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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31763-8.txt b/31763-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e2565e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/31763-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4489 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Irish Fairy Tales, Edited by W. B. (William +Butler) Yeats, Illustrated by Jack B. Yeats + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Irish Fairy Tales + + +Editor: W. B. (William Butler) Yeats + +Release Date: March 25, 2010 [eBook #31763] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH FAIRY TALES*** + + +E-text prepared by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from +page images generously made available by Internet Archive +(http://www.archive.org) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 31763-h.htm or 31763-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31763/31763-h/31763-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31763/31763-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + http://www.archive.org/details/fairytalesirish00yeatrich + + + + + +IRISH FAIRY TALES + +Edited + +With an Introduction + +by + +W. B. YEATS + +Author of 'The Wanderings of Oisin,' Etc. + +Illustrated by Jack B. Yeats + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "PLAYING AWAY ON THE PIPES AS MERRILY AS IF NOTHING HAD +HAPPENED." (_Page_ 48.)] + + + +London +T. Fisher Unwin +1892 + + + + +_WHERE MY BOOKS GO._ + + _All the words that I gather, + And all the words that I write, + Must spread out their wings untiring, + And never rest in their flight, + Till they come where your sad, sad heart is, + And sing to you in the night, + Beyond where the waters are moving, + Storm darkened or starry bright._ + +_W. B. YEATS._ + +LONDON, _January 1892_. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + INTRODUCTION 1 + + LAND AND WATER FAIRIES + + THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE 13 + + THE RIVAL KEMPERS 17 + + THE YOUNG PIPER 32 + + A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT 49 + + TEIGUE OF THE LEE 53 + + THE FAIRY GREYHOUND 69 + + THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 77 + + + EVIL SPIRITS + + THE DEVIL'S MILL 95 + + FERGUS O'MARA AND THE AIR-DEMONS 112 + + THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW FEAR 123 + + + CATS + + SEANCHAN THE BARD AND THE KING OF THE CATS 141 + + OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 151 + + + KINGS AND WARRIORS + + THE KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN 185 + + THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE 195 + + + APPENDIX + + CLASSIFICATION OF IRISH FAIRIES 223 + + AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLKLORE 234 + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +AN IRISH STORY-TELLER + + +I am often doubted when I say that the Irish peasantry still believe +in fairies. People think I am merely trying to bring back a little of +the old dead beautiful world of romance into this century of great +engines and spinning-jinnies. Surely the hum of wheels and clatter of +printing presses, to let alone the lecturers with their black coats +and tumblers of water, have driven away the goblin kingdom and made +silent the feet of the little dancers. + +Old Biddy Hart at any rate does not think so. Our bran-new opinions +have never been heard of under her brown-thatched roof tufted with +yellow stone-crop. It is not so long since I sat by the turf fire +eating her griddle cake in her cottage on the slope of Benbulben and +asking after her friends, the fairies, who inhabit the green +thorn-covered hill up there behind her house. How firmly she believed +in them! How greatly she feared offending them! For a long time she +would give me no answer but 'I always mind my own affairs and they +always mind theirs.' A little talk about my great-grandfather who +lived all his life in the valley below, and a few words to remind her +how I myself was often under her roof when but seven or eight years +old loosened her tongue, however. It would be less dangerous at any +rate to talk to me of the fairies than it would be to tell some +'Towrow' of them, as she contemptuously called English tourists, for I +had lived under the shadow of their own hillsides. She did not +forget, however, to remind me to say after we had finished, 'God bless +them, Thursday' (that being the day), and so ward off their +displeasure, in case they were angry at our notice, for they love to +live and dance unknown of men. + +Once started, she talked on freely enough, her face glowing in the +firelight as she bent over the griddle or stirred the turf, and told +how such a one was stolen away from near Coloney village and made to +live seven years among 'the gentry,' as she calls the fairies for +politeness' sake, and how when she came home she had no toes, for she +had danced them off; and how such another was taken from the +neighbouring village of Grange and compelled to nurse the child of the +queen of the fairies a few months before I came. Her news about the +creatures is always quite matter-of-fact and detailed, just as if she +dealt with any common occurrence: the late fair, or the dance at +Rosses last year, when a bottle of whisky was given to the best man, +and a cake tied up in ribbons to the best woman dancer. They are, to +her, people not so different from herself, only grander and finer in +every way. They have the most beautiful parlours and drawing-rooms, +she would tell you, as an old man told me once. She has endowed them +with all she knows of splendour, although that is not such a great +deal, for her imagination is easily pleased. What does not seem to us +so very wonderful is wonderful to her, there, where all is so homely +under her wood rafters and her thatched ceiling covered with +whitewashed canvas. We have pictures and books to help us imagine a +splendid fairy world of gold and silver, of crowns and marvellous +draperies; but she has only that little picture of St. Patrick over +the fireplace, the bright-coloured crockery on the dresser, and the +sheet of ballads stuffed by her young daughter behind the stone dog +on the mantelpiece. Is it strange, then, if her fairies have not the +fantastic glories of the fairies you and I are wont to see in +picture-books and read of in stories? She will tell you of peasants +who met the fairy cavalcade and thought it but a troop of peasants +like themselves until it vanished into shadow and night, and of great +fairy palaces that were mistaken, until they melted away, for the +country seats of rich gentlemen. + +Her views of heaven itself have the same homeliness, and she would be +quite as naïve about its personages if the chance offered as was the +pious Clondalkin laundress who told a friend of mine that she had seen +a vision of St. Joseph, and that he had 'a lovely shining hat upon him +and a shirt-buzzom that was never starched in this world.' She would +have mixed some quaint poetry with it, however; for there is a world +of difference between Benbulben and Dublinised Clondalkin. + +Heaven and Fairyland--to these has Biddy Hart given all she dreams of +magnificence, and to them her soul goes out--to the one in love and +hope, to the other in love and fear--day after day and season after +season; saints and angels, fairies and witches, haunted thorn-trees +and holy wells, are to her what books, and plays, and pictures are to +you and me. Indeed they are far more; for too many among us grow +prosaic and commonplace, but she keeps ever a heart full of music. 'I +stand here in the doorway,' she said once to me on a fine day, 'and +look at the mountain and think of the goodness of God'; and when she +talks of the fairies I have noticed a touch of tenderness in her +voice. She loves them because they are always young, always making +festival, always far off from the old age that is coming upon her and +filling her bones with aches, and because, too, they are so like +little children. + +Do you think the Irish peasant would be so full of poetry if he had +not his fairies? Do you think the peasant girls of Donegal, when they +are going to service inland, would kneel down as they do and kiss the +sea with their lips if both sea and land were not made lovable to them +by beautiful legends and wild sad stories? Do you think the old men +would take life so cheerily and mutter their proverb, 'The lake is not +burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul +that is in him,' if the multitude of spirits were not near them? + +W. B. YEATS. + +CLONDALKIN, + +_July 1891_. + + + + +NOTE + + +I have to thank Lady Wilde for leave to give 'Seanchan the Bard' from +her _Ancient Legends of Ireland_ (Ward and Downey), the most poetical +and ample collection of Irish folklore yet published; Mr. Standish +O'Grady for leave to give 'The Knighting of Cuculain' from that prose +epic he has curiously named _History of Ireland, Heroic Period_; +Professor Joyce for his 'Fergus O'Mara and the Air Demons'; and Mr. +Douglas Hyde for his unpublished story, 'The Man who never knew +Fear.' + +I have included no story that has already appeared in my _Fairy and +Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry_ (Camelot Series). + +The two volumes make, I believe, a fairly representative collection of +Irish folk tales. + + + + +LAND AND WATER FAIRIES + + + + +THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE + +BY WILLIAM CARLETON + + +Lanty M'Clusky had married a wife, and, of course, it was necessary to +have a house in which to keep her. Now, Lanty had taken a bit of a +farm, about six acres; but as there was no house on it, he resolved to +build one; and that it might be as comfortable as possible, he +selected for the site of it one of those beautiful green circles that +are supposed to be the play-ground of the fairies. Lanty was warned +against this; but as he was a headstrong man, and not much given to +fear, he said he would not change such a pleasant situation for his +house to oblige all the fairies in Europe. He accordingly proceeded +with the building, which he finished off very neatly; and, as it is +usual on these occasions to give one's neighbours and friends a +house-warming, so, in compliance with this good and pleasant old +custom, Lanty having brought home the wife in the course of the day, +got a fiddler and a lot of whisky, and gave those who had come to see +him a dance in the evening. This was all very well, and the fun and +hilarity were proceeding briskly, when a noise was heard after night +had set in, like a crushing and straining of ribs and rafters on the +top of the house. The folks assembled all listened, and, without +doubt, there was nothing heard but crushing, and heaving, and pushing, +and groaning, and panting, as if a thousand little men were engaged +in pulling down the roof. + +'Come,' said a voice which spoke in a tone of command, 'work hard: you +know we must have Lanty's house down before midnight.' + +This was an unwelcome piece of intelligence to Lanty, who, finding +that his enemies were such as he could not cope with, walked out, and +addressed them as follows: + +'Gintlemen, I humbly ax yer pardon for buildin' on any place belongin' +to you; but if you'll have the civilitude to let me alone this night, +I'll begin to pull down and remove the house to-morrow morning.' + +This was followed by a noise like the clapping of a thousand tiny +little hands, and a shout of 'Bravo, Lanty! build half-way between the +two White-thorns above the boreen'; and after another hearty little +shout of exultation, there was a brisk rushing noise, and they were +heard no more. + +The story, however, does not end here; for Lanty, when digging the +foundation of his new house, found the full of a _kam_[1] of gold: so +that in leaving to the fairies their play-ground, he became a richer +man than ever he otherwise would have been, had he never come in +contact with them at all. + +[Footnote 1: _Kam_--a metal vessel in which the peasantry dip +rushlights.] + + + + +THE RIVAL KEMPERS + +BY WILLIAM CARLETON + + +In the north of Ireland there are spinning meetings of unmarried +females frequently held at the houses of farmers, called _kemps_. +Every young woman who has got the reputation of being a quick and +expert spinner attends where the kemp is to be held, at an hour +usually before daylight, and on these occasions she is accompanied by +her sweetheart or some male relative, who carries her wheel, and +conducts her safely across the fields or along the road, as the case +may be. A kemp is, indeed, an animated and joyous scene, and one, +besides, which is calculated to promote industry and decent pride. +Scarcely anything can be more cheering and agreeable than to hear at a +distance, breaking the silence of morning, the light-hearted voices of +many girls either in mirth or song, the humming sound of the busy +wheels--jarred upon a little, it is true, by the stridulous noise and +checkings of the reels, and the voices of the reelers, as they call +aloud the checks, together with the name of the girl and the quantity +she has spun up to that period; for the contest is generally commenced +two or three hours before daybreak. This mirthful spirit is also +sustained by the prospect of a dance--with which, by the way, every +kemp closes; and when the fair victor is declared, she is to be looked +upon as the queen of the meeting, and treated with the necessary +respect. + +But to our tale. Every one knew Shaun Buie M'Gaveran to be the +cleanest, best-conducted boy, and the most industrious too, in the +whole parish of Faugh-a-ballagh. Hard was it to find a young fellow +who could handle a flail, spade, or reaping-hook in better style, or +who could go through his day's work in a more creditable or +workmanlike manner. In addition to this, he was a fine, well-built, +handsome young man as you could meet in a fair; and so, sign was on +it, maybe the pretty girls weren't likely to pull each other's caps +about him. Shaun, however, was as prudent as he was good-looking; and +although he wanted a wife, yet the sorrow one of him but preferred +taking a well-handed, smart girl, who was known to be well-behaved and +industrious, like himself. Here, however, was where the puzzle lay on +him; for instead of one girl of that kind, there were in the +neighbourhood no less than a dozen of them--all equally fit and +willing to become his wife, and all equally good-looking. There were +two, however, whom he thought a trifle above the rest; but so nicely +balanced were Biddy Corrigan and Sally Gorman, that for the life of +him he could not make up his mind to decide between them. Each of them +had won her kemp; and it was currently said by them who ought to know, +that neither of them could over-match the other. No two girls in the +parish were better respected, or deserved to be so; and the +consequence was, they had every one's good word and good wish. Now it +so happened that Shaun had been pulling a cord with each; and as he +knew not how to decide between, he thought he would allow them to do +that themselves if they could. He accordingly gave out to the +neighbours that he would hold a kemp on that day week, and he told +Biddy and Sally especially that he had made up his mind to marry +whichever of them won the kemp, for he knew right well, as did all +the parish, that one of them must. The girls agreed to this very +good-humouredly, Biddy telling Sally that she (Sally) would surely win +it; and Sally, not to be outdone in civility, telling the same thing +to her. + +Well, the week was nearly past, there being but two days till that of +the kemp, when, about three o'clock, there walks into the house of old +Paddy Corrigan a little woman dressed in high-heeled shoes and a short +red cloak. There was no one in the house but Biddy at the time, who +rose up and placed a chair near the fire, and asked the little red +woman to sit down and rest herself. She accordingly did so, and in a +short time a lively chat commenced between them. + +'So,' said the strange woman, 'there's to be a great kemp in Shaun +Buie M'Gaveran's?' + +'Indeed there is that, good woman,' replied Biddy, smiling and +blushing to back of that again, because she knew her own fate +depended on it. + +'And,' continued the little woman, 'whoever wins the kemp wins a +husband?' + +'Ay, so it seems.' + +'Well, whoever gets Shaun will be a happy woman, for he's the moral of +a good boy.' + +'That's nothing but the truth, anyhow,' replied Biddy, sighing, for +fear, you may be sure, that she herself might lose him; and indeed a +young woman might sigh from many a worse reason. 'But,' said she, +changing the subject, 'you appear to be tired, honest woman, an' I +think you had better eat a bit, an' take a good drink of _buinnhe +ramwher_ (thick milk) to help you on your journey.' + +'Thank you kindly, a colleen,' said the woman; 'I'll take a bit, if +you plase, hopin', at the same time, that you won't be the poorer of +it this day twelve months.' + +'Sure,' said the girl, 'you know that what we give from kindness ever +an' always leaves a blessing behind it.' + +'Yes, acushla, when it _is_ given from kindness.' + +She accordingly helped herself to the food that Biddy placed before +her, and appeared, after eating, to be very much refreshed. + +'Now,' said she, rising up, 'you're a very good girl, an' if you are +able to find out my name before Tuesday morning, the kemp-day, I tell +you that you'll win it, and gain the husband.' + +'Why,' said Biddy, 'I never saw you before. I don't know who you are, +nor where you live; how then can I ever find out your name?' + +'You never saw me before, sure enough,' said the old woman, 'an' I +tell you that you never will see me again but once; an' yet if you +have not my name for me at the close of the kemp, you'll lose all, an' +that will leave you a sore heart, for well I know you love Shaun +Buie.' + +So saying, she went away, and left poor Biddy quite cast down at what +she had said, for, to tell the truth, she loved Shaun very much, and +had no hopes of being able to find out the name of the little woman, +on which, it appeared, so much to her depended. + +It was very near the same hour of the same day that Sally Gorman was +sitting alone in her father's house, thinking of the kemp, when who +should walk in to her but our friend the little red woman. + +'God save you, honest woman,' said Sally, 'this is a fine day that's +in it, the Lord be praised!' + +'It is,' said the woman, 'as fine a day as one could wish for: indeed +it is.' + +'Have you no news on your travels?' asked Sally. + +'The only news in the neighbourhood,' replied the other, 'is this +great kemp that's to take place at Shaun Buie M'Gaveran's. They say +you're either to win him or lose him then,' she added, looking +closely at Sally as she spoke. + +'I'm not very much afraid of that,' said Sally, with confidence; 'but +even if I do lose him, I may get as good.' + +'It's not easy gettin' as good,' rejoined the old woman, 'an' you +ought to be very glad to win him, if you can.' + +'Let me alone for that,' said Sally. 'Biddy's a good girl, I allow; +but as for spinnin', she never saw the day she could leave me behind +her. Won't you sit an' rest you?' she added; 'maybe you're tired.' + +'It's time for you to think of it,' _thought_ the woman, but she spoke +nothing: 'but,' she added to herself on reflection, 'it's better late +than never--I'll sit awhile, till I see a little closer what she's +made of.' + +She accordingly sat down and chatted upon several subjects, such as +young women like to talk about, for about half an hour; after which +she arose, and taking her little staff in hand, she bade Sally +good-bye, and went her way. After passing a little from the house she +looked back, and could not help speaking to herself as follows: + + 'She's smooth and smart, + But she wants the heart; + She's tight and neat, + But she gave no meat.' + +Poor Biddy now made all possible inquiries about the old woman, but to +no purpose. Not a soul she spoke to about her had ever seen or heard +of such a woman. She felt very dispirited, and began to lose heart, +for there is no doubt that if she missed Shaun it would have cost her +many a sorrowful day. She knew she would never get his equal, or at +least any one that she loved so well. At last the kemp day came, and +with it all the pretty girls of the neighbourhood to Shaun Buie's. +Among the rest, the two that were to decide their right to him were +doubtless the handsomest pair by far, and every one admired them. To +be sure, it was a blythe and merry place, and many a light laugh and +sweet song rang out from pretty lips that day. Biddy and Sally, as +every one expected, were far ahead of the rest, but so even in their +spinning that the reelers could not for the life of them declare which +was the better. It was neck-and-neck and head-and-head between the +pretty creatures, and all who were at the kemp felt themselves wound +up to the highest pitch of interest and curiosity to know which of +them would be successful. + +The day was now more than half gone, and no difference was between +them, when, to the surprise and sorrow of every one present, Biddy +Corrigan's _heck_ broke in two, and so to all appearance ended the +contest in favour of her rival; and what added to her mortification, +she was as ignorant of the red little woman's name as ever. What was +to be done? All that could be done was done. Her brother, a boy of +about fourteen years of age, happened to be present when the accident +took place, having been sent by his father and mother to bring them +word how the match went on between the rival spinsters. Johnny +Corrigan was accordingly despatched with all speed to Donnel +M'Cusker's, the wheelwright, in order to get the heck mended, that +being Biddy's last but hopeless chance. Johnny's anxiety that his +sister should win was of course very great, and in order to lose as +little time as possible he struck across the country, passing through, +or rather close by, Kilrudden forth, a place celebrated as a resort of +the fairies. What was his astonishment, however, as he passed a +White-thorn tree, to hear a female voice singing, in accompaniment to +the sound of a spinning-wheel, the following words: + + 'There's a girl in this town doesn't know my name; + But my name's Even Trot--Even Trot.' + +'There's a girl in this town,' said the lad, 'who's in great distress, +for she has broken her heck, and lost a husband. I'm now goin' to +Donnel M'Cusker's to get it mended.' + +'What's her name?' said the little red woman. + +'Biddy Corrigan.' + +The little woman immediately whipped out the heck from her own wheel, +and giving it to the boy, desired him to take it to his sister, and +never mind Donnel M'Cusker. + +'You have little time to lose,' she added, 'so go back and give her +this; but don't tell her how you got it, nor, above all things, that +it was Even Trot that gave it to you.' + +The lad returned, and after giving the heck to his sister, as a matter +of course told her that it was a little red woman called Even Trot +that sent it to her, a circumstance which made tears of delight start +to Biddy's eyes, for she knew now that Even Trot was the name of the +old woman, and having known that, she felt that something good would +happen to her. She now resumed her spinning, and never did human +fingers let down the thread so rapidly. The whole kemp were amazed at +the quantity which from time to time filled her pirn. The hearts of +her friends began to rise, and those of Sally's party to sink, as hour +after hour she was fast approaching her rival, who now spun if +possible with double speed on finding Biddy coming up with her. At +length they were again even, and just at that moment in came her +friend the little red woman, and asked aloud, 'Is there any one in +this kemp that knows my name?' This question she asked three times +before Biddy could pluck up courage to answer her. She at last said, + + 'There's a girl in this town does know your name-- + Your name is Even Trot--Even Trot.' + +'Ay,' said the old woman, 'and so it is; and let that name be your +guide and your husband's through life. Go steadily along, but let your +step be even; stop little; keep always advancing; and you'll never +have cause to rue the day that you first saw Even Trot.' + +We need scarcely add that Biddy won the kemp and the husband, and that +she and Shaun lived long and happily together; and I have only now to +wish, kind reader, that you and I may live longer and more happily +still. + + + + +THE YOUNG PIPER + +BY CROFTON CROKER + + +There lived not long since, on the borders of the county Tipperary, a +decent honest couple, whose names were Mick Flannigan and Judy +Muldoon. These poor people were blessed, as the saying is, with four +children, all boys: three of them were as fine, stout, healthy, +good-looking children as ever the sun shone upon; and it was enough to +make any Irishman proud of the breed of his countrymen to see them +about one o'clock on a fine summer's day standing at their father's +cabin door, with their beautiful flaxen hair hanging in curls about +their head, and their cheeks like two rosy apples, and a big laughing +potato smoking in their hand. A proud man was Mick of these fine +children, and a proud woman, too, was Judy; and reason enough they had +to be so. But it was far otherwise with the remaining one, which was +the third eldest: he was the most miserable, ugly, ill-conditioned +brat that ever God put life into; he was so ill-thriven that he never +was able to stand alone, or to leave his cradle; he had long, shaggy, +matted, curled hair, as black as the soot; his face was of a +greenish-yellow colour; his eyes were like two burning coals, and were +for ever moving in his head, as if they had the perpetual motion. +Before he was a twelvemonth old he had a mouth full of great teeth; +his hands were like kites' claws, and his legs were no thicker than +the handle of a whip, and about as straight as a reaping-hook: to +make the matter worse, he had the appetite of a cormorant, and the +whinge, and the yelp, and the screech, and the yowl, was never out of +his mouth. + +The neighbours all suspected that he was something not right, +particularly as it was observed, when people, as they do in the +country, got about the fire, and began to talk of religion and good +things, the brat, as he lay in the cradle, which his mother generally +put near the fireplace that he might be snug, used to sit up, as they +were in the middle of their talk, and begin to bellow as if the devil +was in him in right earnest; this, as I said, led the neighbours to +think that all was not right, and there was a general consultation +held one day about what would be best to do with him. Some advised to +put him out on the shovel, but Judy's pride was up at that. A pretty +thing indeed, that a child of hers should be put on a shovel and +flung out on the dunghill just like a dead kitten or a poisoned rat; +no, no, she would not hear to that at all. One old woman, who was +considered very skilful and knowing in fairy matters, strongly +recommended her to put the tongs in the fire, and heat them red hot, +and to take his nose in them, and that would beyond all manner of +doubt make him tell what he was and where he came from (for the +general suspicion was, that he had been changed by the good people); +but Judy was too softhearted, and too fond of the imp, so she would +not give in to this plan, though everybody said she was wrong, and +maybe she was, but it's hard to blame a mother. Well, some advised one +thing, and some another; at last one spoke of sending for the priest, +who was a very holy and a very learned man, to see it. To this Judy of +course had no objection; but one thing or other always prevented her +doing so, and the upshot of the business was that the priest never +saw him. + +Things went on in the old way for some time longer. The brat continued +yelping and yowling, and eating more than his three brothers put +together, and playing all sorts of unlucky tricks, for he was mighty +mischievously inclined, till it happened one day that Tim Carrol, the +blind piper, going his rounds, called in and sat down by the fire to +have a bit of chat with the woman of the house. So after some time +Tim, who was no churl of his music, yoked on the pipes, and began to +bellows away in high style; when the instant he began, the young +fellow, who had been lying as still as a mouse in his cradle, sat up, +began to grin and twist his ugly face, to swing about his long tawny +arms, and to kick out his crooked legs, and to show signs of great +glee at the music. At last nothing would serve him but he should get +the pipes into his own hands, and to humour him his mother asked Tim +to lend them to the child for a minute. Tim, who was kind to children, +readily consented; and as Tim had not his sight, Judy herself brought +them to the cradle, and went to put them on him; but she had no +occasion, for the youth seemed quite up to the business. He buckled on +the pipes, set the bellows under one arm, and the bag under the other, +worked them both as knowingly as if he had been twenty years at the +business, and lilted up 'Sheela na guira' in the finest style +imaginable. + +All were in astonishment: the poor woman crossed herself. Tim, who, as +I said before, was _dark_, and did not well know who was playing, was +in great delight; and when he heard that it was a little _prechan_ not +five years old, that had never seen a set of pipes in his life, he +wished the mother joy of her son; offered to take him off her hands if +she would part with him, swore he was a _born_ piper, a natural +_genus_, and declared that in a little time more, with the help of a +little good instruction from himself, there would not be his match in +the whole country. The poor woman was greatly delighted to hear all +this, particularly as what Tim said about natural _genus_ quieted some +misgivings that were rising in her mind, lest what the neighbours said +about his not being right might be too true; and it gratified her +moreover to think that her dear child (for she really loved the whelp) +would not be forced to turn out and beg, but might earn decent bread +for himself. So when Mick came home in the evening from his work, she +up and told him all that had happened, and all that Tim Carrol had +said; and Mick, as was natural, was very glad to hear it, for the +helpless condition of the poor creature was a great trouble to him. So +next day he took the pig to the fair, and with what it brought set +off to Clonmel, and bespoke a bran-new set of pipes, of the proper +size for him. + +In about a fortnight the pipes came home, and the moment the chap in +his cradle laid eyes on them he squealed with delight and threw up his +pretty legs, and bumped himself in his cradle, and went on with a +great many comical tricks; till at last, to quiet him, they gave him +the pipes, and he immediately set to and pulled away at 'Jig Polthog,' +to the admiration of all who heard him. + +The fame of his skill on the pipes soon spread far and near, for there +was not a piper in the six next counties could come at all near him, +in 'Old Moderagh rue,' or 'The Hare in the Corn,' or 'The Fox-hunter's +Jig,' or 'The Rakes of Cashel,' or 'The Piper's Maggot,' or any of the +fine Irish jigs which make people dance whether they will or no: and +it was surprising to hear him rattle away 'The Fox-hunt'; you'd really +think you heard the hounds giving tongue, and the terriers yelping +always behind, and the huntsman and the whippers-in cheering or +correcting the dogs; it was, in short, the very next thing to seeing +the hunt itself. + +The best of him was, he was noways stingy of his music, and many a +merry dance the boys and girls of the neighbourhood used to have in +his father's cabin; and he would play up music for them, that they +said used as it were to put quicksilver in their feet; and they all +declared they never moved so light and so airy to any piper's playing +that ever they danced to. + +But besides all his fine Irish music, he had one queer tune of his +own, the oddest that ever was heard; for the moment he began to play +it everything in the house seemed disposed to dance; the plates and +porringers used to jingle on the dresser, the pots and pot-hooks used +to rattle in the chimney, and people used even to fancy they felt the +stools moving from under them; but, however it might be with the +stools, it is certain that no one could keep long sitting on them, for +both old and young always fell to capering as hard as ever they could. +The girls complained that when he began this tune it always threw them +out in their dancing, and that they never could handle their feet +rightly, for they felt the floor like ice under them, and themselves +every moment ready to come sprawling on their backs or their faces. +The young bachelors who wished to show off their dancing and their new +pumps, and their bright red or green and yellow garters, swore that it +confused them so that they never could go rightly through the _heel +and toe_ or _cover the buckle_, or any of their best steps, but felt +themselves always all bedizzied and bewildered, and then old and young +would go jostling and knocking together in a frightful manner; and +when the unlucky brat had them all in this way, whirligigging about +the floor, he'd grin and chuckle and chatter, for all the world like +Jacko the monkey when he has played off some of his roguery. + +The older he grew the worse he grew, and by the time he was six years +old there was no standing the house for him; he was always making his +brothers burn or scald themselves, or break their shins over the pots +and stools. One time, in harvest, he was left at home by himself, and +when his mother came in she found the cat a-horseback on the dog, with +her face to the tail, and her legs tied round him, and the urchin +playing his queer tune to them; so that the dog went barking and +jumping about, and puss was mewing for the dear life, and slapping her +tail backwards and forwards, which, as it would hit against the dog's +chaps, he'd snap at and bite, and then there was the philliloo. +Another time, the farmer with whom Mick worked, a very decent, +respectable man, happened to call in, and Judy wiped a stool with her +apron, and invited him to sit down and rest himself after his walk. He +was sitting with his back to the cradle, and behind him was a pan of +blood, for Judy was making pig's puddings. The lad lay quite still in +his nest, and watched his opportunity till he got ready a hook at the +end of a piece of twine, which he contrived to fling so handily that +it caught in the bob of the man's nice new wig, and soused it in the +pan of blood. Another time his mother was coming in from milking the +cow, with the pail on her head: the minute he saw her he lilted up his +infernal tune, and the poor woman, letting go the pail, clapped her +hands aside, and began to dance a jig, and tumbled the milk all a-top +of her husband, who was bringing in some turf to boil the supper. In +short, there would be no end to telling all his pranks, and all the +mischievous tricks he played. + +Soon after, some mischances began to happen to the farmer's cattle. A +horse took the staggers, a fine veal calf died of the black-leg, and +some of his sheep of the red-water; the cows began to grow vicious, +and to kick down the milk-pails, and the roof of one end of the barn +fell in; and the farmer took it into his head that Mick Flannigan's +unlucky child was the cause of all the mischief. So one day he called +Mick aside, and said to him, 'Mick, you see things are not going on +with me as they ought, and to be plain with you, Mick, I think that +child of yours is the cause of it. I am really falling away to nothing +with fretting, and I can hardly sleep on my bed at night for thinking +of what may happen before the morning. So I'd be glad if you'd look +out for work somewhere else; you're as good a man as any in the +country, and there's no fear but you'll have your choice of work.' To +this Mick replied, 'that he was sorry for his losses, and still +sorrier that he or his should be thought to be the cause of them; that +for his own part he was not quite easy in his mind about that child, +but he had him and so must keep him'; and he promised to look out for +another place immediately. + +Accordingly, next Sunday at chapel Mick gave out that he was about +leaving the work at John Riordan's, and immediately a farmer who lived +a couple of miles off, and who wanted a ploughman (the last one having +just left him), came up to Mick, and offered him a house and garden, +and work all the year round. Mick, who knew him to be a good employer, +immediately closed with him; so it was agreed that the farmer should +send a car[2] to take his little bit of furniture, and that he should +remove on the following Thursday. + +[Footnote 2: Car, a cart.] + +When Thursday came, the car came according to promise, and Mick loaded +it, and put the cradle with the child and his pipes on the top, and +Judy sat beside it to take care of him, lest he should tumble out and +be killed. They drove the cow before them, the dog followed, but the +cat was of course left behind; and the other three children went along +the road picking skeehories (haws) and blackberries, for it was a fine +day towards the latter end of harvest. + +They had to cross a river, but as it ran through a bottom between two +high banks, you did not see it till you were close on it. The young +fellow was lying pretty quiet in the bottom of the cradle, till they +came to the head of the bridge, when hearing the roaring of the water +(for there was a great flood in the river, as it had rained heavily +for the last two or three days), he sat up in his cradle and looked +about him; and the instant he got a sight of the water, and found they +were going to take him across it, oh, how he did bellow and how he did +squeal! no rat caught in a snap-trap ever sang out equal to him. +'Whist! A lanna,' said Judy, 'there's no fear of you; sure it's only +over the stone bridge we're going.'--'Bad luck to you, you old rip!' +cried he, 'what a pretty trick you've played me to bring me here!' and +still went on yelling, and the farther they got on the bridge the +louder he yelled; till at last Mick could hold out no longer, so +giving him a great skelp of the whip he had in his hand, 'Devil choke +you, you brat!' said he, 'will you never stop bawling? a body can't +hear their ears for you.' The moment he felt the thong of the whip he +leaped up in the cradle, clapped the pipes under his arm, gave a most +wicked grin at Mick, and jumped clean over the battlements of the +bridge down into the water. 'Oh, my child, my child!' shouted Judy, +'he's gone for ever from me.' Mick and the rest of the children ran to +the other side of the bridge, and looking over, they saw him coming +out from under the arch of the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the top +of a white-headed wave, and playing away on the pipes as merrily as if +nothing had happened. The river was running very rapidly, so he was +whirled away at a great rate; but he played as fast, ay, and faster, +than the river ran; and though they set off as hard as they could +along the bank, yet, as the river made a sudden turn round the hill, +about a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he +was out of sight, and no one ever laid eyes on him more; but the +general opinion was that he went home with the pipes to his own +relations, the good people, to make music for them. + + + + +A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT + +_Story-teller_--MICHAEL HART + +_Recorder_--W. B. YEATS + + +In the times when we used to travel by canal I was coming down from +Dublin. When we came to Mullingar the canal ended, and I began to +walk, and stiff and fatigued I was after the slowness. I had some +friends with me, and now and then we walked, now and then we rode in a +cart. So on till we saw some girls milking a cow, and stopped to joke +with them. After a while we asked them for a drink of milk. 'We have +nothing to put it in here,' they said, 'but come to the house with +us.' We went home with them and sat round the fire talking. After a +while the others went, and left me, loath to stir from the good fire. +I asked the girls for something to eat. There was a pot on the fire, +and they took the meat out and put it on a plate and told me to eat +only the meat that came from the head. When I had eaten, the girls +went out and I did not see them again. + +It grew darker and darker, and there I still sat, loath as ever to +leave the good fire; and after a while two men came in, carrying +between them a corpse. When I saw them I hid behind the door. Says one +to the other, 'Who'll turn the spit?' Says the other, 'Michael Hart, +come out of that and turn the meat!' I came out in a tremble and began +turning the spit. 'Michael Hart,' says the one who spoke first, 'if +you let it burn we will have to put you on the spit instead,' and on +that they went out. I sat there trembling and turning the corpse until +midnight. The men came again, and the one said it was burnt, and the +other said it was done right, but having fallen out over it, they both +said they would do me no harm that time; and sitting by the fire one +of them cried out, 'Michael Hart, can you tell a story?' 'Never a +one,' said I. On that he caught me by the shoulders and put me out +like a shot. + +It was a wild, blowing night; never in all my born days did I see such +a night--the darkest night that ever came out of the heavens. I did +not know where I was for the life of me. So when one of the men came +after me and touched me on the shoulder with a 'Michael Hart, can you +tell a story now?'--'I can,' says I. In he brought me, and, putting me +by the fire, says 'Begin.' 'I have no story but the one,' says I, +'that I was sitting here, and that you two men brought in a corpse +and put it on the spit and set me turning it.' 'That will do,' says +he; 'you may go in there and lie down on the bed.' And in I went, +nothing loath, and in the morning where was I but in the middle of a +green field. + + + + +TEIGUE OF THE LEE + +BY CROFTON CROKER + + +I can't stop in the house--I won't stop in it for all the money that +is buried in the old castle of Carrigrohan. If ever there was such a +thing in the world!--to be abused to my face night and day, and nobody +to the fore doing it! and then, if I'm angry, to be laughed at with a +great roaring ho, ho, ho! I won't stay in the house after to-night, if +there was not another place in the country to put my head under.' This +angry soliloquy was pronounced in the hall of the old manor-house of +Carrigrohan by John Sheehan. John was a new servant; he had been only +three days in the house, which had the character of being haunted, and +in that short space of time he had been abused and laughed at by a +voice which sounded as if a man spoke with his head in a cask; nor +could he discover who was the speaker, or from whence the voice came. +'I'll not stop here,' said John; 'and that ends the matter.' + +'Ho, ho, ho! be quiet, John Sheehan, or else worse will happen to +you.' + +John instantly ran to the hall window, as the words were evidently +spoken by a person immediately outside, but no one was visible. He had +scarcely placed his face at the pane of glass when he heard another +loud 'Ho, ho, ho!' as if behind him in the hall; as quick as lightning +he turned his head, but no living thing was to be seen. + +'Ho, ho, ho, John!' shouted a voice that appeared to come from the +lawn before the house: 'do you think you'll see Teigue?--oh, never! as +long as you live! so leave alone looking after him, and mind your +business; there's plenty of company to dinner from Cork to be here +to-day, and 'tis time you had the cloth laid.' + +'Lord bless us! there's more of it!--I'll never stay another day +here,' repeated John. + +'Hold your tongue, and stay where you are quietly, and play no tricks +on Mr. Pratt, as you did on Mr. Jervois about the spoons.' + +John Sheehan was confounded by this address from his invisible +persecutor, but nevertheless he mustered courage enough to say, 'Who +are you? come here, and let me see you, if you are a man'; but he +received in reply only a laugh of unearthly derision, which was +followed by a 'Good-bye--I'll watch you at dinner, John!' + +'Lord between us and harm! this beats all! I'll watch you at dinner! +maybe you will! 'tis the broad daylight, so 'tis no ghost; but this is +a terrible place, and this is the last day I'll stay in it. How does +he know about the spoons? if he tells it I'm a ruined man! there was +no living soul could tell it to him but Tim Barrett, and he's far +enough off in the wilds of Botany Bay now, so how could he know it? I +can't tell for the world! But what's that I see there at the corner of +the wall! 'tis not a man! oh, what a fool I am! 'tis only the old +stump of a tree! But this is a shocking place--I'll never stop in it, +for I'll leave the house to-morrow; the very look of it is enough to +frighten any one.' + +The mansion had certainly an air of desolation; it was situated in a +lawn, which had nothing to break its uniform level save a few tufts of +narcissuses and a couple of old trees coeval with the building. The +house stood at a short distance from the road, it was upwards of a +century old, and Time was doing his work upon it; its walls were +weather-stained in all colours, its roof showed various white patches, +it had no look of comfort; all was dim and dingy without, and within +there was an air of gloom, of departed and departing greatness, which +harmonised well with the exterior. It required all the exuberance of +youth and of gaiety to remove the impression, almost amounting to awe, +with which you trod the huge square hall, paced along the gallery +which surrounded the hall, or explored the long rambling passages +below stairs. The ballroom, as the large drawing-room was called, and +several other apartments, were in a state of decay; the walls were +stained with damp, and I remember well the sensation of awe which I +felt creeping over me when, boy as I was, and full of boyish life and +wild and ardent spirits, I descended to the vaults; all without and +within me became chilled beneath their dampness and gloom--their +extent, too, terrified me; nor could the merriment of my two +schoolfellows, whose father, a respectable clergyman, rented the +dwelling for a time, dispel the feelings of a romantic imagination +until I once again ascended to the upper regions. + +John had pretty well recovered himself as the dinner-hour approached, +and several guests arrived. They were all seated at the table, and had +begun to enjoy the excellent repast, when a voice was heard in the +lawn. + +'Ho, ho, ho! Mr. Pratt, won't you give poor Teigue some dinner? ho, +ho! a fine company you have there, and plenty of everything that's +good; sure you won't forget poor Teigue?' + +John dropped the glass he had in his hand. + +'Who is that?' said Mr. Pratt's brother, an officer of the artillery. + +'That is Teigue,' said Mr. Pratt, laughing, 'whom you must often have +heard me mention.' + +'And pray, Mr. Pratt,' inquired another gentleman, 'who _is_ Teigue?' + +'That,' he replied, 'is more than I can tell. No one has ever been +able to catch even a glimpse of him. I have been on the watch for a +whole evening with three of my sons, yet, although his voice sometimes +sounded almost in my ear, I could not see him. I fancied, indeed, that +I saw a man in a white frieze jacket pass into the door from the +garden to the lawn, but it could be only fancy, for I found the door +locked, while the fellow, whoever he is, was laughing at our trouble. +He visits us occasionally, and sometimes a long interval passes +between his visits, as in the present case; it is now nearly two years +since we heard that hollow voice outside the window. He has never done +any injury that we know of, and once when he broke a plate, he +brought one back exactly like it.' + +'It is very extraordinary,' exclaimed several of the company. + +'But,' remarked a gentleman to young Mr. Pratt, 'your father said he +broke a plate; how did he get it without your seeing him?' + +'When he asks for some dinner we put it outside the window and go +away; whilst we watch he will not take it, but no sooner have we +withdrawn than it is gone.' + +'How does he know that you are watching?' + +'That's more than I can tell, but he either knows or suspects. One day +my brothers Robert and James with myself were in our back parlour, +which has a window into the garden, when he came outside and said, +"Ho, ho, ho! Master James and Robert and Henry, give poor Teigue a +glass of whisky." James went out of the room, filled a glass with +whisky, vinegar, and salt, and brought it to him. "Here, Teigue," +said he, "come for it now."--"Well, put it down, then, on the step +outside the window." This was done, and we stood looking at it. +"There, now, go away," he shouted. We retired, but still watched it. +"Ho, ho! you are watching Teigue! go out of the room, now, or I won't +take it." We went outside the door and returned, the glass was gone, +and a moment after we heard him roaring and cursing frightfully. He +took away the glass, but the next day it was on the stone step under +the window, and there were crumbs of bread in the inside, as if he had +put it in his pocket; from that time he has not been heard till +to-day.' + +'Oh,' said the colonel, 'I'll get a sight of him; you are not used to +these things; an old soldier has the best chance, and as I shall +finish my dinner with this wing, I'll be ready for him when he speaks +next--Mr. Bell, will you take a glass of wine with me?' + +'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell,' shouted Teigue. 'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, you were a +Quaker long ago. Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, you're a pretty boy! a pretty +Quaker you were; and now you're no Quaker, nor anything else: ho, ho! +Mr. Bell. And there's Mr. Parkes: to be sure, Mr. Parkes looks mighty +fine to-day, with his powdered head, and his grand silk stockings and +his bran-new rakish-red waistcoat. And there's Mr. Cole: did you ever +see such a fellow? A pretty company you've brought together, Mr. +Pratt: kiln-dried Quakers, butter-buying buckeens from Mallow Lane, +and a drinking exciseman from the Coal Quay, to meet the great +thundering artillery general that is come out of the Indies, and is +the biggest dust of them all.' + +'You scoundrel!' exclaimed the colonel, 'I'll make you show yourself'; +and snatching up his sword from a corner of the room, he sprang out of +the window upon the lawn. In a moment a shout of laughter, so hollow, +so unlike any human sound, made him stop, as well as Mr. Bell, who +with a huge oak stick was close at the colonel's heels; others of the +party followed to the lawn, and the remainder rose and went to the +windows. 'Come on, colonel,' said Mr. Bell; 'let us catch this +impudent rascal.' + +'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, here I am--here's Teigue--why don't you catch him? +Ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, what a pretty soldier you are to draw your +sword upon poor Teigue, that never did anybody harm.' + +'Let us see your face, you scoundrel,' said the colonel. + +'Ho, ho, ho!--look at me--look at me: do you see the wind, Colonel +Pratt? you'll see Teigue as soon; so go in and finish your dinner.' + +'If you're upon the earth, I'll find you, you villain!' said the +colonel, whilst the same unearthly shout of derision seemed to come +from behind an angle of the building. 'He's round that corner,' said +Mr. Bell, 'run, run.' + +They followed the sound, which was continued at intervals along the +garden wall, but could discover no human being; at last both stopped +to draw breath, and in an instant, almost at their ears, sounded the +shout-- + +'Ho, ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, do you see Teigue now? do you hear him? +Ho, ho, ho! you're a fine colonel to follow the wind.' + +'Not that way, Mr. Bell--not that way; come here,' said the colonel. + +'Ho, ho, ho! what a fool you are; do you think Teigue is going to show +himself to you in the field, there? But, colonel, follow me if you +can: you a soldier! ho, ho, ho!' The colonel was enraged: he followed +the voice over hedge and ditch, alternately laughed at and taunted by +the unseen object of his pursuit (Mr. Bell, who was heavy, was soon +thrown out); until at length, after being led a weary chase, he found +himself at the top of the cliff, over that part of the river Lee, +which, from its great depth, and the blackness of its water, has +received the name of Hell-hole. Here, on the edge of the cliff, stood +the colonel out of breath, and mopping his forehead with his +handkerchief, while the voice, which seemed close at his feet, +exclaimed, 'Now, Colonel Pratt, now, if you're a soldier, here's a +leap for you! Now look at Teigue--why don't you look at him? Ho, ho, +ho! Come along; you're warm, I'm sure, Colonel Pratt, so come in and +cool yourself; Teigue is going to have a swim!' The voice seemed as if +descending amongst the trailing ivy and brushwood which clothes this +picturesque cliff nearly from top to bottom, yet it was impossible +that any human being could have found footing. 'Now, colonel, have you +courage to take the leap? Ho, ho, ho! what a pretty soldier you are. +Good-bye; I'll see you again in ten minutes above, at the house--look +at your watch, colonel: there's a dive for you'; and a heavy plunge +into the water was heard. The colonel stood still, but no sound +followed, and he walked slowly back to the house, not quite half a +mile from the Crag. + +'Well, did you see Teigue?' said his brother, whilst his nephews, +scarcely able to smother their laughter, stood by. + +'Give me some wine,' said the colonel. 'I never was led such a dance +in my life; the fellow carried me all round and round till he brought +me to the edge of the cliff, and then down he went into Hell-hole, +telling me he'd be here in ten minutes; 'tis more than that now, but +he's not come.' + +'Ho, ho, ho! colonel, isn't he here? Teigue never told a lie in his +life: but, Mr. Pratt, give me a drink and my dinner, and then +good-night to you all, for I'm tired; and that's the colonel's +doing.' A plate of food was ordered; it was placed by John, with fear +and trembling, on the lawn under the window. Every one kept on the +watch, and the plate remained undisturbed for some time. + +'Ah! Mr. Pratt, will you starve poor Teigue? Make every one go away +from the windows, and Master Henry out of the tree, and Master Richard +off the garden wall.' + +The eyes of the company were turned to the tree and the garden wall; +the two boys' attention was occupied in getting down; the visitors +were looking at them; and 'Ho, ho, ho!--good luck to you, Mr. Pratt! +'tis a good dinner, and there's the plate, ladies and gentlemen. +Good-bye to you, colonel!--good-bye, Mr. Bell! good-bye to you all!' +brought their attention back, when they saw the empty plate lying on +the grass; and Teigue's voice was heard no more for that evening. +Many visits were afterwards paid by Teigue; but never was he seen, nor +was any discovery ever made of his person or character. + + + + +THE FAIRY GREYHOUND + + +Paddy M'Dermid was one of the most rollicking boys in the whole county +of Kildare. Fair or pattern[3] wouldn't be held barring he was in the +midst of it. He was in every place, like bad luck, and his poor little +farm was seldom sowed in season; and where he expected barley, there +grew nothing but weeds. Money became scarce in poor Paddy's pocket; +and the cow went after the pig, until nearly all he had was gone. +Lucky however for him, if he had _gomch_ (sense) enough to mind it, he +had a most beautiful dream one night as he lay tossicated (drunk) in +the Rath[4] of Monogue, because he wasn't able to come home. He dreamt +that, under the place where he lay, a pot of money was buried since +long before the memory of man. Paddy kept the dream to himself until +the next night, when, taking a spade and pickaxe, with a bottle of +holy water, he went to the Rath, and, having made a circle round the +place, commenced diggin' sure enough, for the bare life and sowl of +him thinkin' that he was made up for ever and ever. He had sunk about +twice the depth of his knees, when _whack_ the pickaxe struck against +a flag, and at the same time Paddy heard something breathe quite near +him. He looked up, and just fornent him there sat on his haunches a +comely-looking greyhound. + +[Footnote 3: A merry-making in the honour of some patron saint.] + +[Footnote 4: Raths are little fields enclosed by circular ditches. +They are thought to be the sheep-folds and dwellings of an ancient +people.] + +[Illustration: "FORNENT HIM THERE SAT ON HIS HAUNCHES A COMELY-LOOKING +GREYHOUND." (_Page 71._)] + +'God save you,' said Paddy, every hair in his head standing up as +straight as a sally twig. + +'Save you kindly,' answered the greyhound--leaving out God, the beast, +bekase he was the divil. Christ defend us from ever seeing the likes +o' him. + +'Musha, Paddy M'Dermid,' said he, 'what would you be looking after in +that grave of a hole you're diggin' there?' + +'Faith, nothing at all, at all,' answered Paddy; bekase you see he +didn't like the stranger. + +'Arrah, be easy now, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the greyhound; 'don't I +know very well what you are looking for?' + +'Why then in truth, if you do, I may as well tell you at wonst, +particularly as you seem a civil-looking gentleman, that's not above +speaking to a poor gossoon like myself.' (Paddy wanted to butter him +up a bit.) + +'Well then,' said the greyhound, 'come out here and sit down on this +bank,' and Paddy, like a gomulagh (fool), did as he was desired, but +had hardly put his brogue outside of the circle made by the holy +water, when the beast of a hound set upon him, and drove him out of +the Rath; for Paddy was frightened, as well he might, at the fire that +flamed from his mouth. But next night he returned, full sure the money +was there. As before, he made a circle, and touched the flag, when my +gentleman, the greyhound, appeared in the ould place. + +'Oh ho,' said Paddy, 'you are there, are you? but it will be a long +day, I promise you, before you trick me again'; and he made another +stroke at the flag. + +'Well, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the hound, 'since you will have money, +you must; but say, how much will satisfy you?' + +Paddy scratched his conlaan, and after a while said-- + +'How much will your honour give me?' for he thought it better to be +civil. + +'Just as much as you consider reasonable, Paddy M'Dermid.' + +'Egad,' says Paddy to himself, 'there's nothing like axin' enough.' + +'Say fifty thousand pounds,' said he. (He might as well have said a +hundred thousand, for I'll be bail the beast had money gulloure.) + +'You shall have it,' said the hound; and then, after trotting away a +little bit, he came back with a crock full of guineas between his +paws. + +'Come here and reckon them,' said he; but Paddy was up to him, and +refused to stir, so the crock was shoved alongside the blessed and +holy circle, and Paddy pulled it in, right glad to have it in his +clutches, and never stood still until he reached his own home, where +his guineas turned into little bones, and his ould mother laughed at +him. Paddy now swore vengeance against the deceitful beast of a +greyhound, and went next night to the Rath again, where, as before, he +met Mr. Hound. + +'So you are here again, Paddy?' said he. + +'Yes, you big blaggard,' said Paddy, 'and I'll never leave this place +until I pull out the pot of money that's buried here.' + +'Oh, you won't,' said he. 'Well, Paddy M'Dermid, since I see you are +such a brave venturesome fellow I'll be after making you up if you +walk downstairs with me out of the could'; and sure enough it was +snowing like murder. + +'Oh may I never see Athy if I do,' returned Paddy, 'for you only want +to be loading me with ould bones, or perhaps breaking my own, which +would be just as bad.' + +''Pon honour,' said the hound, 'I am your friend; and so don't stand +in your own light; come with me and your fortune is made. Remain where +you are and you'll die a beggar-man.' So bedad, with one palaver and +another, Paddy consented; and in the middle of the Rath opened up a +beautiful staircase, down which they walked; and after winding and +turning they came to a house much finer than the Duke of Leinster's, +in which all the tables and chairs were solid gold. Paddy was +delighted; and after sitting down, a fine lady handed him a glass of +something to drink; but he had hardly swallowed a spoonful when all +around set up a horrid yell, and those who before appeared beautiful +now looked like what they were--enraged 'good people' (fairies). +Before Paddy could bless himself, they seized him, legs and arms, +carried him out to a great high hill that stood like a wall over a +river, and flung him down. 'Murder!' cried Paddy; but it was no use, +no use; he fell upon a rock, and lay there as dead until next morning, +where some people found him in the trench that surrounds the _mote_ of +Coulhall, the 'good people' having carried him there; and from that +hour to the day of his death he was the greatest object in the world. +He walked double, and had his mouth (God bless us) where his ear +should be. + + + + +THE LADY OF GOLLERUS + +BY CROFTON CROKER + + +On the shore of Smerwick harbour, one fine summer's morning, just at +daybreak, stood Dick Fitzgerald 'shoghing the dudeen,' which may be +translated, smoking his pipe. The sun was gradually rising behind the +lofty Brandon, the dark sea was getting green in the light, and the +mists clearing away out of the valleys went rolling and curling like +the smoke from the corner of Dick's mouth. + +''Tis just the pattern of a pretty morning,' said Dick, taking the +pipe from between his lips, and looking towards the distant ocean, +which lay as still and tranquil as a tomb of polished marble. 'Well, +to be sure,' continued he, after a pause, ''tis mighty lonesome to be +talking to one's self by way of company, and not to have another soul +to answer one--nothing but the child of one's own voice, the echo! I +know this, that if I had the luck, or may be the misfortune,' said +Dick, with a melancholy smile, 'to have the woman, it would not be +this way with me! and what in the wide world is a man without a wife? +He's no more surely than a bottle without a drop of drink in it, or +dancing without music, or the left leg of a scissors, or a +fishing-line without a hook, or any other matter that is no ways +complete. Is it not so?' said Dick Fitzgerald, casting his eyes +towards a rock upon the strand, which, though it could not speak, +stood up as firm and looked as bold as ever Kerry witness did. + +But what was his astonishment at beholding, just at the foot of that +rock, a beautiful young creature combing her hair, which was of a +sea-green colour; and now the salt water shining on it appeared, in +the morning light, like melted butter upon cabbage. + +Dick guessed at once that she was a Merrow,[5] although he had never +seen one before, for he spied the _cohuleen driuth_, or little +enchanted cap, which the sea people use for diving down into the +ocean, lying upon the strand near her; and he had heard that, if once +he could possess himself of the cap she would lose the power of going +away into the water: so he seized it with all speed, and she, hearing +the noise, turned her head about as natural as any Christian. + +[Footnote 5: Sea fairy.] + +When the Merrow saw that her little diving-cap was gone, the salt +tears--doubly salt, no doubt, from her--came trickling down her +cheeks, and she began a low mournful cry with just the tender voice +of a new-born infant. Dick, although he knew well enough what she was +crying for, determined to keep the _cohuleen driuth_, let her cry +never so much, to see what luck would come out of it. Yet he could not +help pitying her; and when the dumb thing looked up in his face, with +her cheeks all moist with tears, 'twas enough to make any one feel, +let alone Dick, who had ever and always, like most of his countrymen, +a mighty tender heart of his own. + +'Don't cry, my darling,' said Dick Fitzgerald; but the Merrow, like +any bold child, only cried the more for that. + +Dick sat himself down by her side, and took hold of her hand by way of +comforting her. 'Twas in no particular an ugly hand, only there was a +small web between the fingers, as there is in a duck's foot; but 'twas +as thin and as white as the skin between egg and shell. + +'What's your name, my darling?' says Dick, thinking to make her +conversant with him; but he got no answer; and he was certain sure +now, either that she could not speak, or did not understand him: he +therefore squeezed her hand in his, as the only way he had of talking +to her. It's the universal language; and there's not a woman in the +world, be she fish or lady, that does not understand it. + +The Merrow did not seem much displeased at this mode of conversation; +and making an end of her whining all at once, 'Man,' says she, looking +up in Dick Fitzgerald's face; 'man, will you eat me?' + +'By all the red petticoats and check aprons between Dingle and +Tralee,' cried Dick, jumping up in amazement, 'I'd as soon eat myself, +my jewel! Is it I eat you, my pet? Now, 'twas some ugly ill-looking +thief of a fish put that notion into your own pretty head, with the +nice green hair down upon it, that is so cleanly combed out this +morning!' + +'Man,' said the Merrow, 'what will you do with me if you won't eat +me?' + +Dick's thoughts were running on a wife: he saw, at the first glimpse, +that she was handsome; but since she spoke, and spoke too like any +real woman, he was fairly in love with her. 'Twas the neat way she +called him man that settled the matter entirely. + +'Fish,' says Dick, trying to speak to her after her own short fashion; +'fish,' says he, 'here's my word, fresh and fasting, for you this +blessed morning, that I'll make you Mistress Fitzgerald before all the +world, and that's what I'll do.' + +'Never say the word twice,' says she; 'I'm ready and willing to be +yours, Mister Fitzgerald; but stop, if you please, till I twist up my +hair.' It was some time before she had settled it entirely to her +liking; for she guessed, I suppose, that she was going among +strangers, where she would be looked at. When that was done, the +Merrow put the comb in her pocket, and then bent down her head and +whispered some words to the water that was close to the foot of the +rock. + +Dick saw the murmur of the words upon the top of the sea, going out +towards the wide ocean, just like a breath of wind rippling along, +and, says he, in the greatest wonder, 'Is it speaking you are, my +darling, to the salt water?' + +'It's nothing else,' says she, quite carelessly; 'I'm just sending +word home to my father not to be waiting breakfast for me; just to +keep him from being uneasy in his mind.' + +'And who's your father, my duck?' said Dick. + +'What!' said the Merrow, 'did you never hear of my father? he's the +king of the waves to be sure!' + +'And yourself, then, is a real king's daughter?' said Dick, opening +his two eyes to take a full and true survey of his wife that was to +be. 'Oh, I'm nothing else but a made man with you, and a king your +father; to be sure he has all the money that's down at the bottom of +the sea!' + +'Money,' repeated the Merrow, 'what's money?' + +''Tis no bad thing to have when one wants it,' replied Dick; 'and may +be now the fishes have the understanding to bring up whatever you bid +them?' + +'Oh yes,' said the Merrow, 'they bring me what I want.' + +'To speak the truth then,' said Dick, ''tis a straw bed I have at home +before you, and that, I'm thinking, is no ways fitting for a king's +daughter; so if 'twould not be displeasing to you, just to mention a +nice feather bed, with a pair of new blankets--but what am I talking +about? may be you have not such things as beds down under the water?' + +'By all means,' said she, 'Mr. Fitzgerald--plenty of beds at your +service. I've fourteen oyster-beds of my own, not to mention one just +planting for the rearing of young ones.' + +'You have?' says Dick, scratching his head and looking a little +puzzled. ''Tis a feather bed I was speaking of; but, clearly, yours is +the very cut of a decent plan to have bed and supper so handy to each +other, that a person when they'd have the one need never ask for the +other.' + +However, bed or no bed, money or no money, Dick Fitzgerald determined +to marry the Merrow, and the Merrow had given her consent. Away they +went, therefore, across the strand, from Gollerus to Ballinrunnig, +where Father Fitzgibbon happened to be that morning. + +'There are two words to this bargain, Dick Fitzgerald,' said his +Reverence, looking mighty glum. 'And is it a fishy woman you'd marry? +The Lord preserve us! Send the scaly creature home to her own people; +that's my advice to you, wherever she came from.' + +Dick had the _cohuleen driuth_ in his hand, and was about to give it +back to the Merrow, who looked covetously at it, but he thought for a +moment, and then says he, 'Please your Reverence, she's a king's +daughter.' + +'If she was the daughter of fifty kings,' said Father Fitzgibbon, 'I +tell you, you can't marry her, she being a fish.' + +'Please your Reverence,' said Dick again, in an undertone, 'she is as +mild and as beautiful as the moon.' + +'If she was as mild and as beautiful as the sun, moon, and stars, all +put together, I tell you, Dick Fitzgerald,' said the Priest, stamping +his right foot, 'you can't marry her, she being a fish.' + +'But she has all the gold that's down in the sea only for the asking, +and I'm a made man if I marry her; and,' said Dick, looking up slily, +'I can make it worth any one's while to do the job.' + +'Oh! that alters the case entirely,' replied the Priest; 'why there's +some reason now in what you say: why didn't you tell me this before? +marry her by all means, if she was ten times a fish. Money, you know, +is not to be refused in these bad times, and I may as well have the +hansel of it as another, that may be would not take half the pains in +counselling you that I have done.' + +So Father Fitzgibbon married Dick Fitzgerald to the Merrow, and like +any loving couple, they returned to Gollerus well pleased with each +other. Everything prospered with Dick--he was at the sunny side of the +world; the Merrow made the best of wives, and they lived together in +the greatest contentment. + +It was wonderful to see, considering where she had been brought up, +how she would busy herself about the house, and how well she nursed +the children; for, at the end of three years there were as many young +Fitzgeralds--two boys and a girl. + +In short, Dick was a happy man, and so he might have been to the end +of his days if he had only had the sense to take care of what he had +got; many another man, however, beside Dick, has not had wit enough to +do that. + +One day, when Dick was obliged to go to Tralee, he left the wife +minding the children at home after him, and thinking she had plenty to +do without disturbing his fishing-tackle. + +Dick was no sooner gone than Mrs. Fitzgerald set about cleaning up the +house, and chancing to pull down a fishing-net, what should she find +behind it in a hole in the wall but her own _cohuleen driuth_. She +took it out and looked at it, and then she thought of her father the +king, and her mother the queen, and her brothers and sisters, and she +felt a longing to go back to them. + +She sat down on a little stool and thought over the happy days she had +spent under the sea; then she looked at her children, and thought on +the love and affection of poor Dick, and how it would break his heart +to lose her. 'But,' says she, 'he won't lose me entirely, for I'll +come back to him again, and who can blame me for going to see my +father and my mother after being so long away from them?' + +She got up and went towards the door, but came back again to look once +more at the child that was sleeping in the cradle. She kissed it +gently, and as she kissed it a tear trembled for an instant in her eye +and then fell on its rosy cheek. She wiped away the tear, and turning +to the eldest little girl, told her to take good care of her brothers, +and to be a good child herself until she came back. The Merrow then +went down to the strand. The sea was lying calm and smooth, just +heaving and glittering in the sun, and she thought she heard a faint +sweet singing, inviting her to come down. All her old ideas and +feelings came flooding over her mind, Dick and her children were at +the instant forgotten, and placing the _cohuleen driuth_ on her head +she plunged in. + +Dick came home in the evening, and missing his wife he asked Kathleen, +his little girl, what had become of her mother, but she could not tell +him. He then inquired of the neighbours, and he learned that she was +seen going towards the strand with a strange-looking thing like a +cocked hat in her hand. He returned to his cabin to search for the +_cohuleen driuth_. It was gone, and the truth now flashed upon him. + +Year after year did Dick Fitzgerald wait expecting the return of his +wife, but he never saw her more. Dick never married again, always +thinking that the Merrow would sooner or later return to him, and +nothing could ever persuade him but that her father the king kept her +below by main force; 'for,' said Dick, 'she surely would not of +herself give up her husband and her children.' + +While she was with him she was so good a wife in every respect that to +this day she is spoken of in the tradition of the country as the +pattern for one, under the name of THE LADY OF GOLLERUS. + + + + +EVIL SPIRITS + + + + +THE DEVIL'S MILL + +BY SAMUEL LOVER + + +You see, sir, there was a colonel wanst, in times back, that owned a +power of land about here--but God keep uz, they said he didn't come by +it honestly, but did a crooked turn whenever 'twas to sarve himself. + +Well, the story goes that at last the divil (God bless us) kem to him, +and promised him hapes o' money, and all his heart could desire and +more, too, if he'd sell his sowl in exchange. + +He was too cunnin' for that; bad as he was--and he was bad enough God +knows--he had some regard for his poor sinful sowl, and he would not +give himself up to the divil, all out; but, the villain, he thought he +might make a bargain with the _old chap_, and get all he wanted, and +keep himself out of harm's way still: for he was mighty 'cute--and, +throth, he was able for Owld Nick any day. + +Well, the bargain was struck, and it was this-a-way: the divil was to +give him all the goold ever he'd ask for, and was to let him alone as +long as he could; and the timpter promised him a long day, and said +'twould be a great while before he'd want him at all, at all; and whin +that time kem, he was to keep his hands aff him, as long as the other +could give him some work he couldn't do. + +So, when the bargain was made, 'Now,' says the colonel to the divil, +'give me all the money I want.' + +'As much as you like,' says Owld Nick; 'how much will you have?' + +'You must fill me that room,' says he, pointin' into a murtherin' big +room that he emptied out on purpose--'you must fill that room,' says +he, 'up to the very ceilin' with goolden guineas.' + +'And welkem,' says the divil. + +With that, sir, he began to shovel the guineas into the room like mad; +and the colonel towld him, that as soon as he was done, to come to him +in his own parlour below, and that he would then go up and see if the +divil was as good as his word, and had filled the room with the +goolden guineas. So the colonel went downstairs, and the owld fellow +worked away as busy as a nailer, shovellin' in the guineas by +hundherds and thousands. + +Well, he worked away for an hour and more, and at last he began to get +tired; and he thought it _mighty odd_ that the room wasn't fillin' +fasther. Well, afther restin' for awhile, he began agin, and he put +his shouldher to the work in airnest; but still the room was no +fuller at all, at all. + +'Och! bad luck to me,' says the divil, 'but the likes of this I never +seen,' says he, 'far and near, up and down--the dickens a room I ever +kem across afore,' says he, 'I couldn't cram while a cook would be +crammin' a turkey, till now; and here I am,' says he, 'losin' my whole +day, and I with such a power o' work an my hands yit, and this room no +fuller than five minutes ago.' + +Begor, while he was spakin' he seen the hape o' guineas in the middle +of the flure growing _littler and littler_ every minit; and at last +they wor disappearing, for all the world like corn in the hopper of a +mill. + +'Ho! ho!' says Owld Nick, 'is that the way wid you?' says he; and wid +that, he ran over to the hape of goold--and what would you think, but +it was runnin' down through a great big hole in the flure, that the +colonel made through the ceilin' in the room below; and that was the +work he was at afther he left the divil, though he purtended he was +only waitin' for him in his parlour; and there the divil, when he +looked down the hole in the flure, seen the colonel, not content with +the _two_ rooms full of guineas, but with a big shovel throwin' them +into a closet a' one side of him as fast as they fell down. So, +putting his head through the hole, he called down to the colonel: + +'Hillo, neighbour!' says he. + +The colonel looked up, and grew as white as a sheet, when he seen he +was found out, and the red eyes starin' down at him through the hole. + +'Musha, bad luck to your impudence!' says Owld Nick: 'it is sthrivin' +to chate _me_ you are,' says he, 'you villain!' + +'Oh, forgive me for this wanst!' says the colonel, 'and, upon the +honour of a gintleman,' says he, 'I'll never----' + +'Whisht! whisht! you thievin' rogue,' says the divil, 'I'm not angry +with you at all, at all, but only like you the betther, bekase you're +so cute;--lave off slaving yourself there,' says he, 'you have got +goold enough for this time; and whenever you want more, you have only +to say the word, and it shall be yours to command.' + +So with that, the divil and he parted for that time: and myself +doesn't know whether they used to meet often afther or not; but the +colonel never wanted money, anyhow, but went on prosperous in the +world--and, as the saying is, if he took the dirt out o' the road, it +id turn to money wid him; and so, in course of time, he bought great +estates, and was a great man entirely--not a greater in Ireland, +throth. + +At last, afther many years of prosperity, the owld colonel got +stricken in years, and he began to have misgivings in his conscience +for his wicked doings, and his heart was heavy as the fear of death +came upon him; and sure enough, while he had such murnful thoughts, +the divil kem to him, and towld him _he should go wid him_. + +Well, to be sure, the owld man was frekened, but he plucked up his +courage and his cuteness, and towld the divil, in a bantherin' way, +jokin' like, that he had partic'lar business thin, that he was goin' +to a party, and hoped an _owld friend_ wouldn't inconvaynience him +that-a-way. + +The divil said he'd call the next day, and that he must be ready; and +sure enough in the evenin' he kem to him; and when the colonel seen +him, he reminded him of his bargain that as long as he could give him +some work he couldn't do, he wasn't obleeged to go. + +'That's thrue,' says the divil. + +'I'm glad you're as good as your word, anyhow,' says the colonel. + +'I never bruk my word yit,' says the owld chap, cocking up his horns +consaitedly; 'honour bright,' says he. + +'Well then,' says the colonel, 'build me a mill, down there, by the +river,' says he, 'and let me have it finished by to-morrow mornin'.' + +'Your will is my pleasure,' says the owld chap, and away he wint; and +the colonel thought he had nicked Owld Nick at last, and wint to bed +quite aisy in his mind. + +But, _jewel machree_, sure the first thing he heerd the next mornin' +was that the whole counthry round was runnin' to see a fine bran new +mill that was an the river-side, where the evening before not a thing +at all, at all, but rushes was standin', and all, of coorse, wonderin' +what brought it there; and some sayin' 'twas not lucky, and many more +throubled in their mind, but one and all agreein' it was no _good_; +and that's the very mill forninst you. + +But when the colonel heered it he was more throubled than any, of +coorse, and began to conthrive what else he could think iv to keep +himself out iv the claws of the _owld one_. Well, he often heerd tell +that there was one thing the divil never could do, and I darsay you +heerd it too, sir,--that is, that he couldn't make a rope out of the +sands of the say; and so when the _owld one_ kem to him the next day +and said his job was done, and that now the mill was built he must +either tell him somethin' else he wanted done, or come away wid him. + +So the colonel said he saw it was all over wid him. 'But,' says he, 'I +wouldn't like to go wid you alive, and sure it's all the same to you, +alive or dead?' + +'Oh, that won't do,' says his frind; 'I can't wait no more,' says he. + +'I don't want you to wait, my dear frind,' says the colonel; 'all I +want is, that you'll be plased to kill me before you take me away.' + +'With pleasure,' says Owld Nick. + +'But will you promise me my choice of dyin' one partic'lar way?' says +the colonel. + +'Half a dozen ways, if it plazes you,' says he. + +'You're mighty obleegin',' says the colonel; 'and so,' says he, 'I'd +rather die by bein' hanged with a rope _made out of the sands of the +say_,' says he, lookin' mighty knowin' at the _owld fellow_. + +'I've always one about me,' says the divil, 'to obleege my frinds,' +says he; and with that he pulls out a rope made of sand, sure enough. + +'Oh, it's game you're makin',' says the colonel, growin' as white as a +sheet. + +'The _game is mine_, sure enough,' says the owld fellow, grinnin', +with a terrible laugh. + +'That's not a sand-rope at all,' says the colonel. + +'Isn't it?' says the divil, hittin' him acrass the face with the ind +iv the rope, and the sand (for it _was_ made of sand, sure enough) +went into one of his eyes, and made the tears come with the pain. + +'That bates all I ever seen or heerd,' says the colonel, sthrivin' to +rally and make another offer; 'is there anything you _can't_ do?' + +'Nothing you can tell me,' says the divil, 'so you may as well leave +off your palaverin' and come along at wanst.' + +'Will you give me one more offer,' says the colonel. + +'You don't desarve it,' says the divil; 'but I don't care if I do'; +for you see, sir, he was only playin' wid him, and tantalising the +owld sinner. + +'All fair,' says the colonel, and with that he ax'd him could he stop +a woman's tongue. + +'Thry me,' says Owld Nick. + +'Well then,' says the colonel, 'make my lady's tongue be quiet for the +next month and I'd thank you.' + +'She'll never trouble you agin,' says Owld Nick; and with that the +colonel heerd roarin' and cryin', and the door of his room was thrown +open and in ran his daughter, and fell down at his feet, telling him +her mother had just dhropped dead. + +The minit the door opened, the divil runs and hides himself behind a +big elbow-chair; and the colonel was frekened almost out of his siven +sinses by raison of the sudden death of his poor lady, let alone the +jeopardy he was in himself, seein' how the divil had _forestalled_ him +every way; and after ringin' his bell and callin' to his sarvants and +recoverin' his daughter out of her faint, he was goin' away wid her +out of the room, whin the divil caught howld of him by the skirt of +the coat, and the colonel was obleeged to let his daughter be carried +out by the sarvants, and shut the door afther them. + +'Well,' says the divil, and he grinn'd and wagg'd his tail, all as one +as a dog when he's plaised; 'what do you say now?' says he. + +'Oh,' says the colonel, 'only lave me alone until I bury my poor +wife,' says he, 'and I'll go with you then, you villain,' says he. + +'Don't call names,' says the divil; 'you had better keep a civil +tongue in your head,' says he; 'and it doesn't become a gintleman to +forget good manners.' + +'Well, sir, to make a long story short, the divil purtended to let him +off, out of kindness, for three days antil his wife was buried; but +the raison of it was this, that when the lady his daughter fainted, he +loosened the clothes about her throat, and in pulling some of her +dhress away, he tuk off a goold chain that was on her neck and put it +in his pocket, and the chain had a diamond crass on it (the Lord be +praised!) and the divil darn't touch him while he had _the sign of the +crass_ about him. + +Well, the poor colonel (God forgive him!) was grieved for the loss of +his lady, and she had an _illigant berrin_--and they say that when the +prayers was readin' over the dead, the owld colonel took it to heart +like anything, and the word o' God kem home to his poor sinful sowl at +last. + +Well, sir, to make a long story short, the ind of it was, that for the +three days o' grace that was given to him the poor deluded owld sinner +did nothin' at all but read the Bible from mornin' till night, and bit +or sup didn't pass his lips all the time, he was so intint upon the +Holy Book, but he sat up in an owld room in the far ind of the house, +and bid no one disturb him an no account, and struv to make his heart +bould with the words iv life; and sure it was somethin' strinthened +him at last, though as the time drew nigh that the _inimy_ was to +come, he didn't feel aisy, and no wondher; and, bedad the three days +was past and gone in no time, and the story goes that at the dead hour +o' the night, when the poor sinner was readin' away as fast as he +could, my jew'l, his heart jumped up to his mouth at gettin' a tap on +the shoulder. + +'Oh, murther!' says he, 'who's there?' for he was afeard to look up. + +'It's me,' says the _owld one_, and he stood right forninst him, and +his eyes like coals o' fire, lookin' him through, and he said, with a +voice that almost split his owld heart, 'Come!' says he. + +'Another day!' cried out the poor colonel. + +'Not another hour,' says Sat'n. + +'Half an hour!' + +'Not a quarther,' says the divil, grinnin' with a bitther laugh; +'give over your reading I bid you,' says he, 'and come away wid me.' + +'Only gi' me a few minits,' says he. + +'Lave aff your palaverin' you snakin' owld sinner,' says Sat'n; 'you +know you're bought and sould to me, and a purty bargain I have o' you, +you owld baste,' says he; 'so come along at wanst,' and he put out his +claw to ketch him; but the colonel tuk a fast hould o' the Bible, and +begged hard that he'd let him alone, and wouldn't harm him antil the +bit o' candle that was just blinkin' in the socket before him was +burned out. + +'Well, have it so, you dirty coward,' says Owld Nick, and with that he +spit an him. + +But the poor owld colonel didn't lose a minit (for he was cunnin' to +the ind), but snatched the little taste o' candle that was forninst +him out o' the candlestick, and puttin' it an the Holy Book before +him, he shut down the cover of it and quinched the light. With that +the divil gave a roar like a bull, and vanished in a flash o' fire, +and the poor colonel fainted away in his chair; but the sarvants heerd +the noise (for the divil tore aff the roof o' the house when he left +it), and run into the room, and brought their master to himself agin. +And from that day he was an althered man, and used to have the Bible +read to him every day, for he couldn't read himself any more, by +raison of losin' his eyesight when the divil hit him with the rope of +sand in the face, and afther spit an him--for the sand wint into one +eye, and he lost the other that-a-way, savin' your presence. + + + + +FERGUS O'MARA AND THE AIR-DEMONS + +BY DR. P. W. JOYCE + + +Of all the different kinds of goblins that haunted the lonely places +of Ireland in days of old, air-demons were most dreaded by the people. +They lived among clouds, and mists, and rocks, and they hated the +human race with the utmost malignity. In those times lived in the +north of Desmond (the present county of Cork) a man man named Fergus +O'Mara. His farm lay on the southern slope of the Ballyhoura +Mountains, along which ran the open road that led to his house. This +road was not shut in by walls or fences; but on both sides there were +scattered trees and bushes that sheltered it in winter, and made it +dark and gloomy when you approached the house at night. Beside the +road, a little way off from the house, there was a spot that had an +evil name all over the country, a little hill covered closely with +copsewood, with a great craggy rock on top, from which, on stormy +nights, strange and fearful sounds had often been heard--shrill +voices, and screams, mingled with loud fiendish laughter; and the +people believed that it was the haunt of air-demons. In some way it +had become known that these demons had an eye on Fergus, and watched +for every opportunity to get him into their power. He had himself been +warned of this many years before, by an old monk from the neighbouring +monastery of Buttevant, who told him, moreover, that so long as he +led a blameless, upright life, he need have no fear of the demons; but +that if ever he yielded to temptation or fell into any great sin, then +would come the opportunity for which they were watching day and night. +He never forgot this warning, and he was very careful to keep himself +straight, both because he was naturally a good man, and for fear of +the air-demons. + +Some time before the occurrence about to be related, one of Fergus's +children, a sweet little girl about seven years of age, fell ill and +died. The little thing gradually wasted away, but suffered no pain; +and as she grew weaker she became more loving and gentle than ever, +and talked in a wonderful way, quite beyond her years, of the bright +land she was going to. One thing she was particularly anxious about, +that when she was dying they should let her hold a blessed candle in +her hand. They thought it very strange that she should be so +continually thinking and talking of this; and over and over again she +made her father and mother promise that it should be done. And with +the blessed candle in her hand she died so calmly and sweetly that +those round her bed could not tell the exact moment. + +About a year after this, on a bright Sunday morning in October, Fergus +set out for Mass. The place was about three miles away, and it was not +a chapel,[6] but a lonely old fort, called to this day Lissanaffrin, +the fort of the Mass. A rude stone altar stood at one side near the +mound of the fort, under a little shed that sheltered the priest also; +and the congregation worshipped in the open air on the green plot in +the centre. For in those days there were many places that had no +chapels; and the people flocked to these open-air Masses as +faithfully as we do now to our stately comfortable chapels. The family +had gone on before, the men walking and the women and children riding; +and Fergus set out to walk alone. + +[Footnote 6: A fort is the same as a rath (see p. 70); a few are +fenced in with unmortared stone walls instead of clay ditches.] + +Just as he approached the Demons' Rock he was greatly surprised to +hear the eager yelping of dogs, and in a moment a great deer bounded +from the covert beside the rock, with three hounds after her in full +chase. No man in the whole country round loved a good chase better +than Fergus, or had a swifter foot to follow, and without a moment's +hesitation he started in pursuit. But in a few minutes he stopped up +short; for he bethought him of the Mass, and he knew there was little +time for delay. While he stood wavering, the deer seemed to slacken +her pace, and the hounds gained on her, and in a moment Fergus dashed +off at full speed, forgetting Mass and everything else in his +eagerness for the sport. But it turned out a long and weary chase. +Sometimes they slackened, and he was almost at the hounds' tails, but +the next moment both deer and hounds started forward and left him far +behind. Sometimes they were in full view, and again they were out of +sight in thickets and deep glens, so that he could guide himself only +by the cry of the hounds. In this way he was decoyed across hills and +glens, but instead of gaining ground he found himself rather falling +behind. + +Mass was all over and the people dispersed to their homes, and all +wondered that they did not see Fergus; for no one could remember that +he was ever absent before. His wife returned, expecting to find him at +home; but when she arrived there was trouble in her heart, for there +were no tidings of him, and no one had seen him since he had set out +for Mass in the morning. + +Meantime Fergus followed up the chase till he was wearied out; and at +last, just on the edge of a wild moor, both deer and hounds +disappeared behind a shoulder of rock, and he lost them altogether. At +the same moment the cry of the hounds became changed to frightful +shrieks and laughter, such as he had heard more than once from the +Demons' Rock. And now, sitting down on a bank to rest, he had full +time to reflect on what he had done, and he was overwhelmed with +remorse and shame. Moreover, his heart sank within him, thinking of +the last sounds he had heard; for he believed that he had been allured +from Mass by the cunning wiles of the demons, and he feared that the +dangerous time had come foretold by the monk. He started up and set +out for his home, hoping to reach it before night. But before he had +got half-way night fell and a storm came on, great wind and rain and +bursts of thunder and lightning. Fergus was strong and active, +however, and knew every turn of the mountain, and he made his way +through the storm till he approached the Demons' Rock. + +Suddenly there burst on his ears the very same sounds that he had +heard on losing sight of the chase--shouts and shrieks and laughter. A +great black ragged cloud, whirling round and round with furious gusts +of wind, burst from the rock and came sweeping and tearing towards +him. Crossing himself in terror and uttering a short prayer, he rushed +for home. But the whirlwind swept nearer, till at last, in a sort of +dim, shadowy light, he saw the black cloud full of frightful faces, +all glaring straight at him and coming closer and closer. At this +moment a bright light dropped down from the sky and rested in front of +the cloud; and when he looked up, he saw his little child floating in +the air between him and the demons, holding a lighted candle in her +hand. And although the storm was raging and roaring all round, she +was quite calm--not a breath of air stirred her long yellow hair--and +the candle burned quietly. Even in the midst of all his terror he +could observe her pale gentle face and blue eyes just as when she was +alive, not showing traces of sickness or sadness now, but lighted up +with joy. The demons seemed to start back from the light, and with +great uproar rushed round to the other side of Fergus, the black cloud +still moving with them and wrapping them up in its ragged folds; but +the little angel floated softly round, still keeping between them and +her father. Fergus ran on for home, and the cloud of demons still kept +furiously whirling round and round him, bringing with them a whirlwind +that roared among the trees and bushes and tore them from the roots; +but still the child, always holding the candle towards them, kept +floating calmly round and shielded him. + +At length he arrived at his house; the door lay half-open, for the +family were inside expecting him home, listening with wonder and +affright to the approaching noises; and he bounded in through the +doorway and fell flat on his face. That instant the door--though no +one was near--was shut violently, and the bolts were shot home. They +hurried anxiously round him to lift him up, but found him in a +death-like swoon. Meantime the uproar outside became greater than +ever; round and round the house it tore, a roaring whirlwind with +shouts and yells of rage, and great trampling, as if there was a whole +company of horsemen. At length, however, the noises seemed to move +away farther and farther off from the house, and gradually died away +in the distance. At the same time the storm ceased, and the night +became calm and beautiful. + +The daylight was shining in through the windows when Fergus recovered +from his swoon, and then he told his fearful story; but many days +passed over before he had quite recovered from the horrors of that +night. When the family came forth in the morning there was fearful +waste all round and near the house, trees and bushes torn from the +roots, and the ground all trampled and torn up. After this the revelry +of the demons was never again heard from the rock; and it was believed +that they had left it and betaken themselves to some other haunt. + + + + +THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW FEAR + +TRANSLATED FROM THE GAELIC BY DOUGLAS HYDE + + +There was once a lady, and she had two sons whose names were Louras +(Lawrence) and Carrol. From the day that Lawrence was born nothing +ever made him afraid, but Carrol would never go outside the door from +the time the darkness of the night began. + +It was the custom at that time when a person died for people to watch +the dead person's grave in turn, one after another; for there used to +be destroyers going about stealing the corpses. + +When the mother of Carrol and Lawrence died, Carrol said to Lawrence-- + +'You say that nothing ever made you afraid yet, but I'll make a bet +with you that you haven't courage to watch your mother's tomb +to-night.' + +'I'll make a bet with you that I have,' said Lawrence. + +When the darkness of the night was coming, Lawrence put on his sword +and went to the burying-ground. He sat down on a tombstone near his +mother's grave till it was far in the night and sleep was coming upon +him. Then he saw a big black thing coming to him, and when it came +near him he saw that it was a head without a body that was in it. He +drew the sword to give it a blow if it should come any nearer, but it +didn't come. Lawrence remained looking at it until the light of the +day was coming, then the head-without-body went, and Lawrence came +home. + +Carrol asked him, did he see anything in the graveyard. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and my mother's body would be gone, but that +I was guarding it.' + +'Was it dead or alive, the person you saw?' said Carrol. + +'I don't know was it dead or alive,' said Lawrence; 'there was nothing +in it but a head without a body.' + +'Weren't you afraid?' says Carrol. + +'Indeed I wasn't,' said Lawrence; 'don't you know that nothing in the +world ever put fear on me.' + +'I'll bet again with you that you haven't the courage to watch +to-night again,' says Carrol. + +'I would make that bet with you,' said Lawrence, 'but that there is a +night's sleep wanting to me. Go yourself to-night.' + +'I wouldn't go to the graveyard to-night if I were to get the riches +of the world,' says Carrol. + +'Unless you go your mother's body will be gone in the morning,' says +Lawrence. + +'If only you watch to-night and to-morrow night, I never will ask of +you to do a turn of work as long as you will be alive,' said Carrol, +'but I think there is fear on you.' + +'To show you that there's no fear on me,' said Lawrence, 'I will +watch.' + +He went to sleep, and when the evening came he rose up, put on his +sword, and went to the graveyard. He sat on a tombstone near his +mother's grave. About the middle of the night he heard a great sound +coming. A big black thing came as far as the grave and began rooting +up the clay. Lawrence drew back his sword, and with one blow he made +two halves of the big black thing, and with the second blow he made +two halves of each half, and he saw it no more. + +Lawrence went home in the morning, and Carrol asked him did he see +anything. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and only that I was there my mother's body +would be gone.' + +'Is it the head-without-body that came again?' said Carrol. + +'It was not, but a big black thing, and it was digging up my mother's +grave until I made two halves of it.' + +Lawrence slept that day, and when the evening came he rose up, put on +his sword, and went to the churchyard. He sat down on a tombstone +until it was the middle of the night. Then he saw a thing as white as +snow and as hateful as sin; it had a man's head on it, and teeth as +long as a flax-carder. Lawrence drew back the sword and was going to +deal it a blow, when it said-- + +'Hold your hand; you have saved your mother's body, and there is not a +man in Ireland as brave as you. There is great riches waiting for you +if you go looking for it.' + +Lawrence went home, and Carrol asked him did he see anything. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and but that I was there my mother's body +would be gone, but there's no fear of it now.' + +In the morning, the day on the morrow, Lawrence said to Carrol-- + +'Give me my share of money, and I'll go on a journey, until I have a +look round the country.' + +Carrol gave him the money, and he went walking. He went on until he +came to a large town. He went into the house of a baker to get bread. +The baker began talking to him, and asked him how far he was going. + +'I am going looking for something that will put fear on me,' said +Lawrence. + +'Have you much money?' said the baker. + +'I have a half-hundred pounds,' said Lawrence. + +'I'll bet another half-hundred with you that there will be fear on you +if you go to the place that I'll bid you,' says the baker. + +'I'll take your bet,' said Lawrence, 'if only the place is not too far +away from me.' + +'It's not a mile from the place where you're standing,' said the +baker; 'wait here till the night comes, and then go to the graveyard, +and as a sign that you were in it, bring me the goblet that is upon +the altar of the old church (_cill_) that is in the graveyard.' + +When the baker made the bet he was certain that he would win, for +there was a ghost in the churchyard, and nobody went into it for forty +years before that whom he did not kill. + +When the darkness of the night came, Lawrence put on his sword and +went to the burying-ground. He came to the door of the churchyard and +struck it with his sword. The door opened, and there came out a great +black ram, and two horns on him as long as flails. Lawrence gave him a +blow, and he went out of sight, leaving him up to the two ankles in +blood. Lawrence went into the old church, got the goblet, came back to +the baker's house, gave him the goblet, and got the bet. Then the +baker asked him did he see anything in the churchyard. + +'I saw a big black ram with long horns on him,' said Lawrence, 'and I +gave him a blow which drew as much blood out of him as would swim a +boat; sure he must be dead by this time.' + +In the morning, the day on the morrow, the baker and a lot of people +went to the graveyard and they saw the blood of the black ram at the +door. They went to the priest and told him that the black ram was +banished out of the churchyard. The priest did not believe them, +because the churchyard was shut up forty years before that on account +of the ghost that was in it, and neither priest nor friar could banish +him. The priest came with them to the door of the churchyard, and when +he saw the blood he took courage and sent for Lawrence, and heard the +story from his own mouth. Then he sent for his blessing-materials, and +desired the people to come in till he read mass for them. The priest +went in, and Lawrence and the people after him, and he read mass +without the big black ram coming as he used to do. The priest was +greatly rejoiced, and gave Lawrence another fifty pounds. + +On the morning of the next day Lawrence went on his way. He travelled +the whole day without seeing a house. About the hour of midnight he +came to a great lonely valley, and he saw a large gathering of people +looking at two men hurling. Lawrence stood looking at them, as there +was a bright light from the moon. It was the good people that were in +it, and it was not long until one of them struck a blow on the ball +and sent it into Lawrence's breast. He put his hand in after the ball +to draw it out, and what was there in it but the head of a man. When +Lawrence got a hold of it, it began screeching, and at last it asked +Lawrence-- + +'Are you not afraid?' + +'Indeed I am not,' said Lawrence, and no sooner was the word spoken +than both head and people disappeared, and he was left in the glen +alone by himself. + +He journeyed until he came to another town, and when he ate and drank +enough, he went out on the road, and was walking until he came to a +great house on the side of the road. As the night was closing in, he +went in to try if he could get lodging. There was a young man at the +door who said to him-- + +'How far are you going, or what are you in search of?' + +'I do not know how far I am going, but I am in search of something +that will put fear on me,' said Lawrence. + +'You have not far to go, then,' said the young man; 'if you stop in +that big house on the other side of the road there will be fear put on +you before morning, and I'll give you twenty pounds into the bargain.' + +'I'll stop in it,' said Lawrence. + +The young man went with him, opened the door, and brought him into a +large room in the bottom of the house, and said to him, 'Put down fire +for yourself and I'll send you plenty to eat and drink.' He put down a +fire for himself, and there came a girl to him and brought him +everything that he wanted. + +He went on very well, until the hour of midnight came, and then he +heard a great sound over his head, and it was not long until a +stallion and a bull came in and commenced to fight. Lawrence never put +to them nor from them, and when they were tired fighting they went +out. Lawrence went to sleep, and he never awoke until the young man +came in in the morning, and he was surprised when he saw Lawrence +alive. He asked him had he seen anything. + +'I saw a stallion and a bull fighting hard for about two hours,' said +Lawrence. + +'And weren't you afraid?' said the young man. + +'I was not,' says Lawrence. + +'If you wait to-night again, I'll give you another twenty pounds,' +says the young man. + +'I'll wait, and welcome,' says Lawrence. + +The second night, about ten o'clock, Lawrence was going to sleep, when +two black rams came in and began fighting hard. Lawrence neither put +to them nor from them, and when twelve o'clock struck they went out. +The young man came in the morning and asked him did he see anything +last night. + +'I saw two black rams fighting,' said Lawrence. + +'Were you afraid at all?' said the young man. + +'I was not,' said Lawrence. + +'Wait to-night, and I'll give you another twenty pounds,' says the +young man. + +'All right,' says Lawrence. + +The third night he was falling asleep, when there came in a gray old +man and said to him-- + +'You are the best hero in Ireland; I died twenty years ago, and all +that time I have been in search of a man like you. Come with me now +till I show you your riches; I told you when you were watching your +mother's grave that there was great riches waiting for you.' + +He took Lawrence to a chamber under ground, and showed him a large pot +filled with gold, and said to him-- + +'You will have all that if you give twenty pounds to Mary Kerrigan the +widow, and get her forgiveness for me for a wrong I did her. Then buy +this house, marry my daughter, and you will be happy and rich as long +as you live.' + +The next morning the young man came to Lawrence and asked him did he +see anything last night. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and it's certain that there will be a ghost +always in it, but nothing in the world would frighten me; I'll buy the +house and the land round it, if you like.' + +'I'll ask no price for the house, but I won't part with the land under +a thousand pounds, and I'm sure you haven't that much.' + +'I have more than would buy all the land and all the herds you have,' +said Lawrence. + +When the young man heard that Lawrence was so rich, he invited him to +come to dinner. Lawrence went with him, and when the dead man's +daughter saw him she fell in love with him. + +Lawrence went to the house of Mary Kerrigan and gave her twenty +pounds, and got her forgiveness for the dead man. Then he married the +young man's sister and spent a happy life. He died as he lived, +without there being fear on him. + + + + +CATS + + + + +SEANCHAN THE BARD AND THE KING OF THE CATS + +BY LADY WILDE + + +When Seanchan, the renowned Bard, was made _Ard-Filé_ or Chief Poet of +Ireland, Guaire, the king of Connaught, to do him honour, made a great +feast for him and the whole Bardic Association. And all the professors +and learned men went to the king's house, the great ollaves of poetry +and history and music, and of the arts and sciences; and the learned, +aged females, Grug and Grag and Grangait; and all the chief poets and +poetesses of Ireland, an amazing number. But Guaire the king +entertained them all splendidly, so that the ancient pathway to his +palace is still called 'The Road of the Dishes.' + +And each day he asked, 'How fares it with my noble guests?' But they +were all discontented, and wanted things he could not get for them. So +he was very sorrowful, and prayed to God to be delivered from 'the +learned men and women, a vexatious class.' + +Still the feast went on for three days and three nights. And they +drank and made merry. And the whole Bardic Association entertained the +nobles with the choicest music and professional accomplishments. + +But Seanchan sulked and would neither eat nor drink, for he was +jealous of the nobles of Connaught. And when he saw how much they +consumed of the best meats and wine, he declared he would taste no +food till they and their servants were all sent away out of the +house. + +And when Guaire asked him again, 'How fares my noble guest, and this +great and excellent people?' Seanchan answered, 'I have never had +worse days, nor worse nights, nor worse dinners in my life.' And he +ate nothing for three whole days. + +Then the king was sorely grieved that the whole Bardic Association +should be feasting and drinking while Seanchan, the chief poet of +Erin, was fasting and weak. So he sent his favourite serving-man, a +person of mild manners and cleanliness, to offer special dishes to the +bard. + +'Take them away,' said Seanchan; 'I'll have none of them.' + +'And why, O Royal Bard?' asked the servitor. + +'Because thou art an uncomely youth,' answered Seanchan. 'Thy +grandfather was chip-nailed--I have seen him; I shall eat no food from +thy hands.' + +Then the king called a beautiful maiden to him, his foster-daughter, +and said, 'Lady, bring thou this wheaten cake and this dish of salmon +to the illustrious poet, and serve him thyself.' So the maiden went. + +But when Seanchan saw her he asked: 'Who sent thee hither, and why +hast thou brought me food?' + +'My lord the king sent me, O Royal Bard,' she answered, 'because I am +comely to look upon, and he bade me serve thee with food myself.' + +'Take it away,' said Seanchan, 'thou art an unseemly girl, I know of +none more ugly. I have seen thy grandmother; she sat on a wall one day +and pointed out the way with her hand to some travelling lepers. How +could I touch thy food?' So the maiden went away in sorrow. + +And then Guaire the king was indeed angry, and he exclaimed, 'My +malediction on the mouth that uttered that! May the kiss of a leper +be on Seanchan's lips before he dies!' + +Now there was a young serving-girl there, and she said to Seanchan, +'There is a hen's egg in the place, my lord, may I bring it to thee, O +Chief Bard?' + +'It will suffice,' said Seanchan; 'bring it that I may eat.' + +But when she went to look for it, behold the egg was gone. + +'Thou hast eaten it,' said the bard, in wrath. + +'Not so, my lord,' she answered; 'but the mice, the nimble race, have +carried it away.' + +'Then I will satirise them in a poem,' said Seanchan; and forthwith he +chanted so bitter a satire against them that ten mice fell dead at +once in his presence. + +''Tis well,' said Seanchan; 'but the cat is the one most to blame, for +it was her duty to suppress the mice. Therefore I shall satirise the +tribe of the cats, and their chief lord, Irusan, son of Arusan; for I +know where he lives with his wife Spit-fire, and his daughter +Sharp-tooth, with her brothers the Purrer and the Growler. But I shall +begin with Irusan himself, for he is king, and answerable for all the +cats.' + +And he said: 'Irusan, monster of claws, who strikes at the mouse but +lets it go; weakest of cats. The otter did well who bit off the tips +of thy progenitor's ears, so that every cat since is jagged-eared. Let +thy tail hang down; it is right, for the mouse jeers at thee.' + +Now Irusan heard these words in his cave, and he said to his daughter +Sharp-tooth: 'Seanchan has satirised me, but I will be avenged.' + +'Nay, father,' she said, 'bring him here alive that we may all take +our revenge.' + +'I shall go then and bring him,' said Irusan; 'so send thy brothers +after me. + +Now when it was told to Seanchan that the King of the Cats was on his +way to come and kill him, he was timorous, and besought Guaire and all +the nobles to stand by and protect him. And before long a vibrating, +impressive, impetuous sound was heard, like a raging tempest of fire +in full blaze. And when the cat appeared he seemed to them of the size +of a bullock; and this was his appearance--rapacious, panting, +jagged-eared, snub-nosed, sharp-toothed, nimble, angry, vindictive, +glare-eyed, terrible, sharp-clawed. Such was his similitude. But he +passed on amongst them, not minding till he came to Seanchan; and him +he seized by the arm and jerked him up on his back, and made off the +way he came before any one could touch him; for he had no other object +in view but to get hold of the poet. + +Now Seanchan, being in evil plight, had recourse to flattery. 'O +Irusan,' he exclaimed, 'how truly splendid thou art: such running, +such leaps, such strength, and such agility! But what evil have I +done, O Irusan, son of Arusan? spare me, I entreat. I invoke the +saints between thee and me, O great King of the Cats.' + +But not a bit did the cat let go his hold for all this fine talk, but +went straight on to Clonmacnoise, where there was a forge; and St. +Kieran happened to be there standing at the door. + +'What!' exclaimed the saint; 'is that the Chief Bard of Erin on the +back of a cat? Has Guaire's hospitality ended in this?' And he ran for +a red-hot bar of iron that was in the furnace, and struck the cat on +the side with it, so that the iron passed through him, and he fell +down lifeless. + +'Now my curse on the hand that gave that blow!' said the bard, when he +got upon his feet. + +'And wherefore?' asked St. Kieran. + +'Because,' answered Seanchan, 'I would rather Irusan had killed me, +and eaten me every bit, that so I might bring disgrace on Guaire for +the bad food he gave me; for it was all owing to his wretched dinners +that I got into this plight.' + +And when all the other kings heard of Seanchan's misfortunes, they +sent to beg he would visit their courts. But he would have neither +kiss nor welcome from them, and went on his way to the bardic mansion, +where the best of good living was always to be had. And ever after the +kings were afraid to offend Seanchan. + +So as long as he lived he had the chief place at the feast, and all +the nobles there were made to sit below him, and Seanchan was content. +And in time he and Guaire were reconciled; and Seanchan and all the +ollaves, and the whole Bardic Association, were feasted by the king +for thirty days in noble style, and had the choicest of viands and +the best of French wines to drink, served in goblets of silver. And in +return for his splendid hospitality the Bardic Association decreed +unanimously a vote of thanks to the king. And they praised him in +poems as 'Guaire the Generous,' by which name he was ever after known +in history, for the words of the poet are immortal. + + + + +OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK + +BY GERALD GRIFFEN + + +When Ireland had kings of her own--when there was no such thing as a +coat made of red cloth in the country--when there was plenty in men's +houses, and peace and quietness at men's doors (and that is a long +time since)--there lived, in a village not far from the great city of +Lumneach,[7] two young men, cousins: one of them named Owney, a smart, +kind-hearted, handsome youth, with limb of a delicate form, and a very +good understanding. His cousin's name was Owney too, and the +neighbours christened him Owney-na-peak (Owney of the nose), on +account of a long nose he had got--a thing so out of all proportion, +that after looking at one side of his face, it was a smart morning's +walk to get round the nose and take a view of the other (at least, so +the people used to say). He was a stout, able-bodied fellow, as stupid +as a beaten hound, and he was, moreover, a cruel tyrant to his young +cousin, with whom he lived in a kind of partnership. + +[Footnote 7: The present Limerick.] + +Both of them were of a humble station. They were +smiths--white-smiths--and they got a good deal of business to do from +the lords of the court, and the knights, and all the grand people of +the city. But one day young Owney was in town, he saw a great +procession of lords, and ladies, and generals, and great people, among +whom was the king's daughter of the court--and surely it is not +possible for the young rose itself to be so beautiful as she was. His +heart fainted at her sight, and he went home desperately in love, and +not at all disposed to business. + +Money, he was told, was the surest way of getting acquainted with the +king, and so he began saving until he had put together a few +_hogs_,[8] but Owney-na-peak, finding where he had hid them, seized on +the whole, as he used to do on all young Owney's earnings. + +[Footnote 8: A _hog_, 1s. 1d.] + +One evening young Owney's mother found herself about to die, so she +called her son to her bedside and said to him: 'You have been a most +dutiful good son, and 'tis proper you should be rewarded for it. Take +this china cup to the fair,--there is a fairy gift upon it,--use your +own wit, look about you, and let the highest bidder have it--and so, +my white-headed boy,[9] God bless you!' + +[Footnote 9: White-haired boy, a curious Irish phrase for the +favourite child.] + +The young man drew the little bedcurtain down over his dead mother, +and in a few days after, with a heavy heart, he took his china cup, +and set off to the fair of Garryowen. + +The place was merry enough. The field that is called Gallows Green now +was covered with tents. There was plenty of wine (poteen not being +known in these days, let alone _parliament_), a great many handsome +girls, and 'tis unknown all the _keoh_ that was with the boys and +themselves. Poor Owney walked all the day through the fair, wishing to +try his luck, but ashamed to offer his china cup among all the fine +things that were there for sale. Evening was drawing on at last, and +he was thinking of going home, when a strange man tapped him on the +shoulder, and said: 'My good youth, I have been marking you through +the fair the whole day, going about with that cup in your hand, +speaking to nobody, and looking as if you would be wanting something +or another.' + +'I'm for selling it,' said Owney. + +'What is it you're for selling, you say?' said a second man, coming +up, and looking at the cup. + +'Why then,' said the first man, 'and what's that to you, for a prying +meddler? what do you want to know what it is he's for selling?' + +'Bad manners to you (and where's the use of my wishing you what you +have already?), haven't I a right to ask the price of what's in the +fair?' + +'E'then, the knowledge o' the price is all you'll have for it,' says +the first. 'Here, my lad, is a golden piece for your cup.' + +'That cup shall never hold drink or diet in your house, please +Heaven,' says the second; 'here's two gold pieces for the cup, lad.' + +'Why then, see this now--if I was forced to fill it to the rim with +gold before I could call it mine, you shall never hold that cup +between your fingers. Here, boy, do you mind me, give me that, once +for all, and here's ten gold pieces for it, and say no more.' + +'Ten gold pieces for a china cup!' said a great lord of the court, who +just rode up at that minute, 'it must surely be a valuable article. +Here, boy, here are twenty pieces for it, and give it to my servant.' + +'Give it to mine,' cried another lord of the party, 'and here's my +purse, where you will find ten more. And if any man offers another +fraction for it to outbid that, I'll spit him on my sword like a +snipe.' + +'I outbid him,' said a fair young lady in a veil, by his side, +flinging twenty golden pieces more on the ground. + +There was no voice to outbid the lady, and young Owney, kneeling, gave +the cup into her hands. + +'Fifty gold pieces for a china cup,' said Owney to himself, as he +plodded on home, 'that was not worth two! Ah! mother, you knew that +vanity had an open hand.' + +But as he drew near home he determined to hide his money somewhere, +knowing, as he well did, that his cousin would not leave him a single +cross to bless himself with. So he dug a little pit, and buried all +but two pieces, which he brought to the house. His cousin, knowing the +business on which he had gone, laughed heartily when he saw him enter, +and asked him what luck he had got with his punch-bowl. + +'Not so bad, neither,' says Owney. 'Two pieces of gold is not a bad +price for an article of old china.' + +'Two gold pieces, Owney, honey! Erra, let us see 'em, maybe you +would?' He took the cash from Owney's hand, and after opening his eyes +in great astonishment at the sight of so much money, he put them into +his pocket. + +'Well, Owney, I'll keep them safe for you, in my pocket within. But +tell us, maybe you would, how come you to get such a _mort_ o' money +for an old cup o' painted chaney, that wasn't worth, maybe, a fi'penny +bit?' + +'To get into the heart o' the fair, then, free and easy, and to look +about me, and to cry old china, and the first man that _come_ up, he +to ask me, what is it I'd be asking for the cup, and I to say out +bold: "A hundred pieces of gold," and he to laugh hearty, and we to +huxter together till he beat me down to two, and there's the whole way +of it all.' + +Owney-na-peak made as if he took no note of this, but next morning +early he took an old china saucer himself had in his cupboard, and off +he set, without saying a word to anybody, to the fair. You may easily +imagine that it created no small surprise in the place when they heard +a great big fellow with a china saucer in his hand crying out: 'A raal +_chaney_ saucer going for a hundred pieces of goold! raal +chaney--who'll be buying?' + +'Erra, what's that you're saying, you great gomeril?' says a man, +coming up to him, and looking first at the saucer and then in his +face. 'Is it thinking anybody would go make a _muthaun_ of himself to +give the like for that saucer?' But Owney-na-peak had no answer to +make, only to cry out: 'Raal chaney! one hundred pieces of goold!' + +A crowd soon collected about him, and finding he would give no account +of himself, they all fell upon him, beat him within an inch of his +life, and after having satisfied themselves upon him, they went their +way laughing and shouting. Towards sunset he got up, and crawled home +as well as he could, without cup or money. As soon as Owney saw him, +he helped him into the forge, looking very mournful, although, if the +truth must be told, it was to revenge himself for former good deeds of +his cousin that he set him about this foolish business. + +'Come here, Owney, eroo,' said his cousin, after he had fastened the +forge door and heated two irons in the fire. 'You child of mischief!' +said he, when he had caught him, 'you shall never see the fruits of +your roguery again, for I will put out your eyes.' And so saying he +snatched one of the red-hot irons from the fire. + +It was all in vain for poor Owney to throw himself on his knees, and +ask mercy, and beg and implore forgiveness; he was weak, and +Owney-na-peak was strong; he held him fast, and burned out both his +eyes. Then taking him, while he was yet fainting from the pain, upon +his back, he carried him off to the bleak hill of Knockpatrick,[10] a +great distance, and there laid him under a tombstone, and went his +ways. In a little time after, Owney came to himself. + +[Footnote 10: A hill in the west of the County of Limerick, on the +summit of which are the ruins of an old church, with a burying-ground +still in use. The situation is exceedingly singular and bleak.] + +'O sweet light of day! what is to become of me now?' thought the poor +lad, as he lay on his back under the tomb. 'Is this to be the fruit of +that unhappy present? Must I be dark for ever and ever? and am I never +more to look upon that sweet countenance, that even in my blindness is +not entirely shut out from me?' He would have said a great deal more +in this way, and perhaps more pathetic still, but just then he heard a +great mewing, as if all the cats in the world were coming up the hill +together in one faction. He gathered himself up, and drew back under +the stone, and remained quite still, expecting what would come next. +In a very short time he heard all the cats purring and mewing about +the yard, whisking over the tombstones, and playing all sorts of +pranks among the graves. He felt the tails of one or two brush his +nose; and well for him it was that they did not discover him there, +as he afterwards found. At last-- + +'Silence!' said one of the cats, and they were all as mute as so many +mice in an instant. 'Now, all you cats of this great county, small and +large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, mottled, and white, attend to +what I'm going to tell you in the name of your king and the master of +all the cats. The sun is down, and the moon is up, and the night is +silent, and no mortal hears us, and I may tell you a secret. You know +the king of Munster's daughter?' + +'O yes, to be sure, and why wouldn't we? Go on with your story,' said +all the cats together. + +'I have heard of her for one,' said a little dirty-faced black cat, +speaking after they had all done, 'for I'm the cat that sits upon the +hob of Owney and Owney-na-peak, the white-smiths, and I know many's +the time young Owney does be talking of her, when he sits by the fire +alone, rubbing me down and planning how he can get into her father's +court.' + +'Whist, you natural!' says the cat that was making the speech, 'what +do you think we care for your Owney, or Owney-na-peak?' + +'Murther, murther!' thinks Owney to himself, 'did anybody ever hear +the aiqual of this?' + +'Well, gentlemen,' says the cat again, 'what I have to say is this. +The king was last week struck with blindness, and you all know well, +how and by what means any blindness may be cured. You know there is no +disorder that can ail mortal frame, that may not be removed by praying +a round at the well of Barrygowen[11] yonder, and the king's disorder +is such, that no other cure whatever can be had for it. Now, beware, +don't let the secret pass one o' yer lips, for there's a +great-grandson of Simon Magus, that is coming down to try his skill, +and he it is that must use the water and marry the princess, who is to +be given to any one so fortunate as to heal her father's eyes; and on +that day, gentlemen, we are all promised a feast of the fattest mice +that ever walked the ground.' This speech was wonderfully applauded by +all the cats, and presently after, the whole crew scampered off, +jumping, and mewing, and purring, down the hill. + +[Footnote 11: The practice of praying rounds, with the view of healing +diseases, at Barrygowen well, in the County of Limerick, is still +continued, notwithstanding the exertions of the neighbouring Catholic +priesthood, which have diminished, but not abolished it.] + +Owney, being sensible that they were all gone, came from his +hiding-place, and knowing the road to Barrygowen well, he set off, and +groped his way out, and shortly knew, by the rolling of the waves,[12] +coming in from the point of Foynes, that he was near the place. He +got to the well, and making a round like a good Christian, rubbed his +eyes with the well-water, and looking up, saw day dawning in the east. +Giving thanks, he jumped up on his feet, and you may say that +Owney-na-peak was much astonished on opening the door of the forge to +find him there, his eyes as well or better than ever, and his face as +merry as a dance. + +[Footnote 12: Of the Shannon.] + +'Well, cousin,' said Owney, smiling, 'you have done me the greatest +service that one man can do another; you put me in the way of getting +two pieces of gold,' said he, showing two he had taken from his +hiding-place. 'If you could only bear the pain of suffering me just to +put out your eyes, and lay you in the same place as you laid me, who +knows what luck you'd have?' + +'No, there's no occasion for putting out eyes at all, but could not +you lay me, just as I am, to-night, in that place, and let me try my +own fortune, if it be a thing you tell thruth; and what else could +put the eyes in your head, after I burning them out with the irons?' + +'You'll know all that in time,' says Owney, stopping him in his +speech, for just at that minute, casting his eye towards the hob, he +saw the cat sitting upon it, and looking very hard at him. So he made +a sign to Owney-na-peak to be silent, or talk of something else; at +which the cat turned away her eyes, and began washing her face, quite +simple, with her two paws, looking now and then sideways into Owney's +face, just like a Christian. By and by, when she had walked out of the +forge, he shut the door after her, and finished what he was going to +say, which made Owney-na-peak still more anxious than before to be +placed under the tombstone. Owney agreed to it very readily, and just +as they were done speaking, cast a glance towards the forge window, +where he saw the imp of a cat, just with her nose and one eye peeping +in through a broken pane. He said nothing, however, but prepared to +carry his cousin to the place; where, towards nightfall, he laid him +as he had been laid himself, snug under the tombstone, and went his +way down the hill, resting in Shanagolden that night, to see what +would come of it in the morning. + +Owney-na-peak had not been more than two or three hours or so lying +down, when he heard the very same noises coming up the hill, that had +puzzled Owney the night before. Seeing the cats enter the churchyard, +he began to grow very uneasy, and strove to hide himself as well as he +could, which was tolerably well too, all being covered by the +tombstone excepting part of the nose, which was so long that he could +not get it to fit by any means. You may say to yourself, that he was +not a little surprised, when he saw the cats all assemble like a +congregation going to hear mass, some sitting, some walking about, and +asking one another after the kittens and the like, and more of them +stretching themselves upon the tombstones, and waiting the speech of +their commander. + +Silence was proclaimed at length, and he spoke: 'Now all you cats of +this great county, small and large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, +mottled, or white, attend--' + +'Stay! stay!' said a little cat with a dirty face, that just then came +running into the yard. 'Be silent, for there are mortal ears listening +to what you say. I have run hard and fast to say that your words were +overheard last night. I am the cat that sits upon the hob of Owney and +Owney-na-peak, and I saw a bottle of the water of Barrygowen hanging +up over the chimbley this morning in their house.' + +In an instant all the cats began screaming, and mewing, and flying, as +if they were mad, about the yard, searching every corner, and peeping +under every tombstone. Poor Owneyna-peak endeavoured as well as he +could to hide himself from them, and began to thump his breast and +cross himself, but it was all in vain, for one of the cats saw the +long nose peeping from under the stone, and in a minute they dragged +him, roaring and bawling, into the very middle of the churchyard, +where they flew upon him all together, and made _smithereens_ of him, +from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. + +The next morning very early, young Owney came to the churchyard, to +see what had become of his cousin. He called over and over again upon +his name, but there was no answer given. At last, entering the place +of tombs, he found his limbs scattered over the earth. + +'So that is the way with you, is it?' said he, clasping his hands, and +looking down on the bloody fragments; 'why then, though you were no +great things in the way of kindness to me when your bones were +together, that isn't the reason why I'd be glad to see them torn +asunder this morning early.' So gathering up all the pieces that he +could find, he put them into a bag he had with him, and away with him +to the well of Barrygowen, where he lost no time in making a round, +and throwing them in, all in a heap. In an instant, he saw +Owney-na-peak as well as ever, scrambling out of the well, and helping +him to get up, he asked him how he felt himself. + +'Oh! is it how I'd feel myself you'd want to know?' said the other; +'easy and I'll tell you. Take that for a specimen!' giving him at the +same time a blow on the head, which you may say wasn't long in laying +Owney sprawling on the ground. Then without giving him a minute's time +to recover, he thrust him into the very bag from which he had been +just shaken himself, resolving within himself to drown him in the +Shannon at once, and put an end to him for ever. + +Growing weary by the way, he stopped at a shebeen house _over-right_ +Robertstown Castle, to refresh himself with a _morning_, before he'd +go any farther. Poor Owney did not know what to do when he came to +himself, if it might be rightly called coming to himself, and the +great bag tied up about him. His wicked cousin shot him down behind +the door in the kitchen, and telling him he'd have his life surely if +he stirred, he walked in to take something that's good in the little +parlour. + +Owney could not for the life of him avoid cutting a hole in the bag, +to have a peep about the kitchen, and see whether he had no means of +escape. He could see only one person, a simple-looking man, who was +counting his beads in the chimney-corner, and now and then striking +his breast, and looking up as if he was praying greatly. + +'Lord,' says he, 'only give me death, death, and a favourable +judgment! I haven't anybody now to look after, nor anybody to look +after me. What's a few tinpennies to save a man from want? Only a +quiet grave is all I ask.' + +'Murther, murther!' says Owney to himself, 'here's a man wants death +and can't have it, and here am I going to have it, and, in troth, I +don't want it at all, see.' So, after thinking a little what he had +best do, he began to sing out very merrily, but lowering his voice, +for fear he should be heard in the next room: + + 'To him that tied me here, + Be thanks and praises given! + I'll bless him night and day, + For packing me to heaven. + Of all the roads you'll name, + He surely will not lag, + Who takes his way to heaven + By travelling in a bag!' + +'To heaven, _ershishin_?'[13] said the man in the chimney-corner, +opening his mouth and his eyes; 'why then, you'd be doing a Christian +turn, if you'd take a neighbour with you, that's tired of this bad and +villainous world.' + +[Footnote 13: Does he say?] + +'You're a fool, you're a fool!' said Owney. + +'I know I am, at least so the neighbours always tell me--but what +hurt? Maybe I have a Christian soul as well as another; and fool or no +fool, in a bag or out of a bag, I'd be glad and happy to go the same +road it is you are talking of.' + +After seeming to make a great favour of it, in order to allure him the +more to the bargain, Owney agreed to put him into the bag instead of +himself; and cautioning him against saying a word, he was just going +to tie him, when he was touched with a little remorse for going to +have the innocent man's life taken: and seeing a slip of a pig that +was killed the day before, in a corner, hanging up, the thought struck +him that it would do just as well to put it in the bag in their +place. No sooner said than done, to the great surprise of the natural, +he popped the pig into the bag and tied it up. + +'Now,' says he, 'my good friend, go home, say nothing, but bless the +name in heaven for saving your life; and you were as near losing it +this morning as ever man was that didn't know.' + +They left the house together. Presently out comes Owney-na-peak, very +hearty; and being so, he was not able to perceive the difference in +the contents of the bag, but hoisting it upon his back, he sallied out +of the house. Before he had gone far, he came to the rock of Foynes, +from the top of which he flung his burden into the salt waters. + +Away he went home, and knocked at the door of the forge, which was +opened to him by Owney. You may fancy him to yourself crossing and +blessing himself over and over again, when he saw, as he thought, the +ghost standing before him. But Owney looked very merry, and told him +not to be afraid. 'You did many is the good turn in your life,' says +he, 'but the equal of this never.' So he up and told him that he found +the finest place in the world at the bottom of the waters, and plenty +of money. 'See these four pieces for a specimen,' showing him some he +had taken from his own hiding hole: 'what do you think of that for a +story?' + +'Why then that it's a droll one, no less; sorrow bit av I wouldn't +have a mind to try my luck in the same way; how did you come home here +before me that took the straight road, and didn't stop for so much as +my _gusthah_[14] since I left Knockpatrick?' + +[Footnote 14: Literally--_walk in_.] + +'Oh, there's a short cut under the waters,' said Owney. 'Mind and only +be civil while you're in Thiernaoge,[15] and you'll make a sight o' +money.' + +[Footnote 15: The abode of the fairies.] + +Well became Owney, he thrust his cousin into the bag, tied it about +him, and putting it into a car that was returning after leaving a load +of oats at a corn-store in the city, it was not long before he was at +Foynes again. Here he dismounted, and going to the rock, he was, I am +afraid, half inclined to start his burden into the wide water, when he +saw a small skiff making towards the point. He hailed her, and learned +that she was about to board a great vessel from foreign parts, that +was sailing out of the river. So he went with his bag on board, and +making his bargain with the captain of the ship, he left Owney-na-peak +along with the crew, and never was troubled with him after, from that +day to this. + +As he was passing by Barrygowen well, he filled a bottle with the +water; and going home, he bought a fine suit of clothes with the rest +of the money he had buried, and away he set off in the morning to the +city of Lumneach. He walked through the town, admiring everything he +saw, until he came before the palace of the king. Over the gates of +this he saw a number of spikes, with a head of a man stuck upon each, +grinning in the sunshine. + +Not at all daunted, he knocked very boldly at the gate, which was +opened by one of the guards of the palace. 'Well! who are you, +friend?' + +'I am a great doctor that's come from foreign parts to cure the king's +eyesight. Lead me to his presence this minute.' + +'Fair and softly,' said the soldier. 'Do you see all those heads that +are stuck up there? Yours is very likely to be keeping company by +them, if you are so foolish as to come inside these walls. They are +the heads of all the doctors in the land who came before you; and +that's what makes the town so fine and healthy this time past, praised +be Heaven for the same!' + +'Don't be talking, you great gomeril,' says Owney; 'only bring me to +the king at once.' + +He was brought before the king. After being warned of his fate if he +should fail to do all that he undertook, the place was made clear of +all but a few guards, and Owney was informed once more, that if he +should restore the king's eyes, he should wed with the princess, and +have the crown after her father's death. This put him in great +spirits, and after making a round upon his bare knees about the +bottle, he took a little of the water, and rubbed it into the king's +eyes. In a minute he jumped up from his throne and looked about him as +well as ever. He ordered Owney to be dressed out like a king's son, +and sent word to his daughter that she should receive him that instant +for her husband. + +You may say to yourself that the princess, glad as she was of her +father's recovery, did not like this message. Small blame to her, +when it is considered that she never set her eyes upon the man +himself. However, her mind was changed wonderfully when he was brought +before her, covered with gold and diamonds, and all sorts of grand +things. Wishing, however, to know whether he had as good a wit as he +had a person, she told him that he should give her, on the next +morning, an answer to two questions, otherwise she would not hold him +worthy of her hand. Owney bowed, and she put the questions as follows: + +'What is that which is the sweetest thing in the world?' + +'What are the three most beautiful objects in the creation?' + +These were puzzling questions; but Owney having a small share of +brains of his own, was not long in forming an opinion upon the matter. +He was very impatient for the morning; but it came just as slow and +regular as if he were not in the world. In a short time he was +summoned to the courtyard, where all the nobles of the land assembled, +with flags waving, and trumpets sounding, and all manner of glorious +doings going on. The princess was placed on a throne of gold near her +father, and there was a beautiful carpet spread for Owney to stand +upon while he answered her questions. After the trumpets were +silenced, she put the first, with a clear sweet voice, and he replied: + +'It's salt!' says he, very stout, out. + +There was a great applause at the answer; and the princess owned, +smiling, that he had judged right. + +'But now,' said she, 'for the second. What are the three most +beautiful things in the creation?' + +'Why,' answered the young man, 'here they are. A ship in full sail--a +field of wheat in ear--and----' + +What the third most beautiful thing was, all the people didn't hear; +but there was a great blushing and laughing among the ladies, and the +princess smiled and nodded at him, quite pleased with his wit. Indeed, +many said that the judges of the land themselves could not have +answered better, had they been in Owney's place; nor could there be +anywhere found a more likely or well-spoken young man. He was brought +first to the king, who took him in his arms, and presented him to the +princess. She could not help acknowledging to herself that his +understanding was quite worthy of his handsome person. Orders being +immediately given for the marriage to proceed, they were made one with +all speed; and it is said, that before another year came round, the +fair princess was one of the most beautiful objects in the creation. + + + + +KINGS AND WARRIORS + + + + +THE KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN[16] + +BY STANDISH O'GRADY + + +One night in the month of the fires of Bel, Cathvah, the Druid and +star-gazer, was observing the heavens through his astrological +instruments. Beside him was Cuculain, just then completing his +sixteenth year. Since the exile of Fergus MacRoy, Cuculain had +attached himself most to the Ard-Druid, and delighted to be along with +him in his studies and observations. Suddenly the old man put aside +his instruments and meditated a long time in silence. + +[Footnote 16: Cuculain was the great hero of legendary Ireland.] + +'Setanta,' said he at length, 'art thou yet sixteen years of age?' + +'No, father,' replied the boy. + +'It will then be difficult to persuade the king to knight thee and +enrol thee among his knights,' said Cathvah. 'Yet this must be done +to-morrow, for it has been revealed to me that he whom Concobar +MacNessa shall present with arms to-morrow, will be renowned to the +most distant ages, and to the ends of the earth. Thou shalt be +presented with arms to-morrow, and after that thou mayest retire for a +season among thy comrades, nor go out among the warriors until thy +strength is mature.' + +The next day Cathvah procured the king's consent to the knighting of +Cuculain. Now on the same morning, one of his grooms came to Concobar +MacNessa and said: 'O chief of the Red Branch, thou knowest how no +horse has eaten barley, or ever occupied the stall where stood the +divine steed which, with another of mortal breed, in the days of +Kimbay MacFiontann, was accustomed to bear forth to the battle the +great war-queen, Macha Monga-Rue; but ever since that stall has been +empty, and no mortal steed hath profaned the stall in which the +deathless Lia Macha was wont to stand. Yet, O Concobar, as I passed +into the great stables on the east side of the courtyard, wherein are +the steeds of thy own ambus, and in which is that spot since held +sacred, I saw in the empty stall a mare, gray almost to whiteness, and +of a size and beauty such as I have never seen, who turned to look +upon me as I entered the stable, having very gentle eyes, but such as +terrified me, so that I let fall the vessel in which I was bearing +curds for the steed of Konaul Clareena; and she approached me, and +laid her head upon my shoulder, making a strange noise.' + +Now as the groom was thus speaking, Cowshra Mend Macha, a younger son +of Concobar, came before the king, and said: 'Thou knowest, O my +father, that house in which is preserved the chariot of Kimbay +MacFiontann, wherein he and she, whose name I bear, the great queen +that protects our nation, rode forth to the wars in the ancient days, +and how it has been preserved ever since, and that it is under my care +to keep bright and clean. Now this day at sunrise I approached the +house, as is my custom, and approaching, I heard dire voices, +clamorous and terrible, that came from within, and noises like the +noise of battle, and shouts as of warriors in the agony of the +conflict, that raise their voices with short intense cries as they ply +their weapons, avoiding or inflicting death. Then I went back +terrified, but there met me Minrowar, son of Gerkin, for he came but +last night from Moharne, in the east, and he went to look at his own +steeds; but together we opened the gate of the chariot-house, and the +bronze of the chariot burned like glowing fire, and the voices cried +out in acclaim, when we stood in the doorway, and the light streamed +into the dark chamber. Doubtless, a great warrior will appear amongst +the Red Branch, for men say that not for a hundred years have these +voices been heard, and I know not for whom Macha sends these portents, +if it be not for the son of Sualtam, though he is not yet of an age to +bear arms.' + +Thus was Concobar prepared for the knighting of Cuculain. + +Then in the presence of his court, and his warriors, and the youths +who were the comrades and companions of Cuculain, Concobar presented +the young hero with his weapons of war, after he had taken the vows of +the Red Branch, and having also bound himself by certain gæsa.[17] +But Cuculain looked narrowly upon the weapons, and he struck the +spears together and clashed the sword upon the shield, and he brake +the spears in pieces, and the sword, and made chasms in the shield. + +[Footnote 17: Curious vows taken by the ancient warriors. Hardly +anything definite is known of them.--ED.] + +'These are not good weapons, O my King,' said the boy. + +Then the king presented him with others that were larger and stronger, +and these too the boy brake into little pieces. + +'These are still worse, O son of Nessa,' said the boy, 'and it is not +seemly, O chief of the Red Branch, that on the day that I am to +receive my arms I should be made a laughing-stock before the Clanna +Rury, being yet but a boy.' + +But Concobar MacNessa exulted exceedingly when he beheld the amazing +strength and the waywardness of the boy, and beneath delicate brows +his eyes glittered like gleaming swords as he glanced rapidly round on +the crowd of martial men that surrounded him; but amongst them all he +seemed himself a bright torch of valour and war, more pure and clear +than polished steel. But he beckoned to one of his knights, who +hastened away and returned, bringing Concobar's own shield and spears +and the sword out of the Tayta Brac, where they were kept, an +equipment in reserve. And Cuculain shook them and bent them, and +clashed them together, but they held firm. + +'These are good arms, O son of Nessa,' said Cuculain. + +Then there were led forward a pair of noble steeds and a war-car, and +the king conferred them on Cuculain. Then Cuculain sprang into the +chariot, and standing with legs apart, he stamped from side to side, +and shook and shook, and jolted the car until the axle brake and the +car itself was broken in pieces. + +'This is not a good chariot, O my King,' said the boy. + +Then there were led forward three chariots, and all these he brake in +succession. + +'These are not good chariots, O chief of the Red Branch,' said +Cuculain. 'No brave warrior would enter the battle or fight from such +rotten foothold.' + +Then the king called to his son Cowshra Mead Macha and bade him take +Læg, and harness to the war-chariot, of which he had the care, the +wondrous gray steed, and that one which had been given him by Kelkar, +the son of Uther, and to give Læg a charioteering equipment, to be +charioteers of Cuculain. For now it was apparent to all the nobles and +to the king that a lion of war had appeared amongst them, and that it +was for him Macha had sent these omens. + +Then Cuculain's heart leaped in his breast when he heard the thunder +of the great war-car and the mad whinnying of the horses that smelt +the battle afar. Soon he beheld them with his eyes, and the charioteer +with the golden fillet of his office, erect in the car, struggling to +subdue their fury. A gray, long-maned steed, whale-bellied, +broad-chested, behind one yoke; a black, ugly-maned steed behind the +other. + +Like a hawk swooping along the face of a cliff when the wind is high, +or like the rush of the March wind over the plain, or like the +fleetness of the stag roused from his lair by the hounds and covering +his first field, was the rush of those steeds when they had broken +through the restraint of the charioteer, as though they galloped over +fiery flags, so that the earth shook and trembled with the velocity of +their motion, and all the time the great car brayed and shrieked as +the wheels of solid and glittering bronze went round, for there were +demons that had their abode in that car. + +The charioteer restrained the steeds before the assembly, but +nay-the-less a deep pur, like the pur of a tiger, proceeded from the +axle. Then the whole assembly lifted up their voices and shouted for +Cuculain, and he himself, Cuculain the son of Sualtam, sprang into his +chariot, all armed, with a cry as of a warrior springing into his +chariot in the battle, and he stood erect and brandished his spears, +and the war-sprites of the Gæil shouted along with them, to the +Bocanahs and Bananahs and the Genitii Glindi, the wild people of the +glens, and the demons of the air, roared around him, when first the +great warrior of the Gæil, his battle-arms in his hands, stood +equipped for war in his chariot before all the warriors of his tribe, +the kings of the Clanna Rury, and the people of Emain Macha. + + + + +THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE + +BY SAMUEL LOVER + + +You see, there was a waiver lived, wanst upon a time, in Duleek here, +hard by the gate, and a very honest, industherous man he was, by all +accounts. He had a wife, and av coorse they had childhre, and small +blame to them, and plenty of them, so that the poor little waiver was +obleeged to work his fingers to the bone a'most to get them the bit +and the sup; but he didn't begridge that, for he was an industherous +craythur, as I said before, and it was up airly and down late with +him, and the loom never standin' still. Well, it was one mornin' that +his wife called to him, and he sitting very busy throwin' the shuttle; +and says she, 'Come here,' says she, 'jewel, and ate your brekquest, +now that it's ready.' But he never minded her, but wint an workin'. So +in a minit or two more, says she, callin' out to him agin, 'Arrah, +lave off slavin' yourself, my darlin', and ate your bit o' brekquest +while it is hot.' + +'Lave me alone,' says he, and he dhruv the shuttle fasther nor before. + +Well, in a little time more, she goes over to him where he sot, and +says she, coaxin' him like, 'Thady, dear,' says she, 'the stirabout +will be stone cowld if you don't give over that weary work and come +and ate it at wanst.' + +'I'm busy with a patthern here that is brakin' my heart,' says the +waiver; 'and antil I complate it and masther it intirely I won't +quit.' + +'Oh, think o' the iligant stirabout, that 'ill be spylte intirely.' + +'To the divil with the stirabout,' says he. + +'God forgive you,' says she, 'for cursin' your good brekquest.' + +'Ay, and you too,' says he. + +'Throth, you're as cross as two sticks this blessed morning, Thady,' +says the poor wife; 'and it's a heavy handful I have of you when you +are cruked in your temper; but stay there if you like, and let your +stirabout grow cowld, and not a one o' me 'ill ax you agin;' and with +that off she wint, and the waiver, sure enough, was mighty crabbed, +and the more the wife spoke to him the worse he got, which, you know, +is only nath'ral. Well, he left the loom at last, and wint over to the +stirabout, and what would you think but whin he looked at it, it was +as black as a crow; for, you see, it was in the hoighth o' summer, and +the flies lit upon it to that degree that the stirabout was fairly +covered with them. + +'Why, thin, bad luck to your impidence,' says the waiver; 'would no +place sarve you but that? and is it spyling my brekquest yiz are, you +dirty bastes?' And with that, bein' altogether cruked-tempered at the +time, he lifted his hand, and he made one great slam at the dish o' +stirabout, and killed no less than three score and tin flies at the +one blow. It was three score and tin exactly, for he counted the +carcasses one by one, and laid them out on a clane plate, for to view +them. + +Well, he felt a powerful sperit risin' in him, when he seen the +slaughther he done, at one blow; and with that he got as consaited as +the very dickens, and not a sthroke more work he'd do that day, but +out he wint, and was fractious and impident to every one he met, and +was squarin' up into their faces and sayin', 'Look at that fist! +that's the fist that killed three score and tin at one blow--Whoo!' + +With that all the neighbours thought he was crack'd, and faith, the +poor wife herself thought the same when he kem home in the evenin', +afther spendin' every rap he had in dhrink, and swaggerin' about the +place, and lookin' at his hand every minit. + +'Indeed, an' your hand is very dirty, sure enough, Thady jewel,' says +the poor wife; and thrue for her, for he rowled into a ditch comin' +home. 'You had betther wash it, darlin'.' + +'How dar' you say dirty to the greatest hand in Ireland?' says he, +going to bate her. + +'Well, it's nat dirty,' says she. + +'It is throwin' away my time I have been all my life,' says he; +'livin' with you at all, and stuck at a loom, nothin' but a poor +waiver, when it is Saint George or the Dhraggin I ought to be, which +is two of the siven champions o' Christendom.' + +'Well, suppose they christened him twice as much,' says the wife; +'sure, what's that to uz?' + +'Don't put in your prate,' says he; 'you ignorant sthrap,' says he. +'You're vulgar, woman--you're vulgar--mighty vulgar; but I'll have +nothin' more to say to any dirty snakin' thrade again--divil a more +waivin' I'll do.' + +'Oh, Thady dear, and what'll the children do then?' + +'Let them go play marvels,' says he. + +'That would be but poor feedin' for them, Thady.' + +'They shan't want for feedin',' says he; 'for it's a rich man I'll be +soon, and a great man too.' + +'Usha, but I'm glad to hear it, darlin',--though I dunna how it's to +be, but I think you had betther go to bed, Thady.' + +'Don't talk to me of any bed but the bed o' glory, woman,' says he, +lookin' mortial grand. + +'Oh! God send we'll all be in glory yet,' says the wife, crassin' +herself; 'but go to sleep, Thady, for this present.' + +'I'll sleep with the brave yit,' says he. + +'Indeed, an' a brave sleep will do you a power o' good, my +darlin','says she. + +'And it's I that will be the knight!' says he. + +'All night, if you plaze, Thady,' says she. + +'None o' your coaxin','says he. 'I'm detarmined on it, and I'll set +off immediantly, and be a knight arriant.' + +'A what?' says she. + +'A knight arriant, woman.' + +'Lord, be good to me, what's that?' says she. + +'A knight arriant is a rale gintleman,' says he; 'going round the +world for sport, with a swoord by his side, takin' whatever he plazes +for himself; and that's a knight arriant,' says he. + +Well, sure enough he wint about among his neighbours the next day, +and he got an owld kittle from one, and a saucepan from another; and +he took them to the tailor, and he sewed him up a shuit o' tin clothes +like any knight arriant and he borrowed a pot lid, and _that_ he was +very partic'lar about, bekase it was his shield and he wint to a frind +o' his, a painther and glazier, and made him paint an his shield in +big letthers-- + +'I'M THE MAN OF ALL MIN, +THAT KILL'D THREE SCORE AND TIN +AT A BLOW.' + +'When the people sees _that_,' says the waiver to himself, 'the sorra +one will dar' for to come near me.' + +And with that he towld the wife to scour out the small iron pot for +him, 'For,' says he, 'it will make an iligant helmet'; and when it was +done, he put it an his head, and his wife said, 'Oh, murther, Thady +jewel, is it puttin' a great heavy iron pot an your head you are, by +way iv a hat?' + +'Sartinly,' says he; 'for a knight arraint should always have _a +woight an his brain_.' + +'But, Thady dear,' says the wife, 'there's a hole in it, and it can't +keep out the weather.' + +'It will be the cooler,' says he, puttin' it an him; 'besides, if I +don't like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp o' sthraw, or the +like o' that.' + +'The three legs of it looks mighty quare, stickin' up,' says she. + +'Every helmet has a spike stickin' out o' the top of it,' says the +waiver; 'and if mine has three, it's only the grandher it is.' + +'Well,' says the wife, getting bitther at last, 'all I can say is, it +isn't the first sheep's head was dhress'd in it.' + +'_Your sarvint, ma'am_,' says he; and off he set. + +Well, he was in want of a horse, and so he wint to a field hard by, +where the miller's horse was grazin', that used to carry the ground +corn round the counthry. + +'This is the idintical horse for me,' says the waiver; 'he is used to +carryin' flour and male, and what am I but the _flower_ o' shovelry in +a coat o' _mail_; so that the horse won't be put out iv his way in the +laste.' + +But as he was ridin' him out o'the field, who should see him but the +miller. + +'Is it stalin' my horse you are, honest man?' says the miller. + +'No,' says the waiver; 'I'm only goin' to _ax_ercise him,' says he, +'in the cool o' the evenin'; it will be good for his health.' + +'Thank you kindly,' says the miller; 'but lave him where he is, and +you'll obleege me.' + +'I can't afford it,' says the waiver, runnin' the horse at the ditch. + +'Bad luck to your impidence,' says the miller; 'you've as much tin +about you as a thravellin' tinker, but you've more brass. Come back +here, you vagabone,' says he. + +But he was too late; away galloped the waiver, and took the road to +Dublin, for he thought the best thing he could do was to go to the +King o' Dublin (for Dublin was a grate place thin, and had a king iv +its own), and he thought, maybe, the King o' Dublin would give him +work. Well, he was four days goin' to Dublin, for the baste was not +the best and the roads worse, not all as one as now; but there was no +turnpikes then, glory be to God! When he got to Dublin, he wint +sthrait to the palace, and whin he got into the coortyard he let his +horse go and graze about the place, for the grass was growin' out +betune the stones; everything was flourishin' thin in Dublin, you see. +Well, the king was lookin' out of his dhrawin'-room windy, for +divarshin, whin the waiver kem in; but the waiver pretended not to see +him, and he wint over to a stone sate, undher the windy--for, you see, +there was stone sates all round about the place for the accommodation +o' the people--for the king was a dacent, obleeging man; well, as I +said, the waiver wint over and lay down an one o' the sates, just +undher the king's windy, and purtended to go asleep; but he took care +to turn out the front of his shield that had the letthers an it; well, +my dear, with that, the king calls out to one of the lords of his +coort that was standin' behind him, howldin' up the skirt of his coat, +accordin' to rayson, and says he: 'Look here,' says he, 'what do you +think of a vagabone like that comin' undher my very nose to go sleep? +It is thrue I'm a good king,' says he, 'and I 'commodate the people by +havin' sates for them to sit down and enjoy the raycreation and +contimplation of seein' me here, lookin' out a' my dhrawin'-room +windy, for divarshin; but that is no rayson they are to _make a hotel_ +o' the place, and come and sleep here. Who is it at all?' says the +king. + +'Not a one o' me knows, plaze your majesty.' + +'I think he must be a furriner,' says the king; 'bekase his dhress is +outlandish.' + +'And doesn't know manners, more betoken,' says the lord. + +'I'll go down and _circumspect_ him myself,' says the king; 'folly +me,' says he to the lord, wavin' his hand at the same time in the most +dignacious manner. + +Down he wint accordingly, followed by the lord; and whin he wint over +to where the waiver was lying, sure the first thing he seen was his +shield with the big letthers an it, and with that, says he to the +lord, 'Bedad,' says he, 'this is the very man I want.' + +'For what, plaze your majesty?' says the lord. + +'To kill that vagabone dragghin, to be sure,' says the king. + +'Sure, do you think he could kill him,' says the lord, 'when all the +stoutest knights in the land wasn't aiquil to it, but never kem back, +and was ate up alive by the cruel desaiver.' + +'Sure, don't you see there,' says the king, pointin' at the shield, +'that he killed three score and tin at one blow? and the man that done +_that_, I think, is a match for anything.' + +So, with that, he wint over to the waiver and shuck him by the +shouldher for to wake him, and the waiver rubbed his eyes as if just +wakened, and the king says to him, 'God save you,' said he. + +'God save you kindly,' says the waiver, _purtendin'_ he was quite +onknowst who he was spakin' to. + +'Do you know who I am,' says the king, 'that you make so free, good +man?' + +'No, indeed,' says the waiver; 'you have the advantage o' me.' + +'To be sure I have,' says the king, _moighty high_; 'sure, ain't I the +King o' Dublin?' says he. + +The waiver dhropped down an his two knees forninst the king, and says +he, 'I beg God's pardon and yours for the liberty I tuk; plaze your +holiness, I hope you'll excuse it.' + +'No offince,' says the king; 'get up, good man. And what brings you +here?' says he. + +'I'm in want o' work, plaze your riverence,' says the waiver. + +'Well, suppose I give you work?' says the king. + +'I'll be proud to sarve you, my lord,' says the waiver. + +'Very well,' says the king. 'You killed three score and tin at one +blow, I understan',' says the king. + +'Yis,' says the waiver; 'that was the last thrifle o' work I done, and +I'm afeard my hand 'll go out o' practice if I don't get some job to +do at wanst.' + +'You shall have a job immediantly,' says the king. 'It is not three +score and tin or any fine thing like that; it is only a blaguard +dhraggin that is disturbin' the counthry and ruinatin' my tinanthry +wid aitin' their powlthry, and I'm lost for want of eggs,' says the +king. + +'Throth, thin, plaze your worship,' says the waiver, 'you look as +yollow as if you swallowed twelve yolks this minit.' + +'Well, I want this dhraggin to be killed,' says the king. 'It will be +no throuble in life to you; and I am only sorry that it isn't betther +worth your while, for he isn't worth fearin' at all; only I must tell +you, that he lives in the County Galway, in the middle of a bog, and +he has an advantage in that.' + +'Oh, I don't value it in the laste,' says the waiver; 'for the last +three score and tin I killed was in a _soft place_.' + +'When will you undhertake the job, then?' says the king. + +'Let me at him at wanst,' says the waiver. + +'That's what I like,' says the king; 'you're the very man for my +money,' says he. + +'Talkin' of money,' says the waiver; 'by the same token, I'll want a +thrifle o' change from you for my thravellin' charges.' + +'As much as you plaze,' says the king; and with the word, he brought +him into his closet, where there was an owld stockin' in an oak chest, +burstin' wid goolden guineas. + +'Take as many as you plaze,' says the king; and sure enough, my dear, +the little waiver stuffed his tin clothes as full as they could howld +with them. + +'Now, I'm ready for the road,' says the waiver. + +'Very well,' says the king; 'but you must have a fresh horse,' says +he. + +'With all my heart,' says the waiver, who thought he might as well +exchange the miller's owld garron for a betther. + +And maybe it's wondherin' you are that the waiver would think of goin' +to fight the dhraggin afther what he heerd about him, when he was +purtendin' to be asleep, but he had no sitch notion; all he intended +was,--to fob the goold, and ride back again to Duleek with his gains +and a good horse. But, you see, cute as the waiver was, the king was +cuter still; for these high quolity, you see, is great desaivers; and +so the horse the waiver was put an was larned on purpose; and sure, +the minit he was mounted, away powdhered the horse, and the divil a +toe he'd go but right down to Galway. Well, for four days he was goin' +evermore, until at last the waiver seen a crowd o' people runnin' as +if owld Nick was at their heels, and they shoutin' a thousand murdhers +and cryin', 'The dhraggin, the dhraggin!' and he couldn't stop the +horse nor make him turn back, but away he pelted right forninst the +terrible baste that was comin' up to him, and there was the most +_nefaarious_ smell o' sulphur, savin' your presence, enough to knock +you down; and, faith the waiver seen he had no time to lose, and so he +threw himself off the horse and made to a three that was growin' nigh +hand, and away he clambered up into it as nimble as a cat; and not a +minit had he to spare, for the dhraggin kem up in a powerful rage, and +he devoured the horse body and bones, in less than no time; and then +he began to sniffle and scent about for the waiver, and at last he +clapt his eye an him, where he was, up in the three, and says he, 'In +throth, you might as well come down out o' that,' says he; 'for I'll +have you as sure as eggs is mate.' + +'Divil a fut I'll go down,' says the waiver. + +'Sorra care, I care,' says the dhraggin; 'for you're as good as ready +money in my pocket this minit, for I'll lie undher this three,' says +he, 'and sooner or later you must fall to my share'; and sure enough +he sot down, and began to pick his teeth with his tail, afther the +heavy brekquest he made that mornin' (for he ate a whole village, let +alone the horse), and he got dhrowsy at last, and fell asleep; but +before he wint to sleep, he wound himself all round about the three, +all as one as a lady windin' ribbon round her finger, so that the +waiver could not escape. + +Well, as soon as the waiver knew he was dead asleep, by the snorin' of +him--and every snore he let out of him was like a clap o' +thunder--that minit the waiver began to creep down the three, as +cautious as a fox; and he was very nigh hand the bottom, when, bad +cess to it, a thievin' branch he was dipindin' an bruk, and down he +fell right a-top o' the dhraggin; but if he did, good luck was an his +side, for where should he fall but with his two legs right acrass the +dhraggin's neck, and, my jew'l, he laid howlt o' the baste's ears, and +there he kept his grip, for the dhraggin wakened and endayvoured for +to bite him; but, you see, by rayson the waiver was behind his ears, +he could not come at him, and, with that, he endayvoured for to shake +him off; but the divil a stir could he stir the waiver; and though he +shuk all the scales an his body, he could not turn the scale agin the +waiver. + +'By the hokey, this is too bad intirely,' says the dhraggin; 'but if +you won't let go,' says he, 'by the powers o' wildfire, I'll give you +a ride that 'ill astonish your siven small sinses, my boy'; and, with +that, away he flew like mad; and where do you think he did +fly?--bedad, he flew sthraight for Dublin, divil a less. But the +waiver bein' an his neck was a great disthress to him, and he would +rather have had him an _inside passenger_; but, anyway, he flew and he +flew till he kem _slap_ up agin the palace o' the king; for, bein' +blind with the rage, he never seen it, and he knocked his brains +out--that is, the small thrifle he had--and down he fell spacheless. +An' you see, good luck would have it, that the King o' Dublin was +lookin' out iv' his dhrawin'-room windy, for divarshin, that day also, +and whin he seen the waiver ridin' an the fiery dhraggin (for he was +blazin' like a tar-barrel), he called out to his coortyers to come and +see the show. 'By the powdhers o' war, here comes the knight arriant,' +says the king, 'ridin' the dhraggin that's all afire, and if he gets +_into the palace_, yiz must be ready wid the _fire ingines_,' says he, +'for to _put him out_.' But when they seen the dhraggin fall outside, +they all run downstairs and scampered into the palace-yard for to +circumspect the _curosity_; and by the time they got down, the waiver +had got off o' the dhraggin's neck, and runnin' up to the king, says +he, 'Plaze your holiness,' says he, 'I did not think myself worthy of +killin' this facetious baste, so I brought him to yourself for to do +him the honour of decripitation by your own royal five fingers. But I +tamed him first, before I allowed him the liberty for to _dar'_ to +appear in your royal prisince, and you'll oblige me if you'll just +make your mark with your own hand upon the onruly baste's neck.' And +with that the king, sure enough, dhrew out his swoord and took the +head aff the _dirty_ brute as _clane_ as a new pin. Well, there was +great rejoicin' in the coort that the dhraggin was killed; and says +the king to the little waiver, says he, 'You are a knight arriant as +it is, and so it would be of no use for to knight you over agin; but I +will make you a lord,' says he. + +'O Lord!' says the waiver, thunder-struck like at his own good luck. + +'I will,' says the king; 'and as you are the first man I ever heer'd +tell of that rode a dhraggin, you shall be called Lord _Mount_ +Dhraggin,' says he. + +'And where's my estates, plaze your holiness?' says the waiver, who +always had a sharp look-out afther the main chance. + +'Oh, I didn't forget that,' says the king; 'it is my royal pleasure to +provide well for you, and for that rayson I make you a present of all +the dhraggins in the world, and give you power over them from this +out,' says he. + +'Is that all?' says the waiver. + +'All!' says the king. 'Why, you ongrateful little vagabone, was the +like ever given to any man before?' + +'I b'lieve not, indeed,' says the waiver; 'many thanks to your +majesty.' + +'But that is not all I'll do for you,' says the king; 'I'll give you +my daughther too in marriage,' says he. Now, you see, that was nothin' +more than what he promised the waiver in his first promise; for, by +all accounts, the king's daughther was the greatest dhraggin ever was +seen, and had the divil's own tongue, and a beard a yard long, which +she _purtended_ was put an her by way of a penance by Father Mulcahy, +her confissor; but it was well known it was in the family for ages, +and no wondher it was so long, by rayson of that same. + + + + +APPENDIX + + + + +CLASSIFICATION OF IRISH FAIRIES + + +Irish Fairies divide themselves into two great classes: the sociable +and the solitary. The first are in the main kindly, and the second +full of all uncharitableness. + + +THE SOCIABLE FAIRIES + +These creatures, who go about in troops, and quarrel, and make love, +much as men and women do, are divided into land fairies or Sheoques +(Ir. _Sidheog_, 'a little fairy,') and water fairies or Merrows (Ir. +_Moruadh_, 'a sea maid'; the masculine is unknown). At the same time I +am inclined to think that the term Sheoque may be applied to both +upon occasion, for I have heard of a whole village turning out to hear +two red-capped water fairies, who were very 'little fairies' indeed, +play upon the bagpipes. + +1. _The Sheoques._--The Sheoques proper, however, are the spirits that +haunt the sacred thorn bushes and the green raths. All over Ireland +are little fields circled by ditches, and supposed to be ancient +fortifications and sheep-folds. These are the raths, or forts, or +'royalties,' as they are variously called. Here, marrying and giving +in marriage, live the land fairies. Many a mortal they are said to +have enticed down into their dim world. Many more have listened to +their fairy music, till all human cares and joys drifted from their +hearts and they became great peasant seers or 'Fairy Doctors,' or +great peasant musicians or poets like Carolan, who gathered his tunes +while sleeping on a fairy rath; or else they died in a year and a day, +to live ever after among the fairies. These Sheoques are on the whole +good; but one most malicious habit have they--a habit worthy of a +witch. They steal children and leave a withered fairy, a thousand or +maybe two thousand years old, instead. Three or four years ago a man +wrote to one of the Irish papers, telling of a case in his own +village, and how the parish priest made the fairies deliver the stolen +child up again. At times full-grown men and women have been taken. +Near the village of Coloney, Sligo, I have been told, lives an old +woman who was taken in her youth. When she came home at the end of +seven years she had no toes, for she had danced them off. Now and then +one hears of some real injury being done a person by the land fairies, +but then it is nearly always deserved. They are said to have killed +two people in the last six months in the County Down district where I +am now staying. But then these persons had torn up thorn bushes +belonging to the Sheoques. + +2. _The Merrows._--These water fairies are said to be common. I asked +a peasant woman once whether the fishermen of her village had ever +seen one. 'Indeed, they don't like to see them at all,' she answered, +'for they always bring bad weather.' Sometimes the Merrows come out of +the sea in the shape of little hornless cows. When in their own shape, +they have fishes' tails and wear a red cap called in Irish _cohuleen +driuth_ (p. 79). The men among them have, according to Croker, green +teeth, green hair, pigs' eyes, and red noses; but their women are +beautiful, and sometimes prefer handsome fishermen to their +green-haired lovers. Near Bantry, in the last century, lived a woman +covered with scales like a fish, who was descended, as the story goes, +from such a marriage. I have myself never heard tell of this grotesque +appearance of the male Merrows, and think it probably a merely local +Munster tradition. + + +THE SOLITARY FAIRIES + +These are nearly all gloomy and terrible in some way. There are, +however, some among them who have light hearts and brave attire. + +1. _The Lepricaun_ (Ir. _Leith bhrogan_, _i.e._ the one shoe +maker).--This creature is seen sitting under a hedge mending a shoe, +and one who catches him can make him deliver up his crocks of gold, +for he is a miser of great wealth; but if you take your eyes off him +the creature vanishes like smoke. He is said to be the child of an +evil spirit and a debased fairy, and wears, according to McAnally, a +red coat with seven buttons in each row, and a cocked-hat, on the +point of which he sometimes spins like a top. In Donegal he goes clad +in a great frieze coat. + +2. _The Cluricaun_ (Ir. _Clobhair-cean_ in O'Kearney).--Some writers +consider this to be another name for the Lepricaun, given him when he +has laid aside his shoe-making at night and goes on the spree. The +Cluricauns' occupations are robbing wine-cellars and riding sheep and +shepherds' dogs for a livelong night, until the morning finds them +panting and mud-covered. + +3. _The Gonconer or Ganconagh_ (Ir. _Gean-canogh_, _i.e._ +love-talker).--This is a creature of the Lepricaun type, but, unlike +him, is a great idler. He appears in lonely valleys, always with a +pipe in his mouth, and spends his time in making love to shepherdesses +and milkmaids. + +4. _The Far Darrig_ (Ir. _Fear Dearg_, _i.e._ red man).--This is the +practical joker of the other world. The wild Sligo story I give of 'A +Fairy Enchantment' was probably his work. Of these solitary and mainly +evil fairies there is no more lubberly wretch than this same Far +Darrig. Like the next phantom, he presides over evil dreams. + +5. _The Pooka_ (Ir. _Púca_, a word derived by some from _poc_, a +he-goat).--The Pooka seems of the family of the nightmare. He has most +likely never appeared in human form, the one or two recorded instances +being probably mistakes, he being mixed up with the Far Darrig. His +shape is usually that of a horse, a bull, a goat, eagle, or ass. His +delight is to get a rider, whom he rushes with through ditches and +rivers and over mountains, and shakes off in the gray of the morning. +Especially does he love to plague a drunkard: a drunkard's sleep is +his kingdom. At times he takes more unexpected forms than those of +beast or bird. The one that haunts the Dun of Coch-na-Phuca in +Kilkenny takes the form of a fleece of wool, and at night rolls out +into the surrounding fields, making a buzzing noise that so terrifies +the cattle that unbroken colts will run to the nearest man and lay +their heads upon his shoulder for protection. + +6. _The Dullahan._--This is a most gruesome thing. He has no head, or +carries it under his arm. Often he is seen driving a black coach +called coach-a-bower (Ir. _Coite-bodhar_), drawn by headless horses. +It rumbles to your door, and if you open it a basin of blood is thrown +in your face. It is an omen of death to the houses where it pauses. +Such a coach not very long ago went through Sligo in the gray of the +morning, as was told me by a sailor who believed he saw it. In one +village I know its rumbling is said to be heard many times in the +year. + +7. _The Leanhaun Shee_ (Ir. _Leanhaun sidhe_, _i.e._ fairy +mistress).--This spirit seeks the love of men. If they refuse, she is +their slave; if they consent, they are hers, and can only escape by +finding one to take their place. Her lovers waste away, for she lives +on their life. Most of the Gaelic poets, down to quite recent times, +have had a Leanhaun Shee, for she gives inspiration to her slaves and +is indeed the Gaelic muse--this malignant fairy. Her lovers, the +Gaelic poets, died young. She grew restless, and carried them away to +other worlds, for death does not destroy her power. + +8. _The Far Gorta_ (man of hunger).--This is an emaciated fairy that +goes through the land in famine time, begging and bringing good luck +to the giver. + +9. _The Banshee_ (Ir. _Bean-sidhe_, _i.e._ fairy woman).--This fairy, +like the Fear Gorta, differs from the general run of solitary fairies +by its generally good disposition. She is perhaps not really one of +them at all, but a sociable fairy grown solitary through much sorrow. +The name corresponds to the less common Far Shee (Ir. _Fear Sidhe_), a +man fairy. She wails, as most people know, over the death of a member +of some old Irish family. Sometimes she is an enemy of the house and +screams with triumph, but more often a friend. When more than one +Banshee comes to cry, the man or woman who is dying must have been +very holy or very brave. Occasionally she is most undoubtedly one of +the sociable fairies. Cleena, once an Irish princess and then a +Munster goddess, and now a Sheoque, is thus mentioned by the greatest +of Irish antiquarians. + +O'Donovan, writing in 1849 to a friend, who quotes his words in the +_Dublin University Magazine_, says: 'When my grandfather died in +Leinster in 1798, Cleena came all the way from Ton Cleena to lament +him; but she has not been heard ever since lamenting any of our race, +though I believe she still weeps in the mountains of Drumaleaque in +her own country, where so many of the race of Eoghan More are dying of +starvation.' The Banshee on the other hand who cries with triumph is +often believed to be no fairy but a ghost of one wronged by an +ancestor of the dying. Some say wrongly that she never goes beyond the +seas, but dwells always in her own country. Upon the other hand, a +distinguished writer on anthropology assures me that he has heard her +on 1st December 1867, in Pital, near Libertad, Central America, as he +rode through a deep forest. She was dressed in pale yellow, and raised +a cry like the cry of a bat. She came to announce the death of his +father. This is her cry, written down by him with the help of a +Frenchman and a violin. + +[Illustration: music no caption ] + +He saw and heard her again on 5th February 1871, at 16 Devonshire +Street, Queen's Square, London. She came this time to announce the +death of his eldest child; and in 1884 he again saw and heard her at +28 East Street, Queen's Square, the death of his mother being the +cause. + +The Banshee is called _badh_ or _bowa_ in East Munster, and is named +_Bachuntha_ by Banim in one of his novels. + +_Other Fairies and Spirits._--Besides the foregoing, we have other +solitary fairies, of which too little definite is known to give them +each a separate mention. They are the House Spirits, of whom 'Teigue +of the Lee' is probably an instance; the Water Sherie, a kind of +will-o'-the-wisp; the Sowlth, a formless luminous creature; the Pastha +(_Piast-bestia_), the lake dragon, a guardian of hidden treasure; and +the Bo men fairies, who live in the marshes of County Down and destroy +the unwary. They may be driven away by a blow from a particular kind +of sea-weed. I suspect them of being Scotch fairies imported by Scotch +settlers. Then there is the great tribe of ghosts called Thivishes in +some parts. + +These are all the fairies and spirits I have come across in Irish +folklore. There are probably many others undiscovered. + +W. B. YEATS. + +CO. DOWN, _June 1891_. + + + + +AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLKLORE + + +Croker's _Legends of the South of Ireland_; Lady Wilde's _Ancient +Legends of Ireland_, and _Ancient Charms_; Sir William Wilde's _Irish +Popular Superstitions_; McAnally's _Irish Wonders_; _Irish Folklore_, +by Lageniensis (Father O'Hanlan); Curtins's _Myths and Folklore of +Ireland_; Douglas Hyde's _Beside the Fire_ and his _Leabhar +Sgeulaigheachta_; Patrick Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions of the Irish +Peasantry_, his _Banks of the Boro_, his _Evenings on the Duffrey_, +and his _Legends of Mount Leinster_; the chap-books, _Royal Fairy +Tales_, and _Tales of the Fairies_. There is also much folklore in +Carleton's _Traits and Stories_; in Lover's _Legends and Stories of +the Irish Peasantry_; in Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall's _Ireland_; in Lady +Chatterton's _Rambles in the South of Ireland_; in Gerald Griffen's +_Tales of a Jury Room_ in particular, and in his other books in +general. It would repay the trouble if some Irish magazine would +select from his works the stray legends and scraps of fairy belief. +There is much in the _Collegians_. There is also folklore in the +chap-book _Hibernian Tales_, and a Banshee story or two will be found +in Miss Lefanu's _Memoirs of my Grandmother_, and in Barrington's +_Recollections_. There are also stories in Donovan's introduction to +the _Four Masters_. The best articles are those in the _Dublin and +London Magazine_ ("The Fairy Greyhound" is from this collection) for +1827 and 1829, about a dozen in all, and David Fitzgerald's various +contributions to the _Review Celtique_ in our own day, and Miss +M'Clintock's articles in the _Dublin University Magazine_ for 1878. +There are good articles also in the _Dublin University Magazine_ for +1839, and much Irish folklore is within the pages of the _Folklore +Journal_ and the _Folklore Record_, and in the proceedings of the +_Kilkenny Archæological Society_. The _Penny Journal_, the _Newry +Magazine_, _Duffy's Sixpenny Magazine_, and the _Hibernian Magazine_, +are also worth a search by any Irish writer on the look-out for +subjects for song or ballad. My own articles in the _Scots Observer_ +and _National Observer_ give many gatherings from the little-reaped +Connaught fields. I repeat this list of authorities from my _Fairy and +Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry_,--a compilation from some of the +sources mentioned,--bringing it down to date and making one or two +corrections. The reader who would know Irish tradition should read +these books above all others--Lady Wilde's _Ancient Legends_, Douglas +Hyde's _Beside the Fire_, and a book not mentioned in the foregoing +list, for it deals with the bardic rather than the folk literature, +Standish O'Grady's _History of Ireland, Heroic Period_--perhaps the +most imaginative book written on any Irish subject in recent decades. + + + * * * * * + + +_THE CHILDREN'S LIBRARY._ + + +THE BROWN OWL. + +A CHINA CUP, AND OTHER STORIES. + +STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND. + +THE LITTLE PRINCESS. + +THE STORY OF A PUPPET. + +TALES FROM THE MABINOGION. + +IRISH FAIRY TALES. + + * * * * * + +_(Others in the Press.)_ + + * * * * * + + +A SELECTED LIST OF JUVENILE BOOKS + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s._ + +CHILDREN'S STORIES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE, from Shakespeare to +Tennyson. By H. C. WRIGHT. + + "A genial book."--_Speaker._ + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s._ + +BOYS' OWN STORIES. By ASCOTT R. HOPE. 3rd Edition. Eight +Illustrations. + + "The stories are well told."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s._ + +ROYAL YOUTHS: A Book of Prince-hoods. By ASCOTT R. HOPE. Illustrated. + + "Well told and full of interest."--_National Observer._ + + * * * * * + +_Large crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s._ + +ROBINSON CRUSOE. Newly Edited after the original Editions. 19 +full-page Illustrations. + + "Gives an account of Defoe which is very much to the + point."--_Spectator._ + + * * * * * + +_Imperial 16mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 3s. 6d._ + +DICK'S HOLIDAYS, and What He Did with Them. Illustrated. Cheaper +Edition. + + "A volume for which every budding botanist who gets it has + good reason to be thankful."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ + + * * * * * + +_Small 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 3s. 6d._ + +WHEN MOTHER WAS LITTLE. By S. P. YORKE. 13 full-page Illustrations. + + "In all respects an agreeable and well-written + story."--_Spectator._ + + * * * * * + +_8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 6s._ + +TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. By THOMAS NELSON PAGE. Illustrated. + + "A delightful book."--_Saturday Review._ + + * * * * * + +_Medium 4to, paper boards, 3s. 6d._ + +DADDY JAKE, the Runaway, and Other Stories. By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS +("Uncle Remus"). Illustrated. + + "A fresh and delightful addition to those quaint and + laughable tales which have made the author of 'Uncle Remus' + loved and fancied wherever the English tongue is + spoken."--_Observer._ + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s._ + +SIX GIRLS: A Home Story. By FANNIE B. IRVING. Illustrated. + + "Its interest is well sustained from first to + last."--_Scotsman._ + + * * * * * + +_Square Imperial 16mo, cloth, 5s._ + +IN THE TIME OF ROSES: A Tale of Two Summers. By FLORENCE SCANNELL. 32 +Illustrations. + + "A very successful book."--_Academy._ + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, bevelled boards, 3s. 6d._ + +ALEXIS AND HIS FLOWERS. By BEATRIX CRESSWELL. Illustrated. + + "The book is a very pleasant one--a nosegay of everlasting + blooms of fancy."--_Academy._ + + * * * * * + +_Square 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d._ + +THE PRINCE OF THE HUNDRED SOUPS. By VERNON LEE. Illustrated. + + "I devoured it from cover to cover with a new + zest."--_Truth._ + + * * * * * + +_Imperial 16mo, cloth, 3s. 6d._ + +THE BIRD'S NEST, and Other Sermons for Children of all ages. By Rev. +S. COX, D.D. 3rd Edition. + + "Real honest preaching made fascinating and instructive by + an exquisite literary style."--_Methodist Times._ + + * * * * * + +_Small crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d._ + +EVERY-DAY MIRACLES. By BEDFORD POLLARD. Illustrated. + + "A work worthy of the highest praise."--_Graphic._ + + * * * * * + +_Imperial 16mo, cloth gilt, gilt edges, 3s. 6d._ + +FAIRY TALES FROM BRENTANO. Told in English by KATE F. KROEKER. 3rd +Edition. + + "Welcome in the nursery. The translation has been very + cleverly accomplished."--_Academy._ + + * * * * * + +_Illustrated paper boards, 5s.; cloth, gilt edges, 6s._ + +NEW FAIRY TALES FROM BRENTANO. By KATE F. KROEKER. 8 coloured +Illustrations. + + "I read the book with edification and delight."--_Truth._ + + * * * * * + +_Medium 4to, paper boards, 3s. 6d._ + +THE BROWNIES: Their Book. By PALMER COX. 4th Edition. Illustrated. + + "The Brownies are such prime favourites."--_Guardian._ + + * * * * * + +_Medium 4to, cloth, 6s._ + +ANOTHER BROWNIE BOOK. By PALMER COX. Illustrated. + + "The illustrations are perhaps even more mirthful than the + letterpress, but both are admirable."--_Morning Post._ + + * * * * * + +_4to, bevelled boards, 3s. 6d._ + +MARJORIE AND HER PAPA: How they wrote a Story and made Pictures for +it. A Book for Children. + + "Altogether a book to be desired by and for + children."--_Spectator._ + + * * * * * + + +THE "LIVES WORTH LIVING" SERIES OF POPULAR BIOGRAPHIES + + * * * * * + +_Illustrated, crown 8vo, cloth, price 3s. 6d. each._ + +1. LEADERS OF MEN. By H. A. PAGE. + + "Vigorously and well executed."--_Literary Churchman._ + +2. WISE WORDS AND LOVING DEEDS. By E. CONDER GRAY. + + "The book is altogether a bracing one."--_Hand and Heart._ + +3. MASTER MISSIONARIES. By A. H. JAPP. + + "The sketches are ably written."--_Glasgow Herald._ + +4. LABOUR AND VICTORY. By A. H. JAPP. + + "Charming sketches."--_Glasgow Mail._ + +5. HEROIC ADVENTURE: Exploration and Discovery. + + "The book is one we can thoroughly recommend."--_Christian._ + +6. GREAT MINDS IN ART. By WILLIAM TIREBUCK. + + "Told with accuracy and freshness."--_Globe._ + +7. GOOD MEN AND TRUE. By ALEX. H. JAPP. + + "Valuable and interesting records."--_Freeman._ + +8. THE LIVES OF ROBERT AND MARY MOFFAT. By their Son, JOHN SMITH +MOFFAT. + + "Eminently deserving of a permanent record. Mr. Moffat's + work is calculated to increase the veneration with which the + memory of the veteran missionary is regarded by + multitudes."--_Athenæum._ + +9. FAMOUS MUSICAL COMPOSERS. By LYDIA J. MORRIS. + + "Makes a capital gift-book."--_Scotsman._ + + * * * * * + + +_"The best of all children's Magazines."_ + SPECTATOR. + +_St. Nicholas + For Young Folks._ + +CONDUCTED BY + +MARY MAPES DODGE + + * * * * * + +Price 1s. monthly. + + * * * * * + +SUITABLE FOR +CHILDREN OF BOTH SEXES, + CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, AND + CHILDREN OF ALL SIZES. + +Each Part contains 80 pp. of interesting matter, illustrated by about +50 high-class Engravings. + +_The Half-yearly Volumes, price 8s. each, are handsomely bound in red +cloth, gilt._ + + * * * * * + +LONDON: T. 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B. 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B. (William +Butler) Yeats, Illustrated by Jack B. Yeats</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Irish Fairy Tales</p> +<p>Editor: W. B. (William Butler) Yeats</p> +<p>Release Date: March 25, 2010 [eBook #31763]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH FAIRY TALES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org">http://www.archive.org</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/fairytalesirish00yeatrich"> + http://www.archive.org/details/fairytalesirish00yeatrich</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="400" height="692" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/image_002.jpg" width="450" height="759" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="450" height="669" alt=""PLAYING AWAY ON THE PIPES AS MERRILY AS IF NOTHING HAD +HAPPENED." [Page 48." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"PLAYING AWAY ON THE PIPES AS MERRILY AS IF NOTHING HAD +HAPPENED." [<a href="#Page_48">Page 48.</a></span></div> +<p> </p> + + +<h1>IRISH<br /> + +FAIRY TALES</h1> +<p> </p> + +<h5>EDITED</h5> + +<h4>WITH AN INTRODUCTION</h4> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>W. B. YEATS</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF 'THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN,' ETC.</h4> + +<p> </p> +<h3><i>ILLUSTRATED BY JACK B. YEATS</i></h3> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>LONDON</h3> + +<h3>T. FISHER UNWIN</h3> + +<h3>1892</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="200" height="194" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3><i>WHERE MY BOOKS GO.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>All the words that I gather,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i12"><i>And all the words that I write,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Must spread out their wings untiring,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i12"><i>And never rest in their flight,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i12"><i>And sing to you in the night,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Beyond where the waters are moving,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i12"><i>Storm darkened or starry bright.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i><span class="smcap">W. B. Yeats.</span></i></p> + +<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">London</span>, <i>January 1892</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="600" height="226" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td></td><td class=" f1 tocpg">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">Introduction</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><a href="#LAND_AND_WATER_FAIRIES">LAND AND WATER FAIRIES</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_FAIRIES_DANCING-PLACE">The Fairies' Dancing-Place</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_RIVAL_KEMPERS">The Rival Kempers</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_YOUNG_PIPER">The Young Piper</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#A_FAIRY_ENCHANTMENT">A Fairy Enchantment</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#TEIGUE_OF_THE_LEE">Teigue of the Lee</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_FAIRY_GREYHOUND">The Fairy Greyhound</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_LADY_OF_GOLLERUS">The Lady of Gollerus</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><a href="#EVIL_SPIRITS">EVIL SPIRITS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_MILL">The Devil's Mill</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#FERGUS_OMARA_AND_THE_AIR-DEMONS">Fergus O'Mara and the Air-Demons</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_MAN_WHO_NEVER_KNEW_FEAR">The Man who never knew Fear</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><a href="#CATS">CATS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#SEANCHAN_THE_BARD_AND_THE_KING_OF_THE_CATS">Seanchan the Bard and the King of the Cats</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#OWNEY_AND_OWNEY-NA-PEAK">Owney and Owney-na-Peak</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><a href="#KINGS_AND_WARRIORS">KINGS AND WARRIORS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_KNIGHTING_OF_CUCULAIN">The Knighting of Cuculain</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_LITTLE_WEAVER_OF_DULEEK_GATE">The Little Weaver of Duleek Gate</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><a href="#APPENDIX">APPENDIX</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CLASSIFICATION_OF_IRISH_FAIRIES">Classification of Irish Fairies</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#AUTHORITIES_ON_IRISH_FOLKLORE">Authorities on Irish Folklore</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_011.jpg" width="600" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<h3>AN IRISH STORY-TELLER</h3> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p> am often doubted when I say that the Irish peasantry still believe +in fairies. People think I am merely trying to bring back a little of +the old dead beautiful world of romance into this century of great +engines and spinning-jinnies. Surely the hum of wheels and clatter of +printing presses, to let alone the lecturers with their black coats +and tumblers of water, have driven away the goblin kingdom and made +silent the feet of the little dancers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>Old Biddy Hart at any rate does not think so. Our bran-new opinions +have never been heard of under her brown-thatched roof tufted with +yellow stone-crop. It is not so long since I sat by the turf fire +eating her griddle cake in her cottage on the slope of Benbulben and +asking after her friends, the fairies, who inhabit the green +thorn-covered hill up there behind her house. How firmly she believed +in them! How greatly she feared offending them! For a long time she +would give me no answer but 'I always mind my own affairs and they +always mind theirs.' A little talk about my great-grandfather who +lived all his life in the valley below, and a few words to remind her +how I myself was often under her roof when but seven or eight years +old loosened her tongue, however. It would be less dangerous at any +rate to talk to me of the fairies than it would be to tell some +'Towrow' of them, as she contemptuously called English tourists, for I +had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> lived under the shadow of their own hillsides. She did not +forget, however, to remind me to say after we had finished, 'God bless +them, Thursday' (that being the day), and so ward off their +displeasure, in case they were angry at our notice, for they love to +live and dance unknown of men.</p> + +<p>Once started, she talked on freely enough, her face glowing in the +firelight as she bent over the griddle or stirred the turf, and told +how such a one was stolen away from near Coloney village and made to +live seven years among 'the gentry,' as she calls the fairies for +politeness' sake, and how when she came home she had no toes, for she +had danced them off; and how such another was taken from the +neighbouring village of Grange and compelled to nurse the child of the +queen of the fairies a few months before I came. Her news about the +creatures is always quite matter-of-fact and detailed, just as if she +dealt with any common occur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>rence: the late fair, or the dance at +Rosses last year, when a bottle of whisky was given to the best man, +and a cake tied up in ribbons to the best woman dancer. They are, to +her, people not so different from herself, only grander and finer in +every way. They have the most beautiful parlours and drawing-rooms, +she would tell you, as an old man told me once. She has endowed them +with all she knows of splendour, although that is not such a great +deal, for her imagination is easily pleased. What does not seem to us +so very wonderful is wonderful to her, there, where all is so homely +under her wood rafters and her thatched ceiling covered with +whitewashed canvas. We have pictures and books to help us imagine a +splendid fairy world of gold and silver, of crowns and marvellous +draperies; but she has only that little picture of St. Patrick over +the fireplace, the bright-coloured crockery on the dresser, and the +sheet of ballads stuffed by her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> young daughter behind the stone dog +on the mantelpiece. Is it strange, then, if her fairies have not the +fantastic glories of the fairies you and I are wont to see in +picture-books and read of in stories? She will tell you of peasants +who met the fairy cavalcade and thought it but a troop of peasants +like themselves until it vanished into shadow and night, and of great +fairy palaces that were mistaken, until they melted away, for the +country seats of rich gentlemen.</p> + +<p>Her views of heaven itself have the same homeliness, and she would be +quite as naïve about its personages if the chance offered as was the +pious Clondalkin laundress who told a friend of mine that she had seen +a vision of St. Joseph, and that he had 'a lovely shining hat upon him +and a shirt-buzzom that was never starched in this world.' She would +have mixed some quaint poetry with it, however; for there is a world +of difference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> between Benbulben and Dublinised Clondalkin.</p> + +<p>Heaven and Fairyland—to these has Biddy Hart given all she dreams of +magnificence, and to them her soul goes out—to the one in love and +hope, to the other in love and fear—day after day and season after +season; saints and angels, fairies and witches, haunted thorn-trees +and holy wells, are to her what books, and plays, and pictures are to +you and me. Indeed they are far more; for too many among us grow +prosaic and commonplace, but she keeps ever a heart full of music. 'I +stand here in the doorway,' she said once to me on a fine day, 'and +look at the mountain and think of the goodness of God'; and when she +talks of the fairies I have noticed a touch of tenderness in her +voice. She loves them because they are always young, always making +festival, always far off from the old age that is coming upon her and +filling her bones with aches,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> and because, too, they are so like +little children.</p> + +<p>Do you think the Irish peasant would be so full of poetry if he had +not his fairies? Do you think the peasant girls of Donegal, when they +are going to service inland, would kneel down as they do and kiss the +sea with their lips if both sea and land were not made lovable to them +by beautiful legends and wild sad stories? Do you think the old men +would take life so cheerily and mutter their proverb, 'The lake is not +burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul +that is in him,' if the multitude of spirits were not near them?</p> + +<p class="p4"><span class="smcap">W. B. Yeats.</span></p> + +<p class="p3"><span class="smcap">Clondalkin</span>,</p> + +<p class="p5"><i>July 1891</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="600" height="226" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="NOTE" id="NOTE"></a>NOTE</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p> have to thank Lady Wilde for leave to give 'Seanchan the Bard' from +her <i>Ancient Legends of Ireland</i> (Ward and Downey), the most poetical +and ample collection of Irish folklore yet published; Mr. Standish +O'Grady for leave to give 'The Knighting of Cuculain' from that prose +epic he has curiously named <i>History of Ireland, Heroic Period</i>; +Professor Joyce for his 'Fergus O'Mara and the Air Demons'; and Mr. +Douglas Hyde for his unpublished story, 'The Man who never knew +Fear.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>I have included no story that has already appeared in my <i>Fairy and +Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry</i> (Camelot Series).</p> + +<p>The two volumes make, I believe, a fairly representative collection of +Irish folk tales.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LAND_AND_WATER_FAIRIES" id="LAND_AND_WATER_FAIRIES"></a>LAND AND WATER FAIRIES</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_008.jpg" width="600" height="228" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="THE_FAIRIES_DANCING-PLACE" id="THE_FAIRIES_DANCING-PLACE"></a>THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By William Carleton</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>anty M'Clusky had married a wife, and, of course, it was necessary to +have a house in which to keep her. Now, Lanty had taken a bit of a +farm, about six acres; but as there was no house on it, he resolved to +build one; and that it might be as comfortable as possible, he +selected for the site of it one of those beautiful green circles that +are supposed to be the play-ground of the fairies. Lanty was warned +against this; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> as he was a headstrong man, and not much given to +fear, he said he would not change such a pleasant situation for his +house to oblige all the fairies in Europe. He accordingly proceeded +with the building, which he finished off very neatly; and, as it is +usual on these occasions to give one's neighbours and friends a +house-warming, so, in compliance with this good and pleasant old +custom, Lanty having brought home the wife in the course of the day, +got a fiddler and a lot of whisky, and gave those who had come to see +him a dance in the evening. This was all very well, and the fun and +hilarity were proceeding briskly, when a noise was heard after night +had set in, like a crushing and straining of ribs and rafters on the +top of the house. The folks assembled all listened, and, without +doubt, there was nothing heard but crushing, and heaving, and pushing, +and groaning, and panting, as if a thousand little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> men were engaged +in pulling down the roof.</p> + +<p>'Come,' said a voice which spoke in a tone of command, 'work hard: you +know we must have Lanty's house down before midnight.'</p> + +<p>This was an unwelcome piece of intelligence to Lanty, who, finding +that his enemies were such as he could not cope with, walked out, and +addressed them as follows:</p> + +<p>'Gintlemen, I humbly ax yer pardon for buildin' on any place belongin' +to you; but if you'll have the civilitude to let me alone this night, +I'll begin to pull down and remove the house to-morrow morning.'</p> + +<p>This was followed by a noise like the clapping of a thousand tiny +little hands, and a shout of 'Bravo, Lanty! build half-way between the +two White-thorns above the boreen'; and after another hearty little +shout of exultation, there was a brisk rushing noise, and they were +heard no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + +<p>The story, however, does not end here; for Lanty, when digging the +foundation of his new house, found the full of a <i>kam</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> of gold: so +that in leaving to the fairies their play-ground, he became a richer +man than ever he otherwise would have been, had he never come in +contact with them at all.</p> +<div class="footnotes"> + <h3>FOOTNOTES. + </h3> + <div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Kam</i>—a metal vessel in which the peasantry dip +rushlights.</p></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_015.jpg" width="600" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="THE_RIVAL_KEMPERS" id="THE_RIVAL_KEMPERS"></a>THE RIVAL KEMPERS</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By William Carleton</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>n the north of Ireland there are spinning meetings of unmarried +females frequently held at the houses of farmers, called <i>kemps</i>. +Every young woman who has got the reputation of being a quick and +expert spinner attends where the kemp is to be held, at an hour +usually before daylight, and on these occasions she is accompanied by +her sweetheart or some male relative, who carries her wheel, and +conducts her safely across the fields or along the road, as the case +may be. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> kemp is, indeed, an animated and joyous scene, and one, +besides, which is calculated to promote industry and decent pride. +Scarcely anything can be more cheering and agreeable than to hear at a +distance, breaking the silence of morning, the light-hearted voices of +many girls either in mirth or song, the humming sound of the busy +wheels—jarred upon a little, it is true, by the stridulous noise and +checkings of the reels, and the voices of the reelers, as they call +aloud the checks, together with the name of the girl and the quantity +she has spun up to that period; for the contest is generally commenced +two or three hours before daybreak. This mirthful spirit is also +sustained by the prospect of a dance—with which, by the way, every +kemp closes; and when the fair victor is declared, she is to be looked +upon as the queen of the meeting, and treated with the necessary +respect.</p> + +<p>But to our tale. Every one knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> Shaun Buie M'Gaveran to be the +cleanest, best-conducted boy, and the most industrious too, in the +whole parish of Faugh-a-ballagh. Hard was it to find a young fellow +who could handle a flail, spade, or reaping-hook in better style, or +who could go through his day's work in a more creditable or +workmanlike manner. In addition to this, he was a fine, well-built, +handsome young man as you could meet in a fair; and so, sign was on +it, maybe the pretty girls weren't likely to pull each other's caps +about him. Shaun, however, was as prudent as he was good-looking; and +although he wanted a wife, yet the sorrow one of him but preferred +taking a well-handed, smart girl, who was known to be well-behaved and +industrious, like himself. Here, however, was where the puzzle lay on +him; for instead of one girl of that kind, there were in the +neighbourhood no less than a dozen of them—all equally fit and +willing to become his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> wife, and all equally good-looking. There were +two, however, whom he thought a trifle above the rest; but so nicely +balanced were Biddy Corrigan and Sally Gorman, that for the life of +him he could not make up his mind to decide between them. Each of them +had won her kemp; and it was currently said by them who ought to know, +that neither of them could over-match the other. No two girls in the +parish were better respected, or deserved to be so; and the +consequence was, they had every one's good word and good wish. Now it +so happened that Shaun had been pulling a cord with each; and as he +knew not how to decide between, he thought he would allow them to do +that themselves if they could. He accordingly gave out to the +neighbours that he would hold a kemp on that day week, and he told +Biddy and Sally especially that he had made up his mind to marry +whichever of them won the kemp, for he knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> right well, as did all +the parish, that one of them must. The girls agreed to this very +good-humouredly, Biddy telling Sally that she (Sally) would surely win +it; and Sally, not to be outdone in civility, telling the same thing +to her.</p> + +<p>Well, the week was nearly past, there being but two days till that of +the kemp, when, about three o'clock, there walks into the house of old +Paddy Corrigan a little woman dressed in high-heeled shoes and a short +red cloak. There was no one in the house but Biddy at the time, who +rose up and placed a chair near the fire, and asked the little red +woman to sit down and rest herself. She accordingly did so, and in a +short time a lively chat commenced between them.</p> + +<p>'So,' said the strange woman, 'there's to be a great kemp in Shaun +Buie M'Gaveran's?'</p> + +<p>'Indeed there is that, good woman,' replied Biddy, smiling and +blushing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> back of that again, because she knew her own fate +depended on it.</p> + +<p>'And,' continued the little woman, 'whoever wins the kemp wins a +husband?'</p> + +<p>'Ay, so it seems.'</p> + +<p>'Well, whoever gets Shaun will be a happy woman, for he's the moral of +a good boy.'</p> + +<p>'That's nothing but the truth, anyhow,' replied Biddy, sighing, for +fear, you may be sure, that she herself might lose him; and indeed a +young woman might sigh from many a worse reason. 'But,' said she, +changing the subject, 'you appear to be tired, honest woman, an' I +think you had better eat a bit, an' take a good drink of <i>buinnhe +ramwher</i> (thick milk) to help you on your journey.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you kindly, a colleen,' said the woman; 'I'll take a bit, if +you plase, hopin', at the same time, that you won't be the poorer of +it this day twelve months.'</p> + +<p>'Sure,' said the girl, 'you know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> that what we give from kindness ever +an' always leaves a blessing behind it.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, acushla, when it <i>is</i> given from kindness.'</p> + +<p>She accordingly helped herself to the food that Biddy placed before +her, and appeared, after eating, to be very much refreshed.</p> + +<p>'Now,' said she, rising up, 'you're a very good girl, an' if you are +able to find out my name before Tuesday morning, the kemp-day, I tell +you that you'll win it, and gain the husband.'</p> + +<p>'Why,' said Biddy, 'I never saw you before. I don't know who you are, +nor where you live; how then can I ever find out your name?'</p> + +<p>'You never saw me before, sure enough,' said the old woman, 'an' I +tell you that you never will see me again but once; an' yet if you +have not my name for me at the close of the kemp, you'll lose all, an' +that will leave you a sore heart, for well I know you love Shaun +Buie.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>So saying, she went away, and left poor Biddy quite cast down at what +she had said, for, to tell the truth, she loved Shaun very much, and +had no hopes of being able to find out the name of the little woman, +on which, it appeared, so much to her depended.</p> + +<p>It was very near the same hour of the same day that Sally Gorman was +sitting alone in her father's house, thinking of the kemp, when who +should walk in to her but our friend the little red woman.</p> + +<p>'God save you, honest woman,' said Sally, 'this is a fine day that's +in it, the Lord be praised!'</p> + +<p>'It is,' said the woman, 'as fine a day as one could wish for: indeed +it is.'</p> + +<p>'Have you no news on your travels?' asked Sally.</p> + +<p>'The only news in the neighbourhood,' replied the other, 'is this +great kemp that's to take place at Shaun Buie M'Gaveran's. They say +you're<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> either to win him or lose him then,' she added, looking +closely at Sally as she spoke.</p> + +<p>'I'm not very much afraid of that,' said Sally, with confidence; 'but +even if I do lose him, I may get as good.'</p> + +<p>'It's not easy gettin' as good,' rejoined the old woman, 'an' you +ought to be very glad to win him, if you can.'</p> + +<p>'Let me alone for that,' said Sally. 'Biddy's a good girl, I allow; +but as for spinnin', she never saw the day she could leave me behind +her. Won't you sit an' rest you?' she added; 'maybe you're tired.'</p> + +<p>'It's time for you to think of it,' <i>thought</i> the woman, but she spoke +nothing: 'but,' she added to herself on reflection, 'it's better late +than never—I'll sit awhile, till I see a little closer what she's +made of.'</p> + +<p>She accordingly sat down and chatted upon several subjects, such as +young women like to talk about, for about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> half an hour; after which +she arose, and taking her little staff in hand, she bade Sally +good-bye, and went her way. After passing a little from the house she +looked back, and could not help speaking to herself as follows:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She's smooth and smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she wants the heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's tight and neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she gave no meat.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Poor Biddy now made all possible inquiries about the old woman, but to +no purpose. Not a soul she spoke to about her had ever seen or heard +of such a woman. She felt very dispirited, and began to lose heart, +for there is no doubt that if she missed Shaun it would have cost her +many a sorrowful day. She knew she would never get his equal, or at +least any one that she loved so well. At last the kemp day came, and +with it all the pretty girls of the neighbourhood to Shaun Buie's. +Among the rest, the two that were to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> decide their right to him were +doubtless the handsomest pair by far, and every one admired them. To +be sure, it was a blythe and merry place, and many a light laugh and +sweet song rang out from pretty lips that day. Biddy and Sally, as +every one expected, were far ahead of the rest, but so even in their +spinning that the reelers could not for the life of them declare which +was the better. It was neck-and-neck and head-and-head between the +pretty creatures, and all who were at the kemp felt themselves wound +up to the highest pitch of interest and curiosity to know which of +them would be successful.</p> + +<p>The day was now more than half gone, and no difference was between +them, when, to the surprise and sorrow of every one present, Biddy +Corrigan's <i>heck</i> broke in two, and so to all appearance ended the +contest in favour of her rival; and what added to her mortification, +she was as ignorant of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> the red little woman's name as ever. What was +to be done? All that could be done was done. Her brother, a boy of +about fourteen years of age, happened to be present when the accident +took place, having been sent by his father and mother to bring them +word how the match went on between the rival spinsters. Johnny +Corrigan was accordingly despatched with all speed to Donnel +M'Cusker's, the wheelwright, in order to get the heck mended, that +being Biddy's last but hopeless chance. Johnny's anxiety that his +sister should win was of course very great, and in order to lose as +little time as possible he struck across the country, passing through, +or rather close by, Kilrudden forth, a place celebrated as a resort of +the fairies. What was his astonishment, however, as he passed a +White-thorn tree, to hear a female voice singing, in accompaniment to +the sound of a spinning-wheel, the following words:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's a girl in this town doesn't know my name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my name's Even Trot—Even Trot.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'There's a girl in this town,' said the lad, 'who's in great distress, +for she has broken her heck, and lost a husband. I'm now goin' to +Donnel M'Cusker's to get it mended.'</p> + +<p>'What's her name?' said the little red woman.</p> + +<p>'Biddy Corrigan.'</p> + +<p>The little woman immediately whipped out the heck from her own wheel, +and giving it to the boy, desired him to take it to his sister, and +never mind Donnel M'Cusker.</p> + +<p>'You have little time to lose,' she added, 'so go back and give her +this; but don't tell her how you got it, nor, above all things, that +it was Even Trot that gave it to you.'</p> + +<p>The lad returned, and after giving the heck to his sister, as a matter +of course told her that it was a little red woman called Even Trot +that sent it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> to her, a circumstance which made tears of delight start +to Biddy's eyes, for she knew now that Even Trot was the name of the +old woman, and having known that, she felt that something good would +happen to her. She now resumed her spinning, and never did human +fingers let down the thread so rapidly. The whole kemp were amazed at +the quantity which from time to time filled her pirn. The hearts of +her friends began to rise, and those of Sally's party to sink, as hour +after hour she was fast approaching her rival, who now spun if +possible with double speed on finding Biddy coming up with her. At +length they were again even, and just at that moment in came her +friend the little red woman, and asked aloud, 'Is there any one in +this kemp that knows my name?' This question she asked three times +before Biddy could pluck up courage to answer her. She at last said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's a girl in this town does know your name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your name is Even Trot—Even Trot.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'Ay,' said the old woman, 'and so it is; and let that name be your +guide and your husband's through life. Go steadily along, but let your +step be even; stop little; keep always advancing; and you'll never +have cause to rue the day that you first saw Even Trot.'</p> + +<p>We need scarcely add that Biddy won the kemp and the husband, and that +she and Shaun lived long and happily together; and I have only now to +wish, kind reader, that you and I may live longer and more happily +still.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_009.jpg" width="600" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="THE_YOUNG_PIPER" id="THE_YOUNG_PIPER"></a>THE YOUNG PIPER</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Crofton Croker</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="75" height="74" /></div> +<p>here lived not long since, on the borders of the county Tipperary, a +decent honest couple, whose names were Mick Flannigan and Judy +Muldoon. These poor people were blessed, as the saying is, with four +children, all boys: three of them were as fine, stout, healthy, +good-looking children as ever the sun shone upon; and it was enough to +make any Irishman proud of the breed of his countrymen to see them +about one o'clock on a fine summer's day standing at their father's +cabin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> door, with their beautiful flaxen hair hanging in curls about +their head, and their cheeks like two rosy apples, and a big laughing +potato smoking in their hand. A proud man was Mick of these fine +children, and a proud woman, too, was Judy; and reason enough they had +to be so. But it was far otherwise with the remaining one, which was +the third eldest: he was the most miserable, ugly, ill-conditioned +brat that ever God put life into; he was so ill-thriven that he never +was able to stand alone, or to leave his cradle; he had long, shaggy, +matted, curled hair, as black as the soot; his face was of a +greenish-yellow colour; his eyes were like two burning coals, and were +for ever moving in his head, as if they had the perpetual motion. +Before he was a twelvemonth old he had a mouth full of great teeth; +his hands were like kites' claws, and his legs were no thicker than +the handle of a whip, and about as straight as a reaping-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>hook: to +make the matter worse, he had the appetite of a cormorant, and the +whinge, and the yelp, and the screech, and the yowl, was never out of +his mouth.</p> + +<p>The neighbours all suspected that he was something not right, +particularly as it was observed, when people, as they do in the +country, got about the fire, and began to talk of religion and good +things, the brat, as he lay in the cradle, which his mother generally +put near the fireplace that he might be snug, used to sit up, as they +were in the middle of their talk, and begin to bellow as if the devil +was in him in right earnest; this, as I said, led the neighbours to +think that all was not right, and there was a general consultation +held one day about what would be best to do with him. Some advised to +put him out on the shovel, but Judy's pride was up at that. A pretty +thing indeed, that a child of hers should be put on a shovel and +flung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> out on the dunghill just like a dead kitten or a poisoned rat; +no, no, she would not hear to that at all. One old woman, who was +considered very skilful and knowing in fairy matters, strongly +recommended her to put the tongs in the fire, and heat them red hot, +and to take his nose in them, and that would beyond all manner of +doubt make him tell what he was and where he came from (for the +general suspicion was, that he had been changed by the good people); +but Judy was too softhearted, and too fond of the imp, so she would +not give in to this plan, though everybody said she was wrong, and +maybe she was, but it's hard to blame a mother. Well, some advised one +thing, and some another; at last one spoke of sending for the priest, +who was a very holy and a very learned man, to see it. To this Judy of +course had no objection; but one thing or other always prevented her +doing so, and the upshot of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> business was that the priest never +saw him.</p> + +<p>Things went on in the old way for some time longer. The brat continued +yelping and yowling, and eating more than his three brothers put +together, and playing all sorts of unlucky tricks, for he was mighty +mischievously inclined, till it happened one day that Tim Carrol, the +blind piper, going his rounds, called in and sat down by the fire to +have a bit of chat with the woman of the house. So after some time +Tim, who was no churl of his music, yoked on the pipes, and began to +bellows away in high style; when the instant he began, the young +fellow, who had been lying as still as a mouse in his cradle, sat up, +began to grin and twist his ugly face, to swing about his long tawny +arms, and to kick out his crooked legs, and to show signs of great +glee at the music. At last nothing would serve him but he should get +the pipes into his own hands, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> to humour him his mother asked Tim +to lend them to the child for a minute. Tim, who was kind to children, +readily consented; and as Tim had not his sight, Judy herself brought +them to the cradle, and went to put them on him; but she had no +occasion, for the youth seemed quite up to the business. He buckled on +the pipes, set the bellows under one arm, and the bag under the other, +worked them both as knowingly as if he had been twenty years at the +business, and lilted up 'Sheela na guira' in the finest style +imaginable.</p> + +<p>All were in astonishment: the poor woman crossed herself. Tim, who, as +I said before, was <i>dark</i>, and did not well know who was playing, was +in great delight; and when he heard that it was a little <i>prechan</i> not +five years old, that had never seen a set of pipes in his life, he +wished the mother joy of her son; offered to take him off her hands if +she would part with him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> swore he was a <i>born</i> piper, a natural +<i>genus</i>, and declared that in a little time more, with the help of a +little good instruction from himself, there would not be his match in +the whole country. The poor woman was greatly delighted to hear all +this, particularly as what Tim said about natural <i>genus</i> quieted some +misgivings that were rising in her mind, lest what the neighbours said +about his not being right might be too true; and it gratified her +moreover to think that her dear child (for she really loved the whelp) +would not be forced to turn out and beg, but might earn decent bread +for himself. So when Mick came home in the evening from his work, she +up and told him all that had happened, and all that Tim Carrol had +said; and Mick, as was natural, was very glad to hear it, for the +helpless condition of the poor creature was a great trouble to him. So +next day he took the pig to the fair, and with what it brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> set +off to Clonmel, and bespoke a bran-new set of pipes, of the proper +size for him.</p> + +<p>In about a fortnight the pipes came home, and the moment the chap in +his cradle laid eyes on them he squealed with delight and threw up his +pretty legs, and bumped himself in his cradle, and went on with a +great many comical tricks; till at last, to quiet him, they gave him +the pipes, and he immediately set to and pulled away at 'Jig Polthog,' +to the admiration of all who heard him.</p> + +<p>The fame of his skill on the pipes soon spread far and near, for there +was not a piper in the six next counties could come at all near him, +in 'Old Moderagh rue,' or 'The Hare in the Corn,' or 'The Fox-hunter's +Jig,' or 'The Rakes of Cashel,' or 'The Piper's Maggot,' or any of the +fine Irish jigs which make people dance whether they will or no: and +it was surprising to hear him rattle away 'The Fox-hunt'; you'd really +think you heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> the hounds giving tongue, and the terriers yelping +always behind, and the huntsman and the whippers-in cheering or +correcting the dogs; it was, in short, the very next thing to seeing +the hunt itself.</p> + +<p>The best of him was, he was noways stingy of his music, and many a +merry dance the boys and girls of the neighbourhood used to have in +his father's cabin; and he would play up music for them, that they +said used as it were to put quicksilver in their feet; and they all +declared they never moved so light and so airy to any piper's playing +that ever they danced to.</p> + +<p>But besides all his fine Irish music, he had one queer tune of his +own, the oddest that ever was heard; for the moment he began to play +it everything in the house seemed disposed to dance; the plates and +porringers used to jingle on the dresser, the pots and pot-hooks used +to rattle in the chimney,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> and people used even to fancy they felt the +stools moving from under them; but, however it might be with the +stools, it is certain that no one could keep long sitting on them, for +both old and young always fell to capering as hard as ever they could. +The girls complained that when he began this tune it always threw them +out in their dancing, and that they never could handle their feet +rightly, for they felt the floor like ice under them, and themselves +every moment ready to come sprawling on their backs or their faces. +The young bachelors who wished to show off their dancing and their new +pumps, and their bright red or green and yellow garters, swore that it +confused them so that they never could go rightly through the <i>heel +and toe</i> or <i>cover the buckle</i>, or any of their best steps, but felt +themselves always all bedizzied and bewildered, and then old and young +would go jostling and knocking to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>gether in a frightful manner; and +when the unlucky brat had them all in this way, whirligigging about +the floor, he'd grin and chuckle and chatter, for all the world like +Jacko the monkey when he has played off some of his roguery.</p> + +<p>The older he grew the worse he grew, and by the time he was six years +old there was no standing the house for him; he was always making his +brothers burn or scald themselves, or break their shins over the pots +and stools. One time, in harvest, he was left at home by himself, and +when his mother came in she found the cat a-horseback on the dog, with +her face to the tail, and her legs tied round him, and the urchin +playing his queer tune to them; so that the dog went barking and +jumping about, and puss was mewing for the dear life, and slapping her +tail backwards and forwards, which, as it would hit against the dog's +chaps, he'd snap at and bite, and then there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> was the philliloo. +Another time, the farmer with whom Mick worked, a very decent, +respectable man, happened to call in, and Judy wiped a stool with her +apron, and invited him to sit down and rest himself after his walk. He +was sitting with his back to the cradle, and behind him was a pan of +blood, for Judy was making pig's puddings. The lad lay quite still in +his nest, and watched his opportunity till he got ready a hook at the +end of a piece of twine, which he contrived to fling so handily that +it caught in the bob of the man's nice new wig, and soused it in the +pan of blood. Another time his mother was coming in from milking the +cow, with the pail on her head: the minute he saw her he lilted up his +infernal tune, and the poor woman, letting go the pail, clapped her +hands aside, and began to dance a jig, and tumbled the milk all a-top +of her husband, who was bringing in some turf to boil the supper. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +short, there would be no end to telling all his pranks, and all the +mischievous tricks he played.</p> + +<p>Soon after, some mischances began to happen to the farmer's cattle. A +horse took the staggers, a fine veal calf died of the black-leg, and +some of his sheep of the red-water; the cows began to grow vicious, +and to kick down the milk-pails, and the roof of one end of the barn +fell in; and the farmer took it into his head that Mick Flannigan's +unlucky child was the cause of all the mischief. So one day he called +Mick aside, and said to him, 'Mick, you see things are not going on +with me as they ought, and to be plain with you, Mick, I think that +child of yours is the cause of it. I am really falling away to nothing +with fretting, and I can hardly sleep on my bed at night for thinking +of what may happen before the morning. So I'd be glad if you'd look +out for work somewhere else; you're as good a man as any in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +country, and there's no fear but you'll have your choice of work.' To +this Mick replied, 'that he was sorry for his losses, and still +sorrier that he or his should be thought to be the cause of them; that +for his own part he was not quite easy in his mind about that child, +but he had him and so must keep him'; and he promised to look out for +another place immediately.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, next Sunday at chapel Mick gave out that he was about +leaving the work at John Riordan's, and immediately a farmer who lived +a couple of miles off, and who wanted a ploughman (the last one having +just left him), came up to Mick, and offered him a house and garden, +and work all the year round. Mick, who knew him to be a good employer, +immediately closed with him; so it was agreed that the farmer should +send a car<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> to take his little bit of furniture, and that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>he should +remove on the following Thursday.</p> + +<p>When Thursday came, the car came according to promise, and Mick loaded +it, and put the cradle with the child and his pipes on the top, and +Judy sat beside it to take care of him, lest he should tumble out and +be killed. They drove the cow before them, the dog followed, but the +cat was of course left behind; and the other three children went along +the road picking skeehories (haws) and blackberries, for it was a fine +day towards the latter end of harvest.</p> + +<p>They had to cross a river, but as it ran through a bottom between two +high banks, you did not see it till you were close on it. The young +fellow was lying pretty quiet in the bottom of the cradle, till they +came to the head of the bridge, when hearing the roaring of the water +(for there was a great flood in the river, as it had rained heavily +for the last two or three days),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> he sat up in his cradle and looked +about him; and the instant he got a sight of the water, and found they +were going to take him across it, oh, how he did bellow and how he did +squeal! no rat caught in a snap-trap ever sang out equal to him. +'Whist! A lanna,' said Judy, 'there's no fear of you; sure it's only +over the stone bridge we're going.'—'Bad luck to you, you old rip!' +cried he, 'what a pretty trick you've played me to bring me here!' and +still went on yelling, and the farther they got on the bridge the +louder he yelled; till at last Mick could hold out no longer, so +giving him a great skelp of the whip he had in his hand, 'Devil choke +you, you brat!' said he, 'will you never stop bawling? a body can't +hear their ears for you.' The moment he felt the thong of the whip he +leaped up in the cradle, clapped the pipes under his arm, gave a most +wicked grin at Mick, and jumped clean over the battlements<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> of the +bridge down into the water. 'Oh, my child, my child!' shouted Judy, +'he's gone for ever from me.' Mick and the rest of the children ran to +the other side of the bridge, and looking over, they saw him coming +out from under the arch of the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the top +of a white-headed wave, and playing away on the pipes as merrily as if +nothing had happened. The river was running very rapidly, so he was +whirled away at a great rate; but he played as fast, ay, and faster, +than the river ran; and though they set off as hard as they could +along the bank, yet, as the river made a sudden turn round the hill, +about a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he +was out of sight, and no one ever laid eyes on him more; but the +general opinion was that he went home with the pipes to his own +relations, the good people, to make music for them.</p> +<div class="footnotes"> + <h3>FOOTNOTES. + </h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Car, a cart.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_010.jpg" width="600" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="A_FAIRY_ENCHANTMENT" id="A_FAIRY_ENCHANTMENT"></a>A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT</h2> + +<h3><i>Story-teller</i>—<span class="smcap">Michael Hart</span></h3> + +<h3><i>Recorder</i>—<span class="smcap">W. B. Yeats</span></h3> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>n the times when we used to travel by canal I was coming down from +Dublin. When we came to Mullingar the canal ended, and I began to +walk, and stiff and fatigued I was after the slowness. I had some +friends with me, and now and then we walked, now and then we rode in a +cart. So on till we saw some girls milking a cow, and stopped to joke +with them. After a while we asked them for a drink of milk. 'We have +nothing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> put it in here,' they said, 'but come to the house with +us.' We went home with them and sat round the fire talking. After a +while the others went, and left me, loath to stir from the good fire. +I asked the girls for something to eat. There was a pot on the fire, +and they took the meat out and put it on a plate and told me to eat +only the meat that came from the head. When I had eaten, the girls +went out and I did not see them again.</p> + +<p>It grew darker and darker, and there I still sat, loath as ever to +leave the good fire; and after a while two men came in, carrying +between them a corpse. When I saw them I hid behind the door. Says one +to the other, 'Who'll turn the spit?' Says the other, 'Michael Hart, +come out of that and turn the meat!' I came out in a tremble and began +turning the spit. 'Michael Hart,' says the one who spoke first, 'if +you let it burn we will have to put you on the spit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> instead,' and on +that they went out. I sat there trembling and turning the corpse until +midnight. The men came again, and the one said it was burnt, and the +other said it was done right, but having fallen out over it, they both +said they would do me no harm that time; and sitting by the fire one +of them cried out, 'Michael Hart, can you tell a story?' 'Never a +one,' said I. On that he caught me by the shoulders and put me out +like a shot.</p> + +<p>It was a wild, blowing night; never in all my born days did I see such +a night—the darkest night that ever came out of the heavens. I did +not know where I was for the life of me. So when one of the men came +after me and touched me on the shoulder with a 'Michael Hart, can you +tell a story now?'—'I can,' says I. In he brought me, and, putting me +by the fire, says 'Begin.' 'I have no story but the one,' says I, +'that I was sitting here, and that you two men brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> in a corpse +and put it on the spit and set me turning it.' 'That will do,' says +he; 'you may go in there and lie down on the bed.' And in I went, +nothing loath, and in the morning where was I but in the middle of a +green field.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_011.jpg" width="600" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="TEIGUE_OF_THE_LEE" id="TEIGUE_OF_THE_LEE"></a>TEIGUE OF THE LEE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Crofton Croker</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p> can't stop in the house—I won't stop in it for all the money that +is buried in the old castle of Carrigrohan. If ever there was such a +thing in the world!—to be abused to my face night and day, and nobody +to the fore doing it! and then, if I'm angry, to be laughed at with a +great roaring ho, ho, ho! I won't stay in the house after to-night, if +there was not another place in the country to put my head under.' This +angry soliloquy was pronounced in the hall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> of the old manor-house of +Carrigrohan by John Sheehan. John was a new servant; he had been only +three days in the house, which had the character of being haunted, and +in that short space of time he had been abused and laughed at by a +voice which sounded as if a man spoke with his head in a cask; nor +could he discover who was the speaker, or from whence the voice came. +'I'll not stop here,' said John; 'and that ends the matter.'</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho! be quiet, John Sheehan, or else worse will happen to +you.'</p> + +<p>John instantly ran to the hall window, as the words were evidently +spoken by a person immediately outside, but no one was visible. He had +scarcely placed his face at the pane of glass when he heard another +loud 'Ho, ho, ho!' as if behind him in the hall; as quick as lightning +he turned his head, but no living thing was to be seen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho, John!' shouted a voice that appeared to come from the +lawn before the house: 'do you think you'll see Teigue?—oh, never! as +long as you live! so leave alone looking after him, and mind your +business; there's plenty of company to dinner from Cork to be here +to-day, and 'tis time you had the cloth laid.'</p> + +<p>'Lord bless us! there's more of it!—I'll never stay another day +here,' repeated John.</p> + +<p>'Hold your tongue, and stay where you are quietly, and play no tricks +on Mr. Pratt, as you did on Mr. Jervois about the spoons.'</p> + +<p>John Sheehan was confounded by this address from his invisible +persecutor, but nevertheless he mustered courage enough to say, 'Who +are you? come here, and let me see you, if you are a man'; but he +received in reply only a laugh of unearthly derision, which was +followed by a 'Good-bye—I'll watch you at dinner, John!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Lord between us and harm! this beats all! I'll watch you at dinner! +maybe you will! 'tis the broad daylight, so 'tis no ghost; but this is +a terrible place, and this is the last day I'll stay in it. How does +he know about the spoons? if he tells it I'm a ruined man! there was +no living soul could tell it to him but Tim Barrett, and he's far +enough off in the wilds of Botany Bay now, so how could he know it? I +can't tell for the world! But what's that I see there at the corner of +the wall! 'tis not a man! oh, what a fool I am! 'tis only the old +stump of a tree! But this is a shocking place—I'll never stop in it, +for I'll leave the house to-morrow; the very look of it is enough to +frighten any one.'</p> + +<p>The mansion had certainly an air of desolation; it was situated in a +lawn, which had nothing to break its uniform level save a few tufts of +narcissuses and a couple of old trees coeval with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> the building. The +house stood at a short distance from the road, it was upwards of a +century old, and Time was doing his work upon it; its walls were +weather-stained in all colours, its roof showed various white patches, +it had no look of comfort; all was dim and dingy without, and within +there was an air of gloom, of departed and departing greatness, which +harmonised well with the exterior. It required all the exuberance of +youth and of gaiety to remove the impression, almost amounting to awe, +with which you trod the huge square hall, paced along the gallery +which surrounded the hall, or explored the long rambling passages +below stairs. The ballroom, as the large drawing-room was called, and +several other apartments, were in a state of decay; the walls were +stained with damp, and I remember well the sensation of awe which I +felt creeping over me when, boy as I was, and full of boyish life and +wild and ardent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> spirits, I descended to the vaults; all without and +within me became chilled beneath their dampness and gloom—their +extent, too, terrified me; nor could the merriment of my two +schoolfellows, whose father, a respectable clergyman, rented the +dwelling for a time, dispel the feelings of a romantic imagination +until I once again ascended to the upper regions.</p> + +<p>John had pretty well recovered himself as the dinner-hour approached, +and several guests arrived. They were all seated at the table, and had +begun to enjoy the excellent repast, when a voice was heard in the +lawn.</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho! Mr. Pratt, won't you give poor Teigue some dinner? ho, +ho! a fine company you have there, and plenty of everything that's +good; sure you won't forget poor Teigue?'</p> + +<p>John dropped the glass he had in his hand.</p> + +<p>'Who is that?' said Mr. Pratt's brother, an officer of the artillery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>'That is Teigue,' said Mr. Pratt, laughing, 'whom you must often have +heard me mention.'</p> + +<p>'And pray, Mr. Pratt,' inquired another gentleman, 'who <i>is</i> Teigue?'</p> + +<p>'That,' he replied, 'is more than I can tell. No one has ever been +able to catch even a glimpse of him. I have been on the watch for a +whole evening with three of my sons, yet, although his voice sometimes +sounded almost in my ear, I could not see him. I fancied, indeed, that +I saw a man in a white frieze jacket pass into the door from the +garden to the lawn, but it could be only fancy, for I found the door +locked, while the fellow, whoever he is, was laughing at our trouble. +He visits us occasionally, and sometimes a long interval passes +between his visits, as in the present case; it is now nearly two years +since we heard that hollow voice outside the window. He has never done +any injury that we know of, and once when he broke a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> plate, he +brought one back exactly like it.'</p> + +<p>'It is very extraordinary,' exclaimed several of the company.</p> + +<p>'But,' remarked a gentleman to young Mr. Pratt, 'your father said he +broke a plate; how did he get it without your seeing him?'</p> + +<p>'When he asks for some dinner we put it outside the window and go +away; whilst we watch he will not take it, but no sooner have we +withdrawn than it is gone.'</p> + +<p>'How does he know that you are watching?'</p> + +<p>'That's more than I can tell, but he either knows or suspects. One day +my brothers Robert and James with myself were in our back parlour, +which has a window into the garden, when he came outside and said, +"Ho, ho, ho! Master James and Robert and Henry, give poor Teigue a +glass of whisky." James went out of the room, filled a glass with +whisky, vinegar, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> salt, and brought it to him. "Here, Teigue," +said he, "come for it now."—"Well, put it down, then, on the step +outside the window." This was done, and we stood looking at it. +"There, now, go away," he shouted. We retired, but still watched it. +"Ho, ho! you are watching Teigue! go out of the room, now, or I won't +take it." We went outside the door and returned, the glass was gone, +and a moment after we heard him roaring and cursing frightfully. He +took away the glass, but the next day it was on the stone step under +the window, and there were crumbs of bread in the inside, as if he had +put it in his pocket; from that time he has not been heard till +to-day.'</p> + +<p>'Oh,' said the colonel, 'I'll get a sight of him; you are not used to +these things; an old soldier has the best chance, and as I shall +finish my dinner with this wing, I'll be ready for him when he speaks +next—Mr. Bell, will you take a glass of wine with me?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell,' shouted Teigue. 'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, you were a +Quaker long ago. Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, you're a pretty boy! a pretty +Quaker you were; and now you're no Quaker, nor anything else: ho, ho! +Mr. Bell. And there's Mr. Parkes: to be sure, Mr. Parkes looks mighty +fine to-day, with his powdered head, and his grand silk stockings and +his bran-new rakish-red waistcoat. And there's Mr. Cole: did you ever +see such a fellow? A pretty company you've brought together, Mr. +Pratt: kiln-dried Quakers, butter-buying buckeens from Mallow Lane, +and a drinking exciseman from the Coal Quay, to meet the great +thundering artillery general that is come out of the Indies, and is +the biggest dust of them all.'</p> + +<p>'You scoundrel!' exclaimed the colonel, 'I'll make you show yourself'; +and snatching up his sword from a corner of the room, he sprang out of +the window upon the lawn. In a moment a shout of laughter, so hollow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +so unlike any human sound, made him stop, as well as Mr. Bell, who +with a huge oak stick was close at the colonel's heels; others of the +party followed to the lawn, and the remainder rose and went to the +windows. 'Come on, colonel,' said Mr. Bell; 'let us catch this +impudent rascal.'</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, here I am—here's Teigue—why don't you catch him? +Ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, what a pretty soldier you are to draw your +sword upon poor Teigue, that never did anybody harm.'</p> + +<p>'Let us see your face, you scoundrel,' said the colonel.</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho!—look at me—look at me: do you see the wind, Colonel +Pratt? you'll see Teigue as soon; so go in and finish your dinner.'</p> + +<p>'If you're upon the earth, I'll find you, you villain!' said the +colonel, whilst the same unearthly shout of derision seemed to come +from behind an angle of the building. 'He's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> round that corner,' said +Mr. Bell, 'run, run.'</p> + +<p>They followed the sound, which was continued at intervals along the +garden wall, but could discover no human being; at last both stopped +to draw breath, and in an instant, almost at their ears, sounded the +shout—</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, do you see Teigue now? do you hear him? +Ho, ho, ho! you're a fine colonel to follow the wind.'</p> + +<p>'Not that way, Mr. Bell—not that way; come here,' said the colonel.</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho! what a fool you are; do you think Teigue is going to show +himself to you in the field, there? But, colonel, follow me if you +can: you a soldier! ho, ho, ho!' The colonel was enraged: he followed +the voice over hedge and ditch, alternately laughed at and taunted by +the unseen object of his pursuit (Mr. Bell, who was heavy, was soon +thrown out); until at length, after being led a weary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> chase, he found +himself at the top of the cliff, over that part of the river Lee, +which, from its great depth, and the blackness of its water, has +received the name of Hell-hole. Here, on the edge of the cliff, stood +the colonel out of breath, and mopping his forehead with his +handkerchief, while the voice, which seemed close at his feet, +exclaimed, 'Now, Colonel Pratt, now, if you're a soldier, here's a +leap for you! Now look at Teigue—why don't you look at him? Ho, ho, +ho! Come along; you're warm, I'm sure, Colonel Pratt, so come in and +cool yourself; Teigue is going to have a swim!' The voice seemed as if +descending amongst the trailing ivy and brushwood which clothes this +picturesque cliff nearly from top to bottom, yet it was impossible +that any human being could have found footing. 'Now, colonel, have you +courage to take the leap? Ho, ho, ho! what a pretty soldier you are. +Good-bye; I'll see you again in ten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> minutes above, at the house—look +at your watch, colonel: there's a dive for you'; and a heavy plunge +into the water was heard. The colonel stood still, but no sound +followed, and he walked slowly back to the house, not quite half a +mile from the Crag.</p> + +<p>'Well, did you see Teigue?' said his brother, whilst his nephews, +scarcely able to smother their laughter, stood by.</p> + +<p>'Give me some wine,' said the colonel. 'I never was led such a dance +in my life; the fellow carried me all round and round till he brought +me to the edge of the cliff, and then down he went into Hell-hole, +telling me he'd be here in ten minutes; 'tis more than that now, but +he's not come.'</p> + +<p>'Ho, ho, ho! colonel, isn't he here? Teigue never told a lie in his +life: but, Mr. Pratt, give me a drink and my dinner, and then +good-night to you all,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> for I'm tired; and that's the colonel's +doing.' A plate of food was ordered; it was placed by John, with fear +and trembling, on the lawn under the window. Every one kept on the +watch, and the plate remained undisturbed for some time.</p> + +<p>'Ah! Mr. Pratt, will you starve poor Teigue? Make every one go away +from the windows, and Master Henry out of the tree, and Master Richard +off the garden wall.'</p> + +<p>The eyes of the company were turned to the tree and the garden wall; +the two boys' attention was occupied in getting down; the visitors +were looking at them; and 'Ho, ho, ho!—good luck to you, Mr. Pratt! +'tis a good dinner, and there's the plate, ladies and gentlemen. +Good-bye to you, colonel!—good-bye, Mr. Bell! good-bye to you all!' +brought their attention back, when they saw the empty plate lying on +the grass; and Teigue's voice was heard no more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> for that evening. +Many visits were afterwards paid by Teigue; but never was he seen, nor +was any discovery ever made of his person or character.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="600" height="226" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="THE_FAIRY_GREYHOUND" id="THE_FAIRY_GREYHOUND"></a>THE FAIRY GREYHOUND</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="75" height="78" /></div> +<p>addy M'Dermid was one of the most rollicking boys in the whole county +of Kildare. Fair or pattern<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> wouldn't be held barring he was in the +midst of it. He was in every place, like bad luck, and his poor little +farm was seldom sowed in season; and where he expected barley, there +grew nothing but weeds. Money became scarce in poor Paddy's pocket; +and the cow went after the pig, until nearly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>all he had was gone. +Lucky however for him, if he had <i>gomch</i> (sense) enough to mind it, he +had a most beautiful dream one night as he lay tossicated (drunk) in +the Rath<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> of Monogue, because he wasn't able to come home. He dreamt +that, under the place where he lay, a pot of money was buried since +long before the memory of man. Paddy kept the dream to himself until +the next night, when, taking a spade and pickaxe, with a bottle of +holy water, he went to the Rath, and, having made a circle round the +place, commenced diggin' sure enough, for the bare life and sowl of +him thinkin' that he was made up for ever and ever. He had sunk about +twice the depth of his knees, when <i>whack</i> the pickaxe struck against +a flag, and at the same time Paddy heard something breathe quite near +him. He looked up, and just <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>fornent him there sat on his haunches a +comely-looking greyhound.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/image_013.jpg" width="450" height="758" alt=""FORNENT HIM THERE SAT ON HIS HAUNCHES A COMELY-LOOKING +GREYHOUND." [Page 71." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"FORNENT HIM THERE SAT ON HIS HAUNCHES A COMELY-LOOKING +GREYHOUND."</span> +</div> + +<p>'God save you,' said Paddy, every hair in his head standing up as +straight as a sally twig.</p> + +<p>'Save you kindly,' answered the greyhound—leaving out God, the beast, +bekase he was the divil. Christ defend us from ever seeing the likes +o' him.</p> + +<p>'Musha, Paddy M'Dermid,' said he, 'what would you be looking after in +that grave of a hole you're diggin' there?'</p> + +<p>'Faith, nothing at all, at all,' answered Paddy; bekase you see he +didn't like the stranger.</p> + +<p>'Arrah, be easy now, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the greyhound; 'don't I +know very well what you are looking for?'</p> + +<p>'Why then in truth, if you do, I may as well tell you at wonst, +particularly as you seem a civil-looking gentleman, that's not above +speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>ing to a poor gossoon like myself.' (Paddy wanted to butter him +up a bit.)</p> + +<p>'Well then,' said the greyhound, 'come out here and sit down on this +bank,' and Paddy, like a gomulagh (fool), did as he was desired, but +had hardly put his brogue outside of the circle made by the holy +water, when the beast of a hound set upon him, and drove him out of +the Rath; for Paddy was frightened, as well he might, at the fire that +flamed from his mouth. But next night he returned, full sure the money +was there. As before, he made a circle, and touched the flag, when my +gentleman, the greyhound, appeared in the ould place.</p> + +<p>'Oh ho,' said Paddy, 'you are there, are you? but it will be a long +day, I promise you, before you trick me again'; and he made another +stroke at the flag.</p> + +<p>'Well, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> hound, 'since you will have money, +you must; but say, how much will satisfy you?'</p> + +<p>Paddy scratched his conlaan, and after a while said—</p> + +<p>'How much will your honour give me?' for he thought it better to be +civil.</p> + +<p>'Just as much as you consider reasonable, Paddy M'Dermid.'</p> + +<p>'Egad,' says Paddy to himself, 'there's nothing like axin' enough.'</p> + +<p>'Say fifty thousand pounds,' said he. (He might as well have said a +hundred thousand, for I'll be bail the beast had money gulloure.)</p> + +<p>'You shall have it,' said the hound; and then, after trotting away a +little bit, he came back with a crock full of guineas between his +paws.</p> + +<p>'Come here and reckon them,' said he; but Paddy was up to him, and +refused to stir, so the crock was shoved alongside the blessed and +holy circle, and Paddy pulled it in, right glad to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> have it in his +clutches, and never stood still until he reached his own home, where +his guineas turned into little bones, and his ould mother laughed at +him. Paddy now swore vengeance against the deceitful beast of a +greyhound, and went next night to the Rath again, where, as before, he +met Mr. Hound.</p> + +<p>'So you are here again, Paddy?' said he.</p> + +<p>'Yes, you big blaggard,' said Paddy, 'and I'll never leave this place +until I pull out the pot of money that's buried here.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you won't,' said he. 'Well, Paddy M'Dermid, since I see you are +such a brave venturesome fellow I'll be after making you up if you +walk downstairs with me out of the could'; and sure enough it was +snowing like murder.</p> + +<p>'Oh may I never see Athy if I do,' returned Paddy, 'for you only want +to be loading me with ould bones,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> or perhaps breaking my own, which +would be just as bad.'</p> + +<p>''Pon honour,' said the hound, 'I am your friend; and so don't stand +in your own light; come with me and your fortune is made. Remain where +you are and you'll die a beggar-man.' So bedad, with one palaver and +another, Paddy consented; and in the middle of the Rath opened up a +beautiful staircase, down which they walked; and after winding and +turning they came to a house much finer than the Duke of Leinster's, +in which all the tables and chairs were solid gold. Paddy was +delighted; and after sitting down, a fine lady handed him a glass of +something to drink; but he had hardly swallowed a spoonful when all +around set up a horrid yell, and those who before appeared beautiful +now looked like what they were—enraged 'good people' (fairies). +Before Paddy could bless himself, they seized him, legs and arms, +carried him out to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> great high hill that stood like a wall over a +river, and flung him down. 'Murder!' cried Paddy; but it was no use, +no use; he fell upon a rock, and lay there as dead until next morning, +where some people found him in the trench that surrounds the <i>mote</i> of +Coulhall, the 'good people' having carried him there; and from that +hour to the day of his death he was the greatest object in the world. +He walked double, and had his mouth (God bless us) where his ear +should be.</p> +<div class="footnotes"> + <h3>FOOTNOTES. + + </h3> + <div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> A merry-making in the honour of some patron saint.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Raths are little fields enclosed by circular ditches. +They are thought to be the sheep-folds and dwellings of an ancient +people.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_008.jpg" width="600" height="228" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="THE_LADY_OF_GOLLERUS" id="THE_LADY_OF_GOLLERUS"></a>THE LADY OF GOLLERUS</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Crofton Croker</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>n the shore of Smerwick harbour, one fine summer's morning, just at +daybreak, stood Dick Fitzgerald 'shoghing the dudeen,' which may be +translated, smoking his pipe. The sun was gradually rising behind the +lofty Brandon, the dark sea was getting green in the light, and the +mists clearing away out of the valleys went rolling and curling like +the smoke from the corner of Dick's mouth.</p> + +<p>''Tis just the pattern of a pretty morning,' said Dick, taking the +pipe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> from between his lips, and looking towards the distant ocean, +which lay as still and tranquil as a tomb of polished marble. 'Well, +to be sure,' continued he, after a pause, ''tis mighty lonesome to be +talking to one's self by way of company, and not to have another soul +to answer one—nothing but the child of one's own voice, the echo! I +know this, that if I had the luck, or may be the misfortune,' said +Dick, with a melancholy smile, 'to have the woman, it would not be +this way with me! and what in the wide world is a man without a wife? +He's no more surely than a bottle without a drop of drink in it, or +dancing without music, or the left leg of a scissors, or a +fishing-line without a hook, or any other matter that is no ways +complete. Is it not so?' said Dick Fitzgerald, casting his eyes +towards a rock upon the strand, which, though it could not speak, +stood up as firm and looked as bold as ever Kerry witness did.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>But what was his astonishment at beholding, just at the foot of that +rock, a beautiful young creature combing her hair, which was of a +sea-green colour; and now the salt water shining on it appeared, in +the morning light, like melted butter upon cabbage.</p> + +<p>Dick guessed at once that she was a Merrow,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> although he had never +seen one before, for he spied the <i>cohuleen driuth</i>, or little +enchanted cap, which the sea people use for diving down into the +ocean, lying upon the strand near her; and he had heard that, if once +he could possess himself of the cap she would lose the power of going +away into the water: so he seized it with all speed, and she, hearing +the noise, turned her head about as natural as any Christian.</p> + +<p>When the Merrow saw that her little diving-cap was gone, the salt +tears—doubly salt, no doubt, from her—came trickling down her +cheeks, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>she began a low mournful cry with just the tender voice +of a new-born infant. Dick, although he knew well enough what she was +crying for, determined to keep the <i>cohuleen driuth</i>, let her cry +never so much, to see what luck would come out of it. Yet he could not +help pitying her; and when the dumb thing looked up in his face, with +her cheeks all moist with tears, 'twas enough to make any one feel, +let alone Dick, who had ever and always, like most of his countrymen, +a mighty tender heart of his own.</p> + +<p>'Don't cry, my darling,' said Dick Fitzgerald; but the Merrow, like +any bold child, only cried the more for that.</p> + +<p>Dick sat himself down by her side, and took hold of her hand by way of +comforting her. 'Twas in no particular an ugly hand, only there was a +small web between the fingers, as there is in a duck's foot; but 'twas +as thin and as white as the skin between egg and shell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>'What's your name, my darling?' says Dick, thinking to make her +conversant with him; but he got no answer; and he was certain sure +now, either that she could not speak, or did not understand him: he +therefore squeezed her hand in his, as the only way he had of talking +to her. It's the universal language; and there's not a woman in the +world, be she fish or lady, that does not understand it.</p> + +<p>The Merrow did not seem much displeased at this mode of conversation; +and making an end of her whining all at once, 'Man,' says she, looking +up in Dick Fitzgerald's face; 'man, will you eat me?'</p> + +<p>'By all the red petticoats and check aprons between Dingle and +Tralee,' cried Dick, jumping up in amazement, 'I'd as soon eat myself, +my jewel! Is it I eat you, my pet? Now, 'twas some ugly ill-looking +thief of a fish put that notion into your own pretty head, with the +nice green hair down upon it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> that is so cleanly combed out this +morning!'</p> + +<p>'Man,' said the Merrow, 'what will you do with me if you won't eat +me?'</p> + +<p>Dick's thoughts were running on a wife: he saw, at the first glimpse, +that she was handsome; but since she spoke, and spoke too like any +real woman, he was fairly in love with her. 'Twas the neat way she +called him man that settled the matter entirely.</p> + +<p>'Fish,' says Dick, trying to speak to her after her own short fashion; +'fish,' says he, 'here's my word, fresh and fasting, for you this +blessed morning, that I'll make you Mistress Fitzgerald before all the +world, and that's what I'll do.'</p> + +<p>'Never say the word twice,' says she; 'I'm ready and willing to be +yours, Mister Fitzgerald; but stop, if you please, till I twist up my +hair.' It was some time before she had settled it entirely to her +liking; for she guessed, I suppose, that she was going among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +strangers, where she would be looked at. When that was done, the +Merrow put the comb in her pocket, and then bent down her head and +whispered some words to the water that was close to the foot of the +rock.</p> + +<p>Dick saw the murmur of the words upon the top of the sea, going out +towards the wide ocean, just like a breath of wind rippling along, +and, says he, in the greatest wonder, 'Is it speaking you are, my +darling, to the salt water?'</p> + +<p>'It's nothing else,' says she, quite carelessly; 'I'm just sending +word home to my father not to be waiting breakfast for me; just to +keep him from being uneasy in his mind.'</p> + +<p>'And who's your father, my duck?' said Dick.</p> + +<p>'What!' said the Merrow, 'did you never hear of my father? he's the +king of the waves to be sure!'</p> + +<p>'And yourself, then, is a real king's daughter?' said Dick, opening +his two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> eyes to take a full and true survey of his wife that was to +be. 'Oh, I'm nothing else but a made man with you, and a king your +father; to be sure he has all the money that's down at the bottom of +the sea!'</p> + +<p>'Money,' repeated the Merrow, 'what's money?'</p> + +<p>''Tis no bad thing to have when one wants it,' replied Dick; 'and may +be now the fishes have the understanding to bring up whatever you bid +them?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' said the Merrow, 'they bring me what I want.'</p> + +<p>'To speak the truth then,' said Dick, ''tis a straw bed I have at home +before you, and that, I'm thinking, is no ways fitting for a king's +daughter; so if 'twould not be displeasing to you, just to mention a +nice feather bed, with a pair of new blankets—but what am I talking +about? may be you have not such things as beds down under the water?'</p> + +<p>'By all means,' said she, 'Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> Fitzgerald—plenty of beds at your +service. I've fourteen oyster-beds of my own, not to mention one just +planting for the rearing of young ones.'</p> + +<p>'You have?' says Dick, scratching his head and looking a little +puzzled. ''Tis a feather bed I was speaking of; but, clearly, yours is +the very cut of a decent plan to have bed and supper so handy to each +other, that a person when they'd have the one need never ask for the +other.'</p> + +<p>However, bed or no bed, money or no money, Dick Fitzgerald determined +to marry the Merrow, and the Merrow had given her consent. Away they +went, therefore, across the strand, from Gollerus to Ballinrunnig, +where Father Fitzgibbon happened to be that morning.</p> + +<p>'There are two words to this bargain, Dick Fitzgerald,' said his +Reverence, looking mighty glum. 'And is it a fishy woman you'd marry? +The Lord preserve us! Send the scaly creature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> home to her own people; +that's my advice to you, wherever she came from.'</p> + +<p>Dick had the <i>cohuleen driuth</i> in his hand, and was about to give it +back to the Merrow, who looked covetously at it, but he thought for a +moment, and then says he, 'Please your Reverence, she's a king's +daughter.'</p> + +<p>'If she was the daughter of fifty kings,' said Father Fitzgibbon, 'I +tell you, you can't marry her, she being a fish.'</p> + +<p>'Please your Reverence,' said Dick again, in an undertone, 'she is as +mild and as beautiful as the moon.'</p> + +<p>'If she was as mild and as beautiful as the sun, moon, and stars, all +put together, I tell you, Dick Fitzgerald,' said the Priest, stamping +his right foot, 'you can't marry her, she being a fish.'</p> + +<p>'But she has all the gold that's down in the sea only for the asking, +and I'm a made man if I marry her; and,' said Dick, looking up slily, +'I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> make it worth any one's while to do the job.'</p> + +<p>'Oh! that alters the case entirely,' replied the Priest; 'why there's +some reason now in what you say: why didn't you tell me this before? +marry her by all means, if she was ten times a fish. Money, you know, +is not to be refused in these bad times, and I may as well have the +hansel of it as another, that may be would not take half the pains in +counselling you that I have done.'</p> + +<p>So Father Fitzgibbon married Dick Fitzgerald to the Merrow, and like +any loving couple, they returned to Gollerus well pleased with each +other. Everything prospered with Dick—he was at the sunny side of the +world; the Merrow made the best of wives, and they lived together in +the greatest contentment.</p> + +<p>It was wonderful to see, considering where she had been brought up, +how she would busy herself about the house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> and how well she nursed +the children; for, at the end of three years there were as many young +Fitzgeralds—two boys and a girl.</p> + +<p>In short, Dick was a happy man, and so he might have been to the end +of his days if he had only had the sense to take care of what he had +got; many another man, however, beside Dick, has not had wit enough to +do that.</p> + +<p>One day, when Dick was obliged to go to Tralee, he left the wife +minding the children at home after him, and thinking she had plenty to +do without disturbing his fishing-tackle.</p> + +<p>Dick was no sooner gone than Mrs. Fitzgerald set about cleaning up the +house, and chancing to pull down a fishing-net, what should she find +behind it in a hole in the wall but her own <i>cohuleen driuth</i>. She +took it out and looked at it, and then she thought of her father the +king, and her mother the queen, and her brothers and sisters,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> and she +felt a longing to go back to them.</p> + +<p>She sat down on a little stool and thought over the happy days she had +spent under the sea; then she looked at her children, and thought on +the love and affection of poor Dick, and how it would break his heart +to lose her. 'But,' says she, 'he won't lose me entirely, for I'll +come back to him again, and who can blame me for going to see my +father and my mother after being so long away from them?'</p> + +<p>She got up and went towards the door, but came back again to look once +more at the child that was sleeping in the cradle. She kissed it +gently, and as she kissed it a tear trembled for an instant in her eye +and then fell on its rosy cheek. She wiped away the tear, and turning +to the eldest little girl, told her to take good care of her brothers, +and to be a good child herself until she came back. The Merrow then +went down to the strand. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> sea was lying calm and smooth, just +heaving and glittering in the sun, and she thought she heard a faint +sweet singing, inviting her to come down. All her old ideas and +feelings came flooding over her mind, Dick and her children were at +the instant forgotten, and placing the <i>cohuleen driuth</i> on her head +she plunged in.</p> + +<p>Dick came home in the evening, and missing his wife he asked Kathleen, +his little girl, what had become of her mother, but she could not tell +him. He then inquired of the neighbours, and he learned that she was +seen going towards the strand with a strange-looking thing like a +cocked hat in her hand. He returned to his cabin to search for the +<i>cohuleen driuth</i>. It was gone, and the truth now flashed upon him.</p> + +<p>Year after year did Dick Fitzgerald wait expecting the return of his +wife, but he never saw her more. Dick never married again, always +thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> that the Merrow would sooner or later return to him, and +nothing could ever persuade him but that her father the king kept her +below by main force; 'for,' said Dick, 'she surely would not of +herself give up her husband and her children.'</p> + +<p>While she was with him she was so good a wife in every respect that to +this day she is spoken of in the tradition of the country as the +pattern for one, under the name of <span class="smcap">The Lady of Gollerus</span>.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + <h3>FOOTNOTES. + </h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Sea fairy.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="EVIL_SPIRITS" id="EVIL_SPIRITS"></a>EVIL SPIRITS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_015.jpg" width="600" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_MILL" id="THE_DEVILS_MILL"></a>THE DEVIL'S MILL</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Samuel Lover</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_y.jpg" alt="Y" width="75" height="79" /></div> +<p>ou see, sir, there was a colonel wanst, in times back, that owned a +power of land about here—but God keep uz, they said he didn't come by +it honestly, but did a crooked turn whenever 'twas to sarve himself.</p> + +<p>Well, the story goes that at last the divil (God bless us) kem to him, +and promised him hapes o' money, and all his heart could desire and +more, too, if he'd sell his sowl in exchange.</p> + +<p>He was too cunnin' for that; bad as he was—and he was bad enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> God +knows—he had some regard for his poor sinful sowl, and he would not +give himself up to the divil, all out; but, the villain, he thought he +might make a bargain with the <i>old chap</i>, and get all he wanted, and +keep himself out of harm's way still: for he was mighty 'cute—and, +throth, he was able for Owld Nick any day.</p> + +<p>Well, the bargain was struck, and it was this-a-way: the divil was to +give him all the goold ever he'd ask for, and was to let him alone as +long as he could; and the timpter promised him a long day, and said +'twould be a great while before he'd want him at all, at all; and whin +that time kem, he was to keep his hands aff him, as long as the other +could give him some work he couldn't do.</p> + +<p>So, when the bargain was made, 'Now,' says the colonel to the divil, +'give me all the money I want.'</p> + +<p>'As much as you like,' says Owld Nick; 'how much will you have?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>'You must fill me that room,' says he, pointin' into a murtherin' big +room that he emptied out on purpose—'you must fill that room,' says +he, 'up to the very ceilin' with goolden guineas.'</p> + +<p>'And welkem,' says the divil.</p> + +<p>With that, sir, he began to shovel the guineas into the room like mad; +and the colonel towld him, that as soon as he was done, to come to him +in his own parlour below, and that he would then go up and see if the +divil was as good as his word, and had filled the room with the +goolden guineas. So the colonel went downstairs, and the owld fellow +worked away as busy as a nailer, shovellin' in the guineas by +hundherds and thousands.</p> + +<p>Well, he worked away for an hour and more, and at last he began to get +tired; and he thought it <i>mighty odd</i> that the room wasn't fillin' +fasther. Well, afther restin' for awhile, he began agin, and he put +his shouldher to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> work in airnest; but still the room was no +fuller at all, at all.</p> + +<p>'Och! bad luck to me,' says the divil, 'but the likes of this I never +seen,' says he, 'far and near, up and down—the dickens a room I ever +kem across afore,' says he, 'I couldn't cram while a cook would be +crammin' a turkey, till now; and here I am,' says he, 'losin' my whole +day, and I with such a power o' work an my hands yit, and this room no +fuller than five minutes ago.'</p> + +<p>Begor, while he was spakin' he seen the hape o' guineas in the middle +of the flure growing <i>littler and littler</i> every minit; and at last +they wor disappearing, for all the world like corn in the hopper of a +mill.</p> + +<p>'Ho! ho!' says Owld Nick, 'is that the way wid you?' says he; and wid +that, he ran over to the hape of goold—and what would you think, but +it was runnin' down through a great big hole in the flure, that the +colonel made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> through the ceilin' in the room below; and that was the +work he was at afther he left the divil, though he purtended he was +only waitin' for him in his parlour; and there the divil, when he +looked down the hole in the flure, seen the colonel, not content with +the <i>two</i> rooms full of guineas, but with a big shovel throwin' them +into a closet a' one side of him as fast as they fell down. So, +putting his head through the hole, he called down to the colonel:</p> + +<p>'Hillo, neighbour!' says he.</p> + +<p>The colonel looked up, and grew as white as a sheet, when he seen he +was found out, and the red eyes starin' down at him through the hole.</p> + +<p>'Musha, bad luck to your impudence!' says Owld Nick: 'it is sthrivin' +to chate <i>me</i> you are,' says he, 'you villain!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, forgive me for this wanst!' says the colonel, 'and, upon the +honour of a gintleman,' says he, 'I'll never——'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Whisht! whisht! you thievin' rogue,' says the divil, 'I'm not angry +with you at all, at all, but only like you the betther, bekase you're +so cute;—lave off slaving yourself there,' says he, 'you have got +goold enough for this time; and whenever you want more, you have only +to say the word, and it shall be yours to command.'</p> + +<p>So with that, the divil and he parted for that time: and myself +doesn't know whether they used to meet often afther or not; but the +colonel never wanted money, anyhow, but went on prosperous in the +world—and, as the saying is, if he took the dirt out o' the road, it +id turn to money wid him; and so, in course of time, he bought great +estates, and was a great man entirely—not a greater in Ireland, +throth.</p> + +<p>At last, afther many years of prosperity, the owld colonel got +stricken in years, and he began to have misgivings in his conscience +for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> wicked doings, and his heart was heavy as the fear of death +came upon him; and sure enough, while he had such murnful thoughts, +the divil kem to him, and towld him <i>he should go wid him</i>.</p> + +<p>Well, to be sure, the owld man was frekened, but he plucked up his +courage and his cuteness, and towld the divil, in a bantherin' way, +jokin' like, that he had partic'lar business thin, that he was goin' +to a party, and hoped an <i>owld friend</i> wouldn't inconvaynience him +that-a-way.</p> + +<p>The divil said he'd call the next day, and that he must be ready; and +sure enough in the evenin' he kem to him; and when the colonel seen +him, he reminded him of his bargain that as long as he could give him +some work he couldn't do, he wasn't obleeged to go.</p> + +<p>'That's thrue,' says the divil.</p> + +<p>'I'm glad you're as good as your word, anyhow,' says the colonel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I never bruk my word yit,' says the owld chap, cocking up his horns +consaitedly; 'honour bright,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Well then,' says the colonel, 'build me a mill, down there, by the +river,' says he, 'and let me have it finished by to-morrow mornin'.'</p> + +<p>'Your will is my pleasure,' says the owld chap, and away he wint; and +the colonel thought he had nicked Owld Nick at last, and wint to bed +quite aisy in his mind.</p> + +<p>But, <i>jewel machree</i>, sure the first thing he heerd the next mornin' +was that the whole counthry round was runnin' to see a fine bran new +mill that was an the river-side, where the evening before not a thing +at all, at all, but rushes was standin', and all, of coorse, wonderin' +what brought it there; and some sayin' 'twas not lucky, and many more +throubled in their mind, but one and all agreein' it was no <i>good</i>; +and that's the very mill forninst you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>But when the colonel heered it he was more throubled than any, of +coorse, and began to conthrive what else he could think iv to keep +himself out iv the claws of the <i>owld one</i>. Well, he often heerd tell +that there was one thing the divil never could do, and I darsay you +heerd it too, sir,—that is, that he couldn't make a rope out of the +sands of the say; and so when the <i>owld one</i> kem to him the next day +and said his job was done, and that now the mill was built he must +either tell him somethin' else he wanted done, or come away wid him.</p> + +<p>So the colonel said he saw it was all over wid him. 'But,' says he, 'I +wouldn't like to go wid you alive, and sure it's all the same to you, +alive or dead?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that won't do,' says his frind; 'I can't wait no more,' says he.</p> + +<p>'I don't want you to wait, my dear frind,' says the colonel; 'all I +want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> is, that you'll be plased to kill me before you take me away.'</p> + +<p>'With pleasure,' says Owld Nick.</p> + +<p>'But will you promise me my choice of dyin' one partic'lar way?' says +the colonel.</p> + +<p>'Half a dozen ways, if it plazes you,' says he.</p> + +<p>'You're mighty obleegin',' says the colonel; 'and so,' says he, 'I'd +rather die by bein' hanged with a rope <i>made out of the sands of the +say</i>,' says he, lookin' mighty knowin' at the <i>owld fellow</i>.</p> + +<p>'I've always one about me,' says the divil, 'to obleege my frinds,' +says he; and with that he pulls out a rope made of sand, sure enough.</p> + +<p>'Oh, it's game you're makin',' says the colonel, growin' as white as a +sheet.</p> + +<p>'The <i>game is mine</i>, sure enough,' says the owld fellow, grinnin', +with a terrible laugh.</p> + +<p>'That's not a sand-rope at all,' says the colonel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Isn't it?' says the divil, hittin' him acrass the face with the ind +iv the rope, and the sand (for it <i>was</i> made of sand, sure enough) +went into one of his eyes, and made the tears come with the pain.</p> + +<p>'That bates all I ever seen or heerd,' says the colonel, sthrivin' to +rally and make another offer; 'is there anything you <i>can't</i> do?'</p> + +<p>'Nothing you can tell me,' says the divil, 'so you may as well leave +off your palaverin' and come along at wanst.'</p> + +<p>'Will you give me one more offer,' says the colonel.</p> + +<p>'You don't desarve it,' says the divil; 'but I don't care if I do'; +for you see, sir, he was only playin' wid him, and tantalising the +owld sinner.</p> + +<p>'All fair,' says the colonel, and with that he ax'd him could he stop +a woman's tongue.</p> + +<p>'Thry me,' says Owld Nick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Well then,' says the colonel, 'make my lady's tongue be quiet for the +next month and I'd thank you.'</p> + +<p>'She'll never trouble you agin,' says Owld Nick; and with that the +colonel heerd roarin' and cryin', and the door of his room was thrown +open and in ran his daughter, and fell down at his feet, telling him +her mother had just dhropped dead.</p> + +<p>The minit the door opened, the divil runs and hides himself behind a +big elbow-chair; and the colonel was frekened almost out of his siven +sinses by raison of the sudden death of his poor lady, let alone the +jeopardy he was in himself, seein' how the divil had <i>forestalled</i> him +every way; and after ringin' his bell and callin' to his sarvants and +recoverin' his daughter out of her faint, he was goin' away wid her +out of the room, whin the divil caught howld of him by the skirt of +the coat, and the colonel was obleeged to let his daughter be carried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +out by the sarvants, and shut the door afther them.</p> + +<p>'Well,' says the divil, and he grinn'd and wagg'd his tail, all as one +as a dog when he's plaised; 'what do you say now?' says he.</p> + +<p>'Oh,' says the colonel, 'only lave me alone until I bury my poor +wife,' says he, 'and I'll go with you then, you villain,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Don't call names,' says the divil; 'you had better keep a civil +tongue in your head,' says he; 'and it doesn't become a gintleman to +forget good manners.'</p> + +<p>'Well, sir, to make a long story short, the divil purtended to let him +off, out of kindness, for three days antil his wife was buried; but +the raison of it was this, that when the lady his daughter fainted, he +loosened the clothes about her throat, and in pulling some of her +dhress away, he tuk off a goold chain that was on her neck and put it +in his pocket,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> and the chain had a diamond crass on it (the Lord be +praised!) and the divil darn't touch him while he had <i>the sign of the +crass</i> about him.</p> + +<p>Well, the poor colonel (God forgive him!) was grieved for the loss of +his lady, and she had an <i>illigant berrin</i>—and they say that when the +prayers was readin' over the dead, the owld colonel took it to heart +like anything, and the word o' God kem home to his poor sinful sowl at +last.</p> + +<p>Well, sir, to make a long story short, the ind of it was, that for the +three days o' grace that was given to him the poor deluded owld sinner +did nothin' at all but read the Bible from mornin' till night, and bit +or sup didn't pass his lips all the time, he was so intint upon the +Holy Book, but he sat up in an owld room in the far ind of the house, +and bid no one disturb him an no account, and struv to make his heart +bould with the words iv life; and sure it was somethin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> strinthened +him at last, though as the time drew nigh that the <i>inimy</i> was to +come, he didn't feel aisy, and no wondher; and, bedad the three days +was past and gone in no time, and the story goes that at the dead hour +o' the night, when the poor sinner was readin' away as fast as he +could, my jew'l, his heart jumped up to his mouth at gettin' a tap on +the shoulder.</p> + +<p>'Oh, murther!' says he, 'who's there?' for he was afeard to look up.</p> + +<p>'It's me,' says the <i>owld one</i>, and he stood right forninst him, and +his eyes like coals o' fire, lookin' him through, and he said, with a +voice that almost split his owld heart, 'Come!' says he.</p> + +<p>'Another day!' cried out the poor colonel.</p> + +<p>'Not another hour,' says Sat'n.</p> + +<p>'Half an hour!'</p> + +<p>'Not a quarther,' says the divil, grinnin' with a bitther laugh; +'give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> over your reading I bid you,' says he, 'and come away wid me.'</p> + +<p>'Only gi' me a few minits,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Lave aff your palaverin' you snakin' owld sinner,' says Sat'n; 'you +know you're bought and sould to me, and a purty bargain I have o' you, +you owld baste,' says he; 'so come along at wanst,' and he put out his +claw to ketch him; but the colonel tuk a fast hould o' the Bible, and +begged hard that he'd let him alone, and wouldn't harm him antil the +bit o' candle that was just blinkin' in the socket before him was +burned out.</p> + +<p>'Well, have it so, you dirty coward,' says Owld Nick, and with that he +spit an him.</p> + +<p>But the poor owld colonel didn't lose a minit (for he was cunnin' to +the ind), but snatched the little taste o' candle that was forninst +him out o' the candlestick, and puttin' it an the Holy Book before +him, he shut down the cover of it and quinched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> the light. With that +the divil gave a roar like a bull, and vanished in a flash o' fire, +and the poor colonel fainted away in his chair; but the sarvants heerd +the noise (for the divil tore aff the roof o' the house when he left +it), and run into the room, and brought their master to himself agin. +And from that day he was an althered man, and used to have the Bible +read to him every day, for he couldn't read himself any more, by +raison of losin' his eyesight when the divil hit him with the rope of +sand in the face, and afther spit an him—for the sand wint into one +eye, and he lost the other that-a-way, savin' your presence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_009.jpg" width="600" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="FERGUS_OMARA_AND_THE_AIR-DEMONS" id="FERGUS_OMARA_AND_THE_AIR-DEMONS"></a>FERGUS O'MARA AND THE AIR-DEMONS</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Dr. P. W. Joyce</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>f all the different kinds of goblins that haunted the lonely places +of Ireland in days of old, air-demons were most dreaded by the people. +They lived among clouds, and mists, and rocks, and they hated the +human race with the utmost malignity. In those times lived in the +north of Desmond (the present county of Cork) a man man named Fergus +O'Mara. His farm lay on the southern slope of the Ballyhoura +Mountains, along which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> ran the open road that led to his house. This +road was not shut in by walls or fences; but on both sides there were +scattered trees and bushes that sheltered it in winter, and made it +dark and gloomy when you approached the house at night. Beside the +road, a little way off from the house, there was a spot that had an +evil name all over the country, a little hill covered closely with +copsewood, with a great craggy rock on top, from which, on stormy +nights, strange and fearful sounds had often been heard—shrill +voices, and screams, mingled with loud fiendish laughter; and the +people believed that it was the haunt of air-demons. In some way it +had become known that these demons had an eye on Fergus, and watched +for every opportunity to get him into their power. He had himself been +warned of this many years before, by an old monk from the neighbouring +monastery of Buttevant, who told him, moreover,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> that so long as he +led a blameless, upright life, he need have no fear of the demons; but +that if ever he yielded to temptation or fell into any great sin, then +would come the opportunity for which they were watching day and night. +He never forgot this warning, and he was very careful to keep himself +straight, both because he was naturally a good man, and for fear of +the air-demons.</p> + +<p>Some time before the occurrence about to be related, one of Fergus's +children, a sweet little girl about seven years of age, fell ill and +died. The little thing gradually wasted away, but suffered no pain; +and as she grew weaker she became more loving and gentle than ever, +and talked in a wonderful way, quite beyond her years, of the bright +land she was going to. One thing she was particularly anxious about, +that when she was dying they should let her hold a blessed candle in +her hand. They thought it very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> strange that she should be so +continually thinking and talking of this; and over and over again she +made her father and mother promise that it should be done. And with +the blessed candle in her hand she died so calmly and sweetly that +those round her bed could not tell the exact moment.</p> + +<p>About a year after this, on a bright Sunday morning in October, Fergus +set out for Mass. The place was about three miles away, and it was not +a chapel,<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> but a lonely old fort, called to this day Lissanaffrin, +the fort of the Mass. A rude stone altar stood at one side near the +mound of the fort, under a little shed that sheltered the priest also; +and the congregation worshipped in the open air on the green plot in +the centre. For in those days there were many places that had no +chapels; and the people flocked to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>these open-air Masses as +faithfully as we do now to our stately comfortable chapels. The family +had gone on before, the men walking and the women and children riding; +and Fergus set out to walk alone.</p> + +<p>Just as he approached the Demons' Rock he was greatly surprised to +hear the eager yelping of dogs, and in a moment a great deer bounded +from the covert beside the rock, with three hounds after her in full +chase. No man in the whole country round loved a good chase better +than Fergus, or had a swifter foot to follow, and without a moment's +hesitation he started in pursuit. But in a few minutes he stopped up +short; for he bethought him of the Mass, and he knew there was little +time for delay. While he stood wavering, the deer seemed to slacken +her pace, and the hounds gained on her, and in a moment Fergus dashed +off at full speed, forgetting Mass and everything else in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +eagerness for the sport. But it turned out a long and weary chase. +Sometimes they slackened, and he was almost at the hounds' tails, but +the next moment both deer and hounds started forward and left him far +behind. Sometimes they were in full view, and again they were out of +sight in thickets and deep glens, so that he could guide himself only +by the cry of the hounds. In this way he was decoyed across hills and +glens, but instead of gaining ground he found himself rather falling +behind.</p> + +<p>Mass was all over and the people dispersed to their homes, and all +wondered that they did not see Fergus; for no one could remember that +he was ever absent before. His wife returned, expecting to find him at +home; but when she arrived there was trouble in her heart, for there +were no tidings of him, and no one had seen him since he had set out +for Mass in the morning.</p> + +<p>Meantime Fergus followed up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> chase till he was wearied out; and at +last, just on the edge of a wild moor, both deer and hounds +disappeared behind a shoulder of rock, and he lost them altogether. At +the same moment the cry of the hounds became changed to frightful +shrieks and laughter, such as he had heard more than once from the +Demons' Rock. And now, sitting down on a bank to rest, he had full +time to reflect on what he had done, and he was overwhelmed with +remorse and shame. Moreover, his heart sank within him, thinking of +the last sounds he had heard; for he believed that he had been allured +from Mass by the cunning wiles of the demons, and he feared that the +dangerous time had come foretold by the monk. He started up and set +out for his home, hoping to reach it before night. But before he had +got half-way night fell and a storm came on, great wind and rain and +bursts of thunder and lightning. Fergus was strong and active, +however,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> and knew every turn of the mountain, and he made his way +through the storm till he approached the Demons' Rock.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there burst on his ears the very same sounds that he had +heard on losing sight of the chase—shouts and shrieks and laughter. A +great black ragged cloud, whirling round and round with furious gusts +of wind, burst from the rock and came sweeping and tearing towards +him. Crossing himself in terror and uttering a short prayer, he rushed +for home. But the whirlwind swept nearer, till at last, in a sort of +dim, shadowy light, he saw the black cloud full of frightful faces, +all glaring straight at him and coming closer and closer. At this +moment a bright light dropped down from the sky and rested in front of +the cloud; and when he looked up, he saw his little child floating in +the air between him and the demons, holding a lighted candle in her +hand. And although the storm was raging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> and roaring all round, she +was quite calm—not a breath of air stirred her long yellow hair—and +the candle burned quietly. Even in the midst of all his terror he +could observe her pale gentle face and blue eyes just as when she was +alive, not showing traces of sickness or sadness now, but lighted up +with joy. The demons seemed to start back from the light, and with +great uproar rushed round to the other side of Fergus, the black cloud +still moving with them and wrapping them up in its ragged folds; but +the little angel floated softly round, still keeping between them and +her father. Fergus ran on for home, and the cloud of demons still kept +furiously whirling round and round him, bringing with them a whirlwind +that roared among the trees and bushes and tore them from the roots; +but still the child, always holding the candle towards them, kept +floating calmly round and shielded him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>At length he arrived at his house; the door lay half-open, for the +family were inside expecting him home, listening with wonder and +affright to the approaching noises; and he bounded in through the +doorway and fell flat on his face. That instant the door—though no +one was near—was shut violently, and the bolts were shot home. They +hurried anxiously round him to lift him up, but found him in a +death-like swoon. Meantime the uproar outside became greater than +ever; round and round the house it tore, a roaring whirlwind with +shouts and yells of rage, and great trampling, as if there was a whole +company of horsemen. At length, however, the noises seemed to move +away farther and farther off from the house, and gradually died away +in the distance. At the same time the storm ceased, and the night +became calm and beautiful.</p> + +<p>The daylight was shining in through the windows when Fergus recovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +from his swoon, and then he told his fearful story; but many days +passed over before he had quite recovered from the horrors of that +night. When the family came forth in the morning there was fearful +waste all round and near the house, trees and bushes torn from the +roots, and the ground all trampled and torn up. After this the revelry +of the demons was never again heard from the rock; and it was believed +that they had left it and betaken themselves to some other haunt.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + <h3>FOOTNOTES. + </h3> + <div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> A fort is the same as a rath (see <a href="#Page_70">p. 70</a>); a few are +fenced in with unmortared stone walls instead of clay ditches.</p> + </div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_010.jpg" width="600" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="THE_MAN_WHO_NEVER_KNEW_FEAR" id="THE_MAN_WHO_NEVER_KNEW_FEAR"></a>THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW FEAR</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Translated from the Gaelic by Douglas Hyde</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="75" height="74" /></div> +<p>here was once a lady, and she had two sons whose names were Louras +(Lawrence) and Carrol. From the day that Lawrence was born nothing +ever made him afraid, but Carrol would never go outside the door from +the time the darkness of the night began.</p> + +<p>It was the custom at that time when a person died for people to watch +the dead person's grave in turn, one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> after another; for there used to +be destroyers going about stealing the corpses.</p> + +<p>When the mother of Carrol and Lawrence died, Carrol said to Lawrence—</p> + +<p>'You say that nothing ever made you afraid yet, but I'll make a bet +with you that you haven't courage to watch your mother's tomb +to-night.'</p> + +<p>'I'll make a bet with you that I have,' said Lawrence.</p> + +<p>When the darkness of the night was coming, Lawrence put on his sword +and went to the burying-ground. He sat down on a tombstone near his +mother's grave till it was far in the night and sleep was coming upon +him. Then he saw a big black thing coming to him, and when it came +near him he saw that it was a head without a body that was in it. He +drew the sword to give it a blow if it should come any nearer, but it +didn't come. Lawrence remained looking at it until the light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> of the +day was coming, then the head-without-body went, and Lawrence came +home.</p> + +<p>Carrol asked him, did he see anything in the graveyard.</p> + +<p>'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and my mother's body would be gone, but that +I was guarding it.'</p> + +<p>'Was it dead or alive, the person you saw?' said Carrol.</p> + +<p>'I don't know was it dead or alive,' said Lawrence; 'there was nothing +in it but a head without a body.'</p> + +<p>'Weren't you afraid?' says Carrol.</p> + +<p>'Indeed I wasn't,' said Lawrence; 'don't you know that nothing in the +world ever put fear on me.'</p> + +<p>'I'll bet again with you that you haven't the courage to watch +to-night again,' says Carrol.</p> + +<p>'I would make that bet with you,' said Lawrence, 'but that there is a +night's sleep wanting to me. Go yourself to-night.'</p> + +<p>'I wouldn't go to the graveyard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> to-night if I were to get the riches +of the world,' says Carrol.</p> + +<p>'Unless you go your mother's body will be gone in the morning,' says +Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'If only you watch to-night and to-morrow night, I never will ask of +you to do a turn of work as long as you will be alive,' said Carrol, +'but I think there is fear on you.'</p> + +<p>'To show you that there's no fear on me,' said Lawrence, 'I will +watch.'</p> + +<p>He went to sleep, and when the evening came he rose up, put on his +sword, and went to the graveyard. He sat on a tombstone near his +mother's grave. About the middle of the night he heard a great sound +coming. A big black thing came as far as the grave and began rooting +up the clay. Lawrence drew back his sword, and with one blow he made +two halves of the big black thing, and with the second blow he made +two halves of each half, and he saw it no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lawrence went home in the morning, and Carrol asked him did he see +anything.</p> + +<p>'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and only that I was there my mother's body +would be gone.'</p> + +<p>'Is it the head-without-body that came again?' said Carrol.</p> + +<p>'It was not, but a big black thing, and it was digging up my mother's +grave until I made two halves of it.'</p> + +<p>Lawrence slept that day, and when the evening came he rose up, put on +his sword, and went to the churchyard. He sat down on a tombstone +until it was the middle of the night. Then he saw a thing as white as +snow and as hateful as sin; it had a man's head on it, and teeth as +long as a flax-carder. Lawrence drew back the sword and was going to +deal it a blow, when it said—</p> + +<p>'Hold your hand; you have saved your mother's body, and there is not a +man in Ireland as brave as you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> There is great riches waiting for you +if you go looking for it.'</p> + +<p>Lawrence went home, and Carrol asked him did he see anything.</p> + +<p>'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and but that I was there my mother's body +would be gone, but there's no fear of it now.'</p> + +<p>In the morning, the day on the morrow, Lawrence said to Carrol—</p> + +<p>'Give me my share of money, and I'll go on a journey, until I have a +look round the country.'</p> + +<p>Carrol gave him the money, and he went walking. He went on until he +came to a large town. He went into the house of a baker to get bread. +The baker began talking to him, and asked him how far he was going.</p> + +<p>'I am going looking for something that will put fear on me,' said +Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'Have you much money?' said the baker.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I have a half-hundred pounds,' said Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'I'll bet another half-hundred with you that there will be fear on you +if you go to the place that I'll bid you,' says the baker.</p> + +<p>'I'll take your bet,' said Lawrence, 'if only the place is not too far +away from me.'</p> + +<p>'It's not a mile from the place where you're standing,' said the +baker; 'wait here till the night comes, and then go to the graveyard, +and as a sign that you were in it, bring me the goblet that is upon +the altar of the old church (<i>cill</i>) that is in the graveyard.'</p> + +<p>When the baker made the bet he was certain that he would win, for +there was a ghost in the churchyard, and nobody went into it for forty +years before that whom he did not kill.</p> + +<p>When the darkness of the night came, Lawrence put on his sword and +went to the burying-ground. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> came to the door of the churchyard and +struck it with his sword. The door opened, and there came out a great +black ram, and two horns on him as long as flails. Lawrence gave him a +blow, and he went out of sight, leaving him up to the two ankles in +blood. Lawrence went into the old church, got the goblet, came back to +the baker's house, gave him the goblet, and got the bet. Then the +baker asked him did he see anything in the churchyard.</p> + +<p>'I saw a big black ram with long horns on him,' said Lawrence, 'and I +gave him a blow which drew as much blood out of him as would swim a +boat; sure he must be dead by this time.'</p> + +<p>In the morning, the day on the morrow, the baker and a lot of people +went to the graveyard and they saw the blood of the black ram at the +door. They went to the priest and told him that the black ram was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +banished out of the churchyard. The priest did not believe them, +because the churchyard was shut up forty years before that on account +of the ghost that was in it, and neither priest nor friar could banish +him. The priest came with them to the door of the churchyard, and when +he saw the blood he took courage and sent for Lawrence, and heard the +story from his own mouth. Then he sent for his blessing-materials, and +desired the people to come in till he read mass for them. The priest +went in, and Lawrence and the people after him, and he read mass +without the big black ram coming as he used to do. The priest was +greatly rejoiced, and gave Lawrence another fifty pounds.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the next day Lawrence went on his way. He travelled +the whole day without seeing a house. About the hour of midnight he +came to a great lonely valley, and he saw a large gathering of people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +looking at two men hurling. Lawrence stood looking at them, as there +was a bright light from the moon. It was the good people that were in +it, and it was not long until one of them struck a blow on the ball +and sent it into Lawrence's breast. He put his hand in after the ball +to draw it out, and what was there in it but the head of a man. When +Lawrence got a hold of it, it began screeching, and at last it asked +Lawrence—</p> + +<p>'Are you not afraid?'</p> + +<p>'Indeed I am not,' said Lawrence, and no sooner was the word spoken +than both head and people disappeared, and he was left in the glen +alone by himself.</p> + +<p>He journeyed until he came to another town, and when he ate and drank +enough, he went out on the road, and was walking until he came to a +great house on the side of the road. As the night was closing in, he +went in to try if he could get lodging.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> There was a young man at the +door who said to him—</p> + +<p>'How far are you going, or what are you in search of?'</p> + +<p>'I do not know how far I am going, but I am in search of something +that will put fear on me,' said Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'You have not far to go, then,' said the young man; 'if you stop in +that big house on the other side of the road there will be fear put on +you before morning, and I'll give you twenty pounds into the bargain.'</p> + +<p>'I'll stop in it,' said Lawrence.</p> + +<p>The young man went with him, opened the door, and brought him into a +large room in the bottom of the house, and said to him, 'Put down fire +for yourself and I'll send you plenty to eat and drink.' He put down a +fire for himself, and there came a girl to him and brought him +everything that he wanted.</p> + +<p>He went on very well, until the hour of midnight came, and then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +heard a great sound over his head, and it was not long until a +stallion and a bull came in and commenced to fight. Lawrence never put +to them nor from them, and when they were tired fighting they went +out. Lawrence went to sleep, and he never awoke until the young man +came in in the morning, and he was surprised when he saw Lawrence +alive. He asked him had he seen anything.</p> + +<p>'I saw a stallion and a bull fighting hard for about two hours,' said +Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'And weren't you afraid?' said the young man.</p> + +<p>'I was not,' says Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'If you wait to-night again, I'll give you another twenty pounds,' +says the young man.</p> + +<p>'I'll wait, and welcome,' says Lawrence.</p> + +<p>The second night, about ten o'clock, Lawrence was going to sleep, when +two black rams came in and began fighting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> hard. Lawrence neither put +to them nor from them, and when twelve o'clock struck they went out. +The young man came in the morning and asked him did he see anything +last night.</p> + +<p>'I saw two black rams fighting,' said Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'Were you afraid at all?' said the young man.</p> + +<p>'I was not,' said Lawrence.</p> + +<p>'Wait to-night, and I'll give you another twenty pounds,' says the +young man.</p> + +<p>'All right,' says Lawrence.</p> + +<p>The third night he was falling asleep, when there came in a gray old +man and said to him—</p> + +<p>'You are the best hero in Ireland; I died twenty years ago, and all +that time I have been in search of a man like you. Come with me now +till I show you your riches; I told you when you were watching your +mother's grave that there was great riches waiting for you.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>He took Lawrence to a chamber under ground, and showed him a large pot +filled with gold, and said to him—</p> + +<p>'You will have all that if you give twenty pounds to Mary Kerrigan the +widow, and get her forgiveness for me for a wrong I did her. Then buy +this house, marry my daughter, and you will be happy and rich as long +as you live.'</p> + +<p>The next morning the young man came to Lawrence and asked him did he +see anything last night.</p> + +<p>'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and it's certain that there will be a ghost +always in it, but nothing in the world would frighten me; I'll buy the +house and the land round it, if you like.'</p> + +<p>'I'll ask no price for the house, but I won't part with the land under +a thousand pounds, and I'm sure you haven't that much.'</p> + +<p>'I have more than would buy all the land and all the herds you have,' +said Lawrence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the young man heard that Lawrence was so rich, he invited him to +come to dinner. Lawrence went with him, and when the dead man's +daughter saw him she fell in love with him.</p> + +<p>Lawrence went to the house of Mary Kerrigan and gave her twenty +pounds, and got her forgiveness for the dead man. Then he married the +young man's sister and spent a happy life. He died as he lived, +without there being fear on him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CATS" id="CATS"></a>CATS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_011.jpg" width="600" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="SEANCHAN_THE_BARD_AND_THE_KING_OF_THE_CATS" id="SEANCHAN_THE_BARD_AND_THE_KING_OF_THE_CATS"></a>SEANCHAN THE BARD AND THE KING OF THE CATS</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Lady Wilde</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="75" height="76" /></div> +<p>hen Seanchan, the renowned Bard, was made <i>Ard-Filé</i> or Chief Poet of +Ireland, Guaire, the king of Connaught, to do him honour, made a great +feast for him and the whole Bardic Association. And all the professors +and learned men went to the king's house, the great ollaves of poetry +and history and music, and of the arts and sciences; and the learned, +aged females, Grug and Grag and Grangait; and all the chief poets and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +poetesses of Ireland, an amazing number. But Guaire the king +entertained them all splendidly, so that the ancient pathway to his +palace is still called 'The Road of the Dishes.'</p> + +<p>And each day he asked, 'How fares it with my noble guests?' But they +were all discontented, and wanted things he could not get for them. So +he was very sorrowful, and prayed to God to be delivered from 'the +learned men and women, a vexatious class.'</p> + +<p>Still the feast went on for three days and three nights. And they +drank and made merry. And the whole Bardic Association entertained the +nobles with the choicest music and professional accomplishments.</p> + +<p>But Seanchan sulked and would neither eat nor drink, for he was +jealous of the nobles of Connaught. And when he saw how much they +consumed of the best meats and wine, he declared he would taste no +food<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> till they and their servants were all sent away out of the +house.</p> + +<p>And when Guaire asked him again, 'How fares my noble guest, and this +great and excellent people?' Seanchan answered, 'I have never had +worse days, nor worse nights, nor worse dinners in my life.' And he +ate nothing for three whole days.</p> + +<p>Then the king was sorely grieved that the whole Bardic Association +should be feasting and drinking while Seanchan, the chief poet of +Erin, was fasting and weak. So he sent his favourite serving-man, a +person of mild manners and cleanliness, to offer special dishes to the +bard.</p> + +<p>'Take them away,' said Seanchan; 'I'll have none of them.'</p> + +<p>'And why, O Royal Bard?' asked the servitor.</p> + +<p>'Because thou art an uncomely youth,' answered Seanchan. 'Thy +grandfather was chip-nailed—I have seen him; I shall eat no food from +thy hands.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the king called a beautiful maiden to him, his foster-daughter, +and said, 'Lady, bring thou this wheaten cake and this dish of salmon +to the illustrious poet, and serve him thyself.' So the maiden went.</p> + +<p>But when Seanchan saw her he asked: 'Who sent thee hither, and why +hast thou brought me food?'</p> + +<p>'My lord the king sent me, O Royal Bard,' she answered, 'because I am +comely to look upon, and he bade me serve thee with food myself.'</p> + +<p>'Take it away,' said Seanchan, 'thou art an unseemly girl, I know of +none more ugly. I have seen thy grandmother; she sat on a wall one day +and pointed out the way with her hand to some travelling lepers. How +could I touch thy food?' So the maiden went away in sorrow.</p> + +<p>And then Guaire the king was indeed angry, and he exclaimed, 'My +malediction on the mouth that uttered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> that! May the kiss of a leper +be on Seanchan's lips before he dies!'</p> + +<p>Now there was a young serving-girl there, and she said to Seanchan, +'There is a hen's egg in the place, my lord, may I bring it to thee, O +Chief Bard?'</p> + +<p>'It will suffice,' said Seanchan; 'bring it that I may eat.'</p> + +<p>But when she went to look for it, behold the egg was gone.</p> + +<p>'Thou hast eaten it,' said the bard, in wrath.</p> + +<p>'Not so, my lord,' she answered; 'but the mice, the nimble race, have +carried it away.'</p> + +<p>'Then I will satirise them in a poem,' said Seanchan; and forthwith he +chanted so bitter a satire against them that ten mice fell dead at +once in his presence.</p> + +<p>''Tis well,' said Seanchan; 'but the cat is the one most to blame, for +it was her duty to suppress the mice. Therefore I shall satirise the +tribe of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> the cats, and their chief lord, Irusan, son of Arusan; for I +know where he lives with his wife Spit-fire, and his daughter +Sharp-tooth, with her brothers the Purrer and the Growler. But I shall +begin with Irusan himself, for he is king, and answerable for all the +cats.'</p> + +<p>And he said: 'Irusan, monster of claws, who strikes at the mouse but +lets it go; weakest of cats. The otter did well who bit off the tips +of thy progenitor's ears, so that every cat since is jagged-eared. Let +thy tail hang down; it is right, for the mouse jeers at thee.'</p> + +<p>Now Irusan heard these words in his cave, and he said to his daughter +Sharp-tooth: 'Seanchan has satirised me, but I will be avenged.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, father,' she said, 'bring him here alive that we may all take +our revenge.'</p> + +<p>'I shall go then and bring him,' said Irusan; 'so send thy brothers +after me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now when it was told to Seanchan that the King of the Cats was on his +way to come and kill him, he was timorous, and besought Guaire and all +the nobles to stand by and protect him. And before long a vibrating, +impressive, impetuous sound was heard, like a raging tempest of fire +in full blaze. And when the cat appeared he seemed to them of the size +of a bullock; and this was his appearance—rapacious, panting, +jagged-eared, snub-nosed, sharp-toothed, nimble, angry, vindictive, +glare-eyed, terrible, sharp-clawed. Such was his similitude. But he +passed on amongst them, not minding till he came to Seanchan; and him +he seized by the arm and jerked him up on his back, and made off the +way he came before any one could touch him; for he had no other object +in view but to get hold of the poet.</p> + +<p>Now Seanchan, being in evil plight, had recourse to flattery. 'O +Irusan,'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> he exclaimed, 'how truly splendid thou art: such running, +such leaps, such strength, and such agility! But what evil have I +done, O Irusan, son of Arusan? spare me, I entreat. I invoke the +saints between thee and me, O great King of the Cats.'</p> + +<p>But not a bit did the cat let go his hold for all this fine talk, but +went straight on to Clonmacnoise, where there was a forge; and St. +Kieran happened to be there standing at the door.</p> + +<p>'What!' exclaimed the saint; 'is that the Chief Bard of Erin on the +back of a cat? Has Guaire's hospitality ended in this?' And he ran for +a red-hot bar of iron that was in the furnace, and struck the cat on +the side with it, so that the iron passed through him, and he fell +down lifeless.</p> + +<p>'Now my curse on the hand that gave that blow!' said the bard, when he +got upon his feet.</p> + +<p>'And wherefore?' asked St. Kieran.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Because,' answered Seanchan, 'I would rather Irusan had killed me, +and eaten me every bit, that so I might bring disgrace on Guaire for +the bad food he gave me; for it was all owing to his wretched dinners +that I got into this plight.'</p> + +<p>And when all the other kings heard of Seanchan's misfortunes, they +sent to beg he would visit their courts. But he would have neither +kiss nor welcome from them, and went on his way to the bardic mansion, +where the best of good living was always to be had. And ever after the +kings were afraid to offend Seanchan.</p> + +<p>So as long as he lived he had the chief place at the feast, and all +the nobles there were made to sit below him, and Seanchan was content. +And in time he and Guaire were reconciled; and Seanchan and all the +ollaves, and the whole Bardic Association, were feasted by the king +for thirty days in noble style, and had the choicest of viands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> and +the best of French wines to drink, served in goblets of silver. And in +return for his splendid hospitality the Bardic Association decreed +unanimously a vote of thanks to the king. And they praised him in +poems as 'Guaire the Generous,' by which name he was ever after known +in history, for the words of the poet are immortal.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_010.jpg" width="600" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="OWNEY_AND_OWNEY-NA-PEAK" id="OWNEY_AND_OWNEY-NA-PEAK"></a>OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Gerald Griffen</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="75" height="76" /></div> +<p>hen Ireland had kings of her own—when there was no such thing as a +coat made of red cloth in the country—when there was plenty in men's +houses, and peace and quietness at men's doors (and that is a long +time since)—there lived, in a village not far from the great city of +Lumneach,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> two young men, cousins: one of them named Owney, a smart, +kind-hearted, handsome youth, with limb of a delicate form, and a very +good understanding. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>His cousin's name was Owney too, and the +neighbours christened him Owney-na-peak (Owney of the nose), on +account of a long nose he had got—a thing so out of all proportion, +that after looking at one side of his face, it was a smart morning's +walk to get round the nose and take a view of the other (at least, so +the people used to say). He was a stout, able-bodied fellow, as stupid +as a beaten hound, and he was, moreover, a cruel tyrant to his young +cousin, with whom he lived in a kind of partnership.</p> + +<p>Both of them were of a humble station. They were +smiths—white-smiths—and they got a good deal of business to do from +the lords of the court, and the knights, and all the grand people of +the city. But one day young Owney was in town, he saw a great +procession of lords, and ladies, and generals, and great people, among +whom was the king's daughter of the court—and surely it is not +possible for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> the young rose itself to be so beautiful as she was. His +heart fainted at her sight, and he went home desperately in love, and +not at all disposed to business.</p> + +<p>Money, he was told, was the surest way of getting acquainted with the +king, and so he began saving until he had put together a few +<i>hogs</i>,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> but Owney-na-peak, finding where he had hid them, seized on +the whole, as he used to do on all young Owney's earnings.</p> + +<p>One evening young Owney's mother found herself about to die, so she +called her son to her bedside and said to him: 'You have been a most +dutiful good son, and 'tis proper you should be rewarded for it. Take +this china cup to the fair,—there is a fairy gift upon it,—use your +own wit, look about you, and let the highest bidder have it—and so, +my white-headed boy,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> God bless you!'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>The young man drew the little bedcurtain down over his dead mother, +and in a few days after, with a heavy heart, he took his china cup, +and set off to the fair of Garryowen.</p> + +<p>The place was merry enough. The field that is called Gallows Green now +was covered with tents. There was plenty of wine (poteen not being +known in these days, let alone <i>parliament</i>), a great many handsome +girls, and 'tis unknown all the <i>keoh</i> that was with the boys and +themselves. Poor Owney walked all the day through the fair, wishing to +try his luck, but ashamed to offer his china cup among all the fine +things that were there for sale. Evening was drawing on at last, and +he was thinking of going home, when a strange man tapped him on the +shoulder, and said: 'My good youth, I have been marking you through +the fair the whole day, going about with that cup in your hand, +speaking to nobody, and looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> as if you would be wanting something +or another.'</p> + +<p>'I'm for selling it,' said Owney.</p> + +<p>'What is it you're for selling, you say?' said a second man, coming +up, and looking at the cup.</p> + +<p>'Why then,' said the first man, 'and what's that to you, for a prying +meddler? what do you want to know what it is he's for selling?'</p> + +<p>'Bad manners to you (and where's the use of my wishing you what you +have already?), haven't I a right to ask the price of what's in the +fair?'</p> + +<p>'E'then, the knowledge o' the price is all you'll have for it,' says +the first. 'Here, my lad, is a golden piece for your cup.'</p> + +<p>'That cup shall never hold drink or diet in your house, please +Heaven,' says the second; 'here's two gold pieces for the cup, lad.'</p> + +<p>'Why then, see this now—if I was forced to fill it to the rim with +gold before I could call it mine, you shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> never hold that cup +between your fingers. Here, boy, do you mind me, give me that, once +for all, and here's ten gold pieces for it, and say no more.'</p> + +<p>'Ten gold pieces for a china cup!' said a great lord of the court, who +just rode up at that minute, 'it must surely be a valuable article. +Here, boy, here are twenty pieces for it, and give it to my servant.'</p> + +<p>'Give it to mine,' cried another lord of the party, 'and here's my +purse, where you will find ten more. And if any man offers another +fraction for it to outbid that, I'll spit him on my sword like a +snipe.'</p> + +<p>'I outbid him,' said a fair young lady in a veil, by his side, +flinging twenty golden pieces more on the ground.</p> + +<p>There was no voice to outbid the lady, and young Owney, kneeling, gave +the cup into her hands.</p> + +<p>'Fifty gold pieces for a china cup,' said Owney to himself, as he +plodded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> on home, 'that was not worth two! Ah! mother, you knew that +vanity had an open hand.'</p> + +<p>But as he drew near home he determined to hide his money somewhere, +knowing, as he well did, that his cousin would not leave him a single +cross to bless himself with. So he dug a little pit, and buried all +but two pieces, which he brought to the house. His cousin, knowing the +business on which he had gone, laughed heartily when he saw him enter, +and asked him what luck he had got with his punch-bowl.</p> + +<p>'Not so bad, neither,' says Owney. 'Two pieces of gold is not a bad +price for an article of old china.'</p> + +<p>'Two gold pieces, Owney, honey! Erra, let us see 'em, maybe you +would?' He took the cash from Owney's hand, and after opening his eyes +in great astonishment at the sight of so much money, he put them into +his pocket.</p> + +<p>'Well, Owney, I'll keep them safe for you, in my pocket within. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +tell us, maybe you would, how come you to get such a <i>mort</i> o' money +for an old cup o' painted chaney, that wasn't worth, maybe, a fi'penny +bit?'</p> + +<p>'To get into the heart o' the fair, then, free and easy, and to look +about me, and to cry old china, and the first man that <i>come</i> up, he +to ask me, what is it I'd be asking for the cup, and I to say out +bold: "A hundred pieces of gold," and he to laugh hearty, and we to +huxter together till he beat me down to two, and there's the whole way +of it all.'</p> + +<p>Owney-na-peak made as if he took no note of this, but next morning +early he took an old china saucer himself had in his cupboard, and off +he set, without saying a word to anybody, to the fair. You may easily +imagine that it created no small surprise in the place when they heard +a great big fellow with a china saucer in his hand crying out: 'A raal +<i>chaney</i> saucer going for a hundred pieces of goold! raal +chaney—who'll be buying?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Erra, what's that you're saying, you great gomeril?' says a man, +coming up to him, and looking first at the saucer and then in his +face. 'Is it thinking anybody would go make a <i>muthaun</i> of himself to +give the like for that saucer?' But Owney-na-peak had no answer to +make, only to cry out: 'Raal chaney! one hundred pieces of goold!'</p> + +<p>A crowd soon collected about him, and finding he would give no account +of himself, they all fell upon him, beat him within an inch of his +life, and after having satisfied themselves upon him, they went their +way laughing and shouting. Towards sunset he got up, and crawled home +as well as he could, without cup or money. As soon as Owney saw him, +he helped him into the forge, looking very mournful, although, if the +truth must be told, it was to revenge himself for former good deeds of +his cousin that he set him about this foolish business.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Come here, Owney, eroo,' said his cousin, after he had fastened the +forge door and heated two irons in the fire. 'You child of mischief!' +said he, when he had caught him, 'you shall never see the fruits of +your roguery again, for I will put out your eyes.' And so saying he +snatched one of the red-hot irons from the fire.</p> + +<p>It was all in vain for poor Owney to throw himself on his knees, and +ask mercy, and beg and implore forgiveness; he was weak, and +Owney-na-peak was strong; he held him fast, and burned out both his +eyes. Then taking him, while he was yet fainting from the pain, upon +his back, he carried him off to the bleak hill of Knockpatrick,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> a +great distance, and there laid him under a tombstone, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>went his +ways. In a little time after, Owney came to himself.</p> + +<p>'O sweet light of day! what is to become of me now?' thought the poor +lad, as he lay on his back under the tomb. 'Is this to be the fruit of +that unhappy present? Must I be dark for ever and ever? and am I never +more to look upon that sweet countenance, that even in my blindness is +not entirely shut out from me?' He would have said a great deal more +in this way, and perhaps more pathetic still, but just then he heard a +great mewing, as if all the cats in the world were coming up the hill +together in one faction. He gathered himself up, and drew back under +the stone, and remained quite still, expecting what would come next. +In a very short time he heard all the cats purring and mewing about +the yard, whisking over the tombstones, and playing all sorts of +pranks among the graves. He felt the tails of one or two brush his +nose; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> well for him it was that they did not discover him there, +as he afterwards found. At last—</p> + +<p>'Silence!' said one of the cats, and they were all as mute as so many +mice in an instant. 'Now, all you cats of this great county, small and +large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, mottled, and white, attend to +what I'm going to tell you in the name of your king and the master of +all the cats. The sun is down, and the moon is up, and the night is +silent, and no mortal hears us, and I may tell you a secret. You know +the king of Munster's daughter?'</p> + +<p>'O yes, to be sure, and why wouldn't we? Go on with your story,' said +all the cats together.</p> + +<p>'I have heard of her for one,' said a little dirty-faced black cat, +speaking after they had all done, 'for I'm the cat that sits upon the +hob of Owney and Owney-na-peak, the white-smiths, and I know many's +the time young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> Owney does be talking of her, when he sits by the fire +alone, rubbing me down and planning how he can get into her father's +court.'</p> + +<p>'Whist, you natural!' says the cat that was making the speech, 'what +do you think we care for your Owney, or Owney-na-peak?'</p> + +<p>'Murther, murther!' thinks Owney to himself, 'did anybody ever hear +the aiqual of this?'</p> + +<p>'Well, gentlemen,' says the cat again, 'what I have to say is this. +The king was last week struck with blindness, and you all know well, +how and by what means any blindness may be cured. You know there is no +disorder that can ail mortal frame, that may not be removed by praying +a round at the well of Barrygowen<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>yonder, and the king's disorder +is such, that no other cure whatever can be had for it. Now, beware, +don't let the secret pass one o' yer lips, for there's a +great-grandson of Simon Magus, that is coming down to try his skill, +and he it is that must use the water and marry the princess, who is to +be given to any one so fortunate as to heal her father's eyes; and on +that day, gentlemen, we are all promised a feast of the fattest mice +that ever walked the ground.' This speech was wonderfully applauded by +all the cats, and presently after, the whole crew scampered off, +jumping, and mewing, and purring, down the hill.</p> + +<p>Owney, being sensible that they were all gone, came from his +hiding-place, and knowing the road to Barrygowen well, he set off, and +groped his way out, and shortly knew, by the rolling of the waves,<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> +coming in from the point of Foynes, that he was near the place. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>He +got to the well, and making a round like a good Christian, rubbed his +eyes with the well-water, and looking up, saw day dawning in the east. +Giving thanks, he jumped up on his feet, and you may say that +Owney-na-peak was much astonished on opening the door of the forge to +find him there, his eyes as well or better than ever, and his face as +merry as a dance.</p> + +<p>'Well, cousin,' said Owney, smiling, 'you have done me the greatest +service that one man can do another; you put me in the way of getting +two pieces of gold,' said he, showing two he had taken from his +hiding-place. 'If you could only bear the pain of suffering me just to +put out your eyes, and lay you in the same place as you laid me, who +knows what luck you'd have?'</p> + +<p>'No, there's no occasion for putting out eyes at all, but could not +you lay me, just as I am, to-night, in that place, and let me try my +own fortune, if it be a thing you tell thruth; and what else<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> could +put the eyes in your head, after I burning them out with the irons?'</p> + +<p>'You'll know all that in time,' says Owney, stopping him in his +speech, for just at that minute, casting his eye towards the hob, he +saw the cat sitting upon it, and looking very hard at him. So he made +a sign to Owney-na-peak to be silent, or talk of something else; at +which the cat turned away her eyes, and began washing her face, quite +simple, with her two paws, looking now and then sideways into Owney's +face, just like a Christian. By and by, when she had walked out of the +forge, he shut the door after her, and finished what he was going to +say, which made Owney-na-peak still more anxious than before to be +placed under the tombstone. Owney agreed to it very readily, and just +as they were done speaking, cast a glance towards the forge window, +where he saw the imp of a cat, just with her nose and one eye peeping +in through a broken pane. He said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> nothing, however, but prepared to +carry his cousin to the place; where, towards nightfall, he laid him +as he had been laid himself, snug under the tombstone, and went his +way down the hill, resting in Shanagolden that night, to see what +would come of it in the morning.</p> + +<p>Owney-na-peak had not been more than two or three hours or so lying +down, when he heard the very same noises coming up the hill, that had +puzzled Owney the night before. Seeing the cats enter the churchyard, +he began to grow very uneasy, and strove to hide himself as well as he +could, which was tolerably well too, all being covered by the +tombstone excepting part of the nose, which was so long that he could +not get it to fit by any means. You may say to yourself, that he was +not a little surprised, when he saw the cats all assemble like a +congregation going to hear mass, some sitting, some walking about, and +asking one another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> after the kittens and the like, and more of them +stretching themselves upon the tombstones, and waiting the speech of +their commander.</p> + +<p>Silence was proclaimed at length, and he spoke: 'Now all you cats of +this great county, small and large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, +mottled, or white, attend—'</p> + +<p>'Stay! stay!' said a little cat with a dirty face, that just then came +running into the yard. 'Be silent, for there are mortal ears listening +to what you say. I have run hard and fast to say that your words were +overheard last night. I am the cat that sits upon the hob of Owney and +Owney-na-peak, and I saw a bottle of the water of Barrygowen hanging +up over the chimbley this morning in their house.'</p> + +<p>In an instant all the cats began screaming, and mewing, and flying, as +if they were mad, about the yard, searching every corner, and peeping +under every tombstone. Poor Owney<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>na-peak endeavoured as well as he +could to hide himself from them, and began to thump his breast and +cross himself, but it was all in vain, for one of the cats saw the +long nose peeping from under the stone, and in a minute they dragged +him, roaring and bawling, into the very middle of the churchyard, +where they flew upon him all together, and made <i>smithereens</i> of him, +from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.</p> + +<p>The next morning very early, young Owney came to the churchyard, to +see what had become of his cousin. He called over and over again upon +his name, but there was no answer given. At last, entering the place +of tombs, he found his limbs scattered over the earth.</p> + +<p>'So that is the way with you, is it?' said he, clasping his hands, and +looking down on the bloody fragments; 'why then, though you were no +great things in the way of kindness to me when your bones were +together, that isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> the reason why I'd be glad to see them torn +asunder this morning early.' So gathering up all the pieces that he +could find, he put them into a bag he had with him, and away with him +to the well of Barrygowen, where he lost no time in making a round, +and throwing them in, all in a heap. In an instant, he saw +Owney-na-peak as well as ever, scrambling out of the well, and helping +him to get up, he asked him how he felt himself.</p> + +<p>'Oh! is it how I'd feel myself you'd want to know?' said the other; +'easy and I'll tell you. Take that for a specimen!' giving him at the +same time a blow on the head, which you may say wasn't long in laying +Owney sprawling on the ground. Then without giving him a minute's time +to recover, he thrust him into the very bag from which he had been +just shaken himself, resolving within himself to drown him in the +Shannon at once, and put an end to him for ever.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p>Growing weary by the way, he stopped at a shebeen house <i>over-right</i> +Robertstown Castle, to refresh himself with a <i>morning</i>, before he'd +go any farther. Poor Owney did not know what to do when he came to +himself, if it might be rightly called coming to himself, and the +great bag tied up about him. His wicked cousin shot him down behind +the door in the kitchen, and telling him he'd have his life surely if +he stirred, he walked in to take something that's good in the little +parlour.</p> + +<p>Owney could not for the life of him avoid cutting a hole in the bag, +to have a peep about the kitchen, and see whether he had no means of +escape. He could see only one person, a simple-looking man, who was +counting his beads in the chimney-corner, and now and then striking +his breast, and looking up as if he was praying greatly.</p> + +<p>'Lord,' says he, 'only give me death, death, and a favourable +judg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>ment! I haven't anybody now to look after, nor anybody to look +after me. What's a few tinpennies to save a man from want? Only a +quiet grave is all I ask.'</p> + +<p>'Murther, murther!' says Owney to himself, 'here's a man wants death +and can't have it, and here am I going to have it, and, in troth, I +don't want it at all, see.' So, after thinking a little what he had +best do, he began to sing out very merrily, but lowering his voice, +for fear he should be heard in the next room:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'To him that tied me here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be thanks and praises given!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll bless him night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For packing me to heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the roads you'll name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He surely will not lag,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who takes his way to heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By travelling in a bag!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'To heaven, <i>ershishin</i>?'<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> said the man in the chimney-corner, +opening <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>his mouth and his eyes; 'why then, you'd be doing a Christian +turn, if you'd take a neighbour with you, that's tired of this bad and +villainous world.'</p> + +<p>'You're a fool, you're a fool!' said Owney.</p> + +<p>'I know I am, at least so the neighbours always tell me—but what +hurt? Maybe I have a Christian soul as well as another; and fool or no +fool, in a bag or out of a bag, I'd be glad and happy to go the same +road it is you are talking of.'</p> + +<p>After seeming to make a great favour of it, in order to allure him the +more to the bargain, Owney agreed to put him into the bag instead of +himself; and cautioning him against saying a word, he was just going +to tie him, when he was touched with a little remorse for going to +have the innocent man's life taken: and seeing a slip of a pig that +was killed the day before, in a corner, hanging up, the thought struck +him that it would do just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> well to put it in the bag in their +place. No sooner said than done, to the great surprise of the natural, +he popped the pig into the bag and tied it up.</p> + +<p>'Now,' says he, 'my good friend, go home, say nothing, but bless the +name in heaven for saving your life; and you were as near losing it +this morning as ever man was that didn't know.'</p> + +<p>They left the house together. Presently out comes Owney-na-peak, very +hearty; and being so, he was not able to perceive the difference in +the contents of the bag, but hoisting it upon his back, he sallied out +of the house. Before he had gone far, he came to the rock of Foynes, +from the top of which he flung his burden into the salt waters.</p> + +<p>Away he went home, and knocked at the door of the forge, which was +opened to him by Owney. You may fancy him to yourself crossing and +blessing himself over and over again, when he saw, as he thought, the +ghost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> standing before him. But Owney looked very merry, and told him +not to be afraid. 'You did many is the good turn in your life,' says +he, 'but the equal of this never.' So he up and told him that he found +the finest place in the world at the bottom of the waters, and plenty +of money. 'See these four pieces for a specimen,' showing him some he +had taken from his own hiding hole: 'what do you think of that for a +story?'</p> + +<p>'Why then that it's a droll one, no less; sorrow bit av I wouldn't +have a mind to try my luck in the same way; how did you come home here +before me that took the straight road, and didn't stop for so much as +my <i>gusthah</i><a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> since I left Knockpatrick?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, there's a short cut under the waters,' said Owney. 'Mind and only +be civil while you're in Thiernaoge,<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> and you'll make a sight o' +money.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>Well became Owney, he thrust his cousin into the bag, tied it about +him, and putting it into a car that was returning after leaving a load +of oats at a corn-store in the city, it was not long before he was at +Foynes again. Here he dismounted, and going to the rock, he was, I am +afraid, half inclined to start his burden into the wide water, when he +saw a small skiff making towards the point. He hailed her, and learned +that she was about to board a great vessel from foreign parts, that +was sailing out of the river. So he went with his bag on board, and +making his bargain with the captain of the ship, he left Owney-na-peak +along with the crew, and never was troubled with him after, from that +day to this.</p> + +<p>As he was passing by Barrygowen well, he filled a bottle with the +water; and going home, he bought a fine suit of clothes with the rest +of the money he had buried, and away he set off in the morning to the +city of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> Lumneach. He walked through the town, admiring everything he +saw, until he came before the palace of the king. Over the gates of +this he saw a number of spikes, with a head of a man stuck upon each, +grinning in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>Not at all daunted, he knocked very boldly at the gate, which was +opened by one of the guards of the palace. 'Well! who are you, +friend?'</p> + +<p>'I am a great doctor that's come from foreign parts to cure the king's +eyesight. Lead me to his presence this minute.'</p> + +<p>'Fair and softly,' said the soldier. 'Do you see all those heads that +are stuck up there? Yours is very likely to be keeping company by +them, if you are so foolish as to come inside these walls. They are +the heads of all the doctors in the land who came before you; and +that's what makes the town so fine and healthy this time past, praised +be Heaven for the same!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Don't be talking, you great gomeril,' says Owney; 'only bring me to +the king at once.'</p> + +<p>He was brought before the king. After being warned of his fate if he +should fail to do all that he undertook, the place was made clear of +all but a few guards, and Owney was informed once more, that if he +should restore the king's eyes, he should wed with the princess, and +have the crown after her father's death. This put him in great +spirits, and after making a round upon his bare knees about the +bottle, he took a little of the water, and rubbed it into the king's +eyes. In a minute he jumped up from his throne and looked about him as +well as ever. He ordered Owney to be dressed out like a king's son, +and sent word to his daughter that she should receive him that instant +for her husband.</p> + +<p>You may say to yourself that the princess, glad as she was of her +father's recovery, did not like this message.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> Small blame to her, +when it is considered that she never set her eyes upon the man +himself. However, her mind was changed wonderfully when he was brought +before her, covered with gold and diamonds, and all sorts of grand +things. Wishing, however, to know whether he had as good a wit as he +had a person, she told him that he should give her, on the next +morning, an answer to two questions, otherwise she would not hold him +worthy of her hand. Owney bowed, and she put the questions as follows:</p> + +<p>'What is that which is the sweetest thing in the world?'</p> + +<p>'What are the three most beautiful objects in the creation?'</p> + +<p>These were puzzling questions; but Owney having a small share of +brains of his own, was not long in forming an opinion upon the matter. +He was very impatient for the morning; but it came just as slow and +regular as if he were not in the world. In a short<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> time he was +summoned to the courtyard, where all the nobles of the land assembled, +with flags waving, and trumpets sounding, and all manner of glorious +doings going on. The princess was placed on a throne of gold near her +father, and there was a beautiful carpet spread for Owney to stand +upon while he answered her questions. After the trumpets were +silenced, she put the first, with a clear sweet voice, and he replied:</p> + +<p>'It's salt!' says he, very stout, out.</p> + +<p>There was a great applause at the answer; and the princess owned, +smiling, that he had judged right.</p> + +<p>'But now,' said she, 'for the second. What are the three most +beautiful things in the creation?'</p> + +<p>'Why,' answered the young man, 'here they are. A ship in full sail—a +field of wheat in ear—and——'</p> + +<p>What the third most beautiful thing was, all the people didn't hear; +but there was a great blushing and laughing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> among the ladies, and the +princess smiled and nodded at him, quite pleased with his wit. Indeed, +many said that the judges of the land themselves could not have +answered better, had they been in Owney's place; nor could there be +anywhere found a more likely or well-spoken young man. He was brought +first to the king, who took him in his arms, and presented him to the +princess. She could not help acknowledging to herself that his +understanding was quite worthy of his handsome person. Orders being +immediately given for the marriage to proceed, they were made one with +all speed; and it is said, that before another year came round, the +fair princess was one of the most beautiful objects in the creation.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES. +</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The present Limerick.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> A <i>hog</i>, 1s. 1d.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> White-haired boy, a curious Irish phrase for the +favourite child.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> A hill in the west of the County of Limerick, on the +summit of which are the ruins of an old church, with a burying-ground +still in use. The situation is exceedingly singular and bleak.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The practice of praying rounds, with the view of healing +diseases, at Barrygowen well, in the County of Limerick, is still +continued, notwithstanding the exertions of the neighbouring Catholic +priesthood, which have diminished, but not abolished it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Of the Shannon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Does he say?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Literally—<i>walk in</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> The abode of the fairies.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="KINGS_AND_WARRIORS" id="KINGS_AND_WARRIORS"></a>KINGS AND WARRIORS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_008.jpg" width="600" height="228" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="THE_KNIGHTING_OF_CUCULAIN" id="THE_KNIGHTING_OF_CUCULAIN"></a>THE KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Standish O'Grady</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>ne night in the month of the fires of Bel, Cathvah, the Druid and +star-gazer, was observing the heavens through his astrological +instruments. Beside him was Cuculain, just then completing his +sixteenth year. Since the exile of Fergus MacRoy, Cuculain had +attached himself most to the Ard-Druid, and delighted to be along with +him in his studies and observations. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>Suddenly the old man put aside +his instruments and meditated a long time in silence.</p> + +<p>'Setanta,' said he at length, 'art thou yet sixteen years of age?'</p> + +<p>'No, father,' replied the boy.</p> + +<p>'It will then be difficult to persuade the king to knight thee and +enrol thee among his knights,' said Cathvah. 'Yet this must be done +to-morrow, for it has been revealed to me that he whom Concobar +MacNessa shall present with arms to-morrow, will be renowned to the +most distant ages, and to the ends of the earth. Thou shalt be +presented with arms to-morrow, and after that thou mayest retire for a +season among thy comrades, nor go out among the warriors until thy +strength is mature.'</p> + +<p>The next day Cathvah procured the king's consent to the knighting of +Cuculain. Now on the same morning, one of his grooms came to Concobar +MacNessa and said: 'O chief of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> Red Branch, thou knowest how no +horse has eaten barley, or ever occupied the stall where stood the +divine steed which, with another of mortal breed, in the days of +Kimbay MacFiontann, was accustomed to bear forth to the battle the +great war-queen, Macha Monga-Rue; but ever since that stall has been +empty, and no mortal steed hath profaned the stall in which the +deathless Lia Macha was wont to stand. Yet, O Concobar, as I passed +into the great stables on the east side of the courtyard, wherein are +the steeds of thy own ambus, and in which is that spot since held +sacred, I saw in the empty stall a mare, gray almost to whiteness, and +of a size and beauty such as I have never seen, who turned to look +upon me as I entered the stable, having very gentle eyes, but such as +terrified me, so that I let fall the vessel in which I was bearing +curds for the steed of Konaul Clareena; and she approached me, and +laid her head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> upon my shoulder, making a strange noise.'</p> + +<p>Now as the groom was thus speaking, Cowshra Mend Macha, a younger son +of Concobar, came before the king, and said: 'Thou knowest, O my +father, that house in which is preserved the chariot of Kimbay +MacFiontann, wherein he and she, whose name I bear, the great queen +that protects our nation, rode forth to the wars in the ancient days, +and how it has been preserved ever since, and that it is under my care +to keep bright and clean. Now this day at sunrise I approached the +house, as is my custom, and approaching, I heard dire voices, +clamorous and terrible, that came from within, and noises like the +noise of battle, and shouts as of warriors in the agony of the +conflict, that raise their voices with short intense cries as they ply +their weapons, avoiding or inflicting death. Then I went back +terrified, but there met me Minrowar,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> son of Gerkin, for he came but +last night from Moharne, in the east, and he went to look at his own +steeds; but together we opened the gate of the chariot-house, and the +bronze of the chariot burned like glowing fire, and the voices cried +out in acclaim, when we stood in the doorway, and the light streamed +into the dark chamber. Doubtless, a great warrior will appear amongst +the Red Branch, for men say that not for a hundred years have these +voices been heard, and I know not for whom Macha sends these portents, +if it be not for the son of Sualtam, though he is not yet of an age to +bear arms.'</p> + +<p>Thus was Concobar prepared for the knighting of Cuculain.</p> + +<p>Then in the presence of his court, and his warriors, and the youths +who were the comrades and companions of Cuculain, Concobar presented +the young hero with his weapons of war, after he had taken the vows of +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> Red Branch, and having also bound himself by certain gæsa.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> +But Cuculain looked narrowly upon the weapons, and he struck the +spears together and clashed the sword upon the shield, and he brake +the spears in pieces, and the sword, and made chasms in the shield.</p> + +<p>'These are not good weapons, O my King,' said the boy.</p> + +<p>Then the king presented him with others that were larger and stronger, +and these too the boy brake into little pieces.</p> + +<p>'These are still worse, O son of Nessa,' said the boy, 'and it is not +seemly, O chief of the Red Branch, that on the day that I am to +receive my arms I should be made a laughing-stock before the Clanna +Rury, being yet but a boy.'</p> + +<p>But Concobar MacNessa exulted exceedingly when he beheld the amaz<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>ing +strength and the waywardness of the boy, and beneath delicate brows +his eyes glittered like gleaming swords as he glanced rapidly round on +the crowd of martial men that surrounded him; but amongst them all he +seemed himself a bright torch of valour and war, more pure and clear +than polished steel. But he beckoned to one of his knights, who +hastened away and returned, bringing Concobar's own shield and spears +and the sword out of the Tayta Brac, where they were kept, an +equipment in reserve. And Cuculain shook them and bent them, and +clashed them together, but they held firm.</p> + +<p>'These are good arms, O son of Nessa,' said Cuculain.</p> + +<p>Then there were led forward a pair of noble steeds and a war-car, and +the king conferred them on Cuculain. Then Cuculain sprang into the +chariot, and standing with legs apart, he stamped from side to side, +and shook and shook,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> and jolted the car until the axle brake and the +car itself was broken in pieces.</p> + +<p>'This is not a good chariot, O my King,' said the boy.</p> + +<p>Then there were led forward three chariots, and all these he brake in +succession.</p> + +<p>'These are not good chariots, O chief of the Red Branch,' said +Cuculain. 'No brave warrior would enter the battle or fight from such +rotten foothold.'</p> + +<p>Then the king called to his son Cowshra Mead Macha and bade him take +Læg, and harness to the war-chariot, of which he had the care, the +wondrous gray steed, and that one which had been given him by Kelkar, +the son of Uther, and to give Læg a charioteering equipment, to be +charioteers of Cuculain. For now it was apparent to all the nobles and +to the king that a lion of war had appeared amongst them, and that it +was for him Macha had sent these omens.</p> + +<p>Then Cuculain's heart leaped in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> breast when he heard the thunder +of the great war-car and the mad whinnying of the horses that smelt +the battle afar. Soon he beheld them with his eyes, and the charioteer +with the golden fillet of his office, erect in the car, struggling to +subdue their fury. A gray, long-maned steed, whale-bellied, +broad-chested, behind one yoke; a black, ugly-maned steed behind the +other.</p> + +<p>Like a hawk swooping along the face of a cliff when the wind is high, +or like the rush of the March wind over the plain, or like the +fleetness of the stag roused from his lair by the hounds and covering +his first field, was the rush of those steeds when they had broken +through the restraint of the charioteer, as though they galloped over +fiery flags, so that the earth shook and trembled with the velocity of +their motion, and all the time the great car brayed and shrieked as +the wheels of solid and glittering bronze went round,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> for there were +demons that had their abode in that car.</p> + +<p>The charioteer restrained the steeds before the assembly, but +nay-the-less a deep pur, like the pur of a tiger, proceeded from the +axle. Then the whole assembly lifted up their voices and shouted for +Cuculain, and he himself, Cuculain the son of Sualtam, sprang into his +chariot, all armed, with a cry as of a warrior springing into his +chariot in the battle, and he stood erect and brandished his spears, +and the war-sprites of the Gæil shouted along with them, to the +Bocanahs and Bananahs and the Genitii Glindi, the wild people of the +glens, and the demons of the air, roared around him, when first the +great warrior of the Gæil, his battle-arms in his hands, stood +equipped for war in his chariot before all the warriors of his tribe, +the kings of the Clanna Rury, and the people of Emain Macha.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES. +</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Cuculain was the great hero of legendary Ireland.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Curious vows taken by the ancient warriors. Hardly +anything definite is known of them.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_015.jpg" width="600" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="THE_LITTLE_WEAVER_OF_DULEEK_GATE" id="THE_LITTLE_WEAVER_OF_DULEEK_GATE"></a>THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Samuel Lover</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_y.jpg" alt="Y" width="75" height="79" /></div> +<p>ou see, there was a waiver lived, wanst upon a time, in Duleek here, +hard by the gate, and a very honest, industherous man he was, by all +accounts. He had a wife, and av coorse they had childhre, and small +blame to them, and plenty of them, so that the poor little waiver was +obleeged to work his fingers to the bone a'most to get them the bit +and the sup; but he didn't begridge that, for he was an industherous +craythur, as I said before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>, and it was up airly and down late with +him, and the loom never standin' still. Well, it was one mornin' that +his wife called to him, and he sitting very busy throwin' the shuttle; +and says she, 'Come here,' says she, 'jewel, and ate your brekquest, +now that it's ready.' But he never minded her, but wint an workin'. So +in a minit or two more, says she, callin' out to him agin, 'Arrah, +lave off slavin' yourself, my darlin', and ate your bit o' brekquest +while it is hot.'</p> + +<p>'Lave me alone,' says he, and he dhruv the shuttle fasther nor before.</p> + +<p>Well, in a little time more, she goes over to him where he sot, and +says she, coaxin' him like, 'Thady, dear,' says she, 'the stirabout +will be stone cowld if you don't give over that weary work and come +and ate it at wanst.'</p> + +<p>'I'm busy with a patthern here that is brakin' my heart,' says the +waiver; 'and antil I complate it and masther it intirely I won't +quit.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, think o' the iligant stirabout, that 'ill be spylte intirely.'</p> + +<p>'To the divil with the stirabout,' says he.</p> + +<p>'God forgive you,' says she, 'for cursin' your good brekquest.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, and you too,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Throth, you're as cross as two sticks this blessed morning, Thady,' +says the poor wife; 'and it's a heavy handful I have of you when you +are cruked in your temper; but stay there if you like, and let your +stirabout grow cowld, and not a one o' me 'ill ax you agin;' and with +that off she wint, and the waiver, sure enough, was mighty crabbed, +and the more the wife spoke to him the worse he got, which, you know, +is only nath'ral. Well, he left the loom at last, and wint over to the +stirabout, and what would you think but whin he looked at it, it was +as black as a crow; for, you see, it was in the hoighth o' summer, and +the flies lit upon it to that degree that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> the stirabout was fairly +covered with them.</p> + +<p>'Why, thin, bad luck to your impidence,' says the waiver; 'would no +place sarve you but that? and is it spyling my brekquest yiz are, you +dirty bastes?' And with that, bein' altogether cruked-tempered at the +time, he lifted his hand, and he made one great slam at the dish o' +stirabout, and killed no less than three score and tin flies at the +one blow. It was three score and tin exactly, for he counted the +carcasses one by one, and laid them out on a clane plate, for to view +them.</p> + +<p>Well, he felt a powerful sperit risin' in him, when he seen the +slaughther he done, at one blow; and with that he got as consaited as +the very dickens, and not a sthroke more work he'd do that day, but +out he wint, and was fractious and impident to every one he met, and +was squarin' up into their faces and sayin', 'Look at that fist!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +that's the fist that killed three score and tin at one blow—Whoo!'</p> + +<p>With that all the neighbours thought he was crack'd, and faith, the +poor wife herself thought the same when he kem home in the evenin', +afther spendin' every rap he had in dhrink, and swaggerin' about the +place, and lookin' at his hand every minit.</p> + +<p>'Indeed, an' your hand is very dirty, sure enough, Thady jewel,' says +the poor wife; and thrue for her, for he rowled into a ditch comin' +home. 'You had betther wash it, darlin'.'</p> + +<p>'How dar' you say dirty to the greatest hand in Ireland?' says he, +going to bate her.</p> + +<p>'Well, it's nat dirty,' says she.</p> + +<p>'It is throwin' away my time I have been all my life,' says he; +'livin' with you at all, and stuck at a loom, nothin' but a poor +waiver, when it is Saint George or the Dhraggin I ought to be, which +is two of the siven champions o' Christendom.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Well, suppose they christened him twice as much,' says the wife; +'sure, what's that to uz?'</p> + +<p>'Don't put in your prate,' says he; 'you ignorant sthrap,' says he. +'You're vulgar, woman—you're vulgar—mighty vulgar; but I'll have +nothin' more to say to any dirty snakin' thrade again—divil a more +waivin' I'll do.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Thady dear, and what'll the children do then?'</p> + +<p>'Let them go play marvels,' says he.</p> + +<p>'That would be but poor feedin' for them, Thady.'</p> + +<p>'They shan't want for feedin',' says he; 'for it's a rich man I'll be +soon, and a great man too.'</p> + +<p>'Usha, but I'm glad to hear it, darlin',—though I dunna how it's to +be, but I think you had betther go to bed, Thady.'</p> + +<p>'Don't talk to me of any bed but the bed o' glory, woman,' says he, +lookin' mortial grand.</p> + +<p>'Oh! God send we'll all be in glory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> yet,' says the wife, crassin' +herself; 'but go to sleep, Thady, for this present.'</p> + +<p>'I'll sleep with the brave yit,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Indeed, an' a brave sleep will do you a power o' good, my +darlin','says she.</p> + +<p>'And it's I that will be the knight!' says he.</p> + +<p>'All night, if you plaze, Thady,' says she.</p> + +<p>'None o' your coaxin','says he. 'I'm detarmined on it, and I'll set +off immediantly, and be a knight arriant.'</p> + +<p>'A what?' says she.</p> + +<p>'A knight arriant, woman.'</p> + +<p>'Lord, be good to me, what's that?' says she.</p> + +<p>'A knight arriant is a rale gintleman,' says he; 'going round the +world for sport, with a swoord by his side, takin' whatever he plazes +for himself; and that's a knight arriant,' says he.</p> + +<p>Well, sure enough he wint about among his neighbours the next day, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> he got an owld kittle from one, and a saucepan from another; and +he took them to the tailor, and he sewed him up a shuit o' tin clothes +like any knight arriant and he borrowed a pot lid, and <i>that</i> he was +very partic'lar about, bekase it was his shield and he wint to a frind +o' his, a painther and glazier, and made him paint an his shield in +big letthers—</p> + +<p class="center"> +'I'M THE MAN OF ALL MIN,<br /> +THAT KILL'D THREE SCORE AND TIN<br /> +AT A BLOW.'<br /> +</p> + +<p>'When the people sees <i>that</i>,' says the waiver to himself, 'the sorra +one will dar' for to come near me.'</p> + +<p>And with that he towld the wife to scour out the small iron pot for +him, 'For,' says he, 'it will make an iligant helmet'; and when it was +done, he put it an his head, and his wife said, 'Oh, murther, Thady +jewel, is it puttin' a great heavy iron pot an your head you are, by +way iv a hat?'</p> + +<p>'Sartinly,' says he; 'for a knight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> arraint should always have <i>a +woight an his brain</i>.'</p> + +<p>'But, Thady dear,' says the wife, 'there's a hole in it, and it can't +keep out the weather.'</p> + +<p>'It will be the cooler,' says he, puttin' it an him; 'besides, if I +don't like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp o' sthraw, or the +like o' that.'</p> + +<p>'The three legs of it looks mighty quare, stickin' up,' says she.</p> + +<p>'Every helmet has a spike stickin' out o' the top of it,' says the +waiver; 'and if mine has three, it's only the grandher it is.'</p> + +<p>'Well,' says the wife, getting bitther at last, 'all I can say is, it +isn't the first sheep's head was dhress'd in it.'</p> + +<p>'<i>Your sarvint, ma'am</i>,' says he; and off he set.</p> + +<p>Well, he was in want of a horse, and so he wint to a field hard by, +where the miller's horse was grazin', that used to carry the ground +corn round the counthry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>'This is the idintical horse for me,' says the waiver; 'he is used to +carryin' flour and male, and what am I but the <i>flower</i> o' shovelry in +a coat o' <i>mail</i>; so that the horse won't be put out iv his way in the +laste.'</p> + +<p>But as he was ridin' him out o'the field, who should see him but the +miller.</p> + +<p>'Is it stalin' my horse you are, honest man?' says the miller.</p> + +<p>'No,' says the waiver; 'I'm only goin' to <i>ax</i>ercise him,' says he, +'in the cool o' the evenin'; it will be good for his health.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you kindly,' says the miller; 'but lave him where he is, and +you'll obleege me.'</p> + +<p>'I can't afford it,' says the waiver, runnin' the horse at the ditch.</p> + +<p>'Bad luck to your impidence,' says the miller; 'you've as much tin +about you as a thravellin' tinker, but you've more brass. Come back +here, you vagabone,' says he.</p> + +<p>But he was too late; away galloped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> the waiver, and took the road to +Dublin, for he thought the best thing he could do was to go to the +King o' Dublin (for Dublin was a grate place thin, and had a king iv +its own), and he thought, maybe, the King o' Dublin would give him +work. Well, he was four days goin' to Dublin, for the baste was not +the best and the roads worse, not all as one as now; but there was no +turnpikes then, glory be to God! When he got to Dublin, he wint +sthrait to the palace, and whin he got into the coortyard he let his +horse go and graze about the place, for the grass was growin' out +betune the stones; everything was flourishin' thin in Dublin, you see. +Well, the king was lookin' out of his dhrawin'-room windy, for +divarshin, whin the waiver kem in; but the waiver pretended not to see +him, and he wint over to a stone sate, undher the windy—for, you see, +there was stone sates all round about the place for the accommodation +o' the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> people—for the king was a dacent, obleeging man; well, as I +said, the waiver wint over and lay down an one o' the sates, just +undher the king's windy, and purtended to go asleep; but he took care +to turn out the front of his shield that had the letthers an it; well, +my dear, with that, the king calls out to one of the lords of his +coort that was standin' behind him, howldin' up the skirt of his coat, +accordin' to rayson, and says he: 'Look here,' says he, 'what do you +think of a vagabone like that comin' undher my very nose to go sleep? +It is thrue I'm a good king,' says he, 'and I 'commodate the people by +havin' sates for them to sit down and enjoy the raycreation and +contimplation of seein' me here, lookin' out a' my dhrawin'-room +windy, for divarshin; but that is no rayson they are to <i>make a hotel</i> +o' the place, and come and sleep here. Who is it at all?' says the +king.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Not a one o' me knows, plaze your majesty.'</p> + +<p>'I think he must be a furriner,' says the king; 'bekase his dhress is +outlandish.'</p> + +<p>'And doesn't know manners, more betoken,' says the lord.</p> + +<p>'I'll go down and <i>circumspect</i> him myself,' says the king; 'folly +me,' says he to the lord, wavin' his hand at the same time in the most +dignacious manner.</p> + +<p>Down he wint accordingly, followed by the lord; and whin he wint over +to where the waiver was lying, sure the first thing he seen was his +shield with the big letthers an it, and with that, says he to the +lord, 'Bedad,' says he, 'this is the very man I want.'</p> + +<p>'For what, plaze your majesty?' says the lord.</p> + +<p>'To kill that vagabone dragghin, to be sure,' says the king.</p> + +<p>'Sure, do you think he could kill him,' says the lord, 'when all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +stoutest knights in the land wasn't aiquil to it, but never kem back, +and was ate up alive by the cruel desaiver.'</p> + +<p>'Sure, don't you see there,' says the king, pointin' at the shield, +'that he killed three score and tin at one blow? and the man that done +<i>that</i>, I think, is a match for anything.'</p> + +<p>So, with that, he wint over to the waiver and shuck him by the +shouldher for to wake him, and the waiver rubbed his eyes as if just +wakened, and the king says to him, 'God save you,' said he.</p> + +<p>'God save you kindly,' says the waiver, <i>purtendin'</i> he was quite +onknowst who he was spakin' to.</p> + +<p>'Do you know who I am,' says the king, 'that you make so free, good +man?'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed,' says the waiver; 'you have the advantage o' me.'</p> + +<p>'To be sure I have,' says the king, <i>moighty high</i>; 'sure, ain't I the +King o' Dublin?' says he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>The waiver dhropped down an his two knees forninst the king, and says +he, 'I beg God's pardon and yours for the liberty I tuk; plaze your +holiness, I hope you'll excuse it.'</p> + +<p>'No offince,' says the king; 'get up, good man. And what brings you +here?' says he.</p> + +<p>'I'm in want o' work, plaze your riverence,' says the waiver.</p> + +<p>'Well, suppose I give you work?' says the king.</p> + +<p>'I'll be proud to sarve you, my lord,' says the waiver.</p> + +<p>'Very well,' says the king. 'You killed three score and tin at one +blow, I understan',' says the king.</p> + +<p>'Yis,' says the waiver; 'that was the last thrifle o' work I done, and +I'm afeard my hand 'll go out o' practice if I don't get some job to +do at wanst.'</p> + +<p>'You shall have a job immediantly,' says the king. 'It is not three +score and tin or any fine thing like that; it is only a blaguard +dhraggin that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> is disturbin' the counthry and ruinatin' my tinanthry +wid aitin' their powlthry, and I'm lost for want of eggs,' says the +king.</p> + +<p>'Throth, thin, plaze your worship,' says the waiver, 'you look as +yollow as if you swallowed twelve yolks this minit.'</p> + +<p>'Well, I want this dhraggin to be killed,' says the king. 'It will be +no throuble in life to you; and I am only sorry that it isn't betther +worth your while, for he isn't worth fearin' at all; only I must tell +you, that he lives in the County Galway, in the middle of a bog, and +he has an advantage in that.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I don't value it in the laste,' says the waiver; 'for the last +three score and tin I killed was in a <i>soft place</i>.'</p> + +<p>'When will you undhertake the job, then?' says the king.</p> + +<p>'Let me at him at wanst,' says the waiver.</p> + +<p>'That's what I like,' says the king;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> 'you're the very man for my +money,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Talkin' of money,' says the waiver; 'by the same token, I'll want a +thrifle o' change from you for my thravellin' charges.'</p> + +<p>'As much as you plaze,' says the king; and with the word, he brought +him into his closet, where there was an owld stockin' in an oak chest, +burstin' wid goolden guineas.</p> + +<p>'Take as many as you plaze,' says the king; and sure enough, my dear, +the little waiver stuffed his tin clothes as full as they could howld +with them.</p> + +<p>'Now, I'm ready for the road,' says the waiver.</p> + +<p>'Very well,' says the king; 'but you must have a fresh horse,' says +he.</p> + +<p>'With all my heart,' says the waiver, who thought he might as well +exchange the miller's owld garron for a betther.</p> + +<p>And maybe it's wondherin' you are that the waiver would think of goin' +to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> fight the dhraggin afther what he heerd about him, when he was +purtendin' to be asleep, but he had no sitch notion; all he intended +was,—to fob the goold, and ride back again to Duleek with his gains +and a good horse. But, you see, cute as the waiver was, the king was +cuter still; for these high quolity, you see, is great desaivers; and +so the horse the waiver was put an was larned on purpose; and sure, +the minit he was mounted, away powdhered the horse, and the divil a +toe he'd go but right down to Galway. Well, for four days he was goin' +evermore, until at last the waiver seen a crowd o' people runnin' as +if owld Nick was at their heels, and they shoutin' a thousand murdhers +and cryin', 'The dhraggin, the dhraggin!' and he couldn't stop the +horse nor make him turn back, but away he pelted right forninst the +terrible baste that was comin' up to him, and there was the most +<i>nefaarious</i> smell o' sulphur, savin' your presence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> enough to knock +you down; and, faith the waiver seen he had no time to lose, and so he +threw himself off the horse and made to a three that was growin' nigh +hand, and away he clambered up into it as nimble as a cat; and not a +minit had he to spare, for the dhraggin kem up in a powerful rage, and +he devoured the horse body and bones, in less than no time; and then +he began to sniffle and scent about for the waiver, and at last he +clapt his eye an him, where he was, up in the three, and says he, 'In +throth, you might as well come down out o' that,' says he; 'for I'll +have you as sure as eggs is mate.'</p> + +<p>'Divil a fut I'll go down,' says the waiver.</p> + +<p>'Sorra care, I care,' says the dhraggin; 'for you're as good as ready +money in my pocket this minit, for I'll lie undher this three,' says +he, 'and sooner or later you must fall to my share'; and sure enough +he sot down, and began to pick his teeth with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> tail, afther the +heavy brekquest he made that mornin' (for he ate a whole village, let +alone the horse), and he got dhrowsy at last, and fell asleep; but +before he wint to sleep, he wound himself all round about the three, +all as one as a lady windin' ribbon round her finger, so that the +waiver could not escape.</p> + +<p>Well, as soon as the waiver knew he was dead asleep, by the snorin' of +him—and every snore he let out of him was like a clap o' +thunder—that minit the waiver began to creep down the three, as +cautious as a fox; and he was very nigh hand the bottom, when, bad +cess to it, a thievin' branch he was dipindin' an bruk, and down he +fell right a-top o' the dhraggin; but if he did, good luck was an his +side, for where should he fall but with his two legs right acrass the +dhraggin's neck, and, my jew'l, he laid howlt o' the baste's ears, and +there he kept his grip, for the dhraggin wakened and en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>dayvoured for +to bite him; but, you see, by rayson the waiver was behind his ears, +he could not come at him, and, with that, he endayvoured for to shake +him off; but the divil a stir could he stir the waiver; and though he +shuk all the scales an his body, he could not turn the scale agin the +waiver.</p> + +<p>'By the hokey, this is too bad intirely,' says the dhraggin; 'but if +you won't let go,' says he, 'by the powers o' wildfire, I'll give you +a ride that 'ill astonish your siven small sinses, my boy'; and, with +that, away he flew like mad; and where do you think he did +fly?—bedad, he flew sthraight for Dublin, divil a less. But the +waiver bein' an his neck was a great disthress to him, and he would +rather have had him an <i>inside passenger</i>; but, anyway, he flew and he +flew till he kem <i>slap</i> up agin the palace o' the king; for, bein' +blind with the rage, he never seen it, and he knocked his brains +out—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> is, the small thrifle he had—and down he fell spacheless. +An' you see, good luck would have it, that the King o' Dublin was +lookin' out iv' his dhrawin'-room windy, for divarshin, that day also, +and whin he seen the waiver ridin' an the fiery dhraggin (for he was +blazin' like a tar-barrel), he called out to his coortyers to come and +see the show. 'By the powdhers o' war, here comes the knight arriant,' +says the king, 'ridin' the dhraggin that's all afire, and if he gets +<i>into the palace</i>, yiz must be ready wid the <i>fire ingines</i>,' says he, +'for to <i>put him out</i>.' But when they seen the dhraggin fall outside, +they all run downstairs and scampered into the palace-yard for to +circumspect the <i>curosity</i>; and by the time they got down, the waiver +had got off o' the dhraggin's neck, and runnin' up to the king, says +he, 'Plaze your holiness,' says he, 'I did not think myself worthy of +killin' this facetious baste, so I brought him to yourself for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> to do +him the honour of decripitation by your own royal five fingers. But I +tamed him first, before I allowed him the liberty for to <i>dar'</i> to +appear in your royal prisince, and you'll oblige me if you'll just +make your mark with your own hand upon the onruly baste's neck.' And +with that the king, sure enough, dhrew out his swoord and took the +head aff the <i>dirty</i> brute as <i>clane</i> as a new pin. Well, there was +great rejoicin' in the coort that the dhraggin was killed; and says +the king to the little waiver, says he, 'You are a knight arriant as +it is, and so it would be of no use for to knight you over agin; but I +will make you a lord,' says he.</p> + +<p>'O Lord!' says the waiver, thunder-struck like at his own good luck.</p> + +<p>'I will,' says the king; 'and as you are the first man I ever heer'd +tell of that rode a dhraggin, you shall be called Lord <i>Mount</i> +Dhraggin,' says he.</p> + +<p>'And where's my estates, plaze your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> holiness?' says the waiver, who +always had a sharp look-out afther the main chance.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I didn't forget that,' says the king; 'it is my royal pleasure to +provide well for you, and for that rayson I make you a present of all +the dhraggins in the world, and give you power over them from this +out,' says he.</p> + +<p>'Is that all?' says the waiver.</p> + +<p>'All!' says the king. 'Why, you ongrateful little vagabone, was the +like ever given to any man before?'</p> + +<p>'I b'lieve not, indeed,' says the waiver; 'many thanks to your +majesty.'</p> + +<p>'But that is not all I'll do for you,' says the king; 'I'll give you +my daughther too in marriage,' says he. Now, you see, that was nothin' +more than what he promised the waiver in his first promise; for, by +all accounts, the king's daughther was the greatest dhraggin ever was +seen, and had the divil's own tongue, and a beard a yard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> long, which +she <i>purtended</i> was put an her by way of a penance by Father Mulcahy, +her confissor; but it was well known it was in the family for ages, +and no wondher it was so long, by rayson of that same.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="APPENDIX" id="APPENDIX"></a>APPENDIX</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_009.jpg" width="600" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="CLASSIFICATION_OF_IRISH_FAIRIES" id="CLASSIFICATION_OF_IRISH_FAIRIES"></a>CLASSIFICATION OF IRISH FAIRIES</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>rish Fairies divide themselves into two great classes: the sociable +and the solitary. The first are in the main kindly, and the second +full of all uncharitableness.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Sociable Fairies</span></h3> + +<p>These creatures, who go about in troops, and quarrel, and make love, +much as men and women do, are divided into land fairies or Sheoques +(Ir. <i>Sidheog</i>, 'a little fairy,') and water fairies or Merrows (Ir. +<i>Moruadh</i>, 'a sea maid'; the masculine is unknown). At the same time I +am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> inclined to think that the term Sheoque may be applied to both +upon occasion, for I have heard of a whole village turning out to hear +two red-capped water fairies, who were very 'little fairies' indeed, +play upon the bagpipes.</p> + +<p>1. <b><i>The Sheoques.</i></b>—The Sheoques proper, however, are the spirits that +haunt the sacred thorn bushes and the green raths. All over Ireland +are little fields circled by ditches, and supposed to be ancient +fortifications and sheep-folds. These are the raths, or forts, or +'royalties,' as they are variously called. Here, marrying and giving +in marriage, live the land fairies. Many a mortal they are said to +have enticed down into their dim world. Many more have listened to +their fairy music, till all human cares and joys drifted from their +hearts and they became great peasant seers or 'Fairy Doctors,' or +great peasant musicians or poets like Carolan, who gathered his tunes +while sleeping on a fairy rath; or else they died in a year and a day, +to live ever after among the fairies. These Sheoques are on the whole +good; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> one most malicious habit have they—a habit worthy of a +witch. They steal children and leave a withered fairy, a thousand or +maybe two thousand years old, instead. Three or four years ago a man +wrote to one of the Irish papers, telling of a case in his own +village, and how the parish priest made the fairies deliver the stolen +child up again. At times full-grown men and women have been taken. +Near the village of Coloney, Sligo, I have been told, lives an old +woman who was taken in her youth. When she came home at the end of +seven years she had no toes, for she had danced them off. Now and then +one hears of some real injury being done a person by the land fairies, +but then it is nearly always deserved. They are said to have killed +two people in the last six months in the County Down district where I +am now staying. But then these persons had torn up thorn bushes +belonging to the Sheoques.</p> + +<p>2. <b><i>The Merrows.</i></b>—These water fairies are said to be common. I asked +a peasant woman once whether the fisher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>men of her village had ever +seen one. 'Indeed, they don't like to see them at all,' she answered, +'for they always bring bad weather.' Sometimes the Merrows come out of +the sea in the shape of little hornless cows. When in their own shape, +they have fishes' tails and wear a red cap called in Irish <i>cohuleen +driuth</i> (<a href="#Page_79">p. 79</a>). The men among them have, according to Croker, green +teeth, green hair, pigs' eyes, and red noses; but their women are +beautiful, and sometimes prefer handsome fishermen to their +green-haired lovers. Near Bantry, in the last century, lived a woman +covered with scales like a fish, who was descended, as the story goes, +from such a marriage. I have myself never heard tell of this grotesque +appearance of the male Merrows, and think it probably a merely local +Munster tradition.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Solitary Fairies</span></h3> + +<p>These are nearly all gloomy and terrible in some way. There are, +how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>ever, some among them who have light hearts and brave attire.</p> + +<p>1. <b><i>The Lepricaun</i></b> (Ir. <b><i>Leith bhrogan</i></b>, <i>i.e.</i> the one shoe +maker).—This creature is seen sitting under a hedge mending a shoe, +and one who catches him can make him deliver up his crocks of gold, +for he is a miser of great wealth; but if you take your eyes off him +the creature vanishes like smoke. He is said to be the child of an +evil spirit and a debased fairy, and wears, according to McAnally, a +red coat with seven buttons in each row, and a cocked-hat, on the +point of which he sometimes spins like a top. In Donegal he goes clad +in a great frieze coat.</p> + +<p>2. <b><i>The Cluricaun</i></b> (Ir. <b><i>Clobhair-cean</i></b> in O'Kearney).—Some writers +consider this to be another name for the Lepricaun, given him when he +has laid aside his shoe-making at night and goes on the spree. The +Cluricauns' occupations are robbing wine-cellars and riding sheep and +shepherds' dogs for a livelong night, until the morning finds them +panting and mud-covered.</p> + +<p>3. <b><i>The Gonconer or Ganconagh</i></b> (Ir.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> <b><i>Gean-canogh</i></b>, <i>i.e.</i> +love-talker).—This is a creature of the Lepricaun type, but, unlike +him, is a great idler. He appears in lonely valleys, always with a +pipe in his mouth, and spends his time in making love to shepherdesses +and milkmaids.</p> + +<p>4. <b><i>The Far Darrig</i></b> (Ir. <b><i>Fear Dearg</i></b>, <i>i.e.</i> red man).—This is the +practical joker of the other world. The wild Sligo story I give of 'A +Fairy Enchantment' was probably his work. Of these solitary and mainly +evil fairies there is no more lubberly wretch than this same Far +Darrig. Like the next phantom, he presides over evil dreams.</p> + +<p>5. <b><i>The Pooka</i></b> (Ir. <b><i>Púca</i></b>, a word derived by some from <i>poc</i>, a +he-goat).—The Pooka seems of the family of the nightmare. He has most +likely never appeared in human form, the one or two recorded instances +being probably mistakes, he being mixed up with the Far Darrig. His +shape is usually that of a horse, a bull, a goat, eagle, or ass. His +delight is to get a rider, whom he rushes with through ditches and +rivers and over mountains, and shakes off in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> gray of the morning. +Especially does he love to plague a drunkard: a drunkard's sleep is +his kingdom. At times he takes more unexpected forms than those of +beast or bird. The one that haunts the Dun of Coch-na-Phuca in +Kilkenny takes the form of a fleece of wool, and at night rolls out +into the surrounding fields, making a buzzing noise that so terrifies +the cattle that unbroken colts will run to the nearest man and lay +their heads upon his shoulder for protection.</p> + +<p>6. <b><i>The Dullahan.</i></b>—This is a most gruesome thing. He has no head, or +carries it under his arm. Often he is seen driving a black coach +called coach-a-bower (Ir. <i>Coite-bodhar</i>), drawn by headless horses. +It rumbles to your door, and if you open it a basin of blood is thrown +in your face. It is an omen of death to the houses where it pauses. +Such a coach not very long ago went through Sligo in the gray of the +morning, as was told me by a sailor who believed he saw it. In one +village I know its rumbling is said to be heard many times in the +year.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>7. <b><i>The Leanhaun Shee</i></b> (Ir. <b><i>Leanhaun sidhe</i></b>, <i>i.e.</i> fairy +mistress).—This spirit seeks the love of men. If they refuse, she is +their slave; if they consent, they are hers, and can only escape by +finding one to take their place. Her lovers waste away, for she lives +on their life. Most of the Gaelic poets, down to quite recent times, +have had a Leanhaun Shee, for she gives inspiration to her slaves and +is indeed the Gaelic muse—this malignant fairy. Her lovers, the +Gaelic poets, died young. She grew restless, and carried them away to +other worlds, for death does not destroy her power.</p> + +<p>8. <b><i>The Far Gorta</i></b> (man of hunger).—This is an emaciated fairy that +goes through the land in famine time, begging and bringing good luck +to the giver.</p> + +<p>9. <b><i>The Banshee</i></b> (Ir. <b><i>Bean-sidhe</i></b>, <i>i.e.</i> fairy woman).—This fairy, +like the Fear Gorta, differs from the general run of solitary fairies +by its generally good disposition. She is perhaps not really one of +them at all, but a sociable fairy grown solitary through much sorrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +The name corresponds to the less common Far Shee (Ir. <i>Fear Sidhe</i>), a +man fairy. She wails, as most people know, over the death of a member +of some old Irish family. Sometimes she is an enemy of the house and +screams with triumph, but more often a friend. When more than one +Banshee comes to cry, the man or woman who is dying must have been +very holy or very brave. Occasionally she is most undoubtedly one of +the sociable fairies. Cleena, once an Irish princess and then a +Munster goddess, and now a Sheoque, is thus mentioned by the greatest +of Irish antiquarians.</p> + +<p>O'Donovan, writing in 1849 to a friend, who quotes his words in the +<i>Dublin University Magazine</i>, says: 'When my grandfather died in +Leinster in 1798, Cleena came all the way from Ton Cleena to lament +him; but she has not been heard ever since lamenting any of our race, +though I believe she still weeps in the mountains of Drumaleaque in +her own country, where so many of the race of Eoghan More are dying of +starvation.' The Banshee on the other hand who cries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> with triumph is +often believed to be no fairy but a ghost of one wronged by an +ancestor of the dying. Some say wrongly that she never goes beyond the +seas, but dwells always in her own country. Upon the other hand, a +distinguished writer on anthropology assures me that he has heard her +on 1st December 1867, in Pital, near Libertad, Central America, as he +rode through a deep forest. She was dressed in pale yellow, and raised +a cry like the cry of a bat. She came to announce the death of his +father. This is her cry, written down by him with the help of a +Frenchman and a violin.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<img src="images/music.jpg" width="418" height="146" alt="music no caption " title="" /> +<span class="caption">music</span> +</div> + +<p>He saw and heard her again on 5th February 1871, at 16 Devonshire +Street, Queen's Square, London. She came this time to announce the +death of his eldest child; and in 1884 he again saw and heard her at +28 East Street, Queen's Square, the death of his mother being the +cause.</p> + +<p>The Banshee is called <i>badh</i> or <i>bowa</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> in East Munster, and is named +<i>Bachuntha</i> by Banim in one of his novels.</p> + +<p><b><i>Other Fairies and Spirits.</i></b>—Besides the foregoing, we have other +solitary fairies, of which too little definite is known to give them +each a separate mention. They are the House Spirits, of whom 'Teigue +of the Lee' is probably an instance; the Water Sherie, a kind of +will-o'-the-wisp; the Sowlth, a formless luminous creature; the Pastha +(<i>Piast-bestia</i>), the lake dragon, a guardian of hidden treasure; and +the Bo men fairies, who live in the marshes of County Down and destroy +the unwary. They may be driven away by a blow from a particular kind +of sea-weed. I suspect them of being Scotch fairies imported by Scotch +settlers. Then there is the great tribe of ghosts called Thivishes in +some parts.</p> + +<p>These are all the fairies and spirits I have come across in Irish +folklore. There are probably many others undiscovered.</p> + +<p class="p4"><span class="smcap">W. B. YEATS.</span></p> + +<p class="p3"><span class="smcap">Co. Down</span>, <i>June 1891</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="600" height="226" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h2><a name="AUTHORITIES_ON_IRISH_FOLKLORE" id="AUTHORITIES_ON_IRISH_FOLKLORE"></a>AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLKLORE</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="75" height="77" /></div> +<p>roker's <i>Legends of the South of Ireland</i>; Lady Wilde's <i>Ancient +Legends of Ireland</i>, and <i>Ancient Charms</i>; Sir William Wilde's <i>Irish +Popular Superstitions</i>; McAnally's <i>Irish Wonders</i>; <i>Irish Folklore</i>, +by Lageniensis (Father O'Hanlan); Curtins's <i>Myths and Folklore of +Ireland</i>; Douglas Hyde's <i>Beside the Fire</i> and his <i>Leabhar +Sgeulaigheachta</i>; Patrick Kennedy's <i>Legendary Fictions of the Irish +Peasantry</i>, his <i>Banks of the Boro</i>, his <i>Evenings on the Duffrey</i>, +and his <i>Legends of Mount Leinster</i>; the chap-books, <i>Royal Fairy +Tales</i>, and <i>Tales of the Fairies</i>. There is also much folklore in +Carleton's <i>Traits and Stories</i>;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> in Lover's <i>Legends and Stories of +the Irish Peasantry</i>; in Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall's <i>Ireland</i>; in Lady +Chatterton's <i>Rambles in the South of Ireland</i>; in Gerald Griffen's +<i>Tales of a Jury Room</i> in particular, and in his other books in +general. It would repay the trouble if some Irish magazine would +select from his works the stray legends and scraps of fairy belief. +There is much in the <i>Collegians</i>. There is also folklore in the +chap-book <i>Hibernian Tales</i>, and a Banshee story or two will be found +in Miss Lefanu's <i>Memoirs of my Grandmother</i>, and in Barrington's +<i>Recollections</i>. There are also stories in Donovan's introduction to +the <i>Four Masters</i>. The best articles are those in the <i>Dublin and +London Magazine</i> ("The Fairy Greyhound" is from this collection) for +1827 and 1829, about a dozen in all, and David Fitzgerald's various +contributions to the <i>Review Celtique</i> in our own day, and Miss +M'Clintock's articles in the <i>Dublin University Magazine</i> for 1878. +There are good articles also in the <i>Dublin University Magazine</i> for +1839, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> much Irish folklore is within the pages of the <i>Folklore +Journal</i> and the <i>Folklore Record</i>, and in the proceedings of the +<i>Kilkenny Archæological Society</i>. The <i>Penny Journal</i>, the <i>Newry +Magazine</i>, <i>Duffy's Sixpenny Magazine</i>, and the <i>Hibernian Magazine</i>, +are also worth a search by any Irish writer on the look-out for +subjects for song or ballad. My own articles in the <i>Scots Observer</i> +and <i>National Observer</i> give many gatherings from the little-reaped +Connaught fields. I repeat this list of authorities from my <i>Fairy and +Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry</i>,—a compilation from some of the +sources mentioned,—bringing it down to date and making one or two +corrections. The reader who would know Irish tradition should read +these books above all others—Lady Wilde's <i>Ancient Legends</i>, Douglas +Hyde's <i>Beside the Fire</i>, and a book not mentioned in the foregoing +list, for it deals with the bardic rather than the folk literature, +Standish O'Grady's <i>History of Ireland, Heroic Period</i>—perhaps the +most imaginative book written on any Irish subject in recent decades.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3><i>THE CHILDREN'S LIBRARY.</i></h3> +<ul> +<li>THE BROWN OWL.</li> + +<li>A CHINA CUP, <span class="smcap">and other Stories</span>.</li> + +<li>STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND.</li> + +<li>THE LITTLE PRINCESS.</li> + +<li>THE STORY OF A PUPPET.</li> + +<li>TALES FROM THE MABINOGION.</li> + +<li>IRISH FAIRY TALES.</li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>(Others in the Press.)</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_024.jpg" width="600" height="194" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h5>A</h5> +<h2>SELECTED LIST</h2> +<h5>OF</h5> +<h2>JUVENILE BOOKS</h2> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s.</i></p> + +<p>CHILDREN'S STORIES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE, from Shakespeare to +Tennyson. By <span class="smcap">H. C. Wright</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A genial book."—<i>Speaker.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s.</i></p> + +<p>BOYS' OWN STORIES. By <span class="smcap">Ascott R. Hope</span>. 3rd Edition. Eight +Illustrations.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The stories are well told."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s.</i></p> + +<p>ROYAL YOUTHS: A Book of Prince-hoods. By <span class="smcap">Ascott R. Hope</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Well told and full of interest."—<i>National Observer.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Large crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s.</i></p> + +<p>ROBINSON CRUSOE. Newly Edited after the original Editions. 19 +full-page Illustrations.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Gives an account of Defoe which is very much to the +point."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Imperial 16mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 3s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p>DICK'S HOLIDAYS, and What He Did with Them. Illustrated. Cheaper +Edition.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A volume for which every budding botanist who gets it has +good reason to be thankful."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Small 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 3s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p>WHEN MOTHER WAS LITTLE. By <span class="smcap">S. P. Yorke</span>. 13 full-page Illustrations.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"In all respects an agreeable and well-written +story."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 6s.</i></p> + +<p>TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. 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Krœker</span>. 3rd +Edition.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Welcome in the nursery. The translation has been very +cleverly accomplished."—<i>Academy.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Illustrated paper boards, 5s.; cloth, gilt edges, 6s.</i></p> + +<p>NEW FAIRY TALES FROM BRENTANO. By <span class="smcap">Kate F. Krœker</span>. 8 coloured +Illustrations.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I read the book with edification and delight."—<i>Truth.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Medium 4to, paper boards, 3s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p>THE BROWNIES: Their Book. By <span class="smcap">Palmer Cox</span>. 4th Edition. Illustrated.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The Brownies are such prime favourites."—<i>Guardian.</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Medium 4to, cloth, 6s.</i></p> + +<p>ANOTHER BROWNIE BOOK. By <span class="smcap">Palmer Cox</span>. 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By their Son, <span class="smcap">John Smith +Moffat</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Eminently deserving of a permanent record. Mr. Moffat's +work is calculated to increase the veneration with which the +memory of the veteran missionary is regarded by +multitudes."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></div> + +<p>9. FAMOUS MUSICAL COMPOSERS. By <span class="smcap">Lydia J. 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B. (William +Butler) Yeats, Illustrated by Jack B. Yeats + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Irish Fairy Tales + + +Editor: W. B. (William Butler) Yeats + +Release Date: March 25, 2010 [eBook #31763] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH FAIRY TALES*** + + +E-text prepared by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from +page images generously made available by Internet Archive +(http://www.archive.org) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 31763-h.htm or 31763-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31763/31763-h/31763-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31763/31763-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + http://www.archive.org/details/fairytalesirish00yeatrich + + + + + +IRISH FAIRY TALES + +Edited + +With an Introduction + +by + +W. B. YEATS + +Author of 'The Wanderings of Oisin,' Etc. + +Illustrated by Jack B. Yeats + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "PLAYING AWAY ON THE PIPES AS MERRILY AS IF NOTHING HAD +HAPPENED." (_Page_ 48.)] + + + +London +T. Fisher Unwin +1892 + + + + +_WHERE MY BOOKS GO._ + + _All the words that I gather, + And all the words that I write, + Must spread out their wings untiring, + And never rest in their flight, + Till they come where your sad, sad heart is, + And sing to you in the night, + Beyond where the waters are moving, + Storm darkened or starry bright._ + +_W. B. YEATS._ + +LONDON, _January 1892_. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + INTRODUCTION 1 + + LAND AND WATER FAIRIES + + THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE 13 + + THE RIVAL KEMPERS 17 + + THE YOUNG PIPER 32 + + A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT 49 + + TEIGUE OF THE LEE 53 + + THE FAIRY GREYHOUND 69 + + THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 77 + + + EVIL SPIRITS + + THE DEVIL'S MILL 95 + + FERGUS O'MARA AND THE AIR-DEMONS 112 + + THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW FEAR 123 + + + CATS + + SEANCHAN THE BARD AND THE KING OF THE CATS 141 + + OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 151 + + + KINGS AND WARRIORS + + THE KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN 185 + + THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE 195 + + + APPENDIX + + CLASSIFICATION OF IRISH FAIRIES 223 + + AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLKLORE 234 + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +AN IRISH STORY-TELLER + + +I am often doubted when I say that the Irish peasantry still believe +in fairies. People think I am merely trying to bring back a little of +the old dead beautiful world of romance into this century of great +engines and spinning-jinnies. Surely the hum of wheels and clatter of +printing presses, to let alone the lecturers with their black coats +and tumblers of water, have driven away the goblin kingdom and made +silent the feet of the little dancers. + +Old Biddy Hart at any rate does not think so. Our bran-new opinions +have never been heard of under her brown-thatched roof tufted with +yellow stone-crop. It is not so long since I sat by the turf fire +eating her griddle cake in her cottage on the slope of Benbulben and +asking after her friends, the fairies, who inhabit the green +thorn-covered hill up there behind her house. How firmly she believed +in them! How greatly she feared offending them! For a long time she +would give me no answer but 'I always mind my own affairs and they +always mind theirs.' A little talk about my great-grandfather who +lived all his life in the valley below, and a few words to remind her +how I myself was often under her roof when but seven or eight years +old loosened her tongue, however. It would be less dangerous at any +rate to talk to me of the fairies than it would be to tell some +'Towrow' of them, as she contemptuously called English tourists, for I +had lived under the shadow of their own hillsides. She did not +forget, however, to remind me to say after we had finished, 'God bless +them, Thursday' (that being the day), and so ward off their +displeasure, in case they were angry at our notice, for they love to +live and dance unknown of men. + +Once started, she talked on freely enough, her face glowing in the +firelight as she bent over the griddle or stirred the turf, and told +how such a one was stolen away from near Coloney village and made to +live seven years among 'the gentry,' as she calls the fairies for +politeness' sake, and how when she came home she had no toes, for she +had danced them off; and how such another was taken from the +neighbouring village of Grange and compelled to nurse the child of the +queen of the fairies a few months before I came. Her news about the +creatures is always quite matter-of-fact and detailed, just as if she +dealt with any common occurrence: the late fair, or the dance at +Rosses last year, when a bottle of whisky was given to the best man, +and a cake tied up in ribbons to the best woman dancer. They are, to +her, people not so different from herself, only grander and finer in +every way. They have the most beautiful parlours and drawing-rooms, +she would tell you, as an old man told me once. She has endowed them +with all she knows of splendour, although that is not such a great +deal, for her imagination is easily pleased. What does not seem to us +so very wonderful is wonderful to her, there, where all is so homely +under her wood rafters and her thatched ceiling covered with +whitewashed canvas. We have pictures and books to help us imagine a +splendid fairy world of gold and silver, of crowns and marvellous +draperies; but she has only that little picture of St. Patrick over +the fireplace, the bright-coloured crockery on the dresser, and the +sheet of ballads stuffed by her young daughter behind the stone dog +on the mantelpiece. Is it strange, then, if her fairies have not the +fantastic glories of the fairies you and I are wont to see in +picture-books and read of in stories? She will tell you of peasants +who met the fairy cavalcade and thought it but a troop of peasants +like themselves until it vanished into shadow and night, and of great +fairy palaces that were mistaken, until they melted away, for the +country seats of rich gentlemen. + +Her views of heaven itself have the same homeliness, and she would be +quite as naive about its personages if the chance offered as was the +pious Clondalkin laundress who told a friend of mine that she had seen +a vision of St. Joseph, and that he had 'a lovely shining hat upon him +and a shirt-buzzom that was never starched in this world.' She would +have mixed some quaint poetry with it, however; for there is a world +of difference between Benbulben and Dublinised Clondalkin. + +Heaven and Fairyland--to these has Biddy Hart given all she dreams of +magnificence, and to them her soul goes out--to the one in love and +hope, to the other in love and fear--day after day and season after +season; saints and angels, fairies and witches, haunted thorn-trees +and holy wells, are to her what books, and plays, and pictures are to +you and me. Indeed they are far more; for too many among us grow +prosaic and commonplace, but she keeps ever a heart full of music. 'I +stand here in the doorway,' she said once to me on a fine day, 'and +look at the mountain and think of the goodness of God'; and when she +talks of the fairies I have noticed a touch of tenderness in her +voice. She loves them because they are always young, always making +festival, always far off from the old age that is coming upon her and +filling her bones with aches, and because, too, they are so like +little children. + +Do you think the Irish peasant would be so full of poetry if he had +not his fairies? Do you think the peasant girls of Donegal, when they +are going to service inland, would kneel down as they do and kiss the +sea with their lips if both sea and land were not made lovable to them +by beautiful legends and wild sad stories? Do you think the old men +would take life so cheerily and mutter their proverb, 'The lake is not +burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul +that is in him,' if the multitude of spirits were not near them? + +W. B. YEATS. + +CLONDALKIN, + +_July 1891_. + + + + +NOTE + + +I have to thank Lady Wilde for leave to give 'Seanchan the Bard' from +her _Ancient Legends of Ireland_ (Ward and Downey), the most poetical +and ample collection of Irish folklore yet published; Mr. Standish +O'Grady for leave to give 'The Knighting of Cuculain' from that prose +epic he has curiously named _History of Ireland, Heroic Period_; +Professor Joyce for his 'Fergus O'Mara and the Air Demons'; and Mr. +Douglas Hyde for his unpublished story, 'The Man who never knew +Fear.' + +I have included no story that has already appeared in my _Fairy and +Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry_ (Camelot Series). + +The two volumes make, I believe, a fairly representative collection of +Irish folk tales. + + + + +LAND AND WATER FAIRIES + + + + +THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE + +BY WILLIAM CARLETON + + +Lanty M'Clusky had married a wife, and, of course, it was necessary to +have a house in which to keep her. Now, Lanty had taken a bit of a +farm, about six acres; but as there was no house on it, he resolved to +build one; and that it might be as comfortable as possible, he +selected for the site of it one of those beautiful green circles that +are supposed to be the play-ground of the fairies. Lanty was warned +against this; but as he was a headstrong man, and not much given to +fear, he said he would not change such a pleasant situation for his +house to oblige all the fairies in Europe. He accordingly proceeded +with the building, which he finished off very neatly; and, as it is +usual on these occasions to give one's neighbours and friends a +house-warming, so, in compliance with this good and pleasant old +custom, Lanty having brought home the wife in the course of the day, +got a fiddler and a lot of whisky, and gave those who had come to see +him a dance in the evening. This was all very well, and the fun and +hilarity were proceeding briskly, when a noise was heard after night +had set in, like a crushing and straining of ribs and rafters on the +top of the house. The folks assembled all listened, and, without +doubt, there was nothing heard but crushing, and heaving, and pushing, +and groaning, and panting, as if a thousand little men were engaged +in pulling down the roof. + +'Come,' said a voice which spoke in a tone of command, 'work hard: you +know we must have Lanty's house down before midnight.' + +This was an unwelcome piece of intelligence to Lanty, who, finding +that his enemies were such as he could not cope with, walked out, and +addressed them as follows: + +'Gintlemen, I humbly ax yer pardon for buildin' on any place belongin' +to you; but if you'll have the civilitude to let me alone this night, +I'll begin to pull down and remove the house to-morrow morning.' + +This was followed by a noise like the clapping of a thousand tiny +little hands, and a shout of 'Bravo, Lanty! build half-way between the +two White-thorns above the boreen'; and after another hearty little +shout of exultation, there was a brisk rushing noise, and they were +heard no more. + +The story, however, does not end here; for Lanty, when digging the +foundation of his new house, found the full of a _kam_[1] of gold: so +that in leaving to the fairies their play-ground, he became a richer +man than ever he otherwise would have been, had he never come in +contact with them at all. + +[Footnote 1: _Kam_--a metal vessel in which the peasantry dip +rushlights.] + + + + +THE RIVAL KEMPERS + +BY WILLIAM CARLETON + + +In the north of Ireland there are spinning meetings of unmarried +females frequently held at the houses of farmers, called _kemps_. +Every young woman who has got the reputation of being a quick and +expert spinner attends where the kemp is to be held, at an hour +usually before daylight, and on these occasions she is accompanied by +her sweetheart or some male relative, who carries her wheel, and +conducts her safely across the fields or along the road, as the case +may be. A kemp is, indeed, an animated and joyous scene, and one, +besides, which is calculated to promote industry and decent pride. +Scarcely anything can be more cheering and agreeable than to hear at a +distance, breaking the silence of morning, the light-hearted voices of +many girls either in mirth or song, the humming sound of the busy +wheels--jarred upon a little, it is true, by the stridulous noise and +checkings of the reels, and the voices of the reelers, as they call +aloud the checks, together with the name of the girl and the quantity +she has spun up to that period; for the contest is generally commenced +two or three hours before daybreak. This mirthful spirit is also +sustained by the prospect of a dance--with which, by the way, every +kemp closes; and when the fair victor is declared, she is to be looked +upon as the queen of the meeting, and treated with the necessary +respect. + +But to our tale. Every one knew Shaun Buie M'Gaveran to be the +cleanest, best-conducted boy, and the most industrious too, in the +whole parish of Faugh-a-ballagh. Hard was it to find a young fellow +who could handle a flail, spade, or reaping-hook in better style, or +who could go through his day's work in a more creditable or +workmanlike manner. In addition to this, he was a fine, well-built, +handsome young man as you could meet in a fair; and so, sign was on +it, maybe the pretty girls weren't likely to pull each other's caps +about him. Shaun, however, was as prudent as he was good-looking; and +although he wanted a wife, yet the sorrow one of him but preferred +taking a well-handed, smart girl, who was known to be well-behaved and +industrious, like himself. Here, however, was where the puzzle lay on +him; for instead of one girl of that kind, there were in the +neighbourhood no less than a dozen of them--all equally fit and +willing to become his wife, and all equally good-looking. There were +two, however, whom he thought a trifle above the rest; but so nicely +balanced were Biddy Corrigan and Sally Gorman, that for the life of +him he could not make up his mind to decide between them. Each of them +had won her kemp; and it was currently said by them who ought to know, +that neither of them could over-match the other. No two girls in the +parish were better respected, or deserved to be so; and the +consequence was, they had every one's good word and good wish. Now it +so happened that Shaun had been pulling a cord with each; and as he +knew not how to decide between, he thought he would allow them to do +that themselves if they could. He accordingly gave out to the +neighbours that he would hold a kemp on that day week, and he told +Biddy and Sally especially that he had made up his mind to marry +whichever of them won the kemp, for he knew right well, as did all +the parish, that one of them must. The girls agreed to this very +good-humouredly, Biddy telling Sally that she (Sally) would surely win +it; and Sally, not to be outdone in civility, telling the same thing +to her. + +Well, the week was nearly past, there being but two days till that of +the kemp, when, about three o'clock, there walks into the house of old +Paddy Corrigan a little woman dressed in high-heeled shoes and a short +red cloak. There was no one in the house but Biddy at the time, who +rose up and placed a chair near the fire, and asked the little red +woman to sit down and rest herself. She accordingly did so, and in a +short time a lively chat commenced between them. + +'So,' said the strange woman, 'there's to be a great kemp in Shaun +Buie M'Gaveran's?' + +'Indeed there is that, good woman,' replied Biddy, smiling and +blushing to back of that again, because she knew her own fate +depended on it. + +'And,' continued the little woman, 'whoever wins the kemp wins a +husband?' + +'Ay, so it seems.' + +'Well, whoever gets Shaun will be a happy woman, for he's the moral of +a good boy.' + +'That's nothing but the truth, anyhow,' replied Biddy, sighing, for +fear, you may be sure, that she herself might lose him; and indeed a +young woman might sigh from many a worse reason. 'But,' said she, +changing the subject, 'you appear to be tired, honest woman, an' I +think you had better eat a bit, an' take a good drink of _buinnhe +ramwher_ (thick milk) to help you on your journey.' + +'Thank you kindly, a colleen,' said the woman; 'I'll take a bit, if +you plase, hopin', at the same time, that you won't be the poorer of +it this day twelve months.' + +'Sure,' said the girl, 'you know that what we give from kindness ever +an' always leaves a blessing behind it.' + +'Yes, acushla, when it _is_ given from kindness.' + +She accordingly helped herself to the food that Biddy placed before +her, and appeared, after eating, to be very much refreshed. + +'Now,' said she, rising up, 'you're a very good girl, an' if you are +able to find out my name before Tuesday morning, the kemp-day, I tell +you that you'll win it, and gain the husband.' + +'Why,' said Biddy, 'I never saw you before. I don't know who you are, +nor where you live; how then can I ever find out your name?' + +'You never saw me before, sure enough,' said the old woman, 'an' I +tell you that you never will see me again but once; an' yet if you +have not my name for me at the close of the kemp, you'll lose all, an' +that will leave you a sore heart, for well I know you love Shaun +Buie.' + +So saying, she went away, and left poor Biddy quite cast down at what +she had said, for, to tell the truth, she loved Shaun very much, and +had no hopes of being able to find out the name of the little woman, +on which, it appeared, so much to her depended. + +It was very near the same hour of the same day that Sally Gorman was +sitting alone in her father's house, thinking of the kemp, when who +should walk in to her but our friend the little red woman. + +'God save you, honest woman,' said Sally, 'this is a fine day that's +in it, the Lord be praised!' + +'It is,' said the woman, 'as fine a day as one could wish for: indeed +it is.' + +'Have you no news on your travels?' asked Sally. + +'The only news in the neighbourhood,' replied the other, 'is this +great kemp that's to take place at Shaun Buie M'Gaveran's. They say +you're either to win him or lose him then,' she added, looking +closely at Sally as she spoke. + +'I'm not very much afraid of that,' said Sally, with confidence; 'but +even if I do lose him, I may get as good.' + +'It's not easy gettin' as good,' rejoined the old woman, 'an' you +ought to be very glad to win him, if you can.' + +'Let me alone for that,' said Sally. 'Biddy's a good girl, I allow; +but as for spinnin', she never saw the day she could leave me behind +her. Won't you sit an' rest you?' she added; 'maybe you're tired.' + +'It's time for you to think of it,' _thought_ the woman, but she spoke +nothing: 'but,' she added to herself on reflection, 'it's better late +than never--I'll sit awhile, till I see a little closer what she's +made of.' + +She accordingly sat down and chatted upon several subjects, such as +young women like to talk about, for about half an hour; after which +she arose, and taking her little staff in hand, she bade Sally +good-bye, and went her way. After passing a little from the house she +looked back, and could not help speaking to herself as follows: + + 'She's smooth and smart, + But she wants the heart; + She's tight and neat, + But she gave no meat.' + +Poor Biddy now made all possible inquiries about the old woman, but to +no purpose. Not a soul she spoke to about her had ever seen or heard +of such a woman. She felt very dispirited, and began to lose heart, +for there is no doubt that if she missed Shaun it would have cost her +many a sorrowful day. She knew she would never get his equal, or at +least any one that she loved so well. At last the kemp day came, and +with it all the pretty girls of the neighbourhood to Shaun Buie's. +Among the rest, the two that were to decide their right to him were +doubtless the handsomest pair by far, and every one admired them. To +be sure, it was a blythe and merry place, and many a light laugh and +sweet song rang out from pretty lips that day. Biddy and Sally, as +every one expected, were far ahead of the rest, but so even in their +spinning that the reelers could not for the life of them declare which +was the better. It was neck-and-neck and head-and-head between the +pretty creatures, and all who were at the kemp felt themselves wound +up to the highest pitch of interest and curiosity to know which of +them would be successful. + +The day was now more than half gone, and no difference was between +them, when, to the surprise and sorrow of every one present, Biddy +Corrigan's _heck_ broke in two, and so to all appearance ended the +contest in favour of her rival; and what added to her mortification, +she was as ignorant of the red little woman's name as ever. What was +to be done? All that could be done was done. Her brother, a boy of +about fourteen years of age, happened to be present when the accident +took place, having been sent by his father and mother to bring them +word how the match went on between the rival spinsters. Johnny +Corrigan was accordingly despatched with all speed to Donnel +M'Cusker's, the wheelwright, in order to get the heck mended, that +being Biddy's last but hopeless chance. Johnny's anxiety that his +sister should win was of course very great, and in order to lose as +little time as possible he struck across the country, passing through, +or rather close by, Kilrudden forth, a place celebrated as a resort of +the fairies. What was his astonishment, however, as he passed a +White-thorn tree, to hear a female voice singing, in accompaniment to +the sound of a spinning-wheel, the following words: + + 'There's a girl in this town doesn't know my name; + But my name's Even Trot--Even Trot.' + +'There's a girl in this town,' said the lad, 'who's in great distress, +for she has broken her heck, and lost a husband. I'm now goin' to +Donnel M'Cusker's to get it mended.' + +'What's her name?' said the little red woman. + +'Biddy Corrigan.' + +The little woman immediately whipped out the heck from her own wheel, +and giving it to the boy, desired him to take it to his sister, and +never mind Donnel M'Cusker. + +'You have little time to lose,' she added, 'so go back and give her +this; but don't tell her how you got it, nor, above all things, that +it was Even Trot that gave it to you.' + +The lad returned, and after giving the heck to his sister, as a matter +of course told her that it was a little red woman called Even Trot +that sent it to her, a circumstance which made tears of delight start +to Biddy's eyes, for she knew now that Even Trot was the name of the +old woman, and having known that, she felt that something good would +happen to her. She now resumed her spinning, and never did human +fingers let down the thread so rapidly. The whole kemp were amazed at +the quantity which from time to time filled her pirn. The hearts of +her friends began to rise, and those of Sally's party to sink, as hour +after hour she was fast approaching her rival, who now spun if +possible with double speed on finding Biddy coming up with her. At +length they were again even, and just at that moment in came her +friend the little red woman, and asked aloud, 'Is there any one in +this kemp that knows my name?' This question she asked three times +before Biddy could pluck up courage to answer her. She at last said, + + 'There's a girl in this town does know your name-- + Your name is Even Trot--Even Trot.' + +'Ay,' said the old woman, 'and so it is; and let that name be your +guide and your husband's through life. Go steadily along, but let your +step be even; stop little; keep always advancing; and you'll never +have cause to rue the day that you first saw Even Trot.' + +We need scarcely add that Biddy won the kemp and the husband, and that +she and Shaun lived long and happily together; and I have only now to +wish, kind reader, that you and I may live longer and more happily +still. + + + + +THE YOUNG PIPER + +BY CROFTON CROKER + + +There lived not long since, on the borders of the county Tipperary, a +decent honest couple, whose names were Mick Flannigan and Judy +Muldoon. These poor people were blessed, as the saying is, with four +children, all boys: three of them were as fine, stout, healthy, +good-looking children as ever the sun shone upon; and it was enough to +make any Irishman proud of the breed of his countrymen to see them +about one o'clock on a fine summer's day standing at their father's +cabin door, with their beautiful flaxen hair hanging in curls about +their head, and their cheeks like two rosy apples, and a big laughing +potato smoking in their hand. A proud man was Mick of these fine +children, and a proud woman, too, was Judy; and reason enough they had +to be so. But it was far otherwise with the remaining one, which was +the third eldest: he was the most miserable, ugly, ill-conditioned +brat that ever God put life into; he was so ill-thriven that he never +was able to stand alone, or to leave his cradle; he had long, shaggy, +matted, curled hair, as black as the soot; his face was of a +greenish-yellow colour; his eyes were like two burning coals, and were +for ever moving in his head, as if they had the perpetual motion. +Before he was a twelvemonth old he had a mouth full of great teeth; +his hands were like kites' claws, and his legs were no thicker than +the handle of a whip, and about as straight as a reaping-hook: to +make the matter worse, he had the appetite of a cormorant, and the +whinge, and the yelp, and the screech, and the yowl, was never out of +his mouth. + +The neighbours all suspected that he was something not right, +particularly as it was observed, when people, as they do in the +country, got about the fire, and began to talk of religion and good +things, the brat, as he lay in the cradle, which his mother generally +put near the fireplace that he might be snug, used to sit up, as they +were in the middle of their talk, and begin to bellow as if the devil +was in him in right earnest; this, as I said, led the neighbours to +think that all was not right, and there was a general consultation +held one day about what would be best to do with him. Some advised to +put him out on the shovel, but Judy's pride was up at that. A pretty +thing indeed, that a child of hers should be put on a shovel and +flung out on the dunghill just like a dead kitten or a poisoned rat; +no, no, she would not hear to that at all. One old woman, who was +considered very skilful and knowing in fairy matters, strongly +recommended her to put the tongs in the fire, and heat them red hot, +and to take his nose in them, and that would beyond all manner of +doubt make him tell what he was and where he came from (for the +general suspicion was, that he had been changed by the good people); +but Judy was too softhearted, and too fond of the imp, so she would +not give in to this plan, though everybody said she was wrong, and +maybe she was, but it's hard to blame a mother. Well, some advised one +thing, and some another; at last one spoke of sending for the priest, +who was a very holy and a very learned man, to see it. To this Judy of +course had no objection; but one thing or other always prevented her +doing so, and the upshot of the business was that the priest never +saw him. + +Things went on in the old way for some time longer. The brat continued +yelping and yowling, and eating more than his three brothers put +together, and playing all sorts of unlucky tricks, for he was mighty +mischievously inclined, till it happened one day that Tim Carrol, the +blind piper, going his rounds, called in and sat down by the fire to +have a bit of chat with the woman of the house. So after some time +Tim, who was no churl of his music, yoked on the pipes, and began to +bellows away in high style; when the instant he began, the young +fellow, who had been lying as still as a mouse in his cradle, sat up, +began to grin and twist his ugly face, to swing about his long tawny +arms, and to kick out his crooked legs, and to show signs of great +glee at the music. At last nothing would serve him but he should get +the pipes into his own hands, and to humour him his mother asked Tim +to lend them to the child for a minute. Tim, who was kind to children, +readily consented; and as Tim had not his sight, Judy herself brought +them to the cradle, and went to put them on him; but she had no +occasion, for the youth seemed quite up to the business. He buckled on +the pipes, set the bellows under one arm, and the bag under the other, +worked them both as knowingly as if he had been twenty years at the +business, and lilted up 'Sheela na guira' in the finest style +imaginable. + +All were in astonishment: the poor woman crossed herself. Tim, who, as +I said before, was _dark_, and did not well know who was playing, was +in great delight; and when he heard that it was a little _prechan_ not +five years old, that had never seen a set of pipes in his life, he +wished the mother joy of her son; offered to take him off her hands if +she would part with him, swore he was a _born_ piper, a natural +_genus_, and declared that in a little time more, with the help of a +little good instruction from himself, there would not be his match in +the whole country. The poor woman was greatly delighted to hear all +this, particularly as what Tim said about natural _genus_ quieted some +misgivings that were rising in her mind, lest what the neighbours said +about his not being right might be too true; and it gratified her +moreover to think that her dear child (for she really loved the whelp) +would not be forced to turn out and beg, but might earn decent bread +for himself. So when Mick came home in the evening from his work, she +up and told him all that had happened, and all that Tim Carrol had +said; and Mick, as was natural, was very glad to hear it, for the +helpless condition of the poor creature was a great trouble to him. So +next day he took the pig to the fair, and with what it brought set +off to Clonmel, and bespoke a bran-new set of pipes, of the proper +size for him. + +In about a fortnight the pipes came home, and the moment the chap in +his cradle laid eyes on them he squealed with delight and threw up his +pretty legs, and bumped himself in his cradle, and went on with a +great many comical tricks; till at last, to quiet him, they gave him +the pipes, and he immediately set to and pulled away at 'Jig Polthog,' +to the admiration of all who heard him. + +The fame of his skill on the pipes soon spread far and near, for there +was not a piper in the six next counties could come at all near him, +in 'Old Moderagh rue,' or 'The Hare in the Corn,' or 'The Fox-hunter's +Jig,' or 'The Rakes of Cashel,' or 'The Piper's Maggot,' or any of the +fine Irish jigs which make people dance whether they will or no: and +it was surprising to hear him rattle away 'The Fox-hunt'; you'd really +think you heard the hounds giving tongue, and the terriers yelping +always behind, and the huntsman and the whippers-in cheering or +correcting the dogs; it was, in short, the very next thing to seeing +the hunt itself. + +The best of him was, he was noways stingy of his music, and many a +merry dance the boys and girls of the neighbourhood used to have in +his father's cabin; and he would play up music for them, that they +said used as it were to put quicksilver in their feet; and they all +declared they never moved so light and so airy to any piper's playing +that ever they danced to. + +But besides all his fine Irish music, he had one queer tune of his +own, the oddest that ever was heard; for the moment he began to play +it everything in the house seemed disposed to dance; the plates and +porringers used to jingle on the dresser, the pots and pot-hooks used +to rattle in the chimney, and people used even to fancy they felt the +stools moving from under them; but, however it might be with the +stools, it is certain that no one could keep long sitting on them, for +both old and young always fell to capering as hard as ever they could. +The girls complained that when he began this tune it always threw them +out in their dancing, and that they never could handle their feet +rightly, for they felt the floor like ice under them, and themselves +every moment ready to come sprawling on their backs or their faces. +The young bachelors who wished to show off their dancing and their new +pumps, and their bright red or green and yellow garters, swore that it +confused them so that they never could go rightly through the _heel +and toe_ or _cover the buckle_, or any of their best steps, but felt +themselves always all bedizzied and bewildered, and then old and young +would go jostling and knocking together in a frightful manner; and +when the unlucky brat had them all in this way, whirligigging about +the floor, he'd grin and chuckle and chatter, for all the world like +Jacko the monkey when he has played off some of his roguery. + +The older he grew the worse he grew, and by the time he was six years +old there was no standing the house for him; he was always making his +brothers burn or scald themselves, or break their shins over the pots +and stools. One time, in harvest, he was left at home by himself, and +when his mother came in she found the cat a-horseback on the dog, with +her face to the tail, and her legs tied round him, and the urchin +playing his queer tune to them; so that the dog went barking and +jumping about, and puss was mewing for the dear life, and slapping her +tail backwards and forwards, which, as it would hit against the dog's +chaps, he'd snap at and bite, and then there was the philliloo. +Another time, the farmer with whom Mick worked, a very decent, +respectable man, happened to call in, and Judy wiped a stool with her +apron, and invited him to sit down and rest himself after his walk. He +was sitting with his back to the cradle, and behind him was a pan of +blood, for Judy was making pig's puddings. The lad lay quite still in +his nest, and watched his opportunity till he got ready a hook at the +end of a piece of twine, which he contrived to fling so handily that +it caught in the bob of the man's nice new wig, and soused it in the +pan of blood. Another time his mother was coming in from milking the +cow, with the pail on her head: the minute he saw her he lilted up his +infernal tune, and the poor woman, letting go the pail, clapped her +hands aside, and began to dance a jig, and tumbled the milk all a-top +of her husband, who was bringing in some turf to boil the supper. In +short, there would be no end to telling all his pranks, and all the +mischievous tricks he played. + +Soon after, some mischances began to happen to the farmer's cattle. A +horse took the staggers, a fine veal calf died of the black-leg, and +some of his sheep of the red-water; the cows began to grow vicious, +and to kick down the milk-pails, and the roof of one end of the barn +fell in; and the farmer took it into his head that Mick Flannigan's +unlucky child was the cause of all the mischief. So one day he called +Mick aside, and said to him, 'Mick, you see things are not going on +with me as they ought, and to be plain with you, Mick, I think that +child of yours is the cause of it. I am really falling away to nothing +with fretting, and I can hardly sleep on my bed at night for thinking +of what may happen before the morning. So I'd be glad if you'd look +out for work somewhere else; you're as good a man as any in the +country, and there's no fear but you'll have your choice of work.' To +this Mick replied, 'that he was sorry for his losses, and still +sorrier that he or his should be thought to be the cause of them; that +for his own part he was not quite easy in his mind about that child, +but he had him and so must keep him'; and he promised to look out for +another place immediately. + +Accordingly, next Sunday at chapel Mick gave out that he was about +leaving the work at John Riordan's, and immediately a farmer who lived +a couple of miles off, and who wanted a ploughman (the last one having +just left him), came up to Mick, and offered him a house and garden, +and work all the year round. Mick, who knew him to be a good employer, +immediately closed with him; so it was agreed that the farmer should +send a car[2] to take his little bit of furniture, and that he should +remove on the following Thursday. + +[Footnote 2: Car, a cart.] + +When Thursday came, the car came according to promise, and Mick loaded +it, and put the cradle with the child and his pipes on the top, and +Judy sat beside it to take care of him, lest he should tumble out and +be killed. They drove the cow before them, the dog followed, but the +cat was of course left behind; and the other three children went along +the road picking skeehories (haws) and blackberries, for it was a fine +day towards the latter end of harvest. + +They had to cross a river, but as it ran through a bottom between two +high banks, you did not see it till you were close on it. The young +fellow was lying pretty quiet in the bottom of the cradle, till they +came to the head of the bridge, when hearing the roaring of the water +(for there was a great flood in the river, as it had rained heavily +for the last two or three days), he sat up in his cradle and looked +about him; and the instant he got a sight of the water, and found they +were going to take him across it, oh, how he did bellow and how he did +squeal! no rat caught in a snap-trap ever sang out equal to him. +'Whist! A lanna,' said Judy, 'there's no fear of you; sure it's only +over the stone bridge we're going.'--'Bad luck to you, you old rip!' +cried he, 'what a pretty trick you've played me to bring me here!' and +still went on yelling, and the farther they got on the bridge the +louder he yelled; till at last Mick could hold out no longer, so +giving him a great skelp of the whip he had in his hand, 'Devil choke +you, you brat!' said he, 'will you never stop bawling? a body can't +hear their ears for you.' The moment he felt the thong of the whip he +leaped up in the cradle, clapped the pipes under his arm, gave a most +wicked grin at Mick, and jumped clean over the battlements of the +bridge down into the water. 'Oh, my child, my child!' shouted Judy, +'he's gone for ever from me.' Mick and the rest of the children ran to +the other side of the bridge, and looking over, they saw him coming +out from under the arch of the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the top +of a white-headed wave, and playing away on the pipes as merrily as if +nothing had happened. The river was running very rapidly, so he was +whirled away at a great rate; but he played as fast, ay, and faster, +than the river ran; and though they set off as hard as they could +along the bank, yet, as the river made a sudden turn round the hill, +about a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he +was out of sight, and no one ever laid eyes on him more; but the +general opinion was that he went home with the pipes to his own +relations, the good people, to make music for them. + + + + +A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT + +_Story-teller_--MICHAEL HART + +_Recorder_--W. B. YEATS + + +In the times when we used to travel by canal I was coming down from +Dublin. When we came to Mullingar the canal ended, and I began to +walk, and stiff and fatigued I was after the slowness. I had some +friends with me, and now and then we walked, now and then we rode in a +cart. So on till we saw some girls milking a cow, and stopped to joke +with them. After a while we asked them for a drink of milk. 'We have +nothing to put it in here,' they said, 'but come to the house with +us.' We went home with them and sat round the fire talking. After a +while the others went, and left me, loath to stir from the good fire. +I asked the girls for something to eat. There was a pot on the fire, +and they took the meat out and put it on a plate and told me to eat +only the meat that came from the head. When I had eaten, the girls +went out and I did not see them again. + +It grew darker and darker, and there I still sat, loath as ever to +leave the good fire; and after a while two men came in, carrying +between them a corpse. When I saw them I hid behind the door. Says one +to the other, 'Who'll turn the spit?' Says the other, 'Michael Hart, +come out of that and turn the meat!' I came out in a tremble and began +turning the spit. 'Michael Hart,' says the one who spoke first, 'if +you let it burn we will have to put you on the spit instead,' and on +that they went out. I sat there trembling and turning the corpse until +midnight. The men came again, and the one said it was burnt, and the +other said it was done right, but having fallen out over it, they both +said they would do me no harm that time; and sitting by the fire one +of them cried out, 'Michael Hart, can you tell a story?' 'Never a +one,' said I. On that he caught me by the shoulders and put me out +like a shot. + +It was a wild, blowing night; never in all my born days did I see such +a night--the darkest night that ever came out of the heavens. I did +not know where I was for the life of me. So when one of the men came +after me and touched me on the shoulder with a 'Michael Hart, can you +tell a story now?'--'I can,' says I. In he brought me, and, putting me +by the fire, says 'Begin.' 'I have no story but the one,' says I, +'that I was sitting here, and that you two men brought in a corpse +and put it on the spit and set me turning it.' 'That will do,' says +he; 'you may go in there and lie down on the bed.' And in I went, +nothing loath, and in the morning where was I but in the middle of a +green field. + + + + +TEIGUE OF THE LEE + +BY CROFTON CROKER + + +I can't stop in the house--I won't stop in it for all the money that +is buried in the old castle of Carrigrohan. If ever there was such a +thing in the world!--to be abused to my face night and day, and nobody +to the fore doing it! and then, if I'm angry, to be laughed at with a +great roaring ho, ho, ho! I won't stay in the house after to-night, if +there was not another place in the country to put my head under.' This +angry soliloquy was pronounced in the hall of the old manor-house of +Carrigrohan by John Sheehan. John was a new servant; he had been only +three days in the house, which had the character of being haunted, and +in that short space of time he had been abused and laughed at by a +voice which sounded as if a man spoke with his head in a cask; nor +could he discover who was the speaker, or from whence the voice came. +'I'll not stop here,' said John; 'and that ends the matter.' + +'Ho, ho, ho! be quiet, John Sheehan, or else worse will happen to +you.' + +John instantly ran to the hall window, as the words were evidently +spoken by a person immediately outside, but no one was visible. He had +scarcely placed his face at the pane of glass when he heard another +loud 'Ho, ho, ho!' as if behind him in the hall; as quick as lightning +he turned his head, but no living thing was to be seen. + +'Ho, ho, ho, John!' shouted a voice that appeared to come from the +lawn before the house: 'do you think you'll see Teigue?--oh, never! as +long as you live! so leave alone looking after him, and mind your +business; there's plenty of company to dinner from Cork to be here +to-day, and 'tis time you had the cloth laid.' + +'Lord bless us! there's more of it!--I'll never stay another day +here,' repeated John. + +'Hold your tongue, and stay where you are quietly, and play no tricks +on Mr. Pratt, as you did on Mr. Jervois about the spoons.' + +John Sheehan was confounded by this address from his invisible +persecutor, but nevertheless he mustered courage enough to say, 'Who +are you? come here, and let me see you, if you are a man'; but he +received in reply only a laugh of unearthly derision, which was +followed by a 'Good-bye--I'll watch you at dinner, John!' + +'Lord between us and harm! this beats all! I'll watch you at dinner! +maybe you will! 'tis the broad daylight, so 'tis no ghost; but this is +a terrible place, and this is the last day I'll stay in it. How does +he know about the spoons? if he tells it I'm a ruined man! there was +no living soul could tell it to him but Tim Barrett, and he's far +enough off in the wilds of Botany Bay now, so how could he know it? I +can't tell for the world! But what's that I see there at the corner of +the wall! 'tis not a man! oh, what a fool I am! 'tis only the old +stump of a tree! But this is a shocking place--I'll never stop in it, +for I'll leave the house to-morrow; the very look of it is enough to +frighten any one.' + +The mansion had certainly an air of desolation; it was situated in a +lawn, which had nothing to break its uniform level save a few tufts of +narcissuses and a couple of old trees coeval with the building. The +house stood at a short distance from the road, it was upwards of a +century old, and Time was doing his work upon it; its walls were +weather-stained in all colours, its roof showed various white patches, +it had no look of comfort; all was dim and dingy without, and within +there was an air of gloom, of departed and departing greatness, which +harmonised well with the exterior. It required all the exuberance of +youth and of gaiety to remove the impression, almost amounting to awe, +with which you trod the huge square hall, paced along the gallery +which surrounded the hall, or explored the long rambling passages +below stairs. The ballroom, as the large drawing-room was called, and +several other apartments, were in a state of decay; the walls were +stained with damp, and I remember well the sensation of awe which I +felt creeping over me when, boy as I was, and full of boyish life and +wild and ardent spirits, I descended to the vaults; all without and +within me became chilled beneath their dampness and gloom--their +extent, too, terrified me; nor could the merriment of my two +schoolfellows, whose father, a respectable clergyman, rented the +dwelling for a time, dispel the feelings of a romantic imagination +until I once again ascended to the upper regions. + +John had pretty well recovered himself as the dinner-hour approached, +and several guests arrived. They were all seated at the table, and had +begun to enjoy the excellent repast, when a voice was heard in the +lawn. + +'Ho, ho, ho! Mr. Pratt, won't you give poor Teigue some dinner? ho, +ho! a fine company you have there, and plenty of everything that's +good; sure you won't forget poor Teigue?' + +John dropped the glass he had in his hand. + +'Who is that?' said Mr. Pratt's brother, an officer of the artillery. + +'That is Teigue,' said Mr. Pratt, laughing, 'whom you must often have +heard me mention.' + +'And pray, Mr. Pratt,' inquired another gentleman, 'who _is_ Teigue?' + +'That,' he replied, 'is more than I can tell. No one has ever been +able to catch even a glimpse of him. I have been on the watch for a +whole evening with three of my sons, yet, although his voice sometimes +sounded almost in my ear, I could not see him. I fancied, indeed, that +I saw a man in a white frieze jacket pass into the door from the +garden to the lawn, but it could be only fancy, for I found the door +locked, while the fellow, whoever he is, was laughing at our trouble. +He visits us occasionally, and sometimes a long interval passes +between his visits, as in the present case; it is now nearly two years +since we heard that hollow voice outside the window. He has never done +any injury that we know of, and once when he broke a plate, he +brought one back exactly like it.' + +'It is very extraordinary,' exclaimed several of the company. + +'But,' remarked a gentleman to young Mr. Pratt, 'your father said he +broke a plate; how did he get it without your seeing him?' + +'When he asks for some dinner we put it outside the window and go +away; whilst we watch he will not take it, but no sooner have we +withdrawn than it is gone.' + +'How does he know that you are watching?' + +'That's more than I can tell, but he either knows or suspects. One day +my brothers Robert and James with myself were in our back parlour, +which has a window into the garden, when he came outside and said, +"Ho, ho, ho! Master James and Robert and Henry, give poor Teigue a +glass of whisky." James went out of the room, filled a glass with +whisky, vinegar, and salt, and brought it to him. "Here, Teigue," +said he, "come for it now."--"Well, put it down, then, on the step +outside the window." This was done, and we stood looking at it. +"There, now, go away," he shouted. We retired, but still watched it. +"Ho, ho! you are watching Teigue! go out of the room, now, or I won't +take it." We went outside the door and returned, the glass was gone, +and a moment after we heard him roaring and cursing frightfully. He +took away the glass, but the next day it was on the stone step under +the window, and there were crumbs of bread in the inside, as if he had +put it in his pocket; from that time he has not been heard till +to-day.' + +'Oh,' said the colonel, 'I'll get a sight of him; you are not used to +these things; an old soldier has the best chance, and as I shall +finish my dinner with this wing, I'll be ready for him when he speaks +next--Mr. Bell, will you take a glass of wine with me?' + +'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell,' shouted Teigue. 'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, you were a +Quaker long ago. Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, you're a pretty boy! a pretty +Quaker you were; and now you're no Quaker, nor anything else: ho, ho! +Mr. Bell. And there's Mr. Parkes: to be sure, Mr. Parkes looks mighty +fine to-day, with his powdered head, and his grand silk stockings and +his bran-new rakish-red waistcoat. And there's Mr. Cole: did you ever +see such a fellow? A pretty company you've brought together, Mr. +Pratt: kiln-dried Quakers, butter-buying buckeens from Mallow Lane, +and a drinking exciseman from the Coal Quay, to meet the great +thundering artillery general that is come out of the Indies, and is +the biggest dust of them all.' + +'You scoundrel!' exclaimed the colonel, 'I'll make you show yourself'; +and snatching up his sword from a corner of the room, he sprang out of +the window upon the lawn. In a moment a shout of laughter, so hollow, +so unlike any human sound, made him stop, as well as Mr. Bell, who +with a huge oak stick was close at the colonel's heels; others of the +party followed to the lawn, and the remainder rose and went to the +windows. 'Come on, colonel,' said Mr. Bell; 'let us catch this +impudent rascal.' + +'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, here I am--here's Teigue--why don't you catch him? +Ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, what a pretty soldier you are to draw your +sword upon poor Teigue, that never did anybody harm.' + +'Let us see your face, you scoundrel,' said the colonel. + +'Ho, ho, ho!--look at me--look at me: do you see the wind, Colonel +Pratt? you'll see Teigue as soon; so go in and finish your dinner.' + +'If you're upon the earth, I'll find you, you villain!' said the +colonel, whilst the same unearthly shout of derision seemed to come +from behind an angle of the building. 'He's round that corner,' said +Mr. Bell, 'run, run.' + +They followed the sound, which was continued at intervals along the +garden wall, but could discover no human being; at last both stopped +to draw breath, and in an instant, almost at their ears, sounded the +shout-- + +'Ho, ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, do you see Teigue now? do you hear him? +Ho, ho, ho! you're a fine colonel to follow the wind.' + +'Not that way, Mr. Bell--not that way; come here,' said the colonel. + +'Ho, ho, ho! what a fool you are; do you think Teigue is going to show +himself to you in the field, there? But, colonel, follow me if you +can: you a soldier! ho, ho, ho!' The colonel was enraged: he followed +the voice over hedge and ditch, alternately laughed at and taunted by +the unseen object of his pursuit (Mr. Bell, who was heavy, was soon +thrown out); until at length, after being led a weary chase, he found +himself at the top of the cliff, over that part of the river Lee, +which, from its great depth, and the blackness of its water, has +received the name of Hell-hole. Here, on the edge of the cliff, stood +the colonel out of breath, and mopping his forehead with his +handkerchief, while the voice, which seemed close at his feet, +exclaimed, 'Now, Colonel Pratt, now, if you're a soldier, here's a +leap for you! Now look at Teigue--why don't you look at him? Ho, ho, +ho! Come along; you're warm, I'm sure, Colonel Pratt, so come in and +cool yourself; Teigue is going to have a swim!' The voice seemed as if +descending amongst the trailing ivy and brushwood which clothes this +picturesque cliff nearly from top to bottom, yet it was impossible +that any human being could have found footing. 'Now, colonel, have you +courage to take the leap? Ho, ho, ho! what a pretty soldier you are. +Good-bye; I'll see you again in ten minutes above, at the house--look +at your watch, colonel: there's a dive for you'; and a heavy plunge +into the water was heard. The colonel stood still, but no sound +followed, and he walked slowly back to the house, not quite half a +mile from the Crag. + +'Well, did you see Teigue?' said his brother, whilst his nephews, +scarcely able to smother their laughter, stood by. + +'Give me some wine,' said the colonel. 'I never was led such a dance +in my life; the fellow carried me all round and round till he brought +me to the edge of the cliff, and then down he went into Hell-hole, +telling me he'd be here in ten minutes; 'tis more than that now, but +he's not come.' + +'Ho, ho, ho! colonel, isn't he here? Teigue never told a lie in his +life: but, Mr. Pratt, give me a drink and my dinner, and then +good-night to you all, for I'm tired; and that's the colonel's +doing.' A plate of food was ordered; it was placed by John, with fear +and trembling, on the lawn under the window. Every one kept on the +watch, and the plate remained undisturbed for some time. + +'Ah! Mr. Pratt, will you starve poor Teigue? Make every one go away +from the windows, and Master Henry out of the tree, and Master Richard +off the garden wall.' + +The eyes of the company were turned to the tree and the garden wall; +the two boys' attention was occupied in getting down; the visitors +were looking at them; and 'Ho, ho, ho!--good luck to you, Mr. Pratt! +'tis a good dinner, and there's the plate, ladies and gentlemen. +Good-bye to you, colonel!--good-bye, Mr. Bell! good-bye to you all!' +brought their attention back, when they saw the empty plate lying on +the grass; and Teigue's voice was heard no more for that evening. +Many visits were afterwards paid by Teigue; but never was he seen, nor +was any discovery ever made of his person or character. + + + + +THE FAIRY GREYHOUND + + +Paddy M'Dermid was one of the most rollicking boys in the whole county +of Kildare. Fair or pattern[3] wouldn't be held barring he was in the +midst of it. He was in every place, like bad luck, and his poor little +farm was seldom sowed in season; and where he expected barley, there +grew nothing but weeds. Money became scarce in poor Paddy's pocket; +and the cow went after the pig, until nearly all he had was gone. +Lucky however for him, if he had _gomch_ (sense) enough to mind it, he +had a most beautiful dream one night as he lay tossicated (drunk) in +the Rath[4] of Monogue, because he wasn't able to come home. He dreamt +that, under the place where he lay, a pot of money was buried since +long before the memory of man. Paddy kept the dream to himself until +the next night, when, taking a spade and pickaxe, with a bottle of +holy water, he went to the Rath, and, having made a circle round the +place, commenced diggin' sure enough, for the bare life and sowl of +him thinkin' that he was made up for ever and ever. He had sunk about +twice the depth of his knees, when _whack_ the pickaxe struck against +a flag, and at the same time Paddy heard something breathe quite near +him. He looked up, and just fornent him there sat on his haunches a +comely-looking greyhound. + +[Footnote 3: A merry-making in the honour of some patron saint.] + +[Footnote 4: Raths are little fields enclosed by circular ditches. +They are thought to be the sheep-folds and dwellings of an ancient +people.] + +[Illustration: "FORNENT HIM THERE SAT ON HIS HAUNCHES A COMELY-LOOKING +GREYHOUND." (_Page 71._)] + +'God save you,' said Paddy, every hair in his head standing up as +straight as a sally twig. + +'Save you kindly,' answered the greyhound--leaving out God, the beast, +bekase he was the divil. Christ defend us from ever seeing the likes +o' him. + +'Musha, Paddy M'Dermid,' said he, 'what would you be looking after in +that grave of a hole you're diggin' there?' + +'Faith, nothing at all, at all,' answered Paddy; bekase you see he +didn't like the stranger. + +'Arrah, be easy now, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the greyhound; 'don't I +know very well what you are looking for?' + +'Why then in truth, if you do, I may as well tell you at wonst, +particularly as you seem a civil-looking gentleman, that's not above +speaking to a poor gossoon like myself.' (Paddy wanted to butter him +up a bit.) + +'Well then,' said the greyhound, 'come out here and sit down on this +bank,' and Paddy, like a gomulagh (fool), did as he was desired, but +had hardly put his brogue outside of the circle made by the holy +water, when the beast of a hound set upon him, and drove him out of +the Rath; for Paddy was frightened, as well he might, at the fire that +flamed from his mouth. But next night he returned, full sure the money +was there. As before, he made a circle, and touched the flag, when my +gentleman, the greyhound, appeared in the ould place. + +'Oh ho,' said Paddy, 'you are there, are you? but it will be a long +day, I promise you, before you trick me again'; and he made another +stroke at the flag. + +'Well, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the hound, 'since you will have money, +you must; but say, how much will satisfy you?' + +Paddy scratched his conlaan, and after a while said-- + +'How much will your honour give me?' for he thought it better to be +civil. + +'Just as much as you consider reasonable, Paddy M'Dermid.' + +'Egad,' says Paddy to himself, 'there's nothing like axin' enough.' + +'Say fifty thousand pounds,' said he. (He might as well have said a +hundred thousand, for I'll be bail the beast had money gulloure.) + +'You shall have it,' said the hound; and then, after trotting away a +little bit, he came back with a crock full of guineas between his +paws. + +'Come here and reckon them,' said he; but Paddy was up to him, and +refused to stir, so the crock was shoved alongside the blessed and +holy circle, and Paddy pulled it in, right glad to have it in his +clutches, and never stood still until he reached his own home, where +his guineas turned into little bones, and his ould mother laughed at +him. Paddy now swore vengeance against the deceitful beast of a +greyhound, and went next night to the Rath again, where, as before, he +met Mr. Hound. + +'So you are here again, Paddy?' said he. + +'Yes, you big blaggard,' said Paddy, 'and I'll never leave this place +until I pull out the pot of money that's buried here.' + +'Oh, you won't,' said he. 'Well, Paddy M'Dermid, since I see you are +such a brave venturesome fellow I'll be after making you up if you +walk downstairs with me out of the could'; and sure enough it was +snowing like murder. + +'Oh may I never see Athy if I do,' returned Paddy, 'for you only want +to be loading me with ould bones, or perhaps breaking my own, which +would be just as bad.' + +''Pon honour,' said the hound, 'I am your friend; and so don't stand +in your own light; come with me and your fortune is made. Remain where +you are and you'll die a beggar-man.' So bedad, with one palaver and +another, Paddy consented; and in the middle of the Rath opened up a +beautiful staircase, down which they walked; and after winding and +turning they came to a house much finer than the Duke of Leinster's, +in which all the tables and chairs were solid gold. Paddy was +delighted; and after sitting down, a fine lady handed him a glass of +something to drink; but he had hardly swallowed a spoonful when all +around set up a horrid yell, and those who before appeared beautiful +now looked like what they were--enraged 'good people' (fairies). +Before Paddy could bless himself, they seized him, legs and arms, +carried him out to a great high hill that stood like a wall over a +river, and flung him down. 'Murder!' cried Paddy; but it was no use, +no use; he fell upon a rock, and lay there as dead until next morning, +where some people found him in the trench that surrounds the _mote_ of +Coulhall, the 'good people' having carried him there; and from that +hour to the day of his death he was the greatest object in the world. +He walked double, and had his mouth (God bless us) where his ear +should be. + + + + +THE LADY OF GOLLERUS + +BY CROFTON CROKER + + +On the shore of Smerwick harbour, one fine summer's morning, just at +daybreak, stood Dick Fitzgerald 'shoghing the dudeen,' which may be +translated, smoking his pipe. The sun was gradually rising behind the +lofty Brandon, the dark sea was getting green in the light, and the +mists clearing away out of the valleys went rolling and curling like +the smoke from the corner of Dick's mouth. + +''Tis just the pattern of a pretty morning,' said Dick, taking the +pipe from between his lips, and looking towards the distant ocean, +which lay as still and tranquil as a tomb of polished marble. 'Well, +to be sure,' continued he, after a pause, ''tis mighty lonesome to be +talking to one's self by way of company, and not to have another soul +to answer one--nothing but the child of one's own voice, the echo! I +know this, that if I had the luck, or may be the misfortune,' said +Dick, with a melancholy smile, 'to have the woman, it would not be +this way with me! and what in the wide world is a man without a wife? +He's no more surely than a bottle without a drop of drink in it, or +dancing without music, or the left leg of a scissors, or a +fishing-line without a hook, or any other matter that is no ways +complete. Is it not so?' said Dick Fitzgerald, casting his eyes +towards a rock upon the strand, which, though it could not speak, +stood up as firm and looked as bold as ever Kerry witness did. + +But what was his astonishment at beholding, just at the foot of that +rock, a beautiful young creature combing her hair, which was of a +sea-green colour; and now the salt water shining on it appeared, in +the morning light, like melted butter upon cabbage. + +Dick guessed at once that she was a Merrow,[5] although he had never +seen one before, for he spied the _cohuleen driuth_, or little +enchanted cap, which the sea people use for diving down into the +ocean, lying upon the strand near her; and he had heard that, if once +he could possess himself of the cap she would lose the power of going +away into the water: so he seized it with all speed, and she, hearing +the noise, turned her head about as natural as any Christian. + +[Footnote 5: Sea fairy.] + +When the Merrow saw that her little diving-cap was gone, the salt +tears--doubly salt, no doubt, from her--came trickling down her +cheeks, and she began a low mournful cry with just the tender voice +of a new-born infant. Dick, although he knew well enough what she was +crying for, determined to keep the _cohuleen driuth_, let her cry +never so much, to see what luck would come out of it. Yet he could not +help pitying her; and when the dumb thing looked up in his face, with +her cheeks all moist with tears, 'twas enough to make any one feel, +let alone Dick, who had ever and always, like most of his countrymen, +a mighty tender heart of his own. + +'Don't cry, my darling,' said Dick Fitzgerald; but the Merrow, like +any bold child, only cried the more for that. + +Dick sat himself down by her side, and took hold of her hand by way of +comforting her. 'Twas in no particular an ugly hand, only there was a +small web between the fingers, as there is in a duck's foot; but 'twas +as thin and as white as the skin between egg and shell. + +'What's your name, my darling?' says Dick, thinking to make her +conversant with him; but he got no answer; and he was certain sure +now, either that she could not speak, or did not understand him: he +therefore squeezed her hand in his, as the only way he had of talking +to her. It's the universal language; and there's not a woman in the +world, be she fish or lady, that does not understand it. + +The Merrow did not seem much displeased at this mode of conversation; +and making an end of her whining all at once, 'Man,' says she, looking +up in Dick Fitzgerald's face; 'man, will you eat me?' + +'By all the red petticoats and check aprons between Dingle and +Tralee,' cried Dick, jumping up in amazement, 'I'd as soon eat myself, +my jewel! Is it I eat you, my pet? Now, 'twas some ugly ill-looking +thief of a fish put that notion into your own pretty head, with the +nice green hair down upon it, that is so cleanly combed out this +morning!' + +'Man,' said the Merrow, 'what will you do with me if you won't eat +me?' + +Dick's thoughts were running on a wife: he saw, at the first glimpse, +that she was handsome; but since she spoke, and spoke too like any +real woman, he was fairly in love with her. 'Twas the neat way she +called him man that settled the matter entirely. + +'Fish,' says Dick, trying to speak to her after her own short fashion; +'fish,' says he, 'here's my word, fresh and fasting, for you this +blessed morning, that I'll make you Mistress Fitzgerald before all the +world, and that's what I'll do.' + +'Never say the word twice,' says she; 'I'm ready and willing to be +yours, Mister Fitzgerald; but stop, if you please, till I twist up my +hair.' It was some time before she had settled it entirely to her +liking; for she guessed, I suppose, that she was going among +strangers, where she would be looked at. When that was done, the +Merrow put the comb in her pocket, and then bent down her head and +whispered some words to the water that was close to the foot of the +rock. + +Dick saw the murmur of the words upon the top of the sea, going out +towards the wide ocean, just like a breath of wind rippling along, +and, says he, in the greatest wonder, 'Is it speaking you are, my +darling, to the salt water?' + +'It's nothing else,' says she, quite carelessly; 'I'm just sending +word home to my father not to be waiting breakfast for me; just to +keep him from being uneasy in his mind.' + +'And who's your father, my duck?' said Dick. + +'What!' said the Merrow, 'did you never hear of my father? he's the +king of the waves to be sure!' + +'And yourself, then, is a real king's daughter?' said Dick, opening +his two eyes to take a full and true survey of his wife that was to +be. 'Oh, I'm nothing else but a made man with you, and a king your +father; to be sure he has all the money that's down at the bottom of +the sea!' + +'Money,' repeated the Merrow, 'what's money?' + +''Tis no bad thing to have when one wants it,' replied Dick; 'and may +be now the fishes have the understanding to bring up whatever you bid +them?' + +'Oh yes,' said the Merrow, 'they bring me what I want.' + +'To speak the truth then,' said Dick, ''tis a straw bed I have at home +before you, and that, I'm thinking, is no ways fitting for a king's +daughter; so if 'twould not be displeasing to you, just to mention a +nice feather bed, with a pair of new blankets--but what am I talking +about? may be you have not such things as beds down under the water?' + +'By all means,' said she, 'Mr. Fitzgerald--plenty of beds at your +service. I've fourteen oyster-beds of my own, not to mention one just +planting for the rearing of young ones.' + +'You have?' says Dick, scratching his head and looking a little +puzzled. ''Tis a feather bed I was speaking of; but, clearly, yours is +the very cut of a decent plan to have bed and supper so handy to each +other, that a person when they'd have the one need never ask for the +other.' + +However, bed or no bed, money or no money, Dick Fitzgerald determined +to marry the Merrow, and the Merrow had given her consent. Away they +went, therefore, across the strand, from Gollerus to Ballinrunnig, +where Father Fitzgibbon happened to be that morning. + +'There are two words to this bargain, Dick Fitzgerald,' said his +Reverence, looking mighty glum. 'And is it a fishy woman you'd marry? +The Lord preserve us! Send the scaly creature home to her own people; +that's my advice to you, wherever she came from.' + +Dick had the _cohuleen driuth_ in his hand, and was about to give it +back to the Merrow, who looked covetously at it, but he thought for a +moment, and then says he, 'Please your Reverence, she's a king's +daughter.' + +'If she was the daughter of fifty kings,' said Father Fitzgibbon, 'I +tell you, you can't marry her, she being a fish.' + +'Please your Reverence,' said Dick again, in an undertone, 'she is as +mild and as beautiful as the moon.' + +'If she was as mild and as beautiful as the sun, moon, and stars, all +put together, I tell you, Dick Fitzgerald,' said the Priest, stamping +his right foot, 'you can't marry her, she being a fish.' + +'But she has all the gold that's down in the sea only for the asking, +and I'm a made man if I marry her; and,' said Dick, looking up slily, +'I can make it worth any one's while to do the job.' + +'Oh! that alters the case entirely,' replied the Priest; 'why there's +some reason now in what you say: why didn't you tell me this before? +marry her by all means, if she was ten times a fish. Money, you know, +is not to be refused in these bad times, and I may as well have the +hansel of it as another, that may be would not take half the pains in +counselling you that I have done.' + +So Father Fitzgibbon married Dick Fitzgerald to the Merrow, and like +any loving couple, they returned to Gollerus well pleased with each +other. Everything prospered with Dick--he was at the sunny side of the +world; the Merrow made the best of wives, and they lived together in +the greatest contentment. + +It was wonderful to see, considering where she had been brought up, +how she would busy herself about the house, and how well she nursed +the children; for, at the end of three years there were as many young +Fitzgeralds--two boys and a girl. + +In short, Dick was a happy man, and so he might have been to the end +of his days if he had only had the sense to take care of what he had +got; many another man, however, beside Dick, has not had wit enough to +do that. + +One day, when Dick was obliged to go to Tralee, he left the wife +minding the children at home after him, and thinking she had plenty to +do without disturbing his fishing-tackle. + +Dick was no sooner gone than Mrs. Fitzgerald set about cleaning up the +house, and chancing to pull down a fishing-net, what should she find +behind it in a hole in the wall but her own _cohuleen driuth_. She +took it out and looked at it, and then she thought of her father the +king, and her mother the queen, and her brothers and sisters, and she +felt a longing to go back to them. + +She sat down on a little stool and thought over the happy days she had +spent under the sea; then she looked at her children, and thought on +the love and affection of poor Dick, and how it would break his heart +to lose her. 'But,' says she, 'he won't lose me entirely, for I'll +come back to him again, and who can blame me for going to see my +father and my mother after being so long away from them?' + +She got up and went towards the door, but came back again to look once +more at the child that was sleeping in the cradle. She kissed it +gently, and as she kissed it a tear trembled for an instant in her eye +and then fell on its rosy cheek. She wiped away the tear, and turning +to the eldest little girl, told her to take good care of her brothers, +and to be a good child herself until she came back. The Merrow then +went down to the strand. The sea was lying calm and smooth, just +heaving and glittering in the sun, and she thought she heard a faint +sweet singing, inviting her to come down. All her old ideas and +feelings came flooding over her mind, Dick and her children were at +the instant forgotten, and placing the _cohuleen driuth_ on her head +she plunged in. + +Dick came home in the evening, and missing his wife he asked Kathleen, +his little girl, what had become of her mother, but she could not tell +him. He then inquired of the neighbours, and he learned that she was +seen going towards the strand with a strange-looking thing like a +cocked hat in her hand. He returned to his cabin to search for the +_cohuleen driuth_. It was gone, and the truth now flashed upon him. + +Year after year did Dick Fitzgerald wait expecting the return of his +wife, but he never saw her more. Dick never married again, always +thinking that the Merrow would sooner or later return to him, and +nothing could ever persuade him but that her father the king kept her +below by main force; 'for,' said Dick, 'she surely would not of +herself give up her husband and her children.' + +While she was with him she was so good a wife in every respect that to +this day she is spoken of in the tradition of the country as the +pattern for one, under the name of THE LADY OF GOLLERUS. + + + + +EVIL SPIRITS + + + + +THE DEVIL'S MILL + +BY SAMUEL LOVER + + +You see, sir, there was a colonel wanst, in times back, that owned a +power of land about here--but God keep uz, they said he didn't come by +it honestly, but did a crooked turn whenever 'twas to sarve himself. + +Well, the story goes that at last the divil (God bless us) kem to him, +and promised him hapes o' money, and all his heart could desire and +more, too, if he'd sell his sowl in exchange. + +He was too cunnin' for that; bad as he was--and he was bad enough God +knows--he had some regard for his poor sinful sowl, and he would not +give himself up to the divil, all out; but, the villain, he thought he +might make a bargain with the _old chap_, and get all he wanted, and +keep himself out of harm's way still: for he was mighty 'cute--and, +throth, he was able for Owld Nick any day. + +Well, the bargain was struck, and it was this-a-way: the divil was to +give him all the goold ever he'd ask for, and was to let him alone as +long as he could; and the timpter promised him a long day, and said +'twould be a great while before he'd want him at all, at all; and whin +that time kem, he was to keep his hands aff him, as long as the other +could give him some work he couldn't do. + +So, when the bargain was made, 'Now,' says the colonel to the divil, +'give me all the money I want.' + +'As much as you like,' says Owld Nick; 'how much will you have?' + +'You must fill me that room,' says he, pointin' into a murtherin' big +room that he emptied out on purpose--'you must fill that room,' says +he, 'up to the very ceilin' with goolden guineas.' + +'And welkem,' says the divil. + +With that, sir, he began to shovel the guineas into the room like mad; +and the colonel towld him, that as soon as he was done, to come to him +in his own parlour below, and that he would then go up and see if the +divil was as good as his word, and had filled the room with the +goolden guineas. So the colonel went downstairs, and the owld fellow +worked away as busy as a nailer, shovellin' in the guineas by +hundherds and thousands. + +Well, he worked away for an hour and more, and at last he began to get +tired; and he thought it _mighty odd_ that the room wasn't fillin' +fasther. Well, afther restin' for awhile, he began agin, and he put +his shouldher to the work in airnest; but still the room was no +fuller at all, at all. + +'Och! bad luck to me,' says the divil, 'but the likes of this I never +seen,' says he, 'far and near, up and down--the dickens a room I ever +kem across afore,' says he, 'I couldn't cram while a cook would be +crammin' a turkey, till now; and here I am,' says he, 'losin' my whole +day, and I with such a power o' work an my hands yit, and this room no +fuller than five minutes ago.' + +Begor, while he was spakin' he seen the hape o' guineas in the middle +of the flure growing _littler and littler_ every minit; and at last +they wor disappearing, for all the world like corn in the hopper of a +mill. + +'Ho! ho!' says Owld Nick, 'is that the way wid you?' says he; and wid +that, he ran over to the hape of goold--and what would you think, but +it was runnin' down through a great big hole in the flure, that the +colonel made through the ceilin' in the room below; and that was the +work he was at afther he left the divil, though he purtended he was +only waitin' for him in his parlour; and there the divil, when he +looked down the hole in the flure, seen the colonel, not content with +the _two_ rooms full of guineas, but with a big shovel throwin' them +into a closet a' one side of him as fast as they fell down. So, +putting his head through the hole, he called down to the colonel: + +'Hillo, neighbour!' says he. + +The colonel looked up, and grew as white as a sheet, when he seen he +was found out, and the red eyes starin' down at him through the hole. + +'Musha, bad luck to your impudence!' says Owld Nick: 'it is sthrivin' +to chate _me_ you are,' says he, 'you villain!' + +'Oh, forgive me for this wanst!' says the colonel, 'and, upon the +honour of a gintleman,' says he, 'I'll never----' + +'Whisht! whisht! you thievin' rogue,' says the divil, 'I'm not angry +with you at all, at all, but only like you the betther, bekase you're +so cute;--lave off slaving yourself there,' says he, 'you have got +goold enough for this time; and whenever you want more, you have only +to say the word, and it shall be yours to command.' + +So with that, the divil and he parted for that time: and myself +doesn't know whether they used to meet often afther or not; but the +colonel never wanted money, anyhow, but went on prosperous in the +world--and, as the saying is, if he took the dirt out o' the road, it +id turn to money wid him; and so, in course of time, he bought great +estates, and was a great man entirely--not a greater in Ireland, +throth. + +At last, afther many years of prosperity, the owld colonel got +stricken in years, and he began to have misgivings in his conscience +for his wicked doings, and his heart was heavy as the fear of death +came upon him; and sure enough, while he had such murnful thoughts, +the divil kem to him, and towld him _he should go wid him_. + +Well, to be sure, the owld man was frekened, but he plucked up his +courage and his cuteness, and towld the divil, in a bantherin' way, +jokin' like, that he had partic'lar business thin, that he was goin' +to a party, and hoped an _owld friend_ wouldn't inconvaynience him +that-a-way. + +The divil said he'd call the next day, and that he must be ready; and +sure enough in the evenin' he kem to him; and when the colonel seen +him, he reminded him of his bargain that as long as he could give him +some work he couldn't do, he wasn't obleeged to go. + +'That's thrue,' says the divil. + +'I'm glad you're as good as your word, anyhow,' says the colonel. + +'I never bruk my word yit,' says the owld chap, cocking up his horns +consaitedly; 'honour bright,' says he. + +'Well then,' says the colonel, 'build me a mill, down there, by the +river,' says he, 'and let me have it finished by to-morrow mornin'.' + +'Your will is my pleasure,' says the owld chap, and away he wint; and +the colonel thought he had nicked Owld Nick at last, and wint to bed +quite aisy in his mind. + +But, _jewel machree_, sure the first thing he heerd the next mornin' +was that the whole counthry round was runnin' to see a fine bran new +mill that was an the river-side, where the evening before not a thing +at all, at all, but rushes was standin', and all, of coorse, wonderin' +what brought it there; and some sayin' 'twas not lucky, and many more +throubled in their mind, but one and all agreein' it was no _good_; +and that's the very mill forninst you. + +But when the colonel heered it he was more throubled than any, of +coorse, and began to conthrive what else he could think iv to keep +himself out iv the claws of the _owld one_. Well, he often heerd tell +that there was one thing the divil never could do, and I darsay you +heerd it too, sir,--that is, that he couldn't make a rope out of the +sands of the say; and so when the _owld one_ kem to him the next day +and said his job was done, and that now the mill was built he must +either tell him somethin' else he wanted done, or come away wid him. + +So the colonel said he saw it was all over wid him. 'But,' says he, 'I +wouldn't like to go wid you alive, and sure it's all the same to you, +alive or dead?' + +'Oh, that won't do,' says his frind; 'I can't wait no more,' says he. + +'I don't want you to wait, my dear frind,' says the colonel; 'all I +want is, that you'll be plased to kill me before you take me away.' + +'With pleasure,' says Owld Nick. + +'But will you promise me my choice of dyin' one partic'lar way?' says +the colonel. + +'Half a dozen ways, if it plazes you,' says he. + +'You're mighty obleegin',' says the colonel; 'and so,' says he, 'I'd +rather die by bein' hanged with a rope _made out of the sands of the +say_,' says he, lookin' mighty knowin' at the _owld fellow_. + +'I've always one about me,' says the divil, 'to obleege my frinds,' +says he; and with that he pulls out a rope made of sand, sure enough. + +'Oh, it's game you're makin',' says the colonel, growin' as white as a +sheet. + +'The _game is mine_, sure enough,' says the owld fellow, grinnin', +with a terrible laugh. + +'That's not a sand-rope at all,' says the colonel. + +'Isn't it?' says the divil, hittin' him acrass the face with the ind +iv the rope, and the sand (for it _was_ made of sand, sure enough) +went into one of his eyes, and made the tears come with the pain. + +'That bates all I ever seen or heerd,' says the colonel, sthrivin' to +rally and make another offer; 'is there anything you _can't_ do?' + +'Nothing you can tell me,' says the divil, 'so you may as well leave +off your palaverin' and come along at wanst.' + +'Will you give me one more offer,' says the colonel. + +'You don't desarve it,' says the divil; 'but I don't care if I do'; +for you see, sir, he was only playin' wid him, and tantalising the +owld sinner. + +'All fair,' says the colonel, and with that he ax'd him could he stop +a woman's tongue. + +'Thry me,' says Owld Nick. + +'Well then,' says the colonel, 'make my lady's tongue be quiet for the +next month and I'd thank you.' + +'She'll never trouble you agin,' says Owld Nick; and with that the +colonel heerd roarin' and cryin', and the door of his room was thrown +open and in ran his daughter, and fell down at his feet, telling him +her mother had just dhropped dead. + +The minit the door opened, the divil runs and hides himself behind a +big elbow-chair; and the colonel was frekened almost out of his siven +sinses by raison of the sudden death of his poor lady, let alone the +jeopardy he was in himself, seein' how the divil had _forestalled_ him +every way; and after ringin' his bell and callin' to his sarvants and +recoverin' his daughter out of her faint, he was goin' away wid her +out of the room, whin the divil caught howld of him by the skirt of +the coat, and the colonel was obleeged to let his daughter be carried +out by the sarvants, and shut the door afther them. + +'Well,' says the divil, and he grinn'd and wagg'd his tail, all as one +as a dog when he's plaised; 'what do you say now?' says he. + +'Oh,' says the colonel, 'only lave me alone until I bury my poor +wife,' says he, 'and I'll go with you then, you villain,' says he. + +'Don't call names,' says the divil; 'you had better keep a civil +tongue in your head,' says he; 'and it doesn't become a gintleman to +forget good manners.' + +'Well, sir, to make a long story short, the divil purtended to let him +off, out of kindness, for three days antil his wife was buried; but +the raison of it was this, that when the lady his daughter fainted, he +loosened the clothes about her throat, and in pulling some of her +dhress away, he tuk off a goold chain that was on her neck and put it +in his pocket, and the chain had a diamond crass on it (the Lord be +praised!) and the divil darn't touch him while he had _the sign of the +crass_ about him. + +Well, the poor colonel (God forgive him!) was grieved for the loss of +his lady, and she had an _illigant berrin_--and they say that when the +prayers was readin' over the dead, the owld colonel took it to heart +like anything, and the word o' God kem home to his poor sinful sowl at +last. + +Well, sir, to make a long story short, the ind of it was, that for the +three days o' grace that was given to him the poor deluded owld sinner +did nothin' at all but read the Bible from mornin' till night, and bit +or sup didn't pass his lips all the time, he was so intint upon the +Holy Book, but he sat up in an owld room in the far ind of the house, +and bid no one disturb him an no account, and struv to make his heart +bould with the words iv life; and sure it was somethin' strinthened +him at last, though as the time drew nigh that the _inimy_ was to +come, he didn't feel aisy, and no wondher; and, bedad the three days +was past and gone in no time, and the story goes that at the dead hour +o' the night, when the poor sinner was readin' away as fast as he +could, my jew'l, his heart jumped up to his mouth at gettin' a tap on +the shoulder. + +'Oh, murther!' says he, 'who's there?' for he was afeard to look up. + +'It's me,' says the _owld one_, and he stood right forninst him, and +his eyes like coals o' fire, lookin' him through, and he said, with a +voice that almost split his owld heart, 'Come!' says he. + +'Another day!' cried out the poor colonel. + +'Not another hour,' says Sat'n. + +'Half an hour!' + +'Not a quarther,' says the divil, grinnin' with a bitther laugh; +'give over your reading I bid you,' says he, 'and come away wid me.' + +'Only gi' me a few minits,' says he. + +'Lave aff your palaverin' you snakin' owld sinner,' says Sat'n; 'you +know you're bought and sould to me, and a purty bargain I have o' you, +you owld baste,' says he; 'so come along at wanst,' and he put out his +claw to ketch him; but the colonel tuk a fast hould o' the Bible, and +begged hard that he'd let him alone, and wouldn't harm him antil the +bit o' candle that was just blinkin' in the socket before him was +burned out. + +'Well, have it so, you dirty coward,' says Owld Nick, and with that he +spit an him. + +But the poor owld colonel didn't lose a minit (for he was cunnin' to +the ind), but snatched the little taste o' candle that was forninst +him out o' the candlestick, and puttin' it an the Holy Book before +him, he shut down the cover of it and quinched the light. With that +the divil gave a roar like a bull, and vanished in a flash o' fire, +and the poor colonel fainted away in his chair; but the sarvants heerd +the noise (for the divil tore aff the roof o' the house when he left +it), and run into the room, and brought their master to himself agin. +And from that day he was an althered man, and used to have the Bible +read to him every day, for he couldn't read himself any more, by +raison of losin' his eyesight when the divil hit him with the rope of +sand in the face, and afther spit an him--for the sand wint into one +eye, and he lost the other that-a-way, savin' your presence. + + + + +FERGUS O'MARA AND THE AIR-DEMONS + +BY DR. P. W. JOYCE + + +Of all the different kinds of goblins that haunted the lonely places +of Ireland in days of old, air-demons were most dreaded by the people. +They lived among clouds, and mists, and rocks, and they hated the +human race with the utmost malignity. In those times lived in the +north of Desmond (the present county of Cork) a man man named Fergus +O'Mara. His farm lay on the southern slope of the Ballyhoura +Mountains, along which ran the open road that led to his house. This +road was not shut in by walls or fences; but on both sides there were +scattered trees and bushes that sheltered it in winter, and made it +dark and gloomy when you approached the house at night. Beside the +road, a little way off from the house, there was a spot that had an +evil name all over the country, a little hill covered closely with +copsewood, with a great craggy rock on top, from which, on stormy +nights, strange and fearful sounds had often been heard--shrill +voices, and screams, mingled with loud fiendish laughter; and the +people believed that it was the haunt of air-demons. In some way it +had become known that these demons had an eye on Fergus, and watched +for every opportunity to get him into their power. He had himself been +warned of this many years before, by an old monk from the neighbouring +monastery of Buttevant, who told him, moreover, that so long as he +led a blameless, upright life, he need have no fear of the demons; but +that if ever he yielded to temptation or fell into any great sin, then +would come the opportunity for which they were watching day and night. +He never forgot this warning, and he was very careful to keep himself +straight, both because he was naturally a good man, and for fear of +the air-demons. + +Some time before the occurrence about to be related, one of Fergus's +children, a sweet little girl about seven years of age, fell ill and +died. The little thing gradually wasted away, but suffered no pain; +and as she grew weaker she became more loving and gentle than ever, +and talked in a wonderful way, quite beyond her years, of the bright +land she was going to. One thing she was particularly anxious about, +that when she was dying they should let her hold a blessed candle in +her hand. They thought it very strange that she should be so +continually thinking and talking of this; and over and over again she +made her father and mother promise that it should be done. And with +the blessed candle in her hand she died so calmly and sweetly that +those round her bed could not tell the exact moment. + +About a year after this, on a bright Sunday morning in October, Fergus +set out for Mass. The place was about three miles away, and it was not +a chapel,[6] but a lonely old fort, called to this day Lissanaffrin, +the fort of the Mass. A rude stone altar stood at one side near the +mound of the fort, under a little shed that sheltered the priest also; +and the congregation worshipped in the open air on the green plot in +the centre. For in those days there were many places that had no +chapels; and the people flocked to these open-air Masses as +faithfully as we do now to our stately comfortable chapels. The family +had gone on before, the men walking and the women and children riding; +and Fergus set out to walk alone. + +[Footnote 6: A fort is the same as a rath (see p. 70); a few are +fenced in with unmortared stone walls instead of clay ditches.] + +Just as he approached the Demons' Rock he was greatly surprised to +hear the eager yelping of dogs, and in a moment a great deer bounded +from the covert beside the rock, with three hounds after her in full +chase. No man in the whole country round loved a good chase better +than Fergus, or had a swifter foot to follow, and without a moment's +hesitation he started in pursuit. But in a few minutes he stopped up +short; for he bethought him of the Mass, and he knew there was little +time for delay. While he stood wavering, the deer seemed to slacken +her pace, and the hounds gained on her, and in a moment Fergus dashed +off at full speed, forgetting Mass and everything else in his +eagerness for the sport. But it turned out a long and weary chase. +Sometimes they slackened, and he was almost at the hounds' tails, but +the next moment both deer and hounds started forward and left him far +behind. Sometimes they were in full view, and again they were out of +sight in thickets and deep glens, so that he could guide himself only +by the cry of the hounds. In this way he was decoyed across hills and +glens, but instead of gaining ground he found himself rather falling +behind. + +Mass was all over and the people dispersed to their homes, and all +wondered that they did not see Fergus; for no one could remember that +he was ever absent before. His wife returned, expecting to find him at +home; but when she arrived there was trouble in her heart, for there +were no tidings of him, and no one had seen him since he had set out +for Mass in the morning. + +Meantime Fergus followed up the chase till he was wearied out; and at +last, just on the edge of a wild moor, both deer and hounds +disappeared behind a shoulder of rock, and he lost them altogether. At +the same moment the cry of the hounds became changed to frightful +shrieks and laughter, such as he had heard more than once from the +Demons' Rock. And now, sitting down on a bank to rest, he had full +time to reflect on what he had done, and he was overwhelmed with +remorse and shame. Moreover, his heart sank within him, thinking of +the last sounds he had heard; for he believed that he had been allured +from Mass by the cunning wiles of the demons, and he feared that the +dangerous time had come foretold by the monk. He started up and set +out for his home, hoping to reach it before night. But before he had +got half-way night fell and a storm came on, great wind and rain and +bursts of thunder and lightning. Fergus was strong and active, +however, and knew every turn of the mountain, and he made his way +through the storm till he approached the Demons' Rock. + +Suddenly there burst on his ears the very same sounds that he had +heard on losing sight of the chase--shouts and shrieks and laughter. A +great black ragged cloud, whirling round and round with furious gusts +of wind, burst from the rock and came sweeping and tearing towards +him. Crossing himself in terror and uttering a short prayer, he rushed +for home. But the whirlwind swept nearer, till at last, in a sort of +dim, shadowy light, he saw the black cloud full of frightful faces, +all glaring straight at him and coming closer and closer. At this +moment a bright light dropped down from the sky and rested in front of +the cloud; and when he looked up, he saw his little child floating in +the air between him and the demons, holding a lighted candle in her +hand. And although the storm was raging and roaring all round, she +was quite calm--not a breath of air stirred her long yellow hair--and +the candle burned quietly. Even in the midst of all his terror he +could observe her pale gentle face and blue eyes just as when she was +alive, not showing traces of sickness or sadness now, but lighted up +with joy. The demons seemed to start back from the light, and with +great uproar rushed round to the other side of Fergus, the black cloud +still moving with them and wrapping them up in its ragged folds; but +the little angel floated softly round, still keeping between them and +her father. Fergus ran on for home, and the cloud of demons still kept +furiously whirling round and round him, bringing with them a whirlwind +that roared among the trees and bushes and tore them from the roots; +but still the child, always holding the candle towards them, kept +floating calmly round and shielded him. + +At length he arrived at his house; the door lay half-open, for the +family were inside expecting him home, listening with wonder and +affright to the approaching noises; and he bounded in through the +doorway and fell flat on his face. That instant the door--though no +one was near--was shut violently, and the bolts were shot home. They +hurried anxiously round him to lift him up, but found him in a +death-like swoon. Meantime the uproar outside became greater than +ever; round and round the house it tore, a roaring whirlwind with +shouts and yells of rage, and great trampling, as if there was a whole +company of horsemen. At length, however, the noises seemed to move +away farther and farther off from the house, and gradually died away +in the distance. At the same time the storm ceased, and the night +became calm and beautiful. + +The daylight was shining in through the windows when Fergus recovered +from his swoon, and then he told his fearful story; but many days +passed over before he had quite recovered from the horrors of that +night. When the family came forth in the morning there was fearful +waste all round and near the house, trees and bushes torn from the +roots, and the ground all trampled and torn up. After this the revelry +of the demons was never again heard from the rock; and it was believed +that they had left it and betaken themselves to some other haunt. + + + + +THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW FEAR + +TRANSLATED FROM THE GAELIC BY DOUGLAS HYDE + + +There was once a lady, and she had two sons whose names were Louras +(Lawrence) and Carrol. From the day that Lawrence was born nothing +ever made him afraid, but Carrol would never go outside the door from +the time the darkness of the night began. + +It was the custom at that time when a person died for people to watch +the dead person's grave in turn, one after another; for there used to +be destroyers going about stealing the corpses. + +When the mother of Carrol and Lawrence died, Carrol said to Lawrence-- + +'You say that nothing ever made you afraid yet, but I'll make a bet +with you that you haven't courage to watch your mother's tomb +to-night.' + +'I'll make a bet with you that I have,' said Lawrence. + +When the darkness of the night was coming, Lawrence put on his sword +and went to the burying-ground. He sat down on a tombstone near his +mother's grave till it was far in the night and sleep was coming upon +him. Then he saw a big black thing coming to him, and when it came +near him he saw that it was a head without a body that was in it. He +drew the sword to give it a blow if it should come any nearer, but it +didn't come. Lawrence remained looking at it until the light of the +day was coming, then the head-without-body went, and Lawrence came +home. + +Carrol asked him, did he see anything in the graveyard. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and my mother's body would be gone, but that +I was guarding it.' + +'Was it dead or alive, the person you saw?' said Carrol. + +'I don't know was it dead or alive,' said Lawrence; 'there was nothing +in it but a head without a body.' + +'Weren't you afraid?' says Carrol. + +'Indeed I wasn't,' said Lawrence; 'don't you know that nothing in the +world ever put fear on me.' + +'I'll bet again with you that you haven't the courage to watch +to-night again,' says Carrol. + +'I would make that bet with you,' said Lawrence, 'but that there is a +night's sleep wanting to me. Go yourself to-night.' + +'I wouldn't go to the graveyard to-night if I were to get the riches +of the world,' says Carrol. + +'Unless you go your mother's body will be gone in the morning,' says +Lawrence. + +'If only you watch to-night and to-morrow night, I never will ask of +you to do a turn of work as long as you will be alive,' said Carrol, +'but I think there is fear on you.' + +'To show you that there's no fear on me,' said Lawrence, 'I will +watch.' + +He went to sleep, and when the evening came he rose up, put on his +sword, and went to the graveyard. He sat on a tombstone near his +mother's grave. About the middle of the night he heard a great sound +coming. A big black thing came as far as the grave and began rooting +up the clay. Lawrence drew back his sword, and with one blow he made +two halves of the big black thing, and with the second blow he made +two halves of each half, and he saw it no more. + +Lawrence went home in the morning, and Carrol asked him did he see +anything. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and only that I was there my mother's body +would be gone.' + +'Is it the head-without-body that came again?' said Carrol. + +'It was not, but a big black thing, and it was digging up my mother's +grave until I made two halves of it.' + +Lawrence slept that day, and when the evening came he rose up, put on +his sword, and went to the churchyard. He sat down on a tombstone +until it was the middle of the night. Then he saw a thing as white as +snow and as hateful as sin; it had a man's head on it, and teeth as +long as a flax-carder. Lawrence drew back the sword and was going to +deal it a blow, when it said-- + +'Hold your hand; you have saved your mother's body, and there is not a +man in Ireland as brave as you. There is great riches waiting for you +if you go looking for it.' + +Lawrence went home, and Carrol asked him did he see anything. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and but that I was there my mother's body +would be gone, but there's no fear of it now.' + +In the morning, the day on the morrow, Lawrence said to Carrol-- + +'Give me my share of money, and I'll go on a journey, until I have a +look round the country.' + +Carrol gave him the money, and he went walking. He went on until he +came to a large town. He went into the house of a baker to get bread. +The baker began talking to him, and asked him how far he was going. + +'I am going looking for something that will put fear on me,' said +Lawrence. + +'Have you much money?' said the baker. + +'I have a half-hundred pounds,' said Lawrence. + +'I'll bet another half-hundred with you that there will be fear on you +if you go to the place that I'll bid you,' says the baker. + +'I'll take your bet,' said Lawrence, 'if only the place is not too far +away from me.' + +'It's not a mile from the place where you're standing,' said the +baker; 'wait here till the night comes, and then go to the graveyard, +and as a sign that you were in it, bring me the goblet that is upon +the altar of the old church (_cill_) that is in the graveyard.' + +When the baker made the bet he was certain that he would win, for +there was a ghost in the churchyard, and nobody went into it for forty +years before that whom he did not kill. + +When the darkness of the night came, Lawrence put on his sword and +went to the burying-ground. He came to the door of the churchyard and +struck it with his sword. The door opened, and there came out a great +black ram, and two horns on him as long as flails. Lawrence gave him a +blow, and he went out of sight, leaving him up to the two ankles in +blood. Lawrence went into the old church, got the goblet, came back to +the baker's house, gave him the goblet, and got the bet. Then the +baker asked him did he see anything in the churchyard. + +'I saw a big black ram with long horns on him,' said Lawrence, 'and I +gave him a blow which drew as much blood out of him as would swim a +boat; sure he must be dead by this time.' + +In the morning, the day on the morrow, the baker and a lot of people +went to the graveyard and they saw the blood of the black ram at the +door. They went to the priest and told him that the black ram was +banished out of the churchyard. The priest did not believe them, +because the churchyard was shut up forty years before that on account +of the ghost that was in it, and neither priest nor friar could banish +him. The priest came with them to the door of the churchyard, and when +he saw the blood he took courage and sent for Lawrence, and heard the +story from his own mouth. Then he sent for his blessing-materials, and +desired the people to come in till he read mass for them. The priest +went in, and Lawrence and the people after him, and he read mass +without the big black ram coming as he used to do. The priest was +greatly rejoiced, and gave Lawrence another fifty pounds. + +On the morning of the next day Lawrence went on his way. He travelled +the whole day without seeing a house. About the hour of midnight he +came to a great lonely valley, and he saw a large gathering of people +looking at two men hurling. Lawrence stood looking at them, as there +was a bright light from the moon. It was the good people that were in +it, and it was not long until one of them struck a blow on the ball +and sent it into Lawrence's breast. He put his hand in after the ball +to draw it out, and what was there in it but the head of a man. When +Lawrence got a hold of it, it began screeching, and at last it asked +Lawrence-- + +'Are you not afraid?' + +'Indeed I am not,' said Lawrence, and no sooner was the word spoken +than both head and people disappeared, and he was left in the glen +alone by himself. + +He journeyed until he came to another town, and when he ate and drank +enough, he went out on the road, and was walking until he came to a +great house on the side of the road. As the night was closing in, he +went in to try if he could get lodging. There was a young man at the +door who said to him-- + +'How far are you going, or what are you in search of?' + +'I do not know how far I am going, but I am in search of something +that will put fear on me,' said Lawrence. + +'You have not far to go, then,' said the young man; 'if you stop in +that big house on the other side of the road there will be fear put on +you before morning, and I'll give you twenty pounds into the bargain.' + +'I'll stop in it,' said Lawrence. + +The young man went with him, opened the door, and brought him into a +large room in the bottom of the house, and said to him, 'Put down fire +for yourself and I'll send you plenty to eat and drink.' He put down a +fire for himself, and there came a girl to him and brought him +everything that he wanted. + +He went on very well, until the hour of midnight came, and then he +heard a great sound over his head, and it was not long until a +stallion and a bull came in and commenced to fight. Lawrence never put +to them nor from them, and when they were tired fighting they went +out. Lawrence went to sleep, and he never awoke until the young man +came in in the morning, and he was surprised when he saw Lawrence +alive. He asked him had he seen anything. + +'I saw a stallion and a bull fighting hard for about two hours,' said +Lawrence. + +'And weren't you afraid?' said the young man. + +'I was not,' says Lawrence. + +'If you wait to-night again, I'll give you another twenty pounds,' +says the young man. + +'I'll wait, and welcome,' says Lawrence. + +The second night, about ten o'clock, Lawrence was going to sleep, when +two black rams came in and began fighting hard. Lawrence neither put +to them nor from them, and when twelve o'clock struck they went out. +The young man came in the morning and asked him did he see anything +last night. + +'I saw two black rams fighting,' said Lawrence. + +'Were you afraid at all?' said the young man. + +'I was not,' said Lawrence. + +'Wait to-night, and I'll give you another twenty pounds,' says the +young man. + +'All right,' says Lawrence. + +The third night he was falling asleep, when there came in a gray old +man and said to him-- + +'You are the best hero in Ireland; I died twenty years ago, and all +that time I have been in search of a man like you. Come with me now +till I show you your riches; I told you when you were watching your +mother's grave that there was great riches waiting for you.' + +He took Lawrence to a chamber under ground, and showed him a large pot +filled with gold, and said to him-- + +'You will have all that if you give twenty pounds to Mary Kerrigan the +widow, and get her forgiveness for me for a wrong I did her. Then buy +this house, marry my daughter, and you will be happy and rich as long +as you live.' + +The next morning the young man came to Lawrence and asked him did he +see anything last night. + +'I did,' said Lawrence, 'and it's certain that there will be a ghost +always in it, but nothing in the world would frighten me; I'll buy the +house and the land round it, if you like.' + +'I'll ask no price for the house, but I won't part with the land under +a thousand pounds, and I'm sure you haven't that much.' + +'I have more than would buy all the land and all the herds you have,' +said Lawrence. + +When the young man heard that Lawrence was so rich, he invited him to +come to dinner. Lawrence went with him, and when the dead man's +daughter saw him she fell in love with him. + +Lawrence went to the house of Mary Kerrigan and gave her twenty +pounds, and got her forgiveness for the dead man. Then he married the +young man's sister and spent a happy life. He died as he lived, +without there being fear on him. + + + + +CATS + + + + +SEANCHAN THE BARD AND THE KING OF THE CATS + +BY LADY WILDE + + +When Seanchan, the renowned Bard, was made _Ard-File_ or Chief Poet of +Ireland, Guaire, the king of Connaught, to do him honour, made a great +feast for him and the whole Bardic Association. And all the professors +and learned men went to the king's house, the great ollaves of poetry +and history and music, and of the arts and sciences; and the learned, +aged females, Grug and Grag and Grangait; and all the chief poets and +poetesses of Ireland, an amazing number. But Guaire the king +entertained them all splendidly, so that the ancient pathway to his +palace is still called 'The Road of the Dishes.' + +And each day he asked, 'How fares it with my noble guests?' But they +were all discontented, and wanted things he could not get for them. So +he was very sorrowful, and prayed to God to be delivered from 'the +learned men and women, a vexatious class.' + +Still the feast went on for three days and three nights. And they +drank and made merry. And the whole Bardic Association entertained the +nobles with the choicest music and professional accomplishments. + +But Seanchan sulked and would neither eat nor drink, for he was +jealous of the nobles of Connaught. And when he saw how much they +consumed of the best meats and wine, he declared he would taste no +food till they and their servants were all sent away out of the +house. + +And when Guaire asked him again, 'How fares my noble guest, and this +great and excellent people?' Seanchan answered, 'I have never had +worse days, nor worse nights, nor worse dinners in my life.' And he +ate nothing for three whole days. + +Then the king was sorely grieved that the whole Bardic Association +should be feasting and drinking while Seanchan, the chief poet of +Erin, was fasting and weak. So he sent his favourite serving-man, a +person of mild manners and cleanliness, to offer special dishes to the +bard. + +'Take them away,' said Seanchan; 'I'll have none of them.' + +'And why, O Royal Bard?' asked the servitor. + +'Because thou art an uncomely youth,' answered Seanchan. 'Thy +grandfather was chip-nailed--I have seen him; I shall eat no food from +thy hands.' + +Then the king called a beautiful maiden to him, his foster-daughter, +and said, 'Lady, bring thou this wheaten cake and this dish of salmon +to the illustrious poet, and serve him thyself.' So the maiden went. + +But when Seanchan saw her he asked: 'Who sent thee hither, and why +hast thou brought me food?' + +'My lord the king sent me, O Royal Bard,' she answered, 'because I am +comely to look upon, and he bade me serve thee with food myself.' + +'Take it away,' said Seanchan, 'thou art an unseemly girl, I know of +none more ugly. I have seen thy grandmother; she sat on a wall one day +and pointed out the way with her hand to some travelling lepers. How +could I touch thy food?' So the maiden went away in sorrow. + +And then Guaire the king was indeed angry, and he exclaimed, 'My +malediction on the mouth that uttered that! May the kiss of a leper +be on Seanchan's lips before he dies!' + +Now there was a young serving-girl there, and she said to Seanchan, +'There is a hen's egg in the place, my lord, may I bring it to thee, O +Chief Bard?' + +'It will suffice,' said Seanchan; 'bring it that I may eat.' + +But when she went to look for it, behold the egg was gone. + +'Thou hast eaten it,' said the bard, in wrath. + +'Not so, my lord,' she answered; 'but the mice, the nimble race, have +carried it away.' + +'Then I will satirise them in a poem,' said Seanchan; and forthwith he +chanted so bitter a satire against them that ten mice fell dead at +once in his presence. + +''Tis well,' said Seanchan; 'but the cat is the one most to blame, for +it was her duty to suppress the mice. Therefore I shall satirise the +tribe of the cats, and their chief lord, Irusan, son of Arusan; for I +know where he lives with his wife Spit-fire, and his daughter +Sharp-tooth, with her brothers the Purrer and the Growler. But I shall +begin with Irusan himself, for he is king, and answerable for all the +cats.' + +And he said: 'Irusan, monster of claws, who strikes at the mouse but +lets it go; weakest of cats. The otter did well who bit off the tips +of thy progenitor's ears, so that every cat since is jagged-eared. Let +thy tail hang down; it is right, for the mouse jeers at thee.' + +Now Irusan heard these words in his cave, and he said to his daughter +Sharp-tooth: 'Seanchan has satirised me, but I will be avenged.' + +'Nay, father,' she said, 'bring him here alive that we may all take +our revenge.' + +'I shall go then and bring him,' said Irusan; 'so send thy brothers +after me. + +Now when it was told to Seanchan that the King of the Cats was on his +way to come and kill him, he was timorous, and besought Guaire and all +the nobles to stand by and protect him. And before long a vibrating, +impressive, impetuous sound was heard, like a raging tempest of fire +in full blaze. And when the cat appeared he seemed to them of the size +of a bullock; and this was his appearance--rapacious, panting, +jagged-eared, snub-nosed, sharp-toothed, nimble, angry, vindictive, +glare-eyed, terrible, sharp-clawed. Such was his similitude. But he +passed on amongst them, not minding till he came to Seanchan; and him +he seized by the arm and jerked him up on his back, and made off the +way he came before any one could touch him; for he had no other object +in view but to get hold of the poet. + +Now Seanchan, being in evil plight, had recourse to flattery. 'O +Irusan,' he exclaimed, 'how truly splendid thou art: such running, +such leaps, such strength, and such agility! But what evil have I +done, O Irusan, son of Arusan? spare me, I entreat. I invoke the +saints between thee and me, O great King of the Cats.' + +But not a bit did the cat let go his hold for all this fine talk, but +went straight on to Clonmacnoise, where there was a forge; and St. +Kieran happened to be there standing at the door. + +'What!' exclaimed the saint; 'is that the Chief Bard of Erin on the +back of a cat? Has Guaire's hospitality ended in this?' And he ran for +a red-hot bar of iron that was in the furnace, and struck the cat on +the side with it, so that the iron passed through him, and he fell +down lifeless. + +'Now my curse on the hand that gave that blow!' said the bard, when he +got upon his feet. + +'And wherefore?' asked St. Kieran. + +'Because,' answered Seanchan, 'I would rather Irusan had killed me, +and eaten me every bit, that so I might bring disgrace on Guaire for +the bad food he gave me; for it was all owing to his wretched dinners +that I got into this plight.' + +And when all the other kings heard of Seanchan's misfortunes, they +sent to beg he would visit their courts. But he would have neither +kiss nor welcome from them, and went on his way to the bardic mansion, +where the best of good living was always to be had. And ever after the +kings were afraid to offend Seanchan. + +So as long as he lived he had the chief place at the feast, and all +the nobles there were made to sit below him, and Seanchan was content. +And in time he and Guaire were reconciled; and Seanchan and all the +ollaves, and the whole Bardic Association, were feasted by the king +for thirty days in noble style, and had the choicest of viands and +the best of French wines to drink, served in goblets of silver. And in +return for his splendid hospitality the Bardic Association decreed +unanimously a vote of thanks to the king. And they praised him in +poems as 'Guaire the Generous,' by which name he was ever after known +in history, for the words of the poet are immortal. + + + + +OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK + +BY GERALD GRIFFEN + + +When Ireland had kings of her own--when there was no such thing as a +coat made of red cloth in the country--when there was plenty in men's +houses, and peace and quietness at men's doors (and that is a long +time since)--there lived, in a village not far from the great city of +Lumneach,[7] two young men, cousins: one of them named Owney, a smart, +kind-hearted, handsome youth, with limb of a delicate form, and a very +good understanding. His cousin's name was Owney too, and the +neighbours christened him Owney-na-peak (Owney of the nose), on +account of a long nose he had got--a thing so out of all proportion, +that after looking at one side of his face, it was a smart morning's +walk to get round the nose and take a view of the other (at least, so +the people used to say). He was a stout, able-bodied fellow, as stupid +as a beaten hound, and he was, moreover, a cruel tyrant to his young +cousin, with whom he lived in a kind of partnership. + +[Footnote 7: The present Limerick.] + +Both of them were of a humble station. They were +smiths--white-smiths--and they got a good deal of business to do from +the lords of the court, and the knights, and all the grand people of +the city. But one day young Owney was in town, he saw a great +procession of lords, and ladies, and generals, and great people, among +whom was the king's daughter of the court--and surely it is not +possible for the young rose itself to be so beautiful as she was. His +heart fainted at her sight, and he went home desperately in love, and +not at all disposed to business. + +Money, he was told, was the surest way of getting acquainted with the +king, and so he began saving until he had put together a few +_hogs_,[8] but Owney-na-peak, finding where he had hid them, seized on +the whole, as he used to do on all young Owney's earnings. + +[Footnote 8: A _hog_, 1s. 1d.] + +One evening young Owney's mother found herself about to die, so she +called her son to her bedside and said to him: 'You have been a most +dutiful good son, and 'tis proper you should be rewarded for it. Take +this china cup to the fair,--there is a fairy gift upon it,--use your +own wit, look about you, and let the highest bidder have it--and so, +my white-headed boy,[9] God bless you!' + +[Footnote 9: White-haired boy, a curious Irish phrase for the +favourite child.] + +The young man drew the little bedcurtain down over his dead mother, +and in a few days after, with a heavy heart, he took his china cup, +and set off to the fair of Garryowen. + +The place was merry enough. The field that is called Gallows Green now +was covered with tents. There was plenty of wine (poteen not being +known in these days, let alone _parliament_), a great many handsome +girls, and 'tis unknown all the _keoh_ that was with the boys and +themselves. Poor Owney walked all the day through the fair, wishing to +try his luck, but ashamed to offer his china cup among all the fine +things that were there for sale. Evening was drawing on at last, and +he was thinking of going home, when a strange man tapped him on the +shoulder, and said: 'My good youth, I have been marking you through +the fair the whole day, going about with that cup in your hand, +speaking to nobody, and looking as if you would be wanting something +or another.' + +'I'm for selling it,' said Owney. + +'What is it you're for selling, you say?' said a second man, coming +up, and looking at the cup. + +'Why then,' said the first man, 'and what's that to you, for a prying +meddler? what do you want to know what it is he's for selling?' + +'Bad manners to you (and where's the use of my wishing you what you +have already?), haven't I a right to ask the price of what's in the +fair?' + +'E'then, the knowledge o' the price is all you'll have for it,' says +the first. 'Here, my lad, is a golden piece for your cup.' + +'That cup shall never hold drink or diet in your house, please +Heaven,' says the second; 'here's two gold pieces for the cup, lad.' + +'Why then, see this now--if I was forced to fill it to the rim with +gold before I could call it mine, you shall never hold that cup +between your fingers. Here, boy, do you mind me, give me that, once +for all, and here's ten gold pieces for it, and say no more.' + +'Ten gold pieces for a china cup!' said a great lord of the court, who +just rode up at that minute, 'it must surely be a valuable article. +Here, boy, here are twenty pieces for it, and give it to my servant.' + +'Give it to mine,' cried another lord of the party, 'and here's my +purse, where you will find ten more. And if any man offers another +fraction for it to outbid that, I'll spit him on my sword like a +snipe.' + +'I outbid him,' said a fair young lady in a veil, by his side, +flinging twenty golden pieces more on the ground. + +There was no voice to outbid the lady, and young Owney, kneeling, gave +the cup into her hands. + +'Fifty gold pieces for a china cup,' said Owney to himself, as he +plodded on home, 'that was not worth two! Ah! mother, you knew that +vanity had an open hand.' + +But as he drew near home he determined to hide his money somewhere, +knowing, as he well did, that his cousin would not leave him a single +cross to bless himself with. So he dug a little pit, and buried all +but two pieces, which he brought to the house. His cousin, knowing the +business on which he had gone, laughed heartily when he saw him enter, +and asked him what luck he had got with his punch-bowl. + +'Not so bad, neither,' says Owney. 'Two pieces of gold is not a bad +price for an article of old china.' + +'Two gold pieces, Owney, honey! Erra, let us see 'em, maybe you +would?' He took the cash from Owney's hand, and after opening his eyes +in great astonishment at the sight of so much money, he put them into +his pocket. + +'Well, Owney, I'll keep them safe for you, in my pocket within. But +tell us, maybe you would, how come you to get such a _mort_ o' money +for an old cup o' painted chaney, that wasn't worth, maybe, a fi'penny +bit?' + +'To get into the heart o' the fair, then, free and easy, and to look +about me, and to cry old china, and the first man that _come_ up, he +to ask me, what is it I'd be asking for the cup, and I to say out +bold: "A hundred pieces of gold," and he to laugh hearty, and we to +huxter together till he beat me down to two, and there's the whole way +of it all.' + +Owney-na-peak made as if he took no note of this, but next morning +early he took an old china saucer himself had in his cupboard, and off +he set, without saying a word to anybody, to the fair. You may easily +imagine that it created no small surprise in the place when they heard +a great big fellow with a china saucer in his hand crying out: 'A raal +_chaney_ saucer going for a hundred pieces of goold! raal +chaney--who'll be buying?' + +'Erra, what's that you're saying, you great gomeril?' says a man, +coming up to him, and looking first at the saucer and then in his +face. 'Is it thinking anybody would go make a _muthaun_ of himself to +give the like for that saucer?' But Owney-na-peak had no answer to +make, only to cry out: 'Raal chaney! one hundred pieces of goold!' + +A crowd soon collected about him, and finding he would give no account +of himself, they all fell upon him, beat him within an inch of his +life, and after having satisfied themselves upon him, they went their +way laughing and shouting. Towards sunset he got up, and crawled home +as well as he could, without cup or money. As soon as Owney saw him, +he helped him into the forge, looking very mournful, although, if the +truth must be told, it was to revenge himself for former good deeds of +his cousin that he set him about this foolish business. + +'Come here, Owney, eroo,' said his cousin, after he had fastened the +forge door and heated two irons in the fire. 'You child of mischief!' +said he, when he had caught him, 'you shall never see the fruits of +your roguery again, for I will put out your eyes.' And so saying he +snatched one of the red-hot irons from the fire. + +It was all in vain for poor Owney to throw himself on his knees, and +ask mercy, and beg and implore forgiveness; he was weak, and +Owney-na-peak was strong; he held him fast, and burned out both his +eyes. Then taking him, while he was yet fainting from the pain, upon +his back, he carried him off to the bleak hill of Knockpatrick,[10] a +great distance, and there laid him under a tombstone, and went his +ways. In a little time after, Owney came to himself. + +[Footnote 10: A hill in the west of the County of Limerick, on the +summit of which are the ruins of an old church, with a burying-ground +still in use. The situation is exceedingly singular and bleak.] + +'O sweet light of day! what is to become of me now?' thought the poor +lad, as he lay on his back under the tomb. 'Is this to be the fruit of +that unhappy present? Must I be dark for ever and ever? and am I never +more to look upon that sweet countenance, that even in my blindness is +not entirely shut out from me?' He would have said a great deal more +in this way, and perhaps more pathetic still, but just then he heard a +great mewing, as if all the cats in the world were coming up the hill +together in one faction. He gathered himself up, and drew back under +the stone, and remained quite still, expecting what would come next. +In a very short time he heard all the cats purring and mewing about +the yard, whisking over the tombstones, and playing all sorts of +pranks among the graves. He felt the tails of one or two brush his +nose; and well for him it was that they did not discover him there, +as he afterwards found. At last-- + +'Silence!' said one of the cats, and they were all as mute as so many +mice in an instant. 'Now, all you cats of this great county, small and +large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, mottled, and white, attend to +what I'm going to tell you in the name of your king and the master of +all the cats. The sun is down, and the moon is up, and the night is +silent, and no mortal hears us, and I may tell you a secret. You know +the king of Munster's daughter?' + +'O yes, to be sure, and why wouldn't we? Go on with your story,' said +all the cats together. + +'I have heard of her for one,' said a little dirty-faced black cat, +speaking after they had all done, 'for I'm the cat that sits upon the +hob of Owney and Owney-na-peak, the white-smiths, and I know many's +the time young Owney does be talking of her, when he sits by the fire +alone, rubbing me down and planning how he can get into her father's +court.' + +'Whist, you natural!' says the cat that was making the speech, 'what +do you think we care for your Owney, or Owney-na-peak?' + +'Murther, murther!' thinks Owney to himself, 'did anybody ever hear +the aiqual of this?' + +'Well, gentlemen,' says the cat again, 'what I have to say is this. +The king was last week struck with blindness, and you all know well, +how and by what means any blindness may be cured. You know there is no +disorder that can ail mortal frame, that may not be removed by praying +a round at the well of Barrygowen[11] yonder, and the king's disorder +is such, that no other cure whatever can be had for it. Now, beware, +don't let the secret pass one o' yer lips, for there's a +great-grandson of Simon Magus, that is coming down to try his skill, +and he it is that must use the water and marry the princess, who is to +be given to any one so fortunate as to heal her father's eyes; and on +that day, gentlemen, we are all promised a feast of the fattest mice +that ever walked the ground.' This speech was wonderfully applauded by +all the cats, and presently after, the whole crew scampered off, +jumping, and mewing, and purring, down the hill. + +[Footnote 11: The practice of praying rounds, with the view of healing +diseases, at Barrygowen well, in the County of Limerick, is still +continued, notwithstanding the exertions of the neighbouring Catholic +priesthood, which have diminished, but not abolished it.] + +Owney, being sensible that they were all gone, came from his +hiding-place, and knowing the road to Barrygowen well, he set off, and +groped his way out, and shortly knew, by the rolling of the waves,[12] +coming in from the point of Foynes, that he was near the place. He +got to the well, and making a round like a good Christian, rubbed his +eyes with the well-water, and looking up, saw day dawning in the east. +Giving thanks, he jumped up on his feet, and you may say that +Owney-na-peak was much astonished on opening the door of the forge to +find him there, his eyes as well or better than ever, and his face as +merry as a dance. + +[Footnote 12: Of the Shannon.] + +'Well, cousin,' said Owney, smiling, 'you have done me the greatest +service that one man can do another; you put me in the way of getting +two pieces of gold,' said he, showing two he had taken from his +hiding-place. 'If you could only bear the pain of suffering me just to +put out your eyes, and lay you in the same place as you laid me, who +knows what luck you'd have?' + +'No, there's no occasion for putting out eyes at all, but could not +you lay me, just as I am, to-night, in that place, and let me try my +own fortune, if it be a thing you tell thruth; and what else could +put the eyes in your head, after I burning them out with the irons?' + +'You'll know all that in time,' says Owney, stopping him in his +speech, for just at that minute, casting his eye towards the hob, he +saw the cat sitting upon it, and looking very hard at him. So he made +a sign to Owney-na-peak to be silent, or talk of something else; at +which the cat turned away her eyes, and began washing her face, quite +simple, with her two paws, looking now and then sideways into Owney's +face, just like a Christian. By and by, when she had walked out of the +forge, he shut the door after her, and finished what he was going to +say, which made Owney-na-peak still more anxious than before to be +placed under the tombstone. Owney agreed to it very readily, and just +as they were done speaking, cast a glance towards the forge window, +where he saw the imp of a cat, just with her nose and one eye peeping +in through a broken pane. He said nothing, however, but prepared to +carry his cousin to the place; where, towards nightfall, he laid him +as he had been laid himself, snug under the tombstone, and went his +way down the hill, resting in Shanagolden that night, to see what +would come of it in the morning. + +Owney-na-peak had not been more than two or three hours or so lying +down, when he heard the very same noises coming up the hill, that had +puzzled Owney the night before. Seeing the cats enter the churchyard, +he began to grow very uneasy, and strove to hide himself as well as he +could, which was tolerably well too, all being covered by the +tombstone excepting part of the nose, which was so long that he could +not get it to fit by any means. You may say to yourself, that he was +not a little surprised, when he saw the cats all assemble like a +congregation going to hear mass, some sitting, some walking about, and +asking one another after the kittens and the like, and more of them +stretching themselves upon the tombstones, and waiting the speech of +their commander. + +Silence was proclaimed at length, and he spoke: 'Now all you cats of +this great county, small and large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, +mottled, or white, attend--' + +'Stay! stay!' said a little cat with a dirty face, that just then came +running into the yard. 'Be silent, for there are mortal ears listening +to what you say. I have run hard and fast to say that your words were +overheard last night. I am the cat that sits upon the hob of Owney and +Owney-na-peak, and I saw a bottle of the water of Barrygowen hanging +up over the chimbley this morning in their house.' + +In an instant all the cats began screaming, and mewing, and flying, as +if they were mad, about the yard, searching every corner, and peeping +under every tombstone. Poor Owneyna-peak endeavoured as well as he +could to hide himself from them, and began to thump his breast and +cross himself, but it was all in vain, for one of the cats saw the +long nose peeping from under the stone, and in a minute they dragged +him, roaring and bawling, into the very middle of the churchyard, +where they flew upon him all together, and made _smithereens_ of him, +from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. + +The next morning very early, young Owney came to the churchyard, to +see what had become of his cousin. He called over and over again upon +his name, but there was no answer given. At last, entering the place +of tombs, he found his limbs scattered over the earth. + +'So that is the way with you, is it?' said he, clasping his hands, and +looking down on the bloody fragments; 'why then, though you were no +great things in the way of kindness to me when your bones were +together, that isn't the reason why I'd be glad to see them torn +asunder this morning early.' So gathering up all the pieces that he +could find, he put them into a bag he had with him, and away with him +to the well of Barrygowen, where he lost no time in making a round, +and throwing them in, all in a heap. In an instant, he saw +Owney-na-peak as well as ever, scrambling out of the well, and helping +him to get up, he asked him how he felt himself. + +'Oh! is it how I'd feel myself you'd want to know?' said the other; +'easy and I'll tell you. Take that for a specimen!' giving him at the +same time a blow on the head, which you may say wasn't long in laying +Owney sprawling on the ground. Then without giving him a minute's time +to recover, he thrust him into the very bag from which he had been +just shaken himself, resolving within himself to drown him in the +Shannon at once, and put an end to him for ever. + +Growing weary by the way, he stopped at a shebeen house _over-right_ +Robertstown Castle, to refresh himself with a _morning_, before he'd +go any farther. Poor Owney did not know what to do when he came to +himself, if it might be rightly called coming to himself, and the +great bag tied up about him. His wicked cousin shot him down behind +the door in the kitchen, and telling him he'd have his life surely if +he stirred, he walked in to take something that's good in the little +parlour. + +Owney could not for the life of him avoid cutting a hole in the bag, +to have a peep about the kitchen, and see whether he had no means of +escape. He could see only one person, a simple-looking man, who was +counting his beads in the chimney-corner, and now and then striking +his breast, and looking up as if he was praying greatly. + +'Lord,' says he, 'only give me death, death, and a favourable +judgment! I haven't anybody now to look after, nor anybody to look +after me. What's a few tinpennies to save a man from want? Only a +quiet grave is all I ask.' + +'Murther, murther!' says Owney to himself, 'here's a man wants death +and can't have it, and here am I going to have it, and, in troth, I +don't want it at all, see.' So, after thinking a little what he had +best do, he began to sing out very merrily, but lowering his voice, +for fear he should be heard in the next room: + + 'To him that tied me here, + Be thanks and praises given! + I'll bless him night and day, + For packing me to heaven. + Of all the roads you'll name, + He surely will not lag, + Who takes his way to heaven + By travelling in a bag!' + +'To heaven, _ershishin_?'[13] said the man in the chimney-corner, +opening his mouth and his eyes; 'why then, you'd be doing a Christian +turn, if you'd take a neighbour with you, that's tired of this bad and +villainous world.' + +[Footnote 13: Does he say?] + +'You're a fool, you're a fool!' said Owney. + +'I know I am, at least so the neighbours always tell me--but what +hurt? Maybe I have a Christian soul as well as another; and fool or no +fool, in a bag or out of a bag, I'd be glad and happy to go the same +road it is you are talking of.' + +After seeming to make a great favour of it, in order to allure him the +more to the bargain, Owney agreed to put him into the bag instead of +himself; and cautioning him against saying a word, he was just going +to tie him, when he was touched with a little remorse for going to +have the innocent man's life taken: and seeing a slip of a pig that +was killed the day before, in a corner, hanging up, the thought struck +him that it would do just as well to put it in the bag in their +place. No sooner said than done, to the great surprise of the natural, +he popped the pig into the bag and tied it up. + +'Now,' says he, 'my good friend, go home, say nothing, but bless the +name in heaven for saving your life; and you were as near losing it +this morning as ever man was that didn't know.' + +They left the house together. Presently out comes Owney-na-peak, very +hearty; and being so, he was not able to perceive the difference in +the contents of the bag, but hoisting it upon his back, he sallied out +of the house. Before he had gone far, he came to the rock of Foynes, +from the top of which he flung his burden into the salt waters. + +Away he went home, and knocked at the door of the forge, which was +opened to him by Owney. You may fancy him to yourself crossing and +blessing himself over and over again, when he saw, as he thought, the +ghost standing before him. But Owney looked very merry, and told him +not to be afraid. 'You did many is the good turn in your life,' says +he, 'but the equal of this never.' So he up and told him that he found +the finest place in the world at the bottom of the waters, and plenty +of money. 'See these four pieces for a specimen,' showing him some he +had taken from his own hiding hole: 'what do you think of that for a +story?' + +'Why then that it's a droll one, no less; sorrow bit av I wouldn't +have a mind to try my luck in the same way; how did you come home here +before me that took the straight road, and didn't stop for so much as +my _gusthah_[14] since I left Knockpatrick?' + +[Footnote 14: Literally--_walk in_.] + +'Oh, there's a short cut under the waters,' said Owney. 'Mind and only +be civil while you're in Thiernaoge,[15] and you'll make a sight o' +money.' + +[Footnote 15: The abode of the fairies.] + +Well became Owney, he thrust his cousin into the bag, tied it about +him, and putting it into a car that was returning after leaving a load +of oats at a corn-store in the city, it was not long before he was at +Foynes again. Here he dismounted, and going to the rock, he was, I am +afraid, half inclined to start his burden into the wide water, when he +saw a small skiff making towards the point. He hailed her, and learned +that she was about to board a great vessel from foreign parts, that +was sailing out of the river. So he went with his bag on board, and +making his bargain with the captain of the ship, he left Owney-na-peak +along with the crew, and never was troubled with him after, from that +day to this. + +As he was passing by Barrygowen well, he filled a bottle with the +water; and going home, he bought a fine suit of clothes with the rest +of the money he had buried, and away he set off in the morning to the +city of Lumneach. He walked through the town, admiring everything he +saw, until he came before the palace of the king. Over the gates of +this he saw a number of spikes, with a head of a man stuck upon each, +grinning in the sunshine. + +Not at all daunted, he knocked very boldly at the gate, which was +opened by one of the guards of the palace. 'Well! who are you, +friend?' + +'I am a great doctor that's come from foreign parts to cure the king's +eyesight. Lead me to his presence this minute.' + +'Fair and softly,' said the soldier. 'Do you see all those heads that +are stuck up there? Yours is very likely to be keeping company by +them, if you are so foolish as to come inside these walls. They are +the heads of all the doctors in the land who came before you; and +that's what makes the town so fine and healthy this time past, praised +be Heaven for the same!' + +'Don't be talking, you great gomeril,' says Owney; 'only bring me to +the king at once.' + +He was brought before the king. After being warned of his fate if he +should fail to do all that he undertook, the place was made clear of +all but a few guards, and Owney was informed once more, that if he +should restore the king's eyes, he should wed with the princess, and +have the crown after her father's death. This put him in great +spirits, and after making a round upon his bare knees about the +bottle, he took a little of the water, and rubbed it into the king's +eyes. In a minute he jumped up from his throne and looked about him as +well as ever. He ordered Owney to be dressed out like a king's son, +and sent word to his daughter that she should receive him that instant +for her husband. + +You may say to yourself that the princess, glad as she was of her +father's recovery, did not like this message. Small blame to her, +when it is considered that she never set her eyes upon the man +himself. However, her mind was changed wonderfully when he was brought +before her, covered with gold and diamonds, and all sorts of grand +things. Wishing, however, to know whether he had as good a wit as he +had a person, she told him that he should give her, on the next +morning, an answer to two questions, otherwise she would not hold him +worthy of her hand. Owney bowed, and she put the questions as follows: + +'What is that which is the sweetest thing in the world?' + +'What are the three most beautiful objects in the creation?' + +These were puzzling questions; but Owney having a small share of +brains of his own, was not long in forming an opinion upon the matter. +He was very impatient for the morning; but it came just as slow and +regular as if he were not in the world. In a short time he was +summoned to the courtyard, where all the nobles of the land assembled, +with flags waving, and trumpets sounding, and all manner of glorious +doings going on. The princess was placed on a throne of gold near her +father, and there was a beautiful carpet spread for Owney to stand +upon while he answered her questions. After the trumpets were +silenced, she put the first, with a clear sweet voice, and he replied: + +'It's salt!' says he, very stout, out. + +There was a great applause at the answer; and the princess owned, +smiling, that he had judged right. + +'But now,' said she, 'for the second. What are the three most +beautiful things in the creation?' + +'Why,' answered the young man, 'here they are. A ship in full sail--a +field of wheat in ear--and----' + +What the third most beautiful thing was, all the people didn't hear; +but there was a great blushing and laughing among the ladies, and the +princess smiled and nodded at him, quite pleased with his wit. Indeed, +many said that the judges of the land themselves could not have +answered better, had they been in Owney's place; nor could there be +anywhere found a more likely or well-spoken young man. He was brought +first to the king, who took him in his arms, and presented him to the +princess. She could not help acknowledging to herself that his +understanding was quite worthy of his handsome person. Orders being +immediately given for the marriage to proceed, they were made one with +all speed; and it is said, that before another year came round, the +fair princess was one of the most beautiful objects in the creation. + + + + +KINGS AND WARRIORS + + + + +THE KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN[16] + +BY STANDISH O'GRADY + + +One night in the month of the fires of Bel, Cathvah, the Druid and +star-gazer, was observing the heavens through his astrological +instruments. Beside him was Cuculain, just then completing his +sixteenth year. Since the exile of Fergus MacRoy, Cuculain had +attached himself most to the Ard-Druid, and delighted to be along with +him in his studies and observations. Suddenly the old man put aside +his instruments and meditated a long time in silence. + +[Footnote 16: Cuculain was the great hero of legendary Ireland.] + +'Setanta,' said he at length, 'art thou yet sixteen years of age?' + +'No, father,' replied the boy. + +'It will then be difficult to persuade the king to knight thee and +enrol thee among his knights,' said Cathvah. 'Yet this must be done +to-morrow, for it has been revealed to me that he whom Concobar +MacNessa shall present with arms to-morrow, will be renowned to the +most distant ages, and to the ends of the earth. Thou shalt be +presented with arms to-morrow, and after that thou mayest retire for a +season among thy comrades, nor go out among the warriors until thy +strength is mature.' + +The next day Cathvah procured the king's consent to the knighting of +Cuculain. Now on the same morning, one of his grooms came to Concobar +MacNessa and said: 'O chief of the Red Branch, thou knowest how no +horse has eaten barley, or ever occupied the stall where stood the +divine steed which, with another of mortal breed, in the days of +Kimbay MacFiontann, was accustomed to bear forth to the battle the +great war-queen, Macha Monga-Rue; but ever since that stall has been +empty, and no mortal steed hath profaned the stall in which the +deathless Lia Macha was wont to stand. Yet, O Concobar, as I passed +into the great stables on the east side of the courtyard, wherein are +the steeds of thy own ambus, and in which is that spot since held +sacred, I saw in the empty stall a mare, gray almost to whiteness, and +of a size and beauty such as I have never seen, who turned to look +upon me as I entered the stable, having very gentle eyes, but such as +terrified me, so that I let fall the vessel in which I was bearing +curds for the steed of Konaul Clareena; and she approached me, and +laid her head upon my shoulder, making a strange noise.' + +Now as the groom was thus speaking, Cowshra Mend Macha, a younger son +of Concobar, came before the king, and said: 'Thou knowest, O my +father, that house in which is preserved the chariot of Kimbay +MacFiontann, wherein he and she, whose name I bear, the great queen +that protects our nation, rode forth to the wars in the ancient days, +and how it has been preserved ever since, and that it is under my care +to keep bright and clean. Now this day at sunrise I approached the +house, as is my custom, and approaching, I heard dire voices, +clamorous and terrible, that came from within, and noises like the +noise of battle, and shouts as of warriors in the agony of the +conflict, that raise their voices with short intense cries as they ply +their weapons, avoiding or inflicting death. Then I went back +terrified, but there met me Minrowar, son of Gerkin, for he came but +last night from Moharne, in the east, and he went to look at his own +steeds; but together we opened the gate of the chariot-house, and the +bronze of the chariot burned like glowing fire, and the voices cried +out in acclaim, when we stood in the doorway, and the light streamed +into the dark chamber. Doubtless, a great warrior will appear amongst +the Red Branch, for men say that not for a hundred years have these +voices been heard, and I know not for whom Macha sends these portents, +if it be not for the son of Sualtam, though he is not yet of an age to +bear arms.' + +Thus was Concobar prepared for the knighting of Cuculain. + +Then in the presence of his court, and his warriors, and the youths +who were the comrades and companions of Cuculain, Concobar presented +the young hero with his weapons of war, after he had taken the vows of +the Red Branch, and having also bound himself by certain gaesa.[17] +But Cuculain looked narrowly upon the weapons, and he struck the +spears together and clashed the sword upon the shield, and he brake +the spears in pieces, and the sword, and made chasms in the shield. + +[Footnote 17: Curious vows taken by the ancient warriors. Hardly +anything definite is known of them.--ED.] + +'These are not good weapons, O my King,' said the boy. + +Then the king presented him with others that were larger and stronger, +and these too the boy brake into little pieces. + +'These are still worse, O son of Nessa,' said the boy, 'and it is not +seemly, O chief of the Red Branch, that on the day that I am to +receive my arms I should be made a laughing-stock before the Clanna +Rury, being yet but a boy.' + +But Concobar MacNessa exulted exceedingly when he beheld the amazing +strength and the waywardness of the boy, and beneath delicate brows +his eyes glittered like gleaming swords as he glanced rapidly round on +the crowd of martial men that surrounded him; but amongst them all he +seemed himself a bright torch of valour and war, more pure and clear +than polished steel. But he beckoned to one of his knights, who +hastened away and returned, bringing Concobar's own shield and spears +and the sword out of the Tayta Brac, where they were kept, an +equipment in reserve. And Cuculain shook them and bent them, and +clashed them together, but they held firm. + +'These are good arms, O son of Nessa,' said Cuculain. + +Then there were led forward a pair of noble steeds and a war-car, and +the king conferred them on Cuculain. Then Cuculain sprang into the +chariot, and standing with legs apart, he stamped from side to side, +and shook and shook, and jolted the car until the axle brake and the +car itself was broken in pieces. + +'This is not a good chariot, O my King,' said the boy. + +Then there were led forward three chariots, and all these he brake in +succession. + +'These are not good chariots, O chief of the Red Branch,' said +Cuculain. 'No brave warrior would enter the battle or fight from such +rotten foothold.' + +Then the king called to his son Cowshra Mead Macha and bade him take +Laeg, and harness to the war-chariot, of which he had the care, the +wondrous gray steed, and that one which had been given him by Kelkar, +the son of Uther, and to give Laeg a charioteering equipment, to be +charioteers of Cuculain. For now it was apparent to all the nobles and +to the king that a lion of war had appeared amongst them, and that it +was for him Macha had sent these omens. + +Then Cuculain's heart leaped in his breast when he heard the thunder +of the great war-car and the mad whinnying of the horses that smelt +the battle afar. Soon he beheld them with his eyes, and the charioteer +with the golden fillet of his office, erect in the car, struggling to +subdue their fury. A gray, long-maned steed, whale-bellied, +broad-chested, behind one yoke; a black, ugly-maned steed behind the +other. + +Like a hawk swooping along the face of a cliff when the wind is high, +or like the rush of the March wind over the plain, or like the +fleetness of the stag roused from his lair by the hounds and covering +his first field, was the rush of those steeds when they had broken +through the restraint of the charioteer, as though they galloped over +fiery flags, so that the earth shook and trembled with the velocity of +their motion, and all the time the great car brayed and shrieked as +the wheels of solid and glittering bronze went round, for there were +demons that had their abode in that car. + +The charioteer restrained the steeds before the assembly, but +nay-the-less a deep pur, like the pur of a tiger, proceeded from the +axle. Then the whole assembly lifted up their voices and shouted for +Cuculain, and he himself, Cuculain the son of Sualtam, sprang into his +chariot, all armed, with a cry as of a warrior springing into his +chariot in the battle, and he stood erect and brandished his spears, +and the war-sprites of the Gaeil shouted along with them, to the +Bocanahs and Bananahs and the Genitii Glindi, the wild people of the +glens, and the demons of the air, roared around him, when first the +great warrior of the Gaeil, his battle-arms in his hands, stood +equipped for war in his chariot before all the warriors of his tribe, +the kings of the Clanna Rury, and the people of Emain Macha. + + + + +THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE + +BY SAMUEL LOVER + + +You see, there was a waiver lived, wanst upon a time, in Duleek here, +hard by the gate, and a very honest, industherous man he was, by all +accounts. He had a wife, and av coorse they had childhre, and small +blame to them, and plenty of them, so that the poor little waiver was +obleeged to work his fingers to the bone a'most to get them the bit +and the sup; but he didn't begridge that, for he was an industherous +craythur, as I said before, and it was up airly and down late with +him, and the loom never standin' still. Well, it was one mornin' that +his wife called to him, and he sitting very busy throwin' the shuttle; +and says she, 'Come here,' says she, 'jewel, and ate your brekquest, +now that it's ready.' But he never minded her, but wint an workin'. So +in a minit or two more, says she, callin' out to him agin, 'Arrah, +lave off slavin' yourself, my darlin', and ate your bit o' brekquest +while it is hot.' + +'Lave me alone,' says he, and he dhruv the shuttle fasther nor before. + +Well, in a little time more, she goes over to him where he sot, and +says she, coaxin' him like, 'Thady, dear,' says she, 'the stirabout +will be stone cowld if you don't give over that weary work and come +and ate it at wanst.' + +'I'm busy with a patthern here that is brakin' my heart,' says the +waiver; 'and antil I complate it and masther it intirely I won't +quit.' + +'Oh, think o' the iligant stirabout, that 'ill be spylte intirely.' + +'To the divil with the stirabout,' says he. + +'God forgive you,' says she, 'for cursin' your good brekquest.' + +'Ay, and you too,' says he. + +'Throth, you're as cross as two sticks this blessed morning, Thady,' +says the poor wife; 'and it's a heavy handful I have of you when you +are cruked in your temper; but stay there if you like, and let your +stirabout grow cowld, and not a one o' me 'ill ax you agin;' and with +that off she wint, and the waiver, sure enough, was mighty crabbed, +and the more the wife spoke to him the worse he got, which, you know, +is only nath'ral. Well, he left the loom at last, and wint over to the +stirabout, and what would you think but whin he looked at it, it was +as black as a crow; for, you see, it was in the hoighth o' summer, and +the flies lit upon it to that degree that the stirabout was fairly +covered with them. + +'Why, thin, bad luck to your impidence,' says the waiver; 'would no +place sarve you but that? and is it spyling my brekquest yiz are, you +dirty bastes?' And with that, bein' altogether cruked-tempered at the +time, he lifted his hand, and he made one great slam at the dish o' +stirabout, and killed no less than three score and tin flies at the +one blow. It was three score and tin exactly, for he counted the +carcasses one by one, and laid them out on a clane plate, for to view +them. + +Well, he felt a powerful sperit risin' in him, when he seen the +slaughther he done, at one blow; and with that he got as consaited as +the very dickens, and not a sthroke more work he'd do that day, but +out he wint, and was fractious and impident to every one he met, and +was squarin' up into their faces and sayin', 'Look at that fist! +that's the fist that killed three score and tin at one blow--Whoo!' + +With that all the neighbours thought he was crack'd, and faith, the +poor wife herself thought the same when he kem home in the evenin', +afther spendin' every rap he had in dhrink, and swaggerin' about the +place, and lookin' at his hand every minit. + +'Indeed, an' your hand is very dirty, sure enough, Thady jewel,' says +the poor wife; and thrue for her, for he rowled into a ditch comin' +home. 'You had betther wash it, darlin'.' + +'How dar' you say dirty to the greatest hand in Ireland?' says he, +going to bate her. + +'Well, it's nat dirty,' says she. + +'It is throwin' away my time I have been all my life,' says he; +'livin' with you at all, and stuck at a loom, nothin' but a poor +waiver, when it is Saint George or the Dhraggin I ought to be, which +is two of the siven champions o' Christendom.' + +'Well, suppose they christened him twice as much,' says the wife; +'sure, what's that to uz?' + +'Don't put in your prate,' says he; 'you ignorant sthrap,' says he. +'You're vulgar, woman--you're vulgar--mighty vulgar; but I'll have +nothin' more to say to any dirty snakin' thrade again--divil a more +waivin' I'll do.' + +'Oh, Thady dear, and what'll the children do then?' + +'Let them go play marvels,' says he. + +'That would be but poor feedin' for them, Thady.' + +'They shan't want for feedin',' says he; 'for it's a rich man I'll be +soon, and a great man too.' + +'Usha, but I'm glad to hear it, darlin',--though I dunna how it's to +be, but I think you had betther go to bed, Thady.' + +'Don't talk to me of any bed but the bed o' glory, woman,' says he, +lookin' mortial grand. + +'Oh! God send we'll all be in glory yet,' says the wife, crassin' +herself; 'but go to sleep, Thady, for this present.' + +'I'll sleep with the brave yit,' says he. + +'Indeed, an' a brave sleep will do you a power o' good, my +darlin','says she. + +'And it's I that will be the knight!' says he. + +'All night, if you plaze, Thady,' says she. + +'None o' your coaxin','says he. 'I'm detarmined on it, and I'll set +off immediantly, and be a knight arriant.' + +'A what?' says she. + +'A knight arriant, woman.' + +'Lord, be good to me, what's that?' says she. + +'A knight arriant is a rale gintleman,' says he; 'going round the +world for sport, with a swoord by his side, takin' whatever he plazes +for himself; and that's a knight arriant,' says he. + +Well, sure enough he wint about among his neighbours the next day, +and he got an owld kittle from one, and a saucepan from another; and +he took them to the tailor, and he sewed him up a shuit o' tin clothes +like any knight arriant and he borrowed a pot lid, and _that_ he was +very partic'lar about, bekase it was his shield and he wint to a frind +o' his, a painther and glazier, and made him paint an his shield in +big letthers-- + +'I'M THE MAN OF ALL MIN, +THAT KILL'D THREE SCORE AND TIN +AT A BLOW.' + +'When the people sees _that_,' says the waiver to himself, 'the sorra +one will dar' for to come near me.' + +And with that he towld the wife to scour out the small iron pot for +him, 'For,' says he, 'it will make an iligant helmet'; and when it was +done, he put it an his head, and his wife said, 'Oh, murther, Thady +jewel, is it puttin' a great heavy iron pot an your head you are, by +way iv a hat?' + +'Sartinly,' says he; 'for a knight arraint should always have _a +woight an his brain_.' + +'But, Thady dear,' says the wife, 'there's a hole in it, and it can't +keep out the weather.' + +'It will be the cooler,' says he, puttin' it an him; 'besides, if I +don't like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp o' sthraw, or the +like o' that.' + +'The three legs of it looks mighty quare, stickin' up,' says she. + +'Every helmet has a spike stickin' out o' the top of it,' says the +waiver; 'and if mine has three, it's only the grandher it is.' + +'Well,' says the wife, getting bitther at last, 'all I can say is, it +isn't the first sheep's head was dhress'd in it.' + +'_Your sarvint, ma'am_,' says he; and off he set. + +Well, he was in want of a horse, and so he wint to a field hard by, +where the miller's horse was grazin', that used to carry the ground +corn round the counthry. + +'This is the idintical horse for me,' says the waiver; 'he is used to +carryin' flour and male, and what am I but the _flower_ o' shovelry in +a coat o' _mail_; so that the horse won't be put out iv his way in the +laste.' + +But as he was ridin' him out o'the field, who should see him but the +miller. + +'Is it stalin' my horse you are, honest man?' says the miller. + +'No,' says the waiver; 'I'm only goin' to _ax_ercise him,' says he, +'in the cool o' the evenin'; it will be good for his health.' + +'Thank you kindly,' says the miller; 'but lave him where he is, and +you'll obleege me.' + +'I can't afford it,' says the waiver, runnin' the horse at the ditch. + +'Bad luck to your impidence,' says the miller; 'you've as much tin +about you as a thravellin' tinker, but you've more brass. Come back +here, you vagabone,' says he. + +But he was too late; away galloped the waiver, and took the road to +Dublin, for he thought the best thing he could do was to go to the +King o' Dublin (for Dublin was a grate place thin, and had a king iv +its own), and he thought, maybe, the King o' Dublin would give him +work. Well, he was four days goin' to Dublin, for the baste was not +the best and the roads worse, not all as one as now; but there was no +turnpikes then, glory be to God! When he got to Dublin, he wint +sthrait to the palace, and whin he got into the coortyard he let his +horse go and graze about the place, for the grass was growin' out +betune the stones; everything was flourishin' thin in Dublin, you see. +Well, the king was lookin' out of his dhrawin'-room windy, for +divarshin, whin the waiver kem in; but the waiver pretended not to see +him, and he wint over to a stone sate, undher the windy--for, you see, +there was stone sates all round about the place for the accommodation +o' the people--for the king was a dacent, obleeging man; well, as I +said, the waiver wint over and lay down an one o' the sates, just +undher the king's windy, and purtended to go asleep; but he took care +to turn out the front of his shield that had the letthers an it; well, +my dear, with that, the king calls out to one of the lords of his +coort that was standin' behind him, howldin' up the skirt of his coat, +accordin' to rayson, and says he: 'Look here,' says he, 'what do you +think of a vagabone like that comin' undher my very nose to go sleep? +It is thrue I'm a good king,' says he, 'and I 'commodate the people by +havin' sates for them to sit down and enjoy the raycreation and +contimplation of seein' me here, lookin' out a' my dhrawin'-room +windy, for divarshin; but that is no rayson they are to _make a hotel_ +o' the place, and come and sleep here. Who is it at all?' says the +king. + +'Not a one o' me knows, plaze your majesty.' + +'I think he must be a furriner,' says the king; 'bekase his dhress is +outlandish.' + +'And doesn't know manners, more betoken,' says the lord. + +'I'll go down and _circumspect_ him myself,' says the king; 'folly +me,' says he to the lord, wavin' his hand at the same time in the most +dignacious manner. + +Down he wint accordingly, followed by the lord; and whin he wint over +to where the waiver was lying, sure the first thing he seen was his +shield with the big letthers an it, and with that, says he to the +lord, 'Bedad,' says he, 'this is the very man I want.' + +'For what, plaze your majesty?' says the lord. + +'To kill that vagabone dragghin, to be sure,' says the king. + +'Sure, do you think he could kill him,' says the lord, 'when all the +stoutest knights in the land wasn't aiquil to it, but never kem back, +and was ate up alive by the cruel desaiver.' + +'Sure, don't you see there,' says the king, pointin' at the shield, +'that he killed three score and tin at one blow? and the man that done +_that_, I think, is a match for anything.' + +So, with that, he wint over to the waiver and shuck him by the +shouldher for to wake him, and the waiver rubbed his eyes as if just +wakened, and the king says to him, 'God save you,' said he. + +'God save you kindly,' says the waiver, _purtendin'_ he was quite +onknowst who he was spakin' to. + +'Do you know who I am,' says the king, 'that you make so free, good +man?' + +'No, indeed,' says the waiver; 'you have the advantage o' me.' + +'To be sure I have,' says the king, _moighty high_; 'sure, ain't I the +King o' Dublin?' says he. + +The waiver dhropped down an his two knees forninst the king, and says +he, 'I beg God's pardon and yours for the liberty I tuk; plaze your +holiness, I hope you'll excuse it.' + +'No offince,' says the king; 'get up, good man. And what brings you +here?' says he. + +'I'm in want o' work, plaze your riverence,' says the waiver. + +'Well, suppose I give you work?' says the king. + +'I'll be proud to sarve you, my lord,' says the waiver. + +'Very well,' says the king. 'You killed three score and tin at one +blow, I understan',' says the king. + +'Yis,' says the waiver; 'that was the last thrifle o' work I done, and +I'm afeard my hand 'll go out o' practice if I don't get some job to +do at wanst.' + +'You shall have a job immediantly,' says the king. 'It is not three +score and tin or any fine thing like that; it is only a blaguard +dhraggin that is disturbin' the counthry and ruinatin' my tinanthry +wid aitin' their powlthry, and I'm lost for want of eggs,' says the +king. + +'Throth, thin, plaze your worship,' says the waiver, 'you look as +yollow as if you swallowed twelve yolks this minit.' + +'Well, I want this dhraggin to be killed,' says the king. 'It will be +no throuble in life to you; and I am only sorry that it isn't betther +worth your while, for he isn't worth fearin' at all; only I must tell +you, that he lives in the County Galway, in the middle of a bog, and +he has an advantage in that.' + +'Oh, I don't value it in the laste,' says the waiver; 'for the last +three score and tin I killed was in a _soft place_.' + +'When will you undhertake the job, then?' says the king. + +'Let me at him at wanst,' says the waiver. + +'That's what I like,' says the king; 'you're the very man for my +money,' says he. + +'Talkin' of money,' says the waiver; 'by the same token, I'll want a +thrifle o' change from you for my thravellin' charges.' + +'As much as you plaze,' says the king; and with the word, he brought +him into his closet, where there was an owld stockin' in an oak chest, +burstin' wid goolden guineas. + +'Take as many as you plaze,' says the king; and sure enough, my dear, +the little waiver stuffed his tin clothes as full as they could howld +with them. + +'Now, I'm ready for the road,' says the waiver. + +'Very well,' says the king; 'but you must have a fresh horse,' says +he. + +'With all my heart,' says the waiver, who thought he might as well +exchange the miller's owld garron for a betther. + +And maybe it's wondherin' you are that the waiver would think of goin' +to fight the dhraggin afther what he heerd about him, when he was +purtendin' to be asleep, but he had no sitch notion; all he intended +was,--to fob the goold, and ride back again to Duleek with his gains +and a good horse. But, you see, cute as the waiver was, the king was +cuter still; for these high quolity, you see, is great desaivers; and +so the horse the waiver was put an was larned on purpose; and sure, +the minit he was mounted, away powdhered the horse, and the divil a +toe he'd go but right down to Galway. Well, for four days he was goin' +evermore, until at last the waiver seen a crowd o' people runnin' as +if owld Nick was at their heels, and they shoutin' a thousand murdhers +and cryin', 'The dhraggin, the dhraggin!' and he couldn't stop the +horse nor make him turn back, but away he pelted right forninst the +terrible baste that was comin' up to him, and there was the most +_nefaarious_ smell o' sulphur, savin' your presence, enough to knock +you down; and, faith the waiver seen he had no time to lose, and so he +threw himself off the horse and made to a three that was growin' nigh +hand, and away he clambered up into it as nimble as a cat; and not a +minit had he to spare, for the dhraggin kem up in a powerful rage, and +he devoured the horse body and bones, in less than no time; and then +he began to sniffle and scent about for the waiver, and at last he +clapt his eye an him, where he was, up in the three, and says he, 'In +throth, you might as well come down out o' that,' says he; 'for I'll +have you as sure as eggs is mate.' + +'Divil a fut I'll go down,' says the waiver. + +'Sorra care, I care,' says the dhraggin; 'for you're as good as ready +money in my pocket this minit, for I'll lie undher this three,' says +he, 'and sooner or later you must fall to my share'; and sure enough +he sot down, and began to pick his teeth with his tail, afther the +heavy brekquest he made that mornin' (for he ate a whole village, let +alone the horse), and he got dhrowsy at last, and fell asleep; but +before he wint to sleep, he wound himself all round about the three, +all as one as a lady windin' ribbon round her finger, so that the +waiver could not escape. + +Well, as soon as the waiver knew he was dead asleep, by the snorin' of +him--and every snore he let out of him was like a clap o' +thunder--that minit the waiver began to creep down the three, as +cautious as a fox; and he was very nigh hand the bottom, when, bad +cess to it, a thievin' branch he was dipindin' an bruk, and down he +fell right a-top o' the dhraggin; but if he did, good luck was an his +side, for where should he fall but with his two legs right acrass the +dhraggin's neck, and, my jew'l, he laid howlt o' the baste's ears, and +there he kept his grip, for the dhraggin wakened and endayvoured for +to bite him; but, you see, by rayson the waiver was behind his ears, +he could not come at him, and, with that, he endayvoured for to shake +him off; but the divil a stir could he stir the waiver; and though he +shuk all the scales an his body, he could not turn the scale agin the +waiver. + +'By the hokey, this is too bad intirely,' says the dhraggin; 'but if +you won't let go,' says he, 'by the powers o' wildfire, I'll give you +a ride that 'ill astonish your siven small sinses, my boy'; and, with +that, away he flew like mad; and where do you think he did +fly?--bedad, he flew sthraight for Dublin, divil a less. But the +waiver bein' an his neck was a great disthress to him, and he would +rather have had him an _inside passenger_; but, anyway, he flew and he +flew till he kem _slap_ up agin the palace o' the king; for, bein' +blind with the rage, he never seen it, and he knocked his brains +out--that is, the small thrifle he had--and down he fell spacheless. +An' you see, good luck would have it, that the King o' Dublin was +lookin' out iv' his dhrawin'-room windy, for divarshin, that day also, +and whin he seen the waiver ridin' an the fiery dhraggin (for he was +blazin' like a tar-barrel), he called out to his coortyers to come and +see the show. 'By the powdhers o' war, here comes the knight arriant,' +says the king, 'ridin' the dhraggin that's all afire, and if he gets +_into the palace_, yiz must be ready wid the _fire ingines_,' says he, +'for to _put him out_.' But when they seen the dhraggin fall outside, +they all run downstairs and scampered into the palace-yard for to +circumspect the _curosity_; and by the time they got down, the waiver +had got off o' the dhraggin's neck, and runnin' up to the king, says +he, 'Plaze your holiness,' says he, 'I did not think myself worthy of +killin' this facetious baste, so I brought him to yourself for to do +him the honour of decripitation by your own royal five fingers. But I +tamed him first, before I allowed him the liberty for to _dar'_ to +appear in your royal prisince, and you'll oblige me if you'll just +make your mark with your own hand upon the onruly baste's neck.' And +with that the king, sure enough, dhrew out his swoord and took the +head aff the _dirty_ brute as _clane_ as a new pin. Well, there was +great rejoicin' in the coort that the dhraggin was killed; and says +the king to the little waiver, says he, 'You are a knight arriant as +it is, and so it would be of no use for to knight you over agin; but I +will make you a lord,' says he. + +'O Lord!' says the waiver, thunder-struck like at his own good luck. + +'I will,' says the king; 'and as you are the first man I ever heer'd +tell of that rode a dhraggin, you shall be called Lord _Mount_ +Dhraggin,' says he. + +'And where's my estates, plaze your holiness?' says the waiver, who +always had a sharp look-out afther the main chance. + +'Oh, I didn't forget that,' says the king; 'it is my royal pleasure to +provide well for you, and for that rayson I make you a present of all +the dhraggins in the world, and give you power over them from this +out,' says he. + +'Is that all?' says the waiver. + +'All!' says the king. 'Why, you ongrateful little vagabone, was the +like ever given to any man before?' + +'I b'lieve not, indeed,' says the waiver; 'many thanks to your +majesty.' + +'But that is not all I'll do for you,' says the king; 'I'll give you +my daughther too in marriage,' says he. Now, you see, that was nothin' +more than what he promised the waiver in his first promise; for, by +all accounts, the king's daughther was the greatest dhraggin ever was +seen, and had the divil's own tongue, and a beard a yard long, which +she _purtended_ was put an her by way of a penance by Father Mulcahy, +her confissor; but it was well known it was in the family for ages, +and no wondher it was so long, by rayson of that same. + + + + +APPENDIX + + + + +CLASSIFICATION OF IRISH FAIRIES + + +Irish Fairies divide themselves into two great classes: the sociable +and the solitary. The first are in the main kindly, and the second +full of all uncharitableness. + + +THE SOCIABLE FAIRIES + +These creatures, who go about in troops, and quarrel, and make love, +much as men and women do, are divided into land fairies or Sheoques +(Ir. _Sidheog_, 'a little fairy,') and water fairies or Merrows (Ir. +_Moruadh_, 'a sea maid'; the masculine is unknown). At the same time I +am inclined to think that the term Sheoque may be applied to both +upon occasion, for I have heard of a whole village turning out to hear +two red-capped water fairies, who were very 'little fairies' indeed, +play upon the bagpipes. + +1. _The Sheoques._--The Sheoques proper, however, are the spirits that +haunt the sacred thorn bushes and the green raths. All over Ireland +are little fields circled by ditches, and supposed to be ancient +fortifications and sheep-folds. These are the raths, or forts, or +'royalties,' as they are variously called. Here, marrying and giving +in marriage, live the land fairies. Many a mortal they are said to +have enticed down into their dim world. Many more have listened to +their fairy music, till all human cares and joys drifted from their +hearts and they became great peasant seers or 'Fairy Doctors,' or +great peasant musicians or poets like Carolan, who gathered his tunes +while sleeping on a fairy rath; or else they died in a year and a day, +to live ever after among the fairies. These Sheoques are on the whole +good; but one most malicious habit have they--a habit worthy of a +witch. They steal children and leave a withered fairy, a thousand or +maybe two thousand years old, instead. Three or four years ago a man +wrote to one of the Irish papers, telling of a case in his own +village, and how the parish priest made the fairies deliver the stolen +child up again. At times full-grown men and women have been taken. +Near the village of Coloney, Sligo, I have been told, lives an old +woman who was taken in her youth. When she came home at the end of +seven years she had no toes, for she had danced them off. Now and then +one hears of some real injury being done a person by the land fairies, +but then it is nearly always deserved. They are said to have killed +two people in the last six months in the County Down district where I +am now staying. But then these persons had torn up thorn bushes +belonging to the Sheoques. + +2. _The Merrows._--These water fairies are said to be common. I asked +a peasant woman once whether the fishermen of her village had ever +seen one. 'Indeed, they don't like to see them at all,' she answered, +'for they always bring bad weather.' Sometimes the Merrows come out of +the sea in the shape of little hornless cows. When in their own shape, +they have fishes' tails and wear a red cap called in Irish _cohuleen +driuth_ (p. 79). The men among them have, according to Croker, green +teeth, green hair, pigs' eyes, and red noses; but their women are +beautiful, and sometimes prefer handsome fishermen to their +green-haired lovers. Near Bantry, in the last century, lived a woman +covered with scales like a fish, who was descended, as the story goes, +from such a marriage. I have myself never heard tell of this grotesque +appearance of the male Merrows, and think it probably a merely local +Munster tradition. + + +THE SOLITARY FAIRIES + +These are nearly all gloomy and terrible in some way. There are, +however, some among them who have light hearts and brave attire. + +1. _The Lepricaun_ (Ir. _Leith bhrogan_, _i.e._ the one shoe +maker).--This creature is seen sitting under a hedge mending a shoe, +and one who catches him can make him deliver up his crocks of gold, +for he is a miser of great wealth; but if you take your eyes off him +the creature vanishes like smoke. He is said to be the child of an +evil spirit and a debased fairy, and wears, according to McAnally, a +red coat with seven buttons in each row, and a cocked-hat, on the +point of which he sometimes spins like a top. In Donegal he goes clad +in a great frieze coat. + +2. _The Cluricaun_ (Ir. _Clobhair-cean_ in O'Kearney).--Some writers +consider this to be another name for the Lepricaun, given him when he +has laid aside his shoe-making at night and goes on the spree. The +Cluricauns' occupations are robbing wine-cellars and riding sheep and +shepherds' dogs for a livelong night, until the morning finds them +panting and mud-covered. + +3. _The Gonconer or Ganconagh_ (Ir. _Gean-canogh_, _i.e._ +love-talker).--This is a creature of the Lepricaun type, but, unlike +him, is a great idler. He appears in lonely valleys, always with a +pipe in his mouth, and spends his time in making love to shepherdesses +and milkmaids. + +4. _The Far Darrig_ (Ir. _Fear Dearg_, _i.e._ red man).--This is the +practical joker of the other world. The wild Sligo story I give of 'A +Fairy Enchantment' was probably his work. Of these solitary and mainly +evil fairies there is no more lubberly wretch than this same Far +Darrig. Like the next phantom, he presides over evil dreams. + +5. _The Pooka_ (Ir. _Puca_, a word derived by some from _poc_, a +he-goat).--The Pooka seems of the family of the nightmare. He has most +likely never appeared in human form, the one or two recorded instances +being probably mistakes, he being mixed up with the Far Darrig. His +shape is usually that of a horse, a bull, a goat, eagle, or ass. His +delight is to get a rider, whom he rushes with through ditches and +rivers and over mountains, and shakes off in the gray of the morning. +Especially does he love to plague a drunkard: a drunkard's sleep is +his kingdom. At times he takes more unexpected forms than those of +beast or bird. The one that haunts the Dun of Coch-na-Phuca in +Kilkenny takes the form of a fleece of wool, and at night rolls out +into the surrounding fields, making a buzzing noise that so terrifies +the cattle that unbroken colts will run to the nearest man and lay +their heads upon his shoulder for protection. + +6. _The Dullahan._--This is a most gruesome thing. He has no head, or +carries it under his arm. Often he is seen driving a black coach +called coach-a-bower (Ir. _Coite-bodhar_), drawn by headless horses. +It rumbles to your door, and if you open it a basin of blood is thrown +in your face. It is an omen of death to the houses where it pauses. +Such a coach not very long ago went through Sligo in the gray of the +morning, as was told me by a sailor who believed he saw it. In one +village I know its rumbling is said to be heard many times in the +year. + +7. _The Leanhaun Shee_ (Ir. _Leanhaun sidhe_, _i.e._ fairy +mistress).--This spirit seeks the love of men. If they refuse, she is +their slave; if they consent, they are hers, and can only escape by +finding one to take their place. Her lovers waste away, for she lives +on their life. Most of the Gaelic poets, down to quite recent times, +have had a Leanhaun Shee, for she gives inspiration to her slaves and +is indeed the Gaelic muse--this malignant fairy. Her lovers, the +Gaelic poets, died young. She grew restless, and carried them away to +other worlds, for death does not destroy her power. + +8. _The Far Gorta_ (man of hunger).--This is an emaciated fairy that +goes through the land in famine time, begging and bringing good luck +to the giver. + +9. _The Banshee_ (Ir. _Bean-sidhe_, _i.e._ fairy woman).--This fairy, +like the Fear Gorta, differs from the general run of solitary fairies +by its generally good disposition. She is perhaps not really one of +them at all, but a sociable fairy grown solitary through much sorrow. +The name corresponds to the less common Far Shee (Ir. _Fear Sidhe_), a +man fairy. She wails, as most people know, over the death of a member +of some old Irish family. Sometimes she is an enemy of the house and +screams with triumph, but more often a friend. When more than one +Banshee comes to cry, the man or woman who is dying must have been +very holy or very brave. Occasionally she is most undoubtedly one of +the sociable fairies. Cleena, once an Irish princess and then a +Munster goddess, and now a Sheoque, is thus mentioned by the greatest +of Irish antiquarians. + +O'Donovan, writing in 1849 to a friend, who quotes his words in the +_Dublin University Magazine_, says: 'When my grandfather died in +Leinster in 1798, Cleena came all the way from Ton Cleena to lament +him; but she has not been heard ever since lamenting any of our race, +though I believe she still weeps in the mountains of Drumaleaque in +her own country, where so many of the race of Eoghan More are dying of +starvation.' The Banshee on the other hand who cries with triumph is +often believed to be no fairy but a ghost of one wronged by an +ancestor of the dying. Some say wrongly that she never goes beyond the +seas, but dwells always in her own country. Upon the other hand, a +distinguished writer on anthropology assures me that he has heard her +on 1st December 1867, in Pital, near Libertad, Central America, as he +rode through a deep forest. She was dressed in pale yellow, and raised +a cry like the cry of a bat. She came to announce the death of his +father. This is her cry, written down by him with the help of a +Frenchman and a violin. + +[Illustration: music no caption ] + +He saw and heard her again on 5th February 1871, at 16 Devonshire +Street, Queen's Square, London. She came this time to announce the +death of his eldest child; and in 1884 he again saw and heard her at +28 East Street, Queen's Square, the death of his mother being the +cause. + +The Banshee is called _badh_ or _bowa_ in East Munster, and is named +_Bachuntha_ by Banim in one of his novels. + +_Other Fairies and Spirits._--Besides the foregoing, we have other +solitary fairies, of which too little definite is known to give them +each a separate mention. They are the House Spirits, of whom 'Teigue +of the Lee' is probably an instance; the Water Sherie, a kind of +will-o'-the-wisp; the Sowlth, a formless luminous creature; the Pastha +(_Piast-bestia_), the lake dragon, a guardian of hidden treasure; and +the Bo men fairies, who live in the marshes of County Down and destroy +the unwary. They may be driven away by a blow from a particular kind +of sea-weed. I suspect them of being Scotch fairies imported by Scotch +settlers. Then there is the great tribe of ghosts called Thivishes in +some parts. + +These are all the fairies and spirits I have come across in Irish +folklore. There are probably many others undiscovered. + +W. B. YEATS. + +CO. DOWN, _June 1891_. + + + + +AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLKLORE + + +Croker's _Legends of the South of Ireland_; Lady Wilde's _Ancient +Legends of Ireland_, and _Ancient Charms_; Sir William Wilde's _Irish +Popular Superstitions_; McAnally's _Irish Wonders_; _Irish Folklore_, +by Lageniensis (Father O'Hanlan); Curtins's _Myths and Folklore of +Ireland_; Douglas Hyde's _Beside the Fire_ and his _Leabhar +Sgeulaigheachta_; Patrick Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions of the Irish +Peasantry_, his _Banks of the Boro_, his _Evenings on the Duffrey_, +and his _Legends of Mount Leinster_; the chap-books, _Royal Fairy +Tales_, and _Tales of the Fairies_. There is also much folklore in +Carleton's _Traits and Stories_; in Lover's _Legends and Stories of +the Irish Peasantry_; in Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall's _Ireland_; in Lady +Chatterton's _Rambles in the South of Ireland_; in Gerald Griffen's +_Tales of a Jury Room_ in particular, and in his other books in +general. It would repay the trouble if some Irish magazine would +select from his works the stray legends and scraps of fairy belief. +There is much in the _Collegians_. There is also folklore in the +chap-book _Hibernian Tales_, and a Banshee story or two will be found +in Miss Lefanu's _Memoirs of my Grandmother_, and in Barrington's +_Recollections_. There are also stories in Donovan's introduction to +the _Four Masters_. The best articles are those in the _Dublin and +London Magazine_ ("The Fairy Greyhound" is from this collection) for +1827 and 1829, about a dozen in all, and David Fitzgerald's various +contributions to the _Review Celtique_ in our own day, and Miss +M'Clintock's articles in the _Dublin University Magazine_ for 1878. +There are good articles also in the _Dublin University Magazine_ for +1839, and much Irish folklore is within the pages of the _Folklore +Journal_ and the _Folklore Record_, and in the proceedings of the +_Kilkenny Archaeological Society_. The _Penny Journal_, the _Newry +Magazine_, _Duffy's Sixpenny Magazine_, and the _Hibernian Magazine_, +are also worth a search by any Irish writer on the look-out for +subjects for song or ballad. My own articles in the _Scots Observer_ +and _National Observer_ give many gatherings from the little-reaped +Connaught fields. I repeat this list of authorities from my _Fairy and +Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry_,--a compilation from some of the +sources mentioned,--bringing it down to date and making one or two +corrections. The reader who would know Irish tradition should read +these books above all others--Lady Wilde's _Ancient Legends_, Douglas +Hyde's _Beside the Fire_, and a book not mentioned in the foregoing +list, for it deals with the bardic rather than the folk literature, +Standish O'Grady's _History of Ireland, Heroic Period_--perhaps the +most imaginative book written on any Irish subject in recent decades. + + + * * * * * + + +_THE CHILDREN'S LIBRARY._ + + +THE BROWN OWL. + +A CHINA CUP, AND OTHER STORIES. + +STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND. + +THE LITTLE PRINCESS. + +THE STORY OF A PUPPET. + +TALES FROM THE MABINOGION. + +IRISH FAIRY TALES. + + * * * * * + +_(Others in the Press.)_ + + * * * * * + + +A SELECTED LIST OF JUVENILE BOOKS + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s._ + +CHILDREN'S STORIES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE, from Shakespeare to +Tennyson. By H. C. WRIGHT. + + "A genial book."--_Speaker._ + + * * * * * + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5s._ + +BOYS' OWN STORIES. By ASCOTT R. 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HEROIC ADVENTURE: Exploration and Discovery. + + "The book is one we can thoroughly recommend."--_Christian._ + +6. GREAT MINDS IN ART. By WILLIAM TIREBUCK. + + "Told with accuracy and freshness."--_Globe._ + +7. GOOD MEN AND TRUE. By ALEX. H. JAPP. + + "Valuable and interesting records."--_Freeman._ + +8. THE LIVES OF ROBERT AND MARY MOFFAT. By their Son, JOHN SMITH +MOFFAT. + + "Eminently deserving of a permanent record. Mr. Moffat's + work is calculated to increase the veneration with which the + memory of the veteran missionary is regarded by + multitudes."--_Athenaeum._ + +9. FAMOUS MUSICAL COMPOSERS. By LYDIA J. MORRIS. + + "Makes a capital gift-book."--_Scotsman._ + + * * * * * + + +_"The best of all children's Magazines."_ + SPECTATOR. + +_St. Nicholas + For Young Folks._ + +CONDUCTED BY + +MARY MAPES DODGE + + * * * * * + +Price 1s. monthly. + + * * * * * + +SUITABLE FOR +CHILDREN OF BOTH SEXES, + CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, AND + CHILDREN OF ALL SIZES. + +Each Part contains 80 pp. of interesting matter, illustrated by about +50 high-class Engravings. + +_The Half-yearly Volumes, price 8s. each, are handsomely bound in red +cloth, gilt._ + + * * * * * + +LONDON: T. 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