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+Project Gutenberg's Celtic Fairy Tales, by Joseph Jacobs (coll. & ed.)
+
+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: Celtic Fairy Tales
+
+Author: Joseph Jacobs (coll. & ed.)
+
+Posting Date: February 4, 2010 [EBook #7885]
+Release Date: April, 2005
+First Posted: May 30, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CELTIC FAIRY TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Delphine Lettau, Charles Franks, and the people
+at Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CELTIC FAIRY TALES
+
+
+
+_SELECTED AND EDITED BY_
+
+JOSEPH JACOBS
+
+
+
+_SAY THIS
+
+Three times, with your eyes shut_
+
+Mothuighim boladh an Eireannaigh bhinn bhreugaigh faoi m'fhoidin
+duthaigh.
+
+_And you will see
+
+What you will see_
+
+
+
+_TO ALFRED NUTT_
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+Last year, in giving the young ones a volume of English Fairy Tales, my
+difficulty was one of collection. This time, in offering them specimens
+of the rich folk-fancy of the Celts of these islands, my trouble has
+rather been one of selection. Ireland began to collect her folk-tales
+almost as early as any country in Europe, and Croker has found a whole
+school of successors in Carleton, Griffin, Kennedy, Curtin, and Douglas
+Hyde. Scotland had the great name of Campbell, and has still efficient
+followers in MacDougall, MacInnes, Carmichael, Macleod, and Campbell of
+Tiree. Gallant little Wales has no name to rank alongside these; in
+this department the Cymru have shown less vigour than the Gaedhel.
+Perhaps the Eisteddfod, by offering prizes for the collection of Welsh
+folk-tales, may remove this inferiority. Meanwhile Wales must be
+content to be somewhat scantily represented among the Fairy Tales of
+the Celts, while the extinct Cornish tongue has only contributed one
+tale.
+
+In making my selection I have chiefly tried to make the stories
+characteristic. It would have been easy, especially from Kennedy, to
+have made up a volume entirely filled with "Grimm's Goblins" _a la
+Celtique_. But one can have too much even of that very good thing, and
+I have therefore avoided as far as possible the more familiar
+"formulae" of folk-tale literature. To do this I had to withdraw from
+the English-speaking Pale both in Scotland and Ireland, and I laid down
+the rule to include only tales that have been taken down from Celtic
+peasants ignorant of English.
+
+Having laid down the rule, I immediately proceeded to break it. The
+success of a fairy book, I am convinced, depends on the due admixture
+of the comic and the romantic: Grimm and Asbjoernsen knew this secret,
+and they alone. But the Celtic peasant who speaks Gaelic takes the
+pleasure of telling tales somewhat sadly: so far as he has been printed
+and translated, I found him, to my surprise, conspicuously lacking in
+humour. For the comic relief of this volume I have therefore had to
+turn mainly to the Irish peasant of the Pale; and what richer source
+could I draw from?
+
+For the more romantic tales I have depended on the Gaelic, and, as I
+know about as much of Gaelic as an Irish Nationalist M. P., I have had
+to depend on translators. But I have felt myself more at liberty than
+the translators themselves, who have generally been over-literal, in
+changing, excising, or modifying the original. I have even gone
+further. In order that the tales should be characteristically Celtic, I
+have paid more particular attention to tales that are to be found on
+both sides of the North Channel.
+
+In re-telling them I have had no scruple in interpolating now and then
+a Scotch incident into an Irish variant of the same story, or _vice
+versa_. Where the translators appealed to English folklorists and
+scholars, I am trying to attract English children. They translated; I
+endeavoured to transfer. In short, I have tried to put myself into the
+position of an _ollamh_ or _sheenachie_ familiar with both forms of
+Gaelic, and anxious to put his stories in the best way to attract
+English children. I trust I shall be forgiven by Celtic scholars for
+the changes I have had to make to effect this end.
+
+The stories collected in this volume are longer and more detailed than
+the English ones I brought together last Christmas. The romantic ones
+are certainly more romantic, and the comic ones perhaps more comic,
+though there may be room for a difference of opinion on this latter
+point. This superiority of the Celtic folk-tales is due as much to the
+conditions under which they have been collected, as to any innate
+superiority of the folk-imagination. The folk-tale in England is in the
+last stages of exhaustion. The Celtic folk-tales have been collected
+while the practice of story-telling is still in full vigour, though
+there are every signs that its term of life is already numbered. The
+more the reason why they should be collected and put on record while
+there is yet time. On the whole, the industry of the collectors of
+Celtic folk-lore is to be commended, as may be seen from the survey of
+it I have prefixed to the Notes and References at the end of the
+volume. Among these, I would call attention to the study of the legend
+of Beth Gellert, the origin of which, I believe, I have settled.
+
+While I have endeavoured to render the language of the tales simple and
+free from bookish artifice, I have not felt at liberty to retell the
+tales in the English way. I have not scrupled to retain a Celtic turn
+of speech, and here and there a Celtic word, which I have _not_
+explained within brackets--a practice to be abhorred of all good men. A
+few words unknown to the reader only add effectiveness and local colour
+to a narrative, as Mr. Kipling well knows.
+
+One characteristic of the Celtic folk-lore I have endeavoured to
+represent in my selection, because it is nearly unique at the present
+day in Europe. Nowhere else is there so large and consistent a body of
+oral tradition about the national and mythical heroes as amongst the
+Gaels. Only the _byline_, or hero-songs of Russia, equal in extent the
+amount of knowledge about the heroes of the past that still exists
+among the Gaelic-speaking peasantry of Scotland and Ireland. And the
+Irish tales and ballads have this peculiarity, that some of them have
+been extant, and can be traced, for well nigh a thousand years. I have
+selected as a specimen of this class the Story of Deirdre, collected
+among the Scotch peasantry a few years ago, into which I have been able
+to insert a passage taken from an Irish vellum of the twelfth century.
+I could have more than filled this volume with similar oral traditions
+about Finn (the Fingal of Macpherson's "Ossian"). But the story of
+Finn, as told by the Gaelic peasantry of to-day, deserves a volume by
+itself, while the adventures of the Ultonian hero, Cuchulain, could
+easily fill another.
+
+I have endeavoured to include in this volume the best and most typical
+stories told by the chief masters of the Celtic folk-tale, Campbell,
+Kennedy, Hyde, and Curtin, and to these I have added the best tales
+scattered elsewhere. By this means I hope I have put together a volume,
+containing both the best, and the best known folk-tales of the Celts. I
+have only been enabled to do this by the courtesy of those who owned
+the copyright of these stories. Lady Wilde has kindly granted me the
+use of her effective version of "The Horned Women;" and I have
+specially to thank Messrs. Macmillan for right to use Kennedy's
+"Legendary Fictions," and Messrs. Sampson Low & Co., for the use of Mr.
+Curtin's Tales.
+
+In making my selection, and in all doubtful points of treatment, I have
+had resource to the wide knowledge of my friend Mr. Alfred Nutt in all
+branches of Celtic folk-lore. If this volume does anything to represent
+to English children the vision and colour, the magic and charm, of the
+Celtic folk-imagination, this is due in large measure to the care with
+which Mr. Nutt has watched its inception and progress. With him by my
+side I could venture into regions where the non-Celt wanders at his own
+risk.
+
+Lastly, I have again to rejoice in the co-operation of my friend, Mr.
+J. D. Batten, in giving form to the creations of the folk-fancy. He has
+endeavoured in his illustrations to retain as much as possible of
+Celtic ornamentation; for all details of Celtic archaeology he has
+authority. Yet both he and I have striven to give Celtic things as they
+appear to, and attract, the English mind, rather than attempt the
+hopeless task of representing them as they are to Celts. The fate of
+the Celt in the British Empire bids fair to resemble that of the Greeks
+among the Romans. "They went forth to battle, but they always fell,"
+yet the captive Celt has enslaved his captor in the realm of
+imagination. The present volume attempts to begin the pleasant
+captivity from the earliest years. If it could succeed in giving a
+common fund of imaginative wealth to the Celtic and the Saxon children
+of these isles, it might do more for a true union of hearts than all
+your politics.
+
+JOSEPH JACOBS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+     I.  CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN
+    II.  GULEESH
+   III.  THE FIELD OF BOLIAUNS
+    IV.  THE HORNED WOMEN
+     V.  CONAL YELLOWCLAW
+    VI.  HUDDEN AND DUDDEN AND DONALD O'NEARY
+   VII.  THE SHEPHERD OF MYDDVAI
+  VIII.  THE SPRIGHTLY TAILOR
+    IX.  THE STORY OF DEIRDRE
+     X.  MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR
+    XI.  GOLD-TREE AND SILVER-TREE
+   XII.  KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE
+  XIII.  THE WOOING OF OLWEN
+   XIV.  JACK AND HIS COMRADES
+    XV.  THE SHEE AN GANNON AND THE GRUAGACH GAIRE
+   XVI.  THE STORY-TELLER AT FAULT
+  XVII.  THE SEA-MAIDEN
+ XVIII.  A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY
+   XIX.  FAIR, BROWN, AND TREMBLING
+    XX.  JACK AND HIS MASTER
+   XXI.  BETH GELLERT
+  XXII.  THE TALE OF IVAN
+ XXIII.  ANDREW COFFEY
+  XXIV.  THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS
+   XXV.  BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS
+  XXVI.  THE LAD WITH THE GOAT-SKIN
+
+
+NOTES AND REFERENCES
+
+
+
+
+CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN
+
+Connla of the Fiery Hair was son of Conn of the Hundred Fights. One day
+as he stood by the side of his father on the height of Usna, he saw a
+maiden clad in strange attire coming towards him.
+
+"Whence comest thou, maiden?" said Connla.
+
+"I come from the Plains of the Ever Living," she said, "there where
+there is neither death nor sin. There we keep holiday alway, nor need
+we help from any in our joy. And in all our pleasure we have no strife.
+And because we have our homes in the round green hills, men call us the
+Hill Folk."
+
+The king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when they saw
+no one. For save Connla alone, none saw the Fairy Maiden.
+
+"To whom art thou talking, my son?" said Conn the king.
+
+Then the maiden answered, "Connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whom
+neither death nor old age awaits. I love Connla, and now I call him
+away to the Plain of Pleasure, Moy Mell, where Boadag is king for aye,
+nor has there been complaint or sorrow in that land since he has held
+the kingship. Oh, come with me, Connla of the Fiery Hair, ruddy as the
+dawn with thy tawny skin. A fairy crown awaits thee to grace thy comely
+face and royal form. Come, and never shall thy comeliness fade, nor thy
+youth, till the last awful day of judgment."
+
+The king in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though he
+could not see her, called aloud to his Druid, Coran by name.
+
+"Oh, Coran of the many spells," he said, "and of the cunning magic, I
+call upon thy aid. A task is upon me too great for all my skill and
+wit, greater than any laid upon me since I seized the kingship. A
+maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear,
+my comely son. If thou help not, he will be taken from thy king by
+woman's wiles and witchery."
+
+Then Coran the Druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards the
+spot where the maiden's voice had been heard. And none heard her voice
+again, nor could Connla see her longer. Only as she vanished before the
+Druid's mighty spell, she threw an apple to Connla.
+
+For a whole month from that day Connla would take nothing, either to
+eat or to drink, save only from that apple. But as he ate it grew again
+and always kept whole. And all the while there grew within him a mighty
+yearning and longing after the maiden he had seen.
+
+But when the last day of the month of waiting came, Connla stood by the
+side of the king his father on the Plain of Arcomin, and again he saw
+the maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him.
+
+"'Tis a glorious place, forsooth, that Connla holds among short-lived
+mortals awaiting the day of death. But now the folk of life, the
+ever-living ones, beg and bid thee come to Moy Mell, the Plain of
+Pleasure, for they have learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thy home
+among thy dear ones."
+
+When Conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his men aloud
+and said:
+
+"Summon swift my Druid Coran, for I see she has again this day the
+power of speech."
+
+Then the maiden said: "Oh, mighty Conn, fighter of a hundred fights,
+the Druid's power is little loved; it has little honour in the mighty
+land, peopled with so many of the upright. When the Law will come, it
+will do away with the Druid's magic spells that come from the lips of
+the false black demon."
+
+Then Conn the king observed that since the maiden came, Connla his son
+spoke to none that spake to him. So Conn of the hundred fights said to
+him, "Is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son?"
+
+"'Tis hard upon me," then said Connla; "I love my own folk above all
+things; but yet, but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden."
+
+When the maiden heard this, she answered and said "The ocean is not so
+strong as the waves of thy longing. Come with me in my curragh, the
+gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. Soon we can reach Boadag's
+realm. I see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we can reach it
+before dark. There is, too, another land worthy of thy journey, a land
+joyous to all that seek it. Only wives and maidens dwell there. If thou
+wilt, we can seek it and live there alone together in joy."
+
+When the maiden ceased to speak, Connla of the Fiery Hair rushed away
+from them and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding
+crystal canoe. And then they all, king and court, saw it glide away
+over the bright sea towards the setting sun. Away and away, till eye
+could see it no longer, and Connla and the Fairy Maiden went their way
+on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did any know where they came.
+
+
+
+
+GULEESH
+
+There was once a boy in the County Mayo; Guleesh was his name. There
+was the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house, and
+he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grass bank
+that was running round it. One night he stood, half leaning against the
+gable of the house, and looking up into the sky, and watching the
+beautiful white moon over his head. After he had been standing that way
+for a couple of hours, he said to himself: "My bitter grief that I am
+not gone away out of this place altogether. I'd sooner be any place in
+the world than here. Och, it's well for you, white moon," says he,
+"that's turning round, turning round, as you please yourself, and no
+man can put you back. I wish I was the same as you."
+
+Hardly was the word out of his mouth when he heard a great noise coming
+like the sound of many people running together, and talking, and
+laughing, and making sport, and the sound went by him like a whirl of
+wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath. "Musha, by my
+soul," says he, "but ye're merry enough, and I'll follow ye."
+
+What was in it but the fairy host, though he did not know at first that
+it was they who were in it, but he followed them into the rath. It's
+there he heard the _fulparnee_, and the _folpornee_, the
+_rap-lay-hoota_, and the _roolya-boolya_, that they had there, and
+every man of them crying out as loud as he could: "My horse, and
+bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!"
+
+"By my hand," said Guleesh, "my boy, that's not bad. I'll imitate ye,"
+and he cried out as well as they: "My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My
+horse, and bridle, and saddle!" And on the moment there was a fine
+horse with a bridle of gold, and a saddle of silver, standing before
+him. He leaped up on it, and the moment he was on its back he saw
+clearly that the rath was full of horses, and of little people going
+riding on them.
+
+Said a man of them to him: "Are you coming with us to-night, Guleesh?"
+
+"I am surely," said Guleesh.
+
+"If you are, come along," said the little man, and out they went all
+together, riding like the wind, faster than the fastest horse ever you
+saw a-hunting, and faster than the fox and the hounds at his tail.
+
+The cold winter's wind that was before them, they overtook her, and the
+cold winter's wind that was behind them, she did not overtake them. And
+stop nor stay of that full race, did they make none, until they came to
+the brink of the sea.
+
+Then every one of them said: "Hie over cap! Hie over cap!" and that
+moment they were up in the air, and before Guleesh had time to remember
+where he was, they were down on dry land again, and were going like the
+wind.
+
+At last they stood still, and a man of them said to Guleesh: "Guleesh,
+do you know where you are now?"
+
+"Not a know," says Guleesh.
+
+"You're in France, Guleesh," said he. "The daughter of the king of
+France is to be married to-night, the handsomest woman that the sun
+ever saw, and we must do our best to bring her with us; if we're only
+able to carry her off; and you must come with us that we may be able to
+put the young girl up behind you on the horse, when we'll be bringing
+her away, for it's not lawful for us to put her sitting behind
+ourselves. But you're flesh and blood, and she can take a good grip of
+you, so that she won't fall off the horse. Are you satisfied, Guleesh,
+and will you do what we're telling you?"
+
+"Why shouldn't I be satisfied?" said Guleesh. "I'm satisfied, surely,
+and anything that ye will tell me to do I'll do it without doubt."
+
+They got off their horses there, and a man of them said a word that
+Guleesh did not understand, and on the moment they were lifted up, and
+Guleesh found himself and his companions in the palace. There was a
+great feast going on there, and there was not a nobleman or a gentleman
+in the kingdom but was gathered there, dressed in silk and satin, and
+gold and silver, and the night was as bright as the day with all the
+lamps and candles that were lit, and Guleesh had to shut his two eyes
+at the brightness. When he opened them again and looked from him, he
+thought he never saw anything as fine as all he saw there. There were a
+hundred tables spread out, and their full of meat and drink on each
+table of them, flesh-meat, and cakes and sweetmeats, and wine and ale,
+and every drink that ever a man saw. The musicians were at the two ends
+of the hall, and they were playing the sweetest music that ever a man's
+ear heard, and there were young women and fine youths in the middle of
+the hall, dancing and turning, and going round so quickly and so
+lightly, that it put a _soorawn_ in Guleesh's head to be looking at
+them. There were more there playing tricks, and more making fun and
+laughing, for such a feast as there was that day had not been in France
+for twenty years, because the old king had no children alive but only
+the one daughter, and she was to be married to the son of another king
+that night. Three days the feast was going on, and the third night she
+was to be married, and that was the night that Guleesh and the
+sheehogues came, hoping, if they could, to carry off with them the
+king's young daughter.
+
+Guleesh and his companions were standing together at the head of the
+hall, where there was a fine altar dressed up, and two bishops behind
+it waiting to marry the girl, as soon as the right time should come.
+Now nobody could see the sheehogues, for they said a word as they came
+in, that made them all invisible, as if they had not been in it at all.
+
+"Tell me which of them is the king's daughter," said Guleesh, when he
+was becoming a little used to the noise and the light.
+
+"Don't you see her there away from you?" said the little man that he
+was talking to.
+
+Guleesh looked where the little man was pointing with his finger, and
+there he saw the loveliest woman that was, he thought, upon the ridge
+of the world. The rose and the lily were fighting together in her face,
+and one could not tell which of them got the victory. Her arms and
+hands were like the lime, her mouth as red as a strawberry when it is
+ripe, her foot was as small and as light as another one's hand, her
+form was smooth and slender, and her hair was falling down from her
+head in buckles of gold. Her garments and dress were woven with gold
+and silver, and the bright stone that was in the ring on her hand was
+as shining as the sun.
+
+Guleesh was nearly blinded with all the loveliness and beauty that was
+in her; but when he looked again, he saw that she was crying, and that
+there was the trace of tears in her eyes. "It can't be," said Guleesh,
+"that there's grief on her, when everybody round her is so full of
+sport and merriment."
+
+"Musha, then, she is grieved," said the little man; "for it's against
+her own will she's marrying, and she has no love for the husband she is
+to marry. The king was going to give her to him three years ago, when
+she was only fifteen, but she said she was too young, and requested him
+to leave her as she was yet. The king gave her a year's grace, and when
+that year was up he gave her another year's grace, and then another;
+but a week or a day he would not give her longer, and she is eighteen
+years old to-night, and it's time for her to marry; but, indeed," says
+he, and he crooked his mouth in an ugly way--"indeed, it's no king's
+son she'll marry, if I can help it."
+
+Guleesh pitied the handsome young lady greatly when he heard that, and
+he was heart-broken to think that it would be necessary for her to
+marry a man she did not like, or, what was worse, to take a nasty
+sheehogue for a husband. However, he did not say a word, though he
+could not help giving many a curse to the ill-luck that was laid out
+for himself, to be helping the people that were to snatch her away from
+her home and from her father.
+
+He began thinking, then, what it was he ought to do to save her, but he
+could think of nothing. "Oh! if I could only give her some help and
+relief," said he, "I wouldn't care whether I were alive or dead; but I
+see nothing that I can do for her."
+
+He was looking on when the king's son came up to her and asked her for
+a kiss, but she turned her head away from him. Guleesh had double pity
+for her then, when he saw the lad taking her by the soft white hand,
+and drawing her out to dance. They went round in the dance near where
+Guleesh was, and he could plainly see that there were tears in her eyes.
+
+When the dancing was over, the old king, her father, and her mother the
+queen, came up and said that this was the right time to marry her, that
+the bishop was ready, and it was time to put the wedding-ring on her
+and give her to her husband.
+
+The king took the youth by the hand, and the queen took her daughter,
+and they went up together to the altar, with the lords and great people
+following them.
+
+When they came near the altar, and were no more than about four yards
+from it, the little sheehogue stretched out his foot before the girl,
+and she fell. Before she was able to rise again he threw something that
+was in his hand upon her, said a couple of words, and upon the moment
+the maiden was gone from amongst them. Nobody could see her, for that
+word made her invisible. The little man_een_ seized her and raised her
+up behind Guleesh, and the king nor no one else saw them, but out with
+them through the hall till they came to the door.
+
+Oro! dear Mary! it's there the pity was, and the trouble, and the
+crying, and the wonder, and the searching, and the _rookawn_, when that
+lady disappeared from their eyes, and without their seeing what did it.
+Out of the door of the palace they went, without being stopped or
+hindered, for nobody saw them, and, "My horse, my bridle, and saddle!"
+says every man of them. "My horse, my bridle, and saddle!" says
+Guleesh; and on the moment the horse was standing ready caparisoned
+before him. "Now, jump up, Guleesh," said the little man, "and put the
+lady behind you, and we will be going; the morning is not far off from
+us now."
+
+Guleesh raised her up on the horse's back, and leaped up himself before
+her, and, "Rise, horse," said he; and his horse, and the other horses
+with him, went in a full race until they came to the sea.
+
+"Hie over cap!" said every man of them.
+
+"Hie over cap!" said Guleesh; and on the moment the horse rose under
+him, and cut a leap in the clouds, and came down in Erin.
+
+They did not stop there, but went of a race to the place where was
+Guleesh's house and the rath. And when they came as far as that,
+Guleesh turned and caught the young girl in his two arms, and leaped
+off the horse.
+
+"I call and cross you to myself, in the name of God!" said he; and on
+the spot, before the word was out of his mouth, the horse fell down,
+and what was in it but the beam of a plough, of which they had made a
+horse; and every other horse they had, it was that way they made it.
+Some of them were riding on an old besom, and some on a broken stick,
+and more on a bohalawn or a hemlock-stalk.
+
+The good people called out together when they heard what Guleesh said:
+
+"Oh! Guleesh, you clown, you thief, that no good may happen you, why
+did you play that trick on us?"
+
+But they had no power at all to carry off the girl, after Guleesh had
+consecrated her to himself.
+
+"Oh! Guleesh, isn't that a nice turn you did us, and we so kind to you?
+What good have we now out of our journey to France. Never mind yet, you
+clown, but you'll pay us another time for this. Believe us, you'll
+repent it."
+
+"He'll have no good to get out of the young girl," said the little man
+that was talking to him in the palace before that, and as he said the
+word he moved over to her and struck her a slap on the side of the
+head. "Now," says he, "she'll be without talk any more; now, Guleesh,
+what good will she be to you when she'll be dumb? It's time for us to
+go--but you'll remember us, Guleesh!"
+
+When he said that he stretched out his two hands, and before Guleesh
+was able to give an answer, he and the rest of them were gone into the
+rath out of his sight, and he saw them no more.
+
+He turned to the young woman and said to her: "Thanks be to God,
+they're gone. Would you not sooner stay with me than with them?" She
+gave him no answer. "There's trouble and grief on her yet," said
+Guleesh in his own mind, and he spoke to her again: "I am afraid that
+you must spend this night in my father's house, lady, and if there is
+anything that I can do for you, tell me, and I'll be your servant."
+
+The beautiful girl remained silent, but there were tears in her eyes,
+and her face was white and red after each other.
+
+"Lady," said Guleesh, "tell me what you would like me to do now. I
+never belonged at all to that lot of sheehogues who carried you away
+with them. I am the son of an honest farmer, and I went with them
+without knowing it. If I'll be able to send you back to your father
+I'll do it, and I pray you make any use of me now that you may wish."
+
+He looked into her face, and he saw the mouth moving as if she was
+going to speak, but there came no word from it.
+
+"It cannot be," said Guleesh, "that you are dumb. Did I not hear you
+speaking to the king's son in the palace to-night? Or has that devil
+made you really dumb, when he struck his nasty hand on your jaw?"
+
+The girl raised her white smooth hand, and laid her finger on her
+tongue, to show him that she had lost her voice and power of speech,
+and the tears ran out of her two eyes like streams, and Guleesh's own
+eyes were not dry, for as rough as he was on the outside he had a soft
+heart, and could not stand the sight of the young girl, and she in that
+unhappy plight.
+
+He began thinking with himself what he ought to do, and he did not like
+to bring her home with himself to his father's house, for he knew well
+that they would not believe him, that he had been in France and brought
+back with him the king of France's daughter, and he was afraid they
+might make a mock of the young lady or insult her.
+
+As he was doubting what he ought to do, and hesitating, he chanced to
+remember the priest. "Glory be to God," said he, "I know now what I'll
+do; I'll bring her to the priest's house, and he won't refuse me to
+keep the lady and care for her." He turned to the lady again and told
+her that he was loth to take her to his father's house, but that there
+was an excellent priest very friendly to himself, who would take good
+care of her, if she wished to remain in his house; but that if there
+was any other place she would rather go, he said he would bring her to
+it.
+
+She bent her head, to show him she was obliged, and gave him to
+understand that she was ready to follow him any place he was going. "We
+will go to the priest's house, then," said he; "he is under an
+obligation to me, and will do anything I ask him."
+
+They went together accordingly to the priest's house, and the sun was
+just rising when they came to the door. Guleesh beat it hard, and as
+early as it was the priest was up, and opened the door himself. He
+wondered when he saw Guleesh and the girl, for he was certain that it
+was coming wanting to be married they were.
+
+"Guleesh, Guleesh, isn't it the nice boy you are that you can't wait
+till ten o'clock or till twelve, but that you must be coming to me at
+this hour, looking for marriage, you and your sweetheart? You ought to
+know that I can't marry you at such a time, or, at all events, can't
+marry you lawfully. But ubbubboo!" said he, suddenly, as he looked
+again at the young girl, "in the name of God, who have you here? Who is
+she, or how did you get her?"
+
+"Father," said Guleesh, "you can marry me, or anybody else, if you
+wish; but it's not looking for marriage I came to you now, but to ask
+you, if you please, to give a lodging in your house to this young lady."
+
+The priest looked at him as though he had ten heads on him; but without
+putting any other question to him, he desired him to come in, himself
+and the maiden, and when they came in, he shut the door, brought them
+into the parlour, and put them sitting.
+
+"Now, Guleesh," said he, "tell me truly who is this young lady, and
+whether you're out of your senses really, or are only making a joke of
+me."
+
+"I'm not telling a word of lie, nor making a joke of you," said
+Guleesh; "but it was from the palace of the king of France I carried
+off this lady, and she is the daughter of the king of France."
+
+He began his story then, and told the whole to the priest, and the
+priest was so much surprised that he could not help calling out at
+times, or clapping his hands together.
+
+When Guleesh said from what he saw he thought the girl was not
+satisfied with the marriage that was going to take place in the palace
+before he and the sheehogues broke it up, there came a red blush into
+the girl's cheek, and he was more certain than ever that she had sooner
+be as she was--badly as she was--than be the married wife of the man
+she hated. When Guleesh said that he would be very thankful to the
+priest if he would keep her in his own house, the kind man said he
+would do that as long as Guleesh pleased, but that he did not know what
+they ought to do with her, because they had no means of sending her
+back to her father again.
+
+Guleesh answered that he was uneasy about the same thing, and that he
+saw nothing to do but to keep quiet until they should find some
+opportunity of doing something better. They made it up then between
+themselves that the priest should let on that it was his brother's
+daughter he had, who was come on a visit to him from another county,
+and that he should tell everybody that she was dumb, and do his best to
+keep every one away from her. They told the young girl what it was they
+intended to do, and she showed by her eyes that she was obliged to them.
+
+Guleesh went home then, and when his people asked him where he had
+been, he said that he had been asleep at the foot of the ditch, and had
+passed the night there.
+
+There was great wonderment on the priest's neighbours at the girl who
+came so suddenly to his house without any one knowing where she was
+from, or what business she had there. Some of the people said that
+everything was not as it ought to be, and others, that Guleesh was not
+like the same man that was in it before, and that it was a great story,
+how he was drawing every day to the priest's house, and that the priest
+had a wish and a respect for him, a thing they could not clear up at
+all.
+
+That was true for them, indeed, for it was seldom the day went by but
+Guleesh would go to the priest's house, and have a talk with him, and
+as often as he would come he used to hope to find the young lady well
+again, and with leave to speak; but, alas! she remained dumb and
+silent, without relief or cure. Since she had no other means of
+talking, she carried on a sort of conversation between herself and
+himself, by moving her hand and fingers, winking her eyes, opening and
+shutting her mouth, laughing or smiling, and a thousand other signs, so
+that it was not long until they understood each other very well.
+Guleesh was always thinking how he should send her back to her father;
+but there was no one to go with her, and he himself did not know what
+road to go, for he had never been out of his own country before the
+night he brought her away with him. Nor had the priest any better
+knowledge than he; but when Guleesh asked him, he wrote three or four
+letters to the king of France, and gave them to buyers and sellers of
+wares, who used to be going from place to place across the sea; but
+they all went astray, and never a one came to the king's hand.
+
+This was the way they were for many months, and Guleesh was falling
+deeper and deeper in love with her every day, and it was plain to
+himself and the priest that she liked him. The boy feared greatly at
+last, lest the king should really hear where his daughter was, and take
+her back from himself, and he besought the priest to write no more, but
+to leave the matter to God.
+
+So they passed the time for a year, until there came a day when Guleesh
+was lying by himself, on the grass, on the last day of the last month
+in autumn, and he was thinking over again in his own mind of everything
+that happened to him from the day that he went with the sheehogues
+across the sea. He remembered then, suddenly, that it was one November
+night that he was standing at the gable of the house, when the
+whirlwind came, and the sheehogues in it, and he said to himself: "We
+have November night again to-day, and I'll stand in the same place I
+was last year, until I see if the good people come again. Perhaps I
+might see or hear something that would be useful to me, and might bring
+back her talk again to Mary"--that was the name himself and the priest
+called the king's daughter, for neither of them knew her right name. He
+told his intention to the priest, and the priest gave him his blessing.
+
+Guleesh accordingly went to the old rath when the night was darkening,
+and he stood with his bent elbow leaning on a grey old flag, waiting
+till the middle of the night should come. The moon rose slowly; and it
+was like a knob of fire behind him; and there was a white fog which was
+raised up over the fields of grass and all damp places, through the
+coolness of the night after a great heat in the day. The night was calm
+as is a lake when there is not a breath of wind to move a wave on it,
+and there was no sound to be heard but the _cronawn_ of the insects
+that would go by from time to time, or the hoarse sudden scream of the
+wild-geese, as they passed from lake to lake, half a mile up in the air
+over his head; or the sharp whistle of the golden and green plover,
+rising and lying, lying and rising, as they do on a calm night. There
+were a thousand thousand bright stars shining over his head, and there
+was a little frost out, which left the grass under his foot white and
+crisp.
+
+He stood there for an hour, for two hours, for three hours, and the
+frost increased greatly, so that he heard the breaking of the
+_traneens_ under his foot as often as he moved. He was thinking, in his
+own mind, at last, that the sheehogues would not come that night, and
+that it was as good for him to return back again, when he heard a sound
+far away from him, coming towards him, and he recognised what it was at
+the first moment. The sound increased, and at first it was like the
+beating of waves on a stony shore, and then it was like the falling of
+a great waterfall, and at last it was like a loud storm in the tops of
+the trees, and then the whirlwind burst into the rath of one rout, and
+the sheehogues were in it.
+
+It all went by him so suddenly that he lost his breath with it, but he
+came to himself on the spot, and put an ear on himself, listening to
+what they would say.
+
+Scarcely had they gathered into the rath till they all began shouting,
+and screaming, and talking amongst themselves; and then each one of
+them cried out: "My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and
+bridle, and saddle!" and Guleesh took courage, and called out as loudly
+as any of them: "My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and
+bridle, and saddle!" But before the word was well out of his mouth,
+another man cried out: "Ora! Guleesh, my boy, are you here with us
+again? How are you getting on with your woman? There's no use in your
+calling for your horse to-night. I'll go bail you won't play such a
+trick on us again. It was a good trick you played on us last year?"
+
+"It was," said another man; "he won't do it again."
+
+"Isn't he a prime lad, the same lad! to take a woman with him that
+never said as much to him as, 'How do you do?' since this time last
+year!" says the third man.
+
+"Perhaps be likes to be looking at her," said another voice.
+
+"And if the _omadawn_ only knew that there's an herb growing up by his
+own door, and if he were to boil it and give it to her, she'd be well,"
+said another voice.
+
+"That's true for you."
+
+"He is an omadawn."
+
+"Don't bother your head with him; we'll be going."
+
+"We'll leave the _bodach_ as he is."
+
+And with that they rose up into the air, and out with them with one
+_roolya-boolya_ the way they came; and they left poor Guleesh standing
+where they found him, and the two eyes going out of his head, looking
+after them and wondering.
+
+He did not stand long till he returned back, and he thinking in his own
+mind on all he saw and heard, and wondering whether there was really an
+herb at his own door that would bring back the talk to the king's
+daughter. "It can't be," says he to himself, "that they would tell it
+to me, if there was any virtue in it; but perhaps the sheehogue didn't
+observe himself when he let the word slip out of his mouth. I'll search
+well as soon as the sun rises, whether there's any plant growing beside
+the house except thistles and dockings."
+
+He went home, and as tired as he was he did not sleep a wink until the
+sun rose on the morrow. He got up then, and it was the first thing he
+did to go out and search well through the grass round about the house,
+trying could he get any herb that he did not recognise. And, indeed, he
+was not long searching till he observed a large strange herb that was
+growing up just by the gable of the house.
+
+He went over to it, and observed it closely, and saw that there were
+seven little branches coming out of the stalk, and seven leaves growing
+on every branch_een_ of them; and that there was a white sap in the
+leaves. "It's very wonderful," said he to himself, "that I never
+noticed this herb before. If there's any virtue in an herb at all, it
+ought to be in such a strange one as this."
+
+He drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his own
+house; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and there came
+a thick, white juice out of it, as there comes out of the sow-thistle
+when it is bruised, except that the juice was more like oil.
+
+He put it in a little pot and a little water in it, and laid it on the
+fire until the water was boiling, and then he took a cup, filled it
+half up with the juice, and put it to his own mouth. It came into his
+head then that perhaps it was poison that was in it, and that the good
+people were only tempting him that he might kill himself with that
+trick, or put the girl to death without meaning it. He put down the cup
+again, raised a couple of drops on the top of his finger, and put it to
+his mouth. It was not bitter, and, indeed, had a sweet, agreeable
+taste. He grew bolder then, and drank the full of a thimble of it, and
+then as much again, and he never stopped till he had half the cup
+drunk. He fell asleep after that, and did not wake till it was night,
+and there was great hunger and great thirst on him.
+
+He had to wait, then, till the day rose; but he determined, as soon as
+he should wake in the morning, that he would go to the king's daughter
+and give her a drink of the juice of the herb.
+
+As soon as he got up in the morning, he went over to the priest's house
+with the drink in his hand, and he never felt himself so bold and
+valiant, and spirited and light, as he was that day, and he was quite
+certain that it was the drink he drank which made him so hearty.
+
+When he came to the house, he found the priest and the young lady
+within, and they were wondering greatly why he had not visited them for
+two days.
+
+He told them all his news, and said that he was certain that there was
+great power in that herb, and that it would do the lady no hurt, for he
+tried it himself and got good from it, and then he made her taste it,
+for he vowed and swore that there was no harm in it.
+
+Guleesh handed her the cup, and she drank half of it, and then fell
+back on her bed and a heavy sleep came on her, and she never woke out
+of that sleep till the day on the morrow.
+
+Guleesh and the priest sat up the entire night with her, waiting till
+she should awake, and they between hope and unhope, between expectation
+of saving her and fear of hurting her.
+
+She awoke at last when the sun had gone half its way through the
+heavens. She rubbed her eyes and looked like a person who did not know
+where she was. She was like one astonished when she saw Guleesh and the
+priest in the same room with her, and she sat up doing her best to
+collect her thoughts.
+
+The two men were in great anxiety waiting to see would she speak, or
+would she not speak, and when they remained silent for a couple of
+minutes, the priest said to her: "Did you sleep well, Mary?"
+
+And she answered him: "I slept, thank you."
+
+No sooner did Guleesh hear her talking than he put a shout of joy out
+of him, and ran over to her and fell on his two knees, and said: "A
+thousand thanks to God, who has given you back the talk; lady of my
+heart, speak again to me."
+
+The lady answered him that she understood it was he who boiled that
+drink for her, and gave it to her; that she was obliged to him from her
+heart for all the kindness he showed her since the day she first came
+to Ireland, and that he might be certain that she never would forget it.
+
+Guleesh was ready to die with satisfaction and delight. Then they
+brought her food, and she ate with a good appetite, and was merry and
+joyous, and never left off talking with the priest while she was eating.
+
+After that Guleesh went home to his house, and stretched himself on the
+bed and fell asleep again, for the force of the herb was not all spent,
+and he passed another day and a night sleeping. When he woke up he went
+back to the priest's house, and found that the young lady was in the
+same state, and that she was asleep almost since the time that he left
+the house.
+
+He went into her chamber with the priest, and they remained watching
+beside her till she awoke the second time, and she had her talk as well
+as ever, and Guleesh was greatly rejoiced. The priest put food on the
+table again, and they ate together, and Guleesh used after that to come
+to the house from day to day, and the friendship that was between him
+and the king's daughter increased, because she had no one to speak to
+except Guleesh and the priest, and she liked Guleesh best.
+
+So they married one another, and that was the fine wedding they had,
+and if I were to be there then, I would not be here now; but I heard it
+from a birdeen that there was neither cark nor care, sickness nor
+sorrow, mishap nor misfortune on them till the hour of their death, and
+may the same be with me, and with us all!
+
+
+
+
+THE FIELD OF BOLIAUNS
+
+One fine day in harvest--it was indeed Lady-day in harvest, that
+everybody knows to be one of the greatest holidays in the year--Tom
+Fitzpatrick was taking a ramble through the ground, and went along the
+sunny side of a hedge; when all of a sudden he heard a clacking sort of
+noise a little before him in the hedge. "Dear me," said Tom, "but isn't
+it surprising to hear the stonechatters singing so late in the season?"
+So Tom stole on, going on the tops of his toes to try if he could get a
+sight of what was making the noise, to see if he was right in his
+guess. The noise stopped; but as Tom looked sharply through the bushes,
+what should he see in a nook of the hedge but a brown pitcher, that
+might hold about a gallon and a half of liquor; and by-and-by a little
+wee teeny tiny bit of an old man, with a little _motty_ of a cocked hat
+stuck upon the top of his head, a deeshy daushy leather apron hanging
+before him, pulled out a little wooden stool, and stood up upon it, and
+dipped a little piggin into the pitcher, and took out the full of it,
+and put it beside the stool, and then sat down under the pitcher, and
+began to work at putting a heel-piece on a bit of a brogue just fit for
+himself. "Well, by the powers," said Tom to himself, "I often heard
+tell of the Lepracauns, and, to tell God's truth, I never rightly
+believed in them--but here's one of them in real earnest. If I go
+knowingly to work, I'm a made man. They say a body must never take
+their eyes off them, or they'll escape."
+
+Tom now stole on a little further, with his eye fixed on the little man
+just as a cat does with a mouse. So when he got up quite close to him,
+"God bless your work, neighbour," said Tom.
+
+The little man raised up his head, and "Thank you kindly," said he.
+
+"I wonder you'd be working on the holiday!" said Tom.
+
+"That's my own business, not yours," was the reply.
+
+"Well, may be you'd be civil enough to tell _us_ what you've got in the
+pitcher there?" said Tom.
+
+"That I will, with pleasure," said he; "it's good beer."
+
+"Beer!" said Tom. "Thunder and fire! where did you get it?"
+
+"Where did I get it, is it?  Why, I made it. And what do you think I
+made it of?"
+
+"Devil a one of me knows," said Tom; "but of malt, I suppose, what
+else?"
+
+"There you're out. I made it of heath."
+
+"Of heath!" said Tom, bursting out laughing; "sure you don't think me
+to be such a fool as to believe that?"
+
+"Do as you please," said he, "but what I tell you is the truth. Did you
+never hear tell of the Danes?"
+
+"Well, what about _them_?" said Tom.
+
+"Why, all the about them there is, is that when they were here they
+taught us to make beer out of the heath, and the secret's in my family
+ever since."
+
+"Will you give a body a taste of your beer?" said Tom.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, young man, it would be fitter for you to be
+looking after your father's property than to be bothering decent quiet
+people with your foolish questions. There now, while you're idling away
+your time here, there's the cows have broke into the oats, and are
+knocking the corn all about."
+
+Tom was taken so by surprise with this that he was just on the very
+point of turning round when he recollected himself; so, afraid that the
+like might happen again, he made a grab at the Lepracaun, and caught
+him up in his hand; but in his hurry he overset the pitcher, and spilt
+all the beer, so that he could not get a taste of it to tell what sort
+it was. He then swore that he would kill him if he did not show him
+where his money was. Tom looked so wicked and so bloody-minded that the
+little man was quite frightened; so says he, "Come along with me a
+couple of fields off, and I'll show you a crock of gold."
+
+So they went, and Tom held the Lepracaun fast in his hand, and never
+took his eyes from off him, though they had to cross hedges and
+ditches, and a crooked bit of bog, till at last they came to a great
+field all full of boliauns, and the Lepracaun pointed to a big boliaun,
+and says he, "Dig under that boliaun, and you'll get the great crock
+all full of guineas."
+
+Tom in his hurry had never thought of bringing a spade with him, so he
+made up his mind to run home and fetch one; and that he might know the
+place again he took off one of his red garters, and tied it round the
+boliaun.
+
+Then he said to the Lepracaun, "Swear ye'll not take that garter away
+from that boliaun." And the Lepracaun swore right away not to touch it.
+
+"I suppose," said the Lepracaun, very civilly, "you have no further
+occasion for me?"
+
+"No," says Tom; "you may go away now, if you please, and God speed you,
+and may good luck attend you wherever you go."
+
+"Well, good-bye to you, Tom Fitzpatrick," said the Lepracaun; "and much
+good may it do you when you get it."
+
+So Tom ran for dear life, till he came home and got a spade, and then
+away with him, as hard as he could go, back to the field of boliauns;
+but when he got there, lo and behold! not a boliaun in the field but
+had a red garter, the very model of his own, tied about it; and as to
+digging up the whole field, that was all nonsense, for there were more
+than forty good Irish acres in it. So Tom came home again with his
+spade on his shoulder, a little cooler than he went, and many's the
+hearty curse he gave the Lepracaun every time he thought of the neat
+turn he had served him.
+
+
+
+THE HORNED WOMEN
+
+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 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 obliged 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, 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 in her absence the witches
+had made 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 the witches 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 in memory of that night; and this mantle was kept by
+the same family from generation to generation for five hundred years
+after.
+
+
+
+CONALL YELLOWCLAW
+
+Conall Yellowclaw was a sturdy tenant in Erin: he had three sons. There
+was at that time a king over every fifth of Erin. It fell out for the
+children of the king that was near Conall, that they themselves and the
+children of Conall came to blows. The children of Conall got the upper
+hand, and they killed the king's big son. The king sent a message for
+Conall, and he said to him--"Oh, Conall! what made your sons go to
+spring on my sons till my big son was killed by your children? but I
+see that though I follow you revengefully, I shall not be much better
+for it, and I will now set a thing before you, and if you will do it, I
+will not follow you with revenge. If you and your sons will get me the
+brown horse of the king of Lochlann, you shall get the souls of your
+sons."
+
+"Why," said Conall, "should not I do the pleasure of the king, though
+there should be no souls of my sons in dread at all. Hard is the matter
+you require of me, but I will lose my own life, and the life of my
+sons, or else I will do the pleasure of the king."
+
+After these words Conall left the king, and he went home: when he got
+home he was under much trouble and perplexity. When he went to lie down
+he told his wife the thing the king had set before him. His wife took
+much sorrow that he was obliged to part from herself, while she knew
+not if she should see him more.
+
+"Oh, Conall," said she, "why didst not thou let the king do his own
+pleasure to thy sons, rather than be going now, while I know not if
+ever I shall see thee more?"
+
+When he rose on the morrow, he set himself and his three sons in order,
+and they took their journey towards Lochlann, and they made no stop but
+tore through ocean till they reached it. When they reached Lochlann
+they did not know what they should do. Said the old man to his sons,
+"Stop ye, and we will seek out the house of the king's miller."
+
+When they went into the house of the king's miller, the man asked them
+to stop there for the night. Conall told the miller that his own
+children and the children of his king had fallen out, and that his
+children had killed the king's son, and there was nothing that would
+please the king but that he should get the brown horse of the king of
+Lochlann.
+
+"If you will do me a kindness, and will put me in a way to get him, for
+certain I will pay ye for it."
+
+"The thing is silly that you are come to seek," said the miller; "for
+the king has laid his mind on him so greatly that you will not get him
+in any way unless you steal him; but if you can make out a way, I will
+keep it secret."
+
+"This is what I am thinking," said Conall, "since you are working every
+day for the king, you and your gillies could put myself and my sons
+into five sacks of bran."
+
+"The plan that has come into your head is not bad," said the miller.
+
+The miller spoke to his gillies, and he said to them to do this, and
+they put them in five sacks. The king's gillies came to seek the bran,
+and they took the five sacks with them, and they emptied them before
+the horses. The servants locked the door, and they went away.
+
+When they rose to lay hand on the brown horse, said Conall, "You shall
+not do that. It is hard to get out of this; let us make for ourselves
+five hiding holes, so that if they hear us we may go and hide." They
+made the holes, then they laid hands on the horse. The horse was pretty
+well unbroken, and he set to making a terrible noise through the
+stable. The king heard the noise. "It must be my brown horse," said he
+to his gillies; "find out what is wrong with him."
+
+The servants went out, and when Conall and his sons saw them coming
+they went into the hiding holes. The servants looked amongst the
+horses, and they did not find anything wrong; and they returned and
+they told this to the king, and the king said to them that if nothing
+was wrong they should go to their places of rest. When the gillies had
+time to be gone, Conall and his sons laid their hands again on the
+horse. If the noise was great that he made before, the noise he made
+now was seven times greater. The king sent a message for his gillies
+again, and said for certain there was something troubling the brown
+horse. "Go and look well about him." The servants went out, and they
+went to their hiding holes. The servants rummaged well, and did not
+find a thing. They returned and they told this.
+
+"That is marvellous for me," said the king: "go you to lie down again,
+and if I notice it again I will go out myself."
+
+When Conall and his sons perceived that the gillies were gone, they
+laid hands again on the horse, and one of them caught him, and if the
+noise that the horse made on the two former times was great, he made
+more this time.
+
+"Be this from me," said the king; "it must be that some one is
+troubling my brown horse." He sounded the bell hastily, and when his
+waiting-man came to him, he said to him to let the stable gillies know
+that something was wrong with the horse. The gillies came, and the king
+went with them. When Conall and his sons perceived the company coming
+they went to the hiding holes.
+
+The king was a wary man, and he saw where the horses were making a
+noise.
+
+"Be wary," said the king, "there are men within the stable, let us get
+at them somehow."
+
+The king followed the tracks of the men, and he found them. Every one
+knew Conall, for he was a valued tenant of the king of Erin, and when
+the king brought them up out of the holes he said, "Oh, Conall, is it
+you that are here?"
+
+"I am, O king, without question, and necessity made me come. I am under
+thy pardon, and under thine honour, and under thy grace." He told how
+it happened to him, and that he had to get the brown horse for the king
+of Erin, or that his sons were to be put to death. "I knew that I
+should not get him by asking, and I was going to steal him."
+
+"Yes, Conall, it is well enough, but come in," said the king. He
+desired his look-out men to set a watch on the sons of Conall, and to
+give them meat. And a double watch was set that night on the sons of
+Conall.
+
+"Now, O Conall," said the king, "were you ever in a harder place than
+to be seeing your lot of sons hanged tomorrow? But you set it to my
+goodness and to my grace, and say that it was necessity brought it on
+you, so I must not hang you. Tell me any case in which you were as hard
+as this, and if you tell that, you shall get the soul of your youngest
+son."
+
+"I will tell a case as hard in which I was," said Conall. "I was once a
+young lad, and my father had much land, and he had parks of year-old
+cows, and one of them had just calved, and my father told me to bring
+her home. I found the cow, and took her with us. There fell a shower of
+snow. We went into the herd's bothy, and we took the cow and the calf
+in with us, and we were letting the shower pass from us. Who should
+come in but one cat and ten, and one great one-eyed fox-coloured cat as
+head bard over them. When they came in, in very deed I myself had no
+liking for their company. 'Strike up with you,' said the head bard,
+'why should we be still? and sing a cronan to Conall Yellowclaw.' I was
+amazed that my name was known to the cats themselves. When they had
+sung the cronan, said the head bard, 'Now, O Conall, pay the reward of
+the cronan that the cats have sung to thee.' 'Well then,' said I
+myself, 'I have no reward whatsoever for you, unless you should go down
+and take that calf.' No sooner said I the word than the two cats and
+ten went down to attack the calf, and in very deed, he did not last
+them long. 'Play up with you, why should you be silent? Make a cronan
+to Conall Yellowclaw,' said the head bard. Certainly I had no liking at
+all for the cronan, but up came the one cat and ten, and if they did
+not sing me a cronan then and there! 'Pay them now their reward,' said
+the great fox-coloured cat. 'I am tired myself of yourselves and your
+rewards,' said I. 'I have no reward for you unless you take that cow
+down there.' They betook themselves to the cow, and indeed she did not
+last them long.
+
+"'Why will you be silent? Go up and sing a cronan to Conall
+Yellowclaw,' said the head bard. And surely, oh king, I had no care for
+them or for their cronan, for I began to see that they were not good
+comrades. When they had sung me the cronan they betook themselves down
+where the head bard was. 'Pay now their reward, said the head bard; and
+for sure, oh king, I had no reward for them; and I said to them, 'I
+have no reward for you.' And surely, oh king, there was catterwauling
+between them. So I leapt out at a turf window that was at the back of
+the house. I took myself off as hard as I might into the wood. I was
+swift enough and strong at that time; and when I felt the rustling
+toirm of the cats after me I climbed into as high a tree as I saw in
+the place, and one that was close in the top; and I hid myself as well
+as I might. The cats began to search for me through the wood, and they
+could not find me; and when they were tired, each one said to the other
+that they would turn back. 'But,' said the one-eyed fox-coloured cat
+that was commander-in-chief over them, 'you saw him not with your two
+eyes, and though I have but one eye, there's the rascal up in the
+tree.' When he had said that, one of them went up in the tree, and as
+he was coming where I was, I drew a weapon that I had and I killed him.
+'Be this from me!' said the one-eyed one--'I must not be losing my
+company thus; gather round the root of the tree and dig about it, and
+let down that villain to earth.' On this they gathered about the tree,
+and they dug about the root, and the first branching root that they
+cut, she gave a shiver to fall, and I myself gave a shout, and it was
+not to be wondered at.
+
+"There was in the neighbourhood of the wood a priest, and he had ten
+men with him delving, and he said, 'There is a shout of a man in
+extremity and I must not be without replying to it.' And the wisest of
+the men said, 'Let it alone till we hear it again.' The cats began
+again digging wildly, and they broke the next root; and I myself gave
+the next shout, and in very deed it was not a weak one. 'Certainly,'
+said the priest, 'it is a man in extremity--let us move.' They set
+themselves in order for moving. And the cats arose on the tree, and
+they broke the third root, and the tree fell on her elbow. Then I gave
+the third shout. The stalwart men hastened, and when they saw how the
+cats served the tree, they began at them with the spades; and they
+themselves and the cats began at each other, till the cats ran away.
+And surely, oh king, I did not move till I saw the last one of them
+off. And then I came home. And there's the hardest case in which I ever
+was; and it seems to me that tearing by the cats were harder than
+hanging to-morrow by the king of Lochlann."
+
+"Och! Conall," said the king, "you are full of words. You have freed
+the soul of your son with your tale; and if you tell me a harder case
+than that you will get your second youngest son, and then you will have
+two sons."
+
+"Well then," said Conall, "on condition that thou dost that, I will
+tell thee how I was once in a harder case than to be in thy power in
+prison to-night."
+
+"Let's hear," said the king.
+
+"I was then," said Conall, "quite a young lad, and I went out hunting,
+and my father's land was beside the sea, and it was rough with rocks,
+caves, and rifts. When I was going on the top of the shore, I saw as if
+there were a smoke coming up between two rocks, and I began to look
+what might be the meaning of the smoke coming up there. When I was
+looking, what should I do but fall; and the place was so full of
+heather, that neither bone nor skin was broken. I knew not how I should
+get out of this. I was not looking before me, but I kept looking
+overhead the way I came--and thinking that the day would never come
+that I could get up there. It was terrible for me to be there till I
+should die. I heard a great clattering coming, and what was there but a
+great giant and two dozen of goats with him, and a buck at their head.
+And when the giant had tied the goats, he came up and he said to me,
+'Hao O! Conall, it's long since my knife has been rusting in my pouch
+waiting for thy tender flesh.' 'Och!' said I, 'it's not much you will
+be bettered by me, though you should tear me asunder; I will make but
+one meal for you. But I see that you are one-eyed. I am a good leech,
+and I will give you the sight of the other eye.' The giant went and he
+drew the great caldron on the site of the fire. I myself was telling
+him how he should heat the water, so that I should give its sight to
+the other eye. I got heather and I made a rubber of it, and I set him
+upright in the caldron. I began at the eye that was well, pretending to
+him that I would give its sight to the other one, till I left them as
+bad as each other; and surely it was easier to spoil the one that was
+well than to give sight to the other.
+
+"When he saw that he could not see a glimpse, and when I myself said to
+him that I would get out in spite of him, he gave a spring out of the
+water, and he stood in the mouth of the cave, and he said that he would
+have revenge for the sight of his eye. I had but to stay there crouched
+the length of the night, holding in my breath in such a way that he
+might not find out where I was.
+
+"When he felt the birds calling in the morning, and knew that the day
+was, he said--'Art thou sleeping? Awake and let out my lot of goats.' I
+killed the buck. He cried, 'I do believe that thou art killing my buck.'
+
+"'I am not,' said I, 'but the ropes are so tight that I take long to
+loose them.' I let out one of the goats, and there he was caressing
+her, and he said to her, 'There thou art thou shaggy, hairy white goat;
+and thou seest me, but I see thee not.' I kept letting them out by the
+way of one and one, as I flayed the buck, and before the last one was
+out I had him flayed bag-wise. Then I went and I put my legs in place
+of his legs, and my hands in place of his forelegs, and my head in
+place of his head, and the horns on top of my head, so that the brute
+might think that it was the buck. I went out. When I was going out the
+giant laid his hand on me, and he said, 'There thou art, thou pretty
+buck; thou seest me, but I see thee not.' When I myself got out, and I
+saw the world about me, surely, oh, king! joy was on me. When I was out
+and had shaken the skin off me, I said to the brute, 'I am out now in
+spite of you.'
+
+"'Aha!' said he, 'hast thou done this to me. Since thou wert so
+stalwart that thou hast got out, I will give thee a ring that I have
+here; keep the ring, and it will do thee good.'
+
+"'I will not take the ring from you,' said I, 'but throw it, and I will
+take it with me.' He threw the ring on the flat ground, I went myself
+and I lifted the ring, and I put it on my finger. When he said me then,
+'Is the ring fitting thee?' I said to him, 'It is.' Then he said,
+'Where art thou, ring?' And the ring said, 'I am here.' The brute went
+and went towards where the ring was speaking, and now I saw that I was
+in a harder case than ever I was. I drew a dirk. I cut the finger from
+off me, and I threw it from me as far as I could out on the loch, and
+there was a great depth in the place. He shouted, 'Where art thou,
+ring?' And the ring said, 'I am here,' though it was on the bed of
+ocean. He gave a spring after the ring, and out he went in the sea. And
+I was as pleased then when I saw him drowning, as though you should
+grant my own life and the life of my two sons with me, and not lay any
+more trouble on me.
+
+"When the giant was drowned I went in, and I took with me all he had of
+gold and silver, and I went home, and surely great joy was on my people
+when I arrived. And as a sign now look, the finger is off me."
+
+"Yes, indeed, Conall, you are wordy and wise," said the king. "I see
+the finger is off you. You have freed your two sons, but tell me a case
+in which you ever were that is harder than to be looking on your son
+being hanged tomorrow, and you shall get the soul of your eldest son."
+
+"Then went my father," said Conall, "and he got me a wife, and I was
+married. I went to hunt. I was going beside the sea, and I saw an
+island over in the midst of the loch, and I came there where a boat was
+with a rope before her, and a rope behind her, and many precious things
+within her. I looked myself on the boat to see how I might get part of
+them. I put in the one foot, and the other foot was on the ground, and
+when I raised my head what was it but the boat over in the middle of
+the loch, and she never stopped till she reached the island. When I
+went out of the boat the boat returned where she was before. I did not
+know now what I should do. The place was without meat or clothing,
+without the appearance of a house on it. I came out on the top of a
+hill. Then I came to a glen; I saw in it, at the bottom of a hollow, a
+woman with a child, and the child was naked on her knee, and she had a
+knife in her hand. She tried to put the knife to the throat of the
+babe, and the babe began to laugh in her face, and she began to cry,
+and she threw the knife behind her. I thought to myself that I was near
+my foe and far from my friends, and I called to the woman, 'What are
+you doing here?' And she said to me, 'What brought you here?' I told
+her myself word upon word how I came. 'Well then,' said she, 'it was so
+I came also.' She showed me to the place where I should come in where
+she was. I went in, and I said to her, 'What was the matter that you
+were putting the knife on the neck of the child?' 'It is that he must
+be cooked for the giant who is here, or else no more of my world will
+be before me.' Just then we could be hearing the footsteps of the
+giant, 'What shall I do? what shall I do?' cried the woman. I went to
+the caldron, and by luck it was not hot, so in it I got just as the
+brute came in. 'Hast thou boiled that youngster for me?' he cried.
+'He's not done yet,' said she, and I cried out from the caldron,
+'Mammy, mammy, it's boiling I am.' Then the giant laughed out HAI, HAW,
+HOGARAICH, and heaped on wood under the caldron.
+
+"And now I was sure I would scald before I could get out of that. As
+fortune favoured me, the brute slept beside the caldron. There I was
+scalded by the bottom of the caldron. When she perceived that he was
+asleep, she set her mouth quietly to the hole that was in the lid, and
+she said to me 'was I alive?' I said I was. I put up my head, and the
+hole in the lid was so large, that my head went through easily.
+Everything was coming easily with me till I began to bring up my hips.
+I left the skin of my hips behind me, but I came out. When I got out of
+the caldron I knew not what to do; and she said to me that there was no
+weapon that would kill him but his own weapon. I began to draw his
+spear and every breath that he drew I thought I would be down his
+throat, and when his breath came out I was back again just as far. But
+with every ill that befell me I got the spear loosed from him. Then I
+was as one under a bundle of straw in a great wind for I could not
+manage the spear. And it was fearful to look on the brute, who had but
+one eye in the midst of his face; and it was not agreeable for the like
+of me to attack him. I drew the dart as best I could, and I set it in
+his eye. When he felt this he gave his head a lift, and he struck the
+other end of the dart on the top of the cave, and it went through to
+the back of his head. And he fell cold dead where he was; and you may
+be sure, oh king, that joy was on me. I myself and the woman went out
+on clear ground, and we passed the night there. I went and got the boat
+with which I came, and she was no way lightened, and took the woman and
+the child over on dry land; and I returned home."
+
+The king of Lochlann's mother was putting on a fire at this time, and
+listening to Conall telling the tale about the child.
+
+"Is it you," said she, "that were there?"
+
+"Well then," said he, "'twas I."
+
+"Och! och!" said she, "'twas I that was there, and the king is the
+child whose life you saved; and it is to you that life thanks should be
+given." Then they took great joy.
+
+The king said, "Oh, Conall, you came through great hardships. And now
+the brown horse is yours, and his sack full of the most precious things
+that are in my treasury."
+
+They lay down that night, and if it was early that Conall rose, it was
+earlier than that that the queen was on foot making ready. He got the
+brown horse and his sack full of gold and silver and stones of great
+price, and then Conall and his three sons went away, and they returned
+home to the Erin realm of gladness. He left the gold and silver in his
+house, and he went with the horse to the king. They were good friends
+evermore. He returned home to his wife, and they set in order a feast;
+and that was a feast if ever there was one, oh son and brother.
+
+
+
+HUDDEN AND DUDDEN AND DONALD O'NEARY
+
+There was once upon a time two farmers, and their names were Hudden and
+Dudden. They had poultry in their yards, sheep on the uplands, and
+scores of cattle in the meadow-land alongside the river. But for all
+that they weren't happy. For just between their two farms there lived a
+poor man by the name of Donald O'Neary. He had a hovel over his head
+and a strip of grass that was barely enough to keep his one cow, Daisy,
+from starving, and, though she did her best, it was but seldom that
+Donald got a drink of milk or a roll of butter from Daisy. You would
+think there was little here to make Hudden and Dudden jealous, but so
+it is, the more one has the more one wants, and Donald's neighbours lay
+awake of nights scheming how they might get hold of his little strip of
+grass-land. Daisy, poor thing, they never thought of; she was just a
+bag of bones.
+
+One day Hudden met Dudden, and they were soon grumbling as usual, and
+all to the tune of "If only we could get that vagabond Donald O'Neary
+out of the country."
+
+"Let's kill Daisy," said Hudden at last; "if that doesn't make him
+clear out, nothing will."
+
+No sooner said than agreed, and it wasn't dark before Hudden and Dudden
+crept up to the little shed where lay poor Daisy trying her best to
+chew the cud, though she hadn't had as much grass in the day as would
+cover your hand. And when Donald came to see if Daisy was all snug for
+the night, the poor beast had only time to lick his hand once before
+she died.
+
+Well, Donald was a shrewd fellow, and downhearted though he was, began
+to think if he could get any good out of Daisy's death. He thought and
+he thought, and the next day you could have seen him trudging off early
+to the fair, Daisy's hide over his shoulder, every penny he had
+jingling in his pockets. Just before he got to the fair, he made
+several slits in the hide, put a penny in each slit, walked into the
+best inn of the town as bold as if it belonged to him, and, hanging the
+hide up to a nail in the wall, sat down.
+
+"Some of your best whisky," says he to the landlord.
+
+But the landlord didn't like his looks. "Is it fearing I won't pay you,
+you are?" says Donald; "why I have a hide here that gives me all the
+money I want." And with that he hit it a whack with his stick and out
+hopped a penny. The landlord opened his eyes, as you may fancy.
+
+"What'll you take for that hide?"
+
+"It's not for sale, my good man."
+
+"Will you take a gold piece?"
+
+"It's not for sale, I tell you. Hasn't it kept me and mine for years?"
+and with that Donald hit the hide another whack and out jumped a second
+penny.
+
+Well, the long and the short of it was that Donald let the hide go,
+and, that very evening, who but he should walk up to Hudden's door?
+
+"Good-evening, Hudden. Will you lend me your best pair of scales?"
+
+Hudden stared and Hudden scratched his head, but he lent the scales.
+
+When Donald was safe at home, he pulled out his pocketful of bright
+gold and began to weigh each piece in the scales. But Hudden had put a
+lump of butter at the bottom, and so the last piece of gold stuck fast
+to the scales when he took them back to Hudden.
+
+If Hudden had stared before, he stared ten times more now, and no
+sooner was Donald's back turned, than he was of as hard as he could
+pelt to Dudden's.
+
+"Good-evening, Dudden. That vagabond, bad luck to him--"
+
+"You mean Donald O'Neary?"
+
+"And who else should I mean? He's back here weighing out sackfuls of
+gold."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Here are my scales that he borrowed, and here's a gold piece still
+sticking to them."
+
+Off they went together, and they came to Donald's door. Donald had
+finished making the last pile of ten gold pieces. And he couldn't
+finish because a piece had stuck to the scales.
+
+In they walked without an "If you please" or "By your leave."
+
+"Well, _I_ never!" that was all _they_ could say.
+
+"Good-evening, Hudden; good-evening, Dudden. Ah! you thought you had
+played me a fine trick, but you never did me a better turn in all your
+lives. When I found poor Daisy dead, I thought to myself, 'Well, her
+hide may fetch something;' and it did. Hides are worth their weight in
+gold in the market just now."
+
+Hudden nudged Dudden, and Dudden winked at Hudden.
+
+"Good-evening, Donald O'Neary."
+
+"Good-evening, kind friends."
+
+The next day there wasn't a cow or a calf that belonged to Hudden or
+Dudden but her hide was going to the fair in Hudden's biggest cart
+drawn by Dudden's strongest pair of horses.
+
+When they came to the fair, each one took a hide over his arm, and
+there they were walking through the fair, bawling out at the top of
+their voices: "Hides to sell! hides to sell!"
+
+Out came the tanner:
+
+"How much for your hides, my good men?"
+
+"Their weight in gold."
+
+"It's early in the day to come out of the tavern."
+
+That was all the tanner said, and back he went to his yard.
+
+"Hides to sell! Fine fresh hides to sell!"
+
+Out came the cobbler.
+
+"How much for your hides, my men?"
+
+"Their weight in gold."
+
+"Is it making game of me you are! Take that for your pains," and the
+cobbler dealt Hudden a blow that made him stagger.
+
+Up the people came running from one end of the fair to the other.
+"What's the matter? What's the matter?" cried they.
+
+"Here are a couple of vagabonds selling hides at their weight in gold,"
+said the cobbler.
+
+"Hold 'em fast; hold 'em fast!" bawled the innkeeper, who was the last
+to come up, he was so fat. "I'll wager it's one of the rogues who
+tricked me out of thirty gold pieces yesterday for a wretched hide."
+
+It was more kicks than halfpence that Hudden and Dudden got before they
+were well on their way home again, and they didn't run the slower
+because all the dogs of the town were at their heels.
+
+Well, as you may fancy, if they loved Donald little before, they loved
+him less now.
+
+"What's the matter, friends?" said he, as he saw them tearing along,
+their hats knocked in, and their coats torn off, and their faces black
+and blue. "Is it fighting you've been? or mayhap you met the police,
+ill luck to them?"
+
+"We'll police you, you vagabond. It's mighty smart you thought
+yourself, deluding us with your lying tales."
+
+"Who deluded you? Didn't you see the gold with your own two eyes?"
+
+But it was no use talking. Pay for it he must, and should. There was a
+meal-sack handy, and into it Hudden and Dudden popped Donald O'Neary,
+tied him up tight, ran a pole through the knot, and off they started
+for the Brown Lake of the Bog, each with a pole-end on his shoulder,
+and Donald O'Neary between.
+
+But the Brown Lake was far, the road was dusty, Hudden and Dudden were
+sore and weary, and parched with thirst. There was an inn by the
+roadside.
+
+"Let's go in," said Hudden; "I'm dead beat. It's heavy he is for the
+little he had to eat."
+
+If Hudden was willing, so was Dudden. As for Donald, you may be sure
+his leave wasn't asked, but he was lumped down at the inn door for all
+the world as if he had been a sack of potatoes.
+
+"Sit still, you vagabond," said Dudden; "if we don't mind waiting, you
+needn't."
+
+Donald held his peace, but after a while he heard the glasses clink,
+and Hudden singing away at the top of his voice.
+
+"I won't have her, I tell you; I won't have her!" said Donald. But
+nobody heeded what he said.
+
+"I won't have her, I tell you; I won't have her!" said Donald, and this
+time he said it louder; but nobody heeded what he said.
+
+"I won't have her, I tell you; I won't have her!" said Donald; and this
+time he said it as loud as he could.
+
+"And who won't you have, may I be so bold as to ask?" said a farmer,
+who had just come up with a drove of cattle, and was turning in for a
+glass.
+
+"It's the king's daughter. They are bothering the life out of me to
+marry her."
+
+"You're the lucky fellow. I'd give something to be in your shoes."
+
+"Do you see that now! Wouldn't it be a fine thing for a farmer to be
+marrying a princess, all dressed in gold and jewels?"
+
+"Jewels, do you say? Ah, now, couldn't you take me with you?"
+
+"Well, you're an honest fellow, and as I don't care for the king's
+daughter, though she's as beautiful as the day, and is covered with
+jewels from top to toe, you shall have her. Just undo the cord, and let
+me out; they tied me up tight, as they knew I'd run away from her."
+
+Out crawled Donald; in crept the farmer.
+
+"Now lie still, and don't mind the shaking; it's only rumbling over the
+palace steps you'll be. And maybe they'll abuse you for a vagabond, who
+won't have the king's daughter; but you needn't mind that. Ah! it's a
+deal I'm giving up for you, sure as it is that I don't care for the
+princess."
+
+"Take my cattle in exchange," said the farmer; and you may guess it
+wasn't long before Donald was at their tails driving them homewards.
+
+Out came Hudden and Dudden, and the one took one end of the pole, and
+the other the other.
+
+"I'm thinking he's heavier," said Hudden.
+
+"Ah, never mind," said Dudden; "it's only a step now to the Brown Lake."
+
+"I'll have her now! I'll have her now!" bawled the farmer, from inside
+the sack.
+
+"By my faith, and you shall though," said Hudden, and he laid his stick
+across the sack.
+
+"I'll have her! I'll have her!" bawled the farmer, louder than ever.
+
+"Well, here you are," said Dudden, for they were now come to the Brown
+Lake, and, unslinging the sack, they pitched it plump into the lake.
+
+"You'll not be playing your tricks on us any longer," said Hudden.
+
+"True for you," said Dudden. "Ah, Donald, my boy, it was an ill day
+when you borrowed my scales."
+
+Off they went, with a light step and an easy heart, but when they were
+near home, who should they see but Donald O'Neary, and all around him
+the cows were grazing, and the calves were kicking up their heels and
+butting their heads together.
+
+"Is it you, Donald?" said Dudden. "Faith, you've been quicker than we
+have."
+
+"True for you, Dudden, and let me thank you kindly; the turn was good,
+if the will was ill. You'll have heard, like me, that the Brown Lake
+leads to the Land of Promise. I always put it down as lies, but it is
+just as true as my word. Look at the cattle."
+
+Hudden stared, and Dudden gaped; but they couldn't get over the cattle;
+fine fat cattle they were too.
+
+"It's only the worst I could bring up with me," said Donald O'Neary;
+"the others were so fat, there was no driving them. Faith, too, it's
+little wonder they didn't care to leave, with grass as far as you could
+see, and as sweet and juicy as fresh butter."
+
+"Ah, now, Donald, we haven't always been friends," said Dudden, "but,
+as I was just saying, you were ever a decent lad, and you'll show us
+the way, won't you?"
+
+"I don't see that I'm called upon to do that; there is a power more
+cattle down there. Why shouldn't I have them all to myself?"
+
+"Faith, they may well say, the richer you get, the harder the heart.
+You always were a neighbourly lad, Donald. You wouldn't wish to keep
+the luck all to yourself?"
+
+"True for you, Hudden, though 'tis a bad example you set me. But I'll
+not be thinking of old times. There is plenty for all there, so come
+along with me."
+
+Off they trudged, with a light heart and an eager step. When they came
+to the Brown Lake, the sky was full of little white clouds, and, if the
+sky was full, the lake was as full.
+
+"Ah! now, look, there they are," cried Donald, as he pointed to the
+clouds in the lake.
+
+"Where? where?" cried Hudden, and "Don't be greedy!" cried Dudden, as
+he jumped his hardest to be up first with the fat cattle. But if he
+jumped first, Hudden wasn't long behind.
+
+They never came back. Maybe they got too fat, like the cattle. As for
+Donald O'Neary, he had cattle and sheep all his days to his heart's
+content.
+
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD OF MYDDVAI
+
+Up in the Black Mountains in Caermarthenshire lies the lake known as
+Lyn y Van Vach. To the margin of this lake the shepherd of Myddvai once
+led his lambs, and lay there whilst they sought pasture. Suddenly, from
+the dark waters of the lake, he saw three maidens rise. Shaking the
+bright drops from their hair and gliding to the shore, they wandered
+about amongst his flock. They had more than mortal beauty, and he was
+filled with love for her that came nearest to him. He offered her the
+bread he had with him, and she took it and tried it, but then sang to
+him:
+
+  Hard-baked is thy bread,
+  'Tis not easy to catch me,
+
+and then ran off laughing to the lake.
+
+Next day he took with him bread not so well done, and watched for the
+maidens. When they came ashore he offered his bread as before, and the
+maiden tasted it and sang:
+
+  Unbaked is thy bread,
+  I will not have thee,
+
+and again disappeared in the waves.
+
+A third time did the shepherd of Myddvai try to attract the maiden, and
+this time he offered her bread that he had found floating about near
+the shore. This pleased her, and she promised to become his wife if he
+were able to pick her out from among her sisters on the following day.
+When the time came the shepherd knew his love by the strap of her
+sandal. Then she told him she would be as good a wife to him as any
+earthly maiden could be unless he should strike her three times without
+cause. Of course he deemed that this could never be; and she, summoning
+from the lake three cows, two oxen, and a bull, as her marriage
+portion, was led homeward by him as his bride.
+
+The years passed happily, and three children were born to the shepherd
+and the lake-maiden. But one day here were going to a christening, and
+she said to her husband it was far to walk, so he told her to go for
+the horses.
+
+"I will," said she, "if you bring me my gloves which I've left in the
+house."
+
+But when he came back with the gloves, he found she had not gone for
+the horses; so he tapped her lightly on the shoulder with the gloves,
+and said, "Go, go."
+
+"That's one," said she.
+
+Another time they were at a wedding, when suddenly the lake-maiden fell
+a-sobbing and a-weeping, amid the joy and mirth of all around her.
+
+Her husband tapped her on the shoulder, and asked her, "Why do you
+weep?"
+
+"Because they are entering into trouble; and trouble is upon you; for
+that is the second causeless blow you have given me. Be careful; the
+third is the last."
+
+The husband was careful never to strike her again. But one day at a
+funeral she suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. Her husband
+forgot, and touched her rather roughly on the shoulder, saying, "Is
+this a time for laughter?"
+
+"I laugh," she said, "because those that die go out of trouble, but
+your trouble has come. The last blow has been struck; our marriage is
+at an end, and so farewell." And with that she rose up and left the
+house and went to their home.
+
+Then she, looking round upon her home, called to the cattle she had
+brought with her:
+
+  Brindle cow, white speckled,
+  Spotted cow, bold freckled,
+  Old white face, and gray Geringer,
+  And the white bull from the king's coast,
+  Grey ox, and black calf,
+  All, all, follow me home,
+
+Now the black calf had just been slaughtered, and was hanging on the
+hook; but it got off the hook alive and well and followed her; and the
+oxen, though they were ploughing, trailed the plough with them and did
+her bidding. So she fled to the lake again, they following her, and
+with them plunged into the dark waters.
+
+And to this day is the furrow seen which the plough left as it was
+dragged across the mountains to the tarn.
+
+Only once did she come again, when her sons were grown to manhood, and
+then she gave them gifts of healing by which they won the name of
+Meddygon Myddvai, the physicians of Myddvai.
+
+
+
+THE SPRIGHTLY TAILOR
+
+A sprightly tailor was employed by the great Macdonald, in his castle
+at Saddell, in order to make the laird a pair of trews, used in olden
+time. And trews being the vest and breeches united in one piece, and
+ornamented with fringes, were very comfortable, and suitable to be worn
+in walking or dancing. And Macdonald had said to the tailor, that if he
+would make the trews by night in the church, he would get a handsome
+reward. For it was thought that the old ruined church was haunted, and
+that fearsome things were to be seen there at night.
+
+The tailor was well aware of this; but he was a sprightly man, and when
+the laird dared him to make the trews by night in the church, the
+tailor was not to be daunted, but took it in hand to gain the prize.
+So, when night came, away he went up the glen, about half a mile
+distance from the castle, till he came to the old church. Then he chose
+him a nice gravestone for a seat and he lighted his candle, and put on
+his thimble, and set to work at the trews; plying his needle nimbly,
+and thinking about the hire that the laird would have to give him.
+
+For some time he got on pretty well, until he felt the floor all of a
+tremble under his feet; and looking about him, but keeping his fingers
+at work, he saw the appearance of a great human head rising up through
+the stone pavement of the church. And when the head had risen above the
+surface, there came from it a great, great voice. And the voice said:
+"Do you see this great head of mine?"
+
+"I see that, but I'll sew this!" replied the sprightly tailor; and he
+stitched away at the trews.
+
+Then the head rose higher up through the pavement, until its neck
+appeared. And when its neck was shown, the thundering voice came again
+and said: "Do you see this great neck of mine?"
+
+"I see that, but I'll sew this!" said the sprightly tailor; and he
+stitched away at his trews.
+
+Then the head and neck rose higher still, until the great shoulders and
+chest were shown above the ground. And again the mighty voice
+thundered: "Do you see this great chest of mine?"
+
+And again the sprightly tailor replied: "I see that, but I'll sew
+this!" and stitched away at his trews.
+
+And still it kept rising through the pavement, until it shook a great
+pair of arms in the tailor's face, and said: "Do you see these great
+arms of mine?"
+
+"I see those, but I'll sew this!" answered the tailor; and he stitched
+hard at his trews, for he knew that he had no time to lose.
+
+The sprightly tailor was taking the long stitches, when he saw it
+gradually rising and rising through the floor, until it lifted out a
+great leg, and stamping with it upon the pavement, said in a roaring
+voice: "Do you see this great leg of mine?"
+
+"Aye, aye: I see that, but I'll sew this!" cried the tailor; and his
+fingers flew with the needle, and he took such long stitches, that he
+was just come to the end of the trews, when it was taking up its other
+leg. But before it could pull it out of the pavement, the sprightly
+tailor had finished his task; and, blowing out his candle, and
+springing from off his gravestone, he buckled up, and ran out of the
+church with the trews under his arm. Then the fearsome thing gave a
+loud roar, and stamped with both his feet upon the pavement, and out of
+the church he went after the sprightly tailor.
+
+Down the glen they ran, faster than the stream when the flood rides it;
+but the tailor had got the start and a nimble pair of legs, and he did
+not choose to lose the laird's reward. And though the thing roared to
+him to stop, yet the sprightly tailor was not the man to be beholden to
+a monster. So he held his trews tight, and let no darkness grow under
+his feet, until he had reached Saddell Castle. He had no sooner got
+inside the gate, and shut it, than the apparition came up to it; and,
+enraged at losing his prize, struck the wall above the gate, and left
+there the mark of his five great fingers. Ye may see them plainly to
+this day, if ye'll only peer close enough.
+
+But the sprightly tailor gained his reward: for Macdonald paid him
+handsomely for the trews, and never discovered that a few of the
+stitches were somewhat long.
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF DEIRDRE
+
+There was a man in Ireland once who was called Malcolm Harper. The man
+was a right good man, and he had a goodly share of this world's goods.
+He had a wife, but no family. What did Malcolm hear but that a
+soothsayer had come home to the place, and as the man was a right good
+man, he wished that the soothsayer might come near them. Whether it was
+that he was invited or that he came of himself, the soothsayer came to
+the house of Malcolm.
+
+"Are you doing any soothsaying?" says Malcolm.
+
+"Yes, I am doing a little. Are you in need of soothsaying?"
+
+"Well, I do not mind taking soothsaying from you, if you had
+soothsaying for me, and you would be willing to do it."
+
+"Well, I will do soothsaying for you. What kind of soothsaying do you
+want?"
+
+"Well, the soothsaying I wanted was that you would tell me my lot or
+what will happen to me, if you can give me knowledge of it."
+
+"Well, I am going out, and when I return, I will tell you."
+
+And the soothsayer went forth out of the house and he was not long
+outside when he returned.
+
+"Well," said the soothsayer, "I saw in my second sight that it is on
+account of a daughter of yours that the greatest amount of blood shall
+be shed that has ever been shed in Erin since time and race began. And
+the three most famous heroes that ever were found will lose their heads
+on her account."
+
+After a time a daughter was born to Malcolm, he did not allow a living
+being to come to his house, only himself and the nurse. He asked this
+woman, "Will you yourself bring up the child to keep her in hiding far
+away where eye will not see a sight of her nor ear hear a word about
+her?"
+
+The woman said she would, so Malcolm got three men, and he took them
+away to a large mountain, distant and far from reach, without the
+knowledge or notice of any one. He caused there a hillock, round and
+green, to be dug out of the middle, and the hole thus made to be
+covered carefully over so that a little company could dwell there
+together. This was done.
+
+Deirdre and her foster-mother dwelt in the bothy mid the hills without
+the knowledge or the suspicion of any living person about them and
+without anything occurring, until Deirdre was sixteen years of age.
+Deirdre grew like the white sapling, straight and trim as the rash on
+the moss. She was the creature of fairest form, of loveliest aspect,
+and of gentlest nature that existed between earth and heaven in all
+Ireland--whatever colour of hue she had before, there was nobody that
+looked into her face but she would blush fiery red over it.
+
+The woman that had charge of her, gave Deirdre every information and
+skill of which she herself had knowledge and skill. There was not a
+blade of grass growing from root, nor a bird singing in the wood, nor a
+star shining from heaven but Deirdre had a name for it. But one thing,
+she did not wish her to have either part or parley with any single
+living man of the rest of the world. But on a gloomy winter night, with
+black, scowling clouds, a hunter of game was wearily travelling the
+hills, and what happened but that he missed the trail of the hunt, and
+lost his course and companions. A drowsiness came upon the man as he
+wearily wandered over the hills, and he lay down by the side of the
+beautiful green knoll in which Deirdre lived, and he slept. The man was
+faint from hunger and wandering, and benumbed with cold, and a deep
+sleep fell upon him. When he lay down beside the green hill where
+Deirdre was, a troubled dream came to the man, and he thought that he
+enjoyed the warmth of a fairy broch, the fairies being inside playing
+music. The hunter shouted out in his dream, if there was any one in the
+broch, to let him in for the Holy One's sake. Deirdre heard the voice
+and said to her foster-mother: "O foster-mother, what cry is that?" "It
+is nothing at all, Deirdre--merely the birds of the air astray and
+seeking each other. But let them go past to the bosky glade. There is
+no shelter or house for them here." "Oh, foster-mother, the bird asked
+to get inside for the sake of the God of the Elements, and you yourself
+tell me that anything that is asked in His name we ought to do. If you
+will not allow the bird that is being benumbed with cold, and done to
+death with hunger, to be let in, I do not think much of your language
+or your faith. But since I give credence to your language and to your
+faith, which you taught me, I will myself let in the bird." And Deirdre
+arose and drew the bolt from the leaf of the door, and she let in the
+hunter. She placed a seat in the place for sitting, food in the place
+for eating, and drink in the place for drinking for the man who came to
+the house. "Oh, for this life and raiment, you man that came in, keep
+restraint on your tongue!" said the old woman. "It is not a great thing
+for you to keep your mouth shut and your tongue quiet when you get a
+home and shelter of a hearth on a gloomy winter's night."
+
+"Well," said the hunter, "I may do that--keep my mouth shut and my
+tongue quiet, since I came to the house and received hospitality from
+you; but by the hand of thy father and grandfather, and by your own two
+hands, if some other of the people of the world saw this beauteous
+creature you have here hid away, they would not long leave her with
+you, I swear."
+
+"What men are these you refer to?" said Deirdre.
+
+"Well, I will tell you, young woman," said the hunter.
+
+"They are Naois, son of Uisnech, and Allen and Arden his two brothers."
+
+"What like are these men when seen, if we were to see them?" said
+Deirdre.
+
+"Why, the aspect and form of the men when seen are these," said the
+hunter: "they have the colour of the raven on their hair, their skin
+like swan on the wave in whiteness, and their cheeks as the blood of
+the brindled red calf, and their speed and their leap are those of the
+salmon of the torrent and the deer of the grey mountain side. And Naois
+is head and shoulders over the rest of the people of Erin."
+
+"However they are," said the nurse, "be you off from here and take
+another road. And, King of Light and Sun! in good sooth and certainty,
+little are my thanks for yourself or for her that let you in!"
+
+The hunter went away, and went straight to the palace of King
+Connachar. He sent word in to the king that he wished to speak to him
+if he pleased. The king answered the message and came out to speak to
+the man. "What is the reason of your journey?" said the king to the
+hunter.
+
+"I have only to tell you, O king," said the hunter, "that I saw the
+fairest creature that ever was born in Erin, and I came to tell you of
+it."
+
+"Who is this beauty and where is she to be seen, when she was not seen
+before till you saw her, if you did see her?"
+
+"Well, I did see her," said the hunter. "But, if I did, no man else can
+see her unless he get directions from me as to where she is dwelling."
+
+"And will you direct me to where she dwells? and the reward of your
+directing me will be as good as the reward of your message," said the
+king.
+
+"Well, I will direct you, O king, although it is likely that this will
+not be what they want," said the hunter.
+
+Connachar, King of Ulster, sent for his nearest kinsmen, and he told
+them of his intent. Though early rose the song of the birds mid the
+rocky caves and the music of the birds in the grove, earlier than that
+did Connachar, King of Ulster, arise, with his little troop of dear
+friends, in the delightful twilight of the fresh and gentle May; the
+dew was heavy on each bush and flower and stem, as they went to bring
+Deirdre forth from the green knoll where she stayed. Many a youth was
+there who had a lithe leaping and lissom step when they started whose
+step was faint, failing, and faltering when they reached the bothy on
+account of the length of the way and roughness of the road.
+
+"Yonder, now, down in the bottom of the glen is the bothy where the
+woman dwells, but I will not go nearer than this to the old woman,"
+said the hunter.
+
+Connachar with his band of kinsfolk went down to the green knoll where
+Deirdre dwelt and he knocked at the door of the bothy. The nurse
+replied, "No less than a king's command and a king's army could put me
+out of my bothy to-night. And I should be obliged to you, were you to
+tell who it is that wants me to open my bothy door."
+
+"It is I, Connachar, King of Ulster." When the poor woman heard who was
+at the door, she rose with haste and let in the king and all that could
+get in of his retinue.
+
+When the king saw the woman that was before him that he had been in
+quest of, he thought he never saw in the course of the day nor in the
+dream of night a creature so fair as Deirdre and he gave his full
+heart's weight of love to her. Deirdre was raised on the topmost of the
+heroes' shoulders and she and her foster-mother were brought to the
+Court of King Connachar of Ulster.
+
+With the love that Connachar had for her, he wanted to marry Deirdre
+right off there and then, will she nill she marry him. But she said to
+him, "I would be obliged to you if you will give me the respite of a
+year and a day." He said "I will grant you that, hard though it is, if
+you will give me your unfailing promise that you will marry me at the
+year's end." And she gave the promise. Connachar got for her a
+woman-teacher and merry modest maidens fair that would lie down and
+rise with her, that would play and speak with her. Deirdre was clever
+in maidenly duties and wifely understanding, and Connachar thought he
+never saw with bodily eye a creature that pleased him more.
+
+Deirdre and her women companions were one day out on the hillock behind
+the house enjoying the scene, and drinking in the sun's heat. What did
+they see coming but three men a-journeying. Deirdre was looking at the
+men that were coming, and wondering at them. When the men neared them,
+Deirdre remembered the language of the huntsman, and she said to
+herself that these were the three sons of Uisnech, and that this was
+Naois, he having what was above the bend of the two shoulders above the
+men of Erin all. The three brothers went past without taking any notice
+of them, without even glancing at the young girls on the hillock. What
+happened but that love for Naois struck the heart of Deirdre, so that
+she could not but follow after him. She girded up her raiment and went
+after the men that went past the base of the knoll, leaving her women
+attendants there. Allen and Arden had heard of the woman that
+Connachar, King of Ulster, had with him, and they thought that, if
+Naois, their brother, saw her, he would have her himself, more
+especially as she was not married to the King. They perceived the woman
+coming, and called on one another to hasten their step as they had a
+long distance to travel, and the dusk of night was coming on. They did
+so. She cried: "Naois, son of Uisnech, will you leave me?" "What
+piercing, shrill cry is that--the most melodious my ear ever heard, and
+the shrillest that ever struck my heart of all the cries I ever heard?"
+"It is anything else but the wail of the wave-swans of Connachar," said
+his brothers. "No! yonder is a woman's cry of distress," said Naois,
+and he swore he would not go further until he saw from whom the cry
+came, and Naois turned back. Naois and Deirdre met, and Deirdre kissed
+Naois three times, and a kiss each to his brothers. With the confusion
+that she was in, Deirdre went into a crimson blaze of fire, and her
+colour came and went as rapidly as the movement of the aspen by the
+stream side. Naois thought he never saw a fairer creature, and Naois
+gave Deirdre the love that he never gave to thing, to vision, or to
+creature but to herself.
+
+Then Naois placed Deirdre on the topmost height of his shoulder, and
+told his brothers to keep up their pace, and they kept up their pace.
+Naois thought that it would not be well for him to remain in Erin on
+account of the way in which Connachar, King of Ulster, his uncle's son,
+had gone against him because of the woman, though he had not married
+her; and he turned back to Alba, that is, Scotland. He reached the side
+of Loch-Ness and made his habitation there. He could kill the salmon of
+the torrent from out his own door, and the deer of the grey gorge from
+out his window. Naois and Deirdre and Allen and Arden dwelt in a tower,
+and they were happy so long a time as they were there.
+
+By this time the end of the period came at which Deirdre had to marry
+Connachar, King of Ulster. Connachar made up his mind to take Deirdre
+away by the sword whether she was married to Naois or not. So he
+prepared a great and gleeful feast. He sent word far and wide through
+Erin all to his kinspeople to come to the feast. Connachar thought to
+himself that Naois would not come though he should bid him; and the
+scheme that arose in his mind was to send for his father's brother,
+Ferchar Mac Ro, and to send him on an embassy to Naois. He did so; and
+Connachar said to Ferchar, "Tell Naois, son of Uisnech, that I am
+setting forth a great and gleeful feast to my friends and kinspeople
+throughout the wide extent of Erin all, and that I shall not have rest
+by day nor sleep by night if he and Allen and Arden be not partakers of
+the feast."
+
+Ferchar Mac Ro and his three sons went on their journey, and reached
+the tower where Naois was dwelling by the side of Loch Etive. The sons
+of Uisnech gave a cordial kindly welcome to Ferchar Mac Ro and his
+three sons, and asked of him the news of Erin. "The best news that I
+have for you," said the hardy hero, "is that Connachar, King of Ulster,
+is setting forth a great sumptuous feast to his friends and kinspeople
+throughout the wide extent of Erin all, and he has vowed by the earth
+beneath him, by the high heaven above him, and by the sun that wends to
+the west, that he will have no rest by day nor sleep by night if the
+sons of Uisnech, the sons of his own father's brother, will not come
+back to the land of their home and the soil of their nativity, and to
+the feast likewise, and he has sent us on embassy to invite you."
+
+"We will go with you," said Naois.
+
+"We will," said his brothers.
+
+But Deirdre did not wish to go with Ferchar Mac Ro, and she tried every
+prayer to turn Naois from going with him--she said:
+
+"I saw a vision, Naois, and do you interpret it to me," said
+Deirdre--then she sang:
+
+  O Naois, son of Uisnech, hear
+  What was shown in a dream to me.
+
+  There came three white doves out of the South
+    Flying over the sea,
+  And drops of honey were in their mouth
+    From the hive of the honey-bee.
+
+  O Naois, son of Uisnech, hear,
+  What was shown in a dream to me.
+
+  I saw three grey hawks out of the south
+    Come flying over the sea,
+  And the red red drops they bare in their mouth
+    They were dearer than life to me.
+
+Said Naois:--
+
+  It is nought but the fear of woman's heart,
+  And a dream of the night, Deirdre.
+
+"The day that Connachar sent the invitation to his feast will be
+unlucky for us if we don't go, O Deirdre."
+
+"You will go there," said Ferchar Mac Ro; "and if Connachar show
+kindness to you, show ye kindness to him; and if he will display wrath
+towards you display ye wrath towards him, and I and my three sons will
+be with you."
+
+"We will," said Daring Drop. "We will," said Hardy Holly. "We will,"
+said Fiallan the Fair.
+
+"I have three sons, and they are three heroes, and in any harm or
+danger that may befall you, they will be with you, and I myself will be
+along with them." And Ferchar Mac Ro gave his vow and his word in
+presence of his arms that, in any harm or danger that came in the way
+of the sons of Uisnech, he and his three sons would not leave head on
+live body in Erin, despite sword or helmet, spear or shield, blade or
+mail, be they ever so good.
+
+Deirdre was unwilling to leave Alba, but she went with Naois. Deirdre
+wept tears in showers and she sang:
+
+  Dear is the land, the land over there,
+    Alba full of woods and lakes;
+  Bitter to my heart is leaving thee,
+    But I go away with Naois.
+
+Ferchar Mac Ro did not stop till he got the sons of Uisnech away with
+him, despite the suspicion of Deirdre.
+
+  The coracle was put to sea,
+    The sail was hoisted to it;
+  And the second morrow they arrived
+    On the white shores of Erin.
+
+As soon as the sons of Uisnech landed in Erin, Ferchar Mac Ro sent word
+to Connachar, king of Ulster, that the men whom he wanted were come,
+and let him now show kindness to them. "Well," said Connachar, "I did
+not expect that the sons of Uisnech would come, though I sent for them,
+and I am not quite ready to receive them. But there is a house down
+yonder where I keep strangers, and let them go down to it today, and my
+house will be ready before them tomorrow."
+
+But he that was up in the palace felt it long that he was not getting
+word as to how matters were going on for those down in the house of the
+strangers. "Go you, Gelban Grednach, son of Lochlin's King, go you down
+and bring me information as to whether her former hue and complexion
+are on Deirdre. If they be, I will take her out with edge of blade and
+point of sword, and if not, let Naois, son of Uisnech, have her for
+himself," said Connachar.
+
+Gelban, the cheering and charming son of Lochlin's King, went down to
+the place of the strangers, where the sons of Uisnech and Deirdre were
+staying. He looked in through the bicker-hole on the door-leaf. Now she
+that he gazed upon used to go into a crimson blaze of blushes when any
+one looked at her. Naois looked at Deirdre and knew that some one was
+looking at her from the back of the door-leaf. He seized one of the
+dice on the table before him and fired it through the bicker-hole, and
+knocked the eye out of Gelban Grednach the Cheerful and Charming, right
+through the back of his head. Gelban returned back to the palace of
+King Connachar.
+
+"You were cheerful, charming, going away, but you are cheerless,
+charmless, returning. What has happened to you, Gelban? But have you
+seen her, and are Deirdre's hue and complexion as before?" said
+Connachar.
+
+"Well, I have seen Deirdre, and I saw her also truly, and while I was
+looking at her through the bicker-hole on the door, Naois, son of
+Uisnech, knocked out my eye with one of the dice in his hand. But of a
+truth and verity, although he put out even my eye, it were my desire
+still to remain looking at her with the other eye, were it not for the
+hurry you told me to be in," said Gelban.
+
+"That is true," said Connachar; "let three hundred bravo heroes go down
+to the abode of the strangers, and let them bring hither to me Deirdre,
+and kill the rest."
+
+Connachar ordered three hundred active heroes to go down to the abode
+of the strangers and to take Deirdre up with them and kill the rest.
+"The pursuit is coming," said Deirdre.
+
+"Yes, but I will myself go out and stop the pursuit," said Naois.
+
+"It is not you, but we that will go," said Daring Drop, and Hardy
+Holly, and Fiallan the Fair; "it is to us that our father entrusted
+your defence from harm and danger when he himself left for home." And
+the gallant youths, full noble, full manly, full handsome, with
+beauteous brown locks, went forth girt with battle arms fit for fierce
+fight and clothed with combat dress for fierce contest fit, which was
+burnished, bright, brilliant, bladed, blazing, on which were many
+pictures of beasts and birds and creeping things, lions and
+lithe-limbed tigers, brown eagle and harrying hawk and adder fierce;
+and the young heroes laid low three-thirds of the company.
+
+Connachar came out in haste and cried with wrath: "Who is there on the
+floor of fight, slaughtering my men?"
+
+"We, the three sons of Ferchar Mac Ro."
+
+"Well," said the king, "I will give a free bridge to your grandfather,
+a free bridge to your father, and a free bridge each to you three
+brothers, if you come over to my side tonight."
+
+"Well, Connachar, we will not accept that offer from you nor thank you
+for it. Greater by far do we prefer to go home to our father and tell
+the deeds of heroism we have done, than accept anything on these terms
+from you. Naois, son of Uisnech, and Allen and Arden are as nearly
+related to yourself as they are to us, though you are so keen to shed
+their blood, and you would shed our blood also, Connachar." And the
+noble, manly, handsome youths with beauteous, brown locks returned
+inside. "We are now," said they, "going home to tell our father that
+you are now safe from the hands of the king." And the youths all fresh
+and tall and lithe and beautiful, went home to their father to tell
+that the sons of Uisnech were safe. This happened at the parting of the
+day and night in the morning twilight time, and Naois said they must go
+away, leave that house, and return to Alba.
+
+Naois and Deirdre, Allan and Arden started to return to Alba. Word came
+to the king that the company he was in pursuit of were gone. The king
+then sent for Duanan Gacha Druid, the best magician he had, and he
+spoke to him as follows:--"Much wealth have I expended on you, Duanan
+Gacha Druid, to give schooling and learning and magic mystery to you,
+if these people get away from me today without care, without
+consideration or regard for me, without chance of overtaking them, and
+without power to stop them."
+
+"Well, I will stop them," said the magician, "until the company you
+send in pursuit return." And the magician placed a wood before them
+through which no man could go, but the sons of Uisnech marched through
+the wood without halt or hesitation, and Deirdre held on to Naois's
+hand.
+
+"What is the good of that? that will not do yet," said Connachar. "They
+are off without bending of their feet or stopping of their step,
+without heed or respect to me, and I am without power to keep up to
+them or opportunity to turn them back this night."
+
+"I will try another plan on them," said the druid; and he placed before
+them a grey sea instead of a green plain. The three heroes stripped and
+tied their clothes behind their heads, and Naois placed Deirdre on the
+top of his shoulder.
+
+  They stretched their sides to the stream,
+    And sea and land were to them the same,
+  The rough grey ocean was the same
+    As meadow-land green and plain.
+
+"Though that be good, O Duanan, it will not make the heroes return,"
+said Connachar; "they are gone without regard for me, and without
+honour to me, and without power on my part to pursue them or to force
+them to return this night."
+
+"We shall try another method on them, since yon one did not stop them,"
+said the druid. And the druid froze the grey ridged sea into hard rocky
+knobs, the sharpness of sword being on the one edge and the poison
+power of adders on the other. Then Arden cried that he was getting
+tired, and nearly giving over. "Come you, Arden, and sit on my right
+shoulder," said Naois. Arden came and sat, on Naois's shoulder. Arden
+was long in this posture when he died; but though he was dead Naois
+would not let him go. Allen then cried out that he was getting faint
+and nigh-well giving up. When Naois heard his prayer, he gave forth the
+piercing sigh of death, and asked Allen to lay hold of him and he would
+bring him to land.
+
+Allen was not long when the weakness of death came on him and his hold
+failed. Naois looked around, and when he saw his two well-beloved
+brothers dead, he cared not whether he lived or died, and he gave forth
+the bitter sigh of death, and his heart burst.
+
+"They are gone," said Duanan Gacha Druid to the king, "and I have done
+what you desired me. The sons of Uisnech are dead and they will trouble
+you no more; and you have your wife hale and whole to yourself."
+
+"Blessings for that upon you and may the good results accrue to me,
+Duanan. I count it no loss what I spent in the schooling and teaching
+of you. Now dry up the flood, and let me see if I can behold Deirdre,"
+said Connachar. And Duanan Gacha Druid dried up the flood from the
+plain and the three sons of Uisnech were lying together dead, without
+breath of life, side by side on the green meadow plain and Deirdre
+bending above showering down her tears.
+
+Then Deirdre said this lament: "Fair one, loved one, flower of beauty;
+beloved upright and strong; beloved noble and modest warrior. Fair one,
+blue-eyed, beloved of thy wife; lovely to me at the trysting-place came
+thy clear voice through the woods of Ireland. I cannot eat or smile
+henceforth. Break not to-day, my heart: soon enough shall I lie within
+my grave. Strong are the waves of sorrow, but stronger is sorrow's
+self, Connachar."
+
+The people then gathered round the heroes' bodies and asked Connachar
+what was to be done with the bodies. The order that he gave was that
+they should dig a pit and put the three brothers in it side by side.
+
+Deirdre kept sitting on the brink of the grave, constantly asking the
+gravediggers to dig the pit wide and free. When the bodies of the
+brothers were put in the grave, Deirdre said:--
+
+  Come over hither, Naois, my love,
+  Let Arden close to Allen lie;
+  If the dead had any sense to feel,
+  Ye would have made a place for Deirdre.
+
+The men did as she told them. She jumped into the grave and lay down by
+Naois, and she was dead by his side.
+
+The king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to be
+buried on the other side of the loch. It was done as the king bade, and
+the pit closed. Thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave of Deirdre
+and a fir shoot from the grave of Naois, and the two shoots united in a
+knot above the loch. The king ordered the shoots to be cut down, and
+this was done twice, until, at the third time, the wife whom the king
+had married caused him to stop this work of evil and his vengeance on
+the remains of the dead.
+
+
+
+
+MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR
+
+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 now they would not be
+alive then. 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 to hang Manachar, who ate his raspberries
+every one; and he came to the rod. "What news the day?" said the rod.
+"It is my own news that I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" said the axe. "It's my own news
+I'm seeking. 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. "What news today?" says the flag. "It's my own
+news I'm seeking. Going looking for a 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," says the flag, "till you get water to wet me."
+He came to the water. "What news to-day?" says the water. "It's my own
+news that I'm seeking. Going looking for 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 water, "until you get a deer who will
+swim me." He came to the deer. "What news to-day?" says the deer. "It's
+my own news I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" says the hound.
+"It's my own news I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" says the
+butter. "It's my own news I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" said the cat. "It's
+my own news I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" said the cow.
+"It's my own news I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" said the threshers. "It's my own news
+I'm seeking. 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. "What news to-day?" said the miller. "It's my
+own news I'm seeking. 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 blessings on ye, 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 to hang Manachar he found that Manachar had BURST.
+
+
+
+
+GOLD-TREE AND SILVER-TREE
+
+Once upon a time there was a king who had a wife, whose name was
+Silver-tree, and a daughter, whose name was Gold-tree. On a certain day
+of the days, Gold-tree and Silver-tree went to a glen, where there was
+a well, and in it there was a trout.
+
+Said Silver-tree, "Troutie, bonny little fellow, am not I the most
+beautiful queen in the world?"
+
+"Oh! indeed you are not."
+
+"Who then?"
+
+"Why, Gold-tree, your daughter."
+
+Silver-tree went home, blind with rage. She lay down on the bed, and
+vowed she would never be well until she could get the heart and the
+liver of Gold-tree, her daughter, to eat.
+
+At nightfall the king came home, and it was told him that Silver-tree,
+his wife, was very ill. He went where she was, and asked her what was
+wrong with her.
+
+"Oh! only a thing--which you may heal if you like."
+
+"Oh! indeed there is nothing at all which I could do for you that I
+would not do."
+
+"If I get the heart and the liver of Gold-tree, my daughter, to eat, I
+shall be well."
+
+Now it happened about this time that the son of a great king had come
+from abroad to ask Gold-tree for marrying. The king now agreed to this,
+and they went abroad.
+
+The king then went and sent his lads to the hunting-hill for a he-goat,
+and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife to eat; and she rose
+well and healthy.
+
+A year after this Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the
+well in which there was the trout.
+
+"Troutie, bonny little fellow," said she, "am not I the most beautiful
+queen in the world?"
+
+"Oh! indeed you are not."
+
+"Who then?"
+
+"Why, Gold-tree, your daughter."
+
+"Oh! well, it is long since she was living. It is a year since I ate
+her heart and liver."
+
+"Oh! indeed she is not dead. She is married to a great prince abroad."
+
+Silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in
+order, and said, "I am going to see my dear Gold-tree, for it is so
+long since I saw her." The long-ship was put in order, and they went
+away.
+
+It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the
+ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.
+
+The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew the long-ship
+of her father coming.
+
+"Oh!" said she to the servants, "my mother is coming, and she will kill
+me."
+
+"She shall not kill you at all; we will lock you in a room where she
+cannot get near you."
+
+This is how it was done; and when Silver-tree came ashore, she began to
+cry out:
+
+"Come to meet your own mother, when she comes to see you," Gold-tree
+said that she could not, that she was locked in the room, and that she
+could not get out of it.
+
+"Will you not put out," said Silver-tree, "your little finger through
+the key-hole, so that your own mother may give a kiss to it?"
+
+She put out her little finger, and Silver-tree went and put a poisoned
+stab in it, and Gold-tree fell dead.
+
+When the prince came home, and found Gold-tree dead, he was in great
+sorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was, he did not bury her at
+all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her.
+
+In the course of time he married again, and the whole house was under
+the hand of this wife but one room, and he himself always kept the key
+of that room. On a certain day of the days he forgot to take the key
+with him, and the second wife got into the room. What did she see there
+but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw.
+
+She began to turn and try to wake her, and she noticed the poisoned
+stab in her finger. She took the stab out, and Gold-tree rose alive, as
+beautiful as she was ever.
+
+At the fall of night the prince came home from the hunting-hill,
+looking very downcast.
+
+"What gift," said his wife, "would you give me that I could make you
+laugh?"
+
+"Oh! indeed, nothing could make me laugh, except Gold-tree were to come
+alive again."
+
+"Well, you'll find her alive down there in the room."
+
+When the prince saw Gold-tree alive he made great rejoicings, and he
+began to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Said the second wife,
+"Since she is the first one you had it is better for you to stick to
+her, and I will go away."
+
+"Oh! indeed you shall not go away, but I shall have both of you."
+
+At the end of the year, Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was
+the well, in which there was the trout.
+
+"Troutie, bonny little fellow," said she, "am not I the most beautiful
+queen in the world?"
+
+"Oh! indeed you are not."
+
+"Who then?"
+
+"Why, Gold-tree, your daughter."
+
+"Oh! well, she is not alive. It is a year since I put the poisoned stab
+into her finger."
+
+"Oh! indeed she is not dead at all, at all."
+
+Silver-tree, went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in
+order, for that she was going to see her dear Gold-tree, as it was so
+long since she saw her. The long-ship was put in order, and they went
+away. It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered
+the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.
+
+The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew her father's
+ship coming.
+
+"Oh!" said she, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me."
+
+"Not at all," said the second wife; "we will go down to meet her."
+
+Silver-tree came ashore. "Come down, Gold-tree, love," said she, "for
+your own mother has come to you with a precious drink."
+
+"It is a custom in this country," said the second wife, "that the
+person who offers a drink takes a draught out of it first."
+
+Silver-tree put her mouth to it, and the second wife went and struck it
+so that some of it went down her throat, and she fell dead. They had
+only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her.
+
+The prince and his two wives were long alive after this, pleased and
+peaceful.
+
+I left them there.
+
+
+
+
+KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE
+
+Och, I thought all the world, far and near, had heerd o' King
+O'Toole--well, well, but the darkness of mankind is untellible! 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 old king in the old ancient times,
+long ago; and it was he that owned the churches in the early days. The
+king, you see, was the right sort; he was the real boy, and loved sport
+as he loved his life, and hunting in particular; and from the rising o'
+the sun, up he got, and away he went over the mountains after the deer;
+and fine times they were.
+
+Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health; but,
+you see, in course of time the king grew old, by raison he was stiff in
+his limbs, and when he got stricken in years, his heart failed him, and
+he was lost entirely for want o' diversion, because he couldn't go
+a-hunting no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was obliged at last to
+get a goose to divert him. Oh, you may laugh, if you like, but it's
+truth I'm telling you; and the way the goose diverted him was
+this-a-way: You see, the goose used to swim across the lake, and go
+diving for trout, and catch fish on a Friday for the king, and flew
+every other day round about the lake, diverting the poor king. All went
+on mighty well until, by dad, the goose got stricken in years like her
+master, and couldn't divert him no longer, and then it was that the
+poor king was lost entirely. The king was walkin' one mornin' by the
+edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, and thinking of drowning
+himself, that could get no diversion in life, when all of a sudden,
+turning round the corner, who should he meet but a mighty decent young
+man coming up to him.
+
+"God save you," says the king to the young man.
+
+"God save you kindly, King O'Toole," says the young man.
+
+"True for you," says the king. "I am King O'Toole," says he, "prince
+and plennypennytinchery of these parts," says he; "but how came 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 bold to ask how is your goose, King O'Toole?" says he.
+
+"Blur-an-agers, how came ye to know about my goose?" says the king.
+
+"Oh, no matter; 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' old 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 trade, King O'Toole; I've a
+better trade than a tinker," says he--"what would you say," says he,
+"if I made your old goose as good as new?"
+
+My dear, at the word of making his goose as good as new, you'd think
+the poor old king's eyes were ready to jump out of his head. With that
+the king whistled, and down came the poor goose, just like a hound,
+waddling up to the poor cripple, her master, and as like him as two
+peas. 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, I'll say you're the
+cleverest fellow in the seven 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 old goose for
+nothing; 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 ask," 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, after
+I make her as good as new?"
+
+"I will," says the king.
+
+"You won't go back o' your word?" says St. Kavin.
+
+"Honour bright!" says King O'Toole, holding out his fist.
+
+"Honour bright!" says St. Kavin, back agin, "it's a bargain. Come
+here!" says he to the poor old goose--"come here, you unfortunate ould
+cripple, and it's I that'll make you the sporting bird." With that, my
+dear, he took up the goose by the two wings--"Criss o' my cross an
+you," says he, markin' her to grace with the blessed sign at the same
+minute--and throwing her up in the air, "whew," says he, jist givin'
+her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, she took to her
+heels, flyin' like one o' the eagles themselves, and cutting as many
+capers as a swallow before a shower of rain.
+
+Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standing with
+his mouth open, looking at his poor old goose flying as light as a
+lark, and better than ever she was: and when she lit at his feet,
+patted her on 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 making her the
+like?"
+
+"By Jabers," says the king, "I say nothing beats the art o' man,
+barring the bees."
+
+"And do you say no more nor that?" says Saint Kavin.
+
+"And that I'm beholden 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 welcome to it," says he,
+"though it's the last acre I have to give."
+
+"But you'll keep your word true?" says the saint.
+
+"As true 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 the bit o' your goose would
+ever fly agin."
+
+When the king was as good as his word, Saint Kavin was pleased with
+him, and then it was that he made himself known to the king. "And,"
+says he, "King O'Toole, you're a decent man, for I only came here to
+try you. You don't know me," says he, "because I'm disguised."
+
+"Musha! then," says the king, "who are you?"
+
+"I'm Saint Kavin," said the saint, blessing himself.
+
+"Oh, queen of heaven!" says the king, making the sign of the cross
+between his eyes, and falling down on his knees before the saint; "is
+it the great Saint Kavin," says he, "that I've been discoursing all
+this time without knowing it," says he, "all as one as if he was a lump
+of a _gossoon_?--and so you're a saint?" says the king.
+
+"I am," says Saint Kavin.
+
+"By Jabers, I thought I was only talking to a dacent boy," says the
+king.
+
+"Well, you know the difference 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 divert him as long as
+he lived: and the saint supported him after he came into his property,
+as I told you, until the day of his death--and that was soon after; for
+the poor goose thought he was catching a trout one Friday; but, my
+jewel, it was a mistake he made--and instead of a trout, it was a
+thieving horse-eel; and instead of the goose killing a trout 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, because he darn't ate what Saint Kavin
+had laid his blessed hands on.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOOING OF OLWEN
+
+Shortly after the birth of Kilhuch, the son of King Kilyth, his mother
+died. Before her death she charged the king that he should not take a
+wife again until he saw a briar with two blossoms upon her grave, and
+the king sent every morning to see if anything were growing thereon.
+After many years the briar appeared, and he took to wife the widow of
+King Doged. She foretold to her stepson, Kilhuch, that it was his
+destiny to marry a maiden named Olwen, or none other, and he, at his
+father's bidding, went to the court of his cousin, King Arthur, to ask
+as a boon the hand of the maiden. He rode upon a grey steed with
+shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold, and a saddle also
+of gold. In his hand were two spears of silver, well-tempered, headed
+with steel, of an edge to wound the wind and cause blood to flow, and
+swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed grass upon
+the earth when the dew of June is at its heaviest. A gold-hilted sword
+was on his thigh, and the blade was of gold, having inlaid upon it a
+cross of the hue of the lightning of heaven. Two brindled,
+white-breasted greyhounds, with strong collars of rubies, sported round
+him, and his courser cast up four sods with its four hoofs like four
+swallows about his head. Upon the steed was a four-cornered cloth of
+purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner. Precious gold was upon
+the stirrups and shoes, and the blade of grass bent not beneath them,
+so light was the courser's tread as he went towards the gate of King
+Arthur's palace.
+
+Arthur received him with great ceremony, and asked him to remain at the
+palace; but the youth replied that he came not to consume meat and
+drink, but to ask a boon of the king.
+
+Then said Arthur, "Since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou
+shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the
+wind dries and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea
+encircles, and the earth extends, save only my ships and my mantle, my
+sword, my lance, my shield, my dagger, and Guinevere my wife."
+
+So Kilhuch craved of him the hand of Olwen, the daughter of Yspathaden
+Penkawr, and also asked the favour and aid of all Arthur's court.
+
+Then said Arthur, "O chieftain, I have never heard of the maiden of
+whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but I will gladly send
+messengers in search of her."
+
+And the youth said, "I will willingly grant from this night to that at
+the end of the year to do so."
+
+Then Arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek
+for the maiden; and at the end of the year Arthur's messengers returned
+without having gained any knowledge or information concerning Olwen
+more than on the first day.
+
+Then said Kilhuch, "Every one has received his boon, and I yet lack
+mine. I will depart and bear away thy honour with me."
+
+Then said Kay, "Rash chieftain! dost thou reproach Arthur? Go with us,
+and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden
+exists not in the world, or until we obtain her."
+
+Thereupon Kay rose up.
+
+Kay had this peculiarity, that his breath lasted nine nights and nine
+days under water, and he could exist nine nights and nine days without
+sleep. A wound from Kay's sword no physician could heal. Very subtle
+was Kay. When it pleased him he could render himself as tall as the
+highest tree in the forest. And he had another peculiarity--so great
+was the heat of his nature, that, when it rained hardest, whatever he
+carried remained dry for a handbreadth above and a handbreadth below
+his hand; and when his companions were coldest, it was to them as fuel
+with which to light their fire.
+
+And Arthur called Bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon
+which Kay was bound. None was equal to him in swiftness throughout this
+island except Arthur and Drych Ail Kibthar. And although he was
+one-handed, three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the
+field of battle. Another property he had; his lance would produce a
+wound equal to those of nine opposing lances.
+
+And Arthur called to Kynthelig the guide. "Go thou upon this expedition
+with the Chieftain." For as good a guide was he in a land which he had
+never seen as he was in his own.
+
+He called Gwrhyr Gwalstawt Ieithoedd, because he knew all tongues.
+
+He called Gwalchmai, the son of Gwyar, because he never returned home
+without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. He was the
+best of footmen and the best of knights. He was nephew to Arthur, the
+son of his sister, and his cousin.
+
+And Arthur called Menw, the son of Teirgwaeth, in order that if they
+went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over
+them, so that none might see them whilst they could see every one.
+
+They journeyed on till they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw
+a great castle, which was the fairest in the world. But so far away was
+it that at night it seemed no nearer, and they scarcely reached it on
+the third day. When they came before the castle they beheld a vast
+flock of sheep, boundless and without end. They told their errand to
+the herdsman, who endeavoured to dissuade them, since none who had come
+thither on that quest had returned alive. They gave to him a gold ring,
+which he conveyed to his wife, telling her who the visitors were.
+
+On the approach of the latter, she ran out with joy to greet them, and
+sought to throw her arms about their necks. But Kay, snatching a billet
+out of the pile, placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed
+it so that it became a twisted coil.
+
+"O woman," said Kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever
+again have set their affections on me. Evil love were this."
+
+They entered the house, and after meat she told them that the maiden
+Olwen came there every Saturday to wash. They pledged their faith that
+they would not harm her, and a message was sent to her. So Olwen came,
+clothed in a robe of flame-coloured silk, and with a collar of ruddy
+gold, in which were emeralds and rubies, about her neck. More golden
+was her hair than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than
+the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than
+the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow
+fountain. Brighter were her glances than those of a falcon; her bosom
+was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek redder than
+the reddest roses. Whoso beheld was filled with her love. Four white
+trefoils sprang up wherever she trod, and therefore was she called
+Olwen.
+
+Then Kilhuch, sitting beside her on a bench, told her his love, and she
+said that he would win her as his bride if he granted whatever her
+father asked.
+
+Accordingly they went up to the castle and laid their request before
+him.
+
+"Raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows which have fallen over my
+eyes," said Yspathaden Penkawr, "that I may see the fashion of my
+son-in-law."
+
+They did so, and he promised, them an answer on the morrow. But as they
+were going forth, Yspathaden seized one of the three poisoned darts
+that lay beside him and threw it back after them.
+
+And Bedwyr caught it and flung it back, wounding Yspathaden in the knee.
+
+Then said he, "A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. I shall ever walk
+the worse for his rudeness. This poisoned iron pains me like the bite
+of a gad-fly. Cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil whereon
+it was wrought."
+
+The knights rested in the house of Custennin the herdsman, but the next
+day at dawn they returned to the castle and renewed their request.
+
+Yspathaden said it was necessary that he should consult Olwen's four
+great-grandmothers and her four great-grand-sires.
+
+The knights again withdrew, and as they were going he took the second
+dart and cast it after them.
+
+But Menw caught it and flung it back, piercing Yspathaden's breast with
+it, so that it came out at the small of his back.
+
+"A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly," says he, "the hard iron pains me
+like the bite of a horse-leech. Cursed be the hearth whereon it was
+heated! Henceforth whenever I go up a hill, I shall have a scant in my
+breath and a pain in my chest."
+
+On the third day the knights returned once more to the palace, and
+Yspathaden took the third dart and cast it at them.
+
+But Kilhuch caught it and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through
+the eyeball, so that the dart came out at the back of his head.
+
+"A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. As long as I remain alive my
+eyesight will be the worse. Whenever I go against the wind my eyes will
+water, and peradventure my head will burn, and I shall have a giddiness
+every new moon. Cursed be the fire in which it was forged. Like the
+bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron."
+
+And they went to meat.
+
+Said Yspathaden Penkawr, "Is it thou that seekest my daughter?"
+
+"It is I," answered Kilhuch.
+
+"I must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do towards me otherwise than
+is just, and when I have gotten that which I shall name, my daughter
+thou shalt have."
+
+"I promise thee that willingly," said Kilhuch, "name what thou wilt."
+
+"I will do so," said he.
+
+"Throughout the world there is not a comb or scissors with which I can
+arrange my hair, on, account of its rankness, except the comb and
+scissors that are between the two ears of Turch Truith, the son of
+Prince Tared. He will not give them of his own free will, and thou wilt
+not be able to compel him."
+
+"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think
+that it will not be easy."
+
+"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. It
+will not be possible to hunt Turch Truith without Drudwyn the whelp of
+Greid, the son of Eri, and know that throughout the world there is not
+a huntsman who can hunt with this dog, except Mabon the son of Modron.
+He was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known
+where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead."
+
+"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think
+that it will not be easy."
+
+"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. Thou
+wilt not get Mabon, for it is not known where he is, unless thou find
+Eidoel, his kinsman in blood, the son of Aer. For it would be useless
+to seek for him. He is his cousin."
+
+"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think
+that it will not be easy. Horses shall I have, and chivalry; and my
+lord and kinsman Arthur will obtain for me all these things. And I
+shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life."
+
+"Go forward. And thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for
+my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast
+compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for wife."
+
+Now, when they told Arthur how they had sped, Arthur said, "Which of
+these marvels will it be best for us to seek first?"
+
+"It will be best," said they, "to seek Mabon the son of Modron; and he
+will not be found unless we first find Eidoel, the son of Aer, his
+kinsman."
+
+Then Arthur rose up, and the warriors of the Islands of Britain with
+him, to seek for Eidoel; and they proceeded until they came before the
+castle of Glivi, where Eidoel was imprisoned.
+
+Glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and said, "Arthur, what
+requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and
+I have neither joy nor pleasure in it; neither wheat nor oats?"
+
+Said Arthur, "Not to injure thee came I hither, but to seek for the
+prisoner that is with thee."
+
+"I will give thee my prisoner, though I had not thought to give him up
+to any one; and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid."
+
+His followers then said unto Arthur, "Lord, go thou home, thou canst
+not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these."
+
+Then said Arthur, "It were well for thee, Gwrhyr Gwalstawt Ieithoedd,
+to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar
+with those of the birds and the beasts. Go, Eidoel, likewise with my
+men in search of thy cousin. And as for you, Kay and Bedwyr, I have
+hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it.
+Achieve ye this adventure for me."
+
+These went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri, and Gwrhyr
+adjured her for the sake of Heaven, saying, "Tell me if thou knowest
+aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken when three nights old
+from between his mother and the wall."
+
+And the Ousel answered, "When I first came here there was a smith's
+anvil in this place, and I was then a young bird, and from that time no
+work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening,
+and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof;
+yet the vengeance of Heaven be upon me if during all that time I have
+ever heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, there is a
+race of animals who were formed before me, and I will be your guide to
+them."
+
+So they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Redynvre.
+
+"Stag of Redynvre, behold we are come to thee, an embassy from Arthur,
+for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. Say, knowest thou
+aught of Mabon?"
+
+The stag said, "When first I came hither there was a plain all around
+me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak
+with an hundred branches. And that oak has since perished, so that now
+nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this
+I have been here, yet have I never heard of the man for whom you
+inquire. Nevertheless, I will be your guide to the place where there is
+an animal which was formed before I was."
+
+So they proceeded to the place where was the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd, to
+inquire of him concerning Mabon.
+
+And the owl said, "If I knew I would tell you. When first I came
+hither, the wide valley you see was a wooded glen. And a race of men
+came and rooted it up. And there grew there a second wood, and this
+wood is the third. My wings, are they not withered stumps? Yet all this
+time, even until to-day, I have never heard of the man for whom you
+inquire. Nevertheless, I will be the guide of Arthur's embassy until
+you come to the place where is the oldest animal in this world, and the
+one who has travelled most, the eagle of Gwern Abwy."
+
+When they came to the eagle, Gwrhyr asked it the same question; but it
+replied, "I have been here for a great space of time, and when I first
+came hither there was a rock here, from the top of which I pecked at
+the stars every evening, and now it is not so much as a span high. From
+that day to this I have been here, and I have never heard of the man
+for whom you inquire, except once when I went in search of food as far
+as Llyn Llyw.  And when I came there, I struck my talons into a salmon,
+thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But he drew me into
+the deep, and I was scarcely able to escape from him. After that I went
+with my whole kindred to attack him and to try to destroy him, but he
+sent messengers and made peace with me, and came and besought me to
+take fifty fish-spears out of his back. Unless he know something of him
+whom you seek, I cannot tell you who may. However, I will guide you to
+the place where he is."
+
+So they went thither, and the eagle said, "Salmon of Llyn Llyw, I have
+come to thee with an embassy from Arthur to ask thee if thou knowest
+aught concerning Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken away at three
+nights old from between his mother and the wall."
+
+And the salmon answered, "As much as I know I will tell thee. With
+every tide I go along the river upwards, until I come near to the walls
+of Gloucester, and there have I found such wrong as I never found
+elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of
+you go thither upon each of my two shoulders."
+
+So Kay and Gwrhyr went upon his shoulders, and they proceeded till they
+came to the wall of the prison, and they heard a great wailing and
+lamenting from the dungeon. Said Gwrhyr, "Who is it that laments in
+this house of stone?"
+
+And the voice replied, "Alas, it is Mabon, the son of Modron, who is
+here imprisoned!"
+
+Then they returned and told Arthur, who, summoning his warriors,
+attacked the castle.
+
+And whilst the fight was going on, Kay and Bedwyr, mounting on the
+shoulders of the fish, broke into the dungeon, and brought away with
+them Mabon, the son of Modron.
+
+Then Arthur summoned unto him all the warriors that were in the three
+islands of Britain and in the three islands adjacent; and he went as
+far as Esgeir Ocrvel in Ireland where the Boar Truith was with his
+seven young pigs. And the dogs were let loose upon him from all sides.
+But he wasted the fifth part of Ireland, and then set forth through the
+sea to Wales. Arthur and his hosts, and his horses, and his dogs
+followed hard after him. But ever and awhile the boar made a stand, and
+many a champion of Arthur's did he slay. Throughout all Wales did
+Arthur follow him, and one by one the young pigs were killed. At
+length, when he would fain have crossed the Severn and escaped into
+Cornwall, Mabon the son of Modron came up with him, and Arthur fell
+upon him together with the champions of Britain. On the one side Mabon
+the son of Modron spurred his steed and snatched his razor from him,
+whilst Kay came up with him on the other side and took from him the
+scissors. But before they could obtain the comb he had regained the
+ground with his feet, and from the moment that he reached the shore,
+neither dog nor man nor horse could overtake him until he came to
+Cornwall. There Arthur and his hosts followed in his track until they
+overtook him in Cornwall. Hard had been their trouble before, but it
+was child's play to what they met in seeking the comb. Win it they did,
+and the Boar Truith they hunted into the deep sea, and it was never
+known whither he went.
+
+Then Kilhuch set forward, and as many as wished ill to Yspathaden
+Penkawr. And they took the marvels with them to his court. And Kaw of
+North Britain came and shaved his beard, skin and flesh clean off to
+the very bone from ear to ear.
+
+"Art thou shaved, man?" said Kilhuch.
+
+"I am shaved," answered he.
+
+"Is thy daughter mine now?"
+
+"She is thine, but therefore needst thou not thank me, but Arthur who
+hath accomplished this for thee. By my free will thou shouldst never
+have had her, for with her I lose my life."
+
+Then Goreu the son of Custennin seized him by the hair of his head and
+dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head and placed it
+on a stake on the citadel.
+
+Thereafter the hosts of Arthur dispersed themselves each man to his own
+country.
+
+Thus did Kilhuch son of Kelython win to wife Olwen, the daughter of
+Yspathaden Penkawr.
+
+
+
+
+JACK AND HIS COMRADES
+
+Once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she had one
+son. A very scarce summer came, and they didn't know how they'd live
+till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. So Jack said to his
+mother one evening, "Mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, till I go
+seek my fortune; and if I meet it, never fear but I'll soon be back to
+share it with you."
+
+So she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on his
+journey. His mother came along with him to the yard gate, and says she,
+"Jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half the hen with
+my blessing, or the whole of 'em with my curse?"
+
+"O musha, mother," says Jack, "why do you ax me that question? sure you
+know I wouldn't have your curse and Damer's estate along with it."
+
+"Well, then, Jack," says she, "here's the whole lot of 'em with my
+thousand blessings along with them." So she stood on the yard fence and
+blessed him as far as her eyes could see him.
+
+Well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne'er a farmer's
+house he went into wanted a boy. At last his road led by the side of a
+bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders near a big bunch of
+grass he was striving to come at.
+
+"Ah, then, Jack asthore," says he, "help me out or I'll be drowned."
+
+"Never say't twice," says Jack, and he pitched in big stones and sods
+into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him.
+
+"Thank you, Jack," says he, when he was out on the hard road; "I'll do
+as much for you another time. Where are you going?"
+
+"Faith, I'm going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, God bless
+it!"
+
+"And if you like," says the ass, "I'll go along with you; who knows
+what luck we may have!"
+
+"With all my heart, it's getting late, let us be jogging."
+
+Well, they were going through a village, and a whole army of gossoons
+were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. He ran up to
+Jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out of him, that the
+little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boy was after them.
+
+"More power to you, Jack," says the dog.
+
+"I'm much obleeged to you: where is the baste and yourself going?"
+
+"We're going to seek our fortune till harvest comes in."
+
+"And wouldn't I be proud to go with you!" says the dog, "and get rid of
+them ill conducted boys; purshuin' to 'em."
+
+"Well, well, throw your tail over your arm, and come along."
+
+They got outside the town, and sat down under an old wall, and Jack
+pulled out his bread and meat, and shared with the dog; and the ass
+made his dinner on a bunch of thistles. While they were eating and
+chatting, what should come by but a poor half-starved cat, and the
+moll-row he gave out of him would make your heart ache.
+
+"You look as if you saw the tops of nine houses since breakfast," says
+Jack; "here's a bone and something on it."
+
+"May your child never know a hungry belly!" says Tom; "it's myself
+that's in need of your kindness. May I be so bold as to ask where yez
+are all going?"
+
+"We're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in, and you may
+join us if you like."
+
+"And that I'll do with a heart and a half," says the cat, "and thank'ee
+for asking me."'
+
+Off they set again, and just as the shadows of the trees were three
+times as long as themselves, they heard a great cackling in a field
+inside the road, and out over the ditch jumped a fox with a fine black
+cock in his mouth.
+
+"Oh, you anointed villain!" says the ass, roaring like thunder.
+
+"At him, good dog!" says Jack, and the word wasn't out of his mouth
+when Coley was in full sweep after the Red Dog. Reynard dropped his
+prize like a hot potato, and was off like shot, and the poor cock came
+back fluttering and trembling to Jack and his comrades.
+
+"O musha, naybours!" says he, "wasn't it the height o' luck that threw
+you in my way! Maybe I won't remember your kindness if ever I find you
+in hardship; and where in the world are you all going?"
+
+"We're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in; you may
+join our party if you like, and sit on Neddy's crupper when your legs
+and wings are tired."
+
+Well, the march began again, and just as the sun was gone down they
+looked around, and there was neither cabin nor farm house in sight.
+
+"Well, well," says Jack, "the worse luck now the better another time,
+and it's only a summer night after all. We'll go into the wood, and
+make our bed on the long grass."
+
+No sooner said than done. Jack stretched himself on a bunch of dry
+grass, the ass lay near him, the dog and cat lay in the ass's warm lap,
+and the cock went to roost in the next tree.
+
+Well, the soundness of deep sleep was over them all, when the cock took
+a notion of crowing.
+
+"Bother you, Black Cock!" says the ass: "you disturbed me from as nice
+a wisp of hay as ever I tasted. What's the matter?"
+
+"It's daybreak that's the matter: don't you see light yonder?"
+
+"I see a light indeed," says Jack, "but it's from a candle it's coming,
+and not from the sun. As you've roused us we may as well go over, and
+ask for lodging."
+
+So they all shook themselves, and went on through grass, and rocks, and
+briars, till they got down into a hollow, and there was the light
+coming through the shadow, and along with it came singing, and
+laughing, and cursing.
+
+"Easy, boys!" says Jack: "walk on your tippy toes till we see what sort
+of people we have to deal with."
+
+So they crept near the window, and there they saw six robbers inside,
+with pistols, and blunderbushes, and cutlashes, sitting at a table,
+eating roast beef and pork, and drinking mulled beer, and wine, and
+whisky punch.
+
+"Wasn't that a fine haul we made at the Lord of Dunlavin's!" says one
+ugly-looking thief with his mouth full, "and it's little we'd get only
+for the honest porter! here's his purty health!"
+
+"The porter's purty health!" cried out every one of them, and Jack bent
+his finger at his comrades.
+
+"Close your ranks, my men," says he in a whisper, "and let every one
+mind the word of command."
+
+So the ass put his fore-hoofs on the sill of the window, the dog got on
+the ass's head, the cat on the dog's head, and the cock on the cat's
+head. Then Jack made a sign, and they all sung out like mad.
+
+"Hee-haw, hee-haw!" roared the ass; "bow-wow!" barked the dog;
+"meaw-meaw!" cried the cat; "cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the cock.
+
+"Level your pistols!" cried Jack, "and make smithereens of 'em. Don't
+leave a mother's son of 'em alive; present, fire!"  With that they gave
+another halloo, and smashed every pane in the window. The robbers were
+frightened out of their lives. They blew out the candles, threw down
+the table, and skelped out at the back door as if they were in earnest,
+and never drew rein till they were in the very heart of the wood.
+
+Jack and his party got into the room, closed the shutters, lighted the
+candles, and ate and drank till hunger and thirst were gone. Then they
+lay down to rest;--Jack in the bed, the ass in the stable, the dog on
+the door-mat, the cat by the fire, and the cock on the perch.
+
+At first the robbers were very glad to find themselves safe in the
+thick wood, but they soon began to get vexed.
+
+"This damp grass is very different from our warm room," says one.
+
+"I was obliged to drop a fine pig's foot," says another.
+
+"I didn't get a tayspoonful of my last tumbler," says another.
+
+"And all the Lord of Dunlavin's gold and silver that we left behind!"
+says the last.
+
+"I think I'll venture back," says the captain, "and see if we can
+recover anything."
+
+"That's a good boy!" said they all, and away he went.
+
+The lights were all out, and so he groped his way to the fire, and
+there the cat flew in his face, and tore him with teeth and claws. He
+let a roar out of him, and made for the room door, to look for a candle
+inside. He trod on the dog's tail, and if he did, he got the marks of
+his teeth in his arms, and legs, and thighs.
+
+"Thousand murders!" cried he; "I wish I was out of this unlucky house."
+
+When he got to the street door, the cock dropped down upon him with his
+claws and bill, and what the cat and dog done to him was only a
+flay-bite to what he got from the cock.
+
+"Oh, tattheration to you all, you unfeeling vagabones!" says he, when
+he recovered his breath; and he staggered and spun round and round till
+he reeled into the stable, back foremost, but the ass received him with
+a kick on the broadest part of his small clothes, and laid him
+comfortably on the dunghill.
+
+When he came to himself, he scratched his head, and began to think what
+happened him; and as soon as he found that his legs were able to carry
+him, he crawled away, dragging one foot after another, till he reached
+the wood.
+
+"Well, well," cried them all, when he came within hearing, "any chance
+of our property?"
+
+"You may say chance," says he, "and it's itself is the poor chance all
+out. Ah, will any of you pull a bed of dry grass for me? All the
+sticking-plaster in Enniscorthy will be too little for the cuts and
+bruises I have on me. Ah, if you only knew what I have gone through for
+you! When I got to the kitchen fire, looking for a sod of lighted turf,
+what should be there but an old woman carding flax, and you may see the
+marks she left on my face with the cards. I made to the room door as
+fast as I could, and who should I stumble over but a cobbler and his
+seat, and if he did not work at me with his awls and his pinchers you
+may call me a rogue. Well, I got away from him somehow, but when I was
+passing through the door, it must be the divel himself that pounced
+down on me with his claws, and his teeth, that were equal to sixpenny
+nails, and his wings--ill luck be in his road! Well, at last I reached
+the stable, and there, by way of salute, I got a pelt from a
+sledge-hammer that sent me half a mile off. If you don't believe me,
+I'll give you leave to go and judge for yourselves."
+
+"Oh, my poor captain," says they, "we believe you to the nines. Catch
+us, indeed, going within a hen's race of that unlucky cabin!"
+
+Well, before the sun shook his doublet next morning, Jack and his
+comrades were up and about. They made a hearty breakfast on what was
+left the night before, and then they all agreed to set off to the
+castle of the Lord of Dunlavin, and give him back all his gold and
+silver. Jack put it all in the two ends of a sack and laid it across
+Neddy's back, and all took the road in their hands. Away they went,
+through bogs, up hills, down dales, and sometimes along the yellow high
+road, till they came to the hall-door of the Lord of Dunlavin, and who
+should be there, airing his powdered head, his white stockings, and his
+red breeches, but the thief of a porter.
+
+He gave a cross look to the visitors, and says he to Jack, "What do you
+want here, my fine fellow? there isn't room for you all."
+
+"We want," says Jack, "what I'm sure you haven't to give us--and that
+is, common civility."
+
+"Come, be off, you lazy strollers!" says he, "while a cat 'ud be
+licking her ear, or I'll let the dogs at you."
+
+"Would you tell a body," says the cock that was perched on the ass's
+head, "who was it that opened the door for the robbers the other night?"
+
+Ah! maybe the porter's red face didn't turn the colour of his frill,
+and the Lord of Dunlavin and his pretty daughter, that were standing at
+the parlour window unknownst to the porter, put out their heads.
+
+"I'd be glad, Barney," says the master, "to hear your answer to the
+gentleman with the red comb on him."
+
+"Ah, my lord, don't believe the rascal; sure I didn't open the door to
+the six robbers."
+
+"And how did you know there were six, you poor innocent?" said the lord.
+
+"Never mind, sir," says Jack, "all your gold and silver is there in
+that sack, and I don't think you will begrudge us our supper and bed
+after our long march from the wood of Athsalach."
+
+"Begrudge, indeed! Not one of you will ever see a poor day if I can
+help it."
+
+So all were welcomed to their heart's content, and the ass and the dog
+and the cock got the best posts in the farmyard, and the cat took
+possession of the kitchen. The lord took Jack in hands, dressed him
+from top to toe in broadcloth, and frills as white as snow, and
+turnpumps, and put a watch in his fob. When they sat down to dinner,
+the lady of the house said Jack had the air of a born gentleman about
+him, and the lord said he'd make him his steward. Jack brought his
+mother, and settled her comfortably near the castle, and all were as
+happy as you please.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHEE AN GANNON AND THE GRUAGACH GAIRE
+
+The Shee an Gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in
+the evening to ask his daughter of the king of Erin.
+
+"I will give you my daughter in marriage," said the king of Erin; "you
+won't get her, though, unless you go and bring me back the tidings that
+I want, and tell me what it is that put a stop to the laughing of the
+Gruagach Gaire, who before this laughed always, and laughed so loud
+that the whole world heard him. There are twelve iron spikes out here
+in the garden behind my castle. On eleven of the spikes are the heads
+of kings' sons who came seeking my daughter in marriage, and all of
+them went away to get the knowledge I wanted. Not one was able to get
+it and tell me what stopped the Gruagach Gaire from laughing. I took
+the heads off them all when they came back without the tidings for
+which they went, and I'm greatly in dread that your head'll be on the
+twelfth spike, for I'll do the same to you that I did to the eleven
+kings' sons unless you tell what put a stop to the laughing of the
+Gruagach."
+
+The Shee an Gannon made no answer, but left the king and pushed away to
+know could he find why the Gruagach was silent.
+
+He took a glen at a step, a hill at a leap, and travelled all day till
+evening. Then he came to a house. The master of the house asked him
+what sort was he, and he said: "A young man looking for hire."
+
+"Well," said the master of the house, "I was going tomorrow to look for
+a man to mind my cows. If you'll work for me, you'll have a good place,
+the best food a man could have to eat in this world, and a soft bed to
+lie on."
+
+The Shee an Gannon took service, and ate his supper. Then the master of
+the house said: "I am the Gruagach Gaire; now that you are my man and
+have eaten your supper, you'll have a bed of silk to sleep on."
+
+Next morning after breakfast the Gruagach said to the Shee an Gannon:
+"Go out now and loosen my five golden cows and my bull without horns,
+and drive them to pasture; but when you have them out on the grass, be
+careful you don't let them go near the land of the giant."
+
+The new cowboy drove the cattle to pasture, and when near the land of
+the giant, he saw it was covered with woods and surrounded by a high
+wall. He went up, put his back against the wall, and threw in a great
+stretch of it; then he went inside and threw out another great stretch
+of the wall, and put the five golden cows and the bull without horns on
+the land of the giant.
+
+Then he climbed a tree, ate the sweet apples himself, and threw the
+sour ones down to the cattle of the Gruagach Gaire.
+
+Soon a great crashing was heard in the woods,--the noise of young trees
+bending, and old trees breaking. The cowboy looked around and saw a
+five-headed giant pushing through the trees; and soon he was before him.
+
+"Poor miserable creature!" said the giant; "but weren't you impudent to
+come to my land and trouble me in this way? You're too big for one
+bite, and too small for two. I don't know what to do but tear you to
+pieces."
+
+"You nasty brute," said the cowboy, coming down to him from the tree,
+"'tis little I care for you;" and then they went at each other. So
+great was the noise between them that there was nothing in the world
+but what was looking on and listening to the combat.
+
+They fought till late in the afternoon, when the giant was getting the
+upper hand; and then the cowboy thought that if the giant should kill
+him, his father and mother would never find him or set eyes on him
+again, and he would never get the daughter of the king of Erin. The
+heart in his body grew strong at this thought. He sprang on the giant,
+and with the first squeeze and thrust he put him to his knees in the
+hard ground, with the second thrust to his waist, and with the third to
+his shoulders.
+
+"I have you at last; you're done for now!", said the cowboy. Then he
+took out his knife, cut the five heads off the giant, and when he had
+them off he cut out the tongues and threw the heads over the wall.
+
+Then he put the tongues in his pocket and drove home the cattle. That
+evening the Gruagach couldn't find vessels enough in all his place to
+hold the milk of the five golden cows.
+
+But when the cowboy was on the way home with the cattle, the son of the
+king of Tisean came and took the giant's heads and claimed the princess
+in marriage when the Gruagach Gaire should laugh.
+
+After supper the cowboy would give no talk to his master, but kept his
+mind to himself, and went to the bed of silk to sleep.
+
+On the morning the cowboy rose before his master, and the first words
+he said to the Gruagach were:
+
+"What keeps you from laughing, you who used to laugh so loud that the
+whole world heard you?"
+
+"I'm sorry," said the Gruagach, "that the daughter of the king of Erin
+sent you here."
+
+"If you don't tell me of your own will, I'll make you tell me," said
+the cowboy; and he put a face on himself that was terrible to look at,
+and running through the house like a madman, could find nothing that
+would give pain enough to the Gruagach but some ropes made of untanned
+sheepskin hanging on the wall.
+
+He took these down, caught the Gruagach, fastened him by the three
+smalls, and tied him so that his little toes were whispering to his
+ears. When he was in this state the Gruagach said: "I'll tell you what
+stopped my laughing if you set me free."
+
+So the cowboy unbound him, the two sat down together, and the Gruagach
+said:--
+
+"I lived in this castle here with my twelve sons. We ate, drank, played
+cards, and enjoyed ourselves, till one day when my sons and I were
+playing, a slender brown hare came rushing in, jumped on to the hearth,
+tossed up the ashes to the rafters and ran away.
+
+"On another day he came again; but if he did, we were ready for him, my
+twelve sons and myself. As soon as he tossed up the ashes and ran off,
+we made after him, and followed him till nightfall, when he went into a
+glen. We saw a light before us. I ran on, and came to a house with a
+great apartment, where there was a man named Yellow Face with twelve
+daughters, and the hare was tied to the side of the room near the women.
+
+"There was a large pot over the fire in the room, and a great stork
+boiling in the pot. The man of the house said to me: 'There are bundles
+of rushes at the end of the room, go there and sit down with your men!'
+
+"He went into the next room and brought out two pikes, one of wood, the
+other of iron, and asked me which of the pikes would I take. I said,
+'I'll take the iron one;' for I thought in my heart that if an attack
+should come on me, I could defend myself better with the iron than the
+wooden pike.
+
+"Yellow Face gave me the iron pike, and the first chance of taking what
+I could out of the pot on the point of the pike. I got but a small
+piece of the stork, and the man of the house took all the rest on his
+wooden pike. We had to fast that night; and when the man and his twelve
+daughters ate the flesh of the stork, they hurled the bare bones in the
+faces of my sons and myself. We had to stop all night that way, beaten
+on the faces by the bones of the stork.
+
+"Next morning, when we were going away, the man of the house asked me
+to stay a while; and going into the next room, he brought out twelve
+loops of iron and one of wood, and said to me: 'Put the heads of your
+twelve sons into the iron loops, or your own head into the wooden one;'
+and I said: 'I'll put the twelve heads of my sons in the iron loops,
+and keep my own out of the wooden one.'
+
+"He put the iron loops on the necks of my twelve sons, and put the
+wooden one on his own neck. Then he snapped the loops one after
+another, till he took the heads off my twelve sons and threw the heads
+and bodies out of the house; but he did nothing to hurt his own neck.
+
+"When he had killed my sons he took hold of me and stripped the skin
+and flesh from the small of my back down, and when he had done that he
+took the skin of a black sheep that had been hanging on the wall for
+seven years and clapped it on my body in place of my own flesh and
+skin; and the sheepskin grew on me, and every year since then I shear
+myself, and every bit of wool I use for the stockings that I wear I
+clip off my own back."
+
+When he had said this, the Gruagach showed the cowboy his back covered
+with thick black wool.
+
+After what he had seen and heard, the cowboy said: "I know now why you
+don't laugh, and small blame to you. But does that hare come here
+still?"
+
+"He does indeed," said the Gruagach.
+
+Both went to the table to play, and they were not long playing cards
+when the hare ran in; and before they could stop him he was out again.
+
+But the cowboy made after the hare, and the Gruagach after the cowboy,
+and they ran as fast as ever their legs could carry them till
+nightfall; and when the hare was entering the castle where the twelve
+sons of the Gruagach were killed, the cowboy caught him by the two hind
+legs and dashed out his brains against the wall; and the skull of the
+hare was knocked into the chief room of the castle, and fell at the
+feet of the master of the place.
+
+"Who has dared to interfere with my fighting pet?" screamed Yellow Face.
+
+"I," said the cowboy; "and if your pet had had manners, he might be
+alive now."
+
+The cowboy and the Gruagach stood by the fire. A stork was boiling in
+the pot, as when the Gruagach came the first time. The master of the
+house went into the next room and brought out an iron and a wooden
+pike, and asked the cowboy which would he choose.
+
+"I'll take the wooden one," said the cowboy; "and you may keep the iron
+one for yourself."
+
+So he took the wooden one; and going to the pot, brought out on the
+pike all the stork except a small bite, and he and the Gruagach fell to
+eating, and they were eating the flesh of the stork all night. The
+cowboy and the Gruagach were at home in the place that time.
+
+In the morning the master of the house went into the next room, took
+down the twelve iron loops with a wooden one, brought them out, and
+asked the cowboy which would he take, the twelve iron or the one wooden
+loop.
+
+"What could I do with the twelve iron ones for myself or my master?
+I'll take the wooden one."
+
+He put it on, and taking the twelve iron loops, put them on the necks
+of the twelve daughters of the house, then snapped the twelve heads off
+them, and turning to their father, said: "I'll do the same thing to you
+unless you bring the twelve sons of my master to life, and make them as
+well and strong as when you took their heads."
+
+The master of the house went out and brought the twelve to life again;
+and when the Gruagach saw all his sons alive and as well as ever, he
+let a laugh out of himself, and all the Eastern world heard the laugh.
+
+Then the cowboy said to the Gruagach: "It's a bad thing you have done
+to me, for the daughter of the king of Erin will be married the day
+after your laugh is heard."
+
+"Oh! then we must be there in time," said the Gruagach; and they all
+made away from the place as fast as ever they could, the cowboy, the
+Gruagach, and his twelve sons.
+
+They hurried on; and when within three miles of the king's castle there
+was such a throng of people that no one could go a step ahead. "We must
+clear a road through this," said the cowboy.
+
+"We must indeed," said the Gruagach; and at it they went, threw the
+people some on one side and some on the other, and soon they had an
+opening for themselves to the king's castle.
+
+As they went in, the daughter of the king of Erin and the son of the
+king of Tisean were on their knees just going to be married. The cowboy
+drew his hand on the bride-groom, and gave a blow that sent him
+spinning till he stopped under a table at the other side of the room.
+
+"What scoundrel struck that blow?" asked the king of Erin.
+
+"It was I," said the cowboy.
+
+"What reason had you to strike the man who won my daughter?"
+
+"It was I who won your daughter, not he; and if you don't believe me,
+the Gruagach Gaire is here himself. He'll tell you the whole story from
+beginning to end, and show you the tongues of the giant."
+
+So the Gruagach came up and told the king the whole story, how the Shee
+an Gannon had become his cowboy, had guarded the five golden cows and
+the bull without horns, cut off the heads of the five-headed giant,
+killed the wizard hare, and brought his own twelve sons to life. "And
+then," said the Gruagach, "he is the only man in the whole world I have
+ever told why I stopped laughing, and the only one who has ever seen my
+fleece of wool."
+
+When the king of Erin heard what the Gruagach said, and saw the tongues
+of the giant fitted in the head, he made the Shee an Gannon kneel down
+by his daughter, and they were married on the spot.
+
+Then the son of the king of Tisean was thrown into prison, and the next
+day they put down a great fire, and the deceiver was burned to ashes.
+
+The wedding lasted nine days, and the last day was better than the
+first.
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY-TELLER AT FAULT
+
+At the time when the Tuatha De Dannan held the sovereignty of Ireland,
+there reigned in Leinster a king, who was remarkably fond of hearing
+stories. Like the other princes and chieftains of the island, he had a
+favourite story-teller, who held a large estate from his Majesty, on
+condition of telling him a new story every night of his life, before he
+went to sleep. Many indeed were the stories he knew, so that he had
+already reached a good old age without failing even for a single night
+in his task; and such was the skill he displayed that whatever cares of
+state or other annoyances might prey upon the monarch's mind, his
+story-teller was sure to send him to sleep.
+
+One morning the story-teller arose early, and as his custom was,
+strolled out into his garden turning over in his mind incidents which
+he might weave into a story for the king at night. But this morning he
+found himself quite at fault; after pacing his whole demesne, he
+returned to his house without being able to think of anything new or
+strange. He found no difficulty in "there was once a king who had three
+sons" or "one day the king of all Ireland," but further than that he
+could not get. At length he went in to breakfast, and found his wife
+much perplexed at his delay.
+
+"Why don't you come to breakfast, my dear?" said she.
+
+"I have no mind to eat anything," replied the story-teller; "long as I
+have been in the service of the king of Leinster, I never sat down to
+breakfast without having a new story ready for the evening, but this
+morning my mind is quite shut up, and I don't know what to do. I might
+as well lie down and die at once. I'll be disgraced for ever this
+evening, when the king calls for his story-teller."
+
+Just at this moment the lady looked out of the window.
+
+"Do you see that black thing at the end of the field?" said she.
+
+"I do," replied her husband.
+
+They drew nigh, and saw a miserable looking old man lying on the ground
+with a wooden leg placed beside him.
+
+"Who are you, my good man?" asked the story-teller.
+
+"Oh, then, 'tis little matter who I am. I'm a poor, old, lame,
+decrepit, miserable creature, sitting down here to rest awhile."
+
+"An' what are you doing with that box and dice I see in your hand?"
+
+"I am waiting here to see if any one will play a game with me," replied
+the beggar man.
+
+"Play with you! Why what has a poor old man like you to play for?"
+
+"I have one hundred pieces of gold in this leathern purse," replied the
+old man.
+
+"You may as well play with him," said the story-teller's wife; "and
+perhaps you'll have something to tell the king in the evening."
+
+A smooth stone was placed between them, and upon it they cast their
+throws.
+
+It was but a little while and the story-teller lost every penny of his
+money.
+
+"Much good may it do you, friend," said he. "What better hap could I
+look for, fool that I am!"
+
+"Will you play again?" asked the old man.
+
+"Don't be talking, man: you have all my money."
+
+"Haven't you chariot and horses and hounds?"
+
+"Well, what of them!"
+
+"I'll stake all the money I have against thine."
+
+"Nonsense, man! Do you think for all the money in Ireland, I'd run the
+risk of seeing my lady tramp home on foot?"
+
+"Maybe you'd win," said the bocough.
+
+"Maybe I wouldn't," said the story-teller.
+
+"Play with him, husband," said his wife. "I don't mind walking, if you
+do, love."
+
+"I never refused you before," said the story-teller, "and I won't do so
+now."
+
+Down he sat again, and in one throw lost houses, hounds, and chariot.
+
+"Will you play again?" asked the beggar.
+
+"Are you making game of me, man; what else have I to stake?"
+
+"I'll stake all my winnings against your wife," said the old man.
+
+The story-teller turned away in silence, but his wife stopped him.
+
+"Accept his offer," said she. "This is the third time, and who knows
+what luck you may have? You'll surely win now."
+
+They played again, and the story-teller lost. No sooner had he done so,
+than to his sorrow and surprise, his wife went and sat down near the
+ugly old beggar.
+
+"Is that the way you're leaving me?" said the story-teller.
+
+"Sure I was won," said she. "You would not cheat the poor man, would
+you?"
+
+"Have you any more to stake?" asked the old man.
+
+"You know very well I have not," replied the story-teller.
+
+"I'll stake the whole now, wife and all, against your own self," said
+the old man.
+
+Again they played, and again the story-teller lost.
+
+"Well! here I am, and what do you want with me?"
+
+"I'll soon let you know," said the old man, and he took from his pocket
+a long cord and a wand.
+
+"Now," said he to the story-teller, "what kind of animal would you
+rather be, a deer, a fox, or a hare? You have your choice now, but you
+may not have it later."
+
+To make a long story short, the story-teller made his choice of a hare;
+the old man threw the cord round him, struck him with the wand, and lo!
+a long-eared, frisking hare was skipping and jumping on the green.
+
+But it wasn't for long; who but his wife called the hounds, and set
+them on him. The hare fled, the dogs followed. Round the field ran a
+high wall, so that run as he might, he couldn't get out, and mightily
+diverted were beggar and lady to see him twist and double.
+
+In vain did he take refuge with his wife, she kicked him back again to
+the hounds, until at length the beggar stopped the hounds, and with a
+stroke of the wand, panting and breathless, the story-teller stood
+before them again.
+
+"And how did you like the sport?" said the beggar.
+
+"It might be sport to others," replied the story-teller looking at his
+wife, "for my part I could well put up with the loss of it."
+
+"Would it be asking too much," he went on to the beggar, "to know who
+you are at all, or where you come from, or why you take a pleasure in
+plaguing a poor old man like me?"
+
+"Oh!" replied the stranger, "I'm an odd kind of good-for-little fellow,
+one day poor, another day rich, but if you wish to know more about me
+or my habits, come with me and perhaps I may show you more than you
+would make out if you went alone."
+
+"I'm not my own master to go or stay," said the story-teller, with a
+sigh.
+
+The stranger put one hand into his wallet and drew out of it before
+their eyes a well-looking middle-aged man, to whom he spoke as follows:
+
+"By all you heard and saw since I put you into my wallet, take charge
+of this lady and of the carriage and horses, and have them ready for me
+whenever I want them."
+
+Scarcely had he said these words when all vanished, and the
+story-teller found himself at the Foxes' Ford, near the castle of Red
+Hugh O'Donnell. He could see all but none could see him.
+
+O'Donnell was in his hall, and heaviness of flesh and weariness of
+spirit were upon him.
+
+"Go out," said he to his doorkeeper, "and see who or what may be
+coming."
+
+The doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank, grey beggarman; half
+his sword bared behind his haunch, his two shoes full of cold
+road-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears out
+through his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scant tattered
+cloak, and in his hand a green wand of holly.
+
+"Save you, O'Donnell," said the lank grey beggarman.
+
+"And you likewise," said O'Donnell. "Whence come you, and what is your
+craft?"
+
+  "I come from the outmost stream of earth,
+  From the glens where the white swans glide,
+  A night in Islay, a night in Man,
+  A night on the cold hillside."
+
+"It's the great traveller you are," said O'Donnell.
+
+"Maybe you've learnt something on the road."
+
+"I am a juggler," said the lank grey beggarman, "and for five pieces of
+silver you shall see a trick of mine."
+
+"You shall have them," said O'Donnell; and the lank grey beggarman took
+three small straws and placed them in his hand.
+
+"The middle one," said he, "I'll blow away; the other two I'll leave."
+
+"Thou canst not do it," said one and all.
+
+But the lank grey beggarman put a finger on either outside straw and,
+whiff, away he blew the middle one.
+
+"'Tis a good trick," said O'Donnell; and he paid him his five pieces of
+silver.
+
+"For half the money," said one of the chief's lads, "I'll do the same
+trick."
+
+"Take him at his word, O'Donnell."
+
+The lad put the three straws on his hand, and a finger on either
+outside straw and he blew; and what happened but that the fist was
+blown away with the straw.
+
+"Thou art sore, and thou wilt be sorer," said O'Donnell.
+
+"Six more pieces, O'Donnell, and I'll do another trick for thee," said
+the lank grey beggarman.
+
+"Six shalt thou have."
+
+"Seest thou my two ears! One I'll move but not t'other."
+
+"'Tis easy to see them, they're big enough, but thou canst never move
+one ear and not the two together."
+
+The lank grey beggarman put his hand to his ear, and he gave it a pull.
+
+O'Donnell laughed and paid him the six pieces.
+
+"Call that a trick," said the fistless lad, "any one can do that," and
+so saying, he put up his hand, pulled his ear, and what happened was
+that he pulled away ear and head.
+
+"Sore thou art; and sorer thou'lt be," said O'Donnell.
+
+"Well, O'Donnell," said the lank grey beggarman, "strange are the
+tricks I've shown thee, but I'll show thee a stranger one yet for the
+same money."
+
+"Thou hast my word for it," said O'Donnell.
+
+With that the lank grey beggarman took a bag from under his armpit, and
+from out the bag a ball of silk, and he unwound the ball and he flung
+it slantwise up into the clear blue heavens, and it became a ladder;
+then he took a hare and placed it upon the thread, and up it ran; again
+he took out a red-eared hound, and it swiftly ran up after the hare.
+
+"Now," said the lank grey beggarman; "has any one a mind to run after
+the dog and on the course?"
+
+"I will," said a lad of O'Donnell's.
+
+"Up with you then," said the juggler; "but I warn you if you let my
+hare be killed I'll cut off your head when you come down."
+
+The lad ran up the thread and all three soon disappeared. After looking
+up for a long time, the lank grey beggarman said: "I'm afraid the hound
+is eating the hare, and that our friend has fallen asleep."
+
+Saying this he began to wind the thread, and down came the lad fast
+asleep; and down came the red-eared hound and in his mouth the last
+morsel of the hare.
+
+He struck the lad a stroke with the edge of his sword, and so cast his
+head off. As for the hound, if he used it no worse, he used it no
+better.
+
+"It's little I'm pleased, and sore I'm angered," said O'Donnell, "that
+a hound and a lad should be killed at my court."
+
+"Five pieces of silver twice over for each of them," said the juggler,
+"and their heads shall be on them as before."
+
+"Thou shalt get that," said O'Donnell.
+
+Five pieces, and again five were paid him, and lo! the lad had his head
+and the hound his. And though they lived to the uttermost end of time,
+the hound would never touch a hare again, and the lad took good care to
+keep his eyes open.
+
+Scarcely had the lank grey beggarman done this when he vanished from
+out their sight, and no one present could say if he had flown through
+the air or if the earth had swallowed him up.
+
+  He moved as wave tumbling o'er wave
+  As whirlwind following whirlwind,
+  As a furious wintry blast,
+  So swiftly, sprucely, cheerily,
+  Right proudly,
+  And no stop made
+  Until he came
+  To the court of Leinster's King,
+  He gave a cheery light leap
+  O'er top of turret,
+  Of court and city
+  Of Leinster's King.
+
+Heavy was the flesh and weary the spirit of Leinster's king. 'Twas the
+hour he was wont to hear a story, but send he might right and left, not
+a jot of tidings about the story-teller could he get.
+
+"Go to the door," said he to his doorkeeper, "and see if a soul is in
+sight who may tell me something about my story-teller."
+
+The doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank grey beggarman, half
+his sword bared behind his haunch, his two old shoes full of cold
+road-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears out
+through his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scant tattered
+cloak, and in his hand a three-stringed harp.
+
+"What canst thou do?" said the doorkeeper.
+
+"I can play," said the lank grey beggarman.
+
+"Never fear," added he to the story-teller, "thou shalt see all, and
+not a man shall see thee."
+
+When the king heard a harper was outside, he bade him in.
+
+"It is I that have the best harpers in the five-fifths of Ireland,"
+said he, and he signed them to play. They did so, and if they played,
+the lank grey beggarman listened.
+
+"Heardst thou ever the like?" said the king.
+
+"Did you ever, O king, hear a cat purring over a bowl of broth, or the
+buzzing of beetles in the twilight, or a shrill tongued old woman
+scolding your head off?"
+
+"That I have often," said the king.
+
+"More melodious to me," said the lank grey beggarman, "were the worst
+of these sounds than the sweetest harping of thy harpers."
+
+When the harpers heard this, they drew their swords and rushed at him,
+but instead of striking him, their blows fell on each other, and soon
+not a man but was cracking his neighbour's skull and getting his own
+cracked in turn.
+
+When the king saw this, he thought it hard the harpers weren't content
+with murdering their music, but must needs murder each other.
+
+"Hang the fellow who began it all," said he; "and if I can't have a
+story, let me have peace."
+
+Up came the guards, seized the lank grey beggarman, marched him to the
+gallows and hanged him high and dry. Back they marched to the hall, and
+who should they see but the lank grey beggarman seated on a bench with
+his mouth to a flagon of ale.
+
+"Never welcome you in," cried the captain of the guard, "didn't we hang
+you this minute, and what brings you here?"
+
+"Is it me myself, you mean?"
+
+"Who else?" said the captain.
+
+"May your hand turn into a pig's foot with you when you think of tying
+the rope; why should you speak of hanging me?"
+
+Back they scurried to the gallows, and there hung the king's favourite
+brother.
+
+Back they hurried to the king who had fallen fast asleep.
+
+"Please your Majesty," said the captain, "we hanged that strolling
+vagabond, but here he is back again as well as ever."
+
+"Hang him again," said the king, and off he went to sleep once more.
+
+They did as they were told, but what happened was that they found the
+king's chief harper hanging where the lank grey beggarman should have
+been.
+
+The captain of the guard was sorely puzzled.
+
+"Are you wishful to hang me a third time?" said the lank grey beggarman.
+
+"Go where you will," said the captain, "and as fast as you please if
+you'll only go far enough. It's trouble enough you've given us already."
+
+"Now you're reasonable," said the beggarman; "and since you've given up
+trying to hang a stranger because he finds fault with your music, I
+don't mind telling you that if you go back to the gallows you'll find
+your friends sitting on the sward none the worse for what has happened."
+
+As he said these words he vanished; and the story-teller found himself
+on the spot where they first met, and where his wife still was with the
+carriage and horses.
+
+"Now," said the lank grey beggarman, "I'll torment you no longer.
+There's your carriage and your horses, and your money and your wife; do
+what you please with them."
+
+"For my carriage and my houses and my hounds," said the story-teller,
+"I thank you; but my wife and my money you may keep."
+
+"No," said the other. "I want neither, and as for your wife, don't
+think ill of her for what she did, she couldn't help it."
+
+"Not help it! Not help kicking me into the mouth of my own hounds! Not
+help casting me off for the sake of a beggarly old--"
+
+"I'm not as beggarly or as old as ye think. I am Angus of the Bruff;
+many a good turn you've done me with the King of Leinster. This morning
+my magic told me the difficulty you were in, and I made up my mind to
+get you out of it. As for your wife there, the power that changed your
+body changed her mind. Forget and forgive as man and wife should do,
+and now you have a story for the King of Leinster when he calls for
+one;" and with that he disappeared.
+
+It's true enough he now had a story fit for a king. From first to last
+he told all that had befallen him; so long and loud laughed the king
+that he couldn't go to sleep at all. And he told the story-teller never
+to trouble for fresh stories, but every night as long as he lived he
+listened again and he laughed afresh at the tale of the lank grey
+beggarman.
+
+
+
+
+THE SEA-MAIDEN
+
+There was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting
+much fish. On a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a
+sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "Are you getting
+much fish?" The old man answered and said, "Not I." "What reward would
+you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?" "Ach!" said the old
+man, "I have not much to spare." "Will you give me the first son you
+have?" said she. "I would give ye that, were I to have a son," said he.
+"Then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age,
+and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this." Everything
+happened as the sea-maiden said, and he himself got plenty of fish; but
+when the end of the twenty years was nearing, the old man was growing
+more and more sorrowful and heavy hearted, while he counted each day as
+it came.
+
+He had rest neither day nor night. The son asked his father one day,
+"Is any one troubling you?" The old man said, "Some one is, but that's
+nought to do with you nor any one else." The lad said, "I must know
+what it is." His father told him at last how the matter was with him
+and the sea-maiden. "Let not that put you in any trouble," said the
+son; "I will not oppose you." "You shall not; you shall not go, my son,
+though I never get fish any more." "If you will not let me go with you,
+go to the smithy, and let the smith make me a great strong sword, and I
+will go seek my fortune."
+
+His father went to the smithy, and the smith made a doughty sword for
+him. His father came home with the sword. The lad grasped it and gave
+it a shake or two, and it flew into a hundred splinters. He asked his
+father to go to the smithy and get him another sword in which there
+should be twice as much weight; and so his father did, and so likewise
+it happened to the next sword--it broke in two halves. Back went the
+old man to the smithy; and the smith made a great sword, its like he
+never made before. "There's thy sword for thee," said the smith, "and
+the fist must be good that plays this blade." The old man gave the
+sword to his son; he gave it a shake or two. "This will do," said he;
+"it's high time now to travel on my way."
+
+On the next morning he put a saddle on a black horse that his father
+had, and he took the world for his pillow. When he went on a bit, he
+fell in with the carcass of a sheep beside the road. And there were a
+great black dog, a falcon, and an otter, and they were quarrelling over
+the spoil. So they asked him to divide it for them. He came down off
+the horse, and he divided the carcass amongst the three. Three shares
+to the dog, two shares to the otter, and a share to the falcon. "For
+this," said the dog, "if swiftness of foot or sharpness of tooth will
+give thee aid, mind me, and I will be at thy side." Said the otter, "If
+the swimming of foot on the ground of a pool will loose thee, mind me,
+and I will be at thy side." Said the falcon, "If hardship comes on
+thee, where swiftness of wing or crook of a claw will do good, mind me,
+and I will be at thy side."
+
+On this he went onward till he reached a king's house, and he took
+service to be a herd, and his wages were to be according to the milk of
+the cattle. He went away with the cattle, and the grazing was but bare.
+In the evening when he took them home they had not much milk, the place
+was so bare, and his meat and drink was but spare that night.
+
+On the next day he went on further with them; and at last he came to a
+place exceedingly grassy, in a green glen, of which he never saw the
+like.
+
+But about the time when he should drive the cattle homewards, who
+should he see coming but a great giant with his sword in his hand? "HI!
+HO!! HOGARACH!!!" says the giant. "Those cattle are mine; they are on
+my land, and a dead man art thou." "I say not that," says the herd;
+"there is no knowing, but that may be easier to say than to do."
+
+He drew the great clean-sweeping sword, and he neared the giant. The
+herd drew back his sword, and the head was off the giant in a
+twinkling. He leaped on the black horse, and he went to look for the
+giant's house. In went the herd, and that's the place where there was
+money in plenty, and dresses of each kind in the wardrobe with gold and
+silver, and each thing finer than the other. At the mouth of night he
+took himself to the king's house, but he took not a thing from the
+giant's house. And when the cattle were milked this night there _was_
+milk. He got good feeding this night, meat and drink without stint, and
+the king was hugely pleased that he had caught such a herd. He went on
+for a time in this way, but at last the glen grew bare of grass, and
+the grazing was not so good.
+
+So he thought he would go a little further forward in on the giant's
+land; and he sees a great park of grass. He returned for the cattle,
+and he put them into the park.
+
+They were but a short time grazing in the park when a great wild giant
+came full of rage and madness. "HI! HAW!! HOGARAICH!!!" said the giant.
+"It is a drink of thy blood that will quench my thirst this night."
+"There is no knowing," said the herd, "but that's easier to say than to
+do." And at each other went the men. _There_ was shaking of blades! At
+length and at last it seemed as if the giant would get the victory over
+the herd. Then he called on the dog, and with one spring the black dog
+caught the giant by the neck, and swiftly the herd struck off his head.
+
+He went home very tired this night, but it's a wonder if the king's
+cattle had not milk. The whole family was delighted that they had got
+such a herd.
+
+Next day he betakes himself to the castle. When he reached the door, a
+little flattering carlin met him standing in the door. "All hail and
+good luck to thee, fisher's son; 'tis I myself am pleased to see thee;
+great is the honour for this kingdom, for thy like to be come into
+it--thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first; honour to
+the gentles; go on, and take breath."
+
+"In before me, thou crone; I like not flattery out of doors; go in and
+let's hear thy speech." In went the crone, and when her back was to him
+he drew his sword and whips her head off; but the sword flew out of his
+hand. And swift the crone gripped her head with both hands, and puts it
+on her neck as it was before. The dog sprung on the crone, and she
+struck the generous dog with the club of magic; and there he lay. But
+the herd struggled for a hold of the club of magic, and with one blow
+on the top of the head she was on earth in the twinkling of an eye. He
+went forward, up a little, and there was spoil! Gold and silver, and
+each thing more precious than another, in the crone's castle. He went
+back to the king's house, and then there was rejoicing.
+
+He followed herding in this way for a time; but one night after he came
+home, instead of getting "All hail" and "Good luck" from the dairymaid,
+all were at crying and woe.
+
+He asked what cause of woe there was that night. The dairymaid said
+"There is a great beast with three heads in the loch, and it must get
+some one every year, and the lot had come this year on the king's
+daughter, and at midday to-morrow she is to meet the Laidly Beast at
+the upper end of the loch, but there is a great suitor yonder who is
+going to rescue her."
+
+"What suitor is that?" said the herd. "Oh, he is a great General of
+arms," said the dairymaid, "and when he kills the beast, he will marry
+the king's daughter, for the king has said that he who could save his
+daughter should get her to marry."
+
+But on the morrow, when the time grew near, the king's daughter and
+this hero of arms went to give a meeting to the beast, and they reached
+the black rock, at the upper end of the loch. They were but a short
+time there when the beast stirred in the midst of the loch; but when
+the General saw this terror of a beast with three heads, he took
+fright, and he slunk away, and he hid himself. And the king's daughter
+was under fear and under trembling, with no one at all to save her.
+Suddenly she sees a doughty handsome youth, riding a black horse, and
+coming where she was. He was marvellously arrayed and full armed, and
+his black dog moved after him. "There is gloom on your face, girl,"
+said the youth; "what do you here?"
+
+"Oh! that's no matter," said the king's daughter. "It's not long I'll
+be here, at all events."
+
+"I say not that," said he.
+
+"A champion fled as likely as you, and not long since," said she.
+
+"He is a champion who stands the war," said the youth. And to meet the
+beast he went with his sword and his dog. But there was a spluttering
+and a splashing between himself and the beast! The dog kept doing all
+he might, and the king's daughter was palsied by fear of the noise of
+the beast! One of them would now be under, and now above. But at last
+he cut one of the heads off it. It gave one roar, and the son of earth,
+echo of the rocks, called to its screech, and it drove the loch in
+spindrift from end to end, and in a twinkling it went out of sight.
+
+"Good luck and victory follow you, lad!" said the king's daughter. "I
+am safe for one night, but the beast will come again and again, until
+the other two heads come off it." He caught the beast's head, and he
+drew a knot through it, and he told her to bring it with her there
+to-morrow. She gave him a gold ring, and went home with the head on her
+shoulder, and the herd betook himself to the cows. But she had not gone
+far when this great General saw her, and he said to her, "I will kill
+you if you do not say that 'twas I took the head off the beast." "Oh!"
+says she, "'tis I will say it; who else took the head off the beast but
+you!" They reached the king's house, and the head was on the General's
+shoulder. But here was rejoicing, that she should come home alive and
+whole, and this great captain with the beast's head full of blood in
+his hand. On the morrow they went away, and there was no question at
+all but that this hero would save the king's daughter.
+
+They reached the same place, and they were not long there when the
+fearful Laidly Beast stirred in the midst of the loch, and the hero
+slunk away as he did on yesterday, but it was not long after this when
+the man of the black horse came, with another dress on. No matter; she
+knew that it was the very same lad. "It is I am pleased to see you,"
+said she. "I am in hopes you will handle your great sword to-day as you
+did yesterday. Come up and take breath." But they were not long there
+when they saw the beast steaming in the midst of the loch.
+
+At once he went to meet the beast, but _there_ was Cloopersteich and
+Claperstich, spluttering, splashing, raving, and roaring on the beast!
+They kept at it thus for a long time, and about the mouth of night he
+cut another head off the beast. He put it on the knot and gave it to
+her. She gave him one of her earrings, and he leaped on the black
+horse, and he betook himself to the herding. The king's daughter went
+home with the heads. The General met her, and took the heads from her,
+and he said to her, that she must tell that it was he who took the head
+off the beast this time also. "Who else took the head off the beast but
+you?" said she. They reached the king's house with the heads. Then
+there was joy and gladness.
+
+About the same time on the morrow, the two went away. The officer hid
+himself as he usually did. The king's daughter betook herself to the
+bank of the loch. The hero of the black horse came, and if roaring and
+raving were on the beast on the days that were passed, this day it was
+horrible. But no matter, he took the third head off the beast, and drew
+it through the knot, and gave it to her. She gave him her other
+earring, and then she went home with the heads. When they reached the
+king's house, all were full of smiles, and the General was to marry the
+king's daughter the next day. The wedding was going on, and every one
+about the castle longing till the priest should come. But when the
+priest came, she would marry only the one who could take the heads off
+the knot without cutting it. "Who should take the heads off the knot
+but the man that put the heads on?" said the king.
+
+The General tried them; but he could not loose them; and at last there
+was no one about the house but had tried to take the heads off the
+knot, but they could not. The king asked if there were any one else
+about the house that would try to take the heads off the knot. They
+said that the herd had not tried them yet. Word went for the herd; and
+he was not long throwing them hither and thither. "But stop a bit, my
+lad," said the king's daughter; "the man that took the heads off the
+beast, he has my ring and my two earrings." The herd put his hand in
+his pocket, and he threw them on the board. "Thou art my man," said the
+king's daughter. The king was not so pleased when he saw that it was a
+herd who was to marry his daughter, but he ordered that he should be
+put in a better dress; but his daughter spoke, and she said that he had
+a dress as fine as any that ever was in his castle; and thus it
+happened. The herd put on the giant's golden dress, and they married
+that same day.
+
+They were now married, and everything went on well. But one day, and it
+was the namesake of the day when his father had promised him to the
+sea-maiden, they were sauntering by the side of the loch, and lo and
+behold! she came and took him away to the loch without leave or asking.
+The king's daughter was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her
+married man; she was always with her eye on the loch. An old soothsayer
+met her, and she told how it had befallen her married mate. Then he
+told her the thing to do to save her mate, and that she did.
+
+She took her harp to the sea-shore, and sat and played; and the
+sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than
+all other creatures. But when the wife saw the sea-maiden she stopped.
+The sea-maiden said, "Play on!" but the princess said, "No, not till I
+see my man again." So the sea-maiden put up his head out of the loch.
+Then the princess played again, and stopped till the sea-maiden put him
+up to the waist. Then the princess played and stopped again, and this
+time the sea-maiden put him all out of the loch, and he called on the
+falcon and became one and flew on shore. But the sea-maiden took the
+princess, his wife.
+
+Sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this night. Her man was
+mournful, tearful, wandering down and up about the banks of the loch,
+by day and night. The old soothsayer met him. The soothsayer told him
+that there was no way of killing the sea-maiden but the one way, and
+this is it--"In the island that is in the midst of the loch is the
+white-footed hind of the slenderest legs and the swiftest step, and
+though she be caught, there will spring a hoodie out of her, and though
+the hoodie should be caught, there will spring a trout out of her, but
+there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, and the soul of the
+sea-maiden is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, she is dead."
+
+Now, there was no way of getting to this island, for the sea-maiden
+would sink each boat and raft that would go on the loch. He thought he
+would try to leap the strait with the black horse, and even so he did.
+The black horse leaped the strait. He saw the hind, and he let the
+black dog after her, but when he was on one side of the island, the
+hind would be on the other side. "Oh! would the black dog of the
+carcass of flesh were here!" No sooner spoke he the word than the
+grateful dog was at his side; and after the hind he went, and they were
+not long in bringing her to earth. But he no sooner caught her than a
+hoodie sprang out of her. "Would that the falcon grey, of sharpest eye
+and swiftest wing, were here!" No sooner said he this than the falcon
+was after the hoodie, and she was not long putting her to earth; and as
+the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out of her jumps the trout.
+"Oh! that thou wert by me now, oh otter!" No sooner said than the otter
+was at his side, and out on the loch she leaped, and brings the trout
+from the midst of the loch; but no sooner was the otter on shore with
+the trout than the egg came from his mouth. He sprang and he put his
+foot on it. 'Twas then the sea-maiden appeared, and she said, "Break
+not the egg, and you shall get all you ask." "Deliver to me my wife!"
+In the wink of an eye she was by his side. When he got hold of her hand
+in both his hands, he let his foot down on the egg, and the sea-maiden
+died.
+
+
+
+
+A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY
+
+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 men were
+all working at the Causeway, in order to make a bridge 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. 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.
+
+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. 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 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. However, the short and long of it was, with reverence
+be it spoken, that Fin heard Cucullin was coming to the Causeway to
+have a trial of strength with him; and he was seized with a very warm
+and sudden fit of affection for his wife, poor woman, leading a very
+lonely, uncomfortable life of it 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 travels to see his darling Oonagh on the
+top of Knockmany, by the way.
+
+In truth, 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 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, 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. 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.
+
+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 any one 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 asked him what he did it for.
+
+"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."
+
+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 to meet with; and,
+the idea of the "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? 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 for ever 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. 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. 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. 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, for all his
+bulk, than a common man.
+
+At length, the next day, Cucullin was seen coming across the valley,
+and Oonagh knew that it was time to commence operations. She
+immediately brought the cradle, and made Fin to lie down in it, and
+cover himself up with the clothes.
+
+"You must pass for your own child," said she; "so just lie there snug,
+and say nothing, but be guided by me."
+
+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, turned it
+as she had wished. When Fin saw this, he felt the sweat of fear 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.
+
+"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 put one of the cakes in his mouth to take a huge
+whack out of it, when he made a thundering noise, 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 this is 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
+gibbets!" 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 supposed 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 had been sharpened by seeing eating
+going forward, soon swallowed it. 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 in vain.
+
+"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 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 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 Fin's lad has got
+that can eat griddle-bread like that?"
+
+"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 at his mercy. He
+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
+cunning, which he never could have done by force.
+
+
+
+
+FAIR, BROWN, AND TREMBLING
+
+King Hugh Curucha lived in Tir Conal, and he had three daughters, whose
+names were Fair, Brown, and Trembling. Fair and Brown had new dresses,
+and went to church every Sunday. Trembling was kept at home to do the
+cooking and work. They would not let her go out of the house at all;
+for she was more beautiful than the other two, and they were in dread
+she might marry before themselves.
+
+They carried on in this way for seven years. At the end of seven years
+the son of the king of Emania fell in love with the eldest sister.
+
+One Sunday morning, after the other two had gone to church, the old
+henwife came into the kitchen to Trembling, and said: "It's at church
+you ought to be this day, instead of working here at home."
+
+"How could I go?" said Trembling. "I have no clothes good enough to
+wear at church; and if my sisters were to see me there, they'd kill me
+for going out of the house."
+
+"I'll give you," said the henwife, "a finer dress than either of them
+has ever seen. And now tell me what dress will you have?"
+
+"I'll have," said Trembling, "a dress as white as snow, and green shoes
+for my feet."
+
+Then the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, clipped a piece from the
+old clothes the young woman had on, and asked for the whitest robes in
+the world and the most beautiful that could be found, and a pair of
+green shoes.
+
+That moment she had the robe and the shoes, and she brought them to
+Trembling, who put them on. When Trembling was dressed and ready, the
+henwife said: "I have a honey-bird here to sit on your right shoulder,
+and a honey-finger to put on your left. At the door stands a milk-white
+mare, with a golden saddle for you to sit on, and a golden bridle to
+hold in your hand."
+
+Trembling sat on the golden saddle; and when she was ready to start,
+the henwife said: "You must not go inside the door of the church, and
+the minute the people rise up at the end of Mass, do you make off, and
+ride home as fast as the mare will carry you."
+
+When Trembling came to the door of the church there was no one inside
+who could get a glimpse of her but was striving to know who she was;
+and when they saw her hurrying away at the end of Mass, they ran out to
+overtake her. But no use in their running; she was away before any man
+could come near her. From the minute she left the church till she got
+home, she overtook the wind before her, and outstripped the wind behind.
+
+She came down at the door, went in, and found the henwife had dinner
+ready. She put off the white robes, and had on her old dress in a
+twinkling.
+
+When the two sisters came home the henwife asked: "Have you any news
+to-day from the church?"
+
+"We have great news," said they. "We saw a wonderful grand lady at the
+church-door. The like of the robes she had we have never seen on woman
+before. It's little that was thought of our dresses beside what she had
+on; and there wasn't a man at the church, from the king to the beggar,
+but was trying to look at her and know who she was."
+
+The sisters would give no peace till they had two dresses like the
+robes of the strange lady; but honey-birds and honey-fingers were not
+to be found.
+
+Next Sunday the two sisters went to church again, and left the youngest
+at home to cook the dinner.
+
+After they had gone, the henwife came in and asked: "Will you go to
+church to-day?"
+
+"I would go," said Trembling, "if I could get the going."
+
+"What robe will you wear?" asked the henwife.
+
+"The finest black satin that can be found, and red shoes for my feet."
+
+"What colour do you want the mare to be?"
+
+"I want her to be so black and so glossy that I can see myself in her
+body."
+
+The henwife put on the cloak of darkness, and asked for the robes and
+the mare. That moment she had them. When Trembling was dressed, the
+henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger
+on her left. The saddle on the mare was silver, and so was the bridle.
+
+When Trembling sat in the saddle and was going away, the henwife
+ordered her strictly not to go inside the door of the church, but to
+rush away as soon as the people rose at the end of Mass, and hurry home
+on the mare before any man could stop her.
+
+That Sunday, the people were more astonished than ever, and gazed at
+her more than the first time; and all they were thinking of was to know
+who she was. But they had no chance; for the moment the people rose at
+the end of Mass she slipped from the church, was in the silver saddle,
+and home before a man could stop her or talk to her.
+
+The henwife had the dinner ready. Trembling took off her satin robe,
+and had on her old clothes before her sisters got home.
+
+"What news have you to-day?" asked the henwife of the sisters when they
+came from the church.
+
+"Oh, we saw the grand strange lady again! And it's little that any man
+could think of our dresses after looking at the robes of satin that she
+had on! And all at church, from high to low, had their mouths open,
+gazing at her, and no man was looking at us."
+
+The two sisters gave neither rest nor peace till they got dresses as
+nearly like the strange lady's robes as they could find. Of course they
+were not so good; for the like of those robes could not be found in
+Erin.
+
+When the third Sunday came, Fair and Brown went to church dressed in
+black satin. They left Trembling at home to work in the kitchen, and
+told her to be sure and have dinner ready when they came back.
+
+After they had gone and were out of sight, the henwife came to the
+kitchen and said: "Well, my dear, are you for church to-day?"
+
+"I would go if I had a new dress to wear."
+
+"I'll get you any dress you ask for. What dress would you like?" asked
+the henwife.
+
+"A dress red as a rose from the waist down, and white as snow from the
+waist up; a cape of green on my shoulders; and a hat on my head with a
+red, a white, and a green feather in it; and shoes for my feet with the
+toes red, the middle white, and the backs and heels green."
+
+The henwife put on the cloak of darkness, wished for all these things,
+and had them. When Trembling was dressed, the henwife put the
+honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left, and,
+placing the hat on her head, clipped a few hairs from one lock and a
+few from another with her scissors, and that moment the most beautiful
+golden hair was flowing down over the girl's shoulders. Then the
+henwife asked what kind of a mare she would ride. She said white, with
+blue and gold-coloured diamond-shaped spots all over her body, on her
+back a saddle of gold, and on her head a golden bridle.
+
+The mare stood there before the door, and a bird sitting between her
+ears, which began to sing as soon as Trembling was in the saddle, and
+never stopped till she came home from the church.
+
+The fame of the beautiful strange lady had gone out through the world,
+and all the princes and great men that were in it came to church that
+Sunday, each one hoping that it was himself would have her home with
+him after Mass.
+
+The son of the king of Emania forgot all about the eldest sister, and
+remained outside the church, so as to catch the strange lady before she
+could hurry away.
+
+The church was more crowded than ever before, and there were three
+times as many outside. There was such a throng before the church that
+Trembling could only come inside the gate.
+
+As soon as the people were rising at the end of Mass, the lady slipped
+out through the gate, was in the golden saddle in an instant, and
+sweeping away ahead of the wind. But if she was, the prince of Emania
+was at her side, and, seizing her by the foot, he ran with the mare for
+thirty perches, and never let go of the beautiful lady till the shoe
+was pulled from her foot, and he was left behind with it in his hand.
+She came home as fast as the mare could carry her, and was thinking all
+the time that the henwife would kill her for losing the shoe.
+
+Seeing her so vexed and so changed in the face, the old woman asked:
+"What's the trouble that's on you now?" "Oh! I've lost one of the shoes
+off my feet," said Trembling.
+
+"Don't mind that; don't be vexed," said the henwife; "maybe it's the
+best thing that ever happened to you."
+
+Then Trembling gave up all the things she had to the henwife, put on
+her old clothes, and went to work in the kitchen. When the sisters came
+home, the henwife asked: "Have you any news from the church?"
+
+"We have indeed," said they, "for we saw the grandest sight to-day. The
+strange lady came again, in grander array than before. On herself and
+the horse she rode were the finest colours of the world, and between
+the ears of the horse was a bird which never stopped singing from the
+time she came till she went away. The lady herself is the most
+beautiful woman ever seen by man in Erin."
+
+After Trembling had disappeared from the church, the son of the king of
+Emania said to the other kings' sons: "I will have that lady for my
+own."
+
+They all said: "You didn't win her just by taking the shoe off her
+foot; you'll have to win her by the point of the sword; you'll have to
+fight for her with us before you can call her your own."
+
+"Well," said the son of the king of Emania, "when I find the lady that
+shoe will fit, I'll fight for her, never fear, before I leave her to
+any of you."
+
+Then all the kings' sons were uneasy, and anxious to know who was she
+that lost the shoe; and they began to travel all over Erin to know
+could they find her. The prince of Emania and all the others went in a
+great company together, and made the round of Erin; they went
+everywhere,--north, south, east, and west. They visited every place
+where a woman was to be found, and left not a house in the kingdom they
+did not search, to know could they find the woman the shoe would fit,
+not caring whether she was rich or poor, of high or low degree.
+
+The prince of Emania always kept the shoe; and when the young women saw
+it, they had great hopes, for it was of proper size, neither large nor
+small, and it would beat any man to know of what material it was made.
+One thought it would fit her if she cut a little from her great toe;
+and another, with too short a foot, put something in the tip of her
+stocking. But no use; they only spoiled their feet, and were curing
+them for months afterwards.
+
+The two sisters, Fair and Brown, heard that the princes of the world
+were looking all over Erin for the woman that could wear the shoe, and
+every day they were talking of trying it on; and one day Trembling
+spoke up and said: "Maybe it's my foot that the shoe will fit."
+
+"Oh, the breaking of the dog's foot on you! Why say so when you were at
+home every Sunday?"
+
+They were that way waiting, and scolding the younger sister, till the
+princes were near the place. The day they were to come, the sisters put
+Trembling in a closet, and locked the door on her. When the company
+came to the house, the prince of Emania gave the shoe to the sisters.
+But though they tried and tried, it would fit neither of them.
+
+"Is there any other young woman in the house?" asked the prince.
+
+"There is," said Trembling, speaking up in the closet; "I'm here."
+
+"Oh! we have her for nothing but to put out the ashes," said the
+sisters.
+
+But the prince and the others wouldn't leave the house till they had
+seen her; so the two sisters had to open the door. When Trembling came
+out, the shoe was given to her, and it fitted exactly.
+
+The prince of Emania looked at her and said: "You are the woman the
+shoe fits, and you are the woman I took the shoe from."
+
+Then Trembling spoke up, and said: "Do you stay here till I return."
+
+Then she went to the henwife's house. The old woman put on the cloak of
+darkness, got everything for her she had the first Sunday at church,
+and put her on the white mare in the same fashion. Then Trembling rode
+along the highway to the front of the house. All who saw her the first
+time said: "This is the lady we saw at church."
+
+Then she went away a second time, and a second time came back on the
+black mare in the second dress which the henwife gave her. All who saw
+her the second Sunday said: "That is the lady we saw at church."
+
+A third time she asked for a short absence, and soon came back on the
+third mare and in the third dress. All who saw her the third time said:
+"That is the lady we saw at church." Every man was satisfied, and knew
+that she was the woman.
+
+Then all the princes and great men spoke up, and said to the son of the
+king of Emania: "You'll have to fight now for her before we let her go
+with you."
+
+"I'm here before you, ready for combat," answered the prince.
+
+Then the son of the king of Lochlin stepped forth. The struggle began,
+and a terrible struggle it was. They fought for nine hours; and then
+the son of the king of Lochlin stopped, gave up his claim, and left the
+field. Next day the son of the king of Spain fought six hours, and
+yielded his claim. On the third day the son of the king of Nyerfoi
+fought eight hours, and stopped. The fourth day the son of the king of
+Greece fought six hours, and stopped. On the fifth day no more strange
+princes wanted to fight; and all the sons of kings in Erin said they
+would not fight with a man of their own land, that the strangers had
+had their chance, and, as no others came to claim the woman, she
+belonged of right to the son of the king of Emania.
+
+The marriage-day was fixed, and the invitations were sent out. The
+wedding lasted for a year and a day. When the wedding was over, the
+king's son brought home the bride, and when the time came a son was
+born. The young woman sent for her eldest sister, Fair, to be with her
+and care for her. One day, when Trembling was well, and when her
+husband was away hunting, the two sisters went out to walk; and when
+they came to the seaside, the eldest pushed the youngest sister in. A
+great whale came and swallowed her.
+
+The eldest sister came home alone, and the husband asked, "Where is
+your sister?"
+
+"She has gone home to her father in Ballyshannon; now that I am well, I
+don't need her."
+
+"Well," said the husband, looking at her, "I'm in dread it's my wife
+that has gone."
+
+"Oh! no," said she; "it's my sister Fair that's gone."
+
+Since the sisters were very much alike, the prince was in doubt. That
+night he put his sword between them, and said: "If you are my wife,
+this sword will get warm; if not, it will stay cold."
+
+In the morning when he rose up, the sword was as cold as when he put it
+there.
+
+It happened, when the two sisters were walking by the seashore, that a
+little cowboy was down by the water minding cattle, and saw Fair push
+Trembling into the sea; and next day, when the tide came in, he saw the
+whale swim up and throw her out on the sand. When she was on the sand
+she said to the cowboy: "When you go home in the evening with the cows,
+tell the master that my sister Fair pushed me into the sea yesterday;
+that a whale swallowed me, and then threw me out, but will come again
+and swallow me with the coming of the next tide; then he'll go out with
+the tide, and come again with to-morrow's tide, and throw me again on
+the strand. The whale will cast me out three times. I'm under the
+enchantment of this whale, and cannot leave the beach or escape myself.
+Unless my husband saves me before I'm swallowed the fourth time, I
+shall be lost. He must come and shoot the whale with a silver bullet
+when he turns on the broad of his back. Under the breast-fin of the
+whale is a reddish-brown spot. My husband must hit him in that spot,
+for it is the only place in which he can be killed."
+
+When the cowboy got home, the eldest sister gave him a draught of
+oblivion, and he did not tell.
+
+Next day he went again to the sea. The whale came and cast Trembling on
+shore again. She asked the boy "Did you tell the master what I told you
+to tell him?"
+
+"I did not," said he; "I forgot."
+
+"How did you forget?" asked she.
+
+"The woman of the house gave me a drink that made me forget."
+
+"Well, don't forget telling him this night; and if she gives you a
+drink, don't take it from her."
+
+As soon as the cowboy came home, the eldest sister offered him a drink.
+He refused to take it till he had delivered his message and told all to
+the master. The third day the prince went down with his gun and a
+silver bullet in it. He was not long down when the whale came and threw
+Trembling upon the beach as the two days before. She had no power to
+speak to her husband till he had killed the whale. Then the whale went
+out, turned over once on the broad of his back, and showed the spot for
+a moment only. That moment the prince fired. He had but the one chance,
+and a short one at that; but he took it, and hit the spot, and the
+whale, mad with pain, made the sea all around red with blood, and died.
+
+That minute Trembling was able to speak, and went home with her
+husband, who sent word to her father what the eldest sister had done.
+The father came, and told him any death he chose to give her to give
+it. The prince told the father he would leave her life and death with
+himself. The father had her put out then on the sea in a barrel, with
+provisions in it for seven years.
+
+In time Trembling had a second child, a daughter. The prince and she
+sent the cowboy to school, and trained him up as one of their own
+children, and said: "If the little girl that is born to us now lives,
+no other man in the world will get her but him."
+
+The cowboy and the prince's daughter lived on till they were married.
+The mother said to her husband "You could not have saved me from the
+whale but for the little cowboy; on that account I don't grudge him my
+daughter."
+
+The son of the king of Emania and Trembling had fourteen children, and
+they lived happily till the two died of old age.
+
+
+
+
+JACK AND HIS MASTER
+
+A poor woman had three sons. The eldest and second eldest were cunning
+clever fellows, but they called the youngest Jack the Fool, because
+they thought he was no better than a simpleton. The eldest got tired of
+staying at home, and said he'd go look for service. He stayed away a
+whole year, and then came back one day, dragging one foot after the
+other, and a poor wizened face on him, and he as cross as two sticks.
+When he was rested and got something to eat, he told them how he got
+service with the Gray Churl of the Townland of Mischance, and that the
+agreement was, whoever would first say he was sorry for his bargain,
+should get an inch wide of the skin of his back, from shoulder to hips,
+taken off. If it was the master, he should also pay double wages; if it
+was the servant, he should get no wages at all. "But the thief," says
+he, "gave me so little to eat, and kept me so hard at work, that flesh
+and blood couldn't stand it; and when he asked me once, when I was in a
+passion, if I was sorry for my bargain, I was mad enough to say I was,
+and here I am disabled for life."
+
+Vexed enough were the poor mother and brothers; and the second eldest
+said on the spot he'd go and take service with the Gray Churl, and
+punish him by all the annoyance he'd give him till he'd make him say he
+was sorry for his agreement. "Oh, won't I be glad to see the skin
+coming off the old villain's back!" said he. All they could say had no
+effect: he started off for the Townland of Mischance, and in a
+twelvemonth he was back just as miserable and helpless as his brother.
+
+All the poor mother could say didn't prevent Jack the Fool from
+starting to see if he was able to regulate the Gray Churl. He agreed
+with him for a year for twenty pounds, and the terms were the same.
+
+"Now, Jack," said the Gray Churl, "if you refuse to do anything you are
+able to do, you must lose a month's wages."
+
+"I'm satisfied," said Jack; "and if you stop me from doing a thing
+after telling me to do it, you are to give me an additional month's
+wages."
+
+"I am satisfied," says the master.
+
+"Or if you blame me for obeying your orders, you must give the same."
+
+"I am satisfied," said the master again.
+
+The first day that Jack served he was fed very poorly, and was worked
+to the saddleskirts. Next day he came in just before the dinner was
+sent up to the parlour. They were taking the goose off the spit, but
+well becomes Jack he whips a knife off the dresser, and cuts off one
+side of the breast, one leg and thigh, and one wing, and fell to. In
+came the master, and began to abuse him for his assurance. "Oh, you
+know, master, you're to feed me, and wherever the goose goes won't have
+to be filled again till supper. Are you sorry for our agreement?"
+
+The master was going to cry out he was, but he bethought himself in
+time. "Oh no, not at all," said he.
+
+"That's well," said Jack.
+
+Next day Jack was to go clamp turf on the bog. They weren't sorry to
+have him away from the kitchen at dinner time. He didn't find his
+breakfast very heavy on his stomach; so he said to the mistress, "I
+think, ma'am, it will be better for me to get my dinner now, and not
+lose time coming home from the bog."
+
+"That's true, Jack," said she. So she brought out a good cake, and a
+print of butter, and a bottle of milk, thinking he'd take them away to
+the bog. But Jack kept his seat, and never drew rein till bread,
+butter, and milk went down the red lane.
+
+"Now, mistress," said he, "I'll be earlier at my work to-morrow if I
+sleep comfortably on the sheltery side of a pile of dry peat on dry
+grass, and not be coming here and going back. So you may as well give
+me my supper, and be done with the day's trouble." She gave him that,
+thinking he'd take it to the bog; but he fell to on the spot, and did
+not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was a little
+astonished.
+
+He called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said he, "What are
+servants asked to do in this country after aten their supper?"
+
+"Nothing at all, but to go to bed."
+
+"Oh, very well, sir." He went up on the stable-loft, stripped, and lay
+down, and some one that saw him told the master. He came up.
+
+"Jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "To go to sleep,
+master. The mistress, God bless her, is after giving me my breakfast,
+dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the next thing.
+Do you blame me, sir?"
+
+"Yes, you rascal, I do."
+
+"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir."
+
+"One divel and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?"
+
+"Oh, I see, you've forgot your bargain. Are you sorry for it?"
+
+"Oh, ya--no, I mean. I'll give you the money after your nap."
+
+Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "You are
+to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock." The
+master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was
+Jack, and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, and
+the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the sod, and Jack
+pulling ding-dong again' the horses.
+
+"What are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master.
+
+"An' ain't I strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you told me;
+but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the bastes in spite of all
+I say; will you speak to him?"
+
+"No, but I'll speak to you. Didn't you know, you bosthoon, that when I
+said 'holding the plough,' I meant reddening the ground."
+
+"Faith, an' if you did, I wish you had said so. Do you blame me for
+what I have done?"
+
+The master caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said
+nothing.
+
+"Go on and redden the ground now, you knave, as other ploughmen do."
+
+"An' are you sorry for our agreement?"
+
+"Oh, not at all, not at all!"
+
+Jack, ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the day.
+
+In a day or two the master bade him go and mind the cows in a field
+that had half of it under young corn. "Be sure, particularly," said he,
+"to keep Browney from the wheat; while she's out of mischief there's no
+fear of the rest."
+
+About noon, he went to see how Jack was doing his duty, and what did he
+find but Jack asleep with his face to the sod, Browney grazing near a
+thorn-tree, one end of a long rope round her horns, and the other end
+round the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating the
+green wheat. Down came the switch on Jack.
+
+"Jack, you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at?"
+
+"And do you blame, master?"
+
+"To be sure, you lazy sluggard, I do?"
+
+"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, master. You said if I
+only kept Browney out of mischief, the rest would do no harm. There she
+is as harmless as a lamb. Are you sorry for hiring me, master?"
+
+"To be--that is, not at all. I'll give you your money when you go to
+dinner. Now, understand me; don't let a cow go out of the field nor
+into the wheat the rest of the day."
+
+"Never fear, master!" and neither did he. But the churl would rather
+than a great deal he had not hired him.
+
+The next day three heifers were missing, and the master bade Jack go in
+search of them.
+
+"Where will I look for them?" said Jack.
+
+"Oh, every place likely and unlikely for them all to be in."
+
+The churl was getting very exact in his words. When he was coming into
+the bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find Jack at but pulling
+armfuls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into the holes he was
+making?
+
+"What are you doing there, you rascal?"
+
+"Sure, I'm looking for the heifers, poor things!"
+
+"What would bring them there?"
+
+"I don't think anything could bring them in it; but I looked first into
+the likely places, that is, the cow-houses, and the pastures, and the
+fields next 'em, and now I'm looking in the unlikeliest place I can
+think of. Maybe it's not pleasing to you it is."
+
+"And to be sure it isn't pleasing to me, you aggravating goose-cap!"
+
+"Please, sir, hand me one pound thirteen and four pence before you sit
+down to your dinner. I'm afraid it's sorrow that's on you for hiring me
+at all."
+
+"May the div--oh no; I'm not sorry. Will you begin, if you please, and
+put in the thatch again, just as if you were doing it for your mother's
+cabin?"
+
+"Oh, faith I will, sir, with a heart and a half;" and by the time the
+farmer came out from his dinner, Jack had the roof better than it was
+before, for he made the boy give him new straw.
+
+Says the master when he came out, "Go, Jack, and look for the heifers,
+and bring them home."
+
+"And where will I look for 'em?"
+
+"Go and search for them as if they were your own." The heifers were all
+in the paddock before sunset.
+
+Next morning, says the master, "Jack, the path across the bog to the
+pasture is very bad; the sheep does be sinking in it every step; go and
+make the sheep's feet a good path." About an hour after he came to the
+edge of the bog, and what did he find Jack at but sharpening a carving
+knife, and the sheep standing or grazing round.
+
+"Is this the way you are mending the path, Jack?" said he.
+
+"Everything must have a beginning, master," said Jack, "and a thing
+well begun is half done. I am sharpening the knife, and I'll have the
+feet off every sheep in the flock while you'd be blessing yourself."
+
+"Feet off my sheep, you anointed rogue! and what would you be taking
+their feet off for?"
+
+"An' sure to mend the path as you told me. Says you, 'Jack, make a path
+with the foot of the sheep.'"
+
+"Oh, you fool, I meant make good the path for the sheep's feet."
+
+"It's a pity you didn't say so, master. Hand me out one pound thirteen
+and fourpence if you don't like me to finish my job."
+
+"Divel do you good with your one pound thirteen and fourpence!"
+
+"It's better pray than curse, master. Maybe you're sorry for your
+bargain?"
+
+"And to be sure I am--not yet, any way."
+
+The next night the master was going to a wedding; and says he to Jack,
+before he set out: "I'll leave at midnight, and I wish you, to come and
+be with me home, for fear I might be overtaken with the drink. If
+you're there before, you may throw a sheep's eye at me, and I'll be
+sure to see that they'll give you something for yourself."
+
+About eleven o'clock, while the master was in great spirits, he felt
+something clammy hit him on the cheek. It fell beside his tumbler, and
+when he looked at it what was it but the eye of a sheep. Well, he
+couldn't imagine who threw it at him, or why it was thrown at him.
+After a little he got a blow on the other cheek, and still it was by
+another sheep's eye. Well, he was very vexed, but he thought better to
+say nothing. In two minutes more, when he was opening his mouth to take
+a sup, another sheep's eye was slapped into it. He sputtered it out,
+and cried, "Man o' the house, isn't it a great shame for you to have
+any one in the room that would do such a nasty thing?"
+
+"Master," says Jack, "don't blame the honest man. Sure it's only myself
+that was thrown' them sheep's eyes at you, to remind you I was here,
+and that I wanted to drink the bride and bridegroom's health. You know
+yourself bade me."
+
+"I know that you are a great rascal; and where did you get the eyes?"
+
+"An' where would I get em' but in the heads of your own sheep? Would
+you have me meddle with the bastes of any neighbour, who might put me
+in the Stone Jug for it?"
+
+"Sorrow on me that ever I had the bad luck to meet with you."
+
+"You're all witness," said Jack, "that my master says he is sorry for
+having met with me. My time is up. Master, hand me over double wages,
+and come into the next room, and lay yourself out like a man that has
+some decency in him, till I take a strip of skin an inch broad from
+your shoulder to your hip."
+
+Every one shouted out against that; but, says Jack, "You didn't hinder
+him when he took the same strips from the backs of my two brothers, and
+sent them home in that state, and penniless, to their poor mother."
+
+When the company heard the rights of the business, they were only too
+eager to see the job done. The master bawled and roared, but there was
+no help at hand. He was stripped to his hips, and laid on the floor in
+the next room, and Jack had the carving knife in his hand ready to
+begin.
+
+"Now you cruel old villain," said he, giving the knife a couple of
+scrapes along the floor, "I'll make you an offer. Give me, along with
+my double wages, two hundred guineas to support my poor brothers, and
+I'll do without the strap."
+
+"No!" said he, "I'd let you skin me from head to foot first."
+
+"Here goes then," said Jack with a grin, but the first little scar he
+gave, Churl roared out, "Stop your hand; I'll give the money."
+
+"Now, neighbours," said Jack, "you mustn't think worse of me than I
+deserve. I wouldn't have the heart to take an eye out of a rat itself;
+I got half a dozen of them from the butcher, and only used three of
+them."
+
+So all came again into the other room, and Jack was made sit down, and
+everybody drank his health, and he drank everybody's health at one
+offer. And six stout fellows saw himself and the master home, and
+waited in the parlour while he went up and brought down the two hundred
+guineas, and double wages for Jack himself. When he got home, he
+brought the summer along with him to the poor mother and the disabled
+brothers; and he was no more Jack the Fool in the people's mouths, but
+"Skin Churl Jack."
+
+
+
+
+BETH GELLERT
+
+Print Llewelyn had a favourite greyhound named Gellert that had been
+given to him by his father-in-law, King John. He was as gentle as a
+lamb at home but a lion in the chase. One day Llewelyn went to the
+chase and blew his horn in front of his castle. All his other dogs came
+to the call but Gellert never answered it. So he blew a louder blast on
+his horn and called Gellert by name, but still the greyhound did not
+come. At last Prince Llewelyn could wait no longer and went off to the
+hunt without Gellert. He had little sport that day because Gellert was
+not there, the swiftest and boldest of his hounds.
+
+He turned back in a rage to  his castle, and as he came to the gate,
+who should he see but Gellert come bounding out to meet him. But when
+the hound came near him, the Prince was startled to see that his lips
+and fangs were dripping with blood. Llewelyn started back and the
+greyhound crouched down at his feet as if surprised or afraid at the
+way his master greeted him.
+
+Now Prince Llewelyn had a little son a year old with whom Gellert used
+to play, and a terrible thought crossed the Prince's mind that made him
+rush towards the child's nursery. And the nearer he came the more blood
+and disorder he found about the rooms. He rushed into it and found the
+child's cradle overturned and daubed with blood.
+
+Prince Llewelyn grew more and more terrified, and sought for his little
+son everywhere. He could find him nowhere but only signs of some
+terrible conflict in which much blood had been shed. At last he felt
+sure the dog had destroyed his child, and shouting to Gellert,
+"Monster, thou hast devoured my child," he drew out his sword and
+plunged it in the greyhound's side, who fell with a deep yell and still
+gazing in his master's eyes.
+
+As Gellert raised his dying yell, a little child's cry answered it from
+beneath the cradle, and there Llewelyn found his child unharmed and
+just awakened from sleep. But just beside him lay the body of a great
+gaunt wolf all torn to pieces and covered with blood. Too late,
+Llewelyn learned what had happened while he was away. Gellert had
+stayed behind to guard the child and had fought and slain the wolf that
+had tried to destroy Llewelyn's heir.
+
+In vain was all Llewelyn's grief; he could not bring his faithful dog
+to life again. So he buried him outside the castle walls within sight
+of the great mountain of Snowdon, where every passer-by might see his
+grave, and raised over it a great cairn of stones. And to this day the
+place is called Beth Gellert, or the Grave of Gellert.
+
+
+
+
+THE TALE OF IVAN
+
+There were formerly a man and a woman living in the parish of
+Llanlavan, in the place which is called Hwrdh. And work became scarce,
+so the man said to his wife, "I will go search for work, and you may
+live here." So he took fair leave, and travelled far toward the East,
+and at last came to the house of a farmer and asked for work.
+
+"What work can ye do?" said the farmer. "I can do all kinds of work,"
+said Ivan. Then they agreed upon three pounds for the year's wages.
+
+When the end of the year came his master showed him the three pounds.
+"See, Ivan," said he, "here's your wage; but if you will give it me
+back I'll give you a piece of advice instead."
+
+"Give me my wage," said Ivan.
+
+"No, I'll not," said the master; "I'll explain my advice."
+
+"Tell it me, then," said Ivan.
+
+Then said the master, "Never leave the old road for the sake of a new
+one."
+
+After that they agreed for another year at the old wages, and at the
+end of it Ivan took instead a piece of advice, and this was it: "Never
+lodge where an old man is married to a young woman."
+
+The same thing happened at the end of the third year, when the piece of
+advice was: "Honesty is the best policy."
+
+But Ivan would not stay longer, but wanted to go back to his wife.
+
+"Don't go to-day," said his master; "my wife bakes to-morrow, and she
+shall make thee a cake to take home to thy good woman."
+
+And when Ivan was going to leave, "Here," said his master, "here is a
+cake for thee to take home to thy wife, and, when ye are most joyous
+together, then break the cake, and not sooner."
+
+So he took fair leave of them and travelled towards home, and at last
+he came to Wayn Her, and there he met three merchants from Tre Rhyn, of
+his own parish, coming home from Exeter Fair. "Oho! Ivan," said they,
+"come with us; glad are we to see you. Where have you been so long?"
+
+"I have been in service," said Ivan, "and now I'm going home to my
+wife."
+
+"Oh, come with us! you'll be right welcome." But when they took the new
+road Ivan kept to the old one. And robbers fell upon them before they
+had gone far from Ivan as they were going by the fields of the houses
+in the meadow. They began to cry out, "Thieves!" and Ivan shouted out
+"Thieves!" too. And when the robbers heard Ivan's shout they ran away,
+and the merchants went by the new road and Ivan by the old one till
+they met again at Market-Jew.
+
+"Oh, Ivan," said the merchants, "we are beholding to you; but for you
+we would have been lost men. Come lodge with us at our cost, and
+welcome."
+
+When they came to the place where they used to lodge, Ivan said, "I
+must see the host."
+
+"The host," they cried; "what do you want with the host? Here is the
+hostess, and she's young and pretty. If you want to see the host you'll
+find him in the kitchen."
+
+So he went into the kitchen to see the host; he found him a weak old
+man turning the spit.
+
+"Oh! oh!" quoth Ivan, "I'll not lodge here, but will go next door."
+
+"Not yet," said the merchants, "sup with us, and welcome."
+
+Now it happened that the hostess had plotted with a certain monk in
+Market-Jew to murder the old man in his bed that night while the rest
+were asleep, and they agreed to lay it on the lodgers.
+
+So while Ivan was in bed next door, there was a hole in the pine-end of
+the house, and he saw a light through it. So he got up and looked, and
+heard the monk speaking. "I had better cover this hole," said he, "or
+people in the next house may see our deeds." So he stood with his back
+against it while the hostess killed the old man.
+
+But meanwhile Ivan out with his knife, and putting it through the hole,
+cut a round piece off the monk's robe. The very next morning the
+hostess raised the cry that her husband was murdered, and as there was
+neither man nor child in the house but the merchants, she declared they
+ought to be hanged for it.
+
+So they were taken and carried to prison, till a last Ivan came to
+them. "Alas! alas! Ivan," cried they, "bad luck sticks to us; our host
+was killed last night, and we shall be hanged for it."
+
+"Ah, tell the justices," said Ivan, "to summon the real murderers."
+
+"Who knows," they replied, "who committed the crime?"
+
+"Who committed the crime!" said Ivan. "If I cannot prove who committed
+the crime, hang me in your stead."
+
+So he told all he knew, and brought out the piece of cloth from the
+monk's robe, and with that the merchants were set at liberty, and the
+hostess and the monk were seized and hanged.
+
+Then they came all together out of Market-Jew, and they said to him:
+"Come as far as Coed Carrn y Wylfa, the Wood of the Heap of Stones of
+Watching, in the parish of Burman." Then their two roads separated, and
+though the merchants wished Ivan to go with them, he would not go with
+them, but went straight home to his wife.
+
+And when his wife saw him she said: "Home in the nick of time. Here's a
+purse of gold that I've found; it has no name, but sure it belongs to
+the great lord yonder. I was just thinking what to do when you came."
+
+Then Ivan thought of the third counsel, and he said "Let us go and give
+it to the great lord."
+
+So they went up to the castle, but the great lord was not in it, so
+they left the purse with the servant that minded the gate, and then
+they went home again and lived in quiet for a time.
+
+But one day the great lord stopped at their house for a drink of water,
+and Ivan's wife said to him: "I hope your lordship found your
+lordship's purse quite safe with all its money in it."
+
+"What purse is that you are talking about?" said the lord.
+
+"Sure, it's your lordship's purse that I left at the castle," said Ivan.
+
+"Come with me and we will see into the matter," said the lord.
+
+So Ivan and his wife went up to the castle, and there they pointed out
+the man to whom they had given the purse, and he had to give it up and
+was sent away from the castle. And the lord was so pleased with Ivan
+that he made him his servant in the stead of the thief.
+
+"Honesty's the best policy!" quoth Ivan, as he skipped about in his new
+quarters. "How joyful I am!"
+
+Then he thought of his old master's cake that he was to eat when he was
+most joyful, and when he broke it, to and behold, inside it was his
+wages for the three years he had been with him.
+
+
+
+
+ANDREW COFFEY
+
+My grandfather, Andrew Coffey, was known to the whole barony as a
+quiet, decent man. And if the whole barony knew him, he knew the whole
+barony, every inch, hill and dale, bog and pasture, field and covert.
+Fancy his surprise one evening, when he found himself in a part of the
+demesne he couldn't recognise a bit. He and his good horse were always
+stumbling up against some tree or stumbling down into some bog-hole
+that by rights didn't ought to be there. On the top of all this the
+rain came pelting down wherever there was a clearing, and the cold
+March wind tore through the trees. Glad he was then when he saw a light
+in the distance, and drawing near found a cabin, though for the life of
+him he couldn't think how it came there. However, in he walked, after
+tying up his horse, and right welcome was the brushwood fire blazing on
+the hearth. And there stood a chair right and tight, that seemed to
+say, "Come, sit down in me." There wasn't a soul else in the room.
+Well, he did sit, and got a little warm and cheered after his
+drenching. But all the while he was wondering and wondering.
+
+"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"
+
+Good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? Look around
+as he might, indoors and out, he could find no creature with two legs
+or four, for his horse was gone.
+
+"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! tell me a story."
+
+It was louder this time, and it was nearer. And then what a thing to
+ask for! It was bad enough not to be let sit by the fire and dry
+oneself, without being bothered for a story.
+
+"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!! Tell me a story, or it'll be the worse
+for you."
+
+My poor grandfather was so dumbfounded that he could only stand and
+stare.
+
+"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! I told you it'd be the worse for you."
+
+And with that, out there bounced, from a cupboard that Andrew Coffey
+had never noticed before, _a man_. And the man was in a towering rage.
+But it wasn't that. And he carried as fine a blackthorn as you'd wish
+to crack a man's head with. But it wasn't that either. But when my
+grandfather clapped eyes on him, he knew him for Patrick Rooney, and
+all the world knew _he'd_ gone overboard, fishing one night long years
+before.
+
+Andrew Coffey would neither stop nor stay, but he took to his heels and
+was out of the house as hard as he could. He ran and he ran taking
+little thought of what was before till at last he ran up against a big
+tree. And then he sat down to rest.
+
+He hadn't sat for a moment when he heard voices.
+
+"It's heavy he is, the vagabond." "Steady now, we'll rest when we get
+under the big tree yonder." Now that happened to be the tree under
+which Andrew Coffey was sitting. At least he thought so, for seeing a
+branch handy he swung himself up by it and was soon snugly hidden away.
+Better see than be seen, thought he.
+
+The rain had stopped and the wind fallen. The night was blacker than
+ever, but Andrew Coffey could see four men, and they were carrying
+between them a long box. Under the tree they came, set the box down,
+opened it, and who should they bring out but--Patrick Rooney. Never a
+word did he say, and he looked as pale as old snow.
+
+Well, one gathered brushwood, and another took out tinder and flint,
+and soon they had a big fire roaring, and my grandfather could see
+Patrick plainly enough. If he had kept still before, he kept stiller
+now. Soon they had four poles up and a pole across, right over the
+fire, for all the world like a spit, and on to the pole they slung
+Patrick Rooney.
+
+"He'll do well enough," said one; "but who's to mind him whilst we're
+away, who'll turn the fire, who'll see that he doesn't burn?"
+
+With that Patrick opened his lips: "Andrew Coffey," said he.
+
+"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"
+
+"I'm much obliged to you, gentlemen," said Andrew Coffey, "but indeed I
+know nothing about the business."
+
+"You'd better come down, Andrew Coffey," said Patrick.
+
+It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he would
+come down. The four men went off and he was left all alone with Patrick.
+
+Then he sat and he kept the fire even, and he kept the spit turning,
+and all the while Patrick looked at him.
+
+Poor Andrew Coffey couldn't make it all out at all, at all, and he
+stared at Patrick and at the fire, and he thought of the little house
+in the wood, till he felt quite dazed.
+
+"Ah, but it's burning me ye are!" says Patrick, very short and sharp.
+
+"I'm sure I beg your pardon," said my grandfather "but might I ask you
+a question?"
+
+"If you want a crooked answer," said Patrick; "turn away or it'll be
+the worse for you."
+
+But my grandfather couldn't get it out of his head; hadn't everybody,
+far and near, said Patrick had fallen overboard. There was enough to
+think about, and my grandfather did think.
+
+"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! IT'S BURNING ME YE ARE."
+
+Sorry enough my grandfather was, and he vowed he wouldn't do so again.
+
+"You'd better not," said Patrick, and he gave him a cock of his eye,
+and a grin of his teeth, that just sent a shiver down Andrew Coffey's
+back. Well it was odd, that here he should be in a thick wood he had
+never set eyes upon, turning Patrick Rooney upon a spit. You can't
+wonder at my grandfather thinking and thinking and not minding the fire.
+
+"ANDREW COFFEY, ANDREW COFFEY, IT'S THE DEATH OF YOU I'LL BE."
+
+And with that what did my grandfather see, but Patrick unslinging
+himself from the spit and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened.
+
+It was neither stop nor stay my grandfather made, but out he ran into
+the night of the wood. It seemed to him there wasn't a stone but was
+for his stumbling, not a branch but beat his face, not a bramble but
+tore his skin. And wherever it was clear the rain pelted down and the
+cold March wind howled along.
+
+Glad he was to see a light, and a minute after he was kneeling, dazed,
+drenched, and bedraggled by the hearth side. The brushwood flamed, and
+the brushwood crackled, and soon my grandfather began to feel a little
+warm and dry and easy in his mind.
+
+"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!"
+
+It's hard for a man to jump when he has been through all my grandfather
+had, but jump he did. And when he looked around, where should he find
+himself but in the very cabin he had first met Patrick in.
+
+"Andrew Coffey, Andrew Coffey, tell me a story."
+
+"Is it a story you want?" said my grandfather as bold as may be, for he
+was just tired of being frightened. "Well if you can tell me the rights
+of this one, I'll be thankful."
+
+And he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last that
+night. The tale was long, and may be Andrew Coffey was weary. It's
+asleep he must have fallen, for when he awoke he lay on the hill-side
+under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side.
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS
+
+I will tell you a story about the wren. There was once a farmer who was
+seeking a servant, and the wren met him and said: "What are you
+seeking?"
+
+"I am seeking a servant," said the farmer to the wren.
+
+"Will you take me?" said the wren.
+
+"You, you poor creature, what good would you do?"
+
+"Try me," said the wren.
+
+So he engaged him, and the first work he set him to do was threshing in
+the barn. The wren threshed (what did he thresh with? Why a flail to be
+sure), and he knocked off one grain. A mouse came out and she eats that.
+
+"I'll trouble you not to do that again," said the wren.
+
+He struck again, and he struck off two grains. Out came the mouse and
+she eats them. So they arranged a contest to see who was strongest, and
+the wren brings his twelve birds, and the mouse her tribe.
+
+"You have your tribe with you," said the wren.
+
+"As well as yourself," said the mouse, and she struck out her leg
+proudly. But the wren broke it with his flail, and there was a pitched
+battle on a set day.
+
+When every creature and bird was gathering to battle, the son of the
+king of Tethertown said that he would go to see the battle, and that he
+would bring sure word home to his father the king, who would be king of
+the creatures this year. The battle was over before he arrived all but
+one fight, between a great black raven and a snake. The snake was
+twined about the raven's neck, and the raven held the snake's throat in
+his beak, and it seemed as if the snake would get the victory over the
+raven. When the king's son saw this he helped the raven, and with one
+blow takes the head off the snake. When the raven had taken breath, and
+saw that the snake was dead, he said, "For thy kindness to me this day,
+I will give thee a sight. Come up now on the root of my two wings." The
+king's son put his hands about the raven before his wings, and, before
+he stopped, he took him over nine Bens, and nine Glens, and nine
+Mountain Moors.
+
+"Now," said the raven, "see you that house yonder? Go now to it. It is
+a sister of mine that makes her dwelling in it; and I will go bail that
+you are welcome. And if she asks you, Were you at the battle of the
+birds? say you were. And if she asks, 'Did you see any one like me,'
+say you did, but be sure that you meet me to-morrow morning here, in
+this place." The king's son got good and right good treatment that
+night. Meat of each meat, drink of each drink, warm water to his feet,
+and a soft bed for his limbs.
+
+On the next day the raven gave him the same sight over six Bens, and
+six Glens, and six Mountain Moors. They saw a bothy far off, but,
+though far off, they were soon there. He got good treatment this night,
+as before--plenty of meat and drink, and warm water to his feet, and a
+soft bed to his limbs--and on the next day it was the same thing, over
+three Bens and three Glens, and three Mountain Moors.
+
+On the third morning, instead of seeing the raven as at the other
+times, who should meet him but the handsomest lad he ever saw, with
+gold rings in his hair, with a bundle in his hand. The king's son asked
+this lad if he had seen a big black raven.
+
+Said the lad to him, "You will never see the raven again, for I am that
+raven. I was put under spells by a bad druid; it was meeting you that
+loosed me, and for that you shall get this bundle. Now," said the lad,
+"you must turn back on the self-same steps, and lie a night in each
+house as before; but you must not loose the bundle which I gave ye,
+till in the place where you would most wish to dwell."
+
+The king's son turned his back to the lad, and his face to his father's
+house; and he got lodging from the raven's sisters, just as he got it
+when going forward. When he was nearing his father's house he was going
+through a close wood. It seemed to him that the bundle was growing
+heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it.
+
+When he loosed the bundle he was astonished. In a twinkling he sees the
+very grandest place he ever saw. A great castle, and an orchard about
+the castle, in which was every kind of fruit and herb. He stood full of
+wonder and regret for having loosed the bundle--for it was not in his
+power to put it back again--and he would have wished this pretty place
+to be in the pretty little green hollow that was opposite his father's
+house; but he looked up and saw a great giant coming towards him.
+
+"Bad's the place where you have built the house, king's son," says the
+giant.
+
+"Yes, but it is not here I would wish it to be, though it happens to be
+here by mishap," says the king's son.
+
+"What's the reward for putting it back in the bundle as it was before?"
+
+"What's the reward you would ask?" says the king's son.
+
+"That you will give me the first son you have when he is seven years of
+age," says the giant.
+
+"If I have a son you shall have him," said the king's son.
+
+In a twinkling the giant put each garden, and orchard, and castle in
+the bundle as they were before.
+
+"Now," says the giant, "take your own road, and I will take mine; but
+mind your promise, and if you forget I will remember."
+
+The king's son took to the road, and at the end of a few days he
+reached the place he was fondest of. He loosed the bundle, and the
+castle was just as it was before. And when he opened the castle door he
+sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye upon.
+
+"Advance, king's son," said the pretty maid; "everything is in order
+for you, if you will marry me this very day."
+
+"It's I that am willing," said the king's son. And on the same day they
+married.
+
+But at the end of a day and seven years, who should be seen coming to
+the castle but the giant. The king's son was reminded of his promise to
+the giant, and till now he had not told his promise to the queen.
+
+"Leave the matter between me and the giant," says the queen.
+
+"Turn out your son," says the giant; "mind your promise."
+
+"You shall have him," says the king, "when his mother puts him in order
+for his journey."
+
+The queen dressed up the cook's son, and she gave him to the giant by
+the hand. The giant went away with him; but he had not gone far when he
+put a rod in the hand of the little laddie. The giant asked him--
+
+"If thy father had that rod what would he do with it?"
+
+"If my father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, so that
+they shouldn't be going near the king's meat," said the little laddie.
+
+"Thou'rt the cook's son," said the giant. He catches him by the two
+small ankles and knocks him against the stone that was beside him. The
+giant turned back to the castle in rage and madness, and he said that
+if they did not send out the king's son to him, the highest stone of
+the castle would be the lowest.
+
+Said the queen to the king, "We'll try it yet; the butler's son is of
+the same age as our son."
+
+She dressed up the butler's son, and she gives him to the giant by the
+hand. The giant had not gone far when he put the rod in his hand.
+
+"If thy father had that rod," says the giant, "what would he do with
+it?"
+
+"He would beat the dogs and the cats when they would be coming near the
+king's bottles and glasses."
+
+"Thou art the son of the butler," says the giant and dashed his brains
+out too. The giant returned in a very great rage and anger. The earth
+shook under the sole of his feet, and the castle shook and all that was
+in it.
+
+"OUT HERE WITH THY SON," says the giant, "or in a twinkling the stone
+that is highest in the dwelling will be the lowest." So they had to
+give the king's son to the giant.
+
+When they were gone a little bit from the earth, the giant showed him
+the rod that was in his hand and said: "What would thy father do with
+this rod if he had it?"
+
+The king's son said: "My father has a braver rod than that."
+
+And the giant asked him, "Where is thy father when he has that brave
+rod?"
+
+And the king's son said: "He will be sitting in his kingly chair."
+
+Then the giant understood that he had the right one.
+
+The giant took him to his own house, and he reared him as his own son.
+On a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad heard the
+sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant's house.
+At a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. She beckoned to
+him to come a bit nearer to her, and she said her name was Auburn Mary
+but she told him to go this time, but to be sure to be at the same
+place about that dead midnight.
+
+And as he promised he did. The giant's daughter was at his side in a
+twinkling, and she said, "To-morrow you will get the choice of my two
+sisters to marry; but say that you will not take either, but me. My
+father wants me to marry the son of the king of the Green City, but I
+don't like him." On the morrow the giant took out his three daughters,
+and he said:
+
+"Now, son of the king of Tethertown, thou hast not lost by living with
+me so long. Thou wilt get to wife one of the two eldest of my
+daughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day after the
+wedding."
+
+"If you will give me this pretty little one," says the king's son, "I
+will take you at your word."
+
+The giant's wrath kindled, and he said: "Before thou gett'st her thou
+must do the three things that I ask thee to do."
+
+"Say on," says the king's son.
+
+The giant took him to the byre.
+
+"Now," says the giant, "a hundred cattle are stabled here, and it has
+not been cleansed for seven years. I am going from home to-day, and if
+this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a golden
+apple will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt not get my
+daughter, but 'tis only a drink of thy fresh, goodly, beautiful blood
+that will quench my thirst this night."
+
+He begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well to keep baling
+the great ocean. After midday when sweat was blinding him, the giant's
+youngest daughter came where he was, and she said to him:
+
+"You are being punished, king's son."
+
+"I am that," says the king's son.
+
+"Come over," says Auburn Mary, "and lay down your weariness."
+
+"I will do that," says he, "there is but death awaiting me, at any
+rate." He sat down near her. He was so tired that he fell asleep beside
+her. When he awoke, the giant's daughter was not to be seen, but the
+byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from end to end
+of it and raise no stain. In comes the giant, and he said:
+
+"Hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?"
+
+"I have cleaned it," says he.
+
+"Somebody cleaned it," says the giant.
+
+"You did not clean it, at all events," said the king's son.
+
+"Well, well!" says the giant, "since thou wert so active to-day, thou
+wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds' down,
+from birds with no two feathers of one colour."
+
+The king's son was on foot before the sun; he caught up his bow and his
+quiver of arrows to kill the birds. He took to the moors, but if he
+did, the birds were not so easy to take. He was running after them till
+the sweat was blinding him. About mid-day who should come but Auburn
+Mary.
+
+"You are exhausting yourself, king's son," says she.
+
+"I am," said he.
+
+"There fell but these two blackbirds, and both of one colour."
+
+"Come over and lay down your weariness on this pretty hillock," says
+the giant's daughter.
+
+"It's I am willing," said he.
+
+He thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near her,
+and he was not long there till he fell asleep.
+
+When he awoke, Auburn Mary was gone. He thought he would go back to the
+house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. When the giant came
+home, he said:
+
+"Hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?"
+
+"I thatched it," says he.
+
+"Somebody thatched it," says the giant.
+
+"You did not thatch it," says the king's son.
+
+"Yes, yes!" says the giant. "Now," says the giant, "there is a fir tree
+beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie's nest in its top.
+The eggs thou wilt find in the nest. I must have them for my first
+meal. Not one must be burst or broken, and there are five in the nest."
+
+Early in the morning the king's son went where the tree was, and that
+tree was not hard to hit upon. Its match was not in the whole wood.
+From the foot to the first branch was five hundred feet. The king's son
+was going all round the tree. She came who was always bringing help to
+him.
+
+"You are losing the skin of your hands and feet."
+
+"Ach! I am," says he. "I am no sooner up than down."
+
+"This is no time for stopping," says the giant's daughter. "Now you
+must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones
+apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. When you are
+climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown
+out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on each
+one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. Be sure and
+stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will stay
+behind. Put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of the
+spring at the roots of the tree. When you come to the earth, arrange my
+bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with water from
+the spring, and I shall be alive before you. But don't forget a bone of
+me on the tree."
+
+"How could I kill you," asked the king's son, "after what you have done
+for me?"
+
+"If you won't obey, you and I are done for," said Auburn Mary. "You
+must climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you must do
+as I say."  The king's son obeyed. He killed Auburn Mary, cut the flesh
+from her body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him.
+
+As he went up, the king's son put the bones of Auburn Mary's body
+against the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he came under
+the nest and stood on the last bone.
+
+Then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone,
+then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was so near
+the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot.
+
+He now placed all the bones of Auburn Mary in order again at the side
+of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with water from the
+spring. She rose up before him, and said: "Didn't I tell you not to
+leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? Now I am lame for life!
+You left my little finger on the tree without touching it, and I have
+but nine fingers."
+
+"Now," says she, "go home with the eggs quickly, and you will get me to
+marry to-night if you can know me. I and my two sisters will be arrayed
+in the same garments, and made like each other, but look at me when my
+father says, 'Go to thy wife, king's son;' and you will see a hand
+without a little finger."
+
+He gave the eggs to the giant.
+
+"Yes, yes!" says the giant, "be making ready for your marriage."
+
+Then, indeed, there was a wedding, and it _was_ a wedding! Giants and
+gentlemen, and the son of the king of the Green City was in the midst
+of them. They were married, and the dancing began, that was a dance!
+The giant's house was shaking from top to bottom.
+
+But bed time came, and the giant said, "It is time for thee to go to
+rest, son of the king of Tethertown; choose thy bride to take with thee
+from amidst those."
+
+She put out the hand off which the little finger was, and he caught her
+by the hand.
+
+"Thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no knowing but we may
+meet thee another way," said the giant.
+
+But to rest they went. "Now," says she, "sleep not, or else you are a
+dead man. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father will kill
+you."
+
+Out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the stable they mounted.
+"Stop a while," says she, "and I will play a trick to the old hero."
+She jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and she put two
+shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot of the bed,
+and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two shares at the big
+door, and one outside the house.
+
+The giant awoke and called, "Are you asleep?"
+
+"Not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed.
+
+At the end of a while he called again.
+
+"Not yet," said the apple that was at the foot of the bed.
+
+A while after this he called again: "Are your asleep?"
+
+"Not yet," said the apple at the kitchen door.
+
+The giant called again.
+
+The apple that was at the big door answered.
+
+"You are now going far from me," says the giant.
+
+"Not yet," says the apple that was outside the house.
+
+"You are flying," says the giant. The giant jumped on his feet, and to
+the bed he went, but it was cold--empty.
+
+"My own daughter's tricks are trying me," said the giant. "Here's after
+them," says he.
+
+At the mouth of day, the giant's daughter said that her father's breath
+was burning her back.
+
+"Put your hand, quick," said she, "in the ear of the grey filly, and
+whatever you find in it, throw it behind us."
+
+"There is a twig of sloe tree," said he.
+
+"Throw it behind us," said she.
+
+No sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthorn wood,
+so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it.
+
+The giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neck in
+the thorns.
+
+"My own daughter's tricks are here as before," said the giant; "but if
+I had my own big axe and wood knife here, I would not be long making a
+way through this."
+
+He went home for the big axe and the wood knife, and sure he was not
+long on his journey, and he was the boy behind the big axe. He was not
+long making a way through the blackthorn.
+
+"I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return," says he.
+
+"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," said a hoodie that was in a tree, "we'll
+steal 'em, steal 'em."
+
+"If you will do that," says the giant, "I must take them home." He
+returned home and left them at the house.
+
+At the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath
+burning her back.
+
+"Put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever you find
+in it."
+
+He got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there were twenty
+miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them.
+
+The giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go.
+
+"The tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever met
+me," says the giant; "but if I had my lever and my mighty mattock, I
+would not be long in making my way through this rock also."
+
+There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was
+the boy to split the stones. He was not long in making a road through
+the rock.
+
+"I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more."
+
+"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em,
+steal 'em."
+
+"Do that if you will; there is no time to go back."
+
+At the time of breaking the watch, the giant's daughter said that she
+felt her father's breath burning her back.
+
+"Look in the filly's ear, king's son, or else we are lost."
+
+He did so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear this time.
+He threw it behind him and there was a fresh-water loch, twenty miles
+in length and breadth, behind them.
+
+The giant came on, but with the speed he had on him, he was in the
+middle of the loch, and he went under, and he rose no more.
+
+On the next day the young companions were come in sight of his father's
+house. "Now," says she, "my father is drowned, and he won't trouble us
+any more; but before we go further," says she, "go you to your father's
+house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but let neither man nor
+creature kiss you, for if you do, you will not remember that you have
+ever seen me."
+
+Every one he met gave him welcome and luck, and he charged his father
+and mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old greyhound
+was indoors, and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after
+that he did not remember the giant's daughter.
+
+She was sitting at the well's side as he left her, but the king's son
+was not coming. In the mouth of night she climbed up into a tree of oak
+that was beside the well, and she lay in the fork of that tree all
+night. A shoemaker had a house near the well, and about mid-day on the
+morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a drink for him out of
+the well. When the shoemaker's wife reached the well, and when she saw
+the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking it was her own
+shadow--and she never thought till now that she was so handsome--she
+gave a cast to the dish that was in her hand, and it was broken on the
+ground, and she took herself to the house without vessel or water.
+
+"Where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker.
+
+"You shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have stayed
+too long your water and wood thrall."
+
+"I think, wife, that you have turned crazy. Go you, daughter, quickly,
+and fetch a drink for your father."
+
+His daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. She never
+thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herself home.
+
+"Up with the drink," said her father.
+
+"You home-spun shoe carle, do you think I am fit to be your thrall?"
+
+The poor shoemaker thought that they had taken a turn in their
+understandings, and he went himself to the well. He saw the shadow of
+the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree, and he sees the
+finest woman he ever saw.
+
+"Your seat is wavering, but your face is fair," said the shoemaker.
+"Come down, for there is need of you for a short while at my house."
+
+The shoemaker understood that this was the shadow that had driven his
+people mad. The shoemaker took her to his house, and he said that he
+had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a share of all that was
+in it.
+
+One day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day the king's
+son was to be married. The shoemaker was going to the castle with the
+shoes of the young people, and the girl said to the shoemaker, "I would
+like to get a sight of the king's son before he marries."
+
+"Come with me," says the shoemaker, "I am well acquainted with the
+servants at the castle, and you shall get a sight of the king's son and
+all the company."
+
+And when the gentles saw the pretty woman that was here they took her
+to the wedding-room, and they filled for her a glass of wine. When she
+was going to drink what is in it, a flame went up out of the glass, and
+a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of it. They were flying
+about when three grains of barley fell on the floor. The silver pigeon
+sprung, and ate that up.
+
+Said the golden pigeon to him, "If you remembered when I cleared the
+byre, you would not eat that without giving me a share."
+
+Again there fell three other grains of barley, and the silver pigeon
+sprung, and ate that up as before.
+
+"If you remembered when I thatched the byre, you would not eat that
+without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon.
+
+Three other grains fall, and the silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up.
+
+"If you remembered when I harried the magpie's nest, you would not eat
+that without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon; "I lost my
+little finger bringing it down, and I want it still."
+
+The king's son minded, and he knew who it was that was before him.
+
+"Well," said the king's son to the guests at the feast, "when I was a
+little younger than I am now, I lost the key of a casket that I had. I
+had a new key made, but after it was brought to me I found the old one.
+Now, I'll leave it to any one here to tell me what I am to do. Which of
+the keys should I keep?"
+
+"My advice to you," said one of the guests, "is to keep the old key,
+for it fits the lock better and you're more used to it."
+
+Then the king's son stood up and said: "I thank you for a wise advice
+and an honest word. This is my bride the daughter of the giant who
+saved my life at the risk of her own. I'll have her and no other woman."
+
+So the king's son married Auburn Mary and the wedding lasted long and
+all were happy. But all I got was butter on a live coal, porridge in a
+basket, and they sent me for water to the stream, and the paper shoes
+came to an end.
+
+
+
+
+BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS
+
+In Treneglwys there is a certain shepherd's cot known by the name of
+Twt y Cymrws because of the strange strife that occurred there. There
+once lived there a man and his wife, and they had twins whom the woman
+nursed tenderly. One day she was called away to the house of a
+neighbour at some distance. She did not much like going and leaving her
+little ones all alone in a solitary house, especially as she had heard
+tell of the good folk haunting the neighbourhood.
+
+Well, she went and came back as soon as she could, but on her way back
+she was frightened to see some old elves of the blue petticoat crossing
+her path though it was midday. She rushed home, but found her two
+little ones in the cradle and everything seemed as it was before.
+
+But after a time the good people began to suspect that something was
+wrong, for the twins didn't grow at all.
+
+The man said: "They're not ours."
+
+The woman said: "Whose else should they be?"
+
+And so arose the great strife so that the neighbours named the cottage
+after it. It made the woman very sad, so one evening she made up her
+mind to go and see the Wise Man of Llanidloes, for he knew everything
+and would advise her what to do.
+
+So she went to Llanidloes and told the case to the Wise Man. Now there
+was soon to be a harvest of rye and oats, so the Wise Man said to her,
+"When you are getting dinner for the reapers, clear out the shell of a
+hen's egg and boil some potage in it, and then take it to the door as
+if you meant it as a dinner for the reapers. Then listen if the twins
+say anything. If you hear them speaking of things beyond the
+understanding of children, go back and take them up and throw them into
+the waters of Lake Elvyn. But if you don't hear anything remarkable, do
+them no injury."
+
+So when the day of the reap came the woman did all that the Wise Man
+ordered, and put the eggshell on the fire and took it off and carried
+it to the door, and there she stood and listened. Then she heard one of
+the children say to the other:
+
+  Acorn before oak I knew,
+    An egg before a hen,
+  But I never heard of an eggshell brew
+    A dinner for harvest men.
+
+So she went back into the house, seized the children and threw them
+into the Llyn, and the goblins in their blue trousers came and saved
+their dwarfs and the mother had her own children back and so the great
+strife ended.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAD WITH THE GOAT-SKIN
+
+Long ago, a poor widow woman lived down near the iron forge, by
+Enniscorth, and she was so poor she had no clothes to put on her son;
+so she used to fix him in the ash-hole, near the fire, and pile the
+warm ashes about him; and according as he grew up, she sunk the pit
+deeper. At last, by hook or by crook, she got a goat-skin, and fastened
+it round his waist, and he felt quite grand, and took a walk down the
+street. So says she to him next morning, "Tom, you thief, you never
+done any good yet, and you six foot high, and past nineteen;--take that
+rope and bring me a faggot from the wood."
+
+"Never say't twice, mother," says Tom--"here goes."
+
+When he had it gathered and tied, what should come up but a big giant,
+nine foot high, and made a lick of a club at him. Well become Tom, he
+jumped a-one side, and picked up a ram-pike; and the first crack he
+gave the big fellow, he made him kiss the clod.
+
+"If you have e'er a prayer," says Tom, "now's the time to say it,
+before I make fragments of you."
+
+"I have no prayers," says the giant; "but if you spare my life I'll
+give you that club; and as long as you keep from sin, you'll win every
+battle you ever fight with it."
+
+Tom made no bones about letting him off; and as soon as he got the club
+in his hands, he sat down on the bresna, and gave it a tap with the
+kippeen, and says, "Faggot, I had great trouble gathering you, and run
+the risk of my life for you, the least you can do is to carry me home."
+And sure enough, the wind o' the word was all it wanted. It went off
+through the wood, groaning and crackling, till it came to the widow's
+door.
+
+Well, when the sticks were all burned, Tom was sent off again to pick
+more; and this time he had to fight with a giant that had two heads on
+him. Tom had a little more trouble with him--that's all; and the
+prayers he said, was to give Tom a fife; that nobody could help dancing
+when he was playing it. Begonies, he made the big faggot dance home,
+with himself sitting on it. The next giant was a beautiful boy with
+three heads on him. He had neither prayers nor catechism no more nor
+the others; and so he gave Tom a bottle of green ointment, that
+wouldn't let you be burned, nor scalded, nor wounded. "And now," says
+he, "there's no more of us. You may come and gather sticks here till
+little Lunacy Day in Harvest, without giant or fairy-man to disturb
+you."
+
+Well, now, Tom was prouder nor ten paycocks, and used to take a walk
+down street in the heel of the evening; but some o' the little boys had
+no more manners than if they were Dublin jackeens, and put out their
+tongues at Tom's club and Tom's goat-skin. He didn't like that at all,
+and it would be mean to give one of them a clout. At last, what should
+come through the town but a kind of a bellman, only it's a big bugle he
+had, and a huntsman's cap on his head, and a kind of a painted shirt.
+So this--he wasn't a bellman, and I don't know what to call
+him--bugleman, maybe, proclaimed that the King of Dublin's daughter was
+so melancholy that she didn't give a laugh for seven years, and that
+her father would grant her in marriage to whoever could make her laugh
+three times.
+
+"That's the very thing for me to try," says Tom; and so, without
+burning any more daylight, he kissed his mother, curled his club at the
+little boys, and off he set along the yalla highroad to the town of
+Dublin.
+
+At last Tom came to one of the city gates, and the guards laughed and
+cursed at him instead of letting him in. Tom stood it all for a little
+time, but at last one of them--out of fun, as he said--drove his
+bayonet half an inch or so into his side. Tom done nothing but take the
+fellow by the scruff o' the neck and the waistband of his corduroys,
+and fling him into the canal. Some run to pull the fellow out, and
+others to let manners into the vulgarian with their swords and daggers;
+but a tap from his club sent them headlong into the moat or down on the
+stones, and they were soon begging him to stay his hands.
+
+So at last one of them was glad enough to show Tom the way to the
+palace-yard; and there was the king, and the queen, and the princess,
+in a gallery, looking at all sorts of wrestling, and sword-playing, and
+long-dances, and mumming, all to please the princess; but not a smile
+came over her handsome face.
+
+Well, they all stopped when they seen the young giant, with his boy's
+face, and long black hair, and his short curly beard--for his poor
+mother couldn't afford to buy razors--and his great strong arms, and
+bare legs, and no covering but the goat-skin that reached from his
+waist to his knees. But an envious wizened bit of a fellow, with a red
+head, that wished to be married to the princess, and didn't like how
+she opened her eyes at Tom, came forward, and asked his business very
+snappishly.
+
+"My business," says Tom, says he, "is to make the beautiful princess,
+God bless her, laugh three times."
+
+"Do you see all them merry fellows and skilful swordsmen," says the
+other, "that could eat you up with a grain of salt, and not a mother's
+soul of 'em ever got a laugh from her these seven years?"
+
+So the fellows gathered round Tom, and the bad man aggravated him till
+he told them he didn't care a pinch o' snuff for the whole bilin' of
+'em; let 'em come on, six at a time, and try what they could do.
+
+The king, who was too far off to hear what they were saying, asked what
+did the stranger want.
+
+"He wants," says the red-headed fellow, "to make hares of your best
+men."
+
+"Oh!" says the king, "if that's the way, let one of 'em turn out and
+try his mettle."
+
+So one stood forward, with sword and pot-lid, and made a cut at Tom. He
+struck the fellow's elbow with the club, and up over their heads flew
+the sword, and down went the owner of it on the gravel from a thump he
+got on the helmet. Another took his place, and another, and another,
+and then half a dozen at once, and Tom sent swords, helmets, shields,
+and bodies, rolling over and over, and themselves bawling out that they
+were kilt, and disabled, and damaged, and rubbing their poor elbows and
+hips, and limping away. Tom contrived not to kill any one; and the
+princess was so amused, that she let a great sweet laugh out of her
+that was heard over all the yard.
+
+"King of Dublin," says Tom, "I've quarter your daughter."
+
+And the king didn't know whether he was glad or sorry, and all the
+blood in the princess's heart run into her cheeks.
+
+So there was no more fighting that day, and Tom was invited to dine
+with the royal family. Next day, Redhead told Tom of a wolf, the size
+of a yearling heifer, that used to be serenading about the walls, and
+eating people and cattle; and said what a pleasure it would give the
+king to have it killed.
+
+"With all my heart," says Tom; "send a jackeen to show me where he
+lives, and we'll see how he behaves to a stranger."
+
+The princess was not well pleased, for Tom looked a different person
+with fine clothes and a nice green birredh over his long curly hair;
+and besides, he'd got one laugh out of her. However, the king gave his
+consent; and in an hour and a half the horrible wolf was walking into
+the palace-yard, and Tom a step or two behind, with his club on his
+shoulder, just as a shepherd would be walking after a pet lamb.
+
+The king and queen and princess were safe up in their gallery, but the
+officers and people of the court that wor padrowling about the great
+bawn, when they saw the big baste coming in, gave themselves up, and
+began to make for doors and gates; and the wolf licked his chops, as if
+he was saying, "Wouldn't I enjoy a breakfast off a couple of yez!"
+
+The king shouted out, "O Tom with the Goat-skin, take away that
+terrible wolf, and you must have all my daughter."
+
+But Tom didn't mind him a bit. He pulled out his flute and began to
+play like vengeance; and dickens a man or boy in the yard but began
+shovelling away heel and toe, and the wolf himself was obliged to get
+on his hind legs and dance "Tatther Jack Walsh," along with the rest. A
+good deal of the people got inside, and shut the doors, the way the
+hairy fellow wouldn't pin them; but Tom kept playing, and the outsiders
+kept dancing and shouting, and the wolf kept dancing and roaring with
+the pain his legs were giving him; and all the time he had his eyes on
+Redhead, who was shut out along with the rest. Wherever Redhead went,
+the wolf followed, and kept one eye on him and the other on Tom, to see
+if he would give him leave to eat him. But Tom shook his head, and
+never stopped the tune, and Redhead never stopped dancing and bawling,
+and the wolf dancing and roaring, one leg up and the other down, and he
+ready to drop out of his standing from fair tiresomeness.
+
+When the princess seen that there was no fear of any one being kilt,
+she was so divarted by the stew that Redhead was in, that she gave
+another great laugh; and well become Tom, out he cried, "King of
+Dublin, I have two halves of your daughter."
+
+"Oh, halves or alls," says the king, "put away that divel of a wolf,
+and we'll see about it."
+
+So Tom put his flute in his pocket, and says he to the baste that was
+sittin' on his currabingo ready to faint, "Walk off to your mountain,
+my fine fellow, and live like a respectable baste; and if ever I find
+you come within seven miles of any town, I'll--"
+
+He said no more, but spit in his fist, and gave a flourish of his club.
+It was all the poor divel of a wolf wanted: he put his tail between his
+legs, and took to his pumps without looking at man or mortal, and
+neither sun, moon, or stars ever saw him in sight of Dublin again.
+
+At dinner every one laughed but the foxy fellow; and sure enough he was
+laying out how he'd settle poor Tom next day.
+
+"Well, to be sure!" says he, "King of Dublin, you are in luck. There's
+the Danes moidhering us to no end. Deuce run to Lusk wid 'em! and if
+any one can save us from 'em, it is this gentleman with the goat-skin.
+There is a flail hangin' on the collar-beam, in hell, and neither Dane
+nor devil can stand before it."
+
+"So," says Tom to the king, "will you let me have the other half of the
+princess if I bring you the flail?"
+
+"No, no," says the princess; "I'd rather never be your wife than see
+you in that danger."
+
+But Redhead whispered and nudged Tom about how shabby it would look to
+reneague the adventure. So he asked which way he was to go, and Redhead
+directed him.
+
+Well, he travelled and travelled, till he came in sight of the walls of
+hell; and, bedad, before he knocked at the gates, he rubbed himself
+over with the greenish ointment. When he knocked, a hundred little imps
+popped their heads out through the bars, and axed him what he wanted.
+
+"I want to speak to the big divel of all," says Tom: "open the gate."
+
+It wasn't long till the gate was thrune open, and the Ould Boy received
+Tom with bows and scrapes, and axed his business.
+
+"My business isn't much," says Tom. "I only came for the loan of that
+flail that I see hanging on the collar-beam, for the king of Dublin to
+give a thrashing to the Danes."
+
+"Well," says the other, "the Danes is much better customers to me; but
+since you walked so far I won't refuse. Hand that flail," says he to a
+young imp; and he winked the far-off eye at the same time. So, while
+some were barring the gates, the young devil climbed up, and took down
+the flail that had the handstaff and booltheen both made out of red-hot
+iron. The little vagabond was grinning to think how it would burn the
+hands o' Tom, but the dickens a burn it made on him, no more nor if it
+was a good oak sapling.
+
+"Thankee," says Tom. "Now would you open the gate for a body, and I'll
+give you no more trouble."
+
+"Oh, tramp!" says Ould Nick; "is that the way? It is easier getting
+inside them gates than getting out again. Take that tool from him, and
+give him a dose of the oil of stirrup."
+
+So one fellow put out his claws to seize on the flail, but Tom gave him
+such a welt of it on the side of the head that he broke off one of his
+horns, and made him roar like a devil as he was. Well, they rushed at
+Tom, but he gave them, little and big, such a thrashing as they didn't
+forget for a while. At last says the ould thief of all, rubbing his
+elbow, "Let the fool out; and woe to whoever lets him in again, great
+or small."
+
+So out marched Tom, and away with him, without minding the shouting and
+cursing they kept up at him from the tops of the walls; and when he got
+home to the big bawn of the palace, there never was such running and
+racing as to see himself and the flail. When he had his story told, he
+laid down the flail on the stone steps, and bid no one for their lives
+to touch it. If the king, and queen, and princess, made much of him
+before, they made ten times more of him now; but Redhead, the mean
+scruff-hound, stole over, and thought to catch hold of the flail to
+make an end of him. His fingers hardly touched it, when he let a roar
+out of him as if heaven and earth were coming together, and kept
+flinging his arms about and dancing, that it was pitiful to look at
+him. Tom run at him as soon as he could rise, caught his hands in his
+own two, and rubbed them this way and that, and the burning pain left
+them before you could reckon one. Well the poor fellow, between the
+pain that was only just gone, and the comfort he was in, had the
+comicalest face that you ever see, it was such a mixtherum-gatherum of
+laughing and crying. Everybody burst out a laughing--the princess could
+not stop no more than the rest; and then says Tom, "Now, ma'am, if
+there were fifty halves of you, I hope you'll give me them all."
+
+Well, the princess looked at her father, and by my word, she came over
+to Tom, and put her two delicate hands into his two rough ones, and I
+wish it was myself was in his shoes that day!
+
+Tom would not bring the flail into the palace. You may be sure no other
+body went near it; and when the early risers were passing next morning,
+they found two long clefts in the stone, where it was after burning
+itself an opening downwards, nobody could tell how far. But a messenger
+came in at noon, and said that the Danes were so frightened when they
+heard of the flail coming into Dublin, that they got into their ships,
+and sailed away.
+
+Well, I suppose, before they were married, Tom got some man, like Pat
+Mara of Tomenine, to learn him the "principles of politeness,"
+fluxions, gunnery, and fortification, decimal fractions, practice, and
+the rule of three direct, the way he'd be able to keep up a
+conversation with the royal family. Whether he ever lost his time
+learning them sciences, I'm not sure, but it's as sure as fate that his
+mother never more saw any want till the end of her days.
+
+MAN OR WOMAN BOY OR GIRL THAT READS WHAT FOLLOWS 3 TIMES SHALL FALL
+ASLEEP AN HUNDRED YEARS
+
+JOHN D. BATTEN DREW THIS AUG. 20TH, 1801 GOOD-NIGHT
+
+
+
+
+NOTES AND REFERENCES
+
+It may be as well to give the reader some account of the enormous
+extent of the Celtic folk-tales in existence. I reckon these to extend
+to 2000, though only about 250 are in print. The former number exceeds
+that known in France, Italy, Germany, and Russia, where collection has
+been most active, and is only exceeded by the MS. collection of Finnish
+folk-tales at Helsingfors, said to exceed 12,000. As will be seen, this
+superiority of the Celts is due to the phenomenal and patriotic
+activity of one man, the late J. F. Campbell, of Islay, whose _Popular
+Tales_ and MS. collections (partly described by Mr. Alfred Nutt in
+_Folk-Lore_, i. 369-83) contain references to no less than 1281 tales
+(many of them, of course, variants and scraps). Celtic folk-tales,
+while more numerous, are also the oldest of the tales of modern
+European races; some of them--_e.g._, "Connla," in the present
+selection, occurring in the oldest Irish vellums. They include (1)
+fairy tales properly so-called--_i.e._, tales or anecdotes _about_
+fairies, hobgoblins, &c., told as natural occurrences; (2) hero-tales,
+stories of adventure told of national or mythical heroes; (3)
+folk-tales proper, describing marvellous adventures of otherwise
+unknown heroes, in which there is a defined plot and supernatural
+characters (speaking animals, giants, dwarfs, &c.); and finally (4)
+drolls, comic anecdotes of feats of stupidity or cunning.
+
+The collection of Celtic folk-tales began in IRELAND as early as 1825,
+with T. Crofton Croker's _Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of
+Ireland_. This contained some 38 anecdotes of the first class mentioned
+above, anecdotes showing the belief of the Irish peasantry in the
+existence of fairies, gnomes, goblins, and the like. The Grimms did
+Croker the honour of translating part of his book, under the title of
+_Irische Elfenmaerchen_. Among the novelists and tale-writers of the
+schools of Miss Edgeworth and Lever folk-tales were occasionally
+utilised, as by Carleton in his _Traits and Stories_, by S. Lover in
+his _Legends and Stories_, and by G. Griffin in his _Tales of a
+Jury-Room_. These all tell their tales in the manner of the stage
+Irishman. Chapbooks, _Royal Fairy Tales_ and _Hibernian Tales_, also
+contained genuine folk-tales, and attracted Thackeray's attention in
+his _Irish Sketch-Book_. The Irish Grimm, however, was Patrick Kennedy,
+a Dublin bookseller, who believed in fairies, and in five years (1866-
+71) printed about 100 folk- and hero-tales and drolls (classes 2, 3,
+and 4 above) in his _Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts_, 1866,
+_Fireside Stories of Ireland_, 1870, and _Bardic Stories of Ireland_,
+1871; all three are now unfortunately out of print. He tells his
+stories neatly and with spirit, and retains much that is _volkstuemlich_
+in his diction. He derived his materials from the English-speaking
+peasantry of county Wexford, who changed from Gaelic to English while
+story-telling was in full vigour, and therefore carried over the
+stories with the change of language. Lady Wylde has told many
+folk-tales very effectively in her _Ancient Legends of Ireland_, 1887.
+More recently two collectors have published stories gathered from
+peasants of the West and North who can only speak Gaelic. These are by
+an American gentleman named Curtin, _Myths and Folk-Tales of Ireland_,
+1890; while Dr. Douglas Hyde has published in _Beside the Fireside_,
+1891, spirited English versions of some of the stories he had published
+in the original Irish in his _Leabhar Sgeulaighteachta_, Dublin, 1889.
+Miss Maclintoch has a large MS. collection, part of which has appeared
+in various periodicals; and Messrs. Larminie and D. Fitzgerald are
+known to have much story material in their possession.
+
+But beside these more modern collections there exist in old and middle
+Irish a large number of hero-tales (class 2) which formed the staple of
+the old _ollahms_ or bards. Of these tales of "cattle-liftings,
+elopements, battles, voyages, courtships, caves, lakes, feasts, sieges,
+and eruptions," a bard of even the fourth class had to know seven
+fifties, presumably one for each day of the year. Sir William Temple
+knew of a north-country gentleman of Ireland who was sent to sleep
+every evening with a fresh tale from his bard. The _Book of Leinster_,
+an Irish vellum of the twelfth century, contains a list of 189 of these
+hero-tales, many of which are extant to this day; E. O'Curry gives the
+list in the Appendix to his MS. _Materials of Irish History_. Another
+list of about 70 is given in the preface to the third volume of the
+Ossianic Society's publications. Dr. Joyce published a few of the more
+celebrated of these in _Old Celtic Romances_; others appeared in
+_Atlantis_ (see notes on "Deirdre"), others in Kennedy's _Bardic
+Stories_, mentioned above.
+
+Turning to SCOTLAND, we must put aside Chambers' _Popular Rhymes of
+Scotland_, 1842, which contains for the most part folk-tales common
+with those of England rather than those peculiar to the Gaelic-speaking
+Scots. The first name here in time as in importance is that of J. F.
+Campbell, of Islay. His four volumes, _Popular Tales of the West
+Highlands_ (Edinburgh, 1860-2, recently republished by the Islay
+Association), contain some 120 folk- and hero-tales, told with strict
+adherence to the language of the narrators, which is given with a
+literal, a rather too literal, English version. This careful accuracy
+has given an un-English air to his versions, and has prevented them
+attaining their due popularity. What Campbell has published represents
+only a tithe of what he collected. At the end of the fourth volume he
+gives a list of 791 tales, &c., collected by him or his assistants in
+the two years 1859-61; and in his MS. collections at Edinburgh are two
+other lists containing 400 more tales. Only a portion of these are in
+the Advocates' Library; the rest, if extant, must be in private hands,
+though they are distinctly of national importance and interest.
+
+Campbell's influence has been effective of recent years in Scotland.
+The _Celtic Magazine_ (vols. xii. and xiii.), while under the
+editorship of Mr. MacBain, contained several folk- and hero-tales in
+Gaelic, and so did the _Scotch Celtic Review_. These were from the
+collections of Messrs. Campbell of Tiree, Carmichael, and K. Mackenzie.
+Recently Lord Archibald Campbell has shown laudable interest in the
+preservation of Gaelic folk- and hero-tales. Under his auspices a whole
+series of handsome volumes, under the general title of _Waifs and
+Strays of Celtic Tradition_, has been recently published, four volumes
+having already appeared, each accompanied by notes by Mr. Alfred Nutt,
+which form the most important aid to the study of Celtic Folk-Tales
+since Campbell himself. Those to the second volume in particular (Tales
+collected by Rev. D. MacInnes) fill 100 pages, with condensed
+information on all aspects of the subject dealt with in the light of
+the most recent research in the European folk-tales as well as on
+Celtic literature. Thanks to Mr. Nutt, Scotland is just now to the fore
+in the collection and study of the British Folk-Tale.
+
+WALES makes a poor show beside Ireland and Scotland. Sikes' _British
+Goblins_, and the tales collected by Prof. Rhys in _Y Cymrodor_, vols.
+ii.-vi., are mainly of our first-class fairy anecdotes. Borrow, in his
+_Wild Wales_, refers to a collection of fables in a journal called _The
+Greal_, while the _Cambrian Quarterly Magazine_ for 1830 and 1831
+contained a few fairy anecdotes, including a curious version of the
+"Brewery of Eggshells" from the Welsh. In the older literature, the
+_Iolo MS._, published by the Welsh MS. Society, has a few fables and
+apologues, and the charming _Mabinogion_, translated by Lady Guest, has
+tales that can trace back to the twelfth century and are on the
+border-line between folk-tales and hero-tales.
+
+CORNWALL and MAN are even worse than Wales. Hunt's _Drolls from the
+West of England_ has nothing distinctively Celtic, and it is only by a
+chance Lhuyd chose a folk-tale as his specimen of Cornish in his
+_Archaeologia Britannica_, 1709 (see _Tale of Ivan_). The Manx
+folk-tales published, including the most recent by Mr. Moore, in his
+_Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man_, 1891, are mainly fairy anecdotes and
+legends.
+
+From this survey of the field of Celtic folk-tales it is clear that
+Ireland and Scotland provide the lion's share. The interesting thing to
+notice is the remarkable similarity of Scotch and Irish folk-tales. The
+continuity of language and culture between these two divisions of
+Gaeldom has clearly brought about this identity of their folk-tales. As
+will be seen from the following notes, the tales found in Scotland can
+almost invariably be paralleled by those found in Ireland, and _vice
+versa_. This result is a striking confirmation of the general truth
+that folk-lores of different countries resemble one another in
+proportion to their contiguity and to the continuity of language and
+culture between them.
+
+Another point of interest in these Celtic folk-tales is the light they
+throw upon the relation of hero-tales and folk-tales (classes 2 and 3
+above). Tales told of Finn of Cuchulain, and therefore coming under the
+definition of hero-tales, are found elsewhere told of anonymous or
+unknown heroes. The question is, were the folk-tales the earliest, and
+were they localised and applied to the heroes, or were the heroic sagas
+generalised and applied to an unknown [Greek: tis]? All the evidence,
+in my opinion, inclines to the former view, which, as applied to Celtic
+folk-tales, is of very great literary importance; for it is becoming
+more and more recognised, thanks chiefly to the admirable work of Mr.
+Alfred Nutt, in his _Studies on the Holy Grail_, that the outburst of
+European Romance in the twelfth century was due, in large measure, to
+an infusion of Celtic hero-tales into the literature of the
+Romance-speaking nations. Now the remarkable thing is, how these hero
+tales have lingered on in oral tradition even to the present day. (See
+a marked case in "Deirdre.") We may, therefore, hope to see
+considerable light thrown on the most characteristic spiritual product
+of the Middle Ages, the literature of Romance and the spirit of
+chivalry, from the Celtic folk-tales of the present day. Mr. Alfred
+Nutt has already shown this to be true of a special section of Romance
+literature, that connected with the Holy Grail, and it seems probable
+that further study will extend the field of application of this new
+method of research.
+
+The Celtic folk-tale again has interest in retaining many traits of
+primitive conditions among the early inhabitants of these isles which
+are preserved by no other record. Take, for instance, the calm
+assumption of polygamy in "Gold Tree and Silver Tree." That represents
+a state of feeling that is decidedly pre-Christian. The belief in an
+external soul "Life Index," recently monographed by Mr. Frazer in his
+"Golden Bough," also finds expression in a couple of the Tales (see
+notes on "Sea-Maiden" and "Fair, Brown, and Trembling"), and so with
+many other primitive ideas.
+
+Care, however, has to be taken in using folk-tales as evidence for
+primitive practice among the nations where they are found. For the
+tales may have come from another race--that is, for example, probably
+the case with "Gold Tree and Silver Tree" (see Notes). Celtic tales are
+of peculiar interest in this connection, as they afford one of the best
+fields for studying the problem of diffusion, the most pressing of the
+problems of the folk-tales just at present, at least in my opinion. The
+Celts are at the furthermost end of Europe. Tales that travelled to
+them could go no further and must therefore be the last links in the
+chain.
+
+For all these reasons, then, Celtic folk-tales are of high scientific
+interest to the folk-lorist, while they yield to none in imaginative
+and literary qualities. In any other country of Europe some national
+means of recording them would have long ago been adopted. M. Luzel,
+_e.g._, was commissioned by the French Minister of Public Instruction
+to collect and report on the Breton folk-tales. England, here as
+elsewhere without any organised means of scientific research in the
+historical and philological sciences, has to depend on the enthusiasm
+of a few private individuals for work of national importance. Every
+Celt of these islands or in the Gaeldom beyond the sea, and every
+Celt-lover among the English-speaking nations, should regard it as one
+of the duties of the race to put its traditions on record in the few
+years that now remain before they will cease for ever to be living in
+the hearts and memories of the humbler members of the race.
+
+In the following Notes I have done as in my _English Fairy Tales_, and
+given first, the _sources_ whence I drew the tales, then _parallels_ at
+length for the British Isles, with bibliographical references for
+parallels abroad, and finally, _remarks_ where the tales seemed to need
+them. In these I have not wearied or worried the reader with
+conventional tall talk about the Celtic genius and its manifestations
+in the folk-tale; on that topic one can only repeat Matthew Arnold when
+at his best, in his _Celtic Literature_. Nor have I attempted to deal
+with the more general aspects of the study of the Celtic folk-tale. For
+these I must refer to Mr. Nutt's series of papers in _The Celtic
+Magazine_, vol. xii., or, still better, to the masterly introductions
+he is contributing to the series of _Waifs and Strays of Celtic
+Tradition_, and to Dr. Hyde's _Beside the Fireside_. In my remarks I
+have mainly confined myself to discussing the origin and diffusion of
+the various tales, so far as anything definite could be learnt or
+conjectured on that subject.
+
+Before proceeding to the Notes, I may "put in," as the lawyers say, a
+few summaries of the results reached in them. Of the twenty-six tales,
+twelve (i., ii., v., viii., ix., x., xi., xv., xvi., xvii., xix.,
+xxiv.) have Gaelic originals; three (vii., xiii., xxv.) are from the
+Welsh; one (xxii.) from the now extinct Cornish; one an adaptation of
+an English poem founded on a Welsh tradition (xxi., "Gellert"); and the
+remaining nine are what may be termed Anglo-Irish. Regarding their
+diffusion among the Celts, twelve are both Irish and Scotch (iv., v.,
+vi., ix., x., xiv.-xvii., xix., xx., xxiv); one (xxv.) is common to
+Irish and Welsh; and one (xxii.) to Irish and Cornish; seven are found
+only among the Celts in Ireland (i.-iii., xii., xviii., xxii., xxvi);
+two (viii., xi.) among the Scotch; and three (vii., xiii., xxi.) among
+the Welsh. Finally, so far as we can ascertain their origin, four (v.,
+xvi., xxi., xxii.) are from the East; five (vi., x., xiv., xx., xxv.)
+are European drolls; three of the romantic tales seem to have been
+imported (vii., ix., xix.); while three others are possibly Celtic
+exportations to the Continent (xv., xvii., xxiv.) though the, last may
+have previously come thence; the remaining eleven are, as far as known,
+original to Celtic lands. Somewhat the same result would come out, I
+believe, as the analysis of any representative collection of folk-tales
+of any European district.
+
+
+
+I. CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN.
+
+_Source_.--From the old Irish "Echtra Condla chaim maic Cuind
+Chetchathaig" of the _Leabhar na h-Uidhre_ ("Book of the Dun Cow"),
+which must have been written before 1106, when its scribe Maelmori
+("Servant of Mary") was murdered. The original is given by Windisch in
+his _Irish Grammar_, p. 120, also in the _Trans. Kilkenny Archaeol.
+Soc._ for 1874. A fragment occurs in a Rawlinson MS., described by Dr.
+W. Stokes, _Tripartite Life_, p. xxxvi. I have used the translation of
+Prof. Zimmer in his _Keltische Beitraege_, ii. (_Zeits. f. deutsches
+Altertum_, Bd. xxxiii. 262-4). Dr. Joyce has a somewhat florid version
+in, his _Old Celtic Romances_, from which I have borrowed a touch or
+two. I have neither extenuated nor added aught but the last sentence of
+the Fairy Maiden's last speech. Part of the original is in metrical
+form, so that the whole is of the _cante-fable_ species which I believe
+to be the original form of the folk-tale (Cf. _Eng. Fairy Tales_,
+notes, p. 240, and _infra_, p. 257).
+
+_Parallels_.--Prof. Zimmer's paper contains three other accounts of the
+_terra repromissionis_ in the Irish sagas, one of them being the
+similar adventure of Cormac the nephew of Connla, or Condla Ruad as he
+should be called. The fairy apple of gold occurs in Cormac Mac Art's
+visit to the Brug of Manannan (Nutt's _Holy Grail_, 193).
+
+_Remarks_.--Conn the hundred-fighter had the head-kingship of Ireland
+123-157 A.D., according to the _Annals of the Four Masters_, i. 105. On
+the day of his birth the five great roads from Tara to all parts of
+Ireland were completed: one of them from Dublin is still used.
+Connaught is said to have been named after him, but this is scarcely
+consonant with Joyce's identification with Ptolemy's _Nagnatai_ (_Irish
+Local Names_, i. 75). But there can be little doubt of Conn's existence
+as a powerful ruler in Ireland in the second century. The historic
+existence of Connla seems also to be authenticated by the reference to
+him as Conly, the eldest son of Conn, in the Annals of Clonmacnoise. As
+Conn was succeeded by his third son, Art Enear, Connla was either slain
+or disappeared during his father's lifetime. Under these circumstances
+it is not unlikely that our legend grew up within the century after
+Conn--_i.e._, during the latter half of the second century.
+
+As regards the present form of it, Prof. Zimmer (_l.c._ 261-2) places
+it in the seventh century. It has clearly been touched up by a
+Christian hand who introduced the reference to the day of judgment and
+to the waning power of the Druids. But nothing turns upon this
+interpolation, so that it is likely that even the present form of the
+legend is pre-Christian-_i.e._ for Ireland, pre-Patrician, before the
+fifth century.
+
+The tale of Connla is thus the earliest fairy tale of modern Europe.
+Besides this interest it contains an early account of one of the most
+characteristic Celtic conceptions, that of the earthly Paradise, the
+Isle of Youth, _Tir-nan-Og_. This has impressed itself on the European
+imagination; in the Arthuriad it is represented by the Vale of Avalon,
+and as represented in the various Celtic visions of the future life, it
+forms one of the main sources of Dante's _Divina Commedia_. It is
+possible too, I think, that the Homeric Hesperides and the Fortunate
+Isles of the ancients had a Celtic origin (as is well known, the early
+place-names of Europe are predominantly Celtic). I have found, I
+believe, a reference to the conception in one of the earliest passages
+in the classics dealing with the Druids. Lucan, in his _Pharsalia_ (i.
+450-8), addresses them in these high terms of reverence:
+
+  Et vos barbaricos ritus, moremque sinistrum,
+  Sacrorum, Druidae, positis repetistis ab armis,
+  Solis nosse Deos et coeli numera vobis
+  Aut solis nescire datum; nemora alta remotis
+  Incolitis lucis. Vobis auctoribus umbrae,
+  Non tacitas Erebi sedes, Ditisque profundi,
+  Pallida regna petunt: _regit idem spiritus artus
+  Orbe alio_: longae, canitis si cognita, vitae
+  Mors media est.
+
+The passage certainly seems to me to imply a different conception from
+the ordinary classical views of the life after death, the dark and
+dismal plains of Erebus peopled with ghosts; and the passage I have
+italicised would chime in well with the conception of a continuance of
+youth (_idem spiritus_) in Tir-nan-Og (_orbe alio_).
+
+One of the most pathetic, beautiful, and typical scenes in Irish legend
+is the return of Ossian from Tir-nan-Og, and his interview with St.
+Patrick. The old faith and the new, the old order of things and that
+which replaced it, meet in two of the most characteristic products of
+the Irish imagination (for the Patrick of legend is as much a legendary
+figure as Oisin himself). Ossian had gone away to Tir-nan-Og with the
+fairy Niamh under very much the same circumstances as Condla Ruad; time
+flies in the land of eternal youth, and when Ossian returns, after a
+year as he thinks, more than three centuries had passed, and St.
+Patrick had just succeeded in introducing the new faith. The contrast
+of Past and Present has never been more vividly or beautifully
+represented.
+
+
+
+
+II. GULEESH.
+
+_Source_.--From Dr. Douglas Hyde's _Beside the Fire_, 104-28, where it
+is a translation from the same author's _Leabhar Sgeulaighteachta_. Dr
+Hyde got it from one Shamus O'Hart, a gamekeeper of Frenchpark. One is
+curious to know how far the very beautiful landscapes in the story are
+due to Dr. Hyde, who confesses to have only taken notes. I have omitted
+a journey to Rome, paralleled, as Mr. Nutt has pointed out, by the
+similar one of Michael Scott (_Waifs and Strays_, i. 46), and not
+bearing on the main lines of the story. I have also dropped a part of
+Guleesh's name: in the original he is "Guleesh na guss dhu," Guleesh of
+the black feet, because he never washed them; nothing turns on this in
+the present form of the story, but one cannot but suspect it was of
+importance in the original form.
+
+_Parallels_.--Dr. Hyde refers to two short stories, "Midnight Ride" (to
+Rome) and "Stolen Bride," in Lady Wilde's _Ancient Legends_. But the
+closest parallel is given by Miss Maclintock's Donegal tale of "Jamie
+Freel and the Young Lady," reprinted in Mr. Yeats' _Irish Folk and
+Fairy Tales_, 52-9. In the _Hibernian Tales_, "Mann o' Malaghan and the
+Fairies," as reported by Thackeray in the _Irish Sketch-Book_, c. xvi.,
+begins like "Guleesh."
+
+
+
+
+III. FIELD OF BOLIAUNS.
+
+_Source_.--T. Crofton Croker's _Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland_,
+ed. Wright, pp. 135-9. In the original the gnome is a Cluricaune, but
+as a friend of Mr. Batten's has recently heard the tale told of a
+Lepracaun, I have adopted the better known title.
+
+_Remarks_.--_Lepracaun_ is from the Irish _leith bhrogan_, the
+one-shoemaker (_cf_. brogue), according to Dr. Hyde. He is generally
+seen (and to this day, too) working at a single shoe, _cf._ Croker's
+story "Little Shoe," _l.c._ pp. 142-4. According to a writer in the
+_Revue Celtique_, i. 256, the true etymology is _luchor pan_, "little
+man." Dr. Joyce also gives the same etymology in _Irish Names and
+Places_, i. 183, where he mentions several places named after them.
+
+
+
+
+IV. HORNED WOMEN.
+
+_Source_.--Lady Wilde's _Ancient Legends_, the first story.
+
+_Parallels_.--A similar version was given by Mr. D. Fitzgerald in the
+_Revue Celtique_, iv. 181, but without the significant and impressive
+horns. He refers to _Cornhill_ for February 1877, and to Campbell's
+"Sauntraigh" No. xxii. _Pop. Tales_, ii. 52 4, in which a "woman of
+peace" (a fairy) borrows a woman's kettle and returns it with flesh in
+it, but at last the woman refuses, and is persecuted by the fairy. I
+fail to see much analogy. A much closer one is in Campbell, ii. p. 63,
+where fairies are got rid of by shouting "Dunveilg is on fire." The
+familiar "lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, your house is on fire
+and your children at home," will occur to English minds. Another
+version in Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions_, p. 164, "Black Stairs on
+Fire."
+
+_Remarks_.--Slievenamon is a famous fairy palace in Tipperary according
+to Dr. Joyce, _l.c._ i. 178. It was the hill on which Finn stood when
+he gave himself as the prize to the Irish maiden who should run up it
+quickest. Grainne won him with dire consequences, as all the world
+knows or ought to know (Kennedy, _Legend Fict._, 222, "How Fion
+selected a Wife").
+
+
+
+
+V. CONAL YELLOWCLAW.
+
+_Source_.--Campbell, _Pop. Tales of West Highlands_, No. v. pp. 105-8,
+"Conall Cra Bhuidhe." I have softened the third episode, which is
+somewhat too ghastly in the original. I have translated "Cra Bhuide"
+Yellowclaw on the strength of Campbell's etymology, _l.c._ p. 158.
+
+_Parallels_.--Campbell's vi. and vii. are two variants showing how
+widespread the story is in Gaelic Scotland. It occurs in Ireland where
+it has been printed in the chapbook, _Hibernian Tales_, as the "Black
+Thief and the Knight of the Glen," the Black Thief being Conall, and
+the knight corresponding to the King of Lochlan (it is given in Mr.
+Lang's _Red Fairy Book_). Here it attracted the notice of Thackeray,
+who gives a good abstract of it in his _Irish Sketch-Book_, ch. xvi. He
+thinks it "worthy of the Arabian Nights, as wild and odd as an Eastern
+tale." "That fantastical way of bearing testimony to the previous tale
+by producing an old woman who says the tale is not only true, but who
+was the very old woman who lived in the giant's castle is almost" (why
+"almost," Mr. Thackeray?) "a stroke of genius." The incident of the
+giant's breath occurs in the story of Koisha Kayn, MacInnes' _Tales_,
+i. 241, as well as the Polyphemus one, _ibid._ 265. One-eyed giants are
+frequent in Celtic folk-tales (_e.g._ in _The Pursuit of Diarmaid_ and
+in the _Mabinogi_ of Owen).
+
+_Remarks._--Thackeray's reference to the "Arabian Nights" is especially
+apt, as the tale of Conall is a framework story like _The 1001 Nights_,
+the three stories told by Conall being framed, as it were, in a fourth
+which is nominally the real story. This method employed by the Indian
+story-tellers and from them adopted by Boccaccio and thence into all
+European literatures (Chaucer, Queen Margaret, &c.), is generally
+thought to be peculiar to the East, and to be ultimately derived from
+the Jatakas or Birth Stories of the Buddha who tells his adventures in
+former incarnations. Here we find it in Celtdom, and it occurs also in
+"The Story-teller at Fault" in this collection, and the story of
+_Koisha Kayn_ in MacInnes' _Argyllshire Tales_, a variant of which,
+collected but not published by Campbell, has no less than nineteen
+tales enclosed in a framework. The question is whether the method was
+adopted independently in Ireland, or was due to foreign influences.
+Confining ourselves to "Conal Yellowclaw," it seems not unlikely that
+the whole story is an importation. For the second episode is clearly
+the story of Polyphemus from the Odyssey which was known in Ireland
+perhaps as early as the tenth century (see Prof. K. Meyer's edition of
+_Merugud Uilix maic Leirtis_, Pref. p. xii). It also crept into the
+voyages of Sindbad in the _Arabian Nights_. And as told in the
+Highlands it bears comparison even with the Homeric version. As Mr.
+Nutt remarks (_Celt. Mag._ xii.) the address of the giant to the buck
+is as effective as that of Polyphemus to his ram. The narrator, James
+Wilson, was a blind man who would naturally feel the pathos of the
+address; "it comes from the heart of the narrator;" says Campbell
+(_l.c._, 148), "it is the ornament which his mind hangs on the frame of
+the story."
+
+
+
+
+VI. HUDDEN AND DUDDEN.
+
+_Source._--From oral tradition, by the late D. W. Logie, taken down by
+Mr. Alfred Nutt.
+
+_Parallels._--Lover has a tale, "Little Fairly," obviously derived from
+this folk-tale; and there is another very similar, "Darby Darly."
+Another version of our tale is given under the title "Donald and his
+Neighbours," in the chapbook _Hibernian Tales_, whence it was reprinted
+by Thackeray in his _Irish Sketch-Book_, c. xvi. This has the incident
+of the "accidental matricide," on which see Prof. R. Koehler on
+Gonzenbach _Sicil. Maehrchen_, ii. 224. No less than four tales of
+Campbell are of this type (_Pop. Tales_, ii. 218-31). M. Cosquin, in
+his "Contes populaires de Lorraine," the storehouse of "storiology,"
+has elaborate excursuses in this class of tales attached to his Nos. x.
+and xx. Mr. Clouston discusses it also in his _Pop. Tales_, ii. 229-88.
+Both these writers are inclined to trace the chief incidents to India.
+It is to be observed that one of the earliest popular drolls in Europe,
+_Unibos_, a Latin poem of the eleventh, and perhaps the tenth, century,
+has the main outlines of the story, the fraudulent sale of worthless
+objects and the escape from the sack trick. The same story occurs in
+Straparola, the European earliest collection of folk-tales in the
+sixteenth century. On the other hand, the gold sticking to the scales
+is familiar to us in _Ali Baba_. (_Cf._ Cosquin, _l.c._, i. 225-6, 229).
+
+_Remarks_.--It is indeed curious to find, as M. Cosquin points out, a
+cunning fellow tied in a sack getting out by crying, "I won't marry the
+princess," in countries so far apart as Ireland, Sicily (Gonzenbach,
+No. 71), Afghanistan (Thorburn, _Bannu_, p. 184), and Jamaica
+(_Folk-Lore Record_, iii. 53). It is indeed impossible to think these
+are disconnected, and for drolls of this kind a good case has been made
+out for the borrowing hypotheses by M. Cosquin and Mr. Clouston. Who
+borrowed from whom is another and more difficult question which has to
+be judged on its merits in each individual case.
+
+This is a type of Celtic folk-tales which are European in spread, have
+analogies with the East, and can only be said to be Celtic by adoption
+and by colouring. They form a distinct section of the tales told by the
+Celts, and must be represented in any characteristic selection. Other
+examples are xi., xv., xx., and perhaps xxii.
+
+
+
+
+VII. SHEPHERD OF MYDDVAI.
+
+_Source_.--Preface to the edition of "The Physicians of Myddvai"; their
+prescription-book, from the Red Book of Hergest, published by the Welsh
+MS. Society in 1861. The legend is not given in the Red Book, but from
+oral tradition by Mr. W. Rees, p. xxi. As this is the first of the
+Welsh tales in this book it may be as well to give the reader such
+guidance as I can afford him on the intricacies of Welsh pronunciation,
+especially with regard to the mysterious _w_'s and _y_'s of Welsh
+orthography. For _w_ substitute double _o_, as in "_fool_," and for
+_y_, the short _u_ in b_u_t, and as near approach to Cymric speech will
+be reached as is possible for the outlander. It maybe added that double
+_d_ equals _th_, and double _l_ is something like _Fl_, as Shakespeare
+knew in calling his Welsh soldier Fluellen (Llewelyn). Thus "Meddygon
+Myddvai" would be _Anglice_ "Methugon Muthvai."
+
+_Parallels._--Other versions of the legend of the Van Pool are given in
+_Cambro-Briton_, ii. 315; W. Sikes, _British Goblins_, p. 40. Mr. E.
+Sidney Hartland has discussed these and others in a set of papers
+contributed to the first volume of _The Archaeological Review_ (now
+incorporated into _Folk-Lore_), the substance of which is now given in
+his _Science of Fairy Tales_, 274-332. (See also the references given
+in _Revue Celtique_, iv., 187 and 268). Mr. Hartland gives there an
+ecumenical collection of parallels to the several incidents that go to
+make up our story--(1) The bride-capture of the Swan-Maiden, (2) the
+recognition of the bride, (3) the taboo against causeless blows, (4)
+doomed to be broken, and (5) disappearance of the Swan-Maiden, with (6)
+her return as Guardian Spirit to her descendants. In each case Mr.
+Hartland gives what he considers to be the most primitive form of the
+incident. With reference to our present tale, he comes to the
+conclusion, if I understand him aright, that the lake-maiden was once
+regarded as a local divinity. The physicians of Myddvai were historic
+personages, renowned for their medical skill for some six centuries,
+till the race died out with John Jones, _fl._ 1743. To explain their
+skill and uncanny knowledge of herbs, the folk traced them to a
+supernatural ancestress, who taught them their craft in a place still
+called Pant-y-Meddygon ("Doctors' Dingle"). Their medical knowledge did
+not require any such remarkable origin, as Mr. Hartland has shown in a
+paper "On Welsh Folk-Medicine," contributed to _Y Cymmrodor_, vol. xii.
+On the other hand, the Swan-Maiden type of story is widespread through
+the Old World. Mr. Morris' "Land East of the Moon and West of the Sun,"
+in _The Earthly Paradise_, is taken from the Norse version. Parallels
+are accumulated by the Grimms, ii. 432; Koehler on Gonzenbach, ii. 20;
+or Blade, 149; Stokes' _Indian Fairy Tales_, 243, 276; and Messrs.
+Jones and Koopf, _Magyar Folk-Tales_, 362-5. It remains to be proved
+that one of these versions did not travel to Wales, and become there
+localised. We shall see other instances of such localisation or
+specialisation of general legends.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. THE SPRIGHTLY TAILOR.
+
+_Source._--_Notes and Queries_ for December 21, 1861; to which it was
+communicated by "Cuthbert Bede," the author of _Verdant Green_, who
+collected it in Cantyre.
+
+_Parallels_.--Miss Dempster gives the same story in her Sutherland
+Collection, No. vii. (referred to by Campbell in his Gaelic list, at
+end of vol. iv.); Mrs. John Faed, I am informed by a friend, knows the
+Gaelic version, as told by her nurse in her youth. Chambers' "Strange
+Visitor," _Pop. Rhymes of Scotland_, 64, of which I gave an Anglicised
+version in my _English Fairy Tales_, No. xxxii., is clearly a variant.
+
+_Remarks_.--The Macdonald of Saddell Castle was a very great man
+indeed. Once, when dining with the Lord-Lieutenant, an apology was made
+to him for placing him so far away from the head of the table. "Where
+the Macdonald sits," was the proud response, "there is the head of the
+table."
+
+
+
+
+IX. DEIRDRE.
+
+_Source_.--_Celtic Magazine_, xiii. pp. 69, _seq_. I have abridged
+somewhat, made the sons of Fergus all faithful instead of two traitors,
+and omitted an incident in the house of the wild men called here
+"strangers." The original Gaelic was given in the _Transactions of the
+Inverness Gaelic Society_ for 1887, p. 241, _seq._, by Mr. Carmichael.
+I have inserted Deirdre's "Lament" from the _Book of Leinster_.
+
+_Parallels_.--This is one of the three most sorrowful Tales of Erin,
+(the other two, _Children of Lir_ and _Children of Tureen_, are given
+in Dr. Joyce's _Old Celtic Romances_), and is a specimen of the old
+heroic sagas of elopement, a list of which is given in the _Book of
+Leinster_. The "outcast child" is a frequent episode in folk and
+hero-tales: an instance occurs in my _English Fairy Tales_, No. xxxv.,
+and Prof. Koehler gives many others in _Archiv. f. Slav. Philologie_, i.
+288. Mr. Nutt adds tenth century Celtic parallels in _Folk-Lore_, vol.
+ii. The wooing of hero by heroine is a characteristic Celtic touch. See
+"Connla" here, and other examples given by Mr. Nutt in his notes to
+MacInnes' _Tales_. The trees growing from the lovers' graves occurs in
+the English ballad of _Lord Lovel_ and has been studied in _Melusine_.
+
+_Remarks_.--The "Story of Deirdre" is a remarkable instance of the
+tenacity of oral tradition among the Celts. It has been preserved in no
+less than five versions (or six, including Macpherson's "Darthula")
+ranging from the twelfth to the nineteenth century. The earliest is in
+the twelfth century, _Book of Leinster_, to be dated about 1140 (edited
+in facsimile under the auspices of the Royal Irish Academy, i. 147,
+_seq._). Then comes a fifteenth century version, edited and translated
+by Dr. Stokes in Windisch's _Irische Texte_ II., ii. 109, _seq._,
+"Death of the Sons of Uisnech." Keating in his _History of Ireland_
+gave another version in the seventeenth century. The Dublin Gaelic
+Society published an eighteenth century version in their _Transactions_
+for 1808. And lastly we have the version before us, collected only a
+few years ago, yet agreeing in all essential details with the version
+of the _Book of Leinster_. Such a record is unique in the history of
+oral tradition, outside Ireland, where, however, it is quite a
+customary experience in the study of the Finn-saga. It is now
+recognised that Macpherson had, or could have had, ample material for
+his _rechauffe_ of the Finn or "Fingal" saga. His "Darthula" is a
+similar cobbling of our present story. I leave to Celtic specialists
+the task of settling the exact relations of these various texts. I
+content myself with pointing out the fact that in these latter days of
+a seemingly prosaic century in these British Isles there has been
+collected from the lips of the folk a heroic story like this of
+"Deirdre," full of romantic incidents, told with tender feeling and
+considerable literary skill. No other country in Europe, except perhaps
+Russia, could provide a parallel to this living on of Romance among the
+common folk. Surely it is a bounden duty of those who are in the
+position to put on record any such utterances of the folk-imagination
+of the Celts before it is too late.
+
+
+
+
+X. MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR.
+
+_Source_.--I have combined the Irish version given by Dr. Hyde in his
+_Leabhar Sgeul._, and translated by him for Mr. Yeats' _Irish Folk and
+Fairy Tales_, and the Scotch version given in Gaelic and English by
+Campbell, No. viii.
+
+_Parallels_.--Two English versions are given in my _Eng. Fairy Tales_,
+No. iv., "The Old Woman and her Pig," and xxxiv., "The Cat and the
+Mouse," where see notes for other variants in these isles.  M. Cosquin,
+in his notes to No. xxxiv., of his _Contes de Lorraine_, t. ii. pp.
+35-41, has drawn attention to an astonishing number of parallels
+scattered through all Europe and the East (_cf._, too, Crane, _Ital.
+Pop. Tales_, notes, 372-5). One of the earliest allusions to the jingle
+is in _Don Quixote_, pt. 1, c. xvi.: "Y asi como suele decirse _el gato
+al rato, et rato a la cuerda, la cuerda al palo_, daba el arriero a
+Sancho, Sancho a la moza, la moza a el, el ventero a la moza." As I
+have pointed out, it is used to this day by Bengali women at the end of
+each folk-tale they recite (L. B. Day, _Folk-Tales of Bengal_, Pref.).
+
+_Remarks_.--Two ingenious suggestions have been made as to the origin
+of this curious jingle, both connecting it with religious ceremonies:
+(1) Something very similar occurs in Chaldaic at the end of the Jewish
+_Hagada_, or domestic ritual for the Passover night. It has, however,
+been shown that this does not occur in early MSS. or editions, and was
+only added at the end to amuse the children after the service, and was
+therefore only a translation or adaptation of a current German form of
+the jingle; (2) M. Basset, in the _Revue des Traditions populaires_,
+1890, t. v. p. 549, has suggested that it is a survival of the old
+Greek custom at the sacrifice of the Bouphonia for the priest to
+contend that _he_ had not slain the sacred beast, the axe declares that
+the handle did it, the handle transfers the guilt further, and so on.
+This is ingenious, but fails to give any reasonable account of the
+diffusion of the jingle in countries which have had no historic
+connection with classical Greece.
+
+
+
+
+XI. GOLD TREE AND SILVER TREE.
+
+_Source_.--_Celtic Magazine_, xiii. 213-8, Gaelic and English from Mr.
+Kenneth Macleod.
+
+_Parallels_.--Mr. Macleod heard another version in which "Gold Tree"
+(anonymous in this variant) is bewitched to kill her father's horse,
+dog, and cock. Abroad it is the Grimm's _Schneewittchen_ (No. 53), for
+the Continental variants of which see Koehler on Gonzenbach, _Sicil.
+Maehrchen_, Nos. 2-4, Grimm's notes on 53, and Crane, _Ital. Pop.
+Tales_, 331. No other version is known in the British Isles.
+
+_Remarks_.--It is unlikely, I should say impossible, that this tale,
+with the incident of the dormant heroine, should have arisen
+independently in the Highlands; it is most likely an importation from
+abroad. Yet in it occurs a most "primitive" incident, the bigamous
+household of the hero; this is glossed over in Mr. Macleod's other
+variant. On the "survival" method of investigation this would possibly
+be used as evidence for polygamy in the Highlands. Yet if, as is
+probable, the story came from abroad, this trait may have come with it,
+and only implies polygamy in the original home of the tale.
+
+
+
+
+XII. KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE.
+
+_Source_.--S. Lover's _Stories and Legends of the Irish Peasantry_.
+
+_Remarks_.--This is really a moral apologue on the benefits of keeping
+your word. Yet it is told with such humour and vigour, that the moral
+glides insensibly into the heart.
+
+
+
+
+XIII. THE WOOING OF OLWEN.
+
+_Source_.--The _Mabinogi_ of Kulhwych and Olwen from the translation of
+Lady Guest, abridged.
+
+_Parallels_.--Prof. Rhys, _Hibbert Lectures_, p. 486, considers that
+our tale is paralleled by Cuchulain's "Wooing of Emer," a translation
+of which by Prof. K. Meyer appeared in the _Archaeological Review_,
+vol. i. I fail to see much analogy. On the other hand in his _Arthurian
+Legend_, p. 41, he rightly compares the tasks set by Yspythadon to
+those set to Jason. They are indeed of the familiar type of the Bride
+Wager (on which see Grimm-Hunt, i. 399). The incident of the three
+animals, old, older, and oldest, has a remarkable resemblance to the
+_Tettira Jataka_ (ed. Fausboell, No. 37, transl. Rhys Davids, i. p. 310
+_seq._) in which the partridge, monkey, and elephant dispute as to
+their relative age, and the partridge turns out to have voided the seed
+of the Banyan-tree under which they were sheltered, whereas the
+elephant only knew it when a mere bush, and the monkey had nibbled the
+topmost shoots. This apologue got to England at the end of the twelfth
+century as the sixty-ninth fable, "Wolf, Fox, and Dove," of a rhymed
+prose collection of "Fox Fables" (_Mishle Shu'alim_), of an Oxford Jew,
+Berachyah Nakdan, known in the Records as "Benedict le Puncteur" (see
+my _Fables Of Aesop_, i. p. 170). Similar incidents occur in "Jack and
+his Snuff-box" in my _English Fairy Tales_, and in Dr. Hyde's "Well of
+D'Yerree-in-Dowan." The skilled companions of Kulhwych are common in
+European folk-tales (_Cf._ Cosquin, i. 123-5), and especially among the
+Celts (see Mr. Nutt's note in MacInnes' _Tales_, 445-8), among whom
+they occur very early, but not so early as Lynceus and the other
+skilled comrades of the Argonauts.
+
+_Remarks_.--The hunting of the boar Trwyth can be traced back in Welsh
+tradition at least as early as the ninth century. For it is referred to
+in the following passage of Nennius' _Historia Britonum_ ed. Stevenson,
+p: 60, "Est aliud miraculum in regione quae dicitur Buelt [Builth, co.
+Brecon] Est ibi cumulus lapidum et unus lapis super-positus super
+congestum cum vestigia canis in eo. Quando venatus est porcum Troynt
+[_var. lec._ Troit] impressit Cabal, qui erat canis Arthuri militis,
+vestigium in lapide et Arthur postea congregavit congestum lapidum sub
+lapide in quo erat vestigium canis sui et vocatur Carn Cabal."
+Curiously enough there is still a mountain called Carn Cabal in the
+district of Builth, south of Rhayader Gwy in Breconshire. Still more
+curiously a friend of Lady Guest's found on this a cairn with a stone
+two feet long by one foot wide in which there was an indentation 4 in.
+x 3 in. x 2 in. which could easily have been mistaken for a paw-print
+of a dog, as maybe seen from the engraving given of it (Mabinogion, ed.
+1874, p. 269).
+
+The stone and the legend are thus at least one thousand years old.
+"There stands the stone to tell if I lie." According to Prof. Rhys
+(_Hibbert Lect._ 486-97) the whole story is a mythological one,
+Kulhwych's mother being the dawn, the clover blossoms that grow under
+Olwen's feet being comparable to the roses that sprung up where
+Aphrodite had trod, and Yspyddadon being the incarnation of the sacred
+hawthorn. Mabon, again (_i.e._ pp. 21, 28-9), is the Apollo Maponus
+discovered in Latin inscriptions at Ainstable in Cumberland and
+elsewhere (Huebner, _Corp. Insc. Lat. Brit._ Nos. 218, 332, 1345).
+Granting all this, there is nothing to show any mythological
+significance in the tale, though there may have been in the names of
+the _dramatis personae_. I observe from the proceedings of the recent
+Eisteddfod that the bardic name of Mr. W. Abraham, M.P., is 'Mabon.' It
+scarcely follows that Mr. Abraham is in receipt of divine honours
+nowadays.
+
+
+
+
+XIV. JACK AND HIS COMRADES.
+
+_Source_.--Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts_.
+
+_Parallels_.--This is the fullest and most dramatic version I know of
+the Grimm's "Town Musicians of Bremen" (No. 27). I have given an
+English (American) version in my _English Fairy Tales_, No. 5, in the
+notes to which would be found references to other versions known in the
+British Isles (_e.g._, Campbell, No. 11) and abroad. _Cf._ remarks on
+No. vi.
+
+
+
+
+XV. SHEE AN GANNON AND GRUAGACH GAIRE.
+
+_Source._--Curtin, _Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland_, p. 114 _seq._ I
+have shortened the earlier part of the tale, and introduced into the
+latter a few touches from Campbell's story of "Fionn's Enchantment," in
+_Revue Celtique_, t. i., 193 _seq._
+
+_Parallels_.--The early part is similar to the beginning of "The
+Sea-Maiden" (No. xvii., which see). The latter part is practically the
+same as the story of "Fionn's Enchantment," just referred to. It also
+occurs in MacInnes' _Tales_, No. iii., "The King of Albainn" (see Mr.
+Nutt's notes, 454). The head-crowned spikes are Celtic, _cf._ Mr.
+Nutt's notes (MacInnes' _Tales_, 453).
+
+_Remarks_.--Here again we meet the question whether the folk-tale
+precedes the hero-tale about Finn or was derived from it, and again the
+probability seems that our story has the priority as a folk-tale, and
+was afterwards applied to the national hero, Finn. This is confirmed by
+the fact that a thirteenth century French romance, _Conte du Graal_,
+has much the same incidents, and was probably derived from a similar
+folk-tale of the Celts. Indeed, Mr. Nutt is inclined to think that the
+original form of our story (which contains a mysterious healing vessel)
+is the germ out of which the legend of the Holy Grail was evolved (see
+his _Studies in the Holy Grail_, p. 202 _seq._).
+
+
+
+
+XVI. THE STORY-TELLER AT FAULT.
+
+_Source_.--Griffin's _Tales from a Jury-Room_, combined with Campbell,
+No. xvii. _c_, "The Slim Swarthy Champion."
+
+_Parallels_.--Campbell gives another variant, _l.c._ i. 318. Dr. Hyde
+has an Irish version of Campbell's tale written down in 1762, from
+which he gives the incident of the air-ladder (which I have had to
+euphemise in my version) in his _Beside the Fireside_, p. 191, and
+other passages in his Preface. The most remarkable parallel to this
+incident, however, is afforded by the feats of Indian jugglers reported
+briefly by Marco Polo, and illustrated with his usual wealth of
+learning by the late Sir Henry Yule, in his edition, vol. i. p. 308
+_seq._ The accompanying illustration (reduced from Yule) will tell its
+own tale: it is taken from the Dutch account of the travels of an
+English sailor, E. Melton, _Zeldzaame Reizen_, 1702, p. 468. It tells
+the tale in five acts, all included in one sketch. Another instance
+quoted by Yule is still more parallel, so to speak. The twenty-third
+trick performed by some conjurors before the Emperor Jahangueir
+(_Memoirs_, p. 102) is thus described: "They produced a chain of 50
+cubits in length, and in my presence threw one end of it towards the
+sky, where it remained as if fastened to something in the air. A dog
+was then brought forward, and being placed at the lower end of the
+chain, immediately ran up, and, reaching the other end, immediately
+disappeared in the air. In the same manner a hog, a panther, a lion,
+and a tiger were successively sent up the chain." It has been suggested
+that the conjurors hypnotise the spectators, and make them believe they
+see these things. This is practically the suggestion of a wise
+Mohammedan, who is quoted by Yule as saying, "_Wallah!_ 'tis my opinion
+there has been neither going up nor coming down; 'tis all hocus-pocus,"
+hocus-pocus being presumably the Mohammedan term for hypnotism.
+
+_Remarks_.--Dr. Hyde (_l.c._ Pref. xxix.) thinks our tale cannot be
+older than 1362, because of a reference to one O'Connor Sligo which
+occurs in all its variants; it is, however, omitted in our somewhat
+abridged version. Mr Nutt (_ap._ Campbell, _The Fians_, Introd. xix.)
+thinks that this does not prevent a still earlier version having
+existed. I should have thought that the existence of so distinctly
+Eastern a trick in the tale, and the fact that it is a framework story
+(another Eastern characteristic), would imply that it is a rather late
+importation, with local allusions superadded (_cf._ notes on "Conal
+Yellowclaw," No v.)
+
+The passages in verse from pp 137, 139, and the description of the
+Beggarman, pp. 136, 140, are instances of a curious characteristic of
+Gaelic folk-tales called "runs." Collections of conventional epithets
+are used over and over again to describe the same incident, the
+beaching of a boat, sea-faring, travelling and the like, and are
+inserted in different tales. These "runs" are often similar in both the
+Irish and the Scotch form of the same tale or of the same incident. The
+volumes of _Waifs and Strays_ contain numerous examples of these
+"runs," which have been indexed in each volume. These "runs" are
+another confirmation of my view that the original form of the folk-tale
+was that of the _Cante-fable_ (see note on "Connla" and on "Childe
+Rowland" in _English Fairy Tales_).
+
+
+
+
+XVII. SEA-MAIDEN.
+
+_Source_.--Campbell, _Pop. Tales_, No. 4. I have omitted the births of
+the animal comrades and transposed the carlin to the middle of the
+tale. Mr. Batten has considerately idealised the Sea-Maiden in his
+frontispiece. When she restores the husband to the wife in one of the
+variants, she brings him out of her mouth! "So the sea-maiden put up
+his head (_Who do you mean? Out of her mouth to be sure. She had
+swallowed him_)."
+
+_Parallels_.--The early part of the story occurs in No. xv., "Shee an
+Gannon," and the last part in No. xix., "Fair, Brown, and Trembling"
+(both from Curtin), Campbell's No. 1. "The Young King" is much like it;
+also MacInnes' No. iv., "Herding of Cruachan" and No. viii., "Lod the
+Farmer's Son." The third of Mr. Britten's Irish folk-tales in the
+_Folk-Lore Journal_ is a Sea-Maiden story. The story is obviously a
+favourite one among the Celts. Yet its main incidents occur with
+frequency in Continental folk-tales. Prof. Koehler has collected a
+number in his notes on Campbell's Tales in _Orient und Occident_, Bnd.
+ii. 115-8. The trial of the sword occurs in the saga of Sigurd, yet it
+is also frequent in Celtic saga and folk-tales (see Mr. Nutt's note,
+MacInnes' _Tales_, 473, and add. Curtin, 320). The hideous carlin and
+her three giant sons is also a common form in Celtic. The external soul
+of the Sea-Maiden carried about in an egg, in a trout, in a hoodie, in
+a hind, is a remarkable instance of a peculiarly savage conception
+which has been studied by Major Temple, _Wide-awake Stories_, 404-5; by
+Mr. E. Clodd, in the "Philosophy of Punchkin," in _Folk-Lore Journal_,
+vol. ii., and by Mr. Frazer in his _Golden Bough_, vol. ii.
+
+_Remarks_.--As both Prof. Rhys (_Hibbert Lect._, 464) and Mr. Nutt
+(MacInnes' _Tales_, 477) have pointed out, practically the same story
+(that of Perseus and Andromeda) is told of the Ultonian hero,
+Cuchulain, in the _Wooing of Emer_, a tale which occurs in the Book of
+Leinster, a MS. of the twelfth century, and was probably copied from
+one of the eighth. Unfortunately it is not complete, and the Sea-Maiden
+incident is only to be found in a British Museum MS. of about 1300. In
+this Cuchulain finds that the daughter of Ruad is to be given as a
+tribute to the Fomori, who, according to Prof. Rhys, _Folk-Lore_, ii.
+293, have something of the night_mare_ about their etymology. Cuchulain
+fights _three_ of them successively, has his wounds bound up by a strip
+of the maiden's garment, and then departs. Thereafter many boasted of
+having slain the Fomori, but the maiden believed them not till at last
+by a stratagem she recognises Cuchulain. I may add to this that in Mr.
+Curtin's _Myths_, 330, the threefold trial of the sword is told of
+Cuchulain. This would seem to trace our story back to the seventh or
+eighth century and certainly to the thirteenth. If so, it is likely
+enough that it spread from Ireland through Europe with the Irish
+missions (for the wide extent of which see map in Mrs. Bryant's _Celtic
+Ireland_). The very letters that have spread through all Europe except
+Russia, are to be traced to the script of these Irish monks: why not
+certain folk-tales? There is a further question whether the story was
+originally told of Cuchulain as a hero-tale and then became
+departicularised as a folk-tale, or was the process _vice versa_.
+Certainly in the form in which it appears in the _Tochmarc Emer_ it is
+not complete, so that here, as elsewhere, we seem to have an instance
+of a folk-tale applied to a well-known heroic name, and becoming a
+hero-tale or saga.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII. LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY.
+
+_Source_.--W. Carleton, _Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry_.
+
+_Parallels_.--Kennedy's "Fion MacCuil and the Scotch Giant," _Legend.
+Fict._, 203-5.
+
+_Remarks_.--Though the venerable names of Finn and Cucullin (Cuchulain)
+are attached to the heroes of this story, this is probably only to give
+an extrinsic interest to it. The two heroes could not have come
+together in any early form of their sagas, since Cuchulain's reputed
+date is of the first, Finn's of the third century A.D. (_cf._ however,
+MacDougall's _Tales_, notes, 272). Besides, the grotesque form of the
+legend is enough to remove it from the region of the hero-tale. On the
+other hand, there is a distinct reference to Finn's wisdom-tooth, which
+presaged the future to him (on this see _Revue Celtique_, v. 201,
+Joyce, _Old Celt. Rom._, 434-5, and MacDougall, _l.c._ 274). Cucullin's
+power-finger is another instance of the life-index or external soul, on
+which see remarks on Sea-Maiden. Mr. Nutt informs me that parodies of
+the Irish sagas occur as early as the sixteenth century, and the
+present tale may be regarded as a specimen.
+
+
+
+
+XIX. FAIR, BROWN, AND TREMBLING.
+
+_Source_.--Curtin, _Myths, &c., of Ireland, 78 seq._
+
+_Parallels_.--The latter half resembles the second part of the
+Sea-Maiden (No. xvii.), which see. The earlier portion is a Cinderella
+tale (on which see the late Mr. Ralston's article in _Nineteenth
+Century_, Nov. 1879, and Mr. Lang's treatment in his Perrault). Miss
+Roalfe Cox is about to publish for the Folk-Lore Society a whole volume
+of variants of the Cinderella group of stories, which are remarkably
+well represented in these isles, nearly a dozen different versions
+being known in England, Ireland, and Scotland.
+
+
+
+
+XX. JACK AND HIS MASTER.
+
+_Source_.--Kennedy, _Fireside Stories of Ireland_, 74-80, "Shan an
+Omadhan and his Master."
+
+_Parallels_.--It occurs also in Campbell, No. xlv., "Mac a Rusgaich."
+It is a European droll, the wide occurrence of which--"the loss of
+temper bet" I should call it--is bibliographised by M. Cosquin, _l.c._
+ii. 50 (_cf._ notes on No. vi.).
+
+
+
+
+XXI. BETH GELLERT.
+
+_Source_.--I have paraphrased the well-known poem of Hon. W. R.
+Spencer, "Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound," first printed
+privately as a broadsheet in 1800 when it was composed ("August 11,
+1800, Dolymalynllyn" is the colophon). It was published in Spencer's
+_Poems_, 1811, pp. 78-86. These dates, it will be seen, are of
+importance. Spencer states in a note: "The story of this ballad is
+traditionary in a village at the foot of Snowdon where Llewellyn the
+Great had a house. The Greyhound named Gelert was given him by his
+father-in-law, King John, in the year 1205, and the place to this day
+is called Beth-Gelert, or the grave of Gelert." As a matter of fact, no
+trace of the tradition in connection with Bedd Gellert can be found
+before Spencer's time. It is not mentioned in Leland's _Itinerary_, ed.
+Hearne, v. p. 37 ("Beth Kellarth"), in Pennant's _Tour_ (1770), ii.
+176, or in Bingley's _Tour in Wales_ (1800). Borrow in his _Wild
+Wales_, p. 146, gives the legend, but does not profess to derive it
+from local tradition.
+
+_Parallels_.--The only parallel in Celtdom is that noticed by Croker in
+his third volume, the legend of Partholan who killed his wife's
+greyhound from jealousy: this is found sculptured in stone at Ap Brune,
+co. Limerick. As is well known, and has been elaborately discussed by
+Mr. Baring-Gould (_Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_, p. 134 _seq._),
+and Mr. W. A. Clouston (_Popular Tales and Fictions_, ii. 166, _seq._),
+the story of the man who rashly slew the dog (ichneumon, weasel, &c.)
+that had saved his babe from death, is one of those which have spread
+from East to West. It is indeed, as Mr. Clouston points out, still
+current in India, the land of its birth. There is little doubt that it
+is originally Buddhistic: the late Prof. S. Beal gave the earliest
+known version from the Chinese translation of the _Vinaya Pitaka_ in
+the _Academy_ of Nov. 4, 1882. The conception of an animal sacrificing
+itself for the sake of others is peculiarly Buddhistic; the "hare in
+the moon" is an apotheosis of such a piece of self-sacrifice on the
+part of Buddha (_Sasa Jataka_). There are two forms that have reached
+the West, the first being that of an animal saving men at the cost of
+its own life. I pointed out an early instance of this, quoted by a
+Rabbi of the second century, in my _Fables of Aesop_, i. 105. This
+concludes with a strangely close parallel to Gellert; "They raised a
+cairn over his grave, and the place is still called The Dog's Grave."
+The _Culex_ attributed to Virgil seems to be another variant of this.
+The second form of the legend is always told as a moral apologue
+against precipitate action, and originally occurred in _The Fables of
+Bidpai_ in its hundred and one forms, all founded on Buddhistic
+originals (_cf._ Benfey, _Pantschatantra_, Einleitung, Sec.201).
+[Footnote: It occurs in the same chapter as the story of La Perrette,
+which has been traced, after Benfey, by Prof. M. Mueller in his
+"Migration of Fables" (_Sel. Essays_, i. 500-74): exactly the same
+history applies to Gellert.] Thence, according to Benfey, it was
+inserted in the _Book of Sindibad_, another collection of Oriental
+Apologues framed on what may be called the Mrs. Potiphar formula. This
+came to Europe with the Crusades, and is known in its Western versions
+as the _Seven Sages of Rome_. The Gellert story occurs in all the
+Oriental and Occidental versions; _e.g._, it is the First Master's
+story in Wynkyn de Worde's (ed. G. L. Gomme, for the Villon Society.)
+From the _Seven Sages_ it was taken into the particular branch of the
+_Gesta Romanorum_ current in England and known as the English _Gesta_,
+where it occurs as c. xxxii., "Story of Folliculus." We have thus
+traced it to England whence it passed to Wales, where I have discovered
+it as the second apologue of "The Fables of Cattwg the Wise," in the
+Iolo MS. published by the Welsh MS. Society, p.561, "The man who killed
+his Greyhound." (These Fables, Mr. Nutt informs me, are a pseudonymous
+production probably of the sixteenth century.) This concludes the
+literary route of the Legend of Gellert from India to Wales: Buddhistic
+_Vinaya Pitaka--Fables of Bidpai_;--Oriental _Sindibad_;--Occidental
+_Seven Sages of Rome_;--"English" (Latin), _Gesta Romanorum_;--Welsh,
+_Fables of Cattwg_.
+
+_Remarks_.--We have still to connect the legend with Llewelyn and with
+Bedd Gelert. But first it may be desirable to point out why it is
+necessary to assume that the legend is a legend and not a fact. The
+saving of an infant's life by a dog, and the mistaken slaughter of the
+dog, are not such an improbable combination as to make it impossible
+that the same event occurred in many places. But what is impossible, in
+my opinion, is that such an event should have independently been used
+in different places as the typical instance of, and warning against,
+rash action. That the Gellert legend, before it was localised, was used
+as a moral apologue in Wales is shown by the fact that it occurs among
+the Fables of Cattwg, which are all of that character. It was also
+utilised as a proverb: "_Yr wy'n edivaru cymmaint a'r Gwr a laddodd ei
+Vilgi_" ("I repent as much as the man who slew his greyhound"). The
+fable indeed, from this point of view, seems greatly to have attracted
+the Welsh mind, perhaps as of especial value to a proverbially
+impetuous temperament. Croker (_Fairy Legends of Ireland_, vol. iii. p.
+165) points out several places where the legend seems to have been
+localised in place-names--two places, called "Gwal y Vilast"
+("Greyhound's Couch"), in Carmarthen and Glamorganshire; "Llech y Asp"
+("Dog's Stone"), in Cardigan, and another place named in Welsh "Spring
+of the Greyhound's Stone." Mr. Baring-Gould mentions that the legend is
+told of an ordinary tombstone, with a knight and a greyhound, in
+Abergavenny Church; while the Fable of Cattwg is told of a man in
+Abergarwan. So widespread and well known was the legend that it was in
+Richard III's time adopted as the national crest. In the Warwick Roll,
+at the Herald's Office, after giving separate crests for England,
+Scotland, and Ireland, that for Wales is given as figured in the
+margin, and blazoned "on a coronet in a cradle or, a greyhound argent
+for Walys" (see J. R. Planche, _Twelve Designs for the Costume of
+Shakespeare's Richard III._, 1830, frontispiece). If this Roll is
+authentic, the popularity of the legend is thrown back into the
+fifteenth century. It still remains to explain how and when this
+general legend of rash action was localised and specialised at Bedd
+Gelert: I believe I have discovered this. There certainly was a local
+legend about a dog named Gelert at that place; E. Jones, in the first
+edition of his _Musical Relicks of the Welsh Bards_, 1784, p. 40, gives
+the following _englyn_ or epigram:
+
+  Claddwyd Cylart celfydd (ymlyniad)
+    Ymlaneau Efionydd
+  Parod giuio i'w gynydd
+    Parai'r dydd yr heliai Hydd;
+
+which he Englishes thus:
+
+  The remains of famed Cylart, so faithful and good,
+    The bounds of the cantred conceal;
+  Whenever the doe or the stag he pursued
+    His master was sure of a meal.
+
+No reference was made in the first edition to the Gellert legend, but
+in the second edition of 1794, p. 75, a note was added telling the
+legend, "There is a general tradition in North Wales that a wolf had
+entered the house of Prince Llewellyn. Soon after the Prince returned
+home, and, going into the nursery, he met his dog _Kill-hart_, all
+bloody and wagging his tail at him; Prince Llewellyn, on entering the
+room found the cradle where his child lay overturned, and the floor
+flowing with blood; imagining that the greyhound had killed the child,
+he immediately drew his sword and stabbed it; then, turning up the
+cradle, found under it the child alive, and the wolf dead. This so
+grieved the Prince, that he erected a tomb over his faithful dog's
+grave; where afterwards the parish church was built and goes by that
+name--_Bedd Cilhart_, or the grave of Kill-hart, in _Carnarvonshire_.
+From this incident is elicited a very common Welsh proverb [that given
+above which occurs also in 'The Fables of Cattwg;' it will be observed
+that it is quite indefinite.]" "Prince Llewellyn ab Jorwerth married
+Joan, [natural] daughter of King John, by _Agatha_, daughter of Robert
+Ferrers, Earl of Derby; and the dog was a present to the prince from
+his father-in-law about the year 1205." It was clearly from this note
+that the Hon. Mr. Spencer got his account; oral tradition does not
+indulge in dates _Anno Domini_. The application of the general legend
+of "the man who slew his greyhound" to the dog Cylart, was due to the
+learning of E. Jones, author of the _Musical Relicks_. I am convinced
+of this, for by a lucky chance I am enabled to give the real legend
+about Cylart, which is thus given in Carlisle's _Topographical
+Dictionary of Wales_, s.v., "Bedd Celert," published in 1811, the date
+of publication of Mr. Spencer's _Poems_. "Its name, according to
+tradition, implies _The Grave of Celert_, a Greyhound which belonged to
+Llywelyn, the last Prince of Wales: and a large Rock is still pointed
+out as the monument of this celebrated Dog, being on the spot where it
+was found dead, together with the stag which it had pursued from
+Carnarvon," which is thirteen miles distant. The cairn was thus a
+monument of a "record" run of a greyhound: the _englyn_ quoted by Jones
+is suitable enough for this, while quite inadequate to record the later
+legendary exploits of Gelert. Jones found an _englyn_ devoted to _an_
+exploit of a dog named Cylart, and chose to interpret it in his second
+edition, 1794, as _the_ exploit of a greyhound with which all the world
+(in Wales) were acquainted. Mr. Spencer took the legend from Jones (the
+reference to the date 1205 proves that), enshrined it in his somewhat
+_banal_ verses, which were lucky enough to be copied into several
+reading-books, and thus became known to all English-speaking folk.
+
+It remains only to explain why Jones connected the legend with
+Llewelyn. Llewelyn had local connection with Bedd Gellert, which was
+the seat of an Augustinian abbey, one of the oldest in Wales. An
+inspeximus of Edward I. given in Dugdale, _Monast. Angl._, ed. pr. ii.
+100a, quotes as the earliest charter of the abbey "Cartam Lewelin,
+magni." The name of the abbey was "Beth Kellarth"; the name is thus
+given by Leland, _l.c._, and as late as 1794 an engraving at the
+British Museum is entitled "Beth Kelert," while Carlisle gives it as
+"Beth Celert." The place was thus named after the abbey, not after the
+cairn or rock. This is confirmed by the fact of which Prof. Rhys had
+informed me, that the collocation of letters _rt_ is un-Welsh. Under
+these circumstances it is not impossible, I think, that the earlier
+legend of the marvellous run of "Cylart" from Carnarvon was due to the
+etymologising fancy of some English-speaking Welshman who interpreted
+the name as Killhart, so that the simpler legend would be only a
+folk-etymology.
+
+But whether Kellarth, Kelert, Cylart, Gelert or Gellert ever existed
+and ran a hart from Carnarvon to Bedd Gellert or no, there can be
+little doubt after the preceding that he was not the original hero of
+the fable of "the man that slew his greyhound," which came to Wales
+from Buddhistic India through channels which are perfectly traceable.
+It was Edward Jones who first raised him to that proud position, and
+William Spencer who securely installed him there, probably for all
+time. The legend is now firmly established at Bedd Gellert. There is
+said to be an ancient air, "Bedd Gelert," "as sung by the Ancient
+Britons"; it is given in a pamphlet published at Carnarvon in the
+"fifties," entitled _Gellert's Grave; or, Llewellyn's Rashness: a
+Ballad, by the Hon. W. R. Spencer, to which is added that ancient Welsh
+air, "Bedd Gelert," as sung by the Ancient Britons_. The air is from R.
+Roberts' "Collection of Welsh Airs," but what connection it has with
+the legend I have been unable to ascertain. This is probably another
+case of adapting one tradition to another. It is almost impossible to
+distinguish palaeozoic and cainozoic strata in oral tradition.
+According to Murray's _Guide to N. Wales_, p. 125, the only authority
+for the cairn now shown is that of the landlord of the Goat Inn, "who
+felt compelled by the cravings of tourists to invent a grave." Some old
+men at Bedd Gellert, Prof. Rhys informs me, are ready to testify that
+they saw the cairn laid. They might almost have been present at the
+birth of the legend, which, if my affiliation of it is correct, is not
+yet quite 100 years old.
+
+
+
+
+XXII. STORY OF IVAN.
+
+_Source_.--Lluyd, _Archaeologia Britannia_, 1707, the first comparative
+Celtic grammar and the finest piece of work in comparative philology
+hitherto done in England, contains this tale as a specimen of Cornish
+then still spoken in Cornwall. I have used the English version
+contained in _Blackwood's Magazine_ as long ago as May 1818. I have
+taken the third counsel from the Irish version, as the original is not
+suited _virginibus puerisque_, though harmless enough in itself.
+
+_Parallels_.--Lover has a tale, _The Three Advices_. It occurs also in
+modern Cornwall _ap._ Hunt, _Drolls of West of England_, 344, "The
+Tinner of Chyamor." Borrow, _Wild Wales_, 41, has a reference which
+seems to imply that the story had crystallised into a Welsh proverb.
+Curiously enough, it forms the chief episode of the so-called "Irish
+Odyssey" ("_Merugud Uilix maiec Leirtis_"--"Wandering of Ulysses
+M'Laertes"). It was derived, in all probability, from the _Gesta
+Romanorum_, c. 103, where two of the three pieces of advice are "Avoid
+a byeway," "Beware of a house where the housewife is younger than her
+husband." It is likely enough that this chapter, like others of the
+_Gesta_, came from the East, for it is found in some versions of "The
+Forty Viziers," and in the _Turkish Tales_ (see Oesterley's parallels
+and _Gesta_, ed. Swan and Hooper, note 9).
+
+
+
+
+XXIII. ANDREW COFFEY.
+
+_Source_.--From the late D. W. Logie, written down by Mr. Alfred Nutt.
+
+_Parallels_.--Dr. Hyde's "Teig O'Kane and the Corpse," and Kennedy's
+"Cauth Morrisy," _Legend. Fict._, 158, are practically the same.
+
+_Remarks_.--No collection of Celtic Folk-Tales would be representative
+that did not contain some specimen of the gruesome. The most effective
+ghoul story in existence is Lover's "Brown Man."
+
+
+
+
+XXIV. BATTLE OF BIRDS.
+
+_Source_.--Campbell (_Pop. Tales, W. Highlands_, No. ii.), with touches
+from the seventh variant and others, including the casket and key
+finish, from Curtin's "Son of the King of Erin" (_Myths, &c., 32
+seq._). I have also added a specimen of the humorous end pieces added
+by Gaelic story-tellers; on these tags see an interesting note in
+MacDougall's _Tales_, note on p. 112. I have found some difficulty in
+dealing with Campbell's excessive use of the second person singular,
+"If thou thouest him some two or three times, 'tis well," but beyond
+that it is wearisome. Practically, I have reserved _thou_ for the
+speech of giants, who may be supposed to be somewhat old-fashioned. I
+fear, however, I have not been quite consistent, though the _you's_
+addressed to the apple-pips are grammatically correct as applied to the
+pair of lovers.
+
+_Parallels_.--Besides the eight versions given or abstracted by
+Campbell and Mr. Curtin's, there is Carleton's "Three Tasks," Dr.
+Hyde's "Son of Branduf" (MS.); there is the First Tale of MacInnes
+(where see Mr. Nutt's elaborate notes, 431-43), two in the _Celtic
+Magazine_, vol. xii., "Grey Norris from Warland" (_Folk-Lore Journ._ i.
+316), and Mr. Lang's Morayshire Tale, "Nicht Nought Nothing" (see _Eng.
+Fairy Tales_, No. vii.), no less than sixteen variants found among the
+Celts. It must have occurred early among them. Mr. Nutt found the
+feather-thatch incident in the _Agallamh na Senoraib_ ("Discourse of
+Elders"), which is at least as old as the fifteenth century. Yet the
+story is to be found throughout the Indo-European world, as is shown by
+Prof. Koehler's elaborate list of parallels attached to Mr. Lang's
+variant in _Revue Celtique_, iii. 374; and Mr. Lang, in his _Custom and
+Myth_ ("A far travelled Tale"), has given a number of parallels from
+savage sources. And strangest of all, the story is practically the same
+as the classical myth of Jason and Medea.
+
+_Remarks_.--Mr. Nutt, in his discussion of the tale (MacInnes, _Tales_
+441), makes the interesting suggestion that the obstacles to pursuit,
+the forest, the mountain, and the river, exactly represent the boundary
+of the old Teutonic Hades, so that the story was originally one of the
+Descent to Hell. Altogether it seems likely that it is one of the
+oldest folk-tales in existence, and belonged to the story-store of the
+original Aryans, whoever they were, was passed by them with their
+language on to the Hellenes and perhaps to the Indians, was developed
+in its modern form in Scandinavia (where its best representative "The
+Master Maid" of Asbjoernsen is still found), was passed by them to the
+Celts and possibly was transmitted by these latter to other parts of
+Europe, perhaps by early Irish monks (see notes on "Sea-Maiden"). The
+spread in the Buddhistic world, and thence to the South Seas and
+Madagascar, would be secondary from India. I hope to have another
+occasion for dealing with this most interesting of all folk-tales in
+the detail it deserves.
+
+
+
+
+XXV. BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS.
+
+_Source_.--From the _Cambrian Quarterly Magazine_, 1830, vol. ii. p.
+86; it is stated to be literally translated from the Welsh.
+
+_Parallels_.--Another variant from Glamorganshire is given in Y
+Cymmrodor, vi. 209. Croker has the story under the title I have given
+the Welsh one in his _Fairy Legends_, 41. Mr. Hartland, in his _Science
+of Fairy Tales_, 113-6, gives the European parallels.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI. LAD WITH THE GOAT SKIN.
+
+_Source_.--Kennedy, _Legendary Fictions_, pp. 23-31. The Adventures of
+"Gilla na Chreck an Gour'."
+
+_Parallels_.--"The Lad with the Skin Coverings" is a popular Celtic
+figure, _cf._ MacDougall's Third Tale, MacInnes' Second, and a
+reference in Campbell, iii. 147. According to Mr. Nutt (_Holy Grail_,
+134), he is the original of Parzival. But the adventures in these tales
+are not the "cure by laughing" incident which forms the centre of our
+tale, and is Indo-European in extent (_cf._ references in _English
+Fairy Tales_, notes to No. xxvii.). "The smith who made hell too hot
+for him is Sisyphus," says Mr. Lang (Introd. to Grimm, p. xiii.); in
+Ireland he is Billy Dawson (Carleton, _Three Wishes_). In the
+Finn-Saga, Conan harries hell, as readers of _Waverley_ may remember
+"'Claw for claw, and devil take the shortest nails,' as Conan said to
+the Devil" (_cf._ Campbell, _The Fians_, 73, and notes, 283).
+Red-haired men in Ireland and elsewhere are always rogues (see Mr.
+Nutt's references, MacInnes' _Tales_, 477; to which add the case in
+"Lough Neagh," Yeats, _Irish Folk-Tales_, p. 210).
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Celtic Fairy Tales, by Joseph Jacobs (coll. & ed.)
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