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diff --git a/7885.txt b/7885.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5eed30 --- /dev/null +++ b/7885.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8558 @@ +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.) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CELTIC FAIRY TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 7885.txt or 7885.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/8/7885/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Charles Franks, and the people +at Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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