose, my good friend, that you will have to keep +an outrider before you, to carry the end of it on his shoulder." "Mr. +Dawson, I pledge my honour to raise your children in the world as high +as they can go; no matter whether they desire it or not." "That's very +kind of you," says the other, "and I'll do as much for your nose." + +He gripped it as he spoke, and the old boy immediately sung out; Bill +pulled, and the nose went with him like a piece of warm wax. He then +transferred the tongs to Judy, got a ladder, resumed the tongs, +ascended the chimney, and tugged stoutly at the nose until he got it +five feet above the roof. He then fixed the hat upon the top of it, +and came down. + +"There's a weather-cock," said Billy; "I defy Ireland to show such a +beauty. Faith, Nick, it would make the purtiest steeple for a church, +in all Europe, and the old hat fits it to a shaving." + +In this state, with his nose twisted up the chimney, Satan sat for +some time, experiencing the novelty of what might be termed a peculiar +sensation. At last the worthy husband and wife began to relent. + +"I think," said Bill, "that we have made the most of the nose, as well +as the joke; I believe, Judy, it's long enough." "What is?" says Judy. + +"Why, the joke," said the husband. + +"Faith, and I think so is the nose," said Judy. + +"What do you say yourself, Satan?" said Bill. + +"Nothing at all, William," said the other; "but that--ha! ha!--it's a +good joke--an excellent joke, and a goodly nose, too, as it _stands_. +You were always a gentlemanly man, Bill, and did things with a grace; +still, if I might give an opinion on such a trifle----" + +"It's no trifle at all," says Bill, "if you spake of the nose." "Very +well, it is not," says the other; "still, I am decidedly of opinion, +that if you could shorten both the joke and the nose without further +violence, you would lay me under very heavy obligations, which I shall +be ready to acknowledge and _repay_ as I ought." "Come," said Bill, +"shell out once more, and be off for seven years. As much as you came +down with the last time, and vanish." + +The words were scarcely spoken, when the money was at his feet, and +Satan invisible. Nothing could surpass the mirth of Bill and his wife +at the result of this adventure. They laughed till they fell down on +the floor. + +It is useless to go over the same ground again. Bill was still +incorrigible. The money went as the devil's money always goes. Bill +caroused and squandered, but could never turn a penny of it to a good +purpose. In this way, year after year went, till the seventh was +closed, and Bill's hour come. He was now, and had been for some time +past, as miserable a knave as ever. Not a shilling had he, nor a +shilling's worth, with the exception of his forge, his cabin, and a +few articles of crazy furniture. In this state he was standing in his +forge as before, straining his ingenuity how to make out a breakfast, +when Satan came to look after him. The old gentleman was sorely +puzzled how to get at him. He kept skulking and sneaking about the +forge for some time, till he saw that Bill hadn't a cross to bless +himself with. He immediately changed himself into a guinea, and lay in +an open place where he knew Bill would see him. "If," said he, "I once +get into his possession, I can manage him." The honest smith took the +bait, for it was well gilded; he clutched the guinea, put it into his +purse, and closed it up. "Ho! ho!" shouted the devil out of the purse, +"you're caught, Bill; I've secured you at last, you knave you. Why +don't you despair, you villain, when you think of what's before you?" +"Why, you unlucky ould dog," said Bill, "is it there you are? Will you +always drive your head into every loop-hole that's set for you? Faith, +Nick achora, I never had you bagged till now." + +Satan then began to tug and struggle with a view of getting out of the +purse, but in vain. + +"Mr. Dawson," said he, "we understand each other. I'll give the seven +years additional, and the cash on the nail." "Be aisey, Nicholas. You +know the weight of the hammer, that's enough. It's not a whipping with +feathers you're going to get, anyhow. Just be aisey." "Mr. Dawson, I +grant I'm not your match. Release me, and I double the cash. I was +merely trying your temper when I took the shape of a guinea." + +"Faith and I'll try yours before I lave it, I've a notion." He +immediately commenced with the sledge, and Satan sang out with a +considerable want of firmness. "Am I heavy enough!" said Bill. + +"Lighter, lighter, William, if you love me. I haven't been well +latterly, Mr. Dawson--I have been delicate--my health, in short, is in +a very precarious state, Mr. Dawson." "I can believe _that_," said +Bill, "and it will be more so before I have done with you. Am I doing +it right?" "Bill," said Nick, "is this gentlemanly treatment in your +own respectable shop? Do you think, if you dropped into my little +place, that I'd act this rascally part towards you? Have you no +compunction?" "I know," replied Bill, sledging away with vehemence, +"that you're notorious for giving your friends a _warm_ welcome. Divil +an ould youth more so; but you must be daling in bad coin, must you? +However, good or bad, you're in for a sweat now, you sinner. Am I +doin' it purty?" + +"Lovely, William--but, if possible, a little more delicate." + +"Oh, how delicate you are! Maybe a cup o' tay would sarve you, or a +little small gruel to compose your stomach." + +"Mr. Dawson," said the gentleman in the purse, "hold your hand and let +us understand one another. I have a proposal to make." "Hear the +sinner anyhow," said the wife. "Name your own sum," said Satan, "only +set me free." "No, the sorra may take the toe you'll budge till you +let Bill off," said the wife; "hould him hard, Bill, barrin' he sets +_you_ clear of your engagement." "There it is, my posy," said Bill; +"that's the condition. If you don't give _me up_, here's at you once +more--and you must double the cash you gave the last time, too. So, if +you're of that opinion, say _ay_--leave the cash and be off." + +The money again appeared in a glittering heap before Bill, upon which +he exclaimed--"The _ay_ has it, you dog. Take to your pumps now, and +fair weather after you, you vagrant; but Nicholas--Nick--here, +here----" The other looked back, and saw Bill, with a broad grin upon +him, shaking the purse at him--"Nicholas come back," said he. "I'm +short a guinea." Nick shook his fist, and disappeared. + +It would be useless to stop now, merely to inform our readers that +Bill was beyond improvement. In short, he once more took to his old +habits, and lived on exactly in the same manner as before. He had two +sons--one as great a blackguard as himself, and who was also named +after him; the other was a well-conducted, virtuous young man, called +James, who left his father, and having relied upon his own industry +and honest perseverance in life, arrived afterwards to great wealth, +and built the town called Castle Dawson; which is so called from its +founder until this day. + +Bill, at length, in spite of all his wealth, was obliged, as he +himself said, "to travel,"--in other words, he fell asleep one day, +and forgot to awaken; or, in still plainer terms, he died. + +Now, it is usual, when a man dies, to close the history of his life +and adventures at once; but with our hero this cannot be the case. The +moment Bill departed, he very naturally bent his steps towards the +residence of St. Moroky, as being, in his opinion, likely to lead him +towards the snuggest berth he could readily make out. On arriving, he +gave a very humble kind of a knock, and St. Moroky appeared. + +"God save your Reverence!" said Bill, very submissively. + +"Be off; there's no admittance here for so poor a youth as you are," +said St Moroky. + +He was now so cold and fatigued that he cared little where he went, +provided only, as he said himself, "he could rest his bones, and get +an air of the fire." Accordingly, after arriving at a large black +gate, he knocked, as before, and was told he would get _instant_ +admittance the moment he gave his name. + +"Billy Dawson," he replied. + +"Off, instantly," said the porter to his companions, "and let his +Majesty know that the rascal he dreads so much is here at the gate." + +Such a racket and tumult were never heard as the very mention of Billy +Dawson created. + +In the meantime, his old acquaintance came running towards the gate +with such haste and consternation, that his tail was several times +nearly tripping up his heels. + +"Don't admit that rascal," he shouted; "bar the gate--make every +chain, and lock and bolt, fast--I won't be safe--and I won't stay +here, nor none of us need stay here, if he gets in--my bones are sore +yet after him. No, no--begone you villain--you'll get no entrance +here--I know you too well." + +Bill could not help giving a broad, malicious grin at Satan, and, +putting his nose through the bars, he exclaimed--"Ha! you ould dog, I +have you afraid of me at last, have I?" + +He had scarcely uttered the words, when his foe, who stood inside, +instantly tweaked him by the nose, and Bill felt as if he had been +gripped by the same red-hot tongs with which he himself had formerly +tweaked the nose of Nicholas. + +Bill then departed, but soon found that in consequence of the +inflammable materials which strong drink had thrown into his nose, +that organ immediately took fire, and, indeed, to tell the truth, kept +burning night and day, winter and summer, without ever once going out, +from that hour to this. + +Such was the sad fate of Billy Dawson, who has been walking without +stop or stay, from place to place, ever since; and in consequence of +the flame on his nose, and his beard being tangled like a wisp of hay, +he has been christened by the country folk Will-o'-the-Wisp, while, as +it were, to show the mischief of his disposition, the circulating +knave, knowing that he must seek the coldest bogs and quagmires in +order to cool his nose, seizes upon that opportunity of misleading the +unthinking and tipsy night travellers from their way, just that he may +have the satisfaction of still taking in as many as possible. + + + + +GIANTS. + + +When the pagan gods of Ireland--the _Tuath-De-Dan[=a]n_--robbed of +worship and offerings, grew smaller and smaller in the popular +imagination, until they turned into the fairies, the pagan heroes grew +bigger and bigger, until they turned into the giants. + + + + +THE GIANT'S STAIRS.[62] + +T. CROFTON CROKER. + + +On the road between Passage and Cork there is an old mansion called +Ronayne's Court. It may be easily known from the stack of chimneys and +the gable-ends, which are to be seen, look at it which way you will. +Here it was that Maurice Ronayne and his wife Margaret Gould kept +house, as may be learned to this day from the great old chimney-piece, +on which is carved their arms. They were a mighty worthy couple, and +had but one son, who was called Philip, after no less a person than +the King of Spain. + +Immediately on his smelling the cold air of this world the child +sneezed, which was naturally taken to be a good sign of his having a +clear head; and the subsequent rapidity of his learning was truly +amazing, for on the very first day a primer was put into his hands he +tore out the A, B, C page and destroyed it, as a thing quite beneath +his notice. No wonder, then, that both father and mother were proud of +their heir, who gave such indisputable proofs of genius, or, as they +called it in that part of the world, "_genus_." + +One morning, however, Master Phil, who was then just seven years old, +was missing, and no one could tell what had become of him: servants +were sent in all directions to seek him, on horseback and on foot, but +they returned without any tidings of the boy, whose disappearance +altogether was most unaccountable. A large reward was offered, but it +produced them no intelligence, and years rolled away without Mr. and +Mrs. Ronayne having obtained any satisfactory account of the fate of +their lost child. + +There lived at this time, near Carrigaline, one Robert Kelly, a +blacksmith by trade. He was what is termed a handy man, and his +abilities were held in much estimation by the lads and the lasses of +the neighbourhood; for, independent of shoeing horses, which he did to +great perfection, and making plough-irons, he interpreted dreams for +the young women, sung "Arthur O'Bradley" at their weddings, and was so +good-natured a fellow at a christening, that he was gossip to half the +country round. + +Now it happened that Robin had a dream himself, and young Philip +Ronayne appeared to him in it, at the dead hour of the night. Robin +thought he saw the boy mounted upon a beautiful white horse, and that +he told him how he was made a page to the giant Mahon MacMahon, who +had carried him off, and who held his court in the hard heart of the +rock. "The seven years--my time of service--are clean out, Robin," +said he, "and if you release me this night I will be the making of you +for ever after." + +"And how will I know," said Robin--cunning enough, even in his +sleep--"but this is all a dream?" + +"Take that," said the boy, "for a token"--and at the word the white +horse struck out with one of his hind legs, and gave poor Robin such a +kick in the forehead that, thinking he was a dead man, he roared as +loud as he could after his brains, and woke up, calling a thousand +murders. He found himself in bed, but he had the mark of the blow, the +regular print of a horse-shoe, upon his forehead as red as blood; and +Robin Kelly, who never before found himself puzzled at the dream of +any other person, did not know what to think of his own. + +Robin was well acquainted with the Giant's Stairs--as, indeed, who is +not that knows the harbour? They consist of great masses of rock, +which, piled one above another, rise like a flight of steps from very +deep water, against the bold cliff of Carrigmahon. Nor are they badly +suited for stairs to those who have legs of sufficient length to +stride over a moderate-sized house, or to enable them to clear the +space of a mile in a hop, step, and jump. Both these feats the giant +MacMahon was said to have performed in the days of Finnian glory; and +the common tradition of the country placed his dwelling within the +cliff up whose side the stairs led. + +Such was the impression which the dream made on Robin, that he +determined to put its truth to the test. It occurred to him, however, +before setting out on this adventure, that a plough-iron may be no bad +companion, as, from experience, he knew it was an excellent knock-down +argument, having on more occasions than one settled a little +disagreement very quietly: so, putting one on his shoulder, off he +marched, in the cool of the evening, through Glaun a Thowk (the Hawk's +Glen) to Monkstown. Here an old gossip of his (Tom Clancey by name) +lived, who, on hearing Robin's dream, promised him the use of his skiff, +and, moreover, offered to assist in rowing it to the Giant's Stairs. + +After a supper, which was of the best, they embarked. It was a +beautiful still night, and the little boat glided swiftly along. The +regular dip of the oars, the distant song of the sailor, and sometimes +the voice of a belated traveller at the ferry of Carrigaloe, alone +broke the quietness of the land and sea and sky. The tide was in their +favour, and in a few minutes Robin and his gossip rested on their oars +under the dark shadow of the Giant's Stairs. Robin looked anxiously +for the entrance to the Giant's palace, which, it was said, may be +found by any one seeking it at midnight; but no such entrance could he +see. His impatience had hurried him there before that time, and after +waiting a considerable space in a state of suspense not to be +described, Robin, with pure vexation, could not help exclaiming to +his companion, "'Tis a pair of fools we are, Tom Clancey, for coming +here at all on the strength of a dream." + +"And whose doing is it," said Tom, "but your own?" + +At the moment he spoke they perceived a faint glimmering of light to +proceed from the cliff, which gradually increased until a porch big +enough for a king's palace unfolded itself almost on a level with the +water. They pulled the skiff directly towards the opening, and Robin +Kelly, seizing his plough-iron, boldly entered with a strong hand and +a stout heart. Wild and strange was that entrance, the whole of which +appeared formed of grim and grotesque faces, blending so strangely +each with the other that it was impossible to define any: the chin of +one formed the nose of another; what appeared to be a fixed and stern +eye, if dwelt upon, changed to a gaping mouth; and the lines of the +lofty forehead grew into a majestic and flowing beard. The more Robin +allowed himself to contemplate the forms around him, the more terrific +they became; and the stoney expression of this crowd of faces assumed +a savage ferocity as his imagination converted feature after feature +into a different shape and character. Losing the twilight in which +these indefinite forms were visible, he advanced through a dark and +devious passage, whilst a deep and rumbling noise sounded as if the +rock was about to close upon him, and swallow him up alive for ever. +Now, indeed, poor Robin felt afraid. + +"Robin, Robin," said he, "if you were a fool for coming here, what in +the name of fortune are you now?" But, as before, he had scarcely +spoken, when he saw a small light twinkling through the darkness of +the distance, like a star in the midnight sky. To retreat was out of +the question; for so many turnings and windings were in the passage, +that he considered he had but little chance of making his way back. +He, therefore, proceeded towards the bit of light, and came at last +into a spacious chamber, from the roof of which hung the solitary lamp +that had guided him. Emerging from such profound gloom, the single +lamp afforded Robin abundant light to discover several gigantic +figures seated round a massive stone table, as if in serious +deliberation, but no word disturbed the breathless silence which +prevailed. At the head of this table sat Mahon MacMahon himself, whose +majestic beard had taken root, and in the course of ages grown into +the stone slab. He was the first who perceived Robin; and instantly +starting up, drew his long beard from out the huge piece of rock in +such haste and with so sudden a jerk that it was shattered into a +thousand pieces. + +"What seek you?" he demanded in a voice of thunder. + +"I come," answered Robin, with as much boldness as he could put on, +for his heart was almost fainting within him; "I come," said he, "to +claim Philip Ronayne, whose time of service is out this night." + +"And who sent you here?" said the giant. + +"'Twas of my own accord I came," said Robin. + +"Then you must single him out from among my pages," said the giant; +"and if you fix on the wrong one, your life is the forfeit. Follow +me." He led Robin into a hall of vast extent, and filled with lights; +along either side of which were rows of beautiful children, all +apparently seven years old, and none beyond that age, dressed in +green, and every one exactly dressed alike. + +"Here," said Mahon, "you are free to take Philip Ronayne, if you will; +but, remember, I give but one choice." + +Robin was sadly perplexed; for there were hundreds upon hundreds of +children; and he had no very clear recollection of the boy he sought. +But he walked along the hall, by the side of Mahon, as if nothing was +the matter, although his great iron dress clanked fearfully at every +step, sounding louder than Robin's own sledge battering on his anvil. + +They had nearly reached the end without speaking, when Robin, seeing +that the only means he had was to make friends with the giant, +determined to try what effect a few soft words might have. + +"'Tis a fine wholesome appearance the poor children carry," remarked +Robin, "although they have been here so long shut out from the fresh +air and the blessed light of heaven. 'Tis tenderly your honour must +have reared them!" + +"Ay," said the giant, "that is true for you; so give me your hand; for +you are, I believe, a very honest fellow for a blacksmith." + +Robin at the first look did not much like the huge size of the hand, +and, therefore, presented his plough-iron, which the giant seizing, +twisted in his grasp round and round again as if it had been a potato +stalk. On seeing this all the children set up a shout of laughter. In +the midst of their mirth Robin thought he heard his name called; and +all ear and eye, he put his hand on the boy who he fancied had spoken, +crying out at the same time, "Let me live or die for it, but this is +young Phil Ronayne." + +"It is Philip Ronayne--happy Philip Ronayne," said his young +companions; and in an instant the hall became dark. Crashing noises +were heard, and all was in strange confusion; but Robin held fast his +prize, and found himself lying in the grey dawn of the morning at the +head of the Giant's Stairs with the boy clasped in his arms. + +Robin had plenty of gossips to spread the story of his wonderful +adventure: Passage, Monkstown, Carrigaline--the whole barony of +Kerricurrihy rung with it. + +"Are you quite sure, Robin, it is young Phil Ronayne you have brought +back with you?" was the regular question; for although the boy had +been seven years away, his appearance now was just the same as on the +day he was missed. He had neither grown taller nor older in look, and +he spoke of things which had happened before he was carried off as one +awakened from sleep, or as if they had occurred yesterday. + +"Am I sure? Well, that's a queer question," was Robin's reply; "seeing +the boy has the blue eye of the mother, with the foxy hair of the +father; to say nothing of the _purty_ wart on the right side of his +little nose." + +However Robin Kelly may have been questioned, the worthy couple of +Ronayne's Court doubted not that he was the deliverer of their child +from the power of the giant MacMahon; and the reward they bestowed on +him equalled their gratitude. + +Philip Ronayne lived to be an old man; and he was remarkable to the +day of his death for his skill in working brass and iron, which it was +believed he had learned during his seven years' apprenticeship to the +giant Mahon MacMahon. + +[Footnote 62: _Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland._] + + + + +A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY. + +WILLIAM CARLETON. + + +What Irish man, woman, or child has not heard of our renowned +Hibernian Hercules, the great and glorious Fin M'Coul? Not one, from +Cape Clear to the Giant's Causeway, nor from that back again to Cape +Clear. And, by-the-way, speaking of the Giant's Causeway brings me at +once to the beginning of my story. Well, it so happened that Fin and +his gigantic relatives were all working at the Causeway, in order to +make a bridge, or what was still better, a good stout pad-road, across +to Scotland; when Fin, who was very fond of his wife Oonagh, took it +into his head that he would go home and see how the poor woman got on +in his absence. To be sure, Fin was a true Irishman, and so the sorrow +thing in life brought him back, only to see that she was snug and +comfortable, and, above all things, that she got her rest well at +night; for he knew that the poor woman, when he was with her, used to +be subject to nightly qualms and configurations, that kept him very +anxious, decent man, striving to keep her up to the good spirits and +health that she had when they were first married. So, accordingly, he +pulled up a fir-tree, and, after lopping off the roots and branches, +made a walking-stick of it, and set out on his way to Oonagh. + +Oonagh, or rather Fin, lived at this time on the very tip-top of +Knockmany Hill, which faces a cousin of its own called Cullamore, that +rises up, half-hill, half-mountain, on the opposite side--east-east by +south, as the sailors say, when they wish to puzzle a landsman. + +Now, the truth is, for it must come out, that honest Fin's affection +for his wife, though cordial enough in itself, was by no manner of +means the real cause of his journey home. There was at that time +another giant, named Cucullin--some say he was Irish, and some say he +was Scotch--but whether Scotch or Irish, sorrow doubt of it but he was +a _targer_. No other giant of the day could stand before him; and such +was his strength, that, when well vexed, he could give a stamp that +shook the country about him. The fame and name of him went far and +near; and nothing in the shape of a man, it was said, had any chance +with him in a fight. Whether the story is true or not, I cannot say, +but the report went that, by one blow of his fists he flattened a +thunderbolt, and kept it in his pocket, in the shape of a pancake, to +show to all his enemies, when they were about to fight him. +Undoubtedly he had given every giant in Ireland a considerable +beating, barring Fin M'Coul himself; and he swore, by the solemn +contents of Moll Kelly's Primer, that he would never rest, night or +day, winter or summer, till he would serve Fin with the same sauce, if +he could catch him. Fin, however, who no doubt was the cock of the +walk on his own dunghill, had a strong disinclination to meet a giant +who could make a young earthquake, or flatten a thunderbolt when he +was angry; so he accordingly kept dodging about from place to place, +not much to his credit as a Trojan, to be sure, whenever he happened +to get the hard word that Cucullin was on the scent of him. This, +then, was the marrow of the whole movement, although he put it on his +anxiety to see Oonagh; and I am not saying but there was some truth in +that too. However, the short and long of it was, with reverence be it +spoken, that he heard Cucullin was coming to the Causeway to have a +trial of strength with him; and he was naturally enough seized, in +consequence, with a very warm and sudden sit of affection for his +wife, poor woman, who was delicate in her health, and leading, +besides, a very lonely, uncomfortable life of it (he assured them) in +his absence. He accordingly pulled up the fir-tree, as I said before, +and having _snedded_ it into a walking-stick, set out on his +affectionate travels to see his darling Oonagh on the top of +Knockmany, by the way. + +In truth, to state the suspicions of the country at the time, the people +wondered very much why it was that Fin selected such a windy spot for +his dwelling-house, and they even went so far as to tell him as much. + +"What can you mane, Mr. M'Coul," said they, "by pitching your tent +upon the top of Knockmany, where you never are without a breeze, day +or night, winter or summer, and where you're often forced to take your +nightcap[63] without either going to bed or turning up your little +finger; ay, an' where, besides this, there's the sorrow's own want of +water?" + +"Why," said Fin, "ever since I was the height of a round tower, I was +known to be fond of having a good prospect of my own; and where the +dickens, neighbours, could I find a better spot for a good prospect +than the top of Knockmany? As for water, I am sinking a pump,[64] and, +plase goodness, as soon as the Causeway's made, I intend to finish it." + +Now, this was more of Fin's philosophy; for the real state of the case +was, that he pitched upon the top of Knockmany in order that he might +be able to see Cucullin coming towards the house, and, of course, that +he himself might go to look after his distant transactions in other +parts of the country, rather than--but no matter--we do not wish to +be too hard on Fin. All we have to say is, that if he wanted a spot +from which to keep a sharp look-out--and, between ourselves, he did +want it grievously--barring Slieve Croob, or Slieve Donard, or its own +cousin, Cullamore, he could not find a neater or more convenient +situation for it in the sweet and sagacious province of Ulster. + +"God save all here!" said Fin, good-humouredly, on putting his honest +face into his own door. + +"Musha, Fin, avick, an' you're welcome home to your own Oonagh, you +darlin' bully." Here followed a smack that is said to have made the +waters of the lake at the bottom of the hill curl, as it were, with +kindness and sympathy. + +"Faith," said Fin, "beautiful; an' how are you, Oonagh--and how did +you sport your figure during my absence, my bilberry?" + +"Never a merrier--as bouncing a grass widow as ever there was in sweet +'Tyrone among the bushes.'" + +Fin gave a short, good-humoured cough, and laughed most heartily, to +show her how much he was delighted that she made herself happy in his +absence. + +"An' what brought you home so soon, Fin?" said she. + +"Why, avourneen," said Fin, putting in his answer in the proper way, +"never the thing but the purest of love and affection for yourself. +Sure you know that's truth, anyhow, Oonagh." + +Fin spent two or three happy days with Oonagh, and felt himself very +comfortable, considering the dread he had of Cucullin. This, however, +grew upon him so much that his wife could not but perceive something +lay on his mind which he kept altogether to himself. Let a woman +alone, in the meantime, for ferreting or wheedling a secret out of her +good man, when she wishes. Fin was a proof of this. + +"It's this Cucullin," said he, "that's troubling me. When the fellow +gets angry, and begins to stamp, he'll shake you a whole townland; +and it's well known that he can stop a thunderbolt, for he always +carries one about him in the shape of a pancake, to show to anyone +that might misdoubt it." + +As he spoke, he clapped his thumb in his mouth, which he always did +when he wanted to prophesy, or to know anything that happened in his +absence; and the wife, who knew what he did it for, said, very sweetly, + +"Fin, darling, I hope you don't bite your thumb at me, dear?" + +"No," said Fin; "but I bite my thumb, acushla," said he. + +"Yes, jewel; but take care and don't draw blood," said she. "Ah, Fin! +don't, my bully--don't." + +"He's coming," said Fin; "I see him below Dungannon." + +"Thank goodness, dear! an' who is it, avick? Glory be to God!" + +"That baste, Cucullin," replied Fin; "and how to manage I don't know. +If I run away, I am disgraced; and I know that sooner or later I must +meet him, for my thumb tells me so." + +"When will he be here?" said she. + +"To-morrow, about two o'clock," replied Fin, with a groan. + +"Well, my bully, don't be cast down," said Oonagh; "depend on me, and +maybe I'll bring you better out of this scrape than ever you could +bring yourself, by your rule o' thumb." + +This quieted Fin's heart very much, for he knew that Oonagh was hand +and glove with the fairies; and, indeed, to tell the truth, she was +supposed to be a fairy herself. If she was, however, she must have +been a kind-hearted one, for, by all accounts, she never did anything +but good in the neighbourhood. + +Now it so happened that Oonagh had a sister named Granua, living +opposite them, on the very top of Cullamore, which I have mentioned +already, and this Granua was quite as powerful as herself. The +beautiful valley that lies between them is not more than about three +or four miles broad, so that of a summer's evening, Granua and Oonagh +were able to hold many an agreeable conversation across it, from the +one hill-top to the other. Upon this occasion Oonagh resolved to +consult her sister as to what was best to be done in the difficulty +that surrounded them. + +"Granua," said she, "are you at home?" + +"No," said the other; "I'm picking bilberries in Althadhawan" +(_Anglicé_, the Devil's Glen). + +"Well," said Oonagh, "get up to the top of Cullamore, look about you, +and then tell us what you see." + +"Very well," replied Granua; after a few minutes, "I am there now." + +"What do you see?" asked the other. + +"Goodness be about us!" exclaimed Granua, "I see the biggest giant +that ever was known coming up from Dungannon." + +"Ay," said Oonagh, "there's our difficulty. That giant is the great +Cucullin; and he's now commin' up to leather Fin. What's to be done?" + +"I'll call to him," she replied, "to come up to Cullamore and refresh +himself, and maybe that will give you and Fin time to think of some plan +to get yourselves out of the scrape. But," she proceeded, "I'm short of +butter, having in the house only half-a-dozen firkins, and as I'm to +have a few giants and giantesses to spend the evenin' with me, I'd feel +thankful, Oonagh, if you'd throw me up fifteen or sixteen tubs, or the +largest miscaun you have got, and you'll oblige me very much." + +"I'll do that with a heart and a-half," replied Oonagh; "and, indeed, +Granua, I feel myself under great obligations to you for your kindness +in keeping him off of us till we see what can be done; for what would +become of us all if anything happened Fin, poor man." + +She accordingly got the largest miscaun of butter she had--which might +be about the weight of a couple a dozen mill-stones, so that you may +easily judge of its size--and calling up to her sister, "Granua," +said she, "are you ready? I'm going to throw you up a miscaun, so be +prepared to catch it." + +"I will," said the other; "a good throw now, and take care it does not +fall short." + +Oonagh threw it; but, in consequence of her anxiety about Fin and +Cucullin, she forgot to say the charm that was to send it up, so that, +instead of reaching Cullamore, as she expected, it fell about half-way +between the two hills, at the edge of the Broad Bog near Augher. + +"My curse upon you!" she exclaimed; "you've disgraced me. I now change +you into a grey stone. Lie there as a testimony of what has happened; +and may evil betide the first living man that will ever attempt to +remove or injure you!" + +And, sure enough, there it lies to this day, with the mark of the four +fingers and thumb imprinted in it, exactly as it came out of her hand. + +"Never mind," said Granua, "I must only do the best I can with +Cucullin. If all fail, I'll give him a cast of heather broth to keep +the wind out of his stomach, or a panada of oak-bark to draw it in a +bit; but, above all things, think of some plan to get Fin out of the +scrape he's in, otherwise he's a lost man. You know you used to be +sharp and ready-witted; and my own opinion, Oonagh, is, that it will +go hard with you, or you'll outdo Cucullin yet." + +She then made a high smoke on the top of the hill, after which she put +her finger in her mouth, and gave three whistles, and by that Cucullin +knew he was invited to Cullamore--for this was the way that the Irish +long ago gave a sign to all strangers and travellers, to let them know +they were welcome to come and take share of whatever was going. + +In the meantime, Fin was very melancholy, and did not know what to do, +or how to act at all. Cucullin was an ugly customer, no doubt, to meet +with; and, moreover, the idea of the confounded "cake" aforesaid +flattened the very heart within him. What chance could he have, +strong and brave though he was, with a man who could, when put in a +passion, walk the country into earthquakes and knock thunderbolts into +pancakes? The thing was impossible; and Fin knew not on what hand to +turn him. Right or left--backward or forward--where to go he could +form no guess whatsoever. + +"Oonagh," said he, "can you do nothing for me? Where's all your +invention? Am I to be skivered like a rabbit before your eyes, and to +have my name disgraced forever in the sight of all my tribe, and me +the best man among them? How am I to fight this man-mountain--this +huge cross between an earthquake and a thunderbolt?--with a pancake in +his pocket that was once----" + +"Be easy, Fin," replied Oonagh; "troth, I'm ashamed of you. Keep your +toe in your pump, will you? Talking of pancakes, maybe we'll give him +as good as any he brings with him--thunderbolt or otherwise. If I +don't treat him to as smart feeding as he's got this many a day, never +trust Oonagh again. Leave him to me, and do just as I bid you." + +This relieved Fin very much; for, after all, he had great confidence +in his wife, knowing, as he did, that she had got him out of many a +quandary before. The present, however, was the greatest of all; but +still he began to get courage, and was able to eat his victuals as +usual. Oonagh then drew the nine woollen threads of different colours, +which she always did to find out the best way of succeeding in +anything of importance she went about. She then platted them into +three plats with three colours in each, putting one on her right arm, +one round her heart, and the third round her right ankle, for then she +knew that nothing could fail with her that she undertook. + +Having everything now prepared, she sent round to the neighbours and +borrowed one-and-twenty iron griddles, which she took and kneaded into +the hearts of one-and-twenty cakes of bread, and these she baked on +the fire in the usual way, setting them aside in the cupboard +according as they were done. She then put down a large pot of new +milk, which she made into curds and whey, and gave Fin due +instructions how to use the curds when Cucullin should come. Having +done all this, she sat down quite contented, waiting for his arrival +on the next day about two o'clock, that being the hour at which he was +expected--for Fin knew as much by the sucking of his thumb. Now, this +was a curious property that Fin's thumb had; but, notwithstanding all +the wisdom and logic he used, to suck out of it, it could never have +stood to him here were it not for the wit of his wife. In this very +thing, moreover, he was very much resembled by his great foe, +Cucullin; for it was well known that the huge strength he possessed +all lay in the middle finger of his right hand, and that, if he +happened by any mischance to lose it, he was no more, notwithstanding +his bulk, than a common man. + +At length, the next day, he was seen coming across the valley, and +Oonagh knew that it was time to commence operations. She immediately +made the cradle, and desired Fin to lie down in it, and cover himself +up with the clothes. + +"You must pass for you own child," said she; "so just lie there snug, +and say nothing, but be guided by me." This, to be sure, was wormwood +to Fin--I mean going into the cradle in such a cowardly manner--but he +knew Oonagh well; and finding that he had nothing else for it, with a +very rueful face he gathered himself into it, and lay snug, as she had +desired him. + +About two o'clock, as he had been expected, Cucullin came in. "God +save all here!" said he; "is this where the great Fin M'Coul lives?" + +"Indeed it is, honest man," replied Oonagh; "God save you +kindly--won't you be sitting?" + +"Thank you, ma'am," says he, sitting down; "you're Mrs. M'Coul, I +suppose?" + +"I am," said she; "and I have no reason, I hope, to be ashamed of my +husband." + +"No," said the other, "he has the name of being the strongest and +bravest man in Ireland; but for all that, there's a man not far from +you that's very desirous of taking a shake with him. Is he at home?" + +"Why, then, no," she replied; "and if ever a man left his house in a +fury, he did. It appears that some one told him of a big basthoon of a +giant called Cucullin being down at the Causeway to look for him, and +so he set out there to try if he could catch him. Troth, I hope, for +the poor giant's sake, he won't meet with him, for if he does, Fin +will make paste of him at once." + +"Well," said the other, "I am Cucullin, and I have been seeking him +these twelve months, but he always kept clear of me; and I will never +rest night or day till I lay my hands on him." + +At this Oonagh set up a loud laugh, of great contempt, by-the-way, and +looked at him as if he was only a mere handful of a man. + +"Did you ever see Fin?" said she, changing her manner all at once. + +"How could I?" said he; "he always took care to keep his distance." + +"I thought so," she replied; "I judged as much; and if you take my +advice, you poor-looking creature, you'll pray night and day that you +may never see him, for I tell you it will be a black day for you when +you do. But, in the meantime, you perceive that the wind's on the +door, and as Fin himself is from home, maybe you'd be civil enough to +turn the house, for it's always what Fin does when he's here." + +This was a startler even to Cucullin; but he got up, however, and +after pulling the middle finger of his right hand until it cracked +three times, he went outside, and getting his arms about the house, +completely turned it as she had wished. When Fin saw this, he felt a +certain description of moisture, which shall be nameless, oozing out +through every pore of his skin; but Oonagh, depending upon her woman's +wit, felt not a whit daunted. + +"Arrah, then," said she, "as you are so civil, maybe you'd do another +obliging turn for us, as Fin's not here to do it himself. You see, +after this long stretch of dry weather we've had, we feel very badly +off for want of water. Now, Fin says there's a fine spring-well +somewhere under the rocks behind the hill here below, and it was his +intention to pull them asunder; but having heard of you, he left the +place in such a fury, that he never thought of it. Now, if you try to +find it, troth I'd feel it a kindness." + +She then brought Cucullin down to see the place, which was then all +one solid rock; and, after looking at it for some time, he cracked his +right middle finger nine times, and, stooping down, tore a cleft about +four hundred feet deep, and a quarter of a mile in length, which has +since been christened by the name of Lumford's Glen. This feat nearly +threw Oonagh herself off her guard; but what won't a woman's sagacity +and presence of mind accomplish? + +"You'll now come in," said she, "and eat a bit of such humble fare as +we can give you. Fin, even although he and you are enemies, would +scorn not to treat you kindly in his own house; and, indeed, if I +didn't do it even in his absence, he would not be pleased with me." + +She accordingly brought him in, and placing half-a-dozen of the cakes we +spoke of before him, together with a can or two of butter, a side of +boiled bacon, and a stack of cabbage, she desired him to help +himself--for this, be it known, was long before the invention of +potatoes. Cucullin, who, by the way, was a glutton as well as a hero, +put one of the cakes in his mouth to take a huge whack out of it, when +both Fin and Oonagh were stunned with a noise that resembled something +between a growl and a yell. "Blood and fury!" he shouted; "how is this? +Here are two of my teeth out! What kind of bread is this you gave me?" + +"What's the matter?" said Oonagh coolly. + +"Matter!" shouted the other again; "why, here are the two best teeth +in my head gone." + +"Why," said she, "that's Fin's bread--the only bread he ever eats when +at home; but, indeed, I forgot to tell you that nobody can eat it but +himself, and that child in the cradle there. I thought, however, that, +as you were reported to be rather a stout little fellow of your size, +you might be able to manage it, and I did not wish to affront a man +that thinks himself able to fight Fin. Here's another cake--maybe it's +not so hard as that." + +Cucullin at the moment was not only hungry, but ravenous, so he +accordingly made a fresh set at the second cake, and immediately +another yell was heard twice as loud as the first. "Thunder and +giblets!" he roared, "take your bread out of this, or I will not have +a tooth in my head; there's another pair of them gone!" + +"Well, honest man," replied Oonagh, "if you're not able to eat the +bread, say so quietly, and don't be wakening the child in the cradle +there. There, now, he's awake upon me." + +Fin now gave a skirl that startled the giant, as coming from such a +youngster as he was represented to be. "Mother," said he, "I'm +hungry--get me something to eat." Oonagh went over, and putting into his +hand a cake _that had no griddle in it_, Fin, whose appetite in the +meantime was sharpened by what he saw going forward, soon made it +disappear. Cucullin was thunderstruck, and secretly thanked his stars +that he had the good fortune to miss meeting Fin, for, as he said to +himself, I'd have no chance with a man who could eat such bread as that, +which even his son that's but in his cradle can munch before my eyes. + +"I'd like to take a glimpse at the lad in the cradle," said he to +Oonagh; "for I can tell you that the infant who can manage that +nutriment is no joke to look at, or to feed of a scarce summer." + +"With all the veins of my heart," replied Oonagh; "get up, acushla, +and show this decent little man something that won't be unworthy of +your father, Fin M'Coul." + +Fin, who was dressed for the occasion as much like a boy as possible, +got up, and bringing Cucullin out, "Are you strong?" said he. + +"Thunder an' ounds!" exclaimed the other, "what a voice in so small a +chap!" + +"Are you strong?" said Fin again; "are you able to squeeze water out +of that white stone?" he asked, putting one into Cucullin's hand. The +latter squeezed and squeezed the stone, but to no purpose; he might +pull the rocks of Lumford's Glen asunder, and flatten a thunderbolt, +but to squeeze water out of a white stone was beyond his strength. Fin +eyed him with great contempt, as he kept straining and squeezing and +squeezing and straining, till he got black in the face with the efforts. + +"Ah, you're a poor creature!" said Fin. "You a giant! Give me the +stone here, and when I'll show what Fin's little son can do; you may +then judge of what my daddy himself is." + +Fin then took the stone, and slyly exchanging it for the curds, he +squeezed the latter until the whey, as clear as water, oozed out in a +little shower from his hand. + +"I'll now go in," said he "to my cradle; for I scorn to lose my time +with any one that's not able to eat my daddy's bread, or squeeze water +out of a stone. Bedad, you had better be off out of this before he +comes back; for if he catches you, it's in flummery he'd have you in +two minutes." + +Cucullin, seeing what he had seen, was of the same opinion himself; his +knees knocked together with the terror of Fin's return, and he +accordingly hastened in to bid Oonagh farewell, and to assure her, that +from that day out, he never wished to hear of, much less to see, her +husband. "I admit fairly that I'm not a match for him," said he, "strong +as I am; tell him I will avoid him as I would the plague, and that I +will make myself scarce in this part of the country while I live." + +Fin, in the meantime, had gone into the cradle, where he lay very +quietly, his heart at his mouth with delight that Cucullin was about +to take his departure, without discovering the tricks that had been +played off on him. + +"It's well for you," said Oonagh, "that he doesn't happen to be here, +for it's nothing but hawk's meat he'd make of you." + +"I know that," says Cucullin; "divil a thing else he'd make of me; but +before I go, will you let me feel what kind of teeth they are that +can eat griddle-bread like _that_?"--and he pointed to it as he spoke. + +"With all pleasure in life," said she; "only, as they're far back in +his head, you must put your finger a good way in." + +Cucullin was surprised to find such a powerful set of grinders in one +so young; but he was still much more so on finding, when he took his +hand from Fin's mouth, that he had left the very finger upon which his +whole strength depended, behind him. He gave one loud groan, and fell +down at once with terror and weakness. This was all Fin wanted, who +now knew that his most powerful and bitterest enemy was completely at +his mercy. He instantly started out of the cradle, and in a few +minutes the great Cucullin, that was for such a length of time the +terror of him and all his followers, lay a corpse before him. Thus did +Fin, through the wit and invention of Oonagh, his wife, succeed in +overcoming his enemy by stratagem, which he never could have done by +force: and thus also is it proved that the women, if they bring us +_into_ many an unpleasant scrape, can sometimes succeed in getting us +_out_ of others that are as bad. + +[Footnote 63: A common name for the cloud or rack that hangs, as a +forerunner of wet weather, about the peak of a mountain.] + +[Footnote 64: There is upon the top of this hill an opening that bears +a very strong resemblance to the crater of an extinct volcano.] + + + + +KINGS, QUEENS, PRINCESSES, EARLS, ROBBERS. + + + + +THE TWELVE WILD GEESE.[65] + +PATRICK KENNEDY. + + +There was once a King and Queen that lived very happily together, and +they had twelve sons and not a single daughter. We are always wishing +for what we haven't, and don't care for what we have, and so it was +with the Queen. One day in winter, when the bawn was covered with +snow, she was looking out of the parlour window, and saw there a calf +that was just killed by the butcher, and a raven standing near it. +"Oh," says she, "if I had only a daughter with her skin as white as +that snow, her cheeks as red as that blood, and her hair as black as +that raven, I'd give away every one of my twelve sons for her." The +moment she said the word, she got a great fright, and a shiver went +through her, and in an instant after, a severe-looking old woman stood +before her. "That was a wicked wish you made," said she, "and to +punish you it will be granted. You will have such a daughter as you +desire, but the very day of her birth you will lose your other +children." She vanished the moment she said the words. + +And that very way it turned out. When she expected her delivery, she had +her children all in a large room of the palace, with guards all round +it, but the very hour her daughter came into the world, the guards +inside and outside heard a great whirling and whistling, and the twelve +princes were seen flying one after another out through the open window, +and away like so many arrows over the woods. Well, the king was in great +grief for the loss of his sons, and he would be very enraged with his +wife if he only knew that she was so much to blame for it. + +Everyone called the little princess Snow-white-and-Rose-red on account +of her beautiful complexion. She was the most loving and lovable child +that could be seen anywhere. When she was twelve years old she began +to be very sad and lonely, and to torment her mother, asking her about +her brothers that she thought were dead, for none up to that time ever +told her the exact thing that happened them. The secret was weighing +very heavy on the Queen's conscience, and as the little girl +persevered in her questions, at last she told her. "Well, mother," +said she, "it was on my account my poor brothers were changed into +wild geese, and are now suffering all sorts of hardship; before the +world is a day older, I'll be off to seek them, and try to restore +them to their own shapes." + +The King and Queen had her well watched, but all was no use. Next night +she was getting through the woods that surrounded the palace, and she +went on and on that night, and till the evening of next day. She had a +few cakes with her, and she got nuts, and _mugoreens_ (fruit of the +sweet briar), and some sweet crabs, as she went along. At last she came +to a nice wooden house just at sunset. There was a fine garden round it, +full of the handsomest flowers, and a gate in the hedge. She went in, +and saw a table laid out with twelve plates, and twelve knives and +forks, and twelve spoons, and there were cakes, and cold wild fowl, and +fruit along with the plates, and there was a good fire, and in another +long room there were twelve beds. Well, while she was looking about her +she heard the gate opening, and footsteps along the walk, and in came +twelve young men, and there was great grief and surprise on all their +faces when they laid eyes on her. "Oh, what misfortune sent you here?" +said the eldest. "For the sake of a girl we were obliged to leave our +father's court, and be in the shape of wild geese all day. That's twelve +years ago, and we took a solemn oath that we would kill the first young +girl that came into our hands. It's a pity to put such an innocent and +handsome girl as you are out of the world, but we must keep our oath." +"But," said she, "I'm your only sister, that never knew anything about +this till yesterday; and I stole away from our father's and mother's +palace last night to find you out and relieve you if I can." Every one +of them clasped his hands, and looked down on the floor, and you could +hear a pin fall till the eldest cried out, "A curse light on our oath! +what shall we do?" "I'll tell you that," said an old woman that appeared +at the instant among them. "Break your wicked oath, which no one should +keep. If you attempted to lay an uncivil finger on her I'd change you +into twelve _booliaun buis_ (stalks of ragweed), but I wish well to you +as well as to her. She is appointed to be your deliverer in this way. +She must spin and knit twelve shirts for you out of bog-down, to be +gathered by her own hands on the moor just outside of the wood. It will +take her five years to do it, and if she once speaks, or laughs, or +cries the whole time, you will have to remain wild geese by day till +you're called out of the world. So take care of your sister; it is worth +your while." The fairy then vanished, and it was only a strife with the +brothers to see who would be first to kiss and hug their sister. + +So for three long years the poor young princess was occupied pulling +bog-down, spinning it, and knitting it into shirts, and at the end of +the three years she had eight made. During all that time, she never +spoke a word, nor laughed, nor cried: the last was the hardest to +refrain from. One fine day she was sitting in the garden spinning, +when in sprung a fine greyhound and bounded up to her, and laid his +paws on her shoulder, and licked her forehead and her hair. The next +minute a beautiful young prince rode up to the little garden gate, +took off his hat, and asked for leave to come in. She gave him a +little nod, and in he walked. He made ever so many apologies for +intruding, and asked her ever so many questions, but not a word could +he get out of her. He loved her so much from the first moment, that he +could not leave her till he told her he was king of a country just +bordering on the forest, and he begged her to come home with him, and +be his wife. She couldn't help loving him as much as he did her, and +though she shook her head very often, and was very sorry to leave her +brothers, at last she nodded her head, and put her hand in his. She +knew well enough that the good fairy and her brothers would be able to +find her out. Before she went she brought out a basket holding all her +bog-down, and another holding the eight shirts. The attendants took +charge of these, and the prince placed her before him on his horse. +The only thing that disturbed him while riding along was the +displeasure his stepmother would feel at what he had done. However, he +was full master at home, and as soon as he arrived he sent for the +bishop, got his bride nicely dressed, and the marriage was celebrated, +the bride answering by signs. He knew by her manners she was of high +birth, and no two could be fonder of each other. + +The wicked stepmother did all she could to make mischief, saying she +was sure she was only a woodman's daughter; but nothing could disturb +the young king's opinion of his wife. In good time the young queen was +delivered of a beautiful boy, and the king was so glad he hardly knew +what to do for joy. All the grandeur of the christening and the +happiness of the parents tormented the bad woman more than I can tell +you, and she determined to put a stop to all their comfort. She got a +sleeping posset given to the young mother, and while she was thinking +and thinking how she could best make away with the child, she saw a +wicked-looking wolf in the garden, looking up at her, and licking his +chops. She lost no time, but snatched the child from the arms of the +sleeping woman, and pitched it out The beast caught it in his mouth, +and was over the garden fence in a minute. The wicked woman then +pricked her own fingers, and dabbled the blood round the mouth of the +sleeping mother. + +Well, the young king was just then coming into the big bawn from +hunting, and as soon as he entered the house, she beckoned to him, +shed a few crocodile tears, began to cry and wring her hands, and +hurried him along the passage to the bedchamber. + +Oh, wasn't the poor king frightened when he saw the queen's mouth +bloody, and missed his child? It would take two hours to tell you the +devilment of the old queen, the confusion and fright, and grief of the +young king and queen, the bad opinion he began to feel of his wife, +and the struggle she had to keep down her bitter sorrow, and not give +way to it by speaking or lamenting. The young king would not allow any +one to be called, and ordered his stepmother to give out that the +child fell from the mother's arms at the window, and that a wild beast +ran off with it. The wicked woman pretended to do so, but she told +underhand to everybody she spoke to what the king and herself saw in +the bedchamber. + +The young queen was the most unhappy woman in the three kingdoms for a +long time, between sorrow for her child, and her husband's bad +opinion; still she neither spoke nor cried, and she gathered bog-down +and went on with the shirts. Often the twelve wild geese would be seen +lighting on the trees in the park or on the smooth sod, and looking in +at her windows. So she worked on to get the shirts finished, but +another year was at an end, and she had the twelfth shirt finished +except one arm, when she was obliged to take to her bed, and a +beautiful girl was born. + +Now the king was on his guard, and he would not let the mother and +child be left alone for a minute; but the wicked woman bribed some of +the attendants, set others asleep, gave the sleepy posset to the +queen, and had a person watching to snatch the child away, and kill +it. But what should she see but the same wolf in the garden looking up +and licking his chops again? Out went the child, and away with it flew +the wolf, and she smeared the sleeping mother's mouth and face with +blood, and then roared, and bawled, and cried out to the king and to +everybody she met, and the room was filled, and everyone was sure the +young queen had just devoured her own babe. + +The poor mother thought now her life would leave her. She was in such +a state she could neither think nor pray, but she sat like a stone, +and worked away at the arm of the twelfth shirt. + +The king was for taking her to the house in the wood where he found +her, but the stepmother, and the lords of the court, and the judges +would not hear of it, and she was condemned to be burned in the big +bawn at three o'clock the same day. When the hour drew near, the king +went to the farthest part of his palace, and there was no more unhappy +man in his kingdom at that hour. + +When the executioners came and led her off, she took the pile of +shirts in her arms. There was still a few stitches wanted, and while +they were tying her to the stakes she still worked on. At the last +stitch she seemed overcome and dropped a tear on her work, but the +moment after she sprang up, and shouted out, "I am innocent; call my +husband!" The executioners stayed their hands, except one +wicked-disposed creature, who set fire to the faggot next him, and +while all were struck in amaze, there was a rushing of wings, and in a +moment the twelve wild geese were standing around the pile. Before you +could count twelve, she flung a shirt over each bird, and there in the +twinkling of an eye were twelve of the finest young men that could be +collected out of a thousand. While some were untying their sister, the +eldest, taking a strong stake in his hand, struck the busy executioner +such a blow that he never needed another. + +While they were comforting the young queen, and the king was hurrying +to the spot, a fine-looking woman appeared among them holding the babe +on one arm and the little prince by the hand. There was nothing but +crying for joy, and laughing for joy, and hugging and kissing, and +when any one had time to thank the good fairy, who in the shape of a +wolf, carried the child away, she was not to be found. Never was such +happiness enjoyed in any palace that ever was built, and if the wicked +queen and her helpers were not torn by wild horses, they richly +deserved it. + +[Footnote 65: _The Fireside Stories of Ireland_ (Gill & Son, Dublin).] + + + + +THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS. + +PATRICK KENNEDY'S "FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND." + + +There was once a poor widow woman, who had a daughter that was as +handsome as the day, and as lazy as a pig, saving your presence. The +poor mother was the most industrious person in the townland, and was a +particularly good hand at the spinning-wheel. It was the wish of her +heart that her daughter should be as handy as herself; but she'd get +up late, eat her breakfast before she'd finish her prayers, and then +go about dawdling, and anything she handled seemed to be burning her +fingers. She drawled her words as if it was a great trouble to her to +speak, or as if her tongue was as lazy as her body. Many a heart-scald +her poor mother got with her, and still she was only improving like +dead fowl in August. + +Well, one morning that things were as bad as they could be, and the +poor woman was giving tongue at the rate of a mill-clapper, who should +be riding by but the king's son. "Oh dear, oh dear, good woman!" said +he, "you must have a very bad child to make you scold so terribly. +Sure it can't be this handsome girl that vexed you!" "Oh, please your +Majesty, not at all," says the old dissembler. "I was only checking +her for working herself too much. Would your majesty believe it? She +spins three pounds of flax in a day, weaves it into linen the next, +and makes it all into shirts the day after." "My gracious," says the +prince, "she's the very lady that will just fill my mother's eye, and +herself's the greatest spinner in the kingdom. Will you put on your +daughter's bonnet and cloak, if you please, ma'am, and set her behind +me? Why, my mother will be so delighted with her, that perhaps she'll +make her her daughter-in-law in a week, that is, if the young woman +herself is agreeable." + +Well, between the confusion, and the joy, and the fear of being found +out, the women didn't know what to do; and before they could make up +their minds, young Anty (Anastasia) was set behind the prince, and +away he and his attendants went, and a good heavy purse was left +behind with the mother. She _pullillued_ a long time after all was +gone, in dread of something bad happening to the poor girl. + +The prince couldn't judge of the girl's breeding or wit from the few +answers he pulled out of her. The queen was struck in a heap when she +saw a young country girl sitting behind her son, but when she saw her +handsome face, and heard all she could do, she didn't think she could +make too much of her. The prince took an opportunity of whispering her +that if she didn't object to be his wife she must strive to please his +mother. Well, the evening went by, and the prince and Anty were +getting fonder and fonder of one another, but the thought of the +spinning used toe send the cold to her heart every moment. When +bed-time came, the old queen went along with her to a beautiful +bedroom, and when she was bidding her good-night, she pointed to a +heap of fine flax, and said, "You may begin as soon as you like +to-morrow morning, and I'll expect to see these three pounds in nice +thread the morning after." Little did the poor girl sleep that night. +She kept crying and lamenting that she didn't mind her mother's advice +better. When she was left alone next morning, she began with a heavy +heart; and though she had a nice mahogany wheel and the finest flax +you ever saw, the thread was breaking every moment. One while it was +as fine as a cobweb, and the next as coarse as a little boy's +whipcord. At last she pushed her chair back, let her hands fall in her +lap, and burst out a-crying. + +A small, old woman with surprising big feet appeared before her at the +same moment, and said, "What ails you, you handsome colleen?" "An' +haven't I all that flax to spin before to-morrow morning, and I'll never +be able to have even five yards of fine thread of it put together." "An' +would you think bad to ask poor _Colliagh Cushm[=o]r_ (Old woman +Big-foot) to your wedding with the young prince? If you promise me that, +all your three pounds will be made into the finest of thread while +you're taking your sleep to-night." "Indeed, you must be there and +welcome, and I'll honour you all the days of your life." "Very well; +stay in your room till tea-time, and tell the queen she may come in for +her thread as early as she likes to-morrow morning." It was all as she +said; and the thread was finer and evener than the gut you see with +fly-fishers. "My brave girl you were!" says the queen. "I'll get my own +mahogany loom brought into you, but you needn't do anything more to-day. +Work and rest, work and rest, is my motto. To-morrow you'll weave all +this thread, and who knows what may happen?" + +The poor girl was more frightened this time than the last, and she was +so afraid to lose the prince. She didn't even know how to put the warp +in the gears, nor how to use the shuttle, and she was sitting in the +greatest grief, when a little woman, who was mighty well-shouldered +about the hips, all at once appeared to her, told her her name was +_Colliach Cromanm[=o]r_, and made the same bargain with her as +Colliach Cushm[=o]r. Great was the queen's pleasure when she found +early in the morning a web as fine and white as the finest paper you +ever saw. "The darling you were!" says she. "Take your ease with the +ladies and gentlemen to-day, and if your have all this made into nice +shirts to-morrow you may present one of them to my son, and be married +to him out of hand." + +Oh, wouldn't you pity poor Anty the next day, she was now so near the +prince, and, maybe, would be soon so far from him. But she waited as +patiently as she could with scissors, needle, and thread in hand, till +a minute after noon. Then she was rejoiced to see the third old woman +appear. She had a big red nose, and informed Anty that people called +her _Shron Mor Rua_ on that account. She was up to her as good as the +others, for a dozen fine shirts were lying on the table when the queen +paid her an early visit. + +Now there was nothing talked of but the wedding, and I needn't tell +you it was grand. The poor mother was there along with the rest, and +at the dinner the old queen could talk of nothing but the lovely +shirts, and how happy herself and the bride would be after the +honeymoon, spinning, and weaving, and sewing shirts and shifts without +end. The bridegroom didn't like the discourse, and the bride liked it +less, and he was going to say something, when the footman came up to +the head of the table and said to the bride, "Your ladyship's aunt, +Colliach Cushm[=o]r, bade me ask might she come in." The bride blushed +and wished she was seven miles under the floor, but well became the +prince. "Tell Mrs. Cushm[=o]r," said he, "that any relation of my +bride's will be always heartily welcome wherever she and I are." In +came the woman with the big foot, and got a seat near the prince. The +old queen didn't like it much, and after a few words she asked rather +spitefully, "Dear ma'am, what's the reason your foot is so big?" +"_Musha_, faith, your majesty, I was standing almost all my life at +the spinning-wheel, and that's the reason." "I declare to you, my +darling," said the prince, "I'll never allow you to spend one hour at +the same spinning-wheel." The same footman said again, "Your +ladyship's aunt, Colliach Cromanm[=o]r, wishes to come in, if the +genteels and yourself have no objection." Very _sharoose_ (displeased) +was Princess Anty, but the prince sent her welcome, and she took her +seat, and drank healths apiece to the company. "May I ask, ma'am?" +says the old queen, "why you're so wide half-way between the head and +the feet?" "That, your majesty, is owing to sitting all my life at the +loom." "By my sceptre," says the prince, "my wife shall never sit +there an hour." The footman again came up. "Your ladyship's aunt, +Colliach Shron Mor Rua, is asking leave to come into the banquet." +More blushing on the bride's face, but the bridegroom spoke out +cordially, "Tell Mrs. Shron Mor Rua she's doing us an honour." In came +the old woman, and great respect she got near the top of the table, +but the people down low put up their tumblers and glasses to their +noses to hide the grins. "Ma'am," says the old queen, "will you tell +us, if you please, why your nose is so big and red?" "Throth, your +majesty, my head was bent down over the stitching all my life, and all +the blood in my body ran into my nose." "My darling," said the prince +to Anty, "if ever I see a needle in your hand, I'll run a hundred +miles from you." + +"And in troth, girls and boys, though it's a diverting story, I don't +think the moral is good; and if any of you _thuckeens_ go about +imitating Anty in her laziness, you'll find it won't thrive with you as +it did with her. She was beautiful beyond compare, which none of you +are, and she had three powerful fairies to help her besides. There's no +fairies now, and no prince or lord to ride by, and catch you idling or +working; and maybe, after all, the prince and herself were not so very +happy when the cares of the world or old age came on them." + +Thus was the tale ended by poor old _Shebale_ (Sybilla), Father Murphy's +housekeeper, in Coolbawn, Barony of Bantry, about half a century since. + + + + +THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS.[66] + +BY PATRICK KENNEDY. + + +There was once a very worthy king, whose daughter was the greatest +beauty that could be seen far or near, but she was as proud as +Lucifer, and no king or prince would she agree to marry. Her father +was tired out at last, and invited every king, and prince, and duke, +and earl that he knew or didn't know to come to his court to give her +one trial more. They all came, and next day after breakfast they stood +in a row in the lawn, and the princess walked along in the front of +them to make her choice. One was fat, and says she, "I won't have you, +Beer-barrel!" One was tall and thin, and to him she said, "I won't +have you, Ramrod!" To a white-faced man she said, "I won't have you, +Pale Death;" and to a red-cheeked man she said, "I won't have you, +Cockscomb!" She stopped a little before the last of all, for he was a +fine man in face and form. She wanted to find some defect in him, but +he had nothing remarkable but a ring of brown curling hair under his +chin. She admired him a little, and then carried it off with, "I won't +have you, Whiskers!" + +So all went away, and the king was so vexed, he said to her, "Now to +punish your _impudence_, I'll give you to the first beggarman or +singing _sthronshuch_ that calls;" and, as sure as the hearth-money, a +fellow all over-rags, and hair that came to his shoulders, and a bushy +red beard all over his face, came next morning, and began to sing +before the parlour window. + +When the song was over, the hall-door was opened, the singer asked in, +the priest brought, and the princess married to Beardy. She roared and +she bawled, but her father didn't mind her. "There," says he to the +bridegroom, "is five guineas for you. Take your wife out of my sight, +and never let me lay eyes on you or her again." + +Off he led her, and dismal enough she was. The only thing that gave +her relief was the tones of her husband's voice and his genteel +manners. "Whose wood is this?" said she, as they were going through +one. "It belongs to the king you called Whiskers yesterday." He gave +her the same answer about meadows and corn-fields, and at last a fine +city. "Ah, what a fool I was!" said she to herself. "He was a fine +man, and I might have him for a husband." At last they were coming up +to a poor cabin. "Why are you bringing me here?" says the poor lady. +"This was my house," said he, "and now it's yours." She began to cry, +but she was tired and hungry, and she went in with him. + +Ovoch! there was neither a table laid out, nor a fire burning, and she +was obliged to help her husband to light it, and boil their dinner, +and clean up the place after; and next day he made her put on a stuff +gown and a cotton handkerchief. When she had her house readied up, and +no business to keep her employed, he brought home _sallies_ [willows], +peeled them, and showed her how to make baskets. But the hard twigs +bruised her delicate fingers, and she began to cry. Well, then he +asked her to mend their clothes, but the needle drew blood from her +fingers, and she cried again. He couldn't bear to see her tears, so he +bought a creel of earthenware, and sent her to the market to sell +them. This was the hardest trial of all, but she looked so handsome +and sorrowful, and had such a nice air about her, that all her pans, +and jugs, and plates, and dishes were gone before noon, and the only +mark of her old pride she showed was a slap she gave a buckeen across +the face when he _axed_ her to go in an' take share of a quart. + +Well, her husband was so glad, he sent her with another creel the next +day; but faith! her luck was after deserting her. A drunken huntsman +came up riding, and his beast got in among her ware, and made _brishe_ +of every mother's son of 'em. She went home cryin', and her husband +wasn't at all pleased. "I see," said he, "you're not fit for business. +Come along, I'll get you a kitchen-maid's place in the palace. I know +the cook." + +So the poor thing was obliged to stifle her pride once more. She was +kept very busy, and the footman and the butler would be very impudent +about looking for a kiss, but she let a screech out of her the first +attempt was made, and the cook gave the fellow such a lambasting with +the besom that he made no second offer. She went home to her husband +every night, and she carried broken victuals wrapped in papers in her +side pockets. + +A week after she got service there was great bustle in the kitchen. +The king was going to be married, but no one knew who the bride was to +be. Well, in the evening the cook filled the princess's pockets with +cold meat and puddings, and, says she, "Before you go, let us have a +look at the great doings in the big parlour." So they came near the +door to get a peep, and who should come out but the king himself, as +handsome as you please, and no other but King Whiskers himself. "Your +handsome helper must pay for her peeping," said he to the cook, "and +dance a jig with me." Whether she would or no, he held her hand and +brought her into the parlour. The fiddlers struck up, and away went +_him_ with _her_. But they hadn't danced two steps when the meat and +the _puddens_ flew out of her pockets. Every one roared out, and she +flew to the door, crying piteously. But she was soon caught by the +king, and taken into the back parlour. "Don't you know me, my +darling?" said he. "I'm both King Whiskers, your husband the +ballad-singer, and the drunken huntsman. Your father knew me well +enough when he gave you to me, and all was to drive your pride out of +you." Well, she didn't know how she was with fright, and shame, and +joy. Love was uppermost anyhow, for she laid her head on her husband's +breast and cried like a child. The maids-of-honour soon had her away +and dressed her as fine as hands and pins could do it; and there were +her mother and father, too; and while the company were wondering what +end of the handsome girl and the king, he and his queen, _who_ they +didn't know in her fine clothes, and the other king and queen, came +in, and such rejoicings and fine doings as there was, none of us will +ever see, any way. + +[Footnote 66: _Fireside Stories of Ireland._] + + + + +THE ENCHANTMENT OF GEAROIDH IARLA. + +BY PATRICK KENNEDY.[67] + + +In old times in Ireland there was a great man of the Fitzgeralds. The +name on him was Gerald, but the Irish, that always had a great liking +for the family, called him _Gearoidh Iarla_ (Earl Gerald). He had a +great castle or rath at _Mullymast_ (Mullaghmast); and whenever the +English Government were striving to put some wrong on the country, he +was always the man that stood up for it. Along with being a great +leader in a fight, and very skilful at all weapons, he was deep in the +_black art_, and could change himself into whatever shape he pleased. +His lady knew that he had this power, and often asked him to let her +into some of his secrets, but he never would gratify her. + +She wanted particularly to see him in some strange shape, but he put +her off and off on one pretence or other. But she wouldn't be a woman +if she hadn't perseverance; and so at last he let her know that if she +took the least fright while he'd be out of his natural form, he would +never recover it till many generations of men would be under the +mould. "Oh! she wouldn't be a fit wife for Gearoidh Iarla if she could +be easily frightened. Let him but gratify her in this whim, and he'd +see what a hero she was!" So one beautiful summer evening, as they +were sitting in their grand drawing-room, he turned his face away from +her and muttered some words, and while you'd wink he was clever and +clean out of sight, and a lovely _goldfinch_ was flying about the room. + +The lady, as courageous as she thought herself, was a little startled, +but she held her own pretty well, especially when he came and perched +on her shoulder, and shook his wings, and put his little beak to her +lips, and whistled the delightfulest tune you ever heard. Well, he +flew in circles round the room, and played _hide and go seek_ with his +lady, and flew out into the garden, and flew back again, and lay down +in her lap as if he was asleep, and jumped up again. + +Well, when the thing had lasted long enough to satisfy both, he took +one flight more into the open air; but by my word he was soon on his +return. He flew right into his lady's bosom, and the next moment a +fierce hawk was after him. The wife gave one loud scream, though there +was no need, for the wild bird came in like an arrow, and struck +against a table with such force that the life was dashed out of him. +She turned her eyes from his quivering body to where she saw the +goldfinch an instant before, but neither goldfinch nor Earl Gerald did +she ever lay eyes on again. + +Once every seven years the Earl rides round the Curragh of Kildare on +a steed, whose silver shoes were half an inch thick the time he +disappeared; and when these shoes are worn as thin as a cat's ear, he +will be restored to the society of living men, fight a great battle +with the English, and reign king of Ireland for two-score years.[68] + +Himself and his warriors are now sleeping in a long cavern under the +Rath of Mullaghmast. There is a table running along through the middle +of the cave. The Earl is sitting at the head, and his troopers down +along in complete armour both sides of the table, and their heads +resting on it. Their horses, saddled and bridled, are standing behind +their masters in their stalls at each side; and when the day comes, +the miller's son that's to be born with six fingers on each hand, will +blow his trumpet, and the horses will stamp and whinny, and the +knights awake and mount their steeds, and go forth to battle. + +Some night that happens once in every seven years, while the Earl is +riding round the Curragh, the entrance may be seen by any one chancing +to pass by. About a hundred years ago, a horse-dealer that was late +abroad and a little drunk, saw the lighted cavern, and went in. The +lights, and the stillness, and the sight of the men in armour, cowed him +a good deal, and he became sober. His hands began to tremble, and he +let a bridle fall on the pavement. The sound of the bit echoed through +the long cave, and one of the warriors that was next him lifted his head +a little, and said, in a deep hoarse voice, "Is it time yet?" He had the +wit to say, "Not yet, but soon will," and the heavy helmet sunk down on +the table. The horse-dealer made the best of his way out, and I never +heard of any other one having got the same opportunity. + +[Footnote 67: _Legendary Fiction of the Irish Celts._--(Macmillan).] + +[Footnote 68: The last time _Gearoidh Iarla_ appeared the horse-shoes +were as thin as a sixpence.] + + + + +MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR. + +TRANSLATED LITERALLY FROM THE IRISH BY DOUGLAS HYDE. + + +There once lived a Munachar and a Manachar, a long time ago, and it is +a long time since it was, and if they were alive then they would not +be alive now. They went out together to pick raspberries, and as many +as Munachar used to pick Manachar used to eat. Munachar said he must +go look for a rod to make a gad (a withy band) to hang Manachar, who +ate his raspberries every one; and he came to the rod. "God save you," +said the rod. "God and Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going +looking for a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who +ate my raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," said the rod, "until you get an axe to cut me." +He came to the axe. "God save you," said the axe. "God and Mary save +you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for an axe, an axe to +cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my +raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," said the axe, "until you get a flag to edge +me." He came to the flag. "God save you," says the flag. "God and Mary +save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for an axe, axe to +cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my +raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," says the flag, "till you get water to wet me." +He came to the water. "God save you," says the water. "God and Mary +save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for water, water to +wet flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to +hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," said the water, "until you get a deer who will +swim me." He came to the deer. "God save you," says the deer. "God and +Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for a deer, +deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a +rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my +raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," said the deer, "until you get a hound who will +hunt me." He came to the hound. "God save you," says the hound. "God +and Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for a +hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag +to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang +Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," said the hound, "until you get a bit of butter +to put in my claw." He came to the butter. "God save you," says the +butter. "God and Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going +looking for butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, +deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a +rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my +raspberries every one." + +"You will not get me," said the butter, "until you get a cat who shall +scrape me." He came to the cat. "God save you," said the cat. "God and +Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for a cat, cat +to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, +deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a +rod, a rod to make a gad, gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries +every one." + +"You will not get me," said the cat, "until you will get milk which +you will give me." He came to the cow. "God save you," said the cow. +"God and Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for a +cow, cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape +butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to +swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a +rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries +every one." + +"You will not get any milk from me," said the cow, "until you bring me +a whisp of straw from those threshers yonder." He came to the +threshers. "God save you," said the threshers. "God and Mary save ye." +"How far are you going?" "Going looking for a whisp of straw from ye +to give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the +cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to +hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, +axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate +my raspberries every one." + +"You will not get any whisp of straw from us," said the threshers, +"until you bring us the makings of a cake from the miller over +yonder." He came to the miller. "God save you." "God and Mary save +you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for the makings of a +cake, which I will give to the threshers, the threshers to give me a +whisp of straw, the whisp of straw I will give to the cow, the cow to +give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, +butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, +water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a +gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." + +"You will not get any makings of a cake from me," said the miller, +"till you bring me the full of that sieve of water from the river over +there." + +He took the sieve in his hand and went over to the river, but as often +as ever he would stoop and fill it with water, the moment he raised it +the water would run out of it again, and sure, if he had been there +from that day till this, he never could have filled it. A crow went +flying by him, over his head. "Daub! daub!" said the crow. "My soul to +God, then," said Munachar, "but it's the good advice you have," and he +took the red clay and the daub that was by the brink, and he rubbed it +to the bottom of the sieve, until all the holes were filled, and then +the sieve held the water, and he brought the water to the miller, and +the miller gave him the makings of a cake, and he gave the makings of +the cake to the threshers, and the threshers gave him a whisp of +straw, and he gave the whisp of straw to the cow, and the cow gave him +milk, the milk he gave to the cat, the cat scraped the butter, the +butter went into the claw of the hound, the hound hunted the deer, the +deer swam the water, the water wet the flag, the flag sharpened the +axe, the axe cut the rod, and the rod made a gad, and when he had it +ready--I'll go bail that Manachar was far enough away from him. + + There is some tale like this in almost every language. It + resembles that given in that splendid work of industry and + patriotism, Campbell's _Tales of the West Highlands_ under the + name of _Moonachug and Meenachug_. "The English House that Jack + built," says Campbell, "has eleven steps, the Scotch Old Woman + with the Silver Penny has twelve, the Novsk Cock and Hen + A-nutting has twelve, ten of which are double. The German story + in Grimm has five or six, all single ideas." This, however, is + longer than any of them. It sometimes varies a little in the + telling, and the actors' names are sometimes _Suracha_ and + _Muracha_, and the crow is sometimes a gull, who, instead of + _daub! daub!_ says _cuir cré rua lesh!_ + + + + +DONALD AND HIS NEIGHBOURS. + +_From Hibernian Tales._[69] + + +Hudden and Dudden and Donald O'Nery were near neighbours in the barony +of Balinconlig, and ploughed with three bullocks; but the two former, +envying the present prosperity of the latter, determined to kill his +bullock, to prevent his farm being properly cultivated and laboured, +that going back in the world he might be induced to sell his lands, +which they meant to get possession of. Poor Donald finding his bullock +killed, immediately skinned it, and throwing the skin over his +shoulder, with the fleshy side out, set off to the next town with it, +to dispose of it to the best of his advantage. Going along the road a +magpie flew on the top of the hide, and began picking it, chattering +all the time. The bird had been taught to speak, and imitate the human +voice, and Donald, thinking he understood some words it was saying, +put round his hand and caught hold of it. Having got possession of it, +he put it under his greatcoat, and so went on to town. Having sold the +hide, he went into an inn to take a dram, and following the landlady +into the cellar, he gave the bird a squeeze which made it chatter some +broken accents that surprised her very much. "What is that I hear?" +said she to Donald. "I think it is talk, and yet I do not understand." +"Indeed," said Donald, "it is a bird I have that tells me everything, +and I always carry it with me to know when there is any danger. +Faith," says he, "it says you have far better liquor than you are +giving me." "That is strange," said she, going to another cask of +better quality, and asking him if he would sell the bird. "I will," +said Donald, "if I get enough for it." "I will fill your hat with +silver if you leave it with me." Donald was glad to hear the news, and +taking the silver, set off, rejoicing at his good luck. He had not +been long at home until he met with Hudden and Dudden. "Mr.," said he, +"you thought you had done me a bad turn, but you could not have done +me a better; for look here, what I have got for the hide," showing +them a hatful of silver; "you never saw such a demand for hides in +your life as there is at present." Hudden and Dudden that very night +killed their bullocks, and set out the next morning to sell their +hides. On coming to the place they went through all the merchants, but +could only get a trifle for them; at last they had to take what they +could get, and came home in a great rage, and vowing revenge on poor +Donald. He had a pretty good guess how matters would turn out, and he +being under the kitchen window, he was afraid they would rob him, or +perhaps kill him when asleep, and on that account when he was going to +bed he left his old mother in his place, and lay down in her bed, +which was in the other side of the house, and they taking the old +woman for Donald, choked her in her bed, but he making some noise, +they had to retreat, and leave the money behind them, which grieved +them very much. However, by daybreak, Donald got his mother on his +back, and carried her to town. Stopping at a well, he fixed his mother +with her staff, as if she was stooping for a drink, and then went into +a public-house convenient and called for a dram. "I wish," said he to +a woman that stood near him, "you would tell my mother to come in; she +is at yon well trying to get a drink, and she is hard of hearing; if +she does not observe you, give her a little shake and tell her that I +want her." The woman called her several times, but she seemed to take +no notice; at length she went to her and shook her by the arm, but +when she let her go again, she tumbled on her head into the well, and, +as the woman thought, was drowned. She, in her great surprise and fear +at the accident, told Donald what had happened. "O mercy," said he, +"what is this?" He ran and pulled her out of the well, weeping and +lamenting all the time, and acting in such a manner that you would +imagine that he had lost his senses. The woman, on the other hand, was +far worse than Donald, for his grief was only feigned, but she +imagined herself to be the cause of the old woman's death. The +inhabitants of the town hearing what had happened, agreed to make +Donald up a good sum of money for his loss, as the accident happened +in their place, and Donald brought a greater sum home with him than he +got for the magpie. They buried Donald's mother, and as soon as he saw +Hudden he showed them the last purse of money he had got. "You thought +to kill me last night," said he, "but it was good for me it happened +on my mother, for I got all that purse for her to make gunpowder." + +That very night Hudden and Dudden killed their mothers, and the next +morning set off with them to town. On coming to the town with their +burthen on their backs, they went up and down crying, "Who will buy +old wives for gunpowder," so that everyone laughed at them, and the +boys at last clotted them out of the place. They then saw the cheat, +and vowed revenge on Donald, buried the old women, and set off in +pursuit of him. Coming to his house, they found him sitting at his +breakfast, and seizing him, put him in a sack, and went to drown him +in a river at some distance. As they were going along the highway they +raised a hare, which they saw had but three feet, and throwing off the +sack, ran after her, thinking by her appearance she would be easily +taken. In their absence there came a drover that way, and hearing +Donald singing in the sack, wondered greatly what could be the matter. +"What is the reason," said he, "that you are singing, and you +confined?" "O, I am going to heaven," said Donald, "and in a short +time I expect to be free from trouble." "O dear," said the drover, +"what will I give you if you let me to your place?" "Indeed, I do not +know," said he, "it would take a good sum." "I have not much money," +said the drover, "but I have twenty head of fine cattle, which I will +give you to exchange places with me." "Well," says Donald, "I do not +care if I should loose the sack, and I will come out." In a moment the +drover liberated him, and went into the sack himself, and Donald drove +home the fine heifers, and left them in his pasture. + +Hudden and Dudden having caught the hare, returned, and getting the sack +on one of their backs, carried Donald, as they thought, to the river and +threw him in, where he immediately sank. They then marched home, +intending to take immediate possession of Donald's property, but how +great was their surprise when they found him safe at home before them, +with such a fine herd of cattle, whereas they knew he had none before. +"Donald," said they, "what is all this? We thought you were drowned, +and yet you are here before us." "Ah!" said he, "if I had but help along +with me when you threw me in, it would have been the best job ever I met +with, for of all the sight of cattle and gold that ever was seen is +there, and no one to own them, but I was not able to manage more than +what you see, and I could show you the spot where you might get +hundreds." They both swore they would be his friend, and Donald +accordingly led them to a very deep part of the river, and lifted up a +stone. "Now," said he, "watch this," throwing it into the stream; "there +is the very place, and go in, one of you first, and if you want help, +you have nothing to do but call." Hudden jumping in, and sinking to the +bottom, rose up again, and making a bubbling noise, as those do that are +drowning, attempted to speak, but could not. "What is that he is saying +now?" says Dudden. "Faith," says Donald, "he is calling for help; don't +you hear him? Stand about," said he, running back, "till I leap in. I +know how to do it better than any of you." Dudden, to have the advantage +of him, jumped in off the bank, and was drowned along with Hudden, and +this was the end of Hudden and Dudden. + +[Footnote 69: A chap-book mentioned by Thackeray in his _Irish Sketch +Book_.] + + + + +THE JACKDAW. + + +Tom Moor was a linen draper in Sackville Street. His father, when he +died, left him an affluent fortune, and a shop of excellent trade. + +As he was standing at his door one day a countryman came up to him +with a nest of jackdaws, and accosting him, says, "Master, will you +buy a nest of daws?" "No, I don't want any." "Master," replied the +man, "I will sell them all cheap; you shall have the whole nest for +nine-pence." "I don't want them," answered Tom Moor, "so go about your +business." + +As the man was walking away one of the daws popped out his head, and +cried "Mawk, mawk." "Damn it," says Tom Moor, "that bird knows my +name; halloo, countryman, what will you take for the bird?" "Why, you +shall have him for threepence." Tom Moor bought him, had a cage made, +and hung him up in the shop. + +The journeymen took much notice of the bird, and would frequently tap +at the bottom of the cage, and say, "Who are you? Who are you? Tom +Moor of Sackville Street." + +In a short time the jackdaw learned these words, and if he wanted +victuals or water, would strike his bill against the cage, turn up the +white of his eyes, cock his head, and cry, "Who are you? who are you? +Tom Moor of Sackville Street." + +Tom Moor was fond of gaming, and often lost large sums of money; +finding his business neglected in his absence, he had a small hazard +table set up in one corner of his dining-room, and invited a party of +his friends to play at it. + +The jackdaw had by this time become familiar; his cage was left open, +and he hopped into every part of the house; sometimes he got into the +dining-room, where the gentlemen were at play, and one of them being a +constant winner, the others would say, "Damn it, how he nicks them." +The bird learned these words also, and adding them to the former, +would call, "Who are you? who are you? Tom Moor of Sackville Street. +Damn it, how he nicks them." + +Tom Moor, from repeated losses and neglect of business, failed in +trade, and became a prisoner in the Fleet; he took his bird with him, +and lived on the master's side, supported by friends, in a decent +manner. They would sometimes ask what brought you here? when he used +to lift up his hands and answer, "Bad company, by G--." The bird +learned this likewise, and at the end of the former words, would say, +"What brought you here? Bad company, by G--." + +Some of Tom Moor's friends died, others went abroad, and by degrees he +was totally deserted, and removed to the common side of the prison, +where the jail distemper soon attacked him; and in the last stage of +life, lying on a straw bed; the poor bird had been for two days +without food or water, came to his feet, and striking his bill on the +floor, calls out, "Who are you? Tom Moor of Sackville Street; damn it, +how he nicks them, damn it, how he nicks them. What brought you here? +bad company, by G--, bad company, by G--." + +Tom Moor, who had attended to the bird, was struck with his words, and +reflecting on himself, cried out, "Good God, to what a situation am I +reduced! my father, when he died, left me a good fortune and an +established trade. I have spent my fortune, ruined my business, and am +now dying in a loathsome jail; and to complete all, keeping that poor +thing confined without support. I will endeavour to do one piece of +justice before I die, by setting him at liberty." + +He made a struggle to crawl from his straw bed, opened the casement, +and out flew the bird. A flight of jackdaws from the Temple were going +over the jail, and Tom Moor's bird mixed among them. The gardener was +then laying the plats of the Temple gardens, and as often as he placed +them in the day the jackdaws pulled them up by night. They got a gun +and attempted to shoot some of them; but, being cunning birds, they +always placed one as a watch in the stump of a hollow tree; who, as +soon as the gun was levelled cried "Mawk," and away they flew. + +The gardeners were advised to get a net, and the first night it was +spread they caught fifteen; Tom Moor's bird was amongst them. One of +the men took the net into a garret of an uninhabited house, fastens +the doors and windows, and turns the birds loose. "Now," said he, "you +black rascals, I will be revenged of you." Taking hold of the first at +hand, he twists her neck, and throwing him down, cries, "There goes +one." Tom Moor's bird, who had hopped up to a beam at one corner of +the room unobserved, as the man lays hold of the second, calls out, +"Damn it, how he nicks them." The man alarmed, cries, "Sure I heard a +voice, but the house is uninhabited, and the door is fast; it could +only be imagination." On laying hold of the third, and twisting his +neck, Tom's bird again says, "Damn it, how he nicks them." The man +dropped the bird in his hand, and turning to where the voice came +from, seeing the other with his mouth open, cries out, "Who are you?" +to which the bird answered, "Tom Moor of Sackville Street, Tom Moor of +Sackville Street." "The devil you are; and what brought you here." Tom +Moor's bird, lifting up his pinions, answered, "Bad company, by G--, +bad company, by G--." The fellow, frightened almost out of his wits, +opened the door, ran down stairs, and out of the house, followed by +all the birds, who by this means regained their liberty. + + + + +THE STORY OF CONN-EDA; OR, THE GOLDEN APPLES OF LOUGH ERNE.[70] + +_Translated from the original Irish of the Story-teller_, ABRAHAM +MCCOY, _by_ NICHOLAS O'KEARNEY. + + +It was long before the time the western districts of _Innis +Fodhla_[71] had any settled name, but were indiscriminately called +after the person who took possession of them, and whose name they +retained only as long as his sway lasted, that a powerful king reigned +over this part of the sacred island. He was a puissant warrior, and no +individual was found able to compete with him either on land or sea, +or question his right to his conquest. The great king of the west held +uncontrolled sway from the island of Rathlin to the mouth of the +Shannon by sea, and far as the glittering length by land. The ancient +king of the west, whose name was Conn, was good as well as great, and +passionately loved by his people. His queen was a _Breaton_ (British) +princess, and was equally beloved and esteemed, because she was the +great counterpart of the king in every respect; for whatever good +qualification was wanting in the one, the other was certain to +indemnify the omission. It was plainly manifest that heaven approved +of the career in life of the virtuous couple; for during their reign +the earth produced exuberant crops, the trees fruit ninefold +commensurate with their usual bearing, the rivers, lakes, and +surrounding sea teemed with abundance of choice fish, while herds and +flocks were unusually prolific, and kine and sheep yielded such +abundance of rich milk that they shed it in torrents upon the +pastures; and furrows and cavities were always filled with the pure +lacteal produce of the dairy. All these were blessings heaped by +heaven upon the western districts of _Innis Fodhla_, over which the +benignant and just Conn swayed his sceptre, in approbation of the +course of government he had marked out for his own guidance. It is +needless to state that the people who owned the authority of this +great and good sovereign were the happiest on the face of the wide +expanse of earth. It was during his reign, and that of his son and +successor, that Ireland acquired the title of the "happy isle of the +west" among foreign nations. Con Mór and his good Queen Eda reigned in +great glory during many years; they were blessed with an only son, +whom they named Conn-eda, after both his parents, because the Druids +foretold at his birth that he would inherit the good qualities of +both. According as the young prince grew in years, his amiable and +benignant qualities of mind, as well as his great strength of body and +manly bearing, became more manifest. He was the idol of his parents, +and the boast of his people; he was beloved and respected to that +degree that neither prince, lord, nor plebeian swore an oath by the +sun, moon, stars, or elements, except by the head of Conn-eda. This +career of glory, however, was doomed to meet a powerful but temporary +impediment, for the good Queen Eda took a sudden and severe illness, +of which she died in a few days, thus plunging her spouse, her son, +and all her people into a depth of grief and sorrow from which it was +found difficult to relieve them. + +The good king and his subjects mourned the loss of Queen Eda for a year +and a day, and at the expiration of that time Conn Mór reluctantly +yielded to the advice of his Druids and counsellors, and took to wife +the daughter of his Arch-Druid. The new queen appeared to walk in the +footsteps of the good Eda for several years, and gave great satisfaction +to her subjects. But, in course of time, having had several children, +and perceiving that Conn-eda was the favourite son of the king and the +darling of the people, she clearly foresaw that he would become +successor to the throne after the demise of his father, and that her son +would certainly be excluded. This excited the hatred and inflamed the +jealousy of the Druid's daughter against her step-son to such an extent, +that she resolved in her own mind to leave nothing in her power undone +to secure his death, or even exile from the kingdom. She began by +circulating evil reports of the prince; but, as he was above suspicion, +the king only laughed at the weakness of the queen; and the great +princes and chieftains, supported by the people in general, gave an +unqualified contradiction; while the prince himself bore all his trials +with the utmost patience, and always repaid her bad and malicious acts +towards him with good and benevolent ones. The enmity of the queen +towards Conn-eda knew no bounds when she saw that the false reports she +circulated could not injure him. As a last resource, to carry out her +wicked projects, she determined to consult her _Cailleach-chearc_ +(hen-wife), who was a reputed enchantress. + +Pursuant to her resolution, by the early dawn of morning she hied to +the cabin of the _Cailleach-chearc_, and divulged to her the cause of +her trouble. "I cannot render you any help," said the _Cailleach_, +"until you name the _duais_" (reward). "What _duais_ do you require?" +asked the queen, impatiently. "My _duais_," replied the enchantress, +"is to fill the cavity of my arm with wool, and the hole I shall bore +with my distaff with red wheat." "Your _duais_ is granted, and shall +be immediately given you," said the queen. The enchantress thereupon +stood in the door of her hut, and bending her arm into a circle with +her side, directed the royal attendants to thrust the wool into her +house through her arm, and she never permitted them to cease until all +the available space within was filled with wool. She then got on the +roof of her brother's house, and, having made a hole through it with +her distaff, caused red wheat to be spilled through it, until that was +filled up to the roof with red wheat, so that there was no room for +another grain within. "Now," said the queen, "since you have received +your _duais_, tell me how I can accomplish my purpose." "Take this +chess-board and chess, and invite the prince to play with you; you +shall win the first game. The condition you shall make is, that +whoever wins a game shall be at liberty to impose whatever _geasa_ +(conditions) the winner pleases on the loser. When you win, you must +bid the prince, under the penalty either to go into _ionarbadh_ +(exile), or procure for you, within the space of a year and a day, the +three golden apples that grew in the garden, the _each dubh_ (black +steed), and _coileen con na mbuadh_ (hound of supernatural powers), +called Samer, which are in the possession of the king of the Firbolg +race, who resides in Lough Erne.[72] Those two things are so precious, +and so well guarded, that he can never attain them by his own power; +and, if he would rashly attempt to seek them, he should lose his life." + +The queen was greatly pleased at the advice, and lost no time in +inviting Conn-eda to play a game at chess, under the conditions she +had been instructed to arrange by the enchantress. The queen won the +game, as the enchantress foretold, but so great was her anxiety to +have the prince completely in her power, that she was tempted to +challenge him to play a second game, which Conn-eda, to her +astonishment, and no less mortification, easily won. "Now," said the +prince, "since you won the first game, it is your duty to impose your +_geis_ first." "My _geis_" said the queen, "which I impose upon you, +is to procure me the three golden apples that grow in the garden, the +_each dubh_ (black steed), and _cuileen con na mbuadh_ (hound of +supernatural powers), which are in the keeping of the king of the +Firbolgs, in Lough Erne, within the space of a year and a day; or, in +case you fail, to go into _ionarbadh_ (exile), and never return, +except you surrender yourself to lose your head and _comhead beatha_ +(preservation of life)." "Well, then," said the prince, "the _geis_ +which I bind you by, is to sit upon the pinnacle of yonder tower until +my return, and to take neither food nor nourishment of any +description, except what red-wheat you can pick up with the point of +your bodkin; but if I do not return, you are at perfect liberty to +come down at the expiration of the year and a day." + +In consequence of the severe _geis_ imposed upon him, Conn-eda was +very much troubled in mind; and, well knowing he had a long journey to +make before he would reach his destination, immediately prepared to +set out on his way, not, however, before he had the satisfaction of +witnessing the ascent of the queen to the place where she was obliged +to remain exposed to the scorching sun of the summer and the blasting +storms of winter, for the space of one year and a day, at least. +Conn-eda being ignorant of what steps he should take to procure the +_each dubh_ and _cuileen con na mbuadh_, though he was well aware that +human energy would prove unavailing, thought proper to consult the +great Druid, Fionn Dadhna, of Sleabh Badhna, who was a friend of his +before he ventured to proceed to Lough Erne. When he arrived at the +bruighean of the Druid, he was received with cordial friendship, and +the _failte_ (welcome), as usual, was poured out before him, and when +he was seated, warm water was fetched, and his feet bathed, so that +the fatigue he felt after his journey was greatly relieved. The Druid, +after he had partaken of refreshments, consisting of the newest of +food and oldest of liquors, asked him the reason for paying the visit, +and more particularly the cause of his sorrow; for the prince appeared +exceedingly depressed in spirit. Conn-eda told his friend the whole +history of the transaction with his stepmother from the beginning to +end. "Can you not assist me?" asked the Prince, with downcast +countenance. "I cannot, indeed, assist you at present," replied the +Druid; "but I will retire to my _grianan_ (green place) at sun-rising +on the morrow, and learn by virtue of my Druidism what can be done to +assist you." The Druid, accordingly, as the sun rose on the following +morning, retired to his _grianan_, and consulted the god he adored, +through the power of his _draoidheacht_.[73] When he returned, he +called Conn-eda aside on the plain, and addressed him thus: "My dear +son, I find you have been under a severe--an almost impossible--_geis_ +intended for your destruction; no person on earth could have advised +the queen to impose it except the Cailleach of Lough Corrib, who is +the greatest Druidess now in Ireland, and sister to the Firbolg, King +of Lough Erne. It is not in my power, nor in that of the Deity I +adore, to interfere in your behalf; but go directly to Sliabh Mis, and +consult _Eánchinn-duine_ (the bird of the human head), and if there be +any possibility of relieving you, that bird can do it, for there is +not a bird in the western world so celebrated as that bird, because it +knows all things that are past, all things that are present and exist, +and all things that shall hereafter exist. It is difficult to find +access to his place of concealment, and more difficult still to obtain +an answer from him; but I will endeavour to regulate that matter for +you; and that is all I can do for you at present." + +The Arch-Druid then instructed him thus:--"Take," said he, "yonder +little shaggy steed, and mount him immediately, for in three days the +bird will make himself visible, and the little shaggy steed will conduct +you to his place of abode. But lest the bird should refuse to reply to +your queries, take this precious stone (_leag lorgmhar_), and present it +to him, and then little danger and doubt exist but that he will give you +a ready answer." The prince returned heartfelt thanks to the Druid, and, +having saddled and mounted the little shaggy horse without much delay, +received the precious stone from the Druid, and, after having taken his +leave of him, set out on his journey. He suffered the reins to fall +loose upon the neck of the horse according as he had been instructed, so +that the animal took whatever road he chose. + +It would be tedious to relate the numerous adventures he had with the +little shaggy horse, which had the extraordinary gift of speech, and +was a _draoidheacht_ horse during his journey. + +The Prince having reached the hiding-place of the strange bird at the +appointed time, and having presented him with the _leag lorgmhar_, +according to Fionn Badhna's instructions, and proposed his questions +relative to the manner he could best arrange for the fulfilment of his +_geis_, the bird took up in his mouth the jewel from the stone on +which it was placed, and flew to an inaccessible rock at some +distance, and, when there perched, he thus addressed the prince, +"Conn-eda, son of the King of Cruachan," said he, in a loud, croaking +human voice, "remove the stone just under your right foot, and take +the ball of iron and _corna_ (cup) you shall find under it; then mount +your horse, cast the ball before you, and having so done, your horse +will tell you all the other things necessary to be done." The bird, +having said this, immediately flew out of sight. + +Conn-eda took great care to do everything according to the +instructions of the bird. He found the iron ball and _corna_ in the +place which had been pointed out. He took them up, mounted his horse, +and cast the ball before him. The ball rolled on at a regular gait, +while the little shaggy horse followed on the way it led until they +reached the margin of Lough Erne. Here the ball rolled in the water +and became invisible. "Alight now," said the _draoidheacht_ pony, "and +put your hand into mine ear; take from thence the small bottle of +_íce_ (all-heal) and the little wicker basket which you will find +there, and remount with speed, for just now your great dangers and +difficulties commence." Conn-eda, ever faithful to the kind advice of +his _draoidheacht_ pony, did what he had been advised. Having taken +the basket and bottle of _íce_ from the animal's ear, he remounted and +proceeded on his journey, while the water of the lake appeared only +like an atmosphere above his head. When he entered the lake the ball +again appeared, and rolled along until it came to the margin, across +which was a causeway, guarded by three frightful serpents; the +hissings of the monsters was heard at a great distance, while, on a +nearer approach, their yawning mouths and formidable fangs were quite +sufficient to terrify the stoutest heart. "Now," said the horse, "open +the basket and cast a piece of the meat you find in it into the mouth +of each serpent; when you have done this, secure yourself in your seat +in the best manner you can, so that we may make all due arrangements +to pass those _draoidheacht peists_. If you cast the pieces of meat +into the mouth of each _peist_ unerringly, we shall pass them safely, +otherwise we are lost." Conn-eda flung the pieces of meat into the +jaws of the serpents with unerring aim. "Bare a benison and victory," +said the _draoidheacht_ steed, "for you are a youth that will win and +prosper." And, on saying these words, he sprang aloft, and cleared in +his leap the river and ford, guarded by the serpents, seven measures +beyond the margin. "Are you still mounted, prince Conn-eda?" said the +steed. "It has taken only half my exertion to remain so," replied +Conn-eda. "I find," said the pony, "that you are a young prince that +deserves to succeed; one danger is now over, but two others remain." +They proceeded onwards after the ball until they came in view of a +great mountain flaming with fire. "Hold yourself in readiness for +another dangerous leap," said the horse. The trembling prince had no +answer to make, but seated himself as securely as the magnitude of the +danger before him would permit. The horse in the next instant sprang +from the earth, and flew like an arrow over the burning mountain. "Are +you still alive, Conn-eda, son of Conn-mór?" inquired the faithful +horse. "I'm just alive, and no more, for I'm greatly scorched," +answered the prince. "Since you are yet alive, I feel assured that you +are a young man destined to meet supernatural success and benisons," +said the Druidic steed. "Our greatest dangers are over," added he, +"and there is hope that we shall overcome the next and last danger." +After they had proceeded a short distance, his faithful steed, +addressing Conn-eda, said, "Alight, now, and apply a portion of the +little bottle of _íce_ to your wounds." The prince immediately +followed the advice of his monitor, and, as soon as he rubbed the +_íce_ (all-heal) to his wounds, he became as whole and fresh as ever +he had been before. After having done this, Conn-eda remounted, and +following the track of the ball, soon came in sight of a great city +surrounded by high walls. The only gate that was visible was not +defended by armed men, but by two great towers that emitted flames +that could be seen at a great distance. "Alight on this plain," said +the steed, "and take a small knife from my other ear; and with this +knife you shall kill and flay me. When you have done this, envelop +yourself in my hide, and you can pass the gate unscathed and +unmolested. When you get inside you can come out at pleasure; because +when once you enter there is no danger, and you can pass and repass +whenever you wish; and let me tell you that all I have to ask of you +in return is that you, when once inside the gates, will immediately +return and drive away the birds of prey that may be fluttering round +to feed on my carcass; and more, that you will pour any drop of that +powerful _íce_, if such still remain in the bottle, upon my flesh, to +preserve it from corruption. When you do this in memory of me, if it +be not too troublesome, dig a pit, and cast my remains into it." + +"Well," said Conn-eda, "my noblest steed, because you have been so +faithful to me hitherto, and because you still would have rendered me +further service, I consider such a proposal insulting to my feelings +as a man, and totally in variance with the spirit which can feel the +value of gratitude, not to speak of my feelings as a prince. But as a +prince I am able to say, Come what may--come death itself in its most +hideous forms and terrors--I never will sacrifice private friendship +to personal interest. Hence, I am, I swear by my arms of valour, +prepared to meet the worst--even death itself--sooner than violate the +principles of humanity, honour, and friendship! What a sacrifice do +you propose!" "Pshaw, man! heed not that; do what I advise you, and +prosper." "Never! never!" exclaimed the prince. "Well, then, son of +the great western monarch," said the horse, with a tone of sorrow, "if +you do not follow my advice on this occasion, I tell you that both you +and I shall perish, and shall never meet again; but, if you act as I +have instructed you, matters shall assume a happier and more pleasing +aspect than you may imagine. I have not misled you heretofore, and, if +I have not, what need have you to doubt the most important portion of +my counsel? Do exactly as I have directed you, else you will cause a +worse fate than death to befall me. And, moreover, I can tell you +that, if you persist in your resolution, I have done with you for ever." + +When the prince found that his noble steed could not be persuaded from +his purpose, he took the knife out of his ear with reluctance, and +with a faltering and trembling hand essayed experimentally to point +the weapon at his throat. Conn-eda's eyes were bathed in tears; but no +sooner had he pointed the Druidic _scian_ to the throat of his good +steed, than the dagger, as if impelled by some Druidic power, stuck in +his neck, and in an instant the work of death was done, and the noble +animal fell dead at his feet. When the prince saw his noble steed fall +dead by his hand, he cast himself on the ground, and cried aloud until +his consciousness was gone. When he recovered, he perceived that the +steed was quite dead; and, as he thought there was no hope of +resuscitating him, he considered it the most prudent course he could +adopt to act according to the advice he had given him. After many +misgivings of mind and abundant showers of tears, he essayed the task +of flaying him, which was only that of a few minutes. When he found he +had the hide separated from the body, he, in the derangement of the +moment, enveloped himself in it, and proceeding towards the +magnificent city in rather a demented state of mind, entered it +without any molestation or opposition. It was a surprisingly populous +city, and an extremely wealthy place; but its beauty, magnificence, +and wealth had no charms for Conn-eda, because the thoughts of the +loss he sustained in his dear steed were paramount to those of all +other earthly considerations. + +He had scarcely proceeded more than fifty paces from the gate, when +the last request of his beloved _draoidheacht_ steed forced itself +upon his mind, and compelled him to return to perform the last solemn +injunctions upon him. When he came to the spot upon which the remains +of his beloved _draoidheacht_ steed lay, an appalling sight presented +itself; ravens and other carnivorous birds of prey were tearing and +devouring the flesh of his dear steed. It was but short work to put +them to flight; and having uncorked his little jar of _íce_, he deemed +it a labour of love to embalm the now mangled remains with the +precious ointment. The potent _íce_ had scarcely touched the inanimate +flesh, when, to the surprise of Conn-eda, it commenced to undergo some +strange change, and in a few minutes, to his unspeakable astonishment +and joy, it assumed the form of one of the handsomest and noblest +young men imaginable, and in the twinkling of an eye the prince was +locked in his embrace, smothering him with kisses, and drowning him +with tears of joy. When one recovered from his ecstasy of joy, the +other from his surprise, the strange youth thus addressed the prince: +"Most noble and puissant prince, you are the best sight I ever saw +with my eyes, and I am the most fortunate being in existence for +having met you! Behold in my person, changed to the natural shape, +your little shaggy _draoidheacht_ steed! I am brother of the king of +the city; and it was the wicked Druid, Fionn Badhna, who kept me so +long in bondage; but he was forced to give me up when you came to +_consult_ him, for my _geis_ was then broken; yet I could not recover +my pristine shape and appearance unless you had acted as you have +kindly done. It was my own sister that urged the queen, your +stepmother, to send you in quest of the steed and powerful puppy +hound, which my brother has now in keeping. My sister, rest assured, +had no thought of doing you the least injury, but much good, as you +will find hereafter; because, if she were maliciously inclined towards +you, she could have accomplished her end without any trouble. In +short, she only wanted to free you from all future danger and +disaster, and recover me from my relentless enemies through your +instrumentality. Come with me, my friend and deliverer, and the steed +and the puppy-hound of extraordinary powers, and the golden apples, +shall be yours, and a cordial welcome shall greet you in my brother's +abode; for you will deserve all this and much more." + +The exciting joy felt on the occasion was mutual, and they lost no +time in idle congratulations, but proceeded on to the royal residence +of the King of Lough Erne. Here they were both received with +demonstrations of joy by the king and his chieftains; and, when the +purpose of Conn-eda's visit became known to the king, he gave a free +consent to bestow on Conn-eda the black steed, the _coileen +con-na-mbuadh_, called Samer, and the three apples of health that were +growing in his garden, under the special condition, however, that he +would consent to remain as his guest until he could set out on his +journey in proper time, to fulfil his _geis_. Conn-eda, at the earnest +solicitation of his friends, consented, and remained in the royal +residence of the Firbolg, King of Lough Erne, in the enjoyment of the +most delicious and fascinating pleasures during that period. + +When the time of his departure came, the three golden apples were +plucked from the crystal tree in the midst of the pleasure-garden, and +deposited in his bosom; the puppy-hound, Samer, was leashed, and the +leash put into his hand; and the black steed, richly harnessed, was +got in readiness for him to mount. The king himself helped him on +horseback, and both he and his brother assured him that he might not +fear burning mountains or hissing serpents, because none would impede +him, as his steed was always a passport to and from his subaqueous +kingdom. And both he and his brother extorted a promise from Conn-eda, +that he would visit them once every year at least. + +Conn-eda took leave of his dear friend, and the king his brother. The +parting was a tender one, soured by regret on both sides. He proceeded +on his way without meeting anything to obstruct him, and in due time +came in sight of the _dún_ of his father, where the queen had been +placed on the pinnacle of the tower, in full hope that, as it was the +last day of her imprisonment there, the prince would not make his +appearance, and thereby forfeit all pretensions and right to the crown +of his father for ever. But her hopes were doomed to meet a +disappointment, for when it had been announced to her by her couriers, +who had been posted to watch the arrival of the prince, that he +approached, she was incredulous; but when she saw him mounted on a +foaming black steed, richly harnessed, and leading a strange kind of +animal by a silver chain, she at once knew he was returning in +triumph, and that her schemes laid for his destruction were +frustrated. In the excess of grief at her disappointment, she cast +herself from the top of the tower, and was instantly dashed to pieces. +Conn-eda met a welcome reception from his father, who mourned him as +lost to him for ever, during his absence; and, when the base conduct +of the queen became known, the king and his chieftains ordered her +remains to be consumed to ashes for her perfidy and wickedness. + +Conn-eda planted the three golden apples in his garden, and instantly +a great tree, bearing similar fruit, sprang up. This tree caused all +the district to produce an exuberance of crops and fruits, so that it +became as fertile and plentiful as the dominions of the Firbolgs, in +consequence of the extraordinary powers possessed by the golden fruit. +The hound Samer and the steed were of the utmost utility to him; and +his reign was long and prosperous, and celebrated among the old people +for the great abundance of corn, fruit, milk, fowl, and fish that +prevailed during this happy reign. It was after the name Conn-eda the +province of Connaucht, or _Conneda_, or _Connacht_, was so called. + +[Footnote 70: Printed first in the _Cambrian Journal_, 1855; reprinted +and re-edited in the _Folk-Lore Record_, vol. ii.] + +[Footnote 71: _Innis Fodhla_--Island of Destiny, an old name for +Ireland.] + +[Footnote 72: The Firbolgs believed their elysium to be under water. +The peasantry still believe many lakes to be peopled.--See section on +_T'yeer na n-Oge_.] + +[Footnote 73: _Draoidheacht_, _i.e._, the Druidic worship; magic, +sorcery, divination.] + + + + +NOTES. + + +GODS OF THE EARTH.--Par. 2, Page 2. + +Occultists, from Paracelsus to Elephas Levi, divide the nature spirits +into gnomes, sylphs, salamanders, undines; or earth, air, fire, and +water spirits. Their emperors, according to Elephas, are named Cob, +Paralda, Djin, Hicks respectively. The gnomes are covetous, and of the +melancholic temperament. Their usual height is but two spans, though +they can elongate themselves into giants. The sylphs are capricious, +and of the bilious temperament. They are in size and strength much +greater than men, as becomes the people of the winds. The salamanders +are wrathful, and in temperament sanguine. In appearance they are +long, lean, and dry. The undines are soft, cold, fickle, and +phlegmatic. In appearance they are like man. The salamanders and +sylphs have no fixed dwellings. + +It has been held by many that somewhere out of the void there is a +perpetual dribble of souls; that these souls pass through many shapes +before they incarnate as men--hence the nature spirits. They are +invisible--except at rare moments and times; they inhabit the interior +elements, while we live upon the outer and the gross. Some float +perpetually through space, and the motion of the planets drives them +hither and thither in currents. Hence some Rosicrucians have thought +astrology may foretell many things; for a tide of them flowing around +the earth arouses there, emotions and changes, according to its nature. + +Besides those of human appearance are many animal and bird-like +shapes. It has been noticed that from these latter entirely come the +familiars seen by Indian braves when they go fasting in the forest, +seeking the instruction of the spirits. Though all at times are +friendly to men--to some men--"They have," says Paracelsus, "an +aversion to self-conceited and opinionated persons, such as +dogmatists, scientists, drunkards, and gluttons, and against vulgar +and quarrelsome people of all kinds; but they love natural men, who +are simple-minded and childlike, innocent and sincere, and the less +there is of vanity and hypocrisy in a man, the easier will it be to +approach them; but otherwise they are as shy as wild animals." + + +SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON.--Pages 13 and 38. + +Many in Ireland consider Sir Samuel Ferguson their greatest poet. The +English reader will most likely never have heard his name, for +Anglo-Irish critics, who have found English audience, being more Anglo +than Irish, have been content to follow English opinion instead of +leading it, in all matters concerning Ireland. + + +CUSHEEN LOO.--Page 33. + +Forts, otherwise raths or royalties, are circular ditches enclosing a +little field, where, in most cases, if you dig down you come to stone +chambers, their bee-hive roofs and walls made of unmortared stone. In +these little fields the ancient Celts fortified themselves and their +cattle, in winter retreating into the stone chambers, where also they +were buried. The people call them Dane's forts, from a misunderstanding +of the word Dan[=a]n (Tuath-de-Dan[=a]n). The fairies have taken up +their abode therein, guarding them from all disturbance. Whoever roots +them up soon finds his cattle falling sick, or his family or himself. +Near the raths are sometimes found flint arrow-heads; these are called +"fairy darts," and are supposed to have been flung by the fairies, when +angry, at men or cattle. + + +LEGEND OF KNOCKGRAFTON.--Page 40. + +Moat does not mean a place with water, but a tumulus or barrow. The +words _Da Luan Da Mort agus Da Dardeen_ are Gaelic for "Monday, +Tuesday, and Wednesday too." Da Hena is Thursday. Story-tellers, in +telling this tale, says Croker, sing these words to the following +music--according to Croker, music of very ancient kind:-- + +[Music: + + Da Lu-an, da Mort, da Lu-an, da Mort, da + Lu-an, da Mort, au-gus da Dar-dine. Da Lu-an, da Mort, da + Lu-an, da Mort, da Lu-an, da Mort, au-gus da Dar-dine. + +] + +Mr. Douglas Hyde has heard the story in Connaught, with the song of +the fairy given as "Peean Peean daw feean, Peean go leh agus leffin" +[_pighin, pighin, dà phighin, pighin go ieith agus leith phighin_], +which in English means, "a penny, a penny, twopence, a penny and a +half, and a halfpenny." + + +STOLEN CHILD.--Page 59. + +The places mentioned are round about Sligo. Further Rosses is a very +noted fairy locality. There is here a little point of rocks where, if +anyone falls asleep, there is danger of their waking silly, the +fairies having carried off their souls. + + +SOLITARY FAIRIES.--Page 80. + +The trooping fairies wear green jackets, the solitary ones red. On the +red jacket of the Lepracaun, according to McAnally, are seven rows of +buttons--seven buttons in each row. On the western coast, he says, the +red jacket is covered by a frieze one, and in Ulster the creature +wears a cocked hat, and when he is up to anything unusually +mischievous, leaps on to a wall and spins, balancing himself on the +point of the hat with his heels in the air. McAnally tells how once a +peasant saw a battle between the green jacket fairies and the red. +When the green jackets began to win, so delighted was he to see the +green above the red, he gave a great shout. In a moment all vanished +and he was flung into the ditch. + + +BANSHEE'S CRY.--Page 108. + +Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall give the following notation of the cry:-- + +[Music] + + +OMENS.--Page 108. + +We have other omens beside the Banshee and the Dullahan and the +Coach-a-Bower. I know one family where death is announced by the +cracking of a whip. Some families are attended by phantoms of ravens +or other birds. When McManus, of '48 celebrity, was sitting by his +dying brother, a bird of vulture-like appearance came through the +window and lighted on the breast of the dying man. The two watched in +terror, not daring to drive it off. It crouched there, bright-eyed, +till the soul left the body. It was considered a most evil omen. +Lefanu worked this into a tale. I have good authority for tracing its +origin to McManus and his brother. + + +A WITCH TRIAL.--Page 146. + +The last trial for witchcraft in Ireland--there were never very +many--is thus given in MacSkimin's _History of Carrickfergus_:--"1711, +March 31st, Janet Mean, of Braid-island; Janet Latimer, Irish-quarter, +Carrickfergus; Janet Millar, Scotch-quarter, Carrickfergus; Margaret +Mitchel, Kilroot; Catharine M'Calmond, Janet Liston, alias Seller, +Elizabeth Seller, and Janet Carson, the four last from Island Magee, +were tried here, in the County of Antrim Court, for witchcraft." + +Their alleged crime was tormenting a young woman, called Mary Dunbar, +about eighteen years of age, at the house of James Hattridge, Island +Magee, and at other places to which she was removed. The circumstances +sworn on the trial were as follows:-- + +"The afflicted person being, in the month of February, 1711, in the +house of James Hattridge, Island Magee (which had been for some time +believed to be haunted by evil spirits), found an apron on the parlour +floor, that had been missing some time, tied with _five strange +knots_, which she loosened. + +"On the following day she was suddenly seized with a violent pain in +her thigh, and afterwards fell into fits and ravings; and, on +recovering, said she was tormented by several women, whose dress and +personal appearance she minutely described. Shortly after, she was +again seized with the like fits, and on recovering she accused five +other women of tormenting her, describing them also. The accused +persons being brought from different parts of the country, she +appeared to suffer extreme fear and additional torture as they +approached the house. + +"It was also deposed that strange noises, as of whistling, scratching, +etc., were heard in the house, and that a sulphureous smell was +observed in the rooms; that stones, turf, and the like were thrown +about the house, and the coverlets, etc., frequently taken off the +beds and made up in the shape of a corpse; and that a bolster once +walked out of a room into the kitchen with a night-gown about it! It +likewise appeared in evidence that in some of her fits three strong +men were scarcely able to hold her in the bed; that at times she +vomited feathers, cotton yarn, pins, and buttons; and that on one +occasion she slid off the bed and was laid on the floor, as if +supported and drawn by an invincible power. The afflicted person was +unable to give any evidence on the trial, being during that time dumb, +but had no violent fit during its continuance." + +In defence of the accused, it appeared that they were mostly sober, +industrious people, who attended public worship, could repeat the +Lord's Prayer, and had been known to pray both in public and private; +and that some of them had lately received communion. + +Judge Upton charged the jury, and observed on the regular attendance +of accused at public worship; remarking that he thought it improbable +that real witches could so far retain the form of religion as to +frequent the religious worship of God, both publicly and privately, +which had been proved in favour of the accused. He concluded by giving +his opinion "that the jury could not bring them in guilty upon the +sole testimony of the afflicted person's visionary images." He was +followed by Judge Macarthy, who differed from him in opinion, "and +thought the jury might, from the evidence, bring them in guilty," +which they accordingly did. + +This trial lasted from six o'clock in the morning till two in the +afternoon; and the prisoners were sentenced to be imprisoned twelve +months, and to stand four times in the pillory of Carrickfergus. + +Tradition says that the people were much exasperated against these +unfortunate persons, who were severely pelted in the pillory with +boiled cabbage stalks and the like, by which one of them had an eye +beaten out. + + +T'YEER-NA-N-OGE.--Page 200. + +"_Tir-na-n-óg_," Mr. Douglas Hyde writes, "'The Country of the Young,' +is the place where the Irish peasant will tell you _geabhaedh tu an +sonas aer pighin_, 'you will get happiness for a penny,' so cheap and +common it will be. It is sometimes, but not often, called +_Tir-na-hóige_; the 'Land of Youth.' Crofton Croker writes it, +_Thierna-na-noge_, which is an unfortunate mistake of his, _Thierna_ +meaning a lord, not a country. This unlucky blunder is, like many +others of the same sort where Irish words are concerned, in danger of +becoming stereotyped, as the name of Iona has been, from mere clerical +carelessness." + + +THE GONCONER OR GANCANAGH [GEAN-CANACH].--Page 207. + +O'Kearney, a Louthman, deeply versed in Irish lore, writes of the +_gean-c[=a]nach_ (love-talker) that he is "another diminutive being of +the same tribe as the Lepracaun, but, unlike him, he personated love +and idleness, and always appeared with a dudeen in his jaw in lonesome +valleys, and it was his custom to make love to shepherdesses and +milk-maids. It was considered very unlucky to meet him, and whoever +was known to have ruined his fortune by devotion to the fair sex was +said to have met a _gean-c[=a]nach_. The dudeen, or ancient Irish +tobacco pipe, found in our raths, etc., is still popularly called a +_gean-canach's_ pipe." + +The word is not to be found in dictionaries, nor does this spirit +appear to be well known, if known at all, in Connacht. The word is +pronounced _gánconâgh_. + +In the MS. marked R.I.A. 23/E. 13 in the Roy' Ir. Ac., there is a long +poem describing such a fairy hurling-match as the one in the story, +only the fairies described as the _shiagh_, or host, wore plaids and +bonnets, like Highlanders. After the hurling the fairies have a hunt, +in which the poet takes part, and they swept with great rapidity +through half Ireland. The poem ends with the line-- + + "_'S gur shiubhail me na cûig cúig cûige's gan fúm acht buachallân + buidhe_;" + +"and I had travelled the five provinces with nothing under me but a +yellow bohalawn (rag-weed)."--[_Note by Mr. Douglas Hyde._] + + +FATHER JOHN O'HART.--Page 220. + +Father O'Rorke is the priest of the parishes of Ballysadare and +Kilvarnet, and it is from his learnedly and faithfully and +sympathetically written history of these parishes that I have taken +the story of Father John, who had been priest of these parishes, dying +in the year 1739. Coloony is a village in Kilvarnet. + +Some sayings of Father John's have come down. Once when he was +sorrowing greatly for the death of his brother, the people said to +him, "Why do you sorrow so for your brother when you forbid us to +keen?" "Nature," he answered, "forces me, but ye force nature." His +memory and influence survives, in the fact that to the present day +there has been no keening in Coloony. + +He was a friend of the celebrated poet and musician, Carolan. + + +SHONEEN AND SLEIVEEN.--Page 220. + +_Shoneen_ is the diminutive of _shone_ [Ir. _Seón_]. There are two +Irish names for John--one is _Shone_, the other is _Shawn_ [Ir. +_Seághan_]. Shone is the "grandest" of the two, and is applied to the +gentry. Hence _Shoneen_ means "a little gentry John," and is applied +to upstarts and "big" farmers, who ape the rank of gentleman. + +_Sleiveen_, not to be found in the dictionaries, is a comical Irish +word (at least in Connaught) for a rogue. It probably comes from +_sliabh_, a mountain, meaning primarily a mountaineer, and in a +secondary sense, on the principle that mountaineers are worse than +anybody else, a rogue. I am indebted to Mr. Douglas Hyde for these +details, as for many others. + + +DEMON CAT.--Page 229. + +In Ireland one hears much of Demon Cats. The father of one of the +present editors of the _Fortnightly_ had such a cat, say county Dublin +peasantry. One day the priest dined with him, and objecting to see a +cat fed before Christians, said something over it that made it go up +the chimney in a flame of fire. "I will have the law on you for doing +such a thing to my cat," said the father of the editor. "Would you +like to see your cat?" said the priest. "I would," said he, and the +priest brought it up, covered with chains, through the hearth-rug, +straight out of hell. The Irish devil does not object to these +undignified shapes. The Irish devil is not a dignified person. He has +no whiff of sulphureous majesty about him. A centaur of the +ragamuffin, jeering and shaking his tatters, at once the butt and +terror of the saints! + + +A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY.--Page 266. + +Carleton says--"Of the grey stone mentioned in this legend, there is a +very striking and melancholy anecdote to be told. Some twelve or +thirteen years ago, a gentleman in the vicinity of the site of it was +building a house, and, in defiance of the legend and curse connected +with it, he resolved to break it up and use it. It was with some +difficulty, however, that he could succeed in getting his labourers to +have anything to do with its mutilation. Two men, however, undertook +to blast it, but, somehow, the process of ignition being mismanaged, +it exploded prematurely, and one of them was killed. This coincidence +was held as a fulfilment of the curse mentioned in the legend. I have +heard that it remains in that mutilated state to the present day, no +other person being found who had the hardihood to touch it. This +stone, before it was disfigured, exactly resembled that which the +country people term a miscaun of butter, which is precisely the shape +of a complete prism, a circumstance, no doubt, which, in the fertile +imagination of the old Senachies, gave rise to the superstition +annexed to it." + + +SOME AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLK-LORE. + +Croker's _Legends of the South of Ireland_. Lady Wilde's _Ancient +Legends of Ireland_. Sir William Wilde's _Irish Popular +Superstitions_. McAnally's _Irish Wonders_. _Irish Folk-Lore_, by +Lageniensis. Lover's _Legends and Stories of the Irish Peasantry_. +Patrick Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts_, _Banks of +the Boro_, _Legends of Mount Leinster_, and _Banks of the Duffrey_; +Carlton's _Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry_; and the +chap-books, _Royal Fairy Tales_, _Hibernian Tales_, and _Tales of the +Fairies_. Besides these there are many books on general subjects, +containing stray folk-lore, such as Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall's +_Ireland_; Lady Chatterton's _Rambles in the South of Ireland_; Gerald +Griffin's _Tales of a Jury-room_; and the _Leadbeater Papers_. For +banshee stories see Barrington's _Recollections_ and Miss Lefanu's +_Memoirs of my Grandmother_. In O'Donovan's introduction to the _Four +Masters_ are several tales. The principal magazine articles are in the +_Dublin and London Magazine_ for 1825-1828 (Sir William Wilde calls +this the best collection of Irish folk-lore in existence); and in the +_Dublin University Magazine_ for 1839 and 1878, those in '78 being by +Miss Maclintock. The _Folk-Lore Journal_ and the _Folk-Lore Record_ +contain much Irish folk-lore, as also do the _Ossianic Society's_ +publications and the proceedings of the _Kilkenny Archæological +Society_. Old Irish magazines, such as the _Penny Journal_, _Newry +Magazine_, and _Duffy's Sixpenny Magazine_ and _Hibernian Magazine_, +have much scattered through them. Among the peasantry are immense +quantities of ungathered legends and beliefs. + + + + + THE WALTER SCOTT PUBLISHING CO., LTD., FELLING-ON-TYNE + + + + +Transcriber's Note + + + * Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired. + + * Footnotes have been moved to the end of the respective story. + + * Due to large amount, footnotes listed numerically. + + * Conn-eda and Conneda; horse-shoe, horse-shoes, and horseshoe; + and Lu-an and Luan retained as printed. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish +Peasantry, by William Butler Yeats + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY AND FOLK TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 33887-8.txt or 33887-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/8/8/33887/ + +Produced by Larry B. 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