{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_34453/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_34453","id":"gutenberg_34453","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34453","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Celts -- Folklore","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- Great Britain","Folklore -- Great Britain","Tales -- Great Britain"],"text":"\n\n\n\nProduced by David Edwards, Christine Aldridge and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_;\n \" in bold are surrounded by single =equals=;\n \" in bold Gothic font are surrounded by double ==equals==;\n\n2. A detailed list of typographical corrections and other transcription\n notes appears at the end of this e-text.\n\n3. A translation of the celtic passage below is thought to be:\n \"I sense the smell of a sweet lying Irishman on my home turf.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MORE CELTIC FAIRY TALES]\n\n\nMORE CELTIC\nFAIRY TALES\n\n\n_SAY THIS_\n\n_Three times, with your eyes shut_\n\n==Mothuighim boladh an Eireannaigh bhinn bhreugaigh\nfaoi m'fhoidin duthaigh.==\n\n_And you will see_\n_What you will see_\n\n\n[Illustration: .THE.GOLDEN.BIRD.FLIES.AWAY.WITH.THE.APPLE.]\n\n\n\n\nMORE CELTIC\nFAIRY TALES\n\n_SELECTED AND EDITED BY_\nJOSEPH JACOBS\nLATE EDITOR OF \"FOLK-LORE\"\n\n_ILLUSTRATED BY_\nJOHN D. BATTEN\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS\nLONDON: D. NUTT\n1895\n\n\n[_Rights of translation and reproduction reserved_]\n\n\n\n\n_To\nTHE MANY UNKNOWN\nLITTLE FRIENDS\nI HAVE MADE\nBY THE FORMER BOOKS\nOF THIS SERIES_\n\n\n\n\nPreface\n\n\nFor the last time, for the present, I give the children of the British\nIsles a selection of Fairy Tales once or still existing among them. The\nstory store of Great Britain and Ireland is, I hope, now adequately\nrepresented in the four volumes which have won me so many little\nfriends, and of which this is the last.\n\nMy collections have dealt with the two folk-lore regions of these Isles\non different scales. The \"English\" region, including Lowland Scotland\nand running up to the Highland line, is, I fancy, as fully represented\nin \"English\" and \"More English Fairy Tales\" as it is ever likely to be.\nBut the Celtic district, including the whole of Ireland and the\nGaelic-speaking part of Scotland, still offers a rich harvest to the\ncollector, and will not be exhausted for many a long day. The materials\nalready collected are far richer than those which the \"English\" region\nafford, and it has accordingly been my aim in the two volumes devoted\nto the Celts, rather to offer specimens of the crop than to exhaust the\nfield.\n\nIn the present volume I have proceeded on much the same lines as those\nwhich I laid down for myself in compiling its predecessor. In making my\nselection I have attempted to select the tales common both to Erin and\nAlba. I have included, as specimen of the Irish mediaeval hero tales, one\nof the three sorrowful tales of Erin: \"The Tale of the Children of Lir.\"\nFor the \"drolls\" or \"comic relief\" of the volume, I have again drawn\nupon the inexhaustible Kennedy, while the great J. F. Campbell still\nstands out as the most prominent figure in the history of the Celtic\nFairy Tale.\n\nIn my method of telling I have continued the practice which I adopted in\nthe previous volume: where I considered the language too complicated for\nchildren, I have simplified; where an incident from another parallel\nversion seemed to add force to the narrative I have inserted it; and in\neach case mentioned the fact in the corresponding notes. As former\nstatements of mine on this point have somewhat misled my folk-lore\nfriends, I should, perhaps, add that the alterations on this score have\nbeen much slighter than they have seemed, and have not affected anything\nof value to the science of folk-lore.\n\nI fear I am somewhat of a heretic with regard to the evidential value of\nfolk-tales regarded as _capita mortua_ of anthropology. The ready\ntransit of a folk-tale from one district to another of the same\nlinguistic area, robs it to my mind of any anthropological or\nethnographical value; but on this high topic I have discoursed\nelsewhere.\n\nThis book, like the others of this series, has only been rendered\npossible by the courtesy and complaisance of the various collectors from\nwhom I have culled my treasures. In particular, I have to thank Mr.\nLarminie and Mr. Eliot Stock for permission to include that fine tale\n\"Morraha\" from the former's \"West Irish Folk-tales,\" the chief addition\nto the Celtic store since the appearance of my last volume. I have again\nto thank Dr. Hyde for permission to use another tale from his delightful\ncollection. Mr. Curtin has been good enough to place at my disposal\nanother of the tales collected by him in Connaught, and my colleague,\nMr. Duncan, has translated for me a droll from the Erse. Above all, I\nhave to thank Mr. Alfred Nutt for constant supervision over my selection\nand over my comments upon it. Mr. Nutt, by his own researches, and by\nthe encouragement and aid he has given to the researches of others on\nCeltic folk-lore, has done much to replace the otherwise irreparable\nloss of Campbell.\n\nWith this volume I part, at any rate for a time, from the pleasant task\nwhich has engaged my attention for the last four years. For the\n\"English\" folk-lore district I have attempted to do what the brothers\nGrimm did for Germany, so far as that was possible at this late day. But\nfor the Celtic area I can claim no such high function; here the\nmaterials are so rich that it would tax the resources of a whole clan of\nGrimms to exhaust the field, and those Celtic Grimms must be Celts\nthemselves, or at any rate fully familiar with the Gaelic. Here then is\na task for the newly revived local patriotism of Ireland and the\nHighlands. I have done little more than spy the land, and bring back\nsome specimen bunches from the Celtic vine. It must be for others, Celts\nthemselves, to enter in and possess the promised land.\n\n JOSEPH JACOBS.\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n(FOR NOS. I.-XXVI., SEE \"CELTIC FAIRY TALES\")\n PAGE\n\n XXVII. THE FATE OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR 1\n\n XXVIII. JACK THE CUNNING THIEF 11\n\n XXIX. POWEL, PRINCE OF DYFED 26\n\n XXX. PADDY O'KELLY AND THE WEASEL 46\n\n XXXI. THE BLACK HORSE 57\n\n XXXII. THE VISION OF MACCONGLINNEY 67\n\n XXXIII. DREAM OF OWEN O'MULREADY 75\n\n XXXIV. MORRAHA 80\n\n XXXV. THE STORY OF THE MACANDREW FAMILY 97\n\n XXXVI. THE FARMER OF LIDDESDALE 106\n\n XXXVII. THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER 110\n\n XXXVIII. THE RUSSET DOG 125\n\n XXXIX. SMALLHEAD AND THE KING'S SONS 135\n\n XL. THE LEGEND OF KNOCKGRAFTON 156\n\n XLI. ELIDORE 164\n\n XLII. THE LEECHING OF KAYN'S LEG 169\n\n XLIII. HOW FIN WENT TO THE KINGDOM OF THE BIG MEN 194\n\n XLIV. HOW CORMAC MAC ART WENT TO FAERY 204\n\n XLV. THE RIDERE OF RIDDLES 210\n\n XLVI. THE TAIL 217\n\n\n NOTES AND REFERENCES 219\n\n\n\n\nFull-page Illustrations\n\n\n THE GOLDEN BIRD _Frontispiece_\n\n THE CHILDREN OF LIR _To face page_ 4\n\n THE BLACK HORSE \" 62\n\n MORRAHA \" 90\n\n THE GREEK PRINCESS \" 120\n\n THE BRIDGE OF BLOOD \" 138\n\n KOISHA KAYN \" 190\n\n WARNING TO READERS \" 218\n\n\n[Full-page illustrations, initials, and cuts from blocks supplied by\nMessrs. J. C. Drummond & Co.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe Fate of the Children of Lir\n\n\n[Illustration: I]\n\nIt happened that the five Kings of Ireland met to determine who should\nhave the head kingship over them, and King Lir of the Hill of the White\nField expected surely he would be elected. When the nobles went into\ncouncil together they chose for head king, Dearg, son of Daghda, because\nhis father had been so great a Druid and he was the eldest of his\nfather's sons. But Lir left the Assembly of the Kings and went home to\nthe Hill of the White Field. The other kings would have followed after\nLir to give him wounds of spear and wounds of sword for not yielding\nobedience to the man to whom they had given the over-lordship. But Dearg\nthe king would not hear of it and said: \"Rather let us bind him to us\nby the bonds of kinship, so that peace may dwell in the land. Send over\nto him for wife the choice of the three maidens of the fairest form and\nbest repute in Erin, the three daughters of Oilell of Aran, my own three\nbosom-nurslings.\"\n\nSo the messengers brought word to Lir that Dearg the king would give him\na foster-child of his foster-children. Lir thought well of it, and set\nout next day with fifty chariots from the Hill of the White Field. And\nhe came to the Lake of the Red Eye near Killaloe. And when Lir saw the\nthree daughters of Oilell, Dearg the king said to him: \"Take thy choice\nof the maidens, Lir.\" \"I know not,\" said Lir, \"which is the choicest of\nthem all; but the eldest of them is the noblest, it is she I had best\ntake.\" \"If so,\" said Dearg the king, \"Ove is the eldest, and she shall\nbe given to thee, if thou willest.\" So Lir and Ove were married and went\nback to the Hill of the White Field.\n\nAnd after this there came to them twins, a son and a daughter, and they\ngave them for names Fingula and Aod. And two more sons came to them,\nFiachra and Conn. When they came Ove died, and Lir mourned bitterly for\nher, and but for his great love for his children he would have died of\nhis grief. And Dearg the king grieved for Lir and sent to him and said:\n\"We grieve for Ove for thy sake; but, that our friendship may not be\nrent asunder, I will give unto thee her sister, Oifa, for a wife.\" So\nLir agreed, and they were united, and he took her with him to his own\nhouse. And at first Oifa felt affection and honour for the children of\nLir and her sister, and indeed every one who saw the four children could\nnot help giving them the love of his soul. Lir doted upon the children,\nand they always slept in beds in front of their father, who used to rise\nat early dawn every morning and lie down among his children. But\nthereupon the dart of jealousy passed into Oifa on account of this and\nshe came to regard the children with hatred and enmity. One day her\nchariot was yoked for her and she took with her the four children of Lir\nin it. Fingula was not willing to go with her on the journey, for she\nhad dreamed a dream in the night warning her against Oifa: but she was\nnot to avoid her fate. And when the chariot came to the Lake of the\nOaks, Oifa said to the people: \"Kill the four children of Lir and I will\ngive you your own reward of every kind in the world.\" But they refused\nand told her it was an evil thought she had. Then she would have raised\na sword herself to kill and destroy the children, but her own womanhood\nand her weakness prevented her; so she drove the children of Lir into\nthe lake to bathe, and they did as Oifa told them. As soon as they were\nupon the lake she struck them with a Druid's wand of spells and wizardry\nand put them into the forms of four beautiful, perfectly white swans,\nand she sang this song over them:\n\n \"Out with you upon the wild waves, children of the king!\n Henceforth your cries shall be with the flocks of birds.\"\n\nAnd Fingula answered:\n\n \"Thou witch! we know thee by thy right name!\n Thou mayest drive us from wave to wave,\n But sometimes we shall rest on the headlands;\n We shall receive relief, but thou punishment.\n Though our bodies may be upon the lake,\n Our minds at least shall fly homewards.\"\n\nAnd again she spoke: \"Assign an end for the ruin and woe which thou hast\nbrought upon us.\"\n\nOifa laughed and said: \"Never shall ye be free until the woman from the\nsouth be united to the man from the north, until Lairgnen of Connaught\nwed Deoch of Munster; nor shall any have power to bring you out of these\nforms. Nine hundred years shall you wander over the lakes and streams of\nErin. This only I will grant unto you: that you retain your own speech,\nand there shall be no music in the world equal to yours, the plaintive\nmusic you shall sing.\" This she said because repentance seized her for\nthe evil she had done.\n\nAnd then she spake this lay:\n\n \"Away from me, ye children of Lir,\n Henceforth the sport of the wild winds\n Until Lairgnen and Deoch come together,\n Until ye are on the north-west of Red Erin.\n\n \"A sword of treachery is through the heart of Lir,\n Of Lir the mighty champion,\n Yet though I have driven a sword.\n My victory cuts me to the heart.\"\n\nThen she turned her steeds and went on to the Hall of Dearg the king.\nThe nobles of the court asked her where were the children of Lir, and\nOifa said: \"Lir will not trust them to Dearg the king.\" But Dearg\nthought in his own mind that the woman had played some treachery upon\nthem, and he accordingly sent messengers to the Hall of the White Field.\n\nLir asked the messengers: \"Wherefore are ye come?\"\n\n\"To fetch thy children, Lir,\" said they.\n\n\"Have they not reached you with Oifa?\" said Lir.\n\n[Illustration: CHILDREN OF LIR]\n\n\"They have not,\" said the messengers; \"and Oifa said it was you would\nnot let the children go with her.\"\n\nThen was Lir melancholy and sad at heart, hearing these things, for he\nknew that Oifa had done wrong upon his children, and he set out towards\nthe Lake of the Red Eye. And when the children of Lir saw him coming\nFingula sang the lay:\n\n \"Welcome the cavalcade of steeds\n Approaching the Lake of the Red Eye,\n A company dread and magical\n Surely seek after us.\n\n \"Let us move to the shore, O Aod,\n Fiachra and comely Conn,\n No host under heaven can those horsemen be\n But King Lir with his mighty household.\"\n\nNow as she said this King Lir had come to the shores of the lake and\nheard the swans speaking with human voices. And he spake to the swans\nand asked them who they were. Fingula answered and said: \"We are thy own\nchildren, ruined by thy wife, sister of our own mother, through her ill\nmind and her jealousy.\" \"For how long is the spell to be upon you?\" said\nLir. \"None can relieve us till the woman from the south and the man from\nthe north come together, till Lairgnen of Connaught wed Deoch of\nMunster.\"\n\nThen Lir and his people raised their shouts of grief, crying, and\nlamentation, and they stayed by the shore of the lake listening to the\nwild music of the swans until the swans flew away, and King Lir went on\nto the Hall of Dearg the king. He told Dearg the king what Oifa had done\nto his children. And Dearg put his power upon Oifa and bade her say\nwhat shape on earth she would think the worst of all. She said it would\nbe in the form of an air-demon. \"It is into that form I shall put you,\"\nsaid Dearg the king, and he struck her with a Druid's wand of spells and\nwizardry and put her into the form of an air-demon. And she flew away at\nonce, and she is still an air-demon, and shall be so for ever.\n\nBut the children of Lir continued to delight the Milesian clans with the\nvery sweet fairy music of their songs, so that no delight was ever heard\nin Erin to compare with their music until the time came appointed for\nthe leaving the Lake of the Red Eye.\n\nThen Fingula sang this parting lay:\n\n \"Farewell to thee, Dearg the king,\n Master of all Druid's lore!\n Farewell to thee, our father dear,\n Lir of the Hill of the White Field!\n\n \"We go to pass the appointed time\n Away and apart from the haunts of men\n In the current of the Moyle,\n Our garb shall be bitter and briny,\n\n \"Until Deoch come to Lairgnen.\n So come, ye brothers of once ruddy cheeks;\n Let us depart from this Lake of the Red Eye,\n Let us separate in sorrow from the tribe that has loved us.\"\n\nAnd after they took to flight, flying highly, lightly, aerially till\nthey reached the Moyle, between Erin and Albain.\n\nThe men of Erin were grieved at their leaving, and it was proclaimed\nthroughout Erin that henceforth no swan should be killed. Then they\nstayed all solitary, all alone, filled with cold and grief and regret,\nuntil a thick tempest came upon them and Fingula said: \"Brothers, let\nus appoint a place to meet again if the power of the winds separate us.\"\nAnd they said: \"Let us appoint to meet, O sister, at the Rock of the\nSeals.\" Then the waves rose up and the thunder roared, the lightnings\nflashed, the sweeping tempest passed over the sea, so that the children\nof Lir were scattered from each other over the great sea. There came,\nhowever, a placid calm after the great tempest and Fingula found herself\nalone, and she said this lay:\n\n \"Woe upon me that I am alive!\n My wings are frozen to my sides.\n O beloved three, O beloved three,\n Who hid under the shelter of my feathers,\n Until the dead come back to the living\n I and the three shall never meet again!\"\n\nAnd she flew to the Lake of the Seals and soon saw Conn coming towards\nher with heavy step and drenched feathers, and Fiachra also, cold and\nwet and faint, and no word could they tell, so cold and faint were they:\nbut she nestled them under her wings and said: \"If Aod could come to us\nnow our happiness would be complete.\" But soon they saw Aod coming\ntowards them with dry head and preened feathers: Fingula put him under\nthe feathers of her breast, and Fiachra under her right wing, and Conn\nunder her left: and they made this lay:\n\n \"Bad was our stepmother with us,\n She played her magic on us,\n Sending us north on the sea\n In the shapes of magical swans.\n\n \"Our bath upon the shore's ridge\n Is the foam of the brine-crested tide,\n Our share of the ale feast\n Is the brine of the blue-crested sea.\"\n\nOne day they saw a splendid cavalcade of pure white steeds coming\ntowards them, and when they came near they were the two sons of Dearg\nthe king who had been seeking for them to give them news of Dearg the\nking and Lir their father. \"They are well,\" they said, \"and live\ntogether happy in all except that ye are not with them, and for not\nknowing where ye have gone since the day ye left the Lake of the Red\nEye.\" \"Happy are not we,\" said Fingula, and she sang this song:\n\n \"Happy this night the household of Lir,\n Abundant their meat and their wine.\n But the children of Lir--what is their lot?\n For bed-clothes we have our feathers,\n And as for our food and our wine--\n The white sand and the bitter brine,\n Fiachra's bed and Conn's place\n Under the cover of my wings on the Moyle,\n Aod has the shelter of my breast,\n And so side by side we rest.\"\n\nSo the sons of Dearg the king came to the Hall of Lir and told the king\nthe condition of his children.\n\nThen the time came for the children of Lir to fulfil their lot, and they\nflew in the current of the Moyle to the Bay of Erris, and remained there\ntill the time of their fate, and then they flew to the Hill of the White\nField and found all desolate and empty, with nothing but unroofed green\nraths and forests of nettles--no house, no fire, no dwelling-place. The\nfour came close together, and they raised three shouts of lamentation\naloud, and Fingula sang this lay:\n\n \"Uchone! it is bitterness to my heart\n To see my father's place forlorn--\n No hounds, no packs of dogs,\n No women, and no valiant kings.\n\n \"No drinking-horns, no cups of wood,\n No drinking in its lightsome halls.\n Uchone! I see the state of this house\n That its lord our father lives no more.\n\n \"Much have we suffered in our wandering years,\n By winds buffeted, by cold frozen;\n Now has come the greatest of our pain--\n There lives no man who knoweth us in the house\n where we were born.\"\n\nSo the children of Lir flew away to the Glory Isle of Brandan the saint,\nand they settled upon the Lake of the Birds until the holy Patrick came\nto Erin and the holy Mac Howg came to Glory Isle.\n\nAnd the first night he came to the island the children of Lir heard the\nvoice of his bell ringing for matins, so that they started and leaped\nabout in terror at hearing it; and her brothers left Fingula alone.\n\"What is it, beloved brothers?\" said she. \"We know not what faint,\nfearful voice it is we have heard.\" Then Fingula recited this lay:\n\n \"Listen to the Cleric's bell,\n Poise your wings and raise\n Thanks to God for his coming,\n Be grateful that you hear him.\n\n \"He shall free you from pain,\n And bring you from the rocks and stones.\n Ye comely children of Lir\n Listen to the bell of the Cleric.\"\n\nAnd Mac Howg came down to the brink of the shore and said to them: \"Are\nye the children of Lir?\" \"We are indeed,\" said they. \"Thanks be to God!\"\nsaid the saint; \"it is for your sakes I have come to this Isle beyond\nevery other island in Erin. Come ye to land now and put your trust in\nme.\" So they came to land, and he made for them chains of bright white\nsilver, and put a chain between Aod and Fingula and a chain between Conn\nand Fiachra.\n\nIt happened at this time that Lairgnen was prince of Connaught and he\nwas to wed Deoch the daughter of the king of Munster. She had heard the\naccount of the birds and she became filled with love and affection for\nthem, and she said she would not wed till she had the wondrous birds of\nGlory Isle. Lairgnen sent for them to the Saint Mac Howg. But the Saint\nwould not give them, and both Lairgnen and Deoch went to Glory Isle. And\nLairgnen went to seize the birds from the altar: but as soon as he had\nlaid hands on them their feathery coats fell off, and the three sons of\nLir became three withered bony old men, and Fingula, a lean withered old\nwoman without blood or flesh. Lairgnen started at this and left the\nplace hastily, but Fingula chanted this lay:\n\n \"Come and baptise us, O Cleric,\n Clear away our stains!\n This day I see our grave--\n Fiachra and Conn on each side,\n And in my lap, between my two arms,\n Place Aod, my beauteous brother.\"\n\nAfter this lay, the children of Lir were baptised. And they died, and\nwere buried as Fingula had said, Fiachra and Conn on either side, and\nAod before her face. A cairn was raised for them, and on it their names\nwere written in runes. And that is the fate of the children of Lir.\n\n\n\n\nJack the Cunning Thief\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was a poor farmer who had three sons, and on the same day the\nthree boys went to seek their fortune. The eldest two were sensible,\nindustrious young men; the youngest never did much at home that was any\nuse. He loved to be setting snares for rabbits, and tracing hares in the\nsnow, and inventing all sorts of funny tricks to annoy people at first\nand then set them laughing.\n\nThe three parted at cross-roads, and Jack took the lonesomest. The day\nturned out rainy, and he was wet and weary, you may depend, at\nnightfall, when he came to a lonesome house a little off the road.\n\n\"What do you want?\" said a blear-eyed old woman, that was sitting at the\nfire.\n\n\"My supper and a bed to be sure,\" said he.\n\n\"You can't get it,\" said she.\n\n\"What's to hinder me?\" said he.\n\n\"The owners of the house is,\" said she, \"six honest men that does be out\nmostly till three or four o'clock in the morning, and if they find you\nhere they'll skin you alive at the very least.\"\n\n\"Well, I think,\" said Jack, \"that their very most couldn't be much\nworse. Come, give me something out of the cupboard, for here I'll stay.\nSkinning is not much worse than catching your death of cold in a ditch\nor under a tree such a night as this.\"\n\n_Begonins_ she got afraid, and gave him a good supper; and when he was\ngoing to bed he said if she let any of the six honest men disturb him\nwhen they came home she'd sup sorrow for it. When he awoke in the\nmorning, there were six ugly-looking spalpeens standing round his bed.\nHe leaned on his elbow, and looked at them with great contempt.\n\n\"Who are you,\" said the chief, \"and what's your business?\"\n\n\"My name,\" says he, \"is Master Thief, and my business just now is to\nfind apprentices and workmen. If I find you any good, maybe I'll give\nyou a few lessons.\"\n\nBedad they were a little cowed, and says the head man, \"Well, get up,\nand after breakfast, we'll see who is to be the master, and who the\njourneyman.\"\n\nThey were just done breakfast, when what should they see but a farmer\ndriving a fine large goat to market. \"Will any of you,\" says Jack,\n\"undertake to steal that goat from the owner before he gets out of the\nwood, and that without the smallest violence?\"\n\n\"I couldn't do it,\" says one; and \"I couldn't do it,\" says another.\n\n\"I'm your master,\" says Jack, \"and I'll do it.\"\n\nHe slipped out, went through the trees to where there was a bend in the\nroad, and laid down his right brogue in the very middle of it. Then he\nran on to another bend, and laid down his left brogue and went and hid\nhimself.\n\nWhen the farmer sees the first brogue, he says to himself, \"That would\nbe worth something if it had the fellow, but it is worth nothing by\nitself.\"\n\nHe goes on till he comes to the second brogue.\n\n\"What a fool I was,\" says he, \"not to pick up the other! I'll go back\nfor it.\"\n\nSo he tied the goat to a sapling in the hedge, and returned for the\nbrogue. But Jack, who was behind a tree had it already on his foot, and\nwhen the man was beyond the bend he picked up the other and loosened the\ngoat, and led him off through the wood.\n\nOchone! the poor man couldn't find the first brogue, and when he came\nback he couldn't find the second, nor neither his goat.\n\n\"_Mile mollacht_!\" says he, \"what will I do after promising Johanna to\nbuy her a shawl. I must only go and drive another beast to the market\nunknownst. I'd never hear the last of it if Joan found out what a fool I\nmade of myself.\"\n\nThe thieves were in great admiration at Jack, and wanted him to tell\nthem how he had done the farmer, but he wouldn't tell them.\n\nBy-and-by, they see the poor man driving a fine fat wether the same way.\n\n\"Who'll steal that wether,\" says Jack, \"before it's out of the wood, and\nno roughness used?\"\n\n\"I couldn't,\" says one; and \"I couldn't,\" says another.\n\n\"I'll try,\" says Jack. \"Give me a good rope.\"\n\nThe poor farmer was jogging along and thinking of his misfortune, when\nhe sees a man hanging from the bough of a tree. \"Lord save us!\" says he,\n\"the corpse wasn't there an hour ago.\" He went on about half a quarter\nof a mile, and, there was another corpse again hanging over the road.\n\"God between us and harm,\" said he, \"am I in my right senses?\" There was\nanother turn about the same distance, and just beyond it the third\ncorpse was hanging. \"Oh, murdher!\" said he; \"I'm beside myself. What\nwould bring three hung men so near one another? I must be mad. I'll go\nback and see if the others are there still.\"\n\nHe tied the wether to a sapling, and back he went. But when he was round\nthe bend, down came the corpse, and loosened the wether, and drove it\nhome through the wood to the robbers' house. You all may think how the\npoor farmer felt when he could find no one dead or alive going or\ncoming, nor his wether, nor the rope that fastened him. \"Oh,\nmisfortunate day!\" cried he, \"what'll Joan say to me now? My morning\ngone, and the goat and wether lost! I must sell something to make the\nprice of the shawl. Well, the fat bullock is in the nearest field. She\nwon't see me taking it.\"\n\nWell, if the robbers were not surprised when Jack came into the bawn\nwith the wether! \"If you do another trick like this,\" said the captain,\n\"I'll resign the command to you.\"\n\nThey soon saw the farmer going by again, driving a fat bullock this\ntime.\n\n\"Who'll bring that fat bullock here,\" says Jack, \"and use no violence?\"\n\n\"I couldn't,\" says one; and \"I couldn't,\" says another.\n\n\"I'll try,\" says Jack, and away he went into the wood.\n\nThe farmer was about the spot where he saw the first brogue, when he\nheard the bleating of a goat off at his right in the wood.\n\nHe cocked his ears, and the next thing he heard was the maaing of a\nsheep.\n\n\"Blood alive!\" says he, \"maybe these are my own that I lost.\" There was\nmore bleating and more maaing. \"There they are as sure as a gun,\" says\nhe, and he tied his bullock to a sapling that grew in the hedge, and\naway he went into the wood. When he got near the place where the cries\ncame from, he heard them a little before him, and on he followed them.\nAt last, when he was about half a mile from the spot where he tied the\nbeast, the cries stopped altogether. After searching and searching till\nhe was tired, he returned for his bullock; but there wasn't the ghost of\na bullock there, nor any where else that he searched.\n\nThis time, when the thieves saw Jack and his prize coming into the bawn,\nthey couldn't help shouting out, \"Jack must be our chief.\" So there was\nnothing but feasting and drinking hand to fist the rest of the day.\nBefore they went to bed, they showed Jack the cave where their money was\nhid, and all their disguises in another cave, and swore obedience to\nhim.\n\nOne morning, when they were at breakfast, about a week after, said they\nto Jack, \"Will you mind the house for us to-day while we are at the fair\nof Mochurry? We hadn't a spree for ever so long: you must get your turn\nwhenever you like.\"\n\n\"Never say't twice,\" says Jack, and off they went. After they were gone\nsays Jack to the wicked housekeeper, \"Do these fellows ever make you a\npresent?\"\n\n\"Ah, catch them at it! indeed, and they don't, purshuin to 'em.\"\n\n\"Well, come along with me, and I'll make you a rich woman.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe took her to the treasure cave; and while she was in raptures, gazing\nat the heaps of gold and silver, Jack filled his pockets as full as they\ncould hold, put more into a little bag, and walked out, locking the door\non the old hag, and leaving the key in the lock. He then put on a rich\nsuit of clothes, took the goat, and the wether, and the bullock, and\ndrove them before him to the farmer's house.\n\nJoan and her husband were at the door; and when they saw the animals,\nthey clapped their hands and laughed for joy.\n\n\"Do you know who owns them bastes, neighbours?\"\n\n\"Maybe we don't! sure they're ours.\"\n\n\"I found them straying in the wood. Is that bag with ten guineas in it\nthat's hung round the goat's neck yours?\"\n\n\"Faith, it isn't.\"\n\n\"Well, you may as well keep it for a Godsend; I don't want it.\"\n\n\"Heaven be in your road, good gentleman!\"\n\nJack travelled on till he came to his father's house in the dusk of the\nevening. He went in. \"God save all here!\"\n\n\"God save you kindly, sir!\"\n\n\"Could I have a night's lodging here?\"\n\n\"Oh, sir, our place isn't fit for the likes of a gentleman such as you.\"\n\n\"Oh, _musha_, don't you know your own son?\"\n\nWell, they opened their eyes, and it was only a strife to see who'd have\nhim in their arms first.\n\n\"But, Jack asthore, where did you get the fine clothes?\"\n\n\"Oh, you may as well ask me where I got all that money?\" said he,\nemptying his pockets on the table.\n\nWell, they got in a great fright, but when he told them his adventures,\nthey were easier in mind, and all went to bed in great content.\n\n\"Father,\" says Jack, next morning, \"go over to the landlord, and tell\nhim I wish to be married to his daughter.\"\n\n\"Faith, I'm afraid he'd only set the dogs at me. If he asks me how you\nmade your money, what'll I say?\"\n\n\"Tell him I am a master thief, and that there is no one equal to me in\nthe three kingdoms; that I am worth a thousand pounds, and all taken\nfrom the biggest rogues unhanged. Speak to him when the young lady is\nby.\"\n\n\"It's a droll message you're sending me on: I'm afraid it won't end\nwell.\"\n\nThe old man came back in two hours.\n\n\"Well, what news?\"\n\n\"Droll news, enough. The lady didn't seem a bit unwilling: I suppose\nit's not the first time you spoke to her; and the squire laughed, and\nsaid you would have to steal the goose off o' the spit in his kitchen\nnext Sunday, and he'd see about it.\"\n\n\"O! that won't be hard, any way.\"\n\nNext Sunday, after the people came from early Mass, the squire and all\nhis people were in the kitchen, and the goose turning before the fire.\nThe kitchen door opened, and a miserable old beggar man with a big\nwallet on his back put in his head.\n\n\"Would the mistress have anything for me when dinner is over, your\nhonour?\"\n\n\"To be sure. We have no room here for you just now; sit in the porch for\na while.\"\n\n\"God bless your honour's family, and yourself!\"\n\nSoon some one that was sitting near the window cried out, \"Oh, sir,\nthere's a big hare scampering like the divil round the bawn. Will we run\nout and pin him?\"\n\n\"Pin a hare indeed! much chance you'd have; sit where you are.\"\n\nThat hare made his escape into the garden, but Jack that was in the\nbeggar's clothes soon let another out of the bag.\n\n\"Oh, master, there he is still pegging round. He can't make his escape:\nlet us have a chase. The hall door is locked on the inside, and Mr. Jack\ncan't get in.\"\n\n\"Stay quiet, I tell you.\"\n\nIn a few minutes he shouted out again that the hare was there still, but\nit was the third that Jack was just after giving its liberty. Well, by\nthe laws, they couldn't be kept in any longer. Out pegged every mother's\nson of them, and the squire after them.\n\n\"Will I turn the spit, your honour, while they're catching the\n_hareyeen_?\" says the beggar.\n\n\"Do, and don't let any one in for your life.\"\n\n\"Faith, an' I won't, you may depend on it.\"\n\nThe third hare got away after the others, and when they all came back\nfrom the hunt, there was neither beggar nor goose in the kitchen.\n\n\"Purshuin' to you, Jack,\" says the landlord, \"you've come over me this\ntime.\"\n\nWell, while they were thinking of making out another dinner, a messenger\ncame from Jack's father to beg that the squire, and the mistress, and\nthe young lady would step across the fields, and take share of what God\nsent. There was no dirty mean pride about the family, and they walked\nover, and got a dinner with roast turkey, and roast beef, and their own\nroast goose; and the squire had like to burst his waistcoat with\nlaughing at the trick, and Jack's good clothes and good manners did not\ntake away any liking the young lady had for him already.\n\nWhile they were taking their punch at the old oak table in the nice\nclean little parlour with the sanded floor, says the squire, \"You can't\nbe sure of my daughter, Jack, unless you steal away my six horses from\nunder the six men that will be watching them to-morrow night in the\nstable.\"\n\n\"I'll do more than that,\" says Jack, \"for a pleasant look from the young\nlady\"; and the young lady's cheeks turned as red as fire.\n\nMonday night the six horses were in their stalls, and a man on every\nhorse, and a good glass of whisky under every man's waistcoat, and the\ndoor was left wide open for Jack. They were merry enough for a long\ntime, and joked and sung, and were pitying the poor fellow. But the\nsmall hours crept on, and the whisky lost its power, and they began to\nshiver and wish it was morning. A miserable old colliach, with half a\ndozen bags round her, and a beard half an inch long on her chin came to\nthe door.\n\n\"Ah, then, tendher-hearted Christians,\" says she, \"would you let me in,\nand allow me a wisp of straw in the corner; the life will be froze out\nof me, if you don't give me shelter.\"\n\nWell, they didn't see any harm in that, and she made herself as snug as\nshe could, and they soon saw her pull out a big black bottle, and take a\nsup. She coughed and smacked her lips, and seemed a little more\ncomfortable, and the men couldn't take their eyes off her.\n\n\"Gorsoon,\" says she, \"I'd offer you a drop of this, only you might think\nit too free-making.\"\n\n\"Oh, hang all impedent pride,\" says one, \"we'll take it, and thankee.\"\n\nSo she gave them the bottle, and they passed it round, and the last man\nhad the manners to leave half a glass in the bottom for the old woman.\nThey all thanked her, and said it was the best drop ever passed their\ntongue.\n\n\"In throth, agras,\" said she, \"it's myself that's glad to show how I\nvalue your kindness in giving me shelter; I'm not without another\n_buideal_, and you may pass it round while myself finishes what the\ndasent man left me.\"\n\nWell, what they drank out of the other bottle only gave them a relish\nfor more, and by the time the last man got to the bottom, the first man\nwas dead asleep in the saddle, for the second bottle had a sleepy posset\nmixed with the whisky. The beggar woman lifted each man down, and laid\nhim in the manger, or under the manger, snug and sausty, drew a stocking\nover every horse's hoof, and led them away without any noise to one of\nJack's father's outhouses. The first thing the squire saw next morning\nwas Jack riding up the avenue, and five horses stepping after the one he\nrode.\n\n\"Confound you, Jack!\" says he, \"and confound the numskulls that let you\noutwit them!\"\n\nHe went out to the stable, and didn't the poor fellows look very lewd o'\nthemselves, when they could be woke up in earnest!\n\n\"After all,\" says the squire, when they were sitting at breakfast, \"it\nwas no great thing to outwit such ninny-hammers. I'll be riding out on\nthe common from one to three to-day, and if you can outwit me of the\nbeast I'll be riding, I'll say you deserve to be my son-in-law.\"\n\n\"I'd do more than that,\" says Jack, \"for the honour, if there was no\nlove at all in the matter,\" and the young lady held up her saucer before\nher face.\n\nWell, the squire kept riding about and riding about till he was tired,\nand no sign of Jack. He was thinking of going home at last, when what\nshould he see but one of his servants running from the house as if he\nwas mad.\n\n\"Oh masther, masther,\" says he, as far as he could be heard, \"fly home\nif you wish to see the poor mistress alive! I'm running for the surgeon.\nShe fell down two flights of stairs, and her neck, or her hips, or both\nher arms are broke, and she's speechless, and it's a mercy if you find\nthe breath in her. Fly as fast as the baste will carry you.\"\n\n\"But hadn't you better take the horse? It's a mile and a half to the\nsurgeon's.\"\n\n\"Oh, anything you like, master. Oh, _Vuya, Vuya!_ misthress _alanna_,\nthat I should ever see the day! and your purty body disfigured as it\nis!\"\n\n\"Here, stop your noise, and be off like wildfire! Oh, my darling, my\ndarling, isn't this a trial?\"\n\nHe tore home like a fury, and wondered to see no stir outside, and when\nhe flew into the hall, and from that to the parlour, his wife and\ndaughter that were sewing at the table screeched out at the rush he\nmade, and the wild look that was on his face.\n\n\"Oh, my darling!\" said he, when he could speak, \"how's this? Are you\nhurt? Didn't you fall down the stairs? What happened at all? Tell me!\"\n\n\"Why, nothing at all happened, thank God, since you rode out; where did\nyou leave the horse?\"\n\nWell, no one could describe the state he was in for about a quarter of\nan hour, between joy for his wife and anger with Jack, and _sharoose_\nfor being tricked. He saw the beast coming up the avenue, and a little\ngorsoon in the saddle with his feet in the stirrup leathers. The servant\ndidn't make his appearance for a week; but what did he care with Jack's\nten golden guineas in his pocket.\n\nJack didn't show his nose till next morning, and it was a queer\nreception he met.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"That was all foul play you gave,\" says the squire. \"I'll never forgive\nyou for the shock you gave me. But then I am so happy ever since, that I\nthink I'll give you only one trial more. If you will take away the sheet\nfrom under my wife and myself to-night, the marriage may take place\nto-morrow.\"\n\n\"We'll try,\" says Jack, \"but if you keep my bride from me any longer,\nI'll steal her away if she was minded by fiery dragons.\"\n\nWhen the squire and his wife were in bed, and the moon shining in\nthrough the window, he saw a head rising over the sill to have a peep,\nand then bobbing down again.\n\n\"That's Jack,\" says the squire; \"I'll astonish him a bit,\" says the\nsquire, pointing a gun at the lower pane.\n\n\"Oh Lord, my dear!\" says the wife, \"sure, you wouldn't shoot the brave\nfellow?\"\n\n\"Indeed, an' I wouldn't for a kingdom; there's nothing but powder in\nit.\"\n\nUp went the head, bang went the gun, down dropped the body, and a great\nsouse was heard on the gravel walk.\n\n\"Oh, Lord,\" says the lady, \"poor Jack is killed or disabled for life.\"\n\n\"I hope not,\" says the squire, and down the stairs he ran. He never\nminded to shut the door, but opened the gate and ran into the garden.\nHis wife heard his voice at the room door, before he could be under the\nwindow and back, as she thought.\n\n\"Wife, wife,\" says he from the door, \"the sheet, the sheet! He is not\nkilled, I hope, but he is bleeding like a pig. I must wipe it away as\nwell as I can, and get some one to carry him in with me.\" She pulled it\noff the bed, and threw it to him. Down he ran like lightning, and he had\nhardly time to be in the garden, when he was back, and this time he came\nback in his shirt, as he went out.\n\n\"High hanging to you, Jack,\" says he, \"for an arrant rogue!\"\n\n\"Arrant rogue?\" says she, \"isn't the poor fellow all cut and bruised?\"\n\n\"I didn't much care if he was. What do you think was bobbing up and\ndown at the window, and sossed down so heavy on the walk? A man's\nclothes stuffed with straw, and a couple of stones.\"\n\n\"And what did you want with the sheet just now, to wipe his blood if he\nwas only a man of straw?\"\n\n\"Sheet, woman! I wanted no sheet.\"\n\n\"Well, whether you wanted it or not, I threw it to you, and you standing\noutside o' the door.\"\n\n\"Oh, Jack, Jack, you terrible tinker!\" says the squire, \"there's no use\nin striving with you. We must do without the sheet for one night. We'll\nhave the marriage to-morrow to get ourselves out of trouble.\"\n\nSo married they were, and Jack turned out a real good husband. And the\nsquire and his lady were never tired of praising their son-in-law, \"Jack\nthe Cunning Thief.\"\n\n\n\n\nPowel, Prince of Dyfed.\n\n\n[Illustration: P]\n\nPowel, Prince of Dyfed, was lord of the seven Cantrevs of Dyfed; and\nonce upon a time Powel was at Narberth, his chief palace, where a feast\nhad been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. And\nafter the first meal, Powel arose to walk, and he went to the top of a\nmound that was above the palace, and was called Gorseth Arberth.\n\n\"Lord,\" said one of the court, \"it is peculiar to the mound that\nwhosoever sits upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds\nor blows, or else seeing a wonder.\"\n\n\"I fear not to receive wounds and blows in the midst of such a host as\nthis; but as to the wonder, gladly would I see it. I will go, therefore,\nand sit upon the mound.\"\n\nAnd upon the mound he sat. And while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a\npure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around\nher, coming along the highway that led from the mound; and the horse\nseemed to move at a slow and even pace, and to be coming up towards the\nmound.\n\n\"My men,\" said Powel, \"is there any among you who knows yonder lady?\"\n\n\"There is not, lord,\" said they.\n\n\"Go one of you and meet her, that we may know who she is.\"\n\nAnd one of them arose; and as he came upon the road to meet her she\npassed by, and he followed as fast as he could, being on foot; and the\ngreater was his speed, the farther was she from him. And when he saw\nthat it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to Powel, and\nsaid unto him, \"Lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her\non foot.\"\n\n\"Verily,\" said Powel, \"go unto the palace, and take the fleetest horse\nthat thou seest, and go after her.\"\n\nAnd he took a horse and went forward. And he came to an open level\nplain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the\nfarther was she from him. Yet she held the same pace as at first. And\nhis horse began to fail; and when his horse's feet failed him, he\nreturned to the place where Powel was.\n\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"it will avail nothing for any one to follow yonder\nlady. I know of no horse in these realms swifter than this, and it\navailed me not to pursue her.\"\n\n\"Of a truth,\" said Powel, \"there must be some illusion here. Let us go\ntowards the palace.\" So to the palace they went, and they spent that\nday. And the next day they arose, and that also they spent until it was\ntime to go to meat. And after the first meal, \"Verily,\" said Powel, \"we\nwill go, the same party as yesterday, to the top of the mound. Do thou,\"\nsaid he to one of his young men, \"take the swiftest horse that thou\nknowest in the field.\" And thus did the young man. They went towards the\nmound, taking the horse with them. And as they were sitting down they\nbeheld the lady on the same horse, and in the same apparel, coming along\nthe same road. \"Behold,\" said Powel, \"here is the lady of yesterday.\nMake ready, youth, to learn who she is.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said he \"that will I gladly do.\" And thereupon the lady came\nopposite to them. So the youth mounted his horse; and before he had\nsettled himself in his saddle, she passed by, and there was a clear\nspace between them. But her speed was no greater than it had been the\nday before. Then he put his horse into an amble, and thought, that,\nnotwithstanding the gentle pace at which his horse went, he should soon\novertake her. But this availed him not: so he gave his horse the reins.\nAnd still he came no nearer to her than when he went at a foot's pace.\nThe more he urged his horse, the farther was she from him. Yet she rode\nnot faster than before. When he saw that it availed not to follow her,\nhe returned to the place where Powel was. \"Lord,\" said he, \"the horse\ncan no more than thou hast seen.\"\n\n\"I see indeed that it avails not that any one should follow her. And by\nHeaven,\" said he, \"she must needs have an errand to some one in this\nplain, if her haste would allow her to declare it. Let us go back to the\npalace.\" And to the palace they went, and they spent that night in songs\nand feasting, as it pleased them.\n\nThe next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat. And\nwhen meat was ended, Powel said, \"Where are the hosts that went\nyesterday and the day before to the top of the mound?\"\n\n\"Behold, lord, we are here,\" said they.\n\n\"Let us go,\" said he, \"to the mound to sit there. And do thou,\" said he\nto the page who tended his horse, \"saddle my horse well, and hasten with\nhim to the road, and bring also my spurs with thee.\" And the youth did\nthus. They went and sat upon the mound. And ere they had been there but\na short time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the\nsame manner, and at the same pace. \"Young man,\" said Powel, \"I see the\nlady coming: give me my horse.\" And no sooner had he mounted his horse\nthan she passed him. And he turned after her, and followed her. And he\nlet his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that at the second step\nor the third he should come up with her. But he came no nearer to her\nthan at first. Then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he found\nthat it availed nothing to follow her. Then said Powel, \"O maiden, for\nthe sake of him who thou best lovest, stay for me.\"\n\n\"I will stay gladly,\" said she, \"and it were better for thy horse hadst\nthou asked it long since.\" So the maiden stopped, and she threw back\nthat part of her head-dress which covered her face. And she fixed her\neyes upon him, and began to talk with him.\n\n\"Lady,\" asked he, \"whence comest thou, and whereunto dost thou journey?\"\n\n\"I journey on mine own errand,\" said she, \"and right glad am I to see\nthee.\"\n\n\"My greeting be unto thee,\" said he. Then he thought that the beauty of\nall the maidens, and all the ladies that he had ever seen, was as\nnothing compared to her beauty. \"Lady,\" he said, \"wilt thou tell me\naught concerning thy purpose?\"\n\n\"I will tell thee,\" said she. \"My chief quest was to seek thee.\"\n\n\"Behold,\" said Powel, \"this is to me the most pleasing quest on which\nthou couldst have come. And wilt thou tell me who thou art?\"\n\n[Illustration: .I.JOURNEY.ON.MINE.OWN.ERRAND.]\n\n\"I will tell thee, lord,\" said she. \"I am Rhiannon, the daughter of\nHeveyth Hen, and they sought to give me to a husband against my will.\nBut no husband would I have, and that because of my love for thee,\nneither will I yet have one unless thou reject me. And hither have I\ncome to hear thy answer.\"\n\n\"By Heaven,\" said Powel, \"behold this is my answer. If I might choose\namong all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would I choose.\"\n\n\"Verily,\" said she, \"if thou art thus minded, make a pledge to meet me\nere I am given to another.\"\n\n\"The sooner I may do so, the more pleasing will it be unto me,\" said\nPowel, \"and wheresoever thou wilt, there will I meet with thee.\"\n\n\"I will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth, at the palace of\nHeveyth. And I will cause a feast to be prepared, so that it be ready\nagainst thou come.\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said he, \"will I keep this tryst.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said she, \"remain in health, and be mindful that thou keep thy\npromise. And now I will go hence.\"\n\nSo they parted, and he went back to his hosts and to them of his\nhousehold. And whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the\ndamsel, he always turned the discourse upon other matters. And when a\nyear from that time was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip\nthemselves, and to go with him to the palace of Heveyth Hen. And he came\nto the palace, and there was great joy concerning him, with much\nconcourse of people, and great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his\ncoming. And the whole court was placed under his orders.\n\nAnd the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus did they\nsit; Heveyth Hen was on one side of Powel, and Rhiannon on the other.\nAnd all the rest according to their rank. And they ate and feasted and\ntalked, one with another; and at the beginning of the carousal after\nthe meat, there entered a tall auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing,\nclothed in a garment of satin. And when he came into the hall he saluted\nPowel and his companions.\n\n\"The greeting of Heaven be unto thee, my soul,\" said Powel. \"Come thou\nand sit down.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said he, \"a suitor am I; and I will do mine errand.\"\n\n\"Do so willingly,\" said Powel.\n\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"my errand is unto thee; and it is to crave a boon of\nthee that I come.\"\n\n\"What boon soever thou mayest ask of me, as far as I am able, thou shalt\nhave.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Rhiannon, \"wherefore didst thou give that answer?\"\n\n\"Has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?\" asked the\nyouth.\n\n\"My soul,\" said Powel, \"what is the boon thou askest?\"\n\n\"The lady whom best I love is to be thy bride this night; I come to ask\nher of thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place.\"\n\nAnd Powel was silent because of the answer which he had given.\n\n\"Be silent as long as thou wilt,\" said Rhiannon. \"Never did man make\nworse use of his wits than thou hast done.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said he, \"I knew not who he was.\"\n\n\"Behold, this is the man to whom they would have given me against my\nwill,\" said she. \"And he is Gwawl the son of Clud, a man of great power\nand wealth; and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon\nhim, lest shame befall thee.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said he, \"I understand not thine answer. Never can I do as thou\nsayest.\"\n\n\"Bestow me upon him,\" said she, \"and I will cause that I shall never be\nhis.\"\n\n\"By what means will that be?\" said Powel.\n\n\"In thy hand will I give thee a small bag,\" said she. \"See that thou\nkeep it well, and he will ask of thee the banquet and the feast, and the\npreparations, which are not in thy power. Unto the hosts and the\nhousehold will I give the feast. And such will be thy answer respecting\nthis. And as concerns myself, I will engage to become his bride this\nnight twelvemonth. And at the end of the year be thou here,\" said she,\n\"and bring this bag with thee and let thy hundred knights be in the\norchard up yonder. And when he is in the midst of joy and feasting, come\nthou in by thyself, clad in ragged garments, and holding thy bag in thy\nhand, and ask nothing but a bagful of food: and I will cause that if all\nthe meat and liquor that are in these seven cantrevs were put into it,\nit would be no fuller than before. And after a great deal has been put\ntherein, he will ask thee whether thy bag will ever be full. Say thou\nthen that it never will, until a man of noble birth and of great wealth\narise and press the food in the bag with both his feet, saying, 'Enough\nhas been put therein.' And I will cause him to go and tread down the\nfood in the bag, and when he does so, turn thou the bag, so that he\nshall be up over his head in it, and then slip a knot upon the thongs of\nthe bag. Let there be also a good bugle-horn about thy neck, and as soon\nas thou hast bound him in the bag, wind thy horn, and let it be a signal\nbetween thee and thy knights. And when they hear the sound of the horn,\nlet them come down upon the palace.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said Gwawl, \"it is meet that I have an answer to my request.\"\n\n\"As much of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou\nshalt have,\" replied Powel.\n\n\"My soul,\" said Rhiannon unto him, \"as for the feast and the banquet\nthat are here, I have bestowed them upon the men of Dyved, and the\nhousehold, and the warriors that are with us. These can I not suffer to\nbe given to any. In a year from to-night a banquet shall be prepared for\nthee in this palace, that I may become thy bride.\"\n\nSo Gwawl went forth to his possessions, and Powel went also back to\nDyved. And they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast\nat the palace of Heveyth Hen. Then Gwawl the son of Clud set out to the\nfeast that was prepared for him, and he came to the palace and was\nreceived there with rejoicing. Powel also, the chief of Annuvyn, came to\nthe orchard with his hundred knights, as Rhiannon had commanded him,\nhaving the bag with him. And Powel was clad in coarse and ragged\ngarments, and wore large clumsy old shoes upon his feet. And when he\nknew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went towards the\nhall, and when he came into the hall, he saluted Gwawl the son of Clud,\nand his company, both men and women.\n\n\"Heaven prosper thee!\" said Gwawl, \"and the greeting of Heaven be unto\nthee!\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"may Heaven reward thee! I have an errand unto thee.\"\n\n\"Welcome be thine errand, and, if thou ask of me that which is just,\nthou shalt have it gladly.\"\n\n\"It is fitting,\" answered he. \"I crave but from want; and the boon that\nI ask is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat.\"\n\n\"A request within reason is this,\" said he, \"and gladly shalt thou have\nit. Bring him food.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nA great number of attendants arose, and began to fill the bag; but for\nall that they put into it, it was no fuller than at first.\n\n\"My soul,\" said Gwawl, \"will thy bag be ever full?\"\n\n\"It will not, I declare to Heaven,\" said he, \"for all that may be put\ninto it, unless one possessed of lands and domains and treasure shall\narise, and tread down with both his feet the food which is within the\nbag, and shall say, 'Enough has been put herein.'\"\n\nThen said Rhiannon unto Gwawl the son of Clud, \"Rise up quickly.\"\n\n\"I will willingly arise,\" said he. So he rose up, and put his two feet\ninto the bag. And Powel turned up the sides of the bag, so that Gwawl\nwas over his head in it. And he shut it up quickly, and slipped a knot\nupon the thongs, and blew his horn. And thereupon behold his household\ncame down upon the palace. And they seized all the host that had come\nwith Gwawl, and cast them into his own prison. And Powel threw off his\nrags, and his old shoes, and his tattered array. And as they came in,\nevery one of Powel's knights struck a blow upon the bag, and asked,\n\"What is here?\"\n\n\"A badger,\" said they. And in this manner they played, each of them\nstriking the bag, either with his foot or with a staff. And thus played\nthey with the bag. Every one as he came in asked, \"What game are you\nplaying at thus?\"\n\n\"The game of Badger in the Bag,\" said they. And then was the game of\nBadger in the Bag first played.\n\n\"Lord,\" said the man in the bag, \"if thou wouldest but hear me, I merit\nnot to be slain in a bag.\"\n\nSaid Heveyth Hen, \"Lord, he speaks truth. It were fitting that thou\nlisten to him; for he deserves not this.\"\n\n\"Verily,\" said Powel, \"I will do thy counsel concerning him.\"\n\n\"Behold, this is my counsel then,\" said Rhiannon. \"Thou art now in a\nposition in which it behoves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels: let\nhim give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will\nnever seek to revenge that which has been done to him. And this will be\npunishment enough.\"\n\n\"I will do this gladly,\" said the man in the bag.\n\n\"And gladly will I accept it,\" said Powel, \"since it is the counsel of\nHeveyth and Rhiannon.\"\n\n\"Such, then, is our counsel,\" answered they.\n\n\"I accept it,\" said Powel.\n\n\"Seek thyself sureties.\"\n\n\"We will be for him,\" said Heveyth, \"until his men be free to answer for\nhim.\" And upon this he was let out of the bag, and his liege-men were\nliberated. \"Demand now of Gwawl his sureties,\" said Heveyth; \"we know\nwhich should be taken for him.\" And Heveyth numbered the sureties.\n\nSaid Gwawl, \"Do thou thyself draw up the covenant.\"\n\n\"It will suffice me that it be as Rhiannon said,\" answered Powel. So\nunto that covenant were all the sureties pledged.\n\n\"Verily, lord,\" said Gwawl, \"I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises.\nI have need to be anointed; with thy leave I will go forth. I will leave\nnobles in my stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" said Powel, \"mayest thou do thus.\" So Gwawl went towards\nhis own possessions.\n\nAnd the hall was set in order for Powel and the men of his host, and for\nthem also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. And\nas they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night. And they\nate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquillity.\n\nAnd next morning, at the break of day, \"My lord,\" said Rhiannon, \"arise\nand begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. Refuse no one to-day\nthat may claim thy bounty.\"\n\n\"Thus shall it be, gladly,\" said Powel, \"both to-day and every day while\nthe feast shall last.\" So Powel arose, and he caused silence to be\nproclaimed, and desired all the suitors and the minstrels to show and to\npoint out what gifts were to their wish and desire. And this being done,\nthe feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. And when the\nfeast was ended, Powel said unto Heveyth, \"My lord, with thy permission,\nI will set out for Dyved to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said Heveyth. \"May Heaven prosper thee! Fix also a time\nwhen Rhiannon may follow thee.\"\n\nSaid Powel, \"We will go hence together.\"\n\n\"Willest thou this, lord?\" said Heveyth.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Powel.\n\nAnd the next day they set forward towards Dyved, and journeyed to the\npalace of Narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. And there\ncame to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of\nthe land, and of these there was none to whom Rhiannon did not give some\nrich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. And they\nruled the land prosperously both that year and the next.\n\nAnd in the fourth year a son was born to them, and women were brought to\nwatch the babe at night. And the women slept, as did also Rhiannon. And\nwhen they awoke they looked where they had put the boy, and behold he\nwas not there. And the women were frightened; and, having plotted\ntogether, they accused Rhiannon of having murdered her child before\ntheir eyes.\n\n\"For pity's sake,\" said Rhiannon, \"the Lord God knows all things. Charge\nme not falsely. If you tell me this from fear, I assert before Heaven\nthat I will defend you.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said they, \"we would not bring evil on ourselves for any one in\nthe world.\"\n\n\"For pity's sake,\" said Rhiannon, \"you will receive no evil by telling\nthe truth.\" But for all her words, whether fair or harsh, she received\nbut the same answer from the women.\n\nAnd Powel the chief of Annuvyn arose, and his household and his hosts.\nAnd this occurrence could not be concealed; but the story went forth\nthroughout the land, and all the nobles heard it. Then the nobles came\nto Powel, and besought him to put away his wife because of the great\ncrime which she had done. But Powel answered them that they had no cause\nwherefore they might ask him to put away his wife.\n\nSo Rhiannon sent for the teachers and the wise men, and as she preferred\ndoing penance to contending with the women, she took upon her a penance.\nAnd the penance that was imposed upon her was that she should remain in\nthat palace of Narberth until the end of seven years, and that she\nshould sit every day near unto a horse-block that was without the gate;\nand that she should relate the story to all who should come there whom\nshe might suppose not to know it already; and that she should offer the\nguests and strangers, if they would permit her, to carry them upon her\nback into the palace. But it rarely happened that any would permit. And\nthus did she spend part of the year.\n\nNow at that time Teirnyon Twryv Vliant was lord of Gwent Is Coed, and\nhe was the best man in the world. And unto his house there belonged a\nmare than which neither mare nor horse in the kingdom was more\nbeautiful. And on the night of every first of May she foaled, and no one\never knew what became of the colt. And one night Teirnyon talked with\nhis wife: \"Wife,\" said he, \"it is very simple of us that our mare should\nfoal every year, and that we should have none of her colts.\"\n\n\"What can be done in the matter?\" said she.\n\n\"This is the night of the first of May,\" said he. \"The vengeance of\nHeaven be upon me, if I learn not what it is that takes away the colts.\"\nSo he armed himself, and began to watch that night. Teirnyon heard a\ngreat tumult, and after the tumult behold a claw came through the window\ninto the house, and it seized the colt by the mane. Then Teirnyon drew\nhis sword, and struck off the arm at the elbow: so that portion of the\narm, together with the colt, was in the house with him. And then, did he\nhear a tumult and wailing both at once. And he opened the door, and\nrushed out in the direction of the noise, and he could not see the cause\nof the tumult because of the darkness of the night; but he rushed after\nit and followed it. Then he remembered that he had left the door open,\nand he returned. And at the door behold there was an infant-boy in\nswaddling clothes, wrapped around in a mantle of satin. And he took up\nthe boy, and behold he was very strong for the age that he was of.\n\nThen he shut the door, and went into the chamber where his wife was.\n\"Lady,\" said he, \"art thou sleeping?\"\n\n\"No, lord,\" said she: \"I was asleep, but as thou camest in I did\nawake.\"\n\n\"Behold, here is a boy for thee, if thou wilt,\" said he, \"since thou\nhast never had one.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said she, \"what adventure is this?\"\n\n\"It was thus,\" said Teirnyon. And he told her how it all befell.\n\n\"Verily, lord,\" said she, \"what sort of garments are there upon the\nboy?\"\n\n\"A mantle of satin,\" said he.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"He is then a boy of gentle lineage,\" she replied.\n\nAnd they caused the boy to be baptised, and the ceremony was performed\nthere. And the name which they gave unto him was Goldenlocks, because\nwhat hair was upon his head was as yellow as gold. And they had the boy\nnursed in the court until he was a year old. And before the year was\nover he could walk stoutly; and he was larger than a boy of three years\nold, even one of great growth and size. And the boy was nursed the\nsecond year, and then he was as large as a child six years old. And\nbefore the end of the fourth year, he would bribe the grooms to allow\nhim to take the horses to water.\n\n\"My lord,\" said his wife unto Teirnyon, \"where is the colt which thou\ndidst save on the night that thou didst find the boy?\"\n\n\"I have commanded the grooms of the horses,\" said he, \"that they take\ncare of him.\"\n\n\"Would it not be well, lord,\" said she, \"if thou wert to cause him to be\nbroken in, and given to the boy, seeing that on the same night that thou\ndidst find the boy, the colt was foaled, and thou didst save him?\"\n\n\"I will not oppose thee in this matter,\" said Teirnyon. \"I will allow\nthee to give him the colt.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said she, \"may Heaven reward thee! I will give it him.\" So the\nhorse was given to the boy. Then she went to the grooms and those who\ntended the horses, and commanded them to be careful of the horse, so\nthat he might be broken in by the time that the boy could ride him.\n\nAnd while these things were going forward, they heard tidings of\nRhiannon and her punishment. And Teirnyon Twryv Vliant, by reason of the\npity that he felt on hearing this story of Rhiannon and her punishment,\ninquired closely concerning it, until he had heard from many of those\nwho came to his court. Then did Teirnyon, often lamenting the sad\nhistory, ponder with himself; and he looked steadfastly on the boy, and\nas he looked upon him, it seemed to him that he had never beheld so\ngreat a likeness between father and son as between the boy and Powel the\nchief of Annuvyn. Now the semblance of Powel was well known to him, for\nhe had of yore been one of his followers. And thereupon he became\ngrieved for the wrong that he did in keeping with him a boy whom he knew\nto be the son of another man. And the first time that he was alone with\nhis wife he told her that it was not right that they should keep the boy\nwith them, and suffer so excellent a lady as Rhiannon to be punished so\ngreatly on his account, whereas the boy was the son of Powel the chief\nof Annuvyn. And Teirnyon's wife agreed with him that they should send\nthe boy to Powel. \"And three things, lord,\" said she, \"shall we gain\nthereby--thanks and gifts for releasing Rhiannon from her punishment,\nand thanks from Powel for nursing his son and restoring him unto him;\nand, thirdly, if the boy is of gentle nature, he will be our foster-son,\nand he will do for us all the good in his power.\" So it was settled\naccording to this counsel.\n\nAnd no later than the next day was Teirnyon equipped and two other\nknights with him. And the boy, as a fourth in their company, went with\nthem upon the horse which Teirnyon had given him. And they journeyed\ntowards Narberth, and it was not long before they reached that place.\nAnd as they drew near to the palace, they beheld Rhiannon sitting beside\nthe horse-block. And when they were opposite to her, \"Chieftain,\" said\nshe, \"go not farther thus: I will bear every one of you into the palace.\nAnd this is my penance for slaying my own son, and devouring him.\"\n\n\"Oh, fair lady,\" said Teirnyon, \"think not that I will be one to be\ncarried upon thy back.\"\n\n\"Neither will I,\" said the boy.\n\n\"Truly, my soul,\" said Teirnyon, \"we will not go.\" So they went forward\nto the palace, and there was great joy at their coming. And at the\npalace a feast was prepared because Powel was come back from the\nconfines of Dyfed. And they went into the hall and washed, and Powel\nrejoiced to see Teirnyon. And in this order they sat: Teirnyon between\nPowel and Rhiannon, and Teirnyon's two companions on the other side of\nPowel, with the boy between them. And after meat they began to carouse\nand discourse. And Teirnyon's discourse was concerning the adventure of\nthe mare and the boy, and how he and his wife had nursed and reared the\nchild as their own. \"Behold here is thy son, lady,\" said Teirnyon. \"And\nwhosoever told that lie concerning thee has done wrong. When I heard of\nthy sorrow, I was troubled and grieved. And I believe that there is none\nof this host who will not perceive that the boy is the son of Powel,\"\nsaid Teirnyon.\n\n\"There is none,\" said they all, \"who is not certain thereof.\"\n\n\"I declare to Heaven,\" said Rhiannon, \"that if this be true, there is\nindeed an end to my trouble.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Pendaran Dyfed, \"well hast thou named thy son Pryderi (end\nof trouble), and well becomes him the name of Pryderi son of Powel chief\nof Annuvyn.\"\n\n\"Look you,\" said Rhiannon: \"will not his own name become him better?\"\n\n\"What name has he?\" asked Pendaran Dyfed.\n\n\"Goldenlocks is the name that we gave him.\"\n\n\"Pryderi,\" said Pendaran, \"shall his name be.\"\n\n\"It were more proper,\" said Powel, \"that the boy should take his name\nfrom the word his mother spoke when she received the joyful tidings of\nhim.\" And thus was it arranged.\n\n\"Teirnyon,\" said Powel, \"Heaven reward thee that thou hast reared the\nboy up to this time, and, being of gentle lineage, it were fitting that\nhe repay thee for it.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Teirnyon, \"it was my wife who nursed him, and there is\nno one in the world so afflicted as she at parting with him. It were\nwell that he should bear in mind what I and my wife have done for him.\"\n\n\"I call Heaven to witness,\" said Powel, \"that while I live I will\nsupport thee and thy possessions as long as I am able to preserve my\nown. And when he shall have power, he will more fitly maintain them than\nI. And if this counsel be pleasing unto thee and to my nobles, it shall\nbe, that, as thou hast reared him up to the present time, I will give\nhim to be brought up by Pendaran Dyfed from henceforth. And you shall be\ncompanions, and shall both be foster-fathers unto him.\"\n\n\"This is good counsel,\" said they all. So the boy was given to Pendaran\nDyfed, and the nobles of the land were sent with him. And Teirnyon Twryv\nVliant and his companions set out for his country and his possessions,\nwith love and gladness. And he went not without being offered the\nfairest jewels, and the fairest horses, and the choicest dogs; but he\nwould take none of them.\n\nThereupon they all remained in their own dominions. And Pryderi the son\nof Powel the chief of Annuvyn was brought up carefully, as was fit, so\nthat he became the fairest youth, and the most comely, and the best\nskilled in all good games, of any in the kingdom. And thus passed years\nand years until the end of Powel the chief of Annuvyn's life came, and\nhe died.\n\n\n\n\nPaddy O'Kelly and the Weasel\n\n\n[Illustration: A]\n\nA long time ago there was once a man of the name of Paddy O'Kelly,\nliving near Tuam, in the county Galway. He rose up one morning early,\nand he did not know what time of day it was, for there was fine light\ncoming from the moon. He wanted to go to the fair of Cauher-na-mart to\nsell a _sturk_ of an ass that he had.\n\nHe had not gone more than three miles of the road when a great darkness\ncame on, and a shower began falling. He saw a large house among trees\nabout five hundred yards in from the road, and he said to himself that\nhe would go to that house till the shower would be over. When he got to\nthe house he found the door open before him, and in with him. He saw a\nlarge room to his left, and a fine fire in the grate. He sat down on a\nstool that was beside the wall, and began falling asleep, when he saw a\nbig weasel coming to the fire with something yellow in his mouth, which\nit dropped on the hearth-stone, and then it went away. She soon came\nback again with the same thing in her mouth, and he saw that it was a\nguinea she had. She dropped it on the hearth-stone, and went away again.\nShe was coming and going, until there was a great heap of guineas on the\nhearth. But at last, when she got her gone, Paddy rose up, thrust all\nthe gold she had gathered into his pockets, and out with him.\n\nHe had not gone far till he heard the weasel coming after him, and she\nscreeching as loud as a bag-pipes. She went before Paddy and got on the\nroad, and she was twisting herself back and forwards, and trying to get\na hold of his throat. Paddy had a good oak stick, and he kept her from\nhim, until two men came up who were going to the same fair, and one of\nthem had a good dog, and it routed the weasel into a hole in the wall.\n\nPaddy went to the fair, and instead of coming home with the money he got\nfor his old ass, as he thought would be the way with him in the morning,\nhe went and bought a horse with some of the money he took from the\nweasel, and he came home riding. When he came to the place where the dog\nhad routed the weasel into the hole in the wall, she came out before\nhim, gave a leap, and caught the horse by the throat. The horse made\noff, and Paddy could not stop him, till at last he gave a leap into a\nbig drain that was full up of water and black mud, and he was drowning\nand choking as fast as he could, until men who were coming from Galway\ncame up and drove away the weasel.\n\nPaddy brought the horse home with him, and put him into the cow's byre\nand fell asleep.\n\nNext morning, the day on the morrow, Paddy rose up early, and went out\nto give his horse hay and oats. When he got to the door he saw the\nweasel coming out of the byre and she covered with blood.\n\n\"My seven thousand curses on you,\" said Paddy, \"but I'm afraid you've\ndone harm.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe went in and found the horse, a pair of milch cows, and two calves\ndead. He came out and set a dog he had after the weasel. The dog got a\nhold of her, and she got a hold of the dog. The dog was a good one, but\nhe was forced to loose his hold of her before Paddy could come up. He\nkept his eye on her, however, all through, until he saw her creeping\ninto a little hovel that was on the brink of a lake. Paddy came running,\nand when he got to the little hut he gave the dog a shake to rouse him\nup and put anger on him, and then he sent him in. When the dog went in\nhe began barking. Paddy went in after him, and saw an old hag in the\ncorner. He asked her if she saw a weasel coming in there.\n\n\"I did not,\" said she; \"I'm all destroyed with a plague of sickness, and\nif you don't go out quick, you'll catch it from me.\"\n\nWhile Paddy and the hag were talking, the dog kept moving in all the\ntime, till at last he gave a leap and caught the hag by the throat. She\nscreeched and said:\n\n\"Paddy Kelly, take off your dog, and I'll make you a rich man.\"\n\nPaddy made the dog loose his hold, and said:\n\n\"Tell me who you are, or why did you kill my horse and my cows?\"\n\n\"And why did you bring away my gold that I was gathering for five\nhundred years throughout the hills and hollows of the world?\"\n\n\"I thought you were a weasel,\" said Paddy, \"or I wouldn't touch your\ngold; and another thing,\" says he, \"if you're for five hundred years in\nthis world, it's time for you to go to rest now.\"\n\n\"I committed a great crime in my youth,\" said the hag, \"and now I am to\nbe released from my sufferings if you can pay twenty pounds for a\nhundred and three-score masses for me.\"\n\n\"Where's the money?\" said Paddy.\n\n\"Go and dig under a bush that's over a little well in the corner of that\nfield there without, and you'll get a pot filled with gold. Pay the\ntwenty pounds for the masses, and yourself shall have the rest. When\nyou'll lift the flag off the pot, you'll see a big black dog coming out;\nbut don't be afraid before him; he is a son of mine. When you get the\ngold, buy the house in which you saw me at first. You'll get it cheap,\nfor it has the name of there being a ghost in it. My son will be down in\nthe cellar. He'll do you no harm, but he'll be a good friend to you. I\nshall be dead a month from this day, and when you get me dead, put a\ncoal under this little hut and burn it. Don't tell a living soul\nanything about me--and the luck will be on you.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\" said Paddy.\n\n\"Mary Kerwan,\" said the hag.\n\nPaddy went home, and when the darkness of the night came on, he took\nwith him a spade and went to the bush that was in the corner of the\nfield, and began digging. It was not long till he found the pot, and\nwhen he took the flag off of it a big black dog leaped out, and off and\naway with him, and Paddy's dog after him.\n\nPaddy brought home the gold, and hid it in the cow-house. About a month\nafter that he went to the fair of Galway, and bought a pair of cows, a\nhorse, and a dozen sheep. The neighbours did not know where he had got\nall the money; they said that he had a share with the good people.\n\nOne day Paddy dressed himself, and went to the gentleman who owned the\nlarge house where he first saw the weasel, and asked to buy the house of\nhim, and the land that was round about.\n\n\"You can have the house without paying any rent at all; but there is a\nghost in it, and I wouldn't like you to go to live in it without my\ntelling you, but I couldn't part with the land without getting a hundred\npounds more than you have to offer me.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I have as much as you have yourself,\" said Paddy. \"I'll be here\nto-morrow with the money, if you're ready to give me possession.\"\n\n\"I'll be ready,\" said the gentleman.\n\nPaddy went home and told his wife that he had bought a large house and a\nholding of land.\n\n\"Where did you get the money?\" says the wife.\n\n\"Isn't it all one to you where I got it?\" says Paddy.\n\nThe day on the morrow Paddy went to the gentleman, gave him the money,\nand got possession of the house and land; and the gentleman left him the\nfurniture and everything that was in the house, into the bargain.\n\nPaddy remained in the house that night, and when darkness came he went\ndown to the cellar, and he saw a little man with his two legs spread on\na barrel.\n\n\"God save you, honest man,\" says he to Paddy.\n\n\"The same to you,\" says Paddy.\n\n\"Don't be afraid of me, at all,\" says the little man. \"I'll be a friend\nto you, if you are able to keep a secret.\"\n\n\"I am able, indeed; I kept your mother's secret, and I'll keep yours as\nwell.\"\n\n\"Maybe you're thirsty?\" said the little man.\n\n\"I'm not free from it,\" said Paddy.\n\nThe little man put a hand in his bosom and drew out a gold goblet. He\ngave it to Paddy, and said: \"Draw wine out of that barrel under me.\"\n\nPaddy drew the full up of the goblet, and handed it to the little man.\n\n\"Drink yourself first,\" says he.\n\nPaddy drank, drew another goblet, and handed it to the little man, and\nhe drank it.\n\n\"Fill up and drink again,\" said the little man. \"I have a mind to be\nmerry to-night.\"\n\nThe pair of them sat there drinking until they were half drunk. Then the\nlittle man gave a leap down to the floor, and said to Paddy:\n\n\"Don't you like music?\"\n\n\"I do, surely,\" said Paddy, \"and I'm a good dancer, too.\"\n\n\"Lift up the big flag over there in the corner, and you'll get my pipes\nunder it.\"\n\nPaddy lifted the flag, got the pipes, and gave them to the little man.\nHe squeezed the pipes on him, and began playing melodious music. Paddy\nbegan dancing till he was tired. Then they had another drink, and the\nlittle man said:\n\n\"Do as my mother told you, and I'll show you great riches. You can bring\nyour wife in here, but don't tell her that I'm there, and she won't see\nme. Any time at all that ale or wine are wanting, come here and draw.\nFarewell, now; go to sleep, and come again to me to-morrow night.\"\n\nPaddy went to bed, and it wasn't long till he fell asleep.\n\nOn the morning of the day on the morrow, Paddy went home, and brought\nhis wife and children to the big house, and they were very comfortable.\nThat night Paddy went down to the cellar; the little man welcomed him\nand asked him did he wish to dance?\n\n\"Not till I get a drink,\" said Paddy.\n\n\"Drink your fill,\" said the little man; \"that barrel will never be empty\nas long as you live.\"\n\nPaddy drank the full of the goblet, and gave a drink to the little man.\nThen the little man said to him:\n\n\"I am going to the Fortress of the Fairies to-night, to play music for\nthe good people, and if you come with me you'll see fine fun. I'll give\nyou a horse that you never saw the like of him before.\"\n\n\"I'll go with you, and welcome,\" said Paddy; \"but what excuse will I\nmake to my wife?\"\n\n\"I'll bring you away from her side without her knowing it, when you are\nboth asleep together, and I'll bring you back to her the same way,\" said\nthe little man.\n\n\"I'm obedient,\" says Paddy; \"we'll have another drink before I leave\nyou.\"\n\nHe drank drink after drink, till he was half drunk, and he went to bed\nwith his wife.\n\nWhen he awoke he found himself riding on a broom near Doon-na-shee, and\nthe little man riding on another besom by his side. When they came as\nfar as the green hill of the Doon, the little man said a couple of words\nthat Paddy did not understand. The green hill opened, and the pair went\ninto a fine chamber.\n\nPaddy never saw before a gathering like that which was in the Doon. The\nwhole place was full up of little people, men and women, young and old.\nThey all welcomed little Donal--that was the name of the piper--and\nPaddy O'Kelly. The king and queen of the fairies came up to them, and\nsaid:\n\n\"We are all going on a visit to-night to Cnoc Matha, to the high king\nand queen of our people.\"\n\nThey all rose up then and went out. There were horses ready for each one\nof them, and the _coash-t'ya bower_ for the king and queen. The king and\nqueen got into the coach, each man leaped on his own horse, and be\ncertain that Paddy was not behind. The piper went out before them, and\nbegan playing them music, and then off and away with them. It was not\nlong till they came to Cnoc Matha. The hill opened, and the king of the\nfairy host passed in.\n\nFinvara and Nuala were there, the arch-king and queen of the fairy host\nof Connacht, and thousands of little persons. Finvara came up and said:\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"We are going to play a hurling match to-night against the fairy host of\nMunster, and unless we beat them our fame is gone for ever. The match is\nto be fought out on Moytura, under Slieve Belgadaun.\"\n\nThe Connacht host cried out: \"We are all ready, and we have no doubt but\nwe'll beat them.\"\n\n\"Out with ye all,\" cried the high king; \"the men of the hill of Nephin\nwill be on the ground before us.\"\n\nThey all went out, and little Donal and twelve pipers more before them,\nplaying melodious music. When they came to Moytura, the fairy host of\nMunster and the fairy men of the hill of Nephin were there before them.\n\nNow it is necessary for the fairy host to have two live men beside them\nwhen they are fighting or at a hurling match, and that was the reason\nthat little Donal took Paddy O'Kelly with him. There was a man they\ncalled the \"_Yellow Stongirya_\" with the fairy host of Munster, from\nEnnis, in the County Clare.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt was not long till the two hosts took sides; the ball was thrown up\nbetween them, and the fun began in earnest. They were hurling away, and\nthe pipers playing music, until Paddy O'Kelly saw the host of Munster\ngetting the strong hand, and he began helping the fairy host of\nConnacht. The _Stongirya_ came up and he made at Paddy O'Kelly, but\nPaddy turned him head over heels. From hurling the two hosts began at\nfighting, but it was not long until the host of Connacht beat the other\nhost. Then the host of Munster made flying beetles of themselves, and\nthey began eating every green thing that they came up to. They were\ndestroying the country before them until they came as far as Cong. Then\nthere rose up thousands of doves out of the hole, and they swallowed\ndown the beetles. That hole has no other name until this day but\nPull-na-gullam, the dove's hole.\n\nWhen the fairy host of Connacht won their battle, they came back to Cnoc\nMatha joyous enough, and the king Finvara gave Paddy O'Kelly a purse of\ngold, and the little piper brought him home, and put him into bed beside\nhis wife, and left him sleeping there.\n\nA month went by after that without anything worth mentioning, until one\nnight Paddy went down to the cellar, and the little man said to him: \"My\nmother is dead; burn the house over her.\"\n\n\"It is true for you,\" said Paddy. \"She told me that she hadn't but a\nmonth to be in the world, and the month was up yesterday.\"\n\nOn the next morning of the next day Paddy went to the hut and he found\nthe hag dead. He put a coal under the hut and burned it. He came home\nand told the little man that the hag was burnt. The little man gave him\na purse and said to him: \"This purse will never be empty as long as you\nare alive. Now, you will never see me more; but have a loving\nremembrance of the weasel. She was the beginning and the prime cause of\nyour riches.\" Then he went away and Paddy never saw him again.\n\nPaddy O'Kelly and his wife lived for years after this in the large\nhouse, and when he died he left great wealth behind him, and a large\nfamily to spend it.\n\nThere now is the story for you, from the first word to the last, as I\nheard it from my grandmother.\n\n\n\n\nThe Black Horse\n\n\n[Illustration: O]\n\nOnce there was a king and he had three sons, and when the king died,\nthey did not give a shade of anything to the youngest son, but an old\nwhite limping garron.\n\n\"If I get but this,\" quoth he, \"it seems that I had best go with this\nsame.\"\n\nHe was going with it right before him, sometimes walking, sometimes\nriding. When he had been riding a good while he thought that the garron\nwould need a while of eating, so he came down to earth, and what should\nhe see coming out of the heart of the western airt towards him but a\nrider riding high, well, and right well.\n\n\"All hail, my lad,\" said he.\n\n\"Hail, king's son,\" said the other.\n\n\"What's your news?\" said the king's son.\n\n\"I have got that,\" said the lad who came. \"I am after breaking my heart\nriding this ass of a horse; but will you give me the limping white\ngarron for him?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the prince; \"it would be a bad business for me.\"\n\n\"You need not fear,\" said the man that came, \"there is no saying but\nthat you might make better use of him than I. He has one value, there is\nno single place that you can think of in the four parts of the wheel of\nthe world that the black horse will not take you there.\"\n\nSo the king's son got the black horse, and he gave the limping white\ngarron.\n\nWhere should he think of being when he mounted but in the Realm\nUnderwaves. He went, and before sunrise on the morrow he was there. What\nshould he find when he got there but the son of the King Underwaves\nholding a Court, and the people of the realm gathered to see if there\nwas any one who would undertake to go to seek the daughter of the King\nof the Greeks to be the prince's wife. No one came forward, when who\nshould come up but the rider of the black horse.\n\n\"You, rider of the black horse,\" said the prince, \"I lay you under\ncrosses and under spells to have the daughter of the King of the Greeks\nhere before the sun rises to-morrow.\"\n\nHe went out and he reached the black horse and leaned his elbow on his\nmane, and he heaved a sigh.\n\n\"Sigh of a king's son under spells!\" said the horse; \"but have no care;\nwe shall do the thing that was set before you.\" And so off they went.\n\n\"Now,\" said the horse, \"when we get near the great town of the Greeks,\nyou will notice that the four feet of a horse never went to the town\nbefore. The king's daughter will see me from the top of the castle\nlooking out of a window, and she will not be content without a turn of a\nride upon me. Say that she may have that, but the horse will suffer no\nman but you to ride before a woman on him.\"\n\nThey came near the big town, and he fell to horsemanship; and the\nprincess was looking out of the windows, and noticed the horse. The\nhorsemanship pleased her, and she came out just as the horse had come.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Give me a ride on the horse,\" said she.\n\n\"You shall have that,\" said he, \"but the horse will let no man ride him\nbefore a woman but me.\"\n\n\"I have a horseman of my own,\" said she.\n\n\"If so, set him in front,\" said he.\n\nBefore the horseman mounted at all, when he tried to get up, the horse\nlifted his legs and kicked him off.\n\n\"Come then yourself and mount before me,\" said she; \"I won't leave the\nmatter so.\"\n\nHe mounted the horse and she behind him, and before she glanced from her\nshe was nearer sky than earth. He was in Realm Underwaves with her\nbefore sunrise.\n\n\"You are come,\" said Prince Underwaves.\n\n\"I am come,\" said he.\n\n\"There you are, my hero,\" said the prince. \"You are the son of a king,\nbut I am a son of success. Anyhow, we shall have no delay or neglect\nnow, but a wedding.\"\n\n\"Just gently,\" said the princess; \"your wedding is not so short a way\noff as you suppose. Till I get the silver cup that my grandmother had at\nher wedding, and that my mother had as well, I will not marry, for I\nneed to have it at my own wedding.\"\n\n\"You, rider of the black horse,\" said the Prince Underwaves, \"I set you\nunder spells and under crosses unless the silver cup is here before dawn\nto-morrow.\"\n\nOut he went and reached the horse and leaned his elbow on his mane, and\nhe heaved a sigh.\n\n\"Sigh of a king's son under spells!\" said the horse; \"mount and you\nshall get the silver cup. The people of the realm are gathered about the\nking to-night, for he has missed his daughter, and when you get to the\npalace go in and leave me without; they will have the cup there going\nround the company. Go in and sit in their midst. Say nothing, and seem\nto be as one of the people of the place. But when the cup comes round to\nyou, take it under your oxter, and come out to me with it, and we'll\ngo.\"\n\nAway they went and they got to Greece, and he went in to the palace and\ndid as the black horse bade. He took the cup and came out and mounted,\nand before sunrise he was in the Realm Underwaves.\n\n\"You are come,\" said Prince Underwaves.\n\n\"I am come,\" said he.\n\n\"We had better get married now,\" said the prince to the Greek princess.\n\n\"Slowly and softly,\" said she. \"I will not marry till I get the silver\nring that my grandmother and my mother wore when they were wedded.\"\n\n\"You, rider of the black horse,\" said the Prince Underwaves, \"do that.\nLet's have that ring here to-morrow at sunrise.\"\n\nThe lad went to the black horse and put his elbow on his crest and told\nhim how it was.\n\n\"There never was a matter set before me harder than this matter which\nhas now been set in front of me,\" said the horse, \"but there is no help\nfor it at any rate. Mount me. There is a snow mountain and an ice\nmountain and a mountain of fire between us and the winning of that ring.\nIt is right hard for us to pass them.\"\n\nThus they went as they were, and about a mile from the snow mountain\nthey were in a bad case with cold. As they came near it he struck the\nhorse, and with the bound he gave the black horse was on the top of the\nsnow mountain; at the next bound he was on the top of the ice mountain;\nat the third bound he went through the mountain of fire. When he had\npassed the mountains he was dragging at the horse's neck, as though he\nwere about to lose himself. He went on before him down to a town below.\n\n\"Go down,\" said the black horse, \"to a smithy; make an iron spike for\nevery bone end in me.\"\n\nDown he went as the horse desired, and he got the spikes made, and back\nhe came with them.\n\n\"Stick them into me,\" said the horse, \"every spike of them in every bone\nend that I have.\"\n\nThat he did; he stuck the spikes into the horse.\n\n\"There is a loch here,\" said the horse, \"four miles long and four miles\nwide, and when I go out into it the loch will take fire and blaze. If\nyou see the Loch of Fire going out before the sun rises, expect me, and\nif not, go your way.\"\n\nOut went the black horse into the lake, and the lake became flame. Long\nwas he stretched about the lake, beating his palms and roaring. Day\ncame, and the loch did not go out.\n\nBut at the hour when the sun was rising out of the water the lake went\nout.\n\nAnd the black horse rose in the middle of the water with one single\nspike in him, and the ring upon its end.\n\n[Illustration: .THE.BLACK.HORSE.]\n\nHe came on shore, and down he fell beside the loch.\n\nThen down went the rider. He got the ring, and he dragged the horse down\nto the side of a hill. He fell to sheltering him with his arms about\nhim, and as the sun was rising he got better and better, till about\nmidday, when he rose on his feet.\n\n\"Mount,\" said the horse, \"and let us begone.\"\n\nHe mounted on the black horse, and away they went.\n\nHe reached the mountains, and he leaped the horse at the fire mountain\nand was on the top. From the mountain of fire he leaped to the mountain\nof ice, and from the mountain of ice to the mountain of snow. He put the\nmountains past him, and by morning he was in realm under the waves.\n\n\"You are come,\" said the prince.\n\n\"I am,\" said he.\n\n\"That's true,\" said Prince Underwaves. \"A king's son are you, but a son\nof success am I. We shall have no more mistakes and delays, but a\nwedding this time.\"\n\n\"Go easy,\" said the Princess of the Greeks. \"Your wedding is not so near\nas you think yet. Till you make a castle, I won't marry you. Not to your\nfather's castle nor to your mother's will I go to dwell; but make me a\ncastle for which your father's castle will not make washing water.\"\n\n\"You, rider of the black horse, make that,\" said Prince Underwaves,\n\"before the morrow's sun rises.\"\n\nThe lad went out to the horse and leaned his elbow on his neck and\nsighed, thinking that this castle never could be made for ever.\n\n\"There never came a turn in my road yet that is easier for me to pass\nthan this,\" said the black horse.\n\nGlance that the lad gave from him he saw all that there were, and ever\nso many wrights and stone masons at work, and the castle was ready\nbefore the sun rose.\n\nHe shouted at the Prince Underwaves, and he saw the castle. He tried to\npluck out his eye, thinking that it was a false sight.\n\n\"Son of King Underwaves,\" said the rider of the black horse, \"don't\nthink that you have a false sight; this is a true sight.\"\n\n\"That's true,\" said the prince. \"You are a son of success, but I am a\nson of success too. There will be no more mistakes and delays, but a\nwedding now.\"\n\n\"No,\" said she. \"The time is come. Should we not go to look at the\ncastle? There's time enough to get married before the night comes.\"\n\nThey went to the castle and the castle was without a \"but\"----\n\n\"I see one,\" said the prince. \"One want at least to be made good. A well\nto be made inside, so that water may not be far to fetch when there is a\nfeast or a wedding in the castle.\"\n\n\"That won't be long undone,\" said the rider of the black horse.\n\nThe well was made, and it was seven fathoms deep and two or three\nfathoms wide, and they looked at the well on the way to the wedding.\n\n\"It is very well made,\" said she, \"but for one little fault yonder.\"\n\n\"Where is it?\" said Prince Underwaves.\n\n\"There,\" said she.\n\nHe bent him down to look. She came out, and she put her two hands at his\nback, and cast him in.\n\n\"Be thou there,\" said she. \"If I go to be married, thou art not the man;\nbut the man who did each exploit that has been done, and, if he chooses,\nhim will I have.\"\n\nAway she went with the rider of the little black horse to the wedding.\n\nAnd at the end of three years after that so it was that he first\nremembered the black horse or where he left him.\n\nHe got up and went out, and he was very sorry for his neglect of the\nblack horse. He found him just where he left him.\n\n\"Good luck to you, gentleman,\" said the horse. \"You seem as if you had\ngot something that you like better than me.\"\n\n\"I have not got that, and I won't; but it came over me to forget you,\"\nsaid he.\n\n\"I don't mind,\" said the horse, \"it will make no difference. Raise your\nsword and smite off my head.\"\n\n\"Fortune will now allow that I should do that,\" said he.\n\n\"Do it instantly, or I will do it to you,\" said the horse.\n\nSo the lad drew his sword and smote off the horse's head; then he lifted\nhis two palms and uttered a doleful cry.\n\nWhat should he hear behind him but \"All hail, my brother-in-law.\"\n\nHe looked behind him, and there was the finest man he ever set eyes\nupon.\n\n\"What set you weeping for the black horse?\" said he.\n\n\"This,\" said the lad, \"that there never was born of man or beast a\ncreature in this world that I was fonder of.\"\n\n\"Would you take me for him?\" said the stranger.\n\n\"If I could think you the horse, I would; but if not, I would rather the\nhorse,\" said the rider.\n\n\"I am the black horse,\" said the lad, \"and if I were not, how should you\nhave all these things that you went to seek in my father's house. Since\nI went under spells, many a man have I ran at before you met me. They\nhad but one word amongst them: they could not keep me, nor manage me,\nand they never kept me a couple of days. But when I fell in with you,\nyou kept me till the time ran out that was to come from the spells. And\nnow you shall go home with me, and we will make a wedding in my father's\nhouse.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Vision of MacConglinney\n\n\n[Illustration: C]\n\nCathal, King of Munster, was a good king and a great warrior. But there\ncame to dwell within him a lawless evil beast, that afflicted him with\nhunger that ceased not, and might not be satisfied, so that he would\ndevour a pig, a cow, and a bull calf and three-score cakes of pure\nwheat, and a vat of new ale, for his breakfast, whilst as for his great\nfeast, what he ate there passes account or reckoning. He was like this\nfor three half-years, and during that time it was the ruin of Munster he\nwas, and it is likely he would have ruined all Ireland in another\nhalf-year.\n\nNow there lived in Armagh a famous young scholar and his name was Anier\nMacConglinney. He heard of the strange disease of King Cathal, and of\nthe abundance of food and drink, of whitemeats, ale and mead, there were\nalways to be found at the king's court. Thither then was he minded to go\nto try his own fortune, and to see of what help he could be to the king.\n\nHe arose early in the morning and tucked up his shirt and wrapped him\nin the folds of his white cloak. In his right hand he grasped his\neven-poised knotty staff, and going right-hand-wise round his home, he\nbade farewell to his tutors and started off.\n\nHe journeyed across all Ireland till he came to the house of Pichan. And\nthere he stayed and told tales, and made all merry. But Pichan said:\n\n\"Though great thy mirth, son of learning, it does not make me glad.\"\n\n\"And why?\" asked MacConglinney.\n\n\"Knowest thou not, scholar, that Cathal is coming here to-night with all\nhis host. And if the great host is troublesome, the king's first meal is\nmore troublesome still; and troublesome though the first be, most\ntroublesome of all is the great feast. Three things are wanted for this\nlast: a bushel of oats, and a bushel of wild apples, and a bushel of\nflour cakes.\"\n\n\"What reward would you give me if I shield you from the king from this\nhour to the same hour to-morrow?\"\n\n\"A white sheep from every fold between Carn and Cork.\"\n\n\"I will take that,\" said MacConglinney.\n\nCathal, the king, came with the companies, and a host of horse of the\nMunster men. But Cathal did not let the thong of his shoe be half loosed\nbefore he began supplying his mouth with both hands from the apples\nround about him. Pichan and all the men of Munster looked on sadly and\nsorrowfully. Then rose MacConglinney, hastily and impatiently, and\nseized a stone, against which swords were used to be sharpened; this he\nthrust into his mouth and began grinding his teeth against the stone.\n\n\"What makes thee mad, son of learning?\" asked Cathal.\n\n\"I grieve to see you eating alone,\" said the scholar.\n\nThen the king was ashamed and flung him the apples, and it is said that\nfor three half-years he had not performed such an act of humanity.\n\n\"Grant me a further boon,\" said MacConglinney.\n\n\"It is granted, on my troth,\" said the king.\n\n\"Fast with me the whole night,\" said the scholar.\n\nAnd grievous though it was to the king, he did so, for he had passed his\nprincely troth, and no King of Munster might transgress that.\n\nIn the morning MacConglinney called for juicy old bacon, and tender\ncorned beef, honey in the comb, and English salt on a beautiful polished\ndish of white silver. A fire he lighted of oak wood without smoke,\nwithout fumes, without sparks.\n\nAnd sticking spits into the portion of meat, he set to work to roast\nthem. Then he shouted, \"Ropes and cords here.\"\n\nRopes and cords were given to him, and the strongest of the warriors.\n\nAnd they seized the king and bound him securely, and made him fast with\nknots and hooks and staples. When the king was thus fastened,\nMacConglinney sat himself down before him, and taking his knife out of\nhis girdle, he carved the portion of meat that was on the spits, and\nevery morsel he dipped in the honey, and, passing it in front of the\nking's mouth, put it in his own.\n\nWhen the king saw that he was getting nothing, and he had been fasting\nfor twenty-four hours, he roared and bellowed, and commanded the\nkilling of the scholar. But that was not done for him.\n\n\"Listen, King of Munster,\" said MacConglinney, \"a vision appeared to me\nlast night, and I will relate it to you.\"\n\nHe then began his vision, and as he related it he put morsel after\nmorsel past Cathal's mouth into his own.\n\n \"A lake of new milk I beheld\n In the midst of a fair plain,\n Therein a well-appointed house,\n Thatched with butter.\n Puddings fresh boiled,\n Such were its thatch-rods,\n Its two soft door posts of custard,\n Its beds of glorious bacon.\n Cheeses were the palisades,\n Sausages the rafters.\n Truly 'twas a rich filled house,\n In which was great store of good feed.\n\n\"Such was the vision I beheld, and a voice sounded into my ears. 'Go\nnow, thither, MacConglinney, for you have no power of eating in you.'\n'What must I do,' said I, for the sight of that had made me greedy. Then\nthe voice bade me go to the hermitage of the Wizard Doctor, and there I\nshould find appetite for all kinds of savoury tender sweet food,\nacceptable to the body.\n\n\"There in the harbour of the lake before me I saw a juicy little coracle\nof beef; its thwarts were of curds, its prow of lard; its stern of\nbutter; its oars were flitches of venison. Then I rowed across the wide\nexpanse of the New Milk Lake, through seas of broth, past river mouths\nof meat, over swelling boisterous waves of butter milk, by perpetual\npools of savoury lard, by islands of cheese, by headlands of old curds,\nuntil I reached the firm level land between Butter Mount and Milk Lake,\nin the land of O'Early-eating, in front of the hermitage of the Wizard\nDoctor.\n\n\"Marvellous, indeed, was the hermitage. Around it were seven-score\nhundred smooth stakes of old bacon, and instead of thorns above the top\nof every stake was fixed juicy lard. There was a gate of cream, whereon\nwas a bolt of sausage. And there I saw the doorkeeper, Bacon Lad, son of\nButterkins, son of Lardipole, with his smooth sandals of old bacon, his\nlegging of pot-meat round his shins, his tunic of corned beef, his\ngirdle of salmon skin round him, his hood of flummery about him, his\nsteed of bacon under him, with its four legs of custard, its four hoofs\nof oaten bread, its ears of curds, its two eyes of honey in its head; in\nhis hand a whip, the cords whereof were four-and-twenty fair white\npuddings, and every juicy drop that fell from each of these puddings\nwould have made a meal for an ordinary man.\n\n\"On going in I beheld the Wizard Doctor with his two gloves of rump\nsteak on his hands, setting in order the house, which was hung all round\nwith tripe, from roof to floor.\n\n\"I went into the kitchen, and there I saw the Wizard Doctor's son, with\nhis fishing hook of lard in his hand, and the line was made of marrow,\nand he was angling in a lake of whey. Now he would bring up a flitch of\nham, and now a fillet of corned beef. And as he was angling, he fell in,\nand was drowned.\n\n\"As I set my foot across the threshold into the house, I saw a pure\nwhite bed of butter, on which I sat down, but I sank down into it up to\nthe tips of my hair. Hard work had the eight strongest men in the house\nto pull me out by the top of the crown of my head.\n\n\"Then I was taken in to the Wizard Doctor. 'What aileth thee?' said he.\n\n\"My wish would be, that all the many wonderful viands of the world were\nbefore me, that I might eat my fill and satisfy my greed. But alas!\ngreat is the misfortune to me, who cannot obtain any of these.\n\n\"'On my word,' said the Doctor, 'the disease is grievous. But thou shall\ntake home with thee a medicine to cure thy disease, and shalt be for\never healed therefrom.'\n\n\"'What is that?' asked I.\n\n\"'When thou goest home to-night, warm thyself before a glowing red fire\nof oak, made up on a dry hearth, so that its embers may warm thee, its\nblaze may not burn thee, its smoke may not touch thee. And make for\nthyself thrice nine morsels, and every morsel as big as an heath fowl's\negg, and in each morsel eight kinds of grain, wheat and barley, oats and\nrye, and therewith eight condiments, and to every condiment eight\nsauces. And when thou hast prepared thy food, take a drop of drink, a\ntiny drop, only as much as twenty men will drink, and let it be of thick\nmilk, of yellow bubbling milk, of milk that will gurgle as it rushes\ndown thy throat.'\n\n\"'And when thou hast done this, whatever disease thou hast, shall be\nremoved. Go now,' said he, 'in the name of cheese, and may the smooth\njuicy bacon protect thee, may yellow curdy cream protect, may the\ncauldron full of pottage protect thee.'\"\n\nNow, as MacConglinney recited his vision, what with the pleasure of the\nrecital and the recounting of these many pleasant viands, and the sweet\nsavour of the honeyed morsels roasting on the spits, the lawless beast\nthat dwelt within the king, came forth until it was licking its lips\noutside its head.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen MacConglinney bent his hand with the two spits of food, and put\nthem to the lips of the king, who longed to swallow them, wood, food,\nand all. So he took them an arm's length away from the king, and the\nlawless beast jumped from the throat of Cathal onto the spit.\nMacConglinney put the spit into the embers, and upset the cauldron of\nthe royal house over the spit. The house was emptied, so that not the\nvalue of a cockchafer's leg was left in it, and four huge fires were\nkindled here and there in it. When the house was a tower of red flame\nand a huge blaze, the lawless beast sprang to the rooftree of the\npalace, and from thence he vanished, and was seen no more.\n\nAs for the king, a bed was prepared for him on a downy quilt, and\nmusicians and singers entertained him going from noon till twilight. And\nwhen he awoke, this is what he bestowed upon the scholar--a cow from\nevery farm, and a sheep from every house in Munster. Moreover, that so\nlong as he lived, he should carve the king's food, and sit at his right\nhand.\n\nThus was Cathal, King of Munster, cured of his craving, and\nMacConglinney honoured.\n\n\n\n\nDream of Owen O'Mulready\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was a man long ago living near Ballaghadereen named Owen\nO'Mulready, who was a workman for the gentleman of the place, and was a\nprosperous, quiet, contented man. There was no one but himself and his\nwife Margaret, and they had a nice little house and enough potatoes in\nthe year, in addition to their share of wages, from their master. There\nwasn't a want or anxiety on Owen, except one desire, and that was to\nhave a dream--for he had never had one.\n\nOne day when he was digging potatoes, his master--James Taafe--came out\nto his ridge, and they began talking, as was the custom with them. The\ntalk fell on dreams, and said Owen that he would like better than\nanything if he could only have one.\n\n\"You'll have one to-night,\" says his master, \"if you do as I tell you.\"\n\n\"Musha, I'll do it, and welcome,\" says Owen.\n\n\"Now,\" says his master, \"when you go home to-night, draw the fire from\nthe hearth, put it out, make your bed in its place and sleep there\nto-night, and you'll get your enough of dreaming before the morning.\"\n\nOwen promised to do this. When, however, he began to draw the fire out,\nMargaret thought that he had lost his senses, so he explained everything\nJames Taafe had said to him, had his own way, and they went to lie down\ntogether on the hearth.\n\nNot long was Owen asleep when there came a knock at the door.\n\n\"Get up, Owen O'Mulready, and go with a letter from the master to\nAmerica.\"\n\nOwen got up, and put his feet into his boots, saying to himself, \"It's\nlate you come, messenger.\"\n\nHe took the letter, and he went forward and never tarried till he came\nto the foot of Sliabh Charn, where he met a cow-boy, and he herding\ncows.\n\n\"The blessing of God be with you, Owen O'Mulready,\" says the boy.\n\n\"The blessing of God and Mary be with you, my boy,\" says Owen. \"Every\none knows me, and I don't know any one at all.\"\n\n\"Where are you going this time of night?\" says the boy.\n\n\"I'm going to America, with a letter from the master; is this the right\nroad?\" says Owen.\n\n\"It is; keep straight to the west; but how are you going to get over the\nwater?\" says the boy.\n\n\"Time enough to think of that when I get to it,\" replied Owen.\n\nHe went on the road again, till he came to the brink of the sea; there\nhe saw a crane standing on one foot on the shore.\n\n\"The blessing of God be with you, Owen O'Mulready,\" says the crane.\n\n\"The blessing of God and Mary be with you, Mrs. Crane,\" says Owen.\n\"Everybody knows me, and I don't know any one.\"\n\n\"What are you doing here?\"\n\nOwen told her his business, and that he didn't know how he'd get over\nthe water.\n\n\"Leave your two feet on my two wings, and sit on my back, and I'll take\nyou to the other side,\" says the crane.\n\n\"What would I do if tiredness should come on you before we got over?\"\nsays Owen.\n\n\"Don't be afraid, I won't be tired or wearied till I fly over.\"\n\nThen Owen went on the back of the crane, and she arose over the sea and\nwent forward, but she hadn't flown more than half-way, when she cried\nout:\n\n\"Owen O'Mulready get off me; I'm tired.\"\n\n\"That you may be seven times worse this day twelvemonths, you rogue of a\ncrane,\" says Owen; \"I can't get off you now, so don't ask me.\"\n\n\"I don't care,\" replied the crane, \"if you'll rise off me a while till\nI'll take a rest.\"\n\nWith that they saw threshers over their heads, and Owen shouted:\n\n\"Och! thresher, thresher, leave down your flail at me, that I may give\nthe crane a rest!\"\n\nThe thresher left down the flail, but when Owen took a hold with his two\nhands, the crane went from him laughing and mocking.\n\n\"My share of misfortunes go with you!\" said Owen, \"It's you've left me\nin a fix hanging between the heavens and the water in the middle of the\ngreat sea.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt wasn't long till the thresher shouted to him to leave go the flail.\n\n\"I won't let it go,\" said Owen; \"shan't I be drowned?\"\n\n\"If you don't let it go, I'll cut the whang.\"\n\n\"I don't care,\" says Owen; \"I have the flail\"; and with that he looked\naway from him, and what should he see but a boat a long way off.\n\n\"O sailor dear, sailor, come, come; perhaps you'll take my lot of\nbones,\" said Owen.\n\n\"Are we under you now?\" says the sailor.\n\n\"Not yet, not yet,\" says Owen.\n\n\"Fling down one of your shoes, till we see the way it falls,\" says the\ncaptain.\n\nOwen shook one foot, and down fell the shoe.\n\n\"Uill, uill, puil, uil liu--who is killing me?\" came a scream from\nMargaret in the bed. \"Where are you, Owen?\"\n\n\"I didn't know whether 'twas you were in it, Margaret.\"\n\n\"Indeed, then it is,\" says she, \"who else would it be?\"\n\nShe got up and lit the candle. She found Owen half-way up the chimney,\nclimbing by the hands on the crook, and he black with soot! He had one\nshoe on, but the point of the other struck Margaret, and 'twas that\nwhich awoke her.\n\nOwen came down off the crook and washed himself, and from that out there\nwas no envy on him ever to have a dream again.\n\n\n\n\nMorraha\n\n\n[Illustration: M]\n\nMorraha rose in the morning and washed his hands and face, and said his\nprayers, and ate his food; and he asked God to prosper the day for him.\nSo he went down to the brink of the sea, and he saw a currach, short and\ngreen, coming towards him; and in it there was but one youthful\nchampion, and he was playing hurly from prow to stern of the currach. He\nhad a hurl of gold and a ball of silver; and he stopped not till the\ncurrach was in on the shore; and he drew her up on the green grass, and\nput fastenings on her for a year and a day, whether he should be there\nall that time or should only be on land for an hour by the clock. And\nMorraha saluted the young man courteously; and the other saluted him in\nthe same fashion, and asked him would he play a game of cards with him;\nand Morraha said that he had not the wherewithal; and the other answered\nthat he was never without a candle or the making of it; and he put his\nhand in his pocket and drew out a table and two chairs and a pack of\ncards, and they sat down on the chairs and went to card-playing. The\nfirst game Morraha won, and the Slender Red Champion bade him make his\nclaim; and he asked that the land above him should be filled with stock\nof sheep in the morning. It was well; and he played no second game, but\nhome he went.\n\nThe next day Morraha went to the brink of the sea, and the young man\ncame in the currach and asked him would he play cards; they played, and\nMorraha won. The young man bade him make his claim; and he asked that\nthe land above should be filled with cattle in the morning. It was well;\nand he played no other game, but went home.\n\nOn the third morning Morraha went to the brink of the sea, and he saw\nthe young man coming. He drew up his boat on the shore and asked him\nwould he play cards. They played, and Morraha won the game; and the\nyoung man bade him give his claim. And he said he would have a castle\nand a wife, the finest and fairest in the world; and they were his. It\nwas well; and the Red Champion went away.\n\nOn the fourth day his wife asked him how he had found her. And he told\nher. \"And I am going out,\" said he, \"to play again to-day.\"\n\n\"I forbid you to go again to him. If you have won so much, you will lose\nmore; have no more to do with him.\"\n\nBut he went against her will, and he saw the currach coming; and the Red\nChampion was driving his balls from end to end of the currach; he had\nballs of silver and a hurl of gold, and he stopped not till he drew his\nboat on the shore, and made her fast for a year and a day. Morraha and\nhe saluted each other; and he asked Morraha if he would play a game of\ncards, and they played, and he won. Morraha said to him, \"Give your\nclaim now.\"\n\nSaid he, \"You will hear it too soon. I lay on you bonds of the art of\nthe Druid, not to sleep two nights in one house, nor finish a second\nmeal at the one table, till you bring me the sword of light and news of\nthe death of Anshgayliacht.\"\n\nHe went home to his wife and sat down in a chair, and gave a groan, and\nthe chair broke in pieces.\n\n\"That is the groan of the son of a king under spells,\" said his wife;\n\"and you had better have taken my counsel than that the spells should be\non you.\"\n\nHe told her he had to bring news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the\nsword of light to the Slender Red Champion.\n\n\"Go out,\" said she, \"in the morning of the morrow, and take the bridle\nin the window, and shake it; and whatever beast, handsome or ugly, puts\nits head in it, take that one with you. Do not speak a word to her till\nshe speaks to you; and take with you three pint bottles of ale and three\nsixpenny loaves, and do the thing she tells you; and when she runs to my\nfather's land, on a height above the castle, she will shake herself, and\nthe bells will ring, and my father will say, 'Brown Allree is in the\nland. And if the son of a king or queen is there, bring him to me on\nyour shoulders; but if it is the son of a poor man, let him come no\nfurther.'\"\n\nHe rose in the morning, and took the bridle that was in the window, and\nwent out and shook it; and Brown Allree came and put her head in it. He\ntook the three loaves and three bottles of ale, and went riding; and\nwhen he was riding she bent her head down to take hold of her feet with\nher mouth, in hopes he would speak in ignorance; but he spoke not a word\nduring the time, and the mare at last spoke to him, and told him to\ndismount and give her her dinner. He gave her the sixpenny loaf toasted,\nand a bottle of ale to drink.\n\n\"Sit up now riding, and take good heed of yourself: there are three\nmiles of fire I have to clear at a leap.\"\n\nShe cleared the three miles of fire at a leap, and asked if he were\nstill riding, and he said he was. Then they went on, and she told him to\ndismount and give her a meal; and he did so, and gave her a sixpenny\nloaf and a bottle; she consumed them and said to him there were before\nthem three miles of hill covered with steel thistles, and that she must\nclear it. She cleared the hill with a leap, and she asked him if he were\nstill riding, and he said he was. They went on, and she went not far\nbefore she told him to give her a meal, and he gave her the bread and\nthe bottleful. She went over three miles of sea with a leap, and she\ncame then to the land of the King of France; she went up on a height\nabove the castle, and she shook herself and neighed, and the bells rang;\nand the king said that it was Brown Allree was in the land.\n\n\"Go out,\" said he; \"and if it is the son of a king or queen, carry him\nin on your shoulders; if it is not, leave him there.\"\n\nThey went out; and the stars of the son of a king were on his breast;\nthey lifted him high on their shoulders and bore him in to the king.\nThey passed the night cheerfully, playing and drinking, with sport and\nwith diversion, till the whiteness of the day came upon the morrow\nmorning.\n\nThen the young king told the cause of his journey, and he asked the\nqueen to give him counsel and good luck, and she told him everything he\nwas to do.\n\n\"Go now,\" said she, \"and take with you the best mare in the stable, and\ngo to the door of Rough Niall of the Speckled Rock, and knock, and call\non him to give you news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of\nlight: and let the horse's back be to the door, and apply the spurs, and\naway with you.\"\n\nIn the morning he did so, and he took the best horse from the stable and\nrode to the door of Niall, and turned the horse's back to the door, and\ndemanded news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light; then\nhe applied the spurs, and away with him. Niall followed him hard, and,\nas he was passing the gate, cut the horse in two. His wife was there\nwith a dish of puddings and flesh, and she threw it in his eyes and\nblinded him, and said, \"Fool! whatever kind of man it is that's mocking\nyou, isn't that a fine condition you have got your father's horse into?\"\n\nOn the morning of the next day Morraha rose, and took another horse from\nthe stable, and went again to the door of Niall, and knocked and\ndemanded news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light, and\napplied the spurs to the horse and away with him. Niall followed, and as\nMorraha was passing, the gate cut the horse in two and took half the\nsaddle with him; but his wife met him and threw flesh in his eyes and\nblinded him.\n\nOn the third day, Morraha went again to the door of Niall; and Niall\nfollowed him, and as he was passing the gate, cut away the saddle from\nunder him and the clothes from his back. Then his wife said to Niall:\n\n\"The fool that's mocking you, is out yonder in the little currach, going\nhome; and take good heed to yourself, and don't sleep one wink for three\ndays.\"\n\nFor three days the little currach kept in sight, but then Niall's wife\ncame to him and said:\n\n\"Sleep as much as you want now. He is gone.\"\n\nHe went to sleep, and there was heavy sleep on him, and Morraha went in\nand took hold of the sword that was on the bed at his head. And the\nsword thought to draw itself out of the hand of Morraha; but it failed.\nThen it gave a cry, and it wakened Niall, and Niall said it was a rude\nand rough thing to come into his house like that; and said Morraha to\nhim:\n\n\"Leave your much talking, or I will cut the head off you. Tell me the\nnews of the death of Anshgayliacht.\"\n\n\"Oh, you can have my head.\"\n\n\"But your head is no good to me; tell me the story.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Niall's wife, \"you must get the story.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Niall, \"let us sit down together till I tell the story. I\nthought no one would ever get it; but now it will be heard by all.\"\n\n\n THE STORY.\n\n When I was growing up, my mother taught me the language of the\n birds; and when I got married, I used to be listening to their\n conversation; and I would be laughing; and my wife would be asking\n me what was the reason of my laughing, but I did not like to tell\n her, as women are always asking questions. We went out walking\n one fine morning, and the birds were arguing with one another. One\n of them said to another:\n\n \"Why should you be comparing yourself with me, when there is not a\n king nor knight that does not come to look at my tree?\"\n\n \"What advantage has your tree over mine, on which there are three\n rods of magic mastery growing?\"\n\n When I heard them arguing, and knew that the rods were there, I\n began to laugh.\n\n \"Oh,\" asked my wife, \"why are you always laughing? I believe it is\n at myself you are jesting, and I'll walk with you no more.\"\n\n \"Oh, it is not about you I am laughing. It is because I understand\n the language of the birds.\"\n\n Then I had to tell her what the birds were saying to one another;\n and she was greatly delighted, and she asked me to go home, and\n she gave orders to the cook to have breakfast ready at six o'clock\n in the morning. I did not know why she was going out early, and\n breakfast was ready in the morning at the hour she appointed. She\n asked me to go out walking. I went with her. She went to the tree,\n and asked me to cut a rod for her.\n\n \"Oh, I will not cut it. Are we not better without it?\"\n\n \"I will not leave this until I get the rod, to see if there is any\n good in it.\"\n\n I cut the rod and gave it to her. She turned from me and struck a\n blow on a stone, and changed it; and she struck a second blow on\n me, and made of me a black raven, and she went home and left me\n after her. I thought she would come back; she did not come, and I\n had to go into a tree till morning. In the morning, at six\n o'clock, there was a bellman out, proclaiming that every one who\n killed a raven would get a fourpenny-bit. At last you could not\n find man or boy without a gun, nor, if you were to walk three\n miles, a raven that was not killed. I had to make a nest in the\n top of the parlour chimney, and hide myself all day till night\n came, and go out to pick up a bit to support me, till I spent a\n month. Here she is herself to say if it is a lie I am telling.\n\n [Illustration]\n\n \"It is not,\" said she.\n\n Then I saw her out walking. I went up to her, and I thought she\n would turn me back to my own shape, and she struck me with the rod\n and made of me an old white horse, and she ordered me to be put to\n a cart with a man, to draw stones from morning till night. I was\n worse off then. She spread abroad a report that I had died\n suddenly in my bed, and prepared a coffin, and waked and buried\n me. Then she had no trouble. But when I got tired I began to kill\n every one who came near me, and I used to go into the haggard\n every night and destroy the stacks of corn; and when a man came\n near me in the morning I would follow him till I broke his bones.\n Every one got afraid of me. When she saw I was doing mischief she\n came to meet me, and I thought she would change me. And she did\n change me, and made a fox of me. When I saw she was doing me every\n sort of damage I went away from her. I knew there was a badger's\n hole in the garden, and I went there till night came, and I made\n great slaughter among the geese and ducks. There she is herself to\n say if I am telling a lie.\n\n \"Oh! you are telling nothing but the truth, only less than the\n truth.\"\n\n When she had enough of my killing the fowl she came out into the\n garden, for she knew I was in the badger's hole. She came to me\n and made me a wolf. I had to be off, and go to an island, where no\n one at all would see me, and now and then I used to be killing\n sheep, for there were not many of them, and I was afraid of being\n seen and hunted; and so I passed a year, till a shepherd saw me\n among the sheep and a pursuit was made after me. And when the dogs\n came near me there was no place for me to escape to from them; but\n I recognised the sign of the king among the men, and I made for\n him, and the king cried out to stop the hounds. I took a leap upon\n the front of the king's saddle, and the woman behind cried out,\n \"My king and my lord, kill him, or he will kill you!\"\n\n \"Oh! he will not kill me. He knew me; he must be pardoned.\"\n\n The king took me home with him, and gave orders I should be well\n cared for. I was so wise, when I got food, I would not eat one\n morsel until I got a knife and fork. The man told the king, and\n the king came to see if it was true, and I got a knife and fork,\n and I took the knife in one paw and the fork in the other, and I\n bowed to the king. The king gave orders to bring him drink, and it\n came; and the king filled a glass of wine and gave it to me.\n\n I took hold of it in my paw and drank it, and thanked the king.\n\n \"On my honour,\" said he, \"it is some king or other has lost him,\n when he came on the island; and I will keep him, as he is trained;\n and perhaps he will serve us yet.\"\n\n And this is the sort of king he was,--a king who had not a child\n living. Eight sons were born to him and three daughters, and they\n were stolen the same night they were born. No matter what guard\n was placed over them, the child would be gone in the morning. A\n twelfth child now came to the queen, and the king took me with him\n to watch the baby. The women were not satisfied with me.\n\n \"Oh,\" said the king, \"what was all your watching ever good for?\n One that was born to me I have not; I will leave this one in the\n dog's care, and he will not let it go.\"\n\n A coupling was put between me and the cradle, and when every one\n went to sleep I was watching till the person woke who attended in\n the daytime; but I was there only two nights; when it was near the\n day, I saw a hand coming down through the chimney, and the hand\n was so big that it took round the child altogether, and thought to\n take him away. I caught hold of the hand above the wrist, and as I\n was fastened to the cradle, I did not let go my hold till I cut\n the hand from the wrist, and there was a howl from the person\n without. I laid the hand in the cradle with the child, and as I\n was tired I fell asleep; and when I awoke, I had neither child nor\n hand; and I began to howl, and the king heard me, and he cried out\n that something was wrong with me, and he sent servants to see what\n was the matter with me, and when the messenger came he saw me\n covered with blood, and he could not see the child; and he went to\n the king and told him the child was not to be got. The king came\n and saw the cradle coloured with the blood, and he cried out\n \"where was the child gone?\" and every one said it was the dog had\n eaten it.\n\n The king said: \"It is not: loose him, and he will get the pursuit\n himself.\"\n\n [Illustration: MORRAHA]\n\n When I was loosed, I found the scent of the blood till I came to a\n door of the room in which the child was. I went back to the king\n and took hold of him, and went back again and began to tear at the\n door. The king followed me and asked for the key. The servant said\n it was in the room of the stranger woman. The king caused search\n to be made for her, and she was not to be found. \"I will break the\n door,\" said the king, \"as I can't get the key.\" The king broke\n the door, and I went in, and went to the trunk, and the king asked\n for a key to unlock it. He got no key, and he broke the lock. When\n he opened the trunk, the child and the hand were stretched side by\n side, and the child was asleep. The king took the hand and ordered\n a woman to come for the child, and he showed the hand to every one\n in the house. But the stranger woman was gone, and she did not see\n the king;--and here she is herself to say if I am telling lies of\n her.\n\n \"Oh, it's nothing but the truth you have!\"\n\n The king did not allow me to be tied any more. He said there was\n nothing so much to wonder at as that I cut the hand off, as I was\n tied.\n\n The child was growing till he was a year old. He was beginning to\n walk, and no one cared for him more than I did. He was growing\n till he was three, and he was running out every minute; so the\n king ordered a silver chain to be put between me and the child,\n that he might not go away from me. I was out with him in the\n garden every day, and the king was as proud as the world of the\n child. He would be watching him everywhere we went, till the child\n grew so wise that he would loose the chain and get off. But one\n day that he loosed it I failed to find him; and I ran into the\n house and searched the house, but there was no getting him for me.\n The king cried to go out and find the child, that had got loose\n from the dog. They went searching for him, but could not find him.\n When they failed altogether to find him, there remained no more\n favour with the king towards me, and every one disliked me, and I\n grew weak, for I did not get a morsel to eat half the time. When\n summer came, I said I would try and go home to my own country. I\n went away one fine morning, and I went swimming, and God helped me\n till I came home. I went into the garden, for I knew there was a\n place in the garden where I could hide myself, for fear my wife\n should see me. In the morning I saw her out walking, and the child\n with her, held by the hand. I pushed out to see the child, and as\n he was looking about him everywhere, he saw me and called out, \"I\n see my shaggy papa. Oh!\" said he; \"oh, my heart's love, my shaggy\n papa, come here till I see you!\"\n\n [Illustration]\n\n I was afraid the woman would see me, as she was asking the child\n where he saw me, and he said I was up in a tree; and the more the\n child called me, the more I hid myself. The woman took the child\n home with her, but I knew he would be up early in the morning.\n\n I went to the parlour-window, and the child was within, and he\n playing. When he saw me he cried out, \"Oh! my heart's love, come\n here till I see you, shaggy papa.\" I broke the window and went in,\n and he began to kiss me. I saw the rod in front of the chimney,\n and I jumped up at the rod and knocked it down. \"Oh! my heart's\n love, no one would give me the pretty rod,\" said he. I hoped he\n would strike me with the rod, but he did not. When I saw the time\n was short I raised my paw, and I gave him a scratch below the\n knee. \"Oh! you naughty, dirty, shaggy papa, you have hurt me so\n much, I'll give you a blow of the rod.\" He struck me a light blow,\n and so I came back to my own shape again. When he saw a man\n standing before him he gave a cry, and I took him up in my arms.\n The servants heard the child. A maid came in to see what was the\n matter with him. When she saw me she gave a cry out of her, and\n she said, \"Oh, if the master isn't come to life again!\"\n\n Another came in, and said it was he really. When the mistress\n heard of it, she came to see with her own eyes, for she would not\n believe I was there; and when she saw me she said she'd drown\n herself. But I said to her, \"If you yourself will keep the secret,\n no living man will ever get the story from me until I lose my\n head.\" Here she is herself to say if I am telling the truth. \"Oh,\n it's nothing but truth you are telling.\"\n\n When I saw I was in a man's shape, I said I would take the child\n back to his father and mother, as I knew the grief they were in\n after him. I got a ship, and took the child with me; and as I\n journeyed I came to land on an island, and I saw not a living soul\n on it, only a castle dark and gloomy. I went in to see was there\n any one in it. There was no one but an old hag, tall and\n frightful, and she asked me, \"What sort of person are you?\" I\n heard some one groaning in another room, and I said I was a\n doctor, and I asked her what ailed the person who was groaning.\n\n \"Oh,\" said she, \"it is my son, whose hand has been bitten from his\n wrist by a dog.\"\n\n I knew then that it was he who had taken the child from me, and I\n said I would cure him if I got a good reward.\n\n \"I have nothing; but there are eight young lads and three young\n women, as handsome as any one ever laid eyes on, and if you cure\n him I will give you them.\"\n\n \"Tell me first in what place his hand was cut from him?\"\n\n \"Oh, it was out in another country, twelve years ago.\"\n\n \"Show me the way, that I may see him.\"\n\n She brought me into a room, so that I saw him, and his arm was\n swelled up to the shoulder. He asked me if I would cure him; and I\n said I would cure him if he would give me the reward his mother\n promised.\n\n \"Oh, I will give it; but cure me.\"\n\n \"Well, bring them out to me.\"\n\n The hag brought them out of the room. I said I should burn the\n flesh that was on his arm. When I looked on him he was howling\n with pain. I said that I would not leave him in pain long. The\n wretch had only one eye in his forehead. I took a bar of iron, and\n put it in the fire till it was red, and I said to the hag, \"He\n will be howling at first, but will fall asleep presently, and do\n not wake him till he has slept as much as he wants. I will close\n the door when I am going out.\" I took the bar with me, and I stood\n over him, and I turned it across through his eye as far as I\n could. He began to bellow, and tried to catch me, but I was out\n and away, having closed the door. The hag asked me, \"Why is he\n bellowing?\"\n\n \"Oh, he will be quiet presently, and will sleep for a good while,\n and I'll come again to have a look at him; but bring me out the\n young men and the young women.\"\n\n I took them with me, and I said to her, \"Tell me where you got\n them.\"\n\n \"My son brought them with him, and they are all the children of\n one king.\"\n\n I was well satisfied, and I had no wish for delay to get myself\n free from the hag, so I took them on board the ship, and the child\n I had myself. I thought the king might leave me the child I nursed\n myself; but when I came to land, and all those young people with\n me, the king and queen were out walking. The king was very aged,\n and the queen aged likewise. When I came to converse with them,\n and the twelve with me, the king and queen began to cry. I asked,\n \"Why are you crying?\"\n\n \"It is for good cause I am crying. As many children as these I\n should have, and now I am withered, grey, at the end of my life,\n and I have not one at all.\"\n\n I told him all I went through, and I gave him the child in his\n hand, and \"These are your other children who were stolen from you,\n whom I am giving to you safe. They are gently reared.\"\n\n When the king heard who they were he smothered them with kisses\n and drowned them with tears, and dried them with fine cloths\n silken and the hair of his own head, and so also did their mother,\n and great was his welcome for me, as it was I who found them all.\n The king said to me, \"I will give you the last child, as it is you\n who have earned him best; but you must come to my court every\n year, and the child with you, and I will share with you my\n possessions.\"\n\n \"I have enough of my own, and after my death I will leave it to\n the child.\"\n\n I spent a time, till my visit was over, and I told the king all\n the troubles I went through, only I said nothing about my wife.\n And now you have the story.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd now when you go home, and the Slender Red Champion asks you for news\nof the death of Anshgayliacht and for the sword of light, tell him the\nway in which his brother was killed, and say you have the sword; and he\nwill ask the sword from you. Say you to him, \"If I promised to bring it\nto you, I did not promise to bring it for you\"; and then throw the sword\ninto the air and it will come back to me.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHe went home, and he told the story of the death of Anshgayliacht to the\nSlender Red Champion, \"And here,\" said he, \"is the sword.\" The Slender\nRed Champion asked for the sword; but he said: \"If I promised to bring\nit to you, I did not promise to bring it for you\"; and he threw it into\nthe air and it returned to Blue Niall.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe Story of the McAndrew Family\n\n\n[Illustration: A]\n\nA long time ago, in the County Mayo, there lived a rich\nman of the name of McAndrew. He owned cows and horses without number,\nnot to mention ducks and geese and pigs; and his land extended as far as\nthe eye could reach on the four sides of you.\n\nMcAndrew was a lucky man, the neighbours all said; but as for himself,\nwhen he looked on his seven big sons growing up like weeds and with\nscarcely any more sense, he felt sore enough, for of all the stupid\nomadhauns the seven McAndrew brothers were the stupidest.\n\nWhen the youngest grew to be a man, the father built a house for each of\nthem, and gave every one a piece of land and a few cows, hoping to make\nmen of them before he died, for, as the old man said:\n\n\"While God spares my life, I'll be able to have an eye to them, and\nmaybe they will learn from experience.\"\n\nThe seven young McAndrews were happy enough. Their fields were green,\ntheir cows were fat and sleek, and they thought they would never see a\npoor day.\n\nAll went well for a time, and the day of the Fair of Killalla was as\nfine a day as ever shone in Ireland, when the whole seven got ready to\nbe off, bright and early, in the morning.\n\nEach one of them drove before him three fine cows, and a finer herd,\nwhen they were all together, was never seen in the country far or near.\n\nNow, there was a smart farmer, named O'Toole, whose fields were nearing\non the McAndrews', and he had many a time set his heart on the fine\ncattle belonging to his easy-going neighbours; so when he saw them\npassing with their twenty-one cows he went out and hailed them.\n\n\"Where are ye going to, this fine morning?\"\n\n\"It's to the Fair of Killalla we're going, to sell these fine cows our\nfather gave us,\" they all answered together.\n\n\"And are ye going to sell cows that the Evil Eye has long been set on?\nOh, Con and Shamus, I would never belave it of ye, even if that spalpeen\nof a Pat would do such a thing; any one would think that the spirit of\nthe good mother that bore ye would stretch out a hand and kape ye from\ncommitting such a mortal sin.\"\n\nThis O'Toole said to the three eldest, who stood trembling, while the\nfour younger ones stuck their knuckles into their eyes and began to cry.\n\n\"Oh, indade, Mr. O'Toole, we never knew that the cows were under the\nEvil Eye. How did ye find it out? Oh, sorra the day when such a fine\nlot of cattle should go to the bad,\" answered Con.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Indade ye may well ask it, whin it's meself that was always a good\nneighbour and kept watch on auld Judy, the witch, when she used to stand\nover there laughing at the ravens flying over the cows. Do ye mind the\ntime yer father spoke ugly to her down by the cross-roads? She never\nforgot it, and now yer twenty-one fine cows will never be worth the\nhides on their backs.\"\n\n\"Worra, worra, worra,\" roared the seven McAndrews, so loud that pretty\nKatie O'Toole bobbed her head out of the window, and the hindermost cows\nbegan to caper like mad.\n\n\"The spell has come upon them!\" cried Shamus. \"Oh! what'll we do?\nWhat'll we do?\"\n\n\"Hould yer whist, man alive,\" said O'Toole. \"I'm a good neighbour, as I\nsaid before, so to give ye a lift in the world I'll take the risk on\nmeself and buy the cows from ye for the price of their hides. Sure no\nharm can be done to the hides for making leather, so I'll give ye a\nshilling apiece, and that's better than nothing. Twenty-one bright\nshillings going to the fair may make yer fortune.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt seemed neck or nothing with the McAndrews, and they accepted the\noffer, thanking O'Toole for his generosity, and helped him drive the\ncows into his field. Then they set off for the fair.\n\nThey had never been in a fair before, and when they saw the fine sights\nthey forgot all about the cows, and only remembered that they had each a\nshilling to spend.\n\nEvery one knew the McAndrews, and soon a crowd gathered round them,\npraising their fine looks and telling them what a fine father they had\nto give them so much money, so that the seven omadhauns lost their heads\nentirely, and treated right and left until there wasn't a farthing left\nof the twenty-one shillings. Then they staggered home a little the worse\nfor the fine whisky they drank with the boys.\n\nIt was a sorry day for old McAndrew when his seven sons came home\nwithout a penny of the price of their twenty-one fine cows, and he vowed\nhe'd never give them any more.\n\nSo one day passed with another, and the seven young McAndrews were as\nhappy as could be until the fine old father fell sick and died.\n\nThe eldest son came in for all the father had, so he felt like a lord.\nTo see him strut and swagger was a sight to make a grum growdy laugh.\n\nOne day, to show how fine he could be, he dressed in his best, and with\na purse filled with gold pieces started off for the market town.\n\nWhen he got there, in he walked to a public-house, and called for the\nbest of everything, and to make a fine fellow of himself he tripled the\nprice of everything to the landlord. As soon as he got through his eye\nsuddenly caught sight of a little keg, all gilded over to look like\ngold, that hung outside the door for a sign. Con had never heeded it\nbefore, and he asked the landlord what it was.\n\nNow the landlord, like many another, had it in mind that he might as\nwell get all he could out of a McAndrew, and he answered quickly:\n\n\"You stupid omadhaun, don't you know what that is? It's a mare's egg.\"\n\n\"And will a foal come out of it?\"\n\n\"Of course; what a question to ask a dacent man!\"\n\n\"I niver saw one before,\" said the amazed McAndrew.\n\n\"Well, ye see one now, Con, and take a good look at it.\"\n\n\"Will ye sell it?\"\n\n\"Och, Con McAndrew, do ye think I want to sell that fine egg afther\nkaping it so long hung up there before the sun--when it is ready to\nhatch out a foal that will be worth twenty good guineas to me?\"\n\n\"I'll give ye twenty guineas for it,\" answered Con.\n\n\"Thin it's a bargain,\" said the landlord; and he took down the keg and\nhanded it to Con, who handed out the twenty guineas, all the money he\nhad.\n\n\"Be careful of it, and carry it as aisy as ye can, and when ye get home\nhang it up in the sun.\"\n\nCon promised, and set off home with his prize.\n\nNear the rise of a hill he met his brothers.\n\n\"What have ye, Con?\"\n\n\"The most wonderful thing in the world--a mare's egg.\"\n\n\"Faith, what is it like?\" asked Pat, taking it from Con.\n\n\"Go aisy, can't ye? It's very careful ye have to be.\"\n\nBut the brothers took no heed to Con, and before one could say, \"whist,\"\naway rolled the keg down the hill, while all seven ran after it; but\nbefore any one could catch it, it rolled into a clump of bushes, and in\nan instant out hopped a hare.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Bedad, there's the foal,\" cried Con, and all seven gave chase; but\nthere was no use trying to catch a hare.\n\n\"That's the foinest foal that ever was, if he was five year old the\ndevil himself could not catch him,\" Con said; and with that the seven\nomadhauns gave up the chase and went quietly home.\n\nAs I said before, every one had it in mind to get all he could get out\nof the McAndrews.\n\nEvery one said, \"One man might as well have it as another, for they're\nbound to spend every penny they have.\"\n\nSo their money dwindled away; then a fine horse would go for a few bits\nof glass they took for precious stones, and by-and-by a couple of pigs\nor a pair of fine geese for a bit of ribbon to tie on a hat; and at last\ntheir land began to go.\n\nOne day Shamus was sitting by his fireplace warming himself, and to make\na good fire he threw on a big heap of turf so that by-and-by it got\nroaring hot, and instead of feeling chilly as he had before, Shamus got\nas hot as a spare-rib on a spit. Just then in came his youngest brother.\n\n\"That's a great fire ye have here, Shamus.\"\n\n\"It is, indade, and too near it is to me; run like a good boy to Giblin,\nthe mason, and see if he can't move the chimney to the other side of the\nroom.\"\n\nThe youngest McAndrew did as he was bid, and soon in came Giblin, the\nmason.\n\n\"Ye're in a sad plight, Shamus, roasting alive; what can I do for ye?\"\n\n\"Can ye move the chimney over beyant?\"\n\n\"Faith, I can, but ye will have to move a bit; just go out for a walk\nwith yer brother, and the job will be done when ye come back.\"\n\nShamus did as he was bid, and Giblin took the chair the omadhaun was\nsitting on and moved it away from the fire, and then sat down for a\nquiet laugh for himself and to consider on the price he'd charge for the\njob.\n\nWhen Shamus came back, Giblin led him to the chair, saying:\n\n\"Now, isn't that a great deal better?\"\n\n\"Ye're a fine man, Giblin, and ye did it without making a bit of dirt;\nwhat'll I give ye for so fine a job?\"\n\n\"If ye wouldn't mind, I'd like the meadow field nearing on mine. It's\nlittle enough for a job like that.\"\n\n\"It's yours and welcome, Giblin\"; and without another word the deed was\ndrawn.\n\nThat was the finest of the McAndrew fields, and the only pasture land\nleft to Shamus.\n\nIt was not long before it came about that first one and then another\nlost the house he lived in, until all had to live together in the\nfather's old place.\n\nO'Toole and Giblin had encroached field by field, and there was nothing\nleft but the old house and a strip of garden that none of them knew how\nto till.\n\nIt was hard times for the seven McAndrews, but they were happy and\ncontented as long as they had enough to eat, and that they had surely,\nfor the wives of the men who got away all their fine lands and cattle,\nhad sore hearts when they saw their men enriched at the expense of the\nomadhauns, and every day, unbeknown to their husbands, they carried them\nmeat and drink.\n\nO'Toole and Giblin now had their avaricious eyes set on the house and\ngarden, and they were on the watch for a chance to clutch them, when\nluck, or something worse, threw the chance in the way of O'Toole.\n\nHe was returning from town one day just in the cool of the afternoon,\nwhen he spied the seven brothers by the roadside, sitting in a circle\nfacing each other.\n\n\"What may ye be doing here instead of earning yer salt, ye seven big\nsturks?\"\n\n\"We're in a bad fix, Mr. O'Toole,\" answered Pat. \"We can't get up.\"\n\n\"What's to hinder ye from getting up? I'd like to know.\"\n\n\"Don't ye see our feet are all here together in the middle, and not for\nthe life of us can we each tell our own. You see if one of us gets up he\ndon't know what pair of feet to take with him.\"\n\nO'Toole was never so ready to laugh before in his life, but he thought:\n\n\"Now's me chance to get the house and garden before Giblin, the mason,\ncomes round\"; so he looked very grave and said: \"I suppose it is hard to\ntell one man's feet from another's when they're all there in a heap, but\nI think I can help you as I have many a time before. It would be a sorry\nday for ye if ye did not have me for a neighbour. What will ye give me\nif I help you find yer feet?\"\n\n\"Anything, anything we have, so that we can get up from here,\" answered\nthe whole seven together.\n\n\"Will ye give me the house and garden?\"\n\n\"Indade we will; what good is a house and garden, if we have to sit here\nall the rest of our lives?\"\n\n\"Then it's a bargain,\" said O'Toole; and with that he went over to the\nside of the road and pulled a good stout rod. Then he commenced to\nbelabour the poor McAndrews over the heads, feet, shoulders, and any\nplace he could get in a stroke, until with screeches of pain they all\njumped up, every one finding his own feet, and away they ran.\n\nSo O'Toole got the last of the property of the McAndrews, and there was\nnothing left for them but to go and beg.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe Farmer of Liddesdale\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was in Liddesdale (in Morven) a Farmer who suffered great loss\nwithin the space of one year. In the first place, his wife and children\ndied, and shortly after their death the Ploughman left him. The\nhiring-markets were then over, and there was no way of getting another\nploughman in place of the one that left. When spring came his neighbours\nbegan ploughing; but he had not a man to hold the plough, and he knew\nnot what he should do. The time was passing, and he was therefore losing\npatience. At last he said to himself, in a fit of passion, that he would\nengage the first man that came his way, whoever he should be.\n\nShortly after that a man came to the house. The Farmer met him at the\ndoor, and asked him whither was he going, or what was he seeking? He\nanswered that he was a ploughman, and that he wanted an engagement. \"I\nwant a ploughman, and if we agree about the wages, I will engage thee.\nWhat dost thou ask from this day to the day when the crop will be\ngathered in?\" \"Only as much of the corn when it shall be dry as I can\ncarry with me in one burden-withe.\" \"Thou shalt get that,\" said the\nFarmer, and they agreed.\n\nNext morning the Farmer went out with the Ploughman, and showed him the\nfields which he had to plough. Before they returned, the Ploughman went\nto the wood, and having cut three stakes, came back with them, and\nplaced one of them at the head of each one of the fields. After he had\ndone that he said to the Farmer, \"I will do the work now alone, and the\nploughing need no longer give thee anxiety.\"\n\nHaving said this, he went home and remained idle all that day. The next\nday came, but he remained idle as on the day before. After he had spent\na good while in that manner, the Farmer said to him that it was time for\nhim to begin work now, because the spring was passing away, and the\nneighbours had half their work finished. He replied, \"Oh, our land is\nnot ready yet.\" \"How dost thou think that?\" \"Oh, I know it by the\nstakes.\"\n\nIf the delay of the Ploughman made the Farmer wonder, this answer made\nhim wonder more. He resolved that he would keep his eye on him, and see\nwhat he was doing.\n\nThe Farmer rose early next morning, and saw the Ploughman going to the\nfirst field. When he reached the field, he pulled the stake at its end\nout of the ground, and put it to his nose. He shook his head and put the\nstake back in the ground. He then left the first field and went to the\nrest. He tried the stakes, shook his head, and returned home. In the\ndusk he went out the second time to the fields, tried the stakes, shook\nhis head, and after putting them again in the ground, went home. Next\nmorning he went out to the fields the third time. When he reached the\nfirst stake he pulled it out of the ground and put it to his nose as he\ndid on the foregoing days. But no sooner had he done that than he threw\nthe stake from him, and stretched away for the houses with all his\nmight.\n\nHe got the horses, the withes, and the plough, and when he reached the\nend of the first field with them, he thrust the plough into the ground,\nand cried:\n\n \"My horses and my leather-traces, and mettlesome lads,\n The earth is coming up!\"\n\nHe then began ploughing, kept at it all day at a terrible rate, and\nbefore the sun went down that night there was not a palm-breadth of the\nthree fields which he had not ploughed, sowed, and harrowed. When the\nFarmer saw this he was exceedingly well pleased, for he had his work\nfinished as soon as his neighbours.\n\nThe Ploughman was quick and ready to do everything that he was told, and\nso he and the Farmer agreed well until the harvest came. But on a\ncertain day when the reaping was over, the Farmer said to him that he\nthought the corn was dry enough for putting in. The Ploughman tried a\nsheaf or two, and answered that it was not dry yet. But shortly after\nthat day he said that it was now ready. \"If it is,\" said the Farmer, \"we\nbetter begin putting it in.\" \"We will not until I get my share out of it\nfirst,\" said the Ploughman. He then went off to the wood, and in a short\ntime returned, having in his hand a withe scraped and twisted. He\nstretched the withe on the field, and began to put the corn in it. He\ncontinued putting sheaf after sheaf in the withe until he had taken\nalmost all the sheaves that were on the field. The Farmer asked of him\nwhat he meant? \"Thou didst promise me as wages as much corn as I could\ncarry with me in one burden-withe, and here I have it now,\" said the\nPloughman, as he was shutting the withe.\n\nThe Farmer saw that he would be ruined by the Ploughman, and therefore\nsaid:\n\n \"'Twas in the Mart I sowed,\n 'Twas in the Mart I baked,\n 'Twas in the Mart I harrowed.\n Thou Who hast ordained the three Marts,\n Let not my share go in one burden-withe.\"\n\nInstantly the withe broke, and it made a loud report, which echo\nanswered from every rock far and near. Then the corn spread over the\nfield, and the Ploughman went away in a white mist in the skies, and was\nseen no more.\n\n\n\n\nThe Greek Princess and the Young Gardener\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was once a king, but I didn't hear what country he was over, and\nhe had one very beautiful daughter. Well, he was getting old and sickly,\nand the doctors found out that the finest medicine in the world for him\nwas the apples of a tree that grew in the orchard just under his window.\nSo you may be sure he had the tree well minded, and used to get the\napples counted from the time they were the size of small marbles. One\nharvest, just as they were beginning to turn ripe, the king was awakened\none night by the flapping of wings outside in the orchard; and when he\nlooked out, what did he see but a bird among the branches of his tree.\nIts feathers were so bright that they made a light all round them, and\nthe minute it saw the king in his night-cap and night-shirt it picked\noff an apple, and flew away. \"Oh, botheration to that thief of a\ngardener!\" says the king, \"this is a nice way he's watching my precious\nfruit.\"\n\nHe didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night; and as soon as any one was\nstirring in the palace, he sent for the gardener, and abused him for his\nneglect.\n\n\"Please your Majesty!\" says he, \"not another apple you shall lose. My\nthree sons are the best shots at the bow and arrow in the kingdom, and\nthey and myself will watch in turn every night.\"\n\nWhen the night came, the gardener's eldest son took his post in the\ngarden, with his bow strung and his arrow between his fingers, and\nwatched, and watched. But at the dead hour, the king, that was wide\nawake, heard the flapping of wings, and ran to the window. There was the\nbright bird in the tree, and the boy fast asleep, sitting with his back\nto the wall, and his bow on his lap.\n\n\"Rise, you lazy thief!\" says the king, \"there's the bird again,\nbotheration to her!\"\n\nUp jumped the poor fellow; but while he was fumbling with the arrow and\nthe string, away was the bird with the nicest apple on the tree. Well,\nto be sure, how the king fumed and fretted, and how he abused the\ngardener and the boy, and what a twenty-four hours he spent till\nmidnight came again!\n\nHe had his eye this time on the second son of the gardener; but though\nhe was up and lively enough when the clock began to strike twelve, it\nwasn't done with the last bang when he saw him stretched like one dead\non the long grass, and saw the bright bird again, and heard the flap of\nher wings, and saw her carry away the third apple. The poor fellow woke\nwith the roar the king let at him, and even was in time enough to let\nfly an arrow after the bird. He did not hit her, you may depend; and\nthough the king was mad enough, he saw the poor fellows were under\n_pishtrogues_, and could not help it.\n\nWell, he had some hopes out of the youngest, for he was a brave, active\nyoung fellow, that had everybody's good word. There he was ready, and\nthere was the king watching him, and talking to him at the first stroke\nof twelve. At the last clang, the brightness coming before the bird\nlighted up the wall and the trees, and the rushing of the wings was\nheard as it flew into the branches; but at the same instant the crack of\nthe arrow on her side might be heard a quarter of a mile off. Down came\nthe arrow and a large bright feather along with it, and away was the\nbird, with a screech that was enough to break the drum of your ear. She\nhadn't time to carry off an apple; and bedad, when the feather was\nthrown up into the king's room it was heavier than lead, and turned out\nto be the finest beaten gold.\n\nWell, there was great _cooramuch_ made about the youngest boy next day,\nand he watched night after night for a week, but not a mite of a bird or\nbird's feather was to be seen, and then the king told him to go home and\nsleep. Every one admired the beauty of the gold feather beyond anything,\nbut the king was fairly bewitched. He was turning it round and round,\nand rubbing it against his forehead and his nose the live-long day; and\nat last he proclaimed that he'd give his daughter and half his kingdom\nto whoever would bring him the bird with the gold feathers, dead or\nalive.\n\nThe gardener's eldest son had great conceit of himself, and away he went\nto look for the bird. In the afternoon he sat down under a tree to rest\nhimself, and eat a bit of bread and cold meat that he had in his\nwallet, when up comes as fine a looking fox as you'd see in the burrow\nof Munfin. \"Musha, sir,\" says he, \"would you spare a bit of that meat to\na poor body that's hungry?\"\n\n\"Well,\" says the other, \"you must have the divil's own assurance, you\ncommon robber, to ask me such a question. Here's the answer,\" and he let\nfly at the _moddhereen rua_.\n\nThe arrow scraped from his side up over his back, as if he was made of\nhammered iron, and stuck in a tree a couple of perches off.\n\n\"Foul play,\" says the fox; \"but I respect your young brother, and will\ngive a bit of advice. At nightfall you'll come into a village. One side\nof the street you'll see a large room lighted up, and filled with young\nmen and women, dancing and drinking. The other side you'll see a house\nwith no light, only from the fire in the front room, and no one near it\nbut a man and his wife, and their child. Take a fool's advice, and get\nlodging there.\" With that he curled his tail over his crupper, and\ntrotted off.\n\nThe boy found things as the fox said, but _begonies_ he chose the\ndancing and drinking, and there we'll leave him. In a week's time, when\nthey got tired at home waiting for him, the second son said he'd try his\nfortune, and off he set. He was just as ill-natured and foolish as his\nbrother, and the same thing happened to him. Well, when a week was over,\naway went the youngest of all, and as sure as the hearth-money, he sat\nunder the same tree, and pulled out his bread and meat, and the same fox\ncame up and saluted him. Well, the young fellow shared his dinner with\nthe _moddhereen_, and he wasn't long beating about the bush, but told\nthe other he knew all about his business.\n\n\"I'll help you,\" says he, \"if I find you're biddable. So just at\nnightfall you'll come into a village.... Good-bye till to-morrow.\"\n\nIt was just as the fox said, but the boy took care not to go near\ndancer, drinker, fiddler, or piper. He got welcome in the quiet house to\nsupper and bed, and was on his journey next morning before the sun was\nthe height of the trees.\n\nHe wasn't gone a quarter of a mile when he saw the fox coming out of a\nwood that was by the roadside.\n\n\"Good-morrow, fox,\" says one.\n\n\"Good-morrow, sir,\" says the other.\n\n\"Have you any notion how far you have to travel till you find the golden\nbird?\"\n\n\"Dickens a notion have I;--how could I?\"\n\n\"Well, I have. She's in the King of Spain's palace, and that's a good\ntwo hundred miles off.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear! we'll be a week going.\"\n\n\"No, we won't. Sit down on my tail, and we'll soon make the road short.\"\n\n\"Tail, indeed! that 'ud be the droll saddle, my poor _moddhereen_.\"\n\n\"Do as I tell you, or I'll leave you to yourself.\"\n\nWell, rather than vex him he sat down on the tail that was spread out\nlevel like a wing, and away they went like thought. They overtook the\nwind that was before them, and the wind that came after didn't overtake\nthem. In the afternoon, they stopped in a wood near the King of Spain's\npalace, and there they stayed till nightfall.\n\n\"Now,\" says the fox, \"I'll go before you to make the minds of the guards\neasy, and you'll have nothing to do but go from lighted hall to another\nlighted hall till you find the golden bird in the last. If you have a\nhead on you, you'll bring himself and his cage outside the door, and no\none then can lay hands on him or you. If you haven't a head I can't help\nyou, nor no one else.\" So he went over to the gates.\n\nIn a quarter of an hour the boy followed, and in the first hall he\npassed he saw a score of armed guards standing upright, but all dead\nasleep. In the next he saw a dozen, and in the next half a dozen, and in\nthe next three, and in the room beyond that there was no guard at all,\nnor lamp, nor candle, but it was as bright as day; for there was the\ngolden bird in a common wood and wire cage, and on the table were the\nthree apples turned into solid gold.\n\nOn the same table was the most lovely golden cage eye ever beheld, and\nit entered the boy's head that it would be a thousand pities not to put\nthe precious bird into it, the common cage was so unfit for her. Maybe\nhe thought of the money it was worth; anyhow he made the exchange, and\nhe had soon good reason to be sorry for it. The instant the shoulder of\nthe bird's wing touched the golden wires, he let such a _squawk_ out of\nhim as was enough to break all the panes of glass in the windows, and at\nthe same minute the three men, and the half-dozen, and the dozen, and\nthe score men, woke up and clattered their swords and spears, and\nsurrounded the poor boy, and jibed, and cursed, and swore at home, till\nhe didn't know whether it's his foot or head he was standing on. They\ncalled the king, and told him what happened, and he put on a very grim\nface. \"It's on a gibbet you ought to be this moment,\" says he, \"but I'll\ngive you a chance of your life, and of the golden bird, too. I lay you\nunder prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction, to go\nand bring me the King of _Moroco's_ bay filly that outruns the wind,\nand leaps over the walls of castle-bawns. When you fetch her into the\nbawn of this palace, you must get the golden bird, and liberty to go\nwhere you please.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOut passed the boy, very down-hearted, but as he went along, who should\ncome out of a brake but the fox again.\n\n\"Ah, my friend,\" says he, \"I was right when I suspected you hadn't a\nhead on you; but I won't rub your hair again' the grain. Get on my tail\nagain, and when we come to the King of Moroco's palace, we'll see\nwhat we can do.\"\n\nSo away they went like thought. The wind that was before them they would\novertake; the wind that was behind them would not overtake them.\n\nWell, the nightfall came on them in a wood near the palace, and says the\nfox, \"I'll go and make things easy for you at the stables, and when you\nare leading out the filly, don't let her touch the door, nor doorposts,\nnor anything but the ground, and that with her hoofs; and if you haven't\na head on you once you are in the stable, you'll be worse off than\nbefore.\"\n\nSo the boy delayed for a quarter of an hour, and then he went into the\nbig bawn of the palace. There were two rows of armed men reaching from\nthe gate to the stable, and every man was in the depth of deep sleep,\nand through them went the boy till he got into the stable. There was the\nfilly, as handsome a beast as ever stretched leg, and there was one\nstable-boy with a currycomb in his hand, and another with a bridle, and\nanother with a sieve of oats, and another with an armful of hay, and all\nas if they were cut out of stone. The filly was the only live thing in\nthe place except himself. She had a common wood and leather saddle on\nher back, but a golden saddle with the nicest work on it was hung from\nthe post, and he thought it the greatest pity not to put it in place of\nthe other. Well, I believe there was some _pishrogues_ over it for a\nsaddle; anyhow, he took off the other, and put the gold one in its\nplace.\n\nOut came a squeal from the filly's throat when she felt the strange\narticle, that might be heard from Tombrick to Bunclody, and all as\nready were the armed men and the stable-boys to run and surround the\n_omadhan_ of a boy, and the King of Moroco was soon there along with\nthe rest, with a face on him as black as the sole of your foot. After he\nstood enjoying the abuse the poor boy got from everybody for some time,\nhe says to him, \"You deserve high hanging for your impudence, but I'll\ngive you a chance for your life and the filly, too. I lay on you all\nsorts of prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction to\ngo bring me Princess Golden Locks, the King of Greek's daughter. When\nyou deliver her into my hand, you may have the 'daughter of the wind,'\nand welcome. Come in and take your supper and your rest, and be off at\nthe flight of night.\"\n\nThe poor boy was down in the mouth, you may suppose, as he was walking\naway next morning, and very much ashamed when the fox looked up in his\nface after coming out of the wood.\n\n\"What a thing it is,\" says he, \"not to have a head when a body wants it\nworst; and here we have a fine long journey before us to the King of\nGreek's palace. The worse luck now, the same always. Here, get on my\ntail, and we'll be making the road shorter.\"\n\nSo he sat on the fox's tail, and swift as thought they went. The wind\nthat was before them they would overtake it, the wind that was behind\nthem would not overtake them, and in the evening they were eating their\nbread and cold meat in the wood near the castle.\n\n\"Now,\" says the fox, when they were done, \"I'll go before you to make\nthings easy. Follow me in a quarter of an hour. Don't let Princess\nGolden Locks touch the jambs of the doors with her hands, or hair, or\nclothes, and if you're asked any favour, mind how you answer. Once she's\noutside the door, no one can take her from you.\"\n\nInto the palace walked the boy at the proper time, and there were the\nscore, and the dozen, and the half-dozen, and the three guards all\nstanding up or leaning on their arms, and all dead asleep, and in the\nfarthest room of all was the Princess Golden Locks, as lovely as Venus\nherself. She was asleep in one chair, and her father, the King of Greek,\nin another. He stood before her for ever so long with the love sinking\ndeeper into his heart every minute, till at last he went down on one\nknee, and took her darling white hand in his hand, and kissed it.\n\nWhen she opened her eyes, she was a little frightened, but I believe not\nvery angry, for the boy, as I call him, was a fine handsome young\nfellow, and all the respect and love that ever you could think of was in\nhis face. She asked him what he wanted, and he stammered, and blushed,\nand began his story six times, before she understood it.\n\n\"And would you give me up to that ugly black King of Moroco?\" says\nshe.\n\n\"I am obliged to do so,\" says he, \"by prohibitions, and restrictions,\nand death, and destruction, but I'll have his life and free you, or lose\nmy own. If I can't get you for my wife, my days on the earth will be\nshort.\"\n\n\"Well,\" says she, \"let me take leave of my father at any rate.\"\n\n\"Ah, I can't do that,\" says he, \"or they'd all waken, and myself would\nbe put to death, or sent to some task worse than any I got yet.\"\n\nBut she asked leave at any rate to kiss the old man; that wouldn't\nwaken him, and then she'd go. How could he refuse her, and his heart\ntied up in every curl of her hair? But, bedad, the moment her lips\ntouched her father's, he let a cry, and every one of the score, the\ndozen guards woke up, and clashed their arms, and were going to make\n_gibbets_ of the foolish boy.\n\nBut the king ordered them to hold their hands, till he'd be _insensed_\nof what it was all about, and when he heard the boy's story he gave him\na chance for his life.\n\n\"There is,\" says he, \"a great heap of clay in front of the palace, that\nwon't let the sun shine on the walls in the middle of summer. Every one\nthat ever worked at it found two shovelfuls added to it for every one\nthey threw away. Remove it, and I'll let my daughter go with you. If\nyou're the man I suspect you to be, I think she'll be in no danger of\nbeing wife to that yellow _Molott_.\"\n\nEarly next morning was the boy tackled to his work, and for every\nshovelful he flung away two came back on him, and at last he could\nhardly get out of the heap that gathered round him. Well, the poor\nfellow scrambled out some way, and sat down on a sod, and he'd have\ncried only for the shame of it. He began at it in ever so many places,\nand one was still worse than the other, and in the heel of the evening,\nwhen he was sitting with his head between his hands, who should be\nstanding before him but the fox.\n\n\"Well, my poor fellow,\" says he, \"you're low enough. Go in: I won't say\nanything to add to your trouble. Take your supper and your rest:\nto-morrow will be a new day.\"\n\n\"How is the work going off?\" says the king, when they were at supper.\n\n[Illustration: THE GREEK PRINCESS]\n\n\"Faith, your Majesty,\" says the poor boy, \"it's not going off, but\ncoming on it is. I suppose you'll have the trouble of digging me out at\nsunset to-morrow, and waking me.\"\n\n\"I hope not,\" says the princess, with a smile on her kind face; and the\nboy was as happy as anything the rest of the evening.\n\nHe was wakened up next morning with voices shouting, and bugles blowing,\nand drums beating, and such a hullibulloo he never heard in his life\nbefore. He ran out to see what was the matter, and there, where the heap\nof clay was the evening before, were soldiers, and servants, and lords,\nand ladies, dancing like mad for joy that it was gone.\n\n\"Ah, my poor fox!\" says he to himself, \"this is your work.\"\n\nWell, there was little delay about his return. The king was going to\nsend a great retinue with the princess and himself, but he wouldn't let\nhim take the trouble.\n\n\"I have a friend,\" says he, \"that will bring us both to the King of\nMoroco's palace in a day, d---- fly away with him!\"\n\nThere was great crying when she was parting from her father.\n\n\"Ah!\" says he, \"what a lonesome life I'll have now! Your poor brother in\nthe power of that wicked witch, and kept away from us, and now you taken\nfrom me in my old age!\"\n\nWell, they both were walking on through the wood, and he telling her how\nmuch he loved her; out walked the fox from behind a brake, and in a\nshort time he and she were sitting on the brush, and holding one another\nfast for fear of slipping off, and away they went like thought. The\nwind that was before them they would overtake it, and in the evening he\nand she were in the big bawn of the King of Moroco's castle.\n\n\"Well,\" says he to the boy, \"you've done your duty well; bring out the\nbay filly. I'd give the full of the bawn of such fillies, if I had them,\nfor this handsome princess. Get on your steed, and here is a good purse\nof guineas for the road.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Thank you,\" says he. \"I suppose you'll let me shake hands with the\nprincess before I start.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed, and welcome.\"\n\nWell, he was some little time about the hand-shaking, and before it was\nover he had her fixed snug behind him; and while you could count three,\nhe, and she, and the filly were through all the guards, and a hundred\nperches away. On they went, and next morning they were in the wood near\nthe King of Spain's palace, and there was the fox before them.\n\n\"Leave your princess here with me,\" says he, \"and go get the golden bird\nand the three apples. If you don't bring us back the filly along with\nthe bird, I must carry you both home myself.\"\n\nWell, when the King of Spain saw the boy and the filly in the bawn, he\nmade the golden bird, and the golden cage, and the golden apples be\nbrought out and handed to him, and was very thankful and very glad of\nhis prize. But the boy could not part with the nice beast without\npetting it and rubbing it; and while no one was expecting such a thing,\nhe was up on its back, and through the guards, and a hundred perches\naway, and he wasn't long till he came to where he left his princess and\nthe fox.\n\nThey hurried away till they were safe out of the King of Spain's land,\nand then they went on easier; and if I was to tell you all the loving\nthings they said to one another, the story wouldn't be over till\nmorning. When they were passing the village of the dance house, they\nfound his two brothers begging, and they brought them along. When they\ncame to where the fox appeared first, he begged the young man to cut off\nhis head and his tail. He would not do it for him; he shivered at the\nvery thought, but the eldest brother was ready enough. The head and tail\nvanished with the blows, and the body changed into the finest young man\nyou could see, and who was he but the princess's brother that was\nbewitched. Whatever joy they had before, they had twice as much now, and\nwhen they arrived at the palace bonfires were set blazing, oxes\nroasting, and puncheons of wine put out in the lawn. The young Prince\nof Greece was married to the king's daughter, and the prince's sister to\nthe gardener's son. He and she went a shorter way back to her father's\nhouse, with many attendants, and the king was so glad of the golden bird\nand the golden apples, that he had sent a waggon full of gold and a\nwaggon full of silver along with them.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe Russet Dog\n\n\n[Illustration: O]\n\nOh, he's a rare clever fellow, is the Russet Dog, the Fox, I suppose you\ncall him. Have you ever heard the way he gets rid of his fleas? He hunts\nabout and he hunts about till he finds a lock of wool: then he takes it\nin his mouth, and down he goes to the river and turns his tail to the\nstream, and goes in backwards. And as the water comes up to his haunches\nthe little fleas come forward, and the more he dips into the river the\nmore they come forward, till at last he has got nothing but his snout\nand the lock of wool above water; then the little fleas rush into his\nsnout and into the lock of wool. Down he dips his nose, and as soon as\nhe feels his nose free of them, he lets go the lock of wool, and so he\nis free of his fleas. Ah, but that is nothing to the way in which he\ncatches ducks for his dinner. He will gather some heather, and put his\nhead in the midst of it, and then will slip down stream to the place\nwhere the ducks are swimming, for all the world like a piece of\nfloating heather. Then he lets go, and--gobble, gobble, gobble, till not\na duck is left alive. And he is as brave as he is clever. It is said\nthat once he found the bagpipes lying all alone, and being very hungry\nbegan to gnaw at them: but as soon as he made a hole in the bag, out\ncame a squeal. Was the Russet Dog afraid? Never a bit: all he said was:\n\"Here's music with my dinner.\"\n\nNow a Russet Dog had noticed for some days a family of wrens, off which\nhe wished to dine. He might have been satisfied with one, but he was\ndetermined to have the whole lot--father and eighteen sons--but all so\nlike that he could not tell one from the other, or the father from the\nchildren.\n\n\"It is no use to kill one son,\" he said to himself, \"because the old\ncock will take warning and fly away with the seventeen. I wish I knew\nwhich is the old gentleman.\"\n\nHe set his wits to work to find out, and one day seeing them all\nthreshing in a barn, he sat down to watch them; still he could not be\nsure.\n\n\"Now I have it,\" he said; \"well done the old man's stroke! He hits\ntrue,\" he cried.\n\n\"Oh!\" replied the one he suspected of being the head of the family, \"if\nyou had seen my grandfather's strokes, you might have said that.\"\n\nThe sly fox pounced on the cock, ate him up in a trice, and then soon\ncaught and disposed of the eighteen sons, all flying in terror about the\nbarn.\n\nFor a long time a Tod-hunter had been very anxious to catch our friend\nthe fox, and had stopped all the earths in cold weather. One evening he\nfell asleep in his hut; and when he opened his eyes he saw the fox\nsitting very demurely at the side of the fire. It had entered by the\nhole under the door provided for the convenience of the dog, the cat,\nthe pig, and the hen.\n\n\"Oh! ho!\" said the Tod-hunter, \"now I have you.\" And he went and sat\ndown at the hole to prevent Reynard's escape.\n\n\"Oh! ho!\" said the fox, \"I will soon make that stupid fellow get up.\" So\nhe found the man's shoes, and putting them into the fire, wondered if\nthat would make the enemy move.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"I shan't get up for that, my fine gentleman,\" cried the Tod-hunter.\n\nStockings followed the shoes, coat and trousers shared the same fate,\nbut still the man sat over the hole. At last the fox having set the bed\nand bedding on fire, put a light to the straw on which his jailer lay,\nand it blazed up to the ceiling.\n\n\"No! that I cannot stand,\" shouted the man, jumping up; and the fox,\ntaking advantage of the smoke and confusion, made good his exit.\n\nBut Master Rory did not always have it his own way. One day he met a\ncock, and they began talking.\n\n\"How many tricks canst thou do?\" said the fox.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Well,\" said the cock, \"I could do three; how many canst thou do\nthyself?\"\n\n\"I could do three score and thirteen,\" said the fox.\n\n\"What tricks canst thou do?\" said the cock.\n\n\"Well,\" said the fox, \"my grandfather used to shut one eye and give a\ngreat shout.\"\n\n\"I could do that myself,\" said the cock.\n\n\"Do it,\" said the fox. And the cock shut one eye and crowed as loud as\never he could, but he shut the eye that was next the fox, and the fox\ngripped him by the neck and ran away with him. But the wife to whom the\ncock belonged saw him and cried out, \"Let go the cock; he's mine.\"\n\n\"Say, 'Oh sweet-tongued singer, it is my own cock,' wilt thou not?\" said\nthe cock to the fox.\n\nThen the fox opened his mouth to say as the cock did, and he dropped the\ncock, and he sprung up on the top of a house, and shut one eye and gave\na loud crow.\n\nBut it was through that very fox that Master Wolf lost his tail. Have\nyou never heard about that?\n\nOne day the wolf and the fox were out together, and they stole a dish of\ncrowdie. Now in those days the wolf was the biggest beast of the two,\nand he had a long tail like a greyhound and great teeth.\n\nThe fox was afraid of him, and did not dare to say a word when the wolf\nate the most of the crowdie, and left only a little at the bottom of the\ndish for him, but he determined to punish him for it; so the next night\nwhen they were out together the fox pointed to the image of the moon in\na pool left in the ice, and said:\n\n\"I smell a very nice cheese, and there it is, too.\"\n\n\"And how will you get it?\" said the wolf.\n\n\"Well, stop you here till I see if the farmer is asleep, and if you keep\nyour tail on it, nobody will see you or know that it is there. Keep it\nsteady. I may be some time coming back.\"\n\nSo the wolf lay down and laid his tail on the moonshine in the ice, and\nkept it for an hour till it was fast. Then the fox, who had been\nwatching, ran in to the farmer and said: \"The wolf is there; he will eat\nup the children--the wolf! the wolf!\"\n\nThen the farmer and his wife came out with sticks to kill the wolf, but\nthe wolf ran off leaving his tail behind him, and that's why the wolf is\nstumpy-tailed to this day, though the fox has a long brush.\n\nOne day shortly after this Master Rory chanced to see a fine cock and\nfat hen, off which he wished to dine, but at his approach they both\njumped up into a tree. He did not lose heart, but soon began to make\ntalk with them, inviting them at last to go a little way with him.\n\n\"There was no danger,\" he said, \"nor fear of his hurting them, for there\nwas peace between men and beasts, and among all animals.\"\n\nAt last after much parleying the cock said to the hen, \"My dear, do you\nnot see a couple of hounds coming across the field?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the hen, \"and they will soon be here.\"\n\n\"If that is the case, it is time I should be off,\" said the sly fox,\n\"for I am afraid these stupid hounds may not have heard of the peace.\"\n\nAnd with that he took to his heels and never drew breath till he reached\nhis den.\n\nNow Master Rory had not finished with his friend the wolf. So he went\nround to see him when his stump got better.\n\n\"It is lucky you are,\" he said to the wolf. \"How much better you will be\nable to run now you haven't got all that to carry behind you.\"\n\n\"Away from me, traitor!\" said the wolf.\n\nBut Master Rory said: \"Is it a traitor I am, when all I have come to see\nyou for is to tell you about a keg of butter I have found?\"\n\nAfter much grumbling the wolf agreed to go with Master Rory.\n\nSo the Russet Dog and the wild dog, the fox and the wolf, were going\ntogether; and they went round about the sea-shore, and they found the\nkeg of butter, and they buried it.\n\nOn the morrow the fox went out, and when he returned in he said that a\nman had come to ask him to a baptism. He arrayed himself in excellent\nattire, and he went away, and where should he go but to the butter keg;\nand when he came home the wolf asked him what the child's name was; and\nhe said it was HEAD OFF.\n\nOn the morrow he said that a man had sent to ask him to a baptism, and\nhe reached the keg and he took out about half. The wolf asked when he\ncame home what the child's name was.\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"it is a queer name that I myself would not give to my\nchild, if I had him; it is HALF AND HALF.\"\n\nOn the morrow he said that there was a man there came to ask him to a\nbaptism again; off he went and he reached the keg, and he ate it all up.\nWhen he came home the wolf asked him what the child's name was, and he\nsaid it was ALL GONE.\n\nOn the morrow he said to the wolf that they ought to bring the keg home.\nThey went, and when they reached the keg there was not a shadow of the\nbutter in it.\n\n\"Well, thou wert surely coming here to watch this, though I was not,\"\nquoth the fox.\n\nThe other one swore that he had not come near it.\n\n\"Thou needst not be swearing that thou didst not come here; I know that\nthou didst come, and that it was thou that took it out; but I will know\nit from thee when thou goest home, if it was thou that ate the butter,\"\nsaid the fox.\n\nOff they went, and when they got home he hung the wolf by his hind legs,\nwith his head dangling below him, and he had a dab of the butter and he\nput it under the wolf's mouth, as if it was out of the wolf's belly that\nit came.\n\n\"Thou red thief!\" said he, \"I said before that it was thou that ate the\nbutter.\"\n\nThey slept that night, and on the morrow when they rose the fox said:\n\n\"Well, then, it is silly for ourselves to be starving to death in this\nway merely for laziness; we will go to a town-land, and we will take a\npiece of land in it.\"\n\nThey reached the town-land, and the man to whom it belonged gave them a\npiece of land the worth of seven Saxon pounds.\n\nIt was oats that they set that year, and they reaped it and they began\nto divide it.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said the fox, \"wouldst thou rather have the root or the\ntip? thou shalt have thy choice.\"\n\n\"I'd rather the root,\" said the wolf.\n\nThen the fox had fine oaten bread all the year, and the other one had\nfodder.\n\nOn the next year they set a crop; and it was potatoes that they set, and\nthey grew well.\n\n\"Which wouldst thou like best, the root or the crop this year?\" said the\nfox.\n\n\"Indeed, thou shalt not take the twist out of me any more; I will have\nthe top this year,\" quoth the wolf.\n\n\"Good enough, my hero,\" said the fox.\n\nThus the wolf had the potato tops, and the fox the potatoes. But the\nwolf used to keep stealing the potatoes from the fox.\n\n\"Thou hadst best go yonder, and read the name that I have in the hoofs\nof the grey mare,\" quoth the fox.\n\nAway went the wolf, and he begun to read the name; and on a time of\nthese times the white mare drew up her leg, and she broke the wolf's\nhead.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the fox, \"it is long since I heard my name. Better to catch\ngeese than to read books.\"\n\nHe went home, and the wolf was not troubling him any more.\n\nBut the Russet Dog found his match at last, as I shall tell you.\n\nOne day the fox was once going over a loch, and there met him a little\nbonnach, and the fox asked him where he was going. The little bonnach\ntold him he was going to such a place.\n\n\"And whence camest thou?\" said the fox.\n\n\"I came from Geeogan, and I came from Cooaigean, and I came from the\nslab of the bonnach stone, and I came from the eye of the quern, and I\nwill come from thee if I may,\" quoth the little bonnach.\n\n\"Well, I myself will take thee over on my back,\" said the fox.\n\n\"Thou'lt eat me, thou'lt eat me,\" quoth the little bonnach.\n\n\"Come then on the tip of my tail,\" said the fox.\n\n\"Oh no! I will not; thou wilt eat me,\" said the little bonnach.\n\n\"Come into my ear,\" said the fox.\n\n\"I will not go; thou wilt eat me,\" said the little bonnach.\n\n\"Come into my mouth,\" said the fox.\n\n\"Thou wilt eat me that way at all events,\" said the little bonnach.\n\n\"Oh no, I will not eat thee,\" said the fox. \"When I am swimming I cannot\neat anything at all.\"\n\nHe went into the fox's mouth.\n\n\"Oh! ho!\" said the fox, \"I may do my own pleasure on thee now. It was\nlong ago said that a hard morsel is no good in the mouth.\"\n\nThe fox ate the little bonnach. Then he went to a loch, and he caught\nhold of a duck that was in it, and he ate that.\n\nHe went up to a hillside, and he began to stroke his sides on the hill.\n\n\"Oh, king! how finely a bullet would spank upon my rib just now.\"\n\nWho was listening but a hunter.\n\n\"I'll try that upon thee directly,\" said the hunter.\n\n\"Bad luck to this place,\" quoth the fox, \"in which a creature dares not\nsay a word in fun that is not taken in earnest.\"\n\nThe hunter put a bullet in his gun, and he fired at him and killed him,\nand that was the end of the Russet Dog.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSmallhead and the King's Sons\n\n\n[Illustration: L]\n\nLong ago there lived in Erin a woman who married a man of high degree\nand had one daughter. Soon after the birth of the daughter the husband\ndied.\n\nThe woman was not long a widow when she married a second time, and had\ntwo daughters. These two daughters hated their half-sister, thought she\nwas not so wise as another, and nicknamed her Smallhead. When the elder\nof the two sisters was fourteen years old their father died. The mother\nwas in great grief then, and began to pine away. She used to sit at home\nin the corner and never left the house. Smallhead was kind to her\nmother, and the mother was fonder of her eldest daughter than of the\nother two, who were ashamed of her.\n\nAt last the two sisters made up in their minds to kill their mother.\nOne day, while their half-sister was gone, they put the mother in a pot,\nboiled her, and threw the bones outside. When Smallhead came home there\nwas no sign of the mother.\n\n\"Where is my mother?\" asked she of the other two.\n\n\"She went out somewhere. How should we know where she is?\"\n\n\"Oh, wicked girls! you have killed my mother,\" said Smallhead.\n\nSmallhead wouldn't leave the house now at all, and the sisters were very\nangry.\n\n\"No man will marry either one of us,\" said they, \"if he sees our fool of\na sister.\"\n\nSince they could not drive Smallhead from the house they made up their\nminds to go away themselves. One fine morning they left home unknown to\ntheir half-sister and travelled on many miles. When Smallhead discovered\nthat her sisters were gone she hurried after them and never stopped till\nshe came up with the two. They had to go home with her that day, but\nthey scolded her bitterly.\n\nThe two settled then to kill Smallhead, so one day they took twenty\nneedles and scattered them outside in a pile of straw. \"We are going to\nthat hill beyond,\" said they, \"to stay till evening, and if you have not\nall the needles that are in that straw outside gathered and on the\ntables before us, we'll have your life.\"\n\nAway they went to the hill. Smallhead sat down, and was crying bitterly\nwhen a short grey cat walked in and spoke to her.\n\n\"Why do you cry and lament so?\" asked the cat.\n\n\"My sisters abuse me and beat me,\" answered Smallhead. \"This morning\nthey said they would kill me in the evening unless I had all the needles\nin the straw outside gathered before them.\"\n\n\"Sit down here,\" said the cat, \"and dry your tears.\"\n\nThe cat soon found the twenty needles and brought them to Smallhead.\n\"Stop there now,\" said the cat, \"and listen to what I tell you. I am\nyour mother; your sisters killed me and destroyed my body, but don't\nharm them; do them good, do the best you can for them, save them: obey\nmy words and it will be better for you in the end.\"\n\nThe cat went away for herself, and the sisters came home in the evening.\nThe needles were on the table before them. Oh, but they were vexed and\nangry when they saw the twenty needles, and they said some one was\nhelping their sister!\n\nOne night when Smallhead was in bed and asleep they started away again,\nresolved this time never to return. Smallhead slept till morning. When\nshe saw that the sisters were gone she followed, traced them from place\nto place, inquired here and there day after day, till one evening some\nperson told her that they were in the house of an old hag, a terrible\nenchantress, who had one son and three daughters: that the house was a\nbad place to be in, for the old hag had more power of witchcraft than\nany one and was very wicked.\n\nSmallhead hurried away to save her sisters, and facing the house knocked\nat the door, and asked lodgings for God's sake.\n\n\"Oh, then,\" said the hag, \"it is hard to refuse any one lodgings, and\nbesides on such a wild, stormy night. I wonder if you are anything to\nthe young ladies who came the way this evening?\"\n\nThe two sisters heard this and were angry enough that Smallhead was in\nit, but they said nothing, not wishing the old hag to know their\nrelationship. After supper the hag told the three strangers to sleep in\na room on the right side of the house. When her own daughters were going\nto bed Smallhead saw her tie a ribbon around the neck of each one of\nthem, and heard her say: \"Do you sleep in the left-hand bed.\" Smallhead\nhurried and said to her sisters: \"Come quickly, or I'll tell the woman\nwho you are.\"\n\nThey took the bed in the left-hand room and were in it before the hag's\ndaughters came.\n\n\"Oh,\" said the daughters, \"the other bed is as good.\" So they took the\nbed in the right-hand room. When Smallhead knew that the hag's daughters\nwere asleep she rose, took the ribbons off their necks, and put them on\nher sister's necks and on her own. She lay awake and watched them. After\na while she heard the hag say to her son:\n\n\"Go, now, and kill the three girls; they have the clothes and money.\"\n\n\"You have killed enough in your life and so let these go,\" said the son.\n\nBut the old woman would not listen. The boy rose up, fearing his mother,\nand taking a long knife, went to the right-hand room and cut the throats\nof the three girls without ribbons. He went to bed then for himself, and\nwhen Smallhead found that the old hag was asleep she roused her sisters,\ntold what had happened, made them dress quickly and follow her.\nBelieve me, they were willing and glad to follow her this time.\n\n[Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF BLOOD]\n\nThe three travelled briskly and came soon to a bridge, called at that\ntime \"The Bridge of Blood.\" Whoever had killed a person could not cross\nthe bridge. When the three girls came to the bridge the two sisters\nstopped: they could not go a step further. Smallhead ran across and went\nback again.\n\n\"If I did not know that you killed our mother,\" said she, \"I might know\nit now, for this is the Bridge of Blood.\"\n\nShe carried one sister over the bridge on her back and then the other.\nHardly was this done when the hag was at the bridge.\n\n\"Bad luck to you, Smallhead!\" said she, \"I did not know that it was you\nthat was in it last evening. You have killed my three daughters.\"\n\n\"It wasn't I that killed them, but yourself,\" said Smallhead.\n\nThe old hag could not cross the bridge, so she began to curse, and she\nput every curse on Smallhead that she could remember. The sisters\ntravelled on till they came to a King's castle. They heard that two\nservants were needed in the castle.\n\n\"Go now,\" said Smallhead to the two sisters, \"and ask for service. Be\nfaithful and do well. You can never go back by the road you came.\"\n\nThe two found employment at the King's castle. Smallhead took lodgings\nin the house of a blacksmith near by.\n\n\"I should be glad to find a place as kitchen-maid in the castle,\" said\nSmallhead to the blacksmith's wife.\n\n\"I will go to the castle and find a place for you if I can,\" said the\nwoman.\n\nThe blacksmith's wife found a place for Smallhead as kitchen-maid in the\ncastle, and she went there next day.\n\n\"I must be careful,\" thought Smallhead, \"and do my best. I am in a\nstrange place. My two sisters are here in the King's castle. Who knows,\nwe may have great fortune yet.\"\n\nShe dressed neatly and was cheerful. Every one liked her, liked her\nbetter than her sisters, though they were beautiful. The King had two\nsons, one at home and the other abroad. Smallhead thought to herself one\nday: \"It is time for the son who is here in the castle to marry. I will\nspeak to him the first time I can.\" One day she saw him alone in the\ngarden, went up to him, and said:\n\n\"Why are you not getting married, it is high time for you?\"\n\nHe only laughed and thought she was too bold, but then thinking that she\nwas a simple-minded girl who wished to be pleasant, he said:\n\n\"I will tell you the reason: My grandfather bound my father by an oath\nnever to let his oldest son marry until he could get the Sword of Light,\nand I am afraid that I shall be long without marrying.\"\n\n\"Do you know where the Sword of Light is, or who has it?\" asked\nSmallhead.\n\n\"I do,\" said the King's son, \"an old hag who has great power and\nenchantment, and she lives a long distance from this, beyond the Bridge\nof Blood. I cannot go there myself, I cannot cross the bridge, for I\nhave killed men in battle. Even if I could cross the bridge I would not\ngo, for many is the King's son that hag has destroyed or enchanted.\"\n\n\"Suppose some person were to bring the Sword of Light, and that person a\nwoman, would you marry her?\"\n\n\"I would, indeed,\" said the King's son.\n\n\"If you promise to marry my elder sister I will strive to bring the\nSword of Light.\"\n\n\"I will promise most willingly,\" said the King's son.\n\nNext morning early, Smallhead set out on her journey. Calling at the\nfirst shop she bought a stone weight of salt, and went on her way, never\nstopping or resting till she reached the hag's house at nightfall. She\nclimbed to the gable, looked down, and saw the son making a great pot of\nstirabout for his mother, and she hurrying him. \"I am as hungry as a\nhawk!\" cried she.\n\nWhenever the boy looked away, Smallhead dropped salt down, dropped it\nwhen he was not looking, dropped it till she had the whole stone of salt\nin the stirabout. The old hag waited and waited till at last she cried\nout: \"Bring the stirabout. I am starving! Bring the pot. I will eat from\nthe pot. Give the milk here as well.\"\n\nThe boy brought the stirabout and the milk, the old woman began to eat,\nbut the first taste she got she spat out and screamed: \"You put salt in\nthe pot in place of meal!\"\n\n\"I did not, mother.\"\n\n\"You did, and it's a mean trick that you played on me. Throw this\nstirabout to the pig outside and go for water to the well in the field.\"\n\n\"I cannot go,\" said the boy, \"the night is too dark; I might fall into\nthe well.\"\n\n\"You must go and bring the water; I cannot live till morning without\neating.\"\n\n\"I am as hungry as yourself,\" said the boy, \"but how can I go to the\nwell without a light? I will not go unless you give me a light.\"\n\n\"If I give you the Sword of Light there is no knowing who may follow\nyou; maybe that devil of a Smallhead is outside.\"\n\nBut sooner than fast till morning the old hag gave the Sword of Light to\nher son, warning him to take good care of it. He took the Sword of Light\nand went out. As he saw no one when he came to the well he left the\nsword on the top of the steps going down to the water, so as to have\ngood light. He had not gone down many steps when Smallhead had the\nsword, and away she ran over hills, dales, and valleys towards the\nBridge of Blood.\n\nThe boy shouted and screamed with all his might. Out ran the hag. \"Where\nis the sword?\" cried she.\n\n\"Some one took it from the step.\"\n\nOff rushed the hag, following the light, but she didn't come near\nSmallhead till she was over the bridge.\n\n\"Give me the Sword of Light, or bad luck to you,\" cried the hag.\n\n\"Indeed, then, I will not; I will keep it, and bad luck to yourself,\"\nanswered Smallhead.\n\nOn the following morning she walked up to the King's son and said:\n\n\"I have the Sword of Light; now will you marry my sister?\"\n\n\"I will,\" said he.\n\nThe King's son married Smallhead's sister and got the Sword of Light.\nSmallhead stayed no longer in the kitchen--the sister didn't care to\nhave her in kitchen or parlour.\n\nThe King's second son came home. He was not long in the castle when\nSmallhead said to herself, \"Maybe he will marry my second sister.\"\n\nShe saw him one day in the garden, went toward him; he said something,\nshe answered, then asked: \"Is it not time for you to be getting married\nlike your brother?\"\n\n\"When my grandfather was dying,\" said the young man, \"he bound my father\nnot to let his second son marry till he had the Black Book. This book\nused to shine and give brighter light than ever the Sword of Light did,\nand I suppose it does yet. The old hag beyond the Bridge of Blood has\nthe book, and no one dares to go near her, for many is the King's son\nkilled or enchanted by that woman.\"\n\n\"Would you marry my second sister if you were to get the Black Book?\"\n\n\"I would, indeed; I would marry any woman if I got the Black Book with\nher. The Sword of Light and the Black Book were in our family till my\ngrandfather's time, then they were stolen by that cursed old hag.\"\n\n\"I will have the book,\" said Smallhead, \"or die in the trial to get it.\"\n\nKnowing that stirabout was the main food of the hag, Smallhead settled\nin her mind to play another trick. Taking a bag she scraped the chimney,\ngathered about a stone of soot, and took it with her. The night was dark\nand rainy. When she reached the hag's house, she climbed up the gable to\nthe chimney and found that the son was making stirabout for his mother.\nShe dropped the soot down by degrees till at last the whole stone of\nsoot was in the pot; then she scraped around the top of the chimney till\na lump of soot fell on the boy's hand.\n\n\"Oh, mother,\" said he, \"the night is wet and soft, the soot is falling.\"\n\n\"Cover the pot,\" said the hag. \"Be quick with that stirabout, I am\nstarving.\"\n\nThe boy took the pot to his mother.\n\n\"Bad luck to you,\" cried the hag the moment she tasted the stirabout,\n\"this is full of soot; throw it out to the pig.\"\n\n\"If I throw it out there is no water inside to make more, and I'll not\ngo in the dark and rain to the well.\"\n\n\"You must go!\" screamed she.\n\n\"I'll not stir a foot out of this unless I get a light,\" said the boy.\n\n\"Is it the book you are thinking of, you fool, to take it and lose it as\nyou did the sword? Smallhead is watching you.\"\n\n\"How could Smallhead, the creature, be outside all the time? If you have\nno use for the water you can do without it.\"\n\nSooner than stop fasting till morning, the hag gave her son the book,\nsaying: \"Do not put this down or let it from your hand till you come in,\nor I'll have your life.\"\n\nThe boy took the book and went to the well. Smallhead followed him\ncarefully. He took the book down into the well with him, and when he was\nstooping to dip water she snatched the book and pushed him into the\nwell, where he came very near drowning.\n\nSmallhead was far away when the boy recovered, and began to scream and\nshout to his mother. She came in a hurry, and finding that the book was\ngone, fell into such a rage that she thrust a knife into her son's heart\nand ran after Smallhead, who had crossed the bridge before the hag could\ncome up with her.\n\nWhen the old woman saw Smallhead on the other side of the bridge facing\nher and dancing with delight, she screamed:\n\n\"You took the Sword of Light and the Black Book, and your two sisters\nare married. Oh, then, bad luck to you. I will put my curse on you\nwherever you go. You have all my children killed, and I a poor, feeble,\nold woman.\"\n\n\"Bad luck to yourself,\" said Smallhead. \"I am not afraid of a curse from\nthe like of you. If you had lived an honest life you wouldn't be as you\nare to-day.\"\n\n\"Now, Smallhead,\" said the old hag, \"you have me robbed of everything,\nand my children destroyed. Your two sisters are well married. Your\nfortune began with my ruin. Come, now, and take care of me in my old\nage. I'll take my curse from you, and you will have good luck. I bind\nmyself never to harm a hair of your head.\"\n\nSmallhead thought awhile, promised to do this, and said: \"If you harm\nme, or try to harm me, it will be the worse for yourself.\"\n\nThe old hag was satisfied and went home. Smallhead went to the castle\nand was received with great joy. Next morning she found the King's son\nin the garden, and said: \"If you marry my sister to-morrow, you will\nhave the Black Book.\"\n\n\"I will marry her gladly,\" said the King's son.\n\nNext day the marriage was celebrated and the King's son got the book.\nSmallhead remained in the castle about a week, then she left good health\nwith her sisters and went to the hag's house. The old woman was glad to\nsee her and showed the girl her work. All Smallhead had to do was to\nwait on the hag and feed a large pig that she had.\n\n\"I am fatting that pig,\" said the hag; \"he is seven years old now, and\nthe longer you keep a pig the harder his meat is: we'll keep this pig a\nwhile longer, and then we'll kill and eat him.\"\n\nSmallhead did her work; the old hag taught her some things, and\nSmallhead learned herself far more than the hag dreamt of. The girl fed\nthe pig three times a day, never thinking that he could be anything but\na pig. The hag had sent word to a sister that she had in the Eastern\nWorld, bidding her come and they would kill the pig and have a great\nfeast. The sister came, and one day when the hag was going to walk with\nher sister she said to Smallhead:\n\n\"Give the pig plenty of meal to-day; this is the last food he'll have;\ngive him his fill.\"\n\nThe pig had his own mind and knew what was coming. He put his nose under\nthe pot and threw it on Smallhead's toes, and she barefoot. With that\nshe ran into the house for a stick, and seeing a rod on the edge of the\nloft, snatched it and hit the pig.\n\nThat moment the pig was a splendid young man.\n\nSmallhead was amazed.\n\n\"Never fear,\" said the young man, \"I am the son of a King that the old\nhag hated, the King of Munster. She stole me from my father seven years\nago and enchanted me--made a pig of me.\"\n\nSmallhead told the King's son, then, how the hag had treated her. \"I\nmust make a pig of you again,\" said she, \"for the hag is coming. Be\npatient and I'll save you, if you promise to marry me.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"I promise you,\" said the King's son.\n\nWith that she struck him, and he was a pig again. She put the switch in\nits place and was at her work when the two sisters came. The pig ate his\nmeal now with a good heart, for he felt sure of rescue.\n\n\"Who is that girl you have in the house, and where did you find her?\"\nasked the sister.\n\n\"All my children died of the plague, and I took this girl to help me.\nShe is a very good servant.\"\n\nAt night the hag slept in one room, her sister in another, and Smallhead\nin a third. When the two sisters were sleeping soundly Smallhead rose,\nstole the hag's magic book, and then took the rod. She went next to\nwhere the pig was, and with one blow of the rod made a man of him.\n\nWith the help of the magic book Smallhead made two doves of herself and\nthe King's son, and they took flight through the air and flew on without\nstopping. Next morning the hag called Smallhead, but she did not come.\nShe hurried out to see the pig. The pig was gone. She ran to her book.\nNot a sign of it.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried she, \"that villain of a Smallhead has robbed me. She has\nstolen my book, made a man of the pig, and taken him away with her.\"\n\nWhat could she do but tell her whole story to the sister. \"Go you,\" said\nshe, \"and follow them. You have more enchantment than Smallhead has.\"\n\n\"How am I to know them?\" asked the sister.\n\n\"Bring the first two strange things that you find; they will turn\nthemselves into something wonderful.\"\n\nThe sister then made a hawk of herself and flew away as swiftly as any\nMarch wind.\n\n\"Look behind,\" said Smallhead to the King's son some hours later; \"see\nwhat is coming.\"\n\n\"I see nothing,\" said he, \"but a hawk coming swiftly.\"\n\n\"That is the hag's sister. She has three times more enchantment than the\nhag herself. But fly down on the ditch and be picking yourself as doves\ndo in rainy weather, and maybe she'll pass without seeing us.\"\n\nThe hawk saw the doves, but thinking them nothing wonderful, flew on\ntill evening, and then went back to her sister.\n\n\"Did you see anything wonderful?\"\n\n\"I did not; I saw only two doves, and they picking themselves.\"\n\n\"You fool, those doves were Smallhead and the King's son. Off with you\nin the morning and don't let me see you again without the two with you.\"\n\nAway went the hawk a second time, and swiftly as Smallhead and the\nKing's son flew, the hawk was gaining on them. Seeing this Smallhead and\nthe King's son dropped down into a large village, and, it being\nmarket-day, they made two heather brooms of themselves. The two brooms\nbegan to sweep the road without any one holding them, and swept toward\neach other. This was a great wonder. Crowds gathered at once around the\ntwo brooms.\n\nThe old hag flying over in the form of a hawk saw this and thinking that\nit must be Smallhead and the King's son were in it, came down, turned\ninto a woman, and said to herself:\n\n\"I'll have those two brooms.\"\n\nShe pushed forward so quickly through the crowd that she came near\nknocking down a man standing before her. The man was vexed.\n\n\"You cursed old hag!\" cried he, \"do you want to knock us down?\" With\nthat he gave her a blow and drove her against another man, that man gave\nher a push that sent her spinning against a third man, and so on till\nbetween them all they came near putting the life out of her, and pushed\nher away from the brooms. A woman in the crowd called out then:\n\n\"It would be nothing but right to knock the head off that old hag, and\nshe trying to push us away from the mercy of God, for it was God who\nsent the brooms to sweep the road for us.\"\n\n\"True for you,\" said another woman. With that the people were as angry\nas angry could be, and were ready to kill the hag. They were going to\ntake the head off the hag when she made a hawk of herself and flew away,\nvowing never to do another stroke of work for her sister. She might do\nher own work or let it alone.\n\nWhen the hawk disappeared the two heather brooms rose and turned into\ndoves. The people felt sure when they saw the doves that the brooms were\na blessing from heaven, and it was the old hag that drove them away.\n\nOn the following day Smallhead and the King's son saw his father's\ncastle, and the two came down not too far from it in their own forms.\nSmallhead was a very beautiful woman now, and why not? She had the magic\nand didn't spare it. She made herself as beautiful as ever she could:\nthe like of her was not to be seen in that kingdom or the next one.\n\nThe King's son was in love with her that minute, and did not wish to\npart with her, but she would not go with him.\n\n\"When you are at your father's castle,\" said Smallhead, \"all will be\noverjoyed to see you, and the king will give a great feast in your\nhonour. If you kiss any one or let any living thing kiss you, you'll\nforget me for ever.\"\n\n\"I will not let even my own mother kiss me,\" said he.\n\nThe King's son went to the castle. All were overjoyed; they had thought\nhim dead, had not seen him for seven years. He would let no one come\nnear to kiss him. \"I am bound by oath to kiss no one,\" said he to his\nmother. At that moment an old grey hound came in, and with one spring\nwas on his shoulder licking his face: all that the King's son had gone\nthrough in seven years was forgotten in one moment.\n\nSmallhead went toward a forge near the castle. The smith had a wife far\nyounger than himself, and a stepdaughter. They were no beauties. In the\nrear of the forge was a well and a tree growing over it. \"I will go up\nin that tree,\" thought Smallhead, \"and spend the night in it.\" She went\nup and sat just over the well. She was not long in the tree when the\nmoon came out high above the hill tops and shone on the well. The\nblacksmith's stepdaughter, coming for water, looked down in the well,\nsaw the face of the woman above in the tree, thought it her own face,\nand cried:\n\n\"Oh, then, to have me bringing water to a smith, and I such a beauty.\nI'll never bring another drop to him.\" With that she cast the pail in\nthe ditch and ran off to find a king's son to marry.\n\nWhen she was not coming with the water, and the blacksmith waiting to\nwash after his day's work in the forge, he sent the mother. The mother\nhad nothing but a pot to get the water in, so off she went with that,\nand coming to the well saw the beautiful face in the water.\n\n\"Oh, you black, swarthy villain of a smith,\" cried she, \"bad luck to the\nhour that I met you, and I such a beauty. I'll never draw another drop\nof water for the life of you!\"\n\nShe threw the pot down, broke it, and hurried away to find some king's\nson.\n\nWhen neither mother nor daughter came back with water the smith himself\nwent to see what was keeping them. He saw the pail in the ditch, and,\ncatching it, went to the well; looking down, he saw the beautiful face\nof a woman in the water. Being a man, he knew that it was not his own\nface that was in it, so he looked up, and there in the tree saw a woman.\nHe spoke to her and said:\n\n\"I know now why my wife and her daughter did not bring water. They saw\nyour face in the well, and, thinking themselves too good for me, ran\naway. You must come now and keep the house till I find them.\"\n\n\"I will help you,\" said Smallhead. She came down, went to the smith's\nhouse, and showed the road that the women took. The smith hurried after\nthem, and found the two in a village ten miles away. He explained their\nown folly to them, and they came home.\n\nThe mother and daughter washed fine linen for the castle. Smallhead saw\nthem ironing one day, and said:\n\n\"Sit down: I will iron for you.\"\n\nShe caught the iron, and in an hour had the work of the day done.\n\nThe women were delighted. In the evening the daughter took the linen to\nthe housekeeper at the castle.\n\n\"Who ironed this linen?\" asked the housekeeper.\n\n\"My mother and I.\"\n\n\"Indeed, then, you did not. You can't do the like of that work, and tell\nme who did it.\"\n\nThe girl was in dread now and answered:\n\n\"It is a woman who is stopping with us who did the ironing.\"\n\nThe housekeeper went to the Queen and showed her the linen.\n\n\"Send that woman to the castle,\" said the Queen.\n\nSmallhead went: the Queen welcomed her, wondered at her beauty; put her\nover all the maids in the castle. Smallhead could do anything; everybody\nwas fond of her. The King's son never knew that he had seen her before,\nand she lived in the castle a year; what the Queen told her she did.\n\nThe King had made a match for his son with the daughter of the King of\nUlster. There was a great feast in the castle in honour of the young\ncouple, the marriage, was to be a week later. The bride's father brought\nmany of his people who were versed in all kinds of tricks and\nenchantment.\n\nThe King knew that Smallhead could do many things, for neither the Queen\nnor himself had asked her to do a thing that she did not do in a\ntwinkle.\n\n\"Now,\" said the King to the Queen, \"I think she can do something that\nhis people cannot do.\" He summoned Smallhead and asked:\n\n\"Can you amuse the strangers?\"\n\n\"I can if you wish me to do so.\"\n\nWhen the time came and the Ulster men had shown their best tricks,\nSmallhead came forward and raised the window, which was forty feet from\nthe ground. She had a small ball of thread in her hand; she tied one end\nof the thread to the window, threw the ball out and over a wall near the\ncastle; then she passed out the window, walked on the thread and kept\ntime to music from players that no man could see. She came in; all\ncheered her and were greatly delighted.\n\n\"I can do that,\" said the King of Ulster's daughter, and sprang out on\nthe string; but if she did she fell and broke her neck on the stones\nbelow. There were cries, there was lamentation, and, in place of a\nmarriage, a funeral.\n\nThe King's son was angry and grieved and wanted to drive Smallhead from\nthe castle in some way.\n\n\"She is not to blame,\" said the King of Munster, who did nothing but\npraise her.\n\nAnother year passed: the King got the daughter of the King of Connacht\nfor his son. There was a great feast before the wedding day, and as the\nConnacht people are full of enchantment and witchcraft, the King of\nMunster called Smallhead and said:\n\n\"Now show the best trick of any.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Smallhead.\n\nWhen the feast was over and the Connacht men had shown their tricks the\nKing of Munster called Smallhead.\n\nShe stood before the company, threw two grains of wheat on the floor,\nand spoke some magic words. There was a hen and a cock there before her\nof beautiful plumage; she threw a grain of wheat between them; the hen\nsprang to eat the wheat, the cock gave her a blow of his bill, the hen\ndrew back, looked at him, and said:\n\n\"Bad luck to you, you wouldn't do the like of that when I was serving\nthe old hag and you her pig, and I made a man of you and gave you back\nyour own form.\"\n\nThe King's son looked at her and thought, \"There must be something in\nthis.\"\n\nSmallhead threw a second grain. The cock pecked the hen again. \"Oh,\"\nsaid the hen, \"you would not do that the day the hag's sister was\nhunting us, and we two doves.\"\n\nThe King's son was still more astonished.\n\nShe threw a third grain. The cock struck the hen, and she said, \"You\nwould not do that to me the day I made two heather brooms out of you and\nmyself.\" She threw a fourth grain. The cock pecked the hen a fourth\ntime. \"You would not do that the day you promised not to let any living\nthing kiss you or kiss any one yourself but me--you let the hound kiss\nyou and you forgot me.\"\n\nThe King's son made one bound forward, embraced and kissed Smallhead,\nand told the King his whole story from beginning to end.\n\n\"This is my wife,\" said he; \"I'll marry no other woman.\"\n\n\"Whose wife will my daughter be?\" asked the King of Connacht.\n\n\"Oh, she will be the wife of the man who will marry her,\" said the King\nof Munster, \"my son gave his word to this woman before he saw your\ndaughter, and he must keep it.\"\n\nSo Smallhead married the King of Munster's son.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe Legend of Knockgrafton.\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was once a poor man who lived in the fertile glen of Aherlow, at\nthe foot of the gloomy Galtee mountains, and he had a great hump on his\nback: he looked just as if his body had been rolled up and placed upon\nhis shoulders; and his head was pressed down with the weight so much\nthat his chin, when he was sitting, used to rest upon his knees for\nsupport. The country people were rather shy of meeting him in any\nlonesome place, for though, poor creature, he was as harmless and as\ninoffensive as a new-born infant, yet his deformity was so great that he\nscarcely appeared to be a human creature, and some ill-minded persons\nhad set strange stories about him afloat. He was said to have a great\nknowledge of herbs and charms; but certain it was that he had a mighty\nskilful hand in plaiting straw and rushes into hats and baskets, which\nwas the way he made his livelihood.\n\nLusmore, for that was the nickname put upon him by reason of his always\nwearing a sprig of the fairy cap, or lusmore (the foxglove), in his\nlittle straw hat, would ever get a higher penny for his plaited work\nthan any one else, and perhaps that was the reason why some one, out of\nenvy, had circulated the strange stories about him. Be that as it may,\nit happened that he was returning one evening from the pretty town of\nCahir towards Cappagh, and as little Lusmore walked very slowly, on\naccount of the great hump upon his back, it was quite dark when he came\nto the old moat of Knockgrafton, which stood on the right-hand side of\nhis road. Tired and weary was he, and noways comfortable in his own mind\nat thinking how much farther he had to travel, and that he should be\nwalking all the night; so he sat down under the moat to rest himself,\nand began looking mournfully enough upon the moon.\n\nPresently there rose a wild strain of unearthly melody upon the ear of\nlittle Lusmore; he listened, and he thought that he had never heard such\nravishing music before. It was like the sound of many voices, each\nmingling and blending with the other so strangely that they seemed to be\none, though all singing different strains, and the words of the song\nwere these--\n\n _Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort;_\n\nwhen there would be a moment's pause, and then the round of melody went\non again.\n\nLusmore listened attentively, scarcely drawing his breath lest he might\nlose the slightest note. He now plainly perceived that the singing was\nwithin the moat; and though at first it had charmed him so much, he\nbegan to get tired of hearing the same round sung over and over so often\nwithout any change; so availing himself of the pause when the _Da Luan,\nDa Mort_, had been sung three times, he took up the tune, and raised it\nwith the words _augus Da Cadine_, and then went on singing with the\nvoices inside of the moat, _Da Luan, Da Mort_, finishing the melody,\nwhen the pause again came, with _augus Da Cadine_.\n\n[Illustration: [Lyrics on sheet music: Da Luan Da Mort Da Luan Da Mort\nDa Luan Da Mort augus Da Cadine Da Luan Da Mort Da Luan Da Mort Da Luan\nDa Mort augus Da Cadine]]\n\nThe fairies within Knockgrafton, for the song was a fairy melody, when\nthey heard this addition to the tune, were so much delighted that, with\ninstant resolve, it was determined to bring the mortal among them,\nwhose musical skill so far exceeded theirs, and little Lusmore was\nconveyed into their company with the eddying speed of a whirlwind.\n\nGlorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him as he came down\nthrough the moat, twirling round and round, with the lightness of a\nstraw, to the sweetest music that kept time to his motion. The greatest\nhonour was then paid him, for he was put above all the musicians, and he\nhad servants tending upon him, and everything to his heart's content,\nand a hearty welcome to all; and, in short, he was made as much of as if\nhe had been the first man in the land.\n\nPresently Lusmore saw a great consultation going forward among the\nfairies, and, notwithstanding all their civility, he felt very much\nfrightened, until one stepping out from the rest came up to him and\nsaid,--\n\n \"Lusmore! Lusmore!\n Doubt not, nor deplore,\n For the hump which you bore\n On your back is no more;\n Look down on the floor,\n And view it, Lusmore!\"\n\nWhen these words were said, poor little Lusmore felt himself so light,\nand so happy, that he thought he could have bounded at one jump over the\nmoon, like the cow in the history of the cat and the fiddle; and he saw,\nwith inexpressible pleasure, his hump tumble down upon the ground from\nhis shoulders. He then tried to lift up his head, and he did so with\nbecoming caution, fearing that he might knock it against the ceiling of\nthe grand hall, where he was; he looked round and round again with\ngreatest wonder and delight upon everything, which appeared more and\nmore beautiful; and, overpowered at beholding such a resplendent scene,\nhis head grew dizzy, and his eyesight became dim. At last he fell into a\nsound sleep, and when he awoke he found that it was broad daylight, the\nsun shining brightly, and the birds singing sweetly; and that he was\nlying just at the foot of the moat of Knockgrafton, with the cows and\nsheep grazing peacefully round about him. The first thing Lusmore did,\nafter saying his prayers, was to put his hand behind to feel for his\nhump, but no sign of one was there on his back, and he looked at himself\nwith great pride, for he had now become a well-shaped dapper little\nfellow, and more than that, found himself in a full suit of new clothes,\nwhich he concluded the fairies had made for him.\n\nTowards Cappagh he went, stepping out as lightly, and springing up at\nevery step as if he had been all his life a dancing-master. Not a\ncreature who met Lusmore knew him without his hump, and he had a great\nwork to persuade every one that he was the same man--in truth he was\nnot, so far as outward appearance went.\n\nOf course it was not long before the story of Lusmore's hump got about,\nand a great wonder was made of it. Through the country, for miles round,\nit was the talk of every one, high and low.\n\nOne morning, as Lusmore was sitting contented enough, at his cabin door,\nup came an old woman to him, and asked him if he could direct her to\nCappagh.\n\n\"I need give you no directions, my good woman,\" said Lusmore, \"for this\nis Cappagh; and whom may you want here?\"\n\n\"I have come,\" said the woman, \"out of Decie's country, in the county\nof Waterford looking after one Lusmore, who, I have heard tell, had his\nhump taken off by the fairies; for there is a son of a gossip of mine\nwho has got a hump on him that will be his death; and maybe if he could\nuse the same charm as Lusmore, the hump may be taken off him. And now I\nhave told you the reason of my coming so far: 'tis to find out about\nthis charm, if I can.\"\n\nLusmore, who was ever a good-natured little fellow, told the woman all\nthe particulars, how he had raised the tune for the fairies at\nKnockgrafton, how his hump had been removed from his shoulders, and how\nhe had got a new suit of clothes into the bargain.\n\nThe woman thanked him very much, and then went away quite happy and easy\nin her own mind. When she came back to her gossip's house, in the county\nof Waterford, she told her everything that Lusmore had said, and they\nput the little hump-backed man, who was a peevish and cunning creature\nfrom his birth, upon a car, and took him all the way across the country.\nIt was a long journey, but they did not care for that, so the hump was\ntaken from off him; and they brought him, just at nightfall, and left\nhim under the old moat of Knockgrafton.\n\nJack Madden, for that was the humpy man's name, had not been sitting\nthere long when he heard the tune going on within the moat much sweeter\nthan before; for the fairies were singing it the way Lusmore had settled\ntheir music for them, and the song was going on; _Da Luan, Da Mort, Da\nLuan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, augus Da Cadine_, without ever\nstopping. Jack Madden, who was in a great hurry to get quit of his hump,\nnever thought of waiting until the fairies had done, or watching for a\nfit opportunity to raise the tune higher again than Lusmore had; so\nhaving heard them sing it over seven times without stopping, out he\nbawls, never minding the time or the humour of the tune, or how he could\nbring his words in properly, _augus Da Cadine, augus Da Hena_, thinking\nthat if one day was good, two were better; and that if Lusmore had one\nnew suit of clothes given him, he should have two.\n\nNo sooner had the words passed his lips than he was taken up and whisked\ninto the moat with prodigious force; and the fairies came crowding round\nabout him with great anger, screeching, and screaming, and roaring out,\n\"Who spoiled our tune? who spoiled our tune?\" and one stepped up to him,\nabove all the rest and said:\n\n \"Jack Madden! Jack Madden!\n Your words came so bad in\n The tune we felt glad in;--\n This castle you're had in,\n That your life we may sadden;\n Here's two humps for Jack Madden!\"\n\nAnd twenty of the strongest fairies brought Lusmore's hump and put it\ndown upon poor Jack's back, over his own, where it became fixed as\nfirmly as if it was nailed on with twelve-penny nails, by the best\ncarpenter that ever drove one. Out of their castle they then kicked him;\nand, in the morning, when Jack Madden's mother and her gossip came to\nlook after their little man, they found him half dead, lying at the foot\nof the moat, with the other hump upon his back. Well to be sure, how\nthey did look at each other! but they were afraid to say anything, lest\na hump might be put upon their own shoulders. Home they brought the\nunlucky Jack Madden with them, as downcast in their hearts and their\nlooks as ever two gossips were; and what through the weight of his other\nhump, and the long journey, he died soon after, leaving they say his\nheavy curse to any one who would go to listen to fairy tunes again.\n\n\n\n\nElidore.\n\n\n[Illustration: In]\n\nIn the days of Henry Beauclerc of England there was a little lad named\nElidore, who was being brought up to be a cleric. Day after day he would\ntrudge from his mother's house, and she was a widow, up to the monks'\nScriptorium. There he would learn his A B C, to read it and to write it.\nBut he was a lazy little rogue was this Elidore, and as fast as he\nlearned to write one letter, he forgot another; so it was very little\nprogress he was making. Now when the good monks saw this they remembered\nthe saying of the Book: \"Spare the rod and spoil the child,\" and\nwhenever Elidore forgot a letter they tried to make him remember it with\nthe rod. At first they used it seldom and lightly, but Elidore was not a\nboy to be driven, and the more they thwacked him the less he learned: so\nthe thwackings became more frequent and more severe, till Elidore could\nnot stand them any longer. So one day when he was twelve years old he\nupped with him and offed with him into the great forest near St.\nDavid's. There for two long days and two long nights he wandered about\neating nothing but hips and haws. At last he found himself at the mouth\nof a cave, at the side of a river, and there he sank down, all tired and\nexhausted. Suddenly two little pigmies appeared to him and said: \"Come\nwith us, and we will lead you into a land full of games and sports\": so\nElidore raised himself and went with these two; at first through an\nunderground passage all in the dark, but soon they came out into a most\nbeautiful country, with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, as\npleasant as can be; only this there was curious about it, that the sun\nnever shone and clouds were always over the sky, so that neither sun\nwas seen by day, nor moon and stars at night.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe two little men led Elidore before their king, who asked why and\nwhence he came. Elidore told him, and the king said: \"Thou shalt attend\non my son,\" and waved him away. So for a long time Elidore waited on the\nking's son, and joined in all the games and sports of the little men.\n\nThey were little, but they were not dwarfs, for all their limbs were of\nsuitable size one with another. Their hair was fair, and hung upon their\nshoulders like that of women. They had little horses, about the size of\ngreyhounds; and did not eat flesh, fowl, or fish, but lived on milk\nflavoured with saffron. And as they had such curious ways, so they had\nstrange thoughts. No oath took they, but never a lie they spoke. They\nwould jeer and scoff at men for their struggles, lying, and treachery.\nYet though they were so good they worshipped none, unless you might say\nthey were worshippers of Truth.\n\nAfter a time Elidore began to long to see boys and men of his own size,\nand he begged permission to go and visit his mother. So the King gave\nhim permission: so the little men led him along the passage, and guided\nhim through the forest, till he came near his mother's cottage, and when\nhe entered, was not she rejoiced to see her dear son again? \"Where have\nyou been? What have you done?\" she cried; and he had to tell her all\nthat had happened to him. She begged of him to stay with her, but he had\npromised the King to go back. And soon he returned, after making his\nmother promise not to tell where he was, or with whom. Henceforth\nElidore lived, partly with the little men, and partly with his mother.\nNow one day, when he was with his mother, he told her of the yellow\nballs they used in their play, and which she felt sure must be of gold.\nSo she begged of him that the next time he came back to her he would\nbring with him one of these balls. When the time came for him to go back\nto his mother again, he did not wait for the little men to guide him\nback, as he now knew the road. But seizing one of the yellow balls with\nwhich he used to play, he rushed home through the passage. Now as he got\nnear his mother's house he seemed to hear tiny footsteps behind him, and\nhe rushed up to the door as quickly as he could. Just as he reached it\nhis foot slipped, and he fell down, and the ball rolled out of his hand,\njust to the feet of his mother. At that moment two little men rushed\nforward, seized the ball and ran away, making faces, and spitting at the\nboy as they passed him. Elidore remained with his mother for a time; but\nhe missed the play and games of the little men, and determined to go\nback to them. But when he came to where the cave had been, near the\nriver where the underground passage commenced, he could not find it\nagain, and though he searched again and again in the years to come, he\ncould not get back to that fair country. So after a time he went back to\nthe monastery, and became in due course a monk. And men used to come and\nseek him out, and ask him what had happened to him when he was in the\nLand of the Little Men. Nor could he ever speak of that happy time\nwithout shedding tears.\n\nNow it happened once, when this Elidore was old, that David, Bishop of\nSt. David's, came to visit his monastery and ask him about the manners\nand customs of the little men, and above all, he was curious to know\nwhat language they spoke; and Elidore told him some of their words. When\nthey asked for water, they would say: _Udor udorum_; and when they\nwanted salt, they would say: _Hapru udorum_. And from this, the Bishop,\nwho was a learned man, discovered that they spoke some sort of Greek.\nFor _Udor_ is Greek for _Water_, and _Hap_ for _Salt_.\n\nHence we know that the Britons came from Troy, being descendants from\nBrito, son of Priam, King of Troy.\n\n\n\n\nThe Leeching of Kayn's Leg.\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere were five hundred blind men, and five hundred deaf men, and five\nhundred limping men, and five hundred dumb men, and five hundred cripple\nmen. The five hundred deaf men had five hundred wives, and the five\nhundred limping men had five hundred wives, and the five hundred dumb\nmen had five hundred wives, and the five hundred cripple men had five\nhundred wives. Each five hundred of these had five hundred children and\nfive hundred dogs. They were in the habit of going about in one band,\nand were called the Sturdy Strolling Beggarly Brotherhood. There was a\nknight in Erin called O'Cronicert, with whom they spent a day and a\nyear; and they ate up all that he had, and made a poor man of him, till\nhe had nothing left but an old tumble-down black house, and an old lame\nwhite horse. There was a king in Erin called Brian Boru; and O'Cronicert\nwent to him for help. He cut a cudgel of grey oak on the outskirts of\nthe wood, mounted the old lame white horse, and set off at speed through\nwood and over moss and rugged ground, till he reached the king's house.\nWhen he arrived he went on his knees to the king; and the king said to\nhim, \"What is your news, O'Cronicert?\"\n\n\"I have but poor news for you, king.\"\n\n\"What poor news have you?\" said the king.\n\n\"That I have had the Sturdy Strolling Beggarly Brotherhood for a day and\na year, and they have eaten all that I had, and made a poor man of me,\"\nsaid he.\n\n\"Well!\" said the king, \"I am sorry for you; what do you want?\"\n\n\"I want help,\" said O'Cronicert; \"anything that you may be willing to\ngive me.\"\n\nThe king promised him a hundred cows. He went to the queen, and made his\ncomplaint to her, and she gave him another hundred. He went to the\nking's son, Murdoch Mac Brian, and he got another hundred from him. He\ngot food and drink at the king's; and when he was going away he said,\n\"Now I am very much obliged to you. This will set me very well on my\nfeet. After all that I have got there is another thing that I want.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" said the king.\n\n\"It is the lap-dog that is in and out after the queen that I wish for.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said the king, \"it is your mightiness and pride that has caused\nthe loss of your means; but if you become a good man you shall get this\nalong with the rest.\"\n\nO'Cronicert bade the king good-bye, took the lap-dog, leapt on the back\nof the old lame white horse, and went off at speed through wood, and\nover moss and rugged ground. After he had gone some distance through the\nwood a roebuck leapt up and the lap-dog went after it. In a moment the\ndeer started up as a woman behind O'Cronicert, the handsomest that eye\nhad ever seen from the beginning of the universe till the end of\neternity. She said to him, \"Call your dog off me.\"\n\n\"I will do so if you promise to marry me,\" said O'Cronicert.\n\n\"If you keep three vows that I shall lay upon you I will marry you,\"\nsaid she.\n\n\"What vows are they?\" said he.\n\n\"The first is that you do not go to ask your worldly king to a feast or\na dinner without first letting me know,\" said she.\n\n\"Hoch!\" said O'Cronicert, \"do you think that I cannot keep that vow? I\nwould never go to invite my worldly king without informing you that I\nwas going to do so. It is easy to keep that vow.\"\n\n\"You are likely to keep it!\" said she.\n\n\"The second vow is,\" said she, \"that you do not cast up to me in any\ncompany or meeting in which we shall be together, that you found me in\nthe form of a deer.\"\n\n\"Hoo!\" said O'Cronicert, \"you need not to lay that vow upon me. I would\nkeep it at any rate.\"\n\n\"You are likely to keep it!\" said she.\n\n\"The third vow is,\" said she, \"that you do not leave me in the company\nof only one man while you go out.\" It was agreed between them that she\nshould marry him.\n\nThey reached the old tumble-down black house. Grass they cut in the\nclefts and ledges of the rocks; a bed they made and laid down.\nO'Cronicert's wakening from sleep was the lowing of cattle and the\nbleating of sheep and the neighing of mares, while he himself was in a\nbed of gold on wheels of silver, going from end to end of the Tower of\nCastle Town.\n\n\"I am sure that you are surprised,\" said she.\n\n\"I am indeed,\" said he.\n\n\"You are in your own room,\" said she.\n\n\"In my own room,\" said he. \"I never had such a room.\"\n\n\"I know well that you never had,\" said she; \"but you have it now. So\nlong as you keep me you shall keep the room.\"\n\nHe then rose, and put on his clothes, and went out. He took a look at\nthe house when he went out; and it was a palace, the like of which he\nhad never seen, and the king himself did not possess. He then took a\nwalk round the farm; and he never saw so many cattle, sheep, and horses\nas were on it. He returned to the house, and said to his wife that the\nfarm was being ruined by other people's cattle and sheep. \"It is not,\"\nsaid she: \"your own cattle and sheep are on it.\"\n\n\"I never had so many cattle and sheep,\" said he.\n\n\"I know that,\" said she; \"but so long as you keep me you shall keep\nthem. There is no good wife whose tocher does not follow her.\"\n\nHe was now in good circumstances, indeed wealthy. He had gold and\nsilver, as well as cattle and sheep. He went about with his gun and dogs\nhunting every day, and was a great man. It occurred to him one day that\nhe would go to invite the King of Erin to dinner, but he did not tell\nhis wife that he was going. His first vow was now broken. He sped away\nto the King of Erin, and invited him and his great court to dinner. The\nKing of Erin said to him, \"Do you intend to take away the cattle that I\npromised you?\"\n\n\"Oh! no, King of Erin,\" said O'Cronicert; \"I could give you as many\nto-day.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the king, \"how well you have got on since I saw you last!\"\n\n\"I have indeed,\" said O'Cronicert! \"I have fallen in with a rich wife\nwho has plenty of gold and silver, and of cattle and sheep.\"\n\n\"I am glad of that,\" said the King of Erin.\n\nO'Cronicert said, \"I shall feel much obliged if you will go with me to\ndinner, yourself and your great court.\"\n\n\"We will do so willingly,\" said the king.\n\nThey went with him on that same day. It did not occur to O'Cronicert how\na dinner could be prepared for the king without his wife knowing that he\nwas coming. When they were going on, and had reached the place where\nO'Cronicert had met the deer, he remembered that his vow was broken, and\nhe said to the king, \"Excuse me; I am going on before to the house to\ntell that you are coming.\"\n\nThe king said, \"We will send off one of the lads.\"\n\n\"You will not,\" said O'Cronicert; \"no lad will serve the purpose so well\nas myself.\"\n\nHe set off to the house; and when he arrived his wife was diligently\npreparing dinner. He told her what he had done, and asked her pardon. \"I\npardon you this time,\" said she: \"I know what you have done as well as\nyou do yourself. The first of your vows is broken.\"\n\nThe king and his great court came to O'Cronicert's house; and the wife\nhad everything ready for them as befitted a king and great people; every\nkind of drink and food. They spent two or three days and nights at\ndinner, eating and drinking. They were praising the dinner highly, and\nO'Cronicert himself was praising it; but his wife was not. O'Cronicert\nwas angry that she was not praising it and he went and struck her in the\nmouth with his fist and knocked out two of her teeth. \"Why are you not\npraising the dinner like the others, you contemptible deer?\" said he.\n\n\"I am not,\" said she: \"I have seen my father's big dogs having a better\ndinner than you are giving to-night to the King of Erin and his court.\"\n\nO'Cronicert got into such a rage that he went outside of the door. He\nwas not long standing there when a man came riding on a black horse, who\nin passing caught O'Cronicert by the collar of his coat, and took him up\nbehind him: and they set off. The rider did not say a word to\nO'Cronicert. The horse was going so swiftly that O'Cronicert thought the\nwind would drive his head off. They arrived at a big, big palace, and\ncame off the black horse. A stableman came out, and caught the horse,\nand took it in. It was with wine that he was cleaning the horse's feet.\nThe rider of the black horse said to O'Cronicert, \"Taste the wine to see\nif it is better than the wine that you are giving to Brian Boru and his\ncourt to-night.\"\n\nO'Cronicert tasted the wine, and said, \"This is better wine.\"\n\nThe rider of the black horse said, \"How unjust was the fist a little\nago! The wind from your fist carried the two teeth to me.\"\n\nHe then took him into that big, handsome, and noble house, and into a\nroom that was full of gentlemen eating and drinking, and he seated him\nat the head of the table, and gave him wine to drink, and said to him,\n\"Taste that wine to see if it is better than the wine that you are\ngiving to the King of Erin and his court to-night.\"\n\n\"This is better wine,\" said O'Cronicert.\n\n\"How unjust was the fist a little ago!\" said the rider of the black\nhorse.\n\nWhen all was over the rider of the black horse said, \"Are you willing to\nreturn home now?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said O'Cronicert, \"very willing.\"\n\nThey then rose, and went to the stable: and the black horse was taken\nout; and they leaped on its back, and went away. The rider of the black\nhorse said to O'Cronicert, after they had set off, \"Do you know who I\nam?\"\n\n\"I do not,\" said O'Cronicert.\n\n\"I am a brother-in-law of yours,\" said the rider of the black horse;\n\"and though my sister is married to you there is not a king or knight in\nErin who is a match for her. Two of your vows are now broken; and if you\nbreak the other vow you shall lose your wife and all that you possess.\"\n\nThey arrived at O'Cronicert's house; and O'Cronicert said, \"I am ashamed\nto go in, as they do not know where I have been since night came.\"\n\n\"Hoo!\" said the rider, \"they have not missed you at all. There is so\nmuch conviviality among them, that they have not suspected that you have\nbeen anywhere. Here are the two teeth that you knocked out of the front\nof your wife's mouth. Put them in their place, and they will be as\nstrong as ever.\"\n\n\"Come in with me,\" said O'Cronicert to the rider of the black horse.\n\n\"I will not: I disdain to go in,\" said the rider of the black horse.\n\nThe rider of the black horse bade O'Cronicert good-bye, and went away.\n\nO'Cronicert went in; and his wife met him as she was busy waiting on the\ngentlemen. He asked her pardon, and put the two teeth in the front of\nher mouth, and they were as strong as ever. She said, \"Two of your vows\nare now broken.\" No one took notice of him when he went in, or said\n\"Where have you been?\" They spent the night in eating and drinking, and\nthe whole of the next day.\n\nIn the evening the king said, \"I think that it is time for us to be\ngoing\"; and all said that it was. O'Cronicert said, \"You will not go\nto-night. I am going to get up a dance. You will go to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Let them go,\" said his wife.\n\n\"I will not,\" said he.\n\nThe dance was set a-going that night. They were playing away at dancing\nand music till they became warm and hot with perspiration. They were\ngoing out one after another to cool themselves at the side of the house.\nThey all went out except O'Cronicert and his wife, and a man called Kayn\nMac Loy. O'Cronicert himself went out, and left his wife and Kayn Mac\nLoy in the house, and when she saw that he had broken his third vow she\ngave a spring through a room, and became a big filly, and gave Kayn Mac\nLoy a kick with her foot, and broke his thigh in two. She gave another\nspring, and smashed the door and went away, and was seen no more. She\ntook with her the Tower of Castle Town as an armful on her shoulder and\na light burden on her back, and she left Kayn Mac Loy in the old\ntumble-down black house in a pool of rain-drip on the floor.\n\nAt daybreak next day poor O'Cronicert could only see the old house that\nhe had before. Neither cattle nor sheep, nor any of the fine things that\nhe had was to be seen. One awoke in the morning beside a bush, another\nbeside a dyke, and another beside a ditch. The king only had the honour\nof having O'Cronicert's little hut over his head. As they were leaving,\nMurdoch Mac Brian remembered that he had left his own foster-brother\nKayn Mac Loy behind, and said there should be no separation in life\nbetween them and that he would go back for him. He found Kayn in the old\ntumble-down black house, in the middle of the floor, in a pool of\nrain-water, with his leg broken; and he said the earth should make a\nnest in his sole and the sky a nest in his head if he did not find a man\nto cure Kayn's leg.\n\nThey told him that on the Isle of Innisturk was a herb that would heal\nhim.\n\nSo Kayn Mac Loy was then borne away, and sent to the island, and he was\nsupplied with as much food as would keep him for a month, and with two\ncrutches on which he would be going out and in as he might desire. At\nlast the food was spent, and he was destitute, and he had not found the\nherb. He was in the habit of going down to the shore, and gathering\nshell-fish, and eating it.\n\nAs he was one day on the shore, he saw a big, big man landing on the\nisland, and he could see the earth and the sky between his legs. He set\noff with the crutches to try if he could get into the hut before the big\nman would come upon him. Despite his efforts, the big man was between\nhim and the door, and said to him, \"Unless you deceive me, you are Kayn\nMac Loy.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy said, \"I have never deceived a man: I am he.\"\n\nThe big man said to him:\n\n \"Stretch out your leg, Kayn, till I put a salve of herbs and\n healing to it. Salve and binding herb and the poultice are\n cooling; the worm is channering. Pressure and haste hard bind me,\n for I must hear Mass in the great church at Rome, and be in\n Norway before I sleep.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy said:\n\n \"May it be no foot to Kayn or a foot to any one after one, or I\n be Kayn son of Loy, if I stretch out my foot for you to put a\n salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me why you have\n no church of your own in Norway, so as, as now, to be going to\n the great church of Rome to Rome to-morrow. Unless you deceive me\n you are Machkan-an-Athar, the son of the King of Lochlann.\"\n\nThe big man said, \"I have never deceived any man: I am he. I am now\ngoing to tell you why we have not a church in Lochlann. Seven masons\ncame to build a church, and they and my father were bargaining about the\nbuilding of it. The agreement that the masons wanted was that my mother\nand sister would go to see the interior of the church when it would be\nfinished. My father was glad to get the church built so cheaply. They\nagreed accordingly; and the masons went in the morning to the place\nwhere the church was to be built. My father pointed out the spot for the\nfoundation. They began to build in the morning, and the church was\nfinished before the evening. When it was finished they requested my\nmother and sister to go to see its interior. They had no sooner entered\nthan the doors were shut; and the church went away into the skies in the\nform of a tuft of mist.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n \"Stretch out your leg, Kayn, till I put a salve of herbs and\n healing to it. Salve and binding herb and the poultice are\n cooling; the worm is channering. Pressure and haste hard bind me,\n for I must hear Mass in the great church at Rome, and be in\n Norway before I sleep.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy said:\n\n \"May it be no foot to Kayn or a foot to any one after one, or I\n be Kayn son of Loy, if I stretch out my foot for you to put a\n salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me if you heard\n what befell your mother and sister.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the big man, \"the mischief is upon you; that tale is long to\ntell; but I will tell you a short tale about the matter. On the day on\nwhich they were working at the church I was away in the hill hunting\ngame; and when I came home in the evening my brother told me what had\nhappened, namely, that my mother and sister had gone away in the form of\na tuft of mist. I became so cross and angry that I resolved to destroy\nthe world till I should find out where my mother and sister were. My\nbrother said to me that I was a fool to think of such a thing. 'I'll\ntell you,' said he, 'what you'll do. You will first go to try to find\nout where they are. When you find out where they are you will demand\nthem peaceably, and if you do not get them peaceably you will fight for\nthem.'\n\n\"I took my brother's advice, and prepared a ship to set off with. I set\noff alone, and embraced the ocean. I was overtaken by a great mist, and\nI came upon an island, and there was a large number of ships at anchor\nnear it; I went in amongst them, and went ashore. I saw there a big, big\nwoman reaping rushes; and when she would raise her head she would throw\nher right breast over her shoulder and when she would bend it would fall\ndown between her legs. I came once behind her, and caught the breast\nwith my mouth, and said to her, 'You are yourself witness, woman, that I\nam the foster-son of your right breast.' 'I perceive that, great hero,'\nsaid the old woman, 'but my advice to you is to leave this island as\nfast as you can.' 'Why?' said I. 'There is a big giant in the cave up\nthere,' said she, 'and every one of the ships that you see he has taken\nin from the ocean with his breath, and he has killed and eaten the men.\nHe is asleep at present, and when he wakens he will have you in a\nsimilar manner. A large iron door and an oak door are on the cave. When\nthe giant draws in his breath the doors open, and when he emits his\nbreath the doors shut; and they are shut as fast as though seven small\nbars, and seven large bars, and seven locks were on them. So fast are\nthey that seven crowbars could not force them open.' I said to the old\nwoman, 'Is there any way of destroying him?' 'I'll tell you,' said she,\n'how it can be done. He has a weapon above the door that is called the\nshort spear: and if you succeed in taking off his head with the first\nblow it will be well; but if you do not, the case will be worse than it\nwas at first.'\n\n\"I set off, and reached the cave, the two doors of which opened. The\ngiant's breath drew me into the cave; and stools, chairs, and pots were\nby its action dashing against each other, and like to break my legs. The\ndoor shut when I went in, and was shut as fast as though seven small\nbars, and seven large bars, and seven locks were on it; and seven\ncrowbars could not force it open; and I was a prisoner in the cave. The\ngiant drew in his breath again, and the doors opened. I gave a look\nupwards, and saw the short spear, and laid hold of it. I drew the short\nspear, and I warrant you that I dealt him such a blow with it as did not\nrequire to be repeated; I swept the head off him. I took the head down\nto the old woman, who was reaping the rushes, and said to her, 'There is\nthe giant's head for you.' The old woman said, 'Brave man! I knew that\nyou were a hero. This island had need of your coming to it to-day.\nUnless you deceive me, you are Mac Connachar son of the King of\nLochlann.' 'I have never deceived a man. I am he,' said I. 'I am a\nsoothsayer,' said she, 'and know the object of your journey. You are\ngoing in quest of your mother and sister.' 'Well,' said I, 'I am so far\non the way if I only knew where to go for them.' 'I'll tell you where\nthey are,' said she; 'they are in the kingdom of the Red Shield, and the\nKing of the Red Shield is resolved to marry your mother, and his son is\nresolved to marry your sister. I'll tell you how the town is situated. A\ncanal of seven times seven paces breadth surrounds it. On the canal\nthere is a drawbridge, which is guarded during the day by two creatures\nthat no weapon can pierce, as they are covered all over with scales,\nexcept two spots below the neck in which their death-wounds lie. Their\nnames are Roar and Rustle. When night comes the bridge is raised, and\nthe monsters sleep. A very high and big wall surrounds the king's\npalace.'\n\n \"Stretch out your leg, Kayn, till I put a salve of herbs and\n healing to it. Salve and binding herb and the poultice are\n cooling; the worm is channering. Pressure and haste hard bind me,\n for I must hear Mass in the great church at Rome, and be in\n Norway before I sleep.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy said:\n\n \"May it be no foot to Kayn or a foot to any one after one, or I\n be Kayn son of Loy, if I stretch out my foot for you to put a\n salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me if you went\n farther in search of your mother and sister, or if you returned\n home, or what befell you.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the big man, \"the mischief is upon you; that tale is long to\ntell; but I will tell you another tale. I set off, and reached the big\ntown of the Red Shield; and it was surrounded by a canal, as the old\nwoman told me; and there was a drawbridge on the canal. It was night\nwhen I arrived, and the bridge was raised, and the monsters were asleep.\nI measured two feet before me and a foot behind me of the ground on\nwhich I was standing, and I sprang on the end of my spear and on my\ntiptoes, and reached the place where the monsters were asleep; and I\ndrew the short spear, and I warrant you that I dealt them such a blow\nbelow the neck as did not require to be repeated. I took up the heads\nand hung them on one of the posts of the bridge. I then went on to the\nwall that surrounded the king's palace. This wall was so high that it\nwas not easy for me to spring over it; and I set to work with the short\nspear, and dug a hole through it, and got in. I went to the door of the\npalace and knocked; and the doorkeeper called out, 'Who is there?' 'It\nis I,' said I. My mother and sister recognised my speech; and my mother\ncalled, 'Oh! it is my son; let him in.' I then got in, and they rose to\nmeet me with great joy. I was supplied with food, drink, and a good bed.\nIn the morning breakfast was set before us; and after it I said to my\nmother and sister that they had better make ready, and go with me. The\nKing of the Red Shield said, 'It shall not be so. I am resolved to marry\nyour mother, and my son is resolved to marry your sister.' 'If you wish\nto marry my mother, and if your son wishes to marry my sister, let both\nof you accompany me to my home, and you shall get them there.' The King\nof the Red Shield said, 'So be it.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"We then set off, and came to where my ship was, went on board of it,\nand sailed home. When we were passing a place where a great battle was\ngoing on, I asked the King of the Red Shield what battle it was, and the\ncause of it. 'Don't you know at all?' said the King of the Red Shield.\n'I do not,' said I. The King of the Red Shield said, 'That is the battle\nfor the daughter of the King of the Great Universe, the most beautiful\nwoman in the world; and whoever wins her by his heroism shall get her in\nmarriage. Do you see yonder castle?' 'I do,' said I. 'She is on the top\nof that castle, and sees from it the hero that wins her,' said the King\nof the Red Shield. I requested to be put on shore, that I might win her\nby my swiftness and strength. They put me on shore; and I got a sight\nof her on the top of the castle. Having measured two feet behind me and\na foot before me, I sprang on the end of my spear and on my tiptoes, and\nreached the top of the castle; and I caught the daughter of the King of\nthe Universe in my arms and flung her over the castle. I was with her\nand intercepted her before she reached the ground, and I took her away\non my shoulder, and set off to the shore as fast as I could, and\ndelivered her to the King of the Red Shield to be put on board the ship.\n'Am I not the best warrior that ever sought you?' said I. 'You can jump\nwell' said she, 'but I have not seen any of your prowess.' I turned back\nto meet the warriors, and attacked them with the short spear, and did\nnot leave a head on a neck of any of them. I then returned, and called\nto the King of the Red Shield to come in to the shore for me. Pretending\nnot to hear me, he set the sails in order to return home with the\ndaughter of the King of the Great Universe, and marry her. I measured\ntwo feet behind me and a foot before me, and sprang on the end of my\nspear and on my tiptoes and got on board the ship. I then said to the\nKing of the Red Shield, 'What were you going to do? Why did you not wait\nfor me?' 'Oh!' said the king, 'I was only making the ship ready and\nsetting the sails to her before going on shore for you. Do you know what\nI am thinking of?' 'I do not,' said I. 'It is,' said the King, 'that I\nwill return home with the daughter of the King of the Great Universe,\nand that you shall go home with your mother and sister.' 'That is not to\nbe the way of it,' said I. 'She whom I have won by my prowess neither\nyou nor any other shall get.'\n\n\"The king had a red shield, and if he should get it on, no weapon could\nmake an impression on him. He began to put on the red shield, and I\nstruck him with the short spear in the middle of his body, and cut him\nin two, and threw him overboard. I then struck the son, and swept his\nhead off, and threw him overboard.\n\n \"Stretch out your leg, Kayn, till I put a salve of herbs and\n healing to it. Salve and binding herb and the poultice are\n cooling; the worm is channering. Pressure and haste hard bind me,\n for I must hear Mass in the great church at Rome, and be in\n Norway before I sleep.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy said:\n\n \"May it be no foot to Kayn or a foot to any one after one, or I\n be Kayn son of Loy, if I stretch out my foot for you to put a\n salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me whether any\n search was made for the daughter of the King of the Universe.\"\n\n\"Ah! the mischief is upon you,\" said the big man; \"I will tell\nyou another short tale. I came home with my mother and sister,\nand the daughter of the King of the Universe, and I married the\ndaughter of the King of the Universe. The first son I had I named\nMachkan-na-skaya-jayrika (son of the red shield). Not long after this\na hostile force came to enforce compensation for the King of the Red\nShield, and a hostile force came from the King of the Universe to\nenforce compensation for the daughter of the King of the Universe. I\ntook the daughter of the King of the Universe with me on the one\nshoulder and Machkan-na-skaya-jayrika on the other, and I went on\nboard the ship and set the sails to her, and I placed the ensign of\nthe King of the Great Universe on the one mast, and that of the King\nof the Red Shield on the other, and I blew a trumpet, and passed\nthrough the midst of them, and I said to them that here was the man,\nand that if they were going to enforce their claims, this was the\ntime. All the ships that were there chased me; and we set out on the\nexpanse of ocean. My ship would be equalled in speed by but few. One\nday a thick dark mist came on, and they lost sight of me. It happened\nthat I came to an island called The Wet Mantle. I built a hut there;\nand another son was born to me, and I called him Son of the Wet\nMantle.\n\n\"I was a long time in that island; but there was enough of fruit, fish,\nand birds in it. My two sons had grown to be somewhat big. As I was one\nday out killing birds, I saw a big, big man coming towards the island,\nand I ran to try if I could get into the house before him. He met me,\nand caught me, and put me into a bog up to the armpits, and he went into\nthe house, and took out on his shoulder the daughter of the King of the\nUniverse, and passed close to me in order to irritate me the more. The\nsaddest look that I ever gave or ever shall give was that I gave when I\nsaw the daughter of the King of the Universe on the shoulder of another,\nand could not take her from him. The boys came out where I was; and I\nbade them bring me the short spear from the house. They dragged the\nshort spear after them, and brought it to me; and I cut the ground\naround me with it till I got out.\n\n\"I was a long time in the Wet Mantle, even till my two sons grew to be\nbig lads. They asked me one day if I had any thought of going to seek\ntheir mother. I told them that I was waiting till they were stronger,\nand that they should then go with me. They said that they were ready to\ngo with me at any time. I said to them that we had better get the ship\nready, and go. They said, 'Let each of us have a ship to himself.' We\narranged accordingly; and each went his own way.\n\n\"As I happened one day to be passing close to land I saw a great battle\ngoing on. Being under vows never to pass a battle without helping the\nweaker side, I went on shore, and set to work with the weaker side, and\nI knocked the head off every one with the short spear. Being tired, I\nlay myself down among the bodies and fell asleep.\n\n \"Stretch out your leg, Kayn, till I put a salve of herbs and\n healing to it. Salve and binding herb and the poultice are\n cooling; the worm is channering. Pressure and haste hard bind me,\n for I must hear Mass in the great church at Rome, and be in\n Norway before I sleep.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy said:\n\n \"May it be no foot to Kayn or a foot to any one after one, or I\n be Kayn son of Loy, if I stretch out my foot for you to put a\n salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me if you found\n the daughter of the King of the Universe, or if you went home, or\n what happened to you.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"The mischief is upon you,\" said the big man; \"that tale is long to\ntell, but I will tell another short tale. When I awoke out of sleep I\nsaw a ship making for the place where I was lying, and a big giant with\nonly one eye dragging it after him: and the ocean reached no higher than\nhis knees. He had a big fishing-rod with a big strong line hanging from\nit on which was a very big hook. He was throwing the line ashore, and\nfixing the hook in a body, and lifting it on board, and he continued\nthis work till the ship was loaded with bodies. He fixed the hook once\nin my clothes; but I was so heavy that the rod could not carry me on\nboard. He had to go on shore himself, and carry me on board in his arms.\nI was then in a worse plight than I ever was in. The giant set off with\nthe ship, which he dragged after him, and reached a big, precipitous\nrock, in the face of which he had a large cave: and a damsel as\nbeautiful as I ever saw came out, and stood in the door of the cave. He\nwas handing the bodies to her, and she was taking hold of them and\nputting them into the cave. As she took hold of each body she said, 'Are\nyou alive?' At last the giant took hold of me, and handed me in to her,\nand said, 'Keep him apart; he is a large body, and I will have him to\nbreakfast the first day that I go from home.' My best time was not when\nI heard the giant's sentence upon me. When he had eaten enough of the\nbodies, his dinner and supper, he lay down to sleep. When he began to\nsnore the damsel came to speak to me; and she told me that she was a\nking's daughter the giant had stolen away and that she had no way of\ngetting away from him. 'I am now,' she said, 'seven years except two\ndays with him, and there is a drawn sword between us. He dared not come\nnearer me than that till the seven years should expire.' I said to her,\n'Is there no way of killing him?' 'It is not easy to kill him, but we\nwill devise an expedient for killing him,' said she. 'Look at that\npointed bar that he uses for roasting the bodies. At dead of night\ngather the embers of the fire together, and put the bar in the fire till\nit be red. Go, then, and thrust it into his eye with all your strength,\nand take care that he does not get hold of you, for if he does he will\nmince you as small as midges.' I then went and gathered the embers\ntogether, and put the bar in the fire, and made it red, and thrust it\ninto his eye; and from the cry that he gave I thought that the rock had\nsplit. The giant sprang to his feet and chased me through the cave in\norder to catch me; and I picked up a stone that lay on the floor of the\ncave, and pitched it into the sea; and it made a plumping noise. The bar\nwas sticking in his eye all the time. Thinking it was I that had sprung\ninto the sea, he rushed to the mouth of the cave, and the bar struck\nagainst the doorpost of the cave, and knocked off his brain-cap. The\ngiant fell down cold and dead, and the damsel and I were seven years and\nseven days throwing him into the sea in pieces.\n\n[Illustration: KOISHA KAYN]\n\n\"I wedded the damsel, and a boy was born to us. After seven years I\nstarted forth again.\n\n\"I gave her a gold ring, with my name on it, for the boy, and when he\nwas old enough he was sent out to seek me.\n\n\"I then set off to the place where I fought the battle, and found the\nshort spear where I left it; and I was very pleased that I found it, and\nthat the ship was safe. I sailed a day's distance from that place, and\nentered a pretty bay that was there, hauled my ship up above the shore,\nand erected a hut there, in which I slept at night. When I rose next day\nI saw a ship making straight for the place where I was. When it struck\nthe ground, a big, strong champion came out of it, and hauled it up; and\nif it did not surpass my ship it was not a whit inferior to it; and I\nsaid to him, 'What impertinent fellow are you that has dared to haul up\nyour ship alongside of my ship?' 'I am Machkan-na-skaya-jayrika,' said\nthe champion, 'going to seek the daughter of the King of the Universe\nfor Mac Connachar, son of the King of Lochlann.' I saluted and welcomed\nhim, and said to him, 'I am your father: it is well that you have come.'\nWe passed the night cheerily in the hut.\n\n\"When I arose on the following day I saw another ship making straight\nfor the place where I was; and a big, strong hero came out of it, and\nhauled it up alongside of our ships; and if it did not surpass them it\nwas not a whit inferior to them. 'What impertinent fellow are you that\nhas dared to haul up your ship alongside of our ships?' said I. 'I am,'\nsaid he, 'the Son of the Wet Mantle, going to seek the daughter of the\nKing of the Universe for Mac Connachar, son of the King of Lochlann.' 'I\nam your father, and this is your brother: it is well that you have\ncome,' said I. We passed the night together in the hut, my two sons and\nI.\n\n\"When I rose next day I saw another ship coming, and making straight for\nthe place where I was. A big, strong champion sprang out of it, and\nhauled it up alongside of our ships; and if it was not higher than they,\nit was not lower. I went down where he was, and said to him, 'What\nimpertinent fellow are you that has dared to haul up your ship alongside\nof our ships?' 'I am the Son of the Wet Mantle,' said he, 'going to seek\nthe daughter of the King of the Universe for Mac Connachar, son of the\nKing of Lochlann.' 'Have you any token in proof of that?' said I. 'I\nhave,' said he: 'here is a ring that my mother gave me at my father's\nrequest.' I took hold of the ring, and saw my name on it: and the matter\nwas beyond doubt. I said to him, 'I am your father, and here are two\nhalf-brothers of yours. We are now stronger for going in quest of the\ndaughter of the King of the Universe. Four piles are stronger than three\npiles.' We spent that night cheerily and comfortably together in the\nhut.\n\n\"On the morrow we met a soothsayer, and he spoke to us: 'You are going\nin quest of the daughter of the King of the Universe. I will tell you\nwhere she is: she is with the Son of the Blackbird.'\n\n\"Machkan-na-skaya-jayrika then went and called for combat with a hundred\nfully trained heroes, or the sending out to him of the daughter of the\nKing of the Universe. The hundred went out; and he and they began on\neach other, and he killed every one of them. The Son of the Wet Mantle\ncalled for combat with another hundred, or the sending out of the\ndaughter of the King of the Universe. He killed that hundred with the\nshort spear. The Son of Secret called for combat with another hundred,\nor the daughter of the King of the Universe. He killed every one of\nthese with the short spear. I then went out to the field, and sounded a\nchallenge on the shield, and made the town tremble. The Son of the\nBlackbird had not a man to send out: he had to come out himself; and he\nand I began on each other, and I drew the short spear, and swept his\nhead off. I then went into the castle, and took out the daughter of the\nKing of the Universe. It was thus that it fared with me.\n\n \"Stretch out your leg, Kayn, till I put a salve of herbs and\n healing to it. Salve and binding herb and the poultice are\n cooling; the worm is channering. Pressure and haste hard bind me,\n for I must hear Mass in the great church at Rome, and be in\n Norway before I sleep.\"\n\nKayn Mac Loy stretched his leg; and the big man applied to it leaves of\nherbs and healing; and it was healed. The big man took him ashore from\nthe island, and allowed him to go home to the king.\n\nThus did O'Cronicert win and lose a wife, and thus befell the Leeching\nof the leg of Kayn, son of Loy.\n\n\n\n\nHow Fin went to the Kingdom of the Big Men.\n\n\n[Illustration: F]\n\nFin and his men were in the Harbour of the Hill of Howth on a hillock,\nbehind the wind and in front of the sun, where they could see every\nperson, and nobody could see them, when they saw a speck coming from the\nwest. They thought at first it was the blackness of a shower; but when\nit came nearer, they saw it was a boat. It did not lower sail till it\nentered the harbour. There were three men in it; one for guide in the\nbow, one for steering in the stern, and one for the tackle in the\ncentre. They came ashore, and drew it up seven times its own length in\ndry grey grass, where the scholars of the city could not make it stock\nfor derision or ridicule.\n\nThey then went up to a lovely green spot, and the first lifted a handful\nof round pebbles or shingle, and commanded them to become a beautiful\nhouse, that no better could be found in Ireland; and this was done. The\nsecond one lifted a slab of slate, and commanded it to be slate on the\ntop of the house, that there was not better in Ireland; and this was\ndone. The third one caught a bunch of shavings and commanded them to be\npine-wood and timber in the house, that there was not in Ireland better;\nand this was done.\n\nThis caused much wonder to Fin, who went down where the men were, and\nmade inquiries of them, and they answered him. He asked whence they\nwere, or whither they were going. They said, \"We are three Heroes whom\nthe King of the Big Men has sent to ask combat of the Fians.\" He then\nasked, \"What was the reason for doing this?\" They said they did not\nknow, but they heard that they were strong men, and they came to ask\ncombat of Heroes from them. \"Is Fin at Home?\" \"He is not.\" (Great is a\nman's leaning towards his own life). Fin then put them under crosses and\nunder enchantments, that they were not to move from the place where they\nwere till they saw him again.\n\nHe went away and made ready his coracle, gave its stern to land and prow\nto sea, hoisted the spotted towering sails against the long, tough,\nlance-shaped mast, cleaving the billows in the embrace of the wind in\nwhirls, with a soft gentle breeze from the height of the sea-coast, and\nfrom the rapid tide of the red rocks, that would take willom from the\nhill, foliage from the tree, and heather from its stock and roots. Fin\nwas guide in her prow, helm in her stern, and tackle in her middle; and\nstopping of head or foot he did not make till he reached the Kingdom of\nthe Big Men. He went ashore and drew up his coracle in grey grass. He\nwent up, and a Big Wayfarer met him. Fin asked who he was. \"I am,\" he\nsaid, \"the Red-haired Coward of the King of the Big Men; and,\" said he\nto Fin, \"you are the one I am in quest of. Great is my esteem and\nrespect towards you; you are the best maiden I have ever seen; you will\nyourself make a dwarf for the King, and your dog (this was Bran) a\nlapdog. It is long since the King has been in want of a dwarf and a\nlapdog.\" He took with him Fin; but another Big Man came, and was going\nto take Fin from him. The two fought; but when they had torn each\nother's clothes, they left it to Fin to judge. He chose the first one.\nHe took Fin with him to the palace of the King, whose worthies and high\nnobles assembled to see the little man. The king lifted him upon the\npalm of his hand, and went three times round the town with Fin upon one\npalm and Bran upon the other. He made a sleeping-place for him at the\nend of his own bed. Fin was waiting, watching, and observing everything\nthat was going on about the house. He observed that the King, as soon as\nnight came, rose and went out, and returned no more till morning. This\ncaused him much wonder, and at last he asked the King why he went away\nevery night and left the Queen by herself. \"Why,\" said the King, \"do you\nask?\" \"For satisfaction to myself,\" said Fin; \"for it is causing me much\nwonder.\" Now the King had a great liking for Fin; he never saw anything\nthat gave him more pleasure than he did; and at last he told him. \"There\nis,\" he said, \"a great Monster who wants my daughter in marriage, and to\nhave half my kingdom to himself; and there is not another man in the\nkingdom who can meet him but myself; and I must go every night to hold\ncombat with him.\" \"Is there,\" said Fin, \"no man to combat with him but\nyourself?\" \"There is not,\" said the King, \"one who will war with him for\na single night.\" \"It is a pity,\" said Fin, \"that this should be called\nthe Kingdom of the Big Men. Is he bigger than yourself?\" \"Never you\nmind,\" said the King. \"I will mind,\" said Fin; \"take your rest and sleep\nto-night, and I shall go to meet him.\" \"Is it you?\" said the King; \"you\nwould not keep half a stroke against him.\"\n\nWhen night came, and all men went to rest, the King was for going away\nas usual; but Fin at last prevailed upon him to allow himself to go. \"I\nshall combat him,\" said he, \"or else he knows a trick.\" \"I think much,\"\nsaid the King, \"of allowing you to go, seeing he gives myself enough to\ndo.\" \"Sleep you soundly to-night,\" said Fin, \"and let me go; if he comes\ntoo violently upon me, I shall hasten home.\"\n\nFin went and reached the place where the combat was to be. He saw no one\nbefore him, and he began to pace backwards and forwards. At last he saw\nthe sea coming in kilns of fire and as a darting serpent, till it came\ndown below where he was. A Huge Monster came up and looked towards him,\nand from him. \"What little speck do I see there?\" he said. \"It is I,\"\nsaid Fin. \"What are you doing here?\" \"I am a messenger from the King of\nthe Big Men; he is under much sorrow and distress; the Queen has just\ndied, and I have come to ask if you will be so good as to go home\nto-night without giving trouble to the kingdom.\" \"I shall do that,\" said\nhe; and he went away with the rough humming of a song in his mouth.\n\nFin went home when the time came, and lay down in his own bed, at the\nfoot of the King's bed. When the King awoke, he cried out in great\nanxiety, \"My kingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!\"\n\"They are not,\" said Fin; \"I am here yet; and you have got your sleep, a\nthing you were saying it was rare for you to get.\" \"How,\" said the King,\n\"did you escape, when you are so little, while he is enough for myself,\nthough I am so big.\" \"Though you,\" said Fin, \"are so big and strong, I\nam quick and active.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNext night the King was for going; but Fin told him to take his sleep\nto-night again. \"I shall stand myself in your place, or else a better\nhero than yonder one must come.\" \"He will kill you,\" said the King. \"I\nshall take my chance,\" said Fin.\n\nHe went, and as happened the night before, he saw no one; and he began\nto pace backwards and forwards. He saw the sea coming in fiery kilns and\nas a darting serpent; and that Huge Man came up. \"Are you here to-night\nagain?\" said he. \"I am, and this is my errand: when the Queen was being\nput in the coffin, and the King heard the coffin being nailed, and the\njoiner's stroke, he broke his heart with pain and grief; and the\n_Parliament_ has sent me to ask you to go home to-night till they get\nthe King buried.\" The Monster went this night also, roughly humming a\nsong; and Fin went home when the time came.\n\nIn the morning the King awoke in great anxiety, and called out, \"My\nkingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!\" and he greatly\nrejoiced that Fin and Bran were alive, and that he himself got rest,\nafter being so long without sleep.\n\nFin went the third night, and things happened as before. There was no\none before him, and he took to pacing to and fro. He saw the sea coming\ntill it came down below him: the Big Monster came up; he saw the little\nblack speck, and asked who was there, and what he wanted. \"I have come\nto combat you,\" said Fin.\n\nFin and Bran began the combat. Fin was going backwards, and the Huge Man\nwas following. Fin called to Bran, \"Are you going to let him kill me?\"\nBran had a venomous shoe; and he leaped and struck the Huge Man with the\nvenomous shoe on the breast-bone, and took the heart and lungs out of\nhim. Fin drew his sword, Mac-a-Luin, cut off his head, put it on a\nhempen rope, and went with it to the Palace of the King. He took it into\nthe _Kitchen_, and put it behind the door. In the morning the servant\ncould not turn it, nor open the door. The King went down; he saw the\nHuge Mass, caught it by the top of the head, and lifted it, and knew it\nwas the head of the Man who was for so long a time asking combat from\nhim, and keeping him from sleep. \"How at all,\" said he, \"has this head\ncome here? Surely it is not my dwarf that has done it.\" \"Why,\" said Fin,\n\"should he not?\"\n\nNext night the King wanted to go himself to the place of combat;\n\"because,\" said he, \"a bigger one than the former will come to-night,\nand the kingdom will be destroyed, and you yourself killed; and I shall\nlose the pleasure I take in having you with me.\" But Fin went, and that\nBig Man came, asking vengeance for his son, and to have the kingdom for\nhimself, or equal combat. He and Fin fought; and Fin was going\nbackwards. He spoke to Bran, \"Are you going to allow him to kill me?\"\nBran whined, and went and sat down on the beach. Fin was ever being\ndriven back, and he called out again to Bran. Then Bran jumped and\nstruck the Big Man with the venomous shoe, and took the heart and the\nlungs out of him. Fin cut the head off, and took it with him, and left\nit in front of the house. The King awoke in great terror, and cried out,\n\"My kingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!\" Fin raised\nhimself up and said, \"They are not\"; and the King's joy was not small\nwhen he went out and saw the head that was in front of the house.\n\nThe next night a Big Hag came ashore, and the tooth in the door of her\nmouth would make a distaff. She sounded a challenge on her shield: \"You\nkilled,\" she said, \"my husband and my son.\" \"I did kill them,\" said Fin.\nThey fought; and it was worse for Fin to guard himself from the tooth\nthan from the hand of the Big Hag. When she had nearly done for him Bran\nstruck her with the venomous shoe, and killed her as he had done to the\nrest. Fin took with him the head, and left it in front of the house. The\nKing awoke in great anxiety, and called out, \"My kingdom is lost, and my\ndwarf and my lapdog are killed!\" \"They are not,\" said Fin, answering\nhim; and when they went out and saw the head, the King said, \"I and my\nkingdom will have peace ever after this. The mother herself of the brood\nis killed; but tell me who you are. It was foretold for me that it would\nbe Fin-mac-Coul that would give me relief, and he is only now eighteen\nyears of age. Who are you, then, or what is your name?\" \"There never\nstood,\" said Fin, \"on hide of cow or horse, one to whom I would deny my\nname. I am Fin, the Son of Coul, son of Looach, son of Trein, son of\nFin, son of Art, son of the young High King of Erin; and it is time for\nme now to go home. It has been with much wandering out of my way that I\nhave come to your kingdom; and this is the reason why I have come, that\nI might find out what injury I have done to you, or the reason why you\nsent the three heroes to ask combat from me, and bring destruction on my\nMen.\" \"You never did any injury to me,\" said the King; \"and I ask a\nthousand pardons. I did not send the heroes to you. It is not the truth\nthey told. They were three men who were courting three fairy women, and\nthese gave them their shirts; and when they have on their shirts, the\ncombat of a hundred men is upon the hand of every one of them. But they\nmust put off the shirts every night, and put them on the backs of\nchairs; and if the shirts were taken from them they would be next day as\nweak as other people.\"\n\nFin got every honour, and all that the King could give him, and when he\nwent away, the King and the Queen and the people went down to the shore\nto give him their blessing.\n\nFin now went away in his coracle, and was sailing close by the side of\nthe shore, when he saw a young man running and calling out to him. Fin\ncame in close to land with his coracle, and asked what he wanted. \"I\nam,\" said the young man, \"a good servant wanting a master.\" \"What work\ncan you do?\" said Fin. \"I am,\" said he, \"the best soothsayer that there\nis.\" \"Jump into the boat then.\" The soothsayer jumped in, and they went\nforward.\n\nThey did not go far when another youth came running. \"I am,\" he said, \"a\ngood servant wanting a master.\" \"What work can you do?\" said Fin. \"I am\nas good a thief as there is.\" \"Jump into the boat, then\"; and Fin took\nwith him this one also. They saw then a third young man running and\ncalling out. They came close to land. \"What man are you?\" said Fin. \"I\nam,\" said he, \"the best climber that there is. I will take up a hundred\npounds on my back in a place where a fly could not stand on a calm\nsummer day.\" \"Jump in\"; and this one came in also. \"I have my pick of\nservants now,\" said Fin; \"it cannot be but these will suffice.\"\n\nThey went; and stop of head or foot they did not make till they reached\nthe Harbour of the Hill of Howth. He asked the soothsayer what the three\nBig Men were doing. \"They are,\" he said, \"after their supper, and making\nready for going to bed.\"\n\nHe asked a second time. \"They are,\" he said, \"after going to bed; and\ntheir shirts are spread on the back of chairs.\"\n\nAfter a while, Fin asked him again, \"What are the Big Men doing now?\"\n\"They are,\" said the soothsayer, \"sound asleep.\" \"It would be a good\nthing if there was now a thief to go and steal the shirts.\" \"I would do\nthat,\" said the thief, \"but the doors are locked, and I cannot get in.\"\n\"Come,\" said the climber, \"on my back, and I shall put you in.\" He took\nhim up upon his back to the top of the chimney, and let him down, and he\nstole the shirts.\n\nFin went where the Fian band was; and in the morning they came to the\nhouse where the three Big Men were. They sounded a challenge upon their\nshields, and asked them to come out to combat.\n\nThey came out. \"Many a day,\" said they, \"have we been better for combat\nthan we are to-day,\" and they confessed to Fin everything as it was.\n\"You were,\" said Fin, \"impertinent, but I will forgive you\"; and he made\nthem swear that they would be faithful to himself ever after, and ready\nin every enterprise he would place before them.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHow Cormac Mac Art went to Faery.\n\n\n[Illustration: C]\n\nCormac, son of Art, son of Conn of the Hundred Battles, was high King of\nIreland, and held his Court at Tara. One day he saw a youth upon the\ngreen having in his hand a glittering fairy branch with nine apples of\nred. And whensoever the branch was shaken, wounded men and women\nenfeebled by illness would be lulled to sleep by the sound of the very\nsweet fairy music which those apples uttered, nor could any one upon\nearth bear in mind any want, woe, or weariness of soul when that branch\nwas shaken for him.\n\n\"Is that branch thy own?\" said Cormac.\n\n\"It is indeed mine.\"\n\n\"Wouldst thou sell it? and what wouldst thou require for it?\"\n\n\"Will you give me what I ask?\" said the youth.\n\nThe king promised, and the youth then claimed his wife, his daughter,\nand his son. Sorrowful of heart was the king, heaviness of heart filled\nhis wife and children when they learned that they must part from him.\nBut Cormac shook the branch amongst them, and when they heard the soft\nsweet music of the branch they forgot all care and sorrow and went forth\nto meet the youth, and he and they took their departure and were seen no\nmore. Loud cries of weeping and mourning were made throughout Erin when\nthis was known: but Cormac shook the branch so that there was no longer\nany grief or heaviness of heart upon any one.\n\nAfter a year Cormac said: \"It is a year to-day since my wife, my son,\nand my daughter were taken from me. I will follow them by the same path\nthat they took.\"\n\nCormac went off, and a dark magical mist rose about him, and he chanced\nto come upon a wonderful marvellous plain. Many horsemen were there,\nbusy thatching a house with the feathers of foreign birds; when one side\nwas thatched they would go and seek more, and when they returned not a\nfeather was on the roof. Cormac gazed at them for a while and then went\nforward.\n\nAgain, he saw a youth dragging up trees to make a fire; but before he\ncould find a second tree the first one would be burnt, and it seemed to\nCormac that his labour would never end.\n\nCormac journeyed onwards until he saw three immense wells on the border\nof the plain, and on each well was a head. From out the mouth of the\nfirst head there flowed two streams, into it there flowed one; the\nsecond head had a stream flowing out of and another stream into its\nmouth, whilst three streams were flowing from the mouth of the third\nhead. Great wonder seized Cormac, and he said: \"I will stay and gaze\nupon these wells, for I should find no man to tell me your story.\" With\nthat he set onwards till he came to a house in the middle of a field. He\nentered and greeted the inmates. There sat within a tall couple clad in\nmany-hued garments, and they greeted the king, and bade him welcome for\nthe night.\n\nThen the wife bade her husband seek food, and he arose and returned with\na huge wild boar upon his back and a log in his hand. He cast down the\nswine and the log upon the floor, and said: \"There is meat; cook it for\nyourselves.\"\n\n\"How can I do that?\" said Cormac.\n\n\"I will teach you,\" said the youth. \"Split this great log, make four\npieces of it, and make four quarters of the hog; put a log under each\nquarter; tell a true story, and the meat will be cooked.\"\n\n\"Tell the first story yourself,\" said Cormac.\n\n\"Seven pigs I have of the same kind as the one I brought, and I could\nfeed the world with them. For if a pig is killed I have but to put its\nbones into the stye again, and it will be found alive the next morning.\"\n\nThe story was true, and a quarter of the pig was cooked.\n\nThen Cormac begged the woman of the house to tell a story.\n\n\"I have seven white cows, and they fill seven cauldrons with milk every\nday, and I give my word that they yield as much milk as would satisfy\nthe men of the whole world if they were out on yonder plain drinking\nit.\"\n\nThat story was true, and a second quarter of the pig was cooked.\n\nCormac was bidden now to tell a story for his quarter, and he told how\nhe was upon a search for his wife, his son and his daughter that had\nbeen borne away from him a year before by a youth with a fairy branch.\n\n\"If what thou sayest be true,\" said the man of the house, \"thou art\nindeed Cormac, son of Art, son of Conn of the Hundred Battles.\"\n\n\"Truly I am,\" quoth Cormac.\n\nThat story was true, and a quarter of the pig was cooked.\n\n\"Eat thy meal now,\" said the man of the house.\n\n\"I never ate before,\" said Cormac, \"having only two people in my\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Wouldst thou eat it with three others?\"\n\n\"If they were dear to me, I would,\" said Cormac.\n\nThen the door opened, and there entered the wife and children of Cormac:\ngreat was his joy and his exultation.\n\nThen Manannan mac Lir, lord of the fairy Cavalcade, appeared before him\nin his own true form, and said thus:\n\n\"I it was, Cormac, who bore away these three from thee. I it was who\ngave thee this branch, all that I might bring thee here. Eat now and\ndrink.\"\n\n\"I would do so,\" said Cormac, \"could I learn the meaning of the wonders\nI saw to-day.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt learn them,\" said Manannan. \"The horsemen thatching the roof\nwith feathers are a likeness of people who go forth into the world to\nseek riches and fortune; when they return their houses are bare, and so\nthey go on for ever. The young man dragging up the trees to make a fire\nis a likeness of those who labour for others: much trouble they have,\nbut they never warm themselves at the fire. The three heads in the wells\nare three kinds of men. Some there are who give freely when they get\nfreely; some who give freely though they get little; some who get much\nand give little, and they are the worst of the three, Cormac,\" said\nManannan.\n\nAfter that Cormac and his wife and his children sat down, and a\ntable-cloth was spread before them.\n\n\"That is a very precious thing before thee,\" said Manannan, \"there is no\nfood however delicate that shall be asked of it but it shall be had\nwithout doubt.\"\n\n\"That is well,\" quoth Cormac.\n\nAfter that Manannan thrust his hand into his girdle and brought out a\ngoblet and set it upon his palm. \"This cup has this virtue,\" said he,\n\"that when a false story is told before it, it makes four pieces of it,\nand when a true story is related it is made whole again.\"\n\n\"Those are very precious things you have, Manannan,\" said the king.\n\n\"They shall all be thine,\" said Manannan, \"the goblet, the branch and\nthe tablecloth.\"\n\nThen they ate their meal, and that meal was good, for they could not\nthink of any meat but they got it upon the table-cloth, nor of any drink\nbut they got it in the cup. Great thanks did they give to Manannan.\n\nWhen they had eaten their meal a couch was prepared for them and they\nlaid down to slumber and sweet sleep.\n\nWhere they rose on the morrow morn was in Tara of the kings, and by\ntheir side were tablecloth, cup, and branch.\n\nThus did Cormac fare at the Court of Manannan, and this is how he got\nthe fairy branch.\n\n\n\n\nThe Ridere of Riddles.\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was a king once, and he married a great lady, and she departed on\nthe birth of her first son. And a little after this the king married\nanother wife, and she too had a son. The two lads grew up tall and\nstrong. Then it struck the queen that it was not her son who would come\ninto the kingdom; and she set it before her that she would poison the\neldest son. And so she sent advice to the cooks that they should put\npoison in the drink of the heir; but as luck was in it, the youngest\nbrother heard them, and he told his brother not to take the draught, nor\nto drink it at all; and so he did. But the queen wondered that the lad\nwas not dead; and she thought that there was not enough of poison in the\ndrink, and she asked the cook to put in more on the second night. It was\nthus they did: and when the cook made up the drink, she said that he\nwould not be long alive after this draught. But his brother heard this\nalso, and told him likewise. The eldest thought he would put the draught\ninto a little bottle, and he said to his brother--\"If I stay in this\nhouse I have no doubt she will do for me some way or other, and the\nquicker I leave the house the better. I will take the world for my\npillow, and there is no knowing what fortune will be on me.\" His brother\nsaid that he would go with him, and they took themselves off to the\nstable, and they put saddles on two horses and they took their soles out\nof that.\n\nThey had not gone very far from the house when the eldest one\nsaid--\"There is no knowing if poison was in the drink at all, though we\nwent away. Try it in the horse's ear and we shall see.\" The horse did\nnot go far before he fell. \"That was only a rattle-bones of a horse\nanyway,\" said the eldest one, and they got up together on the other\nhorse, and so they went forwards. \"But,\" said he, \"I can scarce believe\nthat there is any poison in the drink; let's try it on this horse.\" That\nhe did, and they went not far when the horse fell cold dead. They\nthought they'd take the hide off him, and that it would keep them warm\nat night which was close at hand. In the morning when they woke they saw\ntwelve ravens come and light on the carcase of the horse, and they were\nnot long there when they fell down dead.\n\nThey went and lifted the ravens, and they took them with them, and the\nfirst town they reached they gave the ravens to a baker, and they asked\nhim to make a dozen pies of the ravens. They took the pies with them,\nand they went forward on their journey. About the mouth of night, and\nwhen they were in a great thick wood, there came four and twenty robbers\nwho bade them to deliver up their purses; but they said that they had no\npurse, but only a little food which they were carrying with them. \"Good\nis even meat!\" said the robbers, and they began to eat it, but had not\neaten much when they fell hither and thither, all stone dead. When they\nsaw that the robbers were dead they ransacked their pockets, and got\nmuch gold and silver. They went forward till they reached the Knight of\nRiddles.\n\nThe house of the Knight of Riddles was in the finest place in that\ncountry, and if his house was pretty, his daughter was prettier, and she\nhad twelve maidens with her only less fair than she. Her like was not on\nthe surface of the world, altogether so handsome was she; and no one\nwould get her to marry but the man who could put a question to her\nfather that he could not solve. The brothers thought that they would go\nand try to put a question to him; and the youngest was to stand in place\nof gillie to the elder brother. They reached the house of the Knight of\nRiddles and this was the question they put to him--\"One killed two, and\ntwo killed twelve, and twelve killed four and twenty, and two got out of\nit\"; and they were to be kept in great majesty and high honour till he\nshould solve the riddle.\n\nThey were thus a while with the Ridere, and try as he might he could not\nguess the riddle. On a day of days came one of the maidens who were with\nthe knight's daughter to the gillie, and asked him to tell her the\nquestion. He took her plaid from her and let her go, but he told her\nnothing. The same thing happened to the twelve maidens, day after day,\nand the gillie said to the last one that no creature had the answer to\nthe riddle but his master down below. One day after this came the\nknight's daughter to the eldest brother, and looking her finest and\nhandsomest, and she asked him to tell her the question. And now there\nwas no refusing her, and he told her, but he kept her plaid. The Knight\nof Riddles sent for him, and he gave him the answer of the riddle. And\nthe knight said that he had two choices: to lose his head, or to be set\nadrift in a crazy boat without food or drink, without oar or scoop. The\nelder brother spoke, and he said--\"I have another riddle to put to thee\nbefore all these things happen.\" \"Say on,\" said the knight. \"Myself and\nmy gillie were one day in the forest shooting. My gillie fired at a\nhare, and she fell, and he took her skin off, and let her go; and so he\ndid to twelve, he took their skins off and let them go. And at last came\na great fine hare, and I myself fired at her, and I took her skin off,\nand I let her go.\" \"Indeed thy riddle is not hard to solve, my lad,\"\nsaid the knight, and he knew the lad knew he had not really guessed the\nriddle, but had been told the answer. So he gave him his daughter to\nwife, to make him hold his peace, and they made a great hearty wedding\nthat lasted a day and a year. The youngest one went home now that his\nbrother had got so well on his way, and the eldest brother gave him\nevery right over the kingdom that was at home.\n\nNow there were near the march of the kingdom of the Knight of Riddles\nthree giants, and they were always murdering and slaying some of the\nknight's people, and taking spoil from them. On a day of days the Knight\nof Riddles said to his son-in-law, that if the spirit of a man were in\nhim, he would go to kill the giants, as they were always bringing such\nlosses on the country. Well, so it was, he went and he met the giants,\nand he came home with the three giants' heads, and he threw them at the\nknight's feet. \"Thou art an able lad doubtless, and thy name hereafter\nis the Hero of the White Shield.\" The name of the Hero of the White\nShield went far and near.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nMeanwhile the brother of the Hero of the White Shield had wandered afar\nin many countries, and after long years had come to the land of the\ngiants where the Hero of the White Shield was now dwelling, and the\nknight's daughter with him. His brother came and he asked to make a\n_covrag_ or fight as a bull with him. The men began at each other, and\nthey took to wrestling from morning till evening. At last and at length,\nwhen they were tired, weak, and spent, the Hero of the White Shield\njumped over a great rampart, and he asked the stranger to meet him in\nthe morning. This leap put the other to shame, and he said to him, \"Well\nmay it be that thou wilt not be so supple about this time to-morrow.\"\nThe young brother now went to a poor little bothy that was near to the\nhouse of the Hero of the White Shield, tired and drowsy, and in the\nmorning they dared the fight again. And the Hero of the White Shield\nbegan to go back, till he went backwards into a river. \"There must be\nsome of my blood in thee before that was done to me.\" \"Of what blood art\nthou?\" said the youngest. \"'Tis I am son of Ardan, great King of the\nAlbann.\" \"'Tis I am thy brother.\" It was now they knew each other. They\ngave luck and welcome to each other, and the Hero of the White Shield\nnow took him into the palace, and she it was that was pleased to see\nhim--the knight's daughter. He stayed a while with them, and after that\nhe thought that he would go home to his own kingdom; and when he was\ngoing past a great palace that was there he saw twelve men playing at\nshinny over against the palace. He thought he would go for a while and\nplay shinny with them; but they were not long playing shinny when they\nfell out, and the weakest of them caught him and shook him as he would a\nchild. He thought it was no use for him to lift a hand amongst these\ntwelve worthies, and he asked them to whom they were sons. They said\nthey were children of the one father, the brother of the Hero of the\nWhite Shield, who had not been heard of for many years. \"I am your\nfather,\" said he; and he asked them if their mother was alive. They said\nthat she was. He went with them till he found the mother, and he took\nher home with him and the twelve sons; and I don't know but that his\nseed are kings on Alba till this very day.\n\n\n\n\nThe Tail.\n\n\n[Illustration: T]\n\nThere was a shepherd once who went out to the hill to look after his\nsheep. It was misty and cold, and he had much trouble to find them. At\nlast he had them all but one; and after much searching he found that one\ntoo in a peat hag, half drowned; so he took off his plaid, and bent down\nand took hold of the sheep's tail, and he pulled! The sheep was heavy\nwith water, and he could not lift her, so he took off his coat and he\n_pulled!!_ but it was too much for him, so he spit on his hands, and\ntook a good hold of the tail and he PULLED!! and the tail broke! and if\nit had not been for that this tale would have been a great deal longer.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n[Illustration: MAN OR WOMAN BOY OR GIRL THAT READS WHAT FOLLOWS 3 TIMES\nSHALL FALL ASLEEP AN HUNDRED YEARS\n\nJOHN D. BATTEN DREW THIS: AUG. 19th, 1891 GOOD-NIGHT]\n\n\n\n\nNotes and References.\n\n\nI have scarcely anything to add to the general account of the collection\nof Celtic Fairy Tales which I gave in the predecessor to this volume,\npages 237-42. Since the appearance of that volume in 1891, the\npublication of such tales has gone on apace. Mr. Curtin has published in\nthe New York _Sun_ no less than fifty more Irish fairy tales, one of\nwhich he has been good enough to place at my disposal for the present\nvolume. Mr. Larminie has published with Mr. E. Stock a volume of _West\nIrish Fairy Tales_, of which I have also the privilege of presenting a\nspecimen. A slight volume of Welsh Fairy Tales, published by Mr. Nutt,\nand a few fairy anecdotes contained in the Prize Essay on Welsh\nFolk-lore by the Rev. Mr. Evans, sum up Cambria's contribution to our\nsubject during the past three years. The fifth volume of the _Waifs and\nStrays of Celtic Tradition_, just about to appear at the moment of\nwriting, is the sole addition to Celtic Fairy Tales from the country of\nJ. F. Campbell. Taken altogether, something like a hundred previously\nunpublished tales from Celtdom have been rendered accessible to the\nworld since I last wrote, a by no means insignificant outcome in three\nyears. It is at any rate clear, that the only considerable addition to\nour folk-lore knowledge in these isles must come from the Gaelic area.\nThe time of harvest can be but short; may the workers be many, willing,\nand capable.\n\n\nXXVII. THE FATE OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR.\n\n_Sources._--Abridged from the text and translation published by the\nSociety for the Preservation of the Irish Language in 1883. This merely\nfollows the text and version given by Professor O'Curry in _Atlantis_,\niv. He used three Dublin MSS., none of them, however, of earlier date\nthan the eighteenth century. Dr. Joyce gives a free paraphrase in his\n_Old Celtic Romances_.\n\n_Parallels._--For \"Jealous Stepmother,\" see the bibliographical\nreferences in the list of incidents at the end of my paper on the\n\"Science of Folk-tales\" in the _Transactions of the Folk-lore Congress_,\n_sub voce_. Add Miss Roalfe Cox in _Folk-lore Journal_, vii. app. 37;\nalso the same list _sub voce_ \"Swan Maiden Transformation.\" In modern\nIrish literature Griffin has included the tale in his _Tales of the\nJury-room_, and Tom Moore's \"Song of Fiounala\" beginning \"Silent, O\nMoyle\" is founded upon it.\n\n_Remarks._--The \"Fate of the Children of Lir\" is always referred to\nalong with \"The Story of Deirdre\" (_cf._ the _Celtic Fairy Tales_, ix.),\nand the \"Children of Tuireann\" as one of the Three Sorrowful Tales of\nErin. But there is no evidence of equal antiquity to the other two\nstories, of which one is as old as the eleventh century. From the\ninterspersed verse O'Curry concluded, however, that the story was at\nleast of considerable antiquity, and the references to the unknown Saint\nMochaomhog confirm his impression. The Hill of the White Field is near\nNewton Hannton, in the county of Armagh. The Lake of the Red Eye is\nLough Derg, in the Shannon above Killaloe.\n\nFingula is Fair Shoulder. The tradition that swans are inviolable is\nstill extant in Ireland. A man named Connor Griffin killed eleven swans:\nhe had previously been a prosperous man, and shortly afterwards his son\nwas drowned in the Shannon, his goods were lost, and his wife died\n(_Children of Lir_, Dublin edit., note, p. 87). In County Mayo it is\nbelieved that the souls of pure virgins are after death enshrined in the\nforms of swans; if anybody injures them, it is thought he will die\nwithin a year (Walter's _Natural History of the Birds of Ireland_, pp.\n94-5). Mr. Gomme concludes from this that the swan was at one time a\nBritish totem (_Arch. Rev._, iii. 226-7).\n\nAt first sight the tale seems little more than an argument against the\nBill for Marriage with a Deceased Wife's Sister, but the plaintive lays\nof Fingula, the touching detail of the swans flying over the desolate\nhill and White Field, give a touch of Celtic glamour to the whole story.\nThere is probably also a deep religious significance implied in the fact\nthat the wicked Aunt Stepmother's spell is broken when the transformed\nChildren of Lir come across the first Christian they meet.\n\nMr. Nutt has kindly communicated the following remarks on this tale:--\n\nThe Fate of the Children of Lir belongs formally to the so-called\nmythological cycle, the personages of which are the Tuatha de Danann.\nThe Irish annalists of the 10th-11th centuries described these as\nmembers of one of the races which possessed Ireland in pre-Christian\ntimes before the coming of the Milesians. But even in the most strongly\neuhemerised accounts the mythic nature of these beings is apparent, and\nmost modern scholars are agreed that they are in fact the members of a\nPagan Irish Pantheon. They live on to this very day in Irish folk-belief\nas chiefs and rulers of the fairies.\n\nThe MS. evidence for some of the stories concerning the Tuatha de Danann\nis as old as that for the oldest heroic cycle (the Ultonian of Conchobar\nand Cuchulainn). But the Tuatha de Danann legends have retained\nthroughout Irish literature greater plasticity and vitality than those\nof the Ultonian cycle, and many stories are not older in their present\nstate than the 14th and 15th centuries. This is probably the case with\nthe present story. The oldest known MS. only goes back to 1718, but this\nand the MS. of 1721, used by O'Curry for his edition, are certainly\ncopied from much older MSS.\n\nThe interesting question for storiologists is whether the themes of the\nstory--the swan-metamorphosis consequent upon the stepmother's jealousy,\nand the protecting role assigned to the sister--are of old native or of\nrecent imported nature. In support of the first hypothesis, it may be\nnoted that the theme of stepmotherly jealousy was current in Ireland in\nthe 10th century at the latest, as it is woven into the saga of the\nDestruction of Daderga's Fort (see my article \"_Folk-lore_,\" ii.). The\nfinal episode of the sudden aging of the miraculously long-lived swans\nis also genuinely Irish, but its true significance is obscured in our\nstory in a way that sufficiently demonstrates the late and secondary\ncharacter of the text. The idea is that the dwellers in Faery, whether\nfairy-folk or mortals penetrating thither, enjoy perpetual life,\nforfeited by the latter the moment they return to this earth. As\nchildren of the Tuatha de Danann, Fionngula and her brothers are\ndeathless, and the episode as it stands in our text results from a\ncontamination of the original form of the story in which the\nswan-metamorphosis was annulled under certain conditions (the removal of\nthe chains), when the original shape was resumed, and the familiar story\nof the mortal returning from Faery after hundreds of years, which he\ndeems to be but a short space of time, shrinking into dust the moment he\ntouches earth.\n\nThere is a well-known Continental folk-tale--the \"Seven Swans\" (or\nRavens)--of which we possess several mediaeval (12th to 13th century)\nversions, all connected with the romance of the \"Swan Knight.\" M. Gaston\nParis has studied the whole story group (_Romania_, xix. 314, &c.) with\nthe following results: The folk-tale of the seven swans had originally\nnothing to do with the saga of the swan-knight. The connection apparent\nin the 12th century texts is artificial; the swans owe their\nshape-shifting capacity to the superhuman nature of their mother; this\ntrait has been almost effaced even in the oldest versions. The\ndistinguishing mark of the swans in all the versions is the possession\nof silver or gold chains, which are what may be called metamorphosis\ntokens; it follows from this that the contamination of the two\nstory-types (\"Seven Swans\" and \"Swan Knight\") must be older than the\noldest version of the first story, as these chains can only be derived\nfrom the one with which in the Swan Knight saga the swan draws the\nknight back.\n\nIn _Romania_ (xxi. 62, _seq._) M. Ferd. Lot examines the question in the\nlight of our tale. He points out that it indicates clearly the\nsuperhuman nature of the mother, and that as the silver chains figure in\nthe story, they cannot be due in the Continental versions to\ncontamination with the Swan Knight saga, as M. Gaston Paris imagines. M.\nLot evidently inclines to look upon them as talismans, the abandonment\nof which was the original cause of the metamorphosis, and the handling\nof which at the end brings about the change back to human shape. He\npoints out that these chains form an essential part of the gear of\nbeings appearing in bird guise (especially if they belong to Faery);\nthus in the 10th-century \"Sickbed of Cuchulainn\" the goddesses Fand and\nLiban appear as two swans united by a golden chain; in the 8th to 9th\ncentury Conception of Cuchulainn, Dechtire, the mother of the hero by\nthe god Lug, appears with her companions in the guise of many-hued birds\nlinked together by chains of silver (or red gold in one version). The\nMS. evidence for these tales reaches back to the early 11th century.\n\nCuriously enough, M. Lot has not cited the closest parallel to our tale\nfrom old Irish literature, and one which is certainly connected with it\nin some measure, the fine story called the \"Dream of Angus.\" A story of\nthis title is cited in the epic catalogue of the Book of Leinster (which\ndates back to the early 11th century) as one of the introductory stories\nto the Tain bo Cuailgne. This assumed its present shape substantially\nbetween 650 and 750. The introductory stories had originally no\nconnection with it, and were invented or re-shaped in the 8th to 10th\ncenturies, after the Tain had taken undisputed place as the leading\nIrish epic. The tale may therefore be ascribed provisionally to the 9th\ncentury, if we can only be sure that the existing version, preserved in\na single MS. of the 15th century, is a faithful copy of the original.\nThere need be no doubt as to this. The text is due to a Christian\nscribe, and, like nearly all portions of the mythological cycle, betrays\nsigns of Christian influence, though not of Christian remodelling. Such\ninfluence is, however, far more likely to have exerted itself in the\nfirst stage of the written existence of these tales, when the memory of\norganised paganism was still tenacious, than later, when the tales had\nbecome subject-matter for the play of free poetic fancy. The story,\nprinted and translated by Dr. E. Muller, _Rev. Celt._, iv. 342, &c., is\nas follows: Angus (the chief wizard of the Tuatha de Danann) is visited\nin sleep by a maiden whose beauty throws him into love sickness. The\nwhole of Ireland is scoured to find her; the Dagda is appealed to in\nvain. At length, Bodb, fairy king of Munster, finds her at Loch bel\nDracon (this is not the only trace of the impression which the story of\nBel and the Dragon made upon the Irish mind). She lives there with 150\nswans; one year they are in swan shape the next in human shape. They\nappear as white birds with silvery chains and golden caps around their\nheads. Angus changes himself into a swan to be with her, and it is\nrecorded of the music they made that \"people fell asleep for three days\nand three nights.\" The soporific power of music is that which is chiefly\ncommended in old Irish literature.\n\nI think it is obvious that the writer of our story was familiar with\nthis and other legends in which swan-maids encircled with gold and\nsilver chains appear, and that we may fairly draw the following\nconclusions from the preceding facts: There existed an Irish folk-tale\nof a king with two wives, one a water or sea fairy, whose children\nderive from her the capacity of shape-shifting dependent upon certain\ntalismans; jealousy impels the human wife to tamper with these\ntalismans, and the children are condemned to remain in their animal\nform. This folk-tale was, probably at some time in the 14th or 15th\ncentury, arbitrarily fitted into the _cadre_ of the Tuatha de Danann\ncycle, and entirely re-fashioned in a spirit of pious edification by a\nman who was in his way a great and admirable artist. The origin and\nnature of the story, all the elements of which are genuinely national,\nassured for it wide and lasting popularity. The evolution of the Irish\nfolk-tale is in no way dependent upon that of the Continental folk-tale\nof the Seven Swans, but it is possible that the Celtic presentiment of\nthe chain-girdled swans may have influenced it as well as the Swan\nKnight Romance.\n\n\nXXVIII. JACK THE CUNNING THIEF.\n\n_Sources._--Kennedy, _Stories of Ireland_, pp. 38-46; Campbell, _West\nHighland Tales_, i. 320 _seq._; \"The Shifty Lad,\" Dasent, _Popular Tales\nfrom the Norse_, pp. 232-51, \"Master Thief.\" Koehler has a number of\nvariants in his notes on Campbell: _Orient und Occident_, Band ii. Mr.\nClouston has a monograph on the subject in his _Popular Tales_, ii.\n115-65. A separate treatise on the subject has been given by S. Prato,\n1882, _La Leggenda di Rhampsinite_. Both these writers connect the\nmodern folk-tales with Herodotus' story of King Rampsinites. Mr. Knowles\nin his _Folk-tales of Kashmir_, has a number of adventures of \"Sharaf\nthe Thief.\" The story of \"Master Thief\" has been heard among the tramps\nin London workhouses (Mayhew, _London Labour and London Poor_, iii.\n119).\n\n_Remarks._--Thievery is universally human, and at first sight it might\nseem that there was no connection between these various versions of the\n\"Master Thief.\" But the identity of the tricks by which the popular\nhero-thief gains his ends renders it impossible that they should have\nbeen independently invented wherever they are found.\n\n\nXXIX. POWEL, PRINCE OF DYFED.\n\n_Source._--Lady Guest's _Mabinogion_, with the names slightly\nanglicised, and omitting the opening incident.\n\n_Parallels._--For the incident of tearing off the hands, _cf._ Morraha;\nthe enchanted hill and maiden occur at the beginning of \"Tuairisgeul\nMor\" in _Scottish Celtic Review_, i. 61, and are fully commented upon by\nMr. Nutt, _l.c._ 137.\n\n\nXXX. PADDY O'KELLY AND THE WEASEL.\n\n_Sources._--Hyde, _Beside the Fire_, pp. 73-91.\n\n_Parallels._--On green hills as the homes of the fairies: see note on\n\"Childe Roland,\" _English Fairy Tales_, p. 241. The transformation of\nwitches into hares is a frequent _motif_ in folk-lore.\n\n\nXXXI. THE BLACK HORSE.\n\n_Sources._--From J. F. Campbell's manuscript collection now deposited at\nthe Advocates' Library in Edinburgh (MS. 53, vol. xi.). Collected in\nGaelic, February 14, 1862, by Hector MacLean, from Roderick MacNeill, in\nthe island of Menglay: MacNeill learnt the story about 1840 from a Barra\nman. I have omitted one visit of the Black Horse to Greece, but\notherwise left the tale untouched. Mr. Nutt gave a short abstract of the\nstory in his report on the Campbell MSS. in _Folk-lore_, i. 370.\n\n_Parallels._--Campbell gives the following parallels in his notes on the\ntale, which I quote verbatim. On the throwing into the well he remarks:\n\"So this incident of 'Lady Audley's Secret' was in the mind of a Barra\npeasant about 1840. Part of a modern novel may be as old as Aryan\nmythology, which was one point to be proved.\" [The incident of throwing\ninto the well almost invariably forms a part of the tales of the White\nCat type.]\n\nWith regard to the Black Horse, Campbell notes that a Gaelic riddle\nmakes a Black Horse identical with the West Wind, and adds: \"It is for\nconsideration whether this Horse throws light on the sacred Wheel in\nIndian Sculptures; it is to be noted that a Black Horse is the\nsacrificial colour.\"\n\n\"The Cup is a well-known myth about winning a Fairy Cup which pervades\nScandinavian England in many forms.\" \"A silver ring, two quaint\nserpents' heads pointing opposite ways, is a common Scandinavian\nwedding-ring; many were to be got in Barra and elsewhere in 1869, sold\nby emigrants bound for America.\"\n\n\"Those who can account for myths must settle the geography of the Snow\nMountain. Avalanches and glaciers are in Iceland, in the Caucasus, and\nin Central Asia. There are none within sight of Menglay. Hindoo\ncosmogony, which makes the world consist of seven rings, separated by\nseas and by a wall of mountains, may account for this in some sort.\"\n\nOn the spikes driven into the Horse, Campbell compares the Norse story\nof \"Dapple-grim\" and the Horse sacrifice of the Mahabharata. On the\nbuilding of the Magic Castle, Campbell remarks: \"Twashtri was the\nCarpenter of the Vedic gods: can this be his work?\"\n\nOn the Horse's head being struck off Campbell comments: \"This was the\nlast act in the Aryan Horse's sacrifice, and the first step in the Horse\napotheosis.\"\n\n_Remarks._--Campbell has the following note at the end of the tale, from\nwhich it would seem that in 1870 at least he was very nearly being an\n_Indiamaniac_.\n\n\"So ends this horse-riding story. Taking it as it is, with the test\nof language added, nothing short of an Asian origin will account for\nit. A Gaelic riddle makes 'a black horse' mean the invisible wind, and\na theorist might suppose this horse to be the air personified. As\nGreece is mentioned, he might be Pegasus, who had to do with wells.\nBut he had wings, and he was white, and there is nothing in classical\nfable like this Atlantic myth. 'The enchanted horse' of Arabian Nights\nwas a flying machine, and his adventures are quite different. This is\nnot the horse of Chaucer's Squire's Tale. He is more like 'Hrimfaxi,'\nthe horse of the Edda, who drew the car of Noett in heaven, and was\nridden round the earth in twelve hours, followed by Dagr and his\nglittering horse Skinfaxi. The black horse who always arrives at\nsunrise is like the horse of night, but there is no equivalent story\nin the Edda. 'Dapple-grim' in Norse tales is clad in a spiked bull's\nhide, and is mixed up with a blazing tar-barrel, but his adventures\nwon't fit, and he was grey.\n\n\"The story is but an imperfect skeleton. The cup was to give strength;\nhe had to open seven gates after he got the cup, but it does nothing.\nThe hood is to hide with; he went in and out of the palace unseen\nafter he had got the hood, but it plays no part. The light shoes were\nthe shoes of swiftness of course, but they never showed their paces.\nBaldr's horse was led to the funeral pile with all his gear; and Odin\nlaid the gold ring Draupnir on the pile. Such rites might account for\nthe ring in the blazing lake. Hermothr's ride northwards and downwards\nto the abode of Hel to seek Baldr, his leap over the grate, and his\nreturn with the ring (Edda 25), might account for one adventure.\n\n\"The many-coloured horses of the sun in the Indian mythology and solar\nmyths may account for all these horses, astronomically or\nmeteorologically. The old Aryan Aswa Medha or sacrifice of a black\nhorse, and the twelve adventures of Arjuna as told in the Mahabharata,\nare something like this story in some general vague way. But the\nsimplest explanation of this Menglay myth, fished out of the Atlantic,\nis to admit that 'the black horse' and all this mythical breed came\nwest with men who rode from the land where horses were tamed, which is\nunknown.\"\n\n\nXXXII. THE VISION OF MACCONGLINNEY.\n\n_Source._--Kindly condensed by Mr. Alfred Nutt from Prof. Meyer's\nedition of _The Vision_ published in book form in 1892. This contains\ntwo versions, a longer one from a fourteenth century MS., _Leabhar Breac\nor Speckled Book_, and a shorter one from a sixteenth century MS. in\nthe Library of Trinity College, Dublin. A translation of the former\nversion was given by the late W. M. Hennessy in _Fraser's Magazine_,\nSeptember, 1873. Prof. Wollner, who contributed to Prof. Meyer's edition\nan introduction dealing with the story from the standpoint of\ncomparative literature, considers that the later version reproduces the\noriginal common source more nearly.\n\n_Parallels._--At first sight _The Vision_ seems to picture the Land of\nCockayne (on which see Poeschel, _Das Maehrchen vom Schlaraffenlande_,\nHalle, 1878), but as Prof. Wollner remarks, the Irish form is much more\nsimple and primitive, and represents rather an agricultural conception\nof a past _aurea aetas_. The conception of enormous appetite being due\nto the presence of a voracious animal or demon within the body is\nwidespread among the folk. Prof. Wollner gives numerous parallels,\n_l.c._ XLVII.-LIII. The common expression \"to wolf one's food\" is said\nto be derived from this conception. On the personification of disease,\nsee Tylor, _Primitive Culture_, ii. 148.\n\nI can myself remember a tale somewhat similar to _The Vision_ which I\nheard from my nurse in Australia, I fancy as a warning against gluttony.\nShe told me of a man, who in swallowing large pieces of food had\nswallowed a little hairy monster, which grew and grew and grew and\ncaused the man to be eating all day to satisfy his visitors. He was\ncured by being made to fast, and then a bowl of brandy was brought in\nfront of his mouth into which the hairy thing, attracted by the fumes,\njumped and was drowned.\n\n_Remarks._--We have here an interesting example of the personification\nof disease in the form of a demon, of which some examples occur in the\nGospels. The rollicking Rabelaisian tone in which the story is told\nprevents us, however, from attributing any serious belief in the\nconception by the Irish Monk the author of the tale, who was parodying,\naccording to Prof. Wollner, the Visions of the Saints. Still he would be\nscarcely likely to use the conception, even for purposes of parody,\nunless it were current among the folk, and it occurs among them even at\nthe present day. (See Hyde, _Beside the Fire_, p. 183.)\n\n\nXXXIII. DREAM OF OWEN O'MULREADY.\n\n_Sources._--Kindly translated by Mr. Leland L. Duncan from _Gaelic\nJournal_, vol. iv. p. 57 _seq._\n\n_Parallels._--Croker's _Daniel O'Rourke_ may be compared in part.\n\n_Remarks._--At first sight a mere droll, the story has its roots in the\nmost primitive philosophy. Owen's problem is to get in the Land of\nDreams. Now Dreamland, so all our students of Mythology are agreed, is\nthe source and origin of our belief in souls and spirits. Owen's problem\ntherefore resolves itself into this: where was he to go in order to come\ninto closest contact with the world of spirits. Mark what he does--he\nclears the hearth and has his bed made in it. Now it is round the hearth\nthat the fullest associations with the spirit life are clustered. The\nlate M. Fustel de Coulanges in his _Cite Antique_ traces back most of\nthe Greek and Roman religions and a large number of their institutions\nto the worship of the ancestors localised on the hearth. The late\nProfessor Hearn extended his line of research to the whole of the Aryans\nin his _Aryan Household_. It will thus be seen from this course of\nreasoning, that Owen was acting on the most approved primitive\nprinciples in adopting this curious method of obtaining dreams. The\nstory is not known elsewhere than in Ireland, and we are therefore at\nliberty to apply the method of survivals to this case.\n\n\nXXXIV. MORRAHA.\n\n_Sources._--The second story in Mr. W. Larminie's _West Irish\nFolk-tales_, pp. 10-30. The framework was collected from P. McGrale of\nAchill Island, Co. Mayo. The story itself was from Terence Davis of\nRendyle, Co. Galway. There is evidently confusion in the introductory\nportion between Niall's mother and wife.\n\n_Parallels._--Campbell's No. 1 has a very close parallel to the opening.\nMr. Larminie refers to a similar tale collected by Kennedy. Another\nversion from West Munster has been recently published in the _Gaelic\nJournal_, iv. 7, 26, 35. The evasion of the promise to give up the sword\nat the end seems a favourite incident in Achill folk-tales; it occurs in\ntwo others of Mr. Larminie's stories. On the framework, see note on\n\"Conal Yellow claw\" (_Celtic Folk-tales_, V.). I have there suggested\nthat the plan comes from the East, ultimately from Buddha.\n\n\nXXXV. THE STORY OF THE McANDREW FAMILY.\n\n_Sources._--Supplied by Mrs. Gale, now in the United States, from the\nrecitation of her mother who left Ireland over fifty years ago.\n\n_Parallels._--\"Noodle Tales\" like this are found everywhere in Europe,\nand have been discussed by Mr. Clouston in a special monograph in _The\nBook of Noodles_, 1889. The \"sell\" at the end is similar to that in the\n\"Wise Men of Gotham.\" Kennedy (_Fireside Stories of Ireland_) gives a\nsimilar set of adventures, p. 119 _seq._\n\n_Remarks._--Mrs. Gale remarks that it was a common superstition in\nIreland, that if a raven hovered over the head of cattle, a withering\nblight had been set upon the animals. As birds of carrion they were\nsupposed to be waiting for the carcases.\n\n\nXXXVI. THE FARMER OF LIDDESDALE.\n\n_Sources._--MacDougal, _Waifs and Strays_, III. ix. pp. 216-21.\n\n_Parallels._--Campbell, _West Highland Tales_, \"The Master and the Man,\"\niii. 288-92.\n\n_Remarks._--I need scarcely suggest the identification of the Ploughman\nwith the----. As usual in folk-tales, that personage does not get the\nbest of the bargain. The rustic Faust evades his contract by a direct\nappeal to the higher powers. This is probably characteristic of Scotch\npiety.\n\n\nXXXVII. THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER.\n\n_Sources._--Kennedy, _Fireside Stories_, pp. 47-56.\n\n_Parallels._--Campbell, _West Highland Tales_, lvi.; _Mac Iain Direach_,\nii. 344-76. He gives other variants at the end. The story is clearly\nthat of the Grimms' \"Golden Bird,\" No. 57. They give various parallels\nin their notes. Mrs. Hunt refers to an Eskimo version in Rae's _White\nSea Peninsula_, called \"Kuobba the Giant and the Devil.\" But the most\ncurious and instructive parallel is that afforded by the Arthurian\nRomance of Walewein (_i.e._, Gawain), now only extant in Dutch, which,\nas Professor W. P. Ker has pointed out in _Folk-lore_, v. 121, exactly\ncorresponds to the popular tale, and thus carries it back in Celtdom to\nthe early twelfth century at the latest.\n\n\nXXXVIII. THE RUSSET DOG.\n\n_Source._--I have made up this Celtic Reynard out of several fables\ngiven by Campbell, _West Highland Tales_, under the title \"Fables,\" vol.\ni. pp. 275 _seq._; and \"The Keg of Butter\" and the \"The Fox and the\nlittle Bonnach,\" vol. iii. Nos. lxv. lxvi.\n\n_Parallels._--The Fox's ruse about a truce among the animals is a\nwell-known AEsop's Fable; see my edition of _Caxton's AEsop_, vol. ii. p.\n307, and _Parallels_, vol. i. p. 267. The trick by which the cock gets\nout of the fox's mouth is a part of the Reynard Cycle, and is given by\nChaucer as his \"Nonne Preste's Tale.\" How the wolf lost his tail is also\npart of the same cycle, the parallels of which are given by K. Krohn,\n_Baer_ (_Wolf_) _und Fuchs_ (Helsingfors, 1889), pp. 26-8. The same\nwriter has studied the geographical distribution of the story in\nFinland, accompanied by a map, in _Fennia_, iv. No. 4. I have given a\nmediaeval Hebrew version in my _Jews of Angevin England_, pp. 170-2. See\nalso Gerber, _Great Russian Animal Tales_, pp. 48-50. The wolf was\noriginally the bear, as we see from the conclusion of the incident,\nwhich professes to explain why the wolf is stumpy-tailed. \"The Keg of\nButter\" combines two of the Grimm stories, 2, 189. \"The Little Bonnach\"\noccurs also in English and has been given in two variants in _English\nFairy Tales_, No. xxviii.; and _More English Fairy Tales_, No. lvii.\n\n_Remarks._--It would lead me too far afield to discuss here the sources\nof Reynard the Fox, with which I hope shortly to deal at length\nelsewhere. But I would remark that in this case, as in several others we\nhave observed, the stories, which are certainly reproductions, have\nreceived the characteristic Celtic dress. It follows that we cannot\nconclude anything as to the origin of a tale from the fact that it is\ntold idiomatically. On the other hand, the stories of \"The Fox and\nWrens\" and \"The Fox and the Todhunter,\" and \"How the Fox gets rid of his\nFleas,\" have no parallels elsewhere, and show the possibility of a\nnative beast tale or cycle of tales.\n\n\nXXXIX. SMALLHEAD AND THE KING'S SON.\n\n_Source._--Mr. Curtin's \"Hero Tales of Ireland,\" contributed to the _New\nYork Sun_.\n\n_Parallels._--Campbell's No. xvii., \"Maol a Chliobain,\" is the same\nstory, which is also found among the Lowlanders, and is given in my\n_English Fairy Tales_, No. xxii., \"Molly Whuppie,\" where see notes for\nother parallels of the Hop o' My Thumb type of story. King Under the\nWaves occurs in Campbell, No. lxxxvi.\n\n\nXL. THE LEGEND OF KNOCKGRAFTON.\n\n_Source._--Croker, _Fairy Legends of South of Ireland_.\n\n_Parallels._--Parnell's poem, _Edwin and Sir Topaz_, contains the same\nstory. As he was born in Dublin, 1679, this traces the tale back at\nleast 200 years in Ireland. Practically the same story, however, has\nbeen found in Japan, and translated into English under the title,\n\"Kobutori; or, The Old Man and the Devils.\" In the story published by\nKobunsha, Tokio, the Old Man has a lump on the side of his face. He sees\nthe demons dancing, and getting exhilarated, joins in. Thereupon the\ndevils are so delighted that they wish to see him again, and as a pledge\nof his return take away from him his lump. Another old man, who has a\nsimilar lump on the other side of his face, hearing of this, tries the\nsame plan, but dances so badly that the devils, not wishing to see him\nagain, and mistaking him for the other old man, give him back the lump,\nso that he has one on each side of his face.\n\nI may add here that Mr. York Powell informs me that No. xvii. of the\nsame series, entitled, \"Shippietaro,\" contains a parallel to the\n\"Hobyahs\" of _More English Tales_.\n\n_Remarks._--Here we have a problem of diffusion presented in its widest\nform. There can be little doubt that \"The Legend of Knockgrafton\" and\n\"Kobutori,\" one collected in Ireland and to be traced there for the last\n200 years, and the other collected at the present day in Japan, are one\nand the same story, and it is impossible to imagine they were\nindependently produced. Considering that Parnell could not have come\nacross the Japanese version, we must conclude that \"Kobutori\" is a\nrecent importation into Japan. On the other hand, as \"the Hobyahs\"\ncannot be traced in England, and was collected from a Scottish family\nsettled in the United States, where Japanese influence has been\nconsiderable, it is possible that this tale was derived from Japan\nwithin the memory of men still living. It would be highly desirable to\ntest these two cases, in which we seem to be able to observe the process\nof the diffusion of Folk Tales going on before our eyes.\n\n\nXLI. ELIDORE.\n\n_Source._--Giraldus Cambrensis, _Itinerarium Cambriae_, I. viii. I have\nfollowed the Latin text tolerably closely.\n\n_Parallels._--Mr. Hartland has a paper on \"Robberies in Fairyland,\" in\n_Arch. Rev._, iii. 39 _seq._ Davies, _Mythology of the British Druids_,\np. 155, tells a story of a door in a rock near a cave in the mountains\nof Brecknock, which was left open for Mayday, and men used to enter, and\nso reach that fairy island in the middle of the lake. The visitors were\ntreated very hospitably by their fairy hosts, but on the condition that\nthey might eat all, but pocket none; for once, a visitor took away with\nhim a fairy flower, and as soon as he got outside the door the flower\nvanished, and the door was never more opened. \"The Luck of Edenhall,\"\nstill in existence, is supposed to be a trophy brought back from a\nsimilar visit.\n\n_Remarks._--Mr. Hartland suggests that these legends, and the relics\nconnected with them, are in some way connected with the heathen rites\nprevalent in these islands before the introduction of Christianity,\nwhich may have lingered on into historic times. The absence of sunlight\nin this account of the House of the Fairies, as in \"Childe Rowland\" (on\nwhich see note in _English Fairy Tales_), may be regarded as a point in\nfavour of Mr. MacRitchie's theories as to the identification of the\nfairies with the mound-dwellers. The object of the expectoration was to\nprevent Elidore's seeing his way back. Thus the fairies prevent the\nindiscretions of the human midwives they employ.\n\n\nXLII. THE LEECHING OF KAYN'S LEG.\n\n_Source._--MacInnes, _Folk-Tales from Argyleshire_, vii., combined with\nCampbell of Tiree's version.\n\n_Parallels._--The earliest version, from an Egerton MS. of the fifteenth\ncentury, has been printed by Mr. S. H. O'Grady in his _Silva Gadelica_,\nNo. 20, with an English version, pp. 332-42. Mr. Campbell of Tiree has\ngiven a short Gaelic version in the _Transactions of the Gaelic Society\nof Inverness_, 78-100. Campbell of Islay collected the fullest version\nof this celebrated story, which is to be found among his manuscript\nremains now in Edinburgh. Mr. Nutt has given his English abstract in\n_Folk-lore_, i. 373-7, in its original form. The story must have\ncontained twenty-four tales or episodes of stories, nineteen of which\nare preserved in J. F. Campbell's version. For parallels to the various\nincidents, see Mr. Nutt's notes on MacInnes, pp. 470-3. The tale is\nreferred to in MacNicol, _Remarks on Dr. Johnson's Journey to the\nHebrides_, 1779.\n\n_Remarks._--Nothing could give a more vivid idea of what might be called\nthe organisation of the art of story-telling among the Celts than this\nelaborate tale. Mr. Nutt is inclined to trace it, even in its present\nform, back to the twelfth or thirteenth century. It occurs in an MS. of\nthe fifteenth century in an obviously unoriginal form which shows that\nthe story-teller did not appreciate the significance of many features in\nthe folk-tale he was retelling, and yet it was orally collected by the\ngreat Campbell in 1871, in a version which runs to 142 folio pages.\nFormally, its interest consists in large measure in the curious\nframework in which the subsidiary stories are imbedded. This is not of\nthe elaborate kind introduced into Europe from the East by the Crusades,\nbut more _naive_, resembling rather, as Mr. Nutt points out to me, the\nloosely-knit narratives of Charles Lever in his earlier manner.\n\n\nXLIII. HOW FIN WENT TO THE KINGDOM OF THE BIG MEN.\n\n_Source._--J. G. Campbell, _The Fians_ (_Waifs and Strays_, No. iv.),\npp. 175-92.\n\n_Parallels._--_The Voyage to Brobdingnag_ will occur to many readers,\nand it is by no means impossible that, as Swift was once an Irish lad,\n_The Voyage_ may have been suggested by some such tale told him in his\ninfancy. It is not, however, a part of the earlier recorded Ossianic\ncycle, though over-sea giants occur as opponents of the heroes in that\nas well as in the earlier Ultonian cycle.\n\n\nXLIV. HOW CORMAC MAC ART WENT TO FAERY.\n\n_Source._--Kindly condensed by Mr. Alfred Nutt from an English version\nby Mr. S. H. O'Grady in _Ossianic Society's Publications_, vol. iii. The\noldest known version has been printed from fourteenth century MSS., by\nMr. Whitley Stokes, _Irische Texte_, iii. I. The story existed in some\nform in the early eleventh century, as it is cited in the epic catalogue\ncontained in the Book of Leinster.\n\n_Parallels._--Mr. Nutt in his _Studies on the Legend of the Holy Grail_,\np. 193, connects this visit of Cormac to the Otherworld with the\nbespelled Castle incident in the Grail Legend, and gives other instances\nof visits to the Brug of Manannan. Manannan Mac Lir is the Celtic\nsea-god.\n\n\nXLV. RIDERE OF RIDDLES.\n\n_Source._--Campbell, _West Highland Tales_, No. xxii. vol. ii. p. 36,\n_seq._ I have modified the end, which has a polygamous complexion.\n\n_Parallels._--Campbell points out that the story is in the main\nidentical with the Grimms' \"Raethsel,\" No. xxii. There the riddle is:\n\"One slew none, and yet slew twelve.\" MacDougall has the same story in\n_Waifs and Strays_, iii. pp. 76 _seq._\n\n_Remarks._--There can be no doubt that the Celtic and German Riddle\nStories are related genealogically. Which is of the earlier generation\nis, however, more difficult to determine. In favour of the Celtic is the\npolygamous framework; while on the other hand, it is difficult to guess\nhow the story could have got from the Highlands to Germany. The simpler\nform of the riddle in the German version might seem to argue greater\nantiquity.\n\n\nXLVI. THE TAIL.\n\n_Source._--Campbell, No. lvii.\n\n_Parallels._--Most story-tellers have some formula of this kind to\nconclude their narrations. Prof. Crane gives some examples in his\n_Italian Popular Tales_, pp. 155-7. The English have: \"I'll tell you a\nstory of Jack a Nory,\" and \"The Three Wise Men of Gotham\" who went to\nSea in a Bowl:\n\n \"If the bowl had been stronger,\n My song would have been longer.\"\n\n\n_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.\n_London and Edinburgh_\n\n\n\n\n_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._\n\n\n =ENGLISH FAIRY TALES.= Collected by JOSEPH JACOBS. Illustrated by\n J. D. Batten. Small demy 8vo, pp. xvi-253, 8 full-page and 60\n smaller Illustrations, fancy cloth, price 6s.\n\n This new and charmingly illustrated volume.--_Daily Telegraph_\n (Leader).\n\n As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages\n ranks second to none.--_Daily Graphic_ (with illustrations).\n\n A delight alike to the young people and their elders.--_Globe._\n\n Prettily and brightly adapted.--_Star._\n\n A most delightful volume of fairy tales.--_England._\n\n A number of charming English fairy tales.--_Speaker._\n\n Mr. Jacobs may be congratulated alike on the matter and form of\n his book.--_Manchester Guardian._\n\n A more desirable child's book ... has not been seen for many a\n day.--_Daily News_ (Leader).\n\n From first to last, almost without exception, these stories are\n delightful.--_Athenaeum._\n\n The most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents\n together, ever presented to children.--E. S. HARTLAND, in\n _Folk-Lore_.\n\n The whole collection is dramatic and humorous.... This delightful\n book....--MISS THACKERAY, in _Atalanta_ (with illustrations).\n\n A gift-book that will charm any child, and all older folk who have\n been fortunate enough to retain their taste for the old nursery\n stories.--_Literary World._\n\n A dainty and an interesting volume.--_Notes and Queries._\n\n If we were asked what present would make a child happiest at\n Christmastide we think we could with a clear conscience point to\n Mr. Jacobs' book.--_Gloucester Journal._\n\n The most delightful book of its kind that has come in our way for\n many a day.--_Oban Times._\n\n Brimful of pretty stories.... Retold in a truly delightful\n manner.--_North-Western Gazette._\n\n The tales are simply delightful. No amount of description can do\n them justice. The only way is to read the book through from cover\n to cover.--_Magazine and Book Review._\n\n The drawings by Mr. Batten ... are extremely clever, and are full\n of humour and imagination.--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n Several charming stories that may be claimed as new\n acquaintances.... Mr. Batten's illustrations are excellent.--_The\n World._\n\n The book is intended to correspond to \"Grimm's Fairy Tales,\" and\n it must be allowed that its pages fairly rival in interest those\n of the well-known repository of folk-lore.--_Sydney Morning\n Herald_ (N.S.W.).\n\n Nothing could be more fascinating; it is indeed two delicious\n books rolled into one.--_Review of Reviews_ (with illustrations).\n\n A really valuable and curious selection which will be welcomed by\n readers of all ages.... The illustrations by Mr. Batten are often\n clever and irresistibly humorous.--_Times._\n\n\n =CELTIC FAIRY TALES.= Edited by JOSEPH JACOBS, and Illustrated by\n J. D. Batten. Sm. demy 8vo, pp. xvi-267, with 8 full-page\n Illustrations and numerous Vignettes, Tail-pieces, Initials,\n &c. 6s.\n\n Mr. Joseph Jacobs' book of \"Celtic Fairy Tales\" is, like his last\n year's collection of \"English Fairy Tales,\" one of the best books\n of stories ever put together, whether for a young reader or an\n old.--_Scotsman._\n\n The volume is illustrated by Mr. John D. Batten, whose work merits\n the very highest praise. The humorous sketches are\n admirable.--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n Humour and seriousness are delightfully mingled in these tales\n from many sources.--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n An admirable selection of Celtic Fairy Tales, edited with\n considerable erudition. The illustrations are graceful and\n suggestive.--_Freeman's Journal._\n\n Delightful stories, exquisite illustrations by John D. Batten, and\n learned notes.--_Ariel._\n\n Mr. Batten's illustrations are quite charming. Neither Tenniel nor\n C. H. Bennett have done anything better.--_Bookseller._\n\n This is not the first volume of exquisite fairy tales which Mr.\n Jacobs has given the young ones.--_Newcastle Daily Chronicle._\n\n A stock of delightful little narratives gathered chiefly from the\n Celtic-speaking peasants of Ireland.--_Daily Telegraph._\n\n A charming volume, skilfully illustrated.--_Daily Chronicle._\n\n A perfectly lovely book. And oh! the wonderful pictures inside.\n Get this book if you can; it is capital, all through.--_Pall Mall\n Budget._\n\n\n =INDIAN FAIRY TALES.= Edited by JOSEPH JACOBS, and Illustrated by\n J. D. Batten. Sm. demy 8vo, pp. xvi-253, with 9 full-page and\n numerous Vignettes, Tail-pieces, Initials, &c.\n\n The book is good both for the schoolroom and the study.--_Daily\n News_ (Leader).\n\n Mr. Jacobs' ably edited \"Indian Fairy Tales\" is a bright example\n of almost all that a fairy-book should he.--_Daily Chronicle._\n\n If I were asked to select a child's library I should name these\n three volumes ['English,' 'Celtic,' and 'Indian Fairy Tales'],\n with Grimm, Hans Andersen, and one or two good volumes of\n poetry.--_Irish Daily Independent._\n\n We are absolutely sure (which we scarcely ever are) that this book\n is a most pleasing volume.--_Saturday Review._\n\n The form in which they are presented is admirable, and nothing\n could be better in their way than Mr. Batten's designs to\n illustrate them.--_North British Daily Mail._\n\n Mr. Jacobs brings home to us in a clear and intelligible manner\n the enormous influence which Indian Fairy Tales have had upon\n European literature of the kind.--_Gloucester Journal._\n\n Mr. Jacobs is a delightful companion into a land of enchantment,\n and his successive books are treasures.--_Notes and Queries._\n\n The present combination will be welcomed not alone by the little\n ones for whom it is specially combined, but also by children of\n larger growth and added years.--_Daily Telegraph._\n\n\n * * * * *\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nMinor punctuation errors have been corrected without comment and\ninclude missing or end of sentence comma and period errors and missing\nor misplaced quotation marks.\n\nCharacters in bold Gothic font, in the Celtic language, with a single\noverdot accent have been converted to their sound (ex. th, gh, dh,\nbh, fh).\n\nIn all references to the \"King of Moroco\", the center \"o\" was accented\nwith a macron (ex. Mor[=o]cos), which has been converted to a plain \"o\".\n\nIn the date reference of the final illustration the \"th\" in 19th was\nsuperscripted in the original text.\n\n\nSpelling Corrections:\n\np. 17, \"yon\" to \"you\" (a gentleman such as you)\np. 27, \"Pwyll\" to \"Powel\" (he returned to Powel)\np. 42, \"Tiernyon\" (2) to \"Teirnyon\" (21) (... said his wife unto\n Teirnyon) and (... said Teirnyon)\np. 120 \"daugher\" to \"daughter\" (59) (let my daughter go)\np. 125, \"hegoes\" to \"he goes\" (and down he goes to)\np. 134, \"Ill\" to \"I'll\" (I'll try that upon thee)\np. 138, \"daughers\" to \"daughters\" (69) (\"Oh,\" said the daughters)\np. 236, \"bo\" to \"book\" (Get this book if you can;)\n\n\nPrinter Error corrections:\n\np. 178, closed-up blank space in unindented sentences between\n(... Rome to Rome to-morrow.) and (Unless you deceive me ...),\nand removed extra opening quotation mark.\n\n\nWord Variations retained:\n\n\"bagpipes\" (1) and \"bag-pipes\" (1)\n\"lapdog\" (6) and \"lap-dog\" (3)\n\"MacDougal\" (1) and \"MacDougall\" (1) (re: Waifs and Strays)\n\"pishrogue\" (1) and \"pishtrogue\" (1) (A fairy spell to distort reality?)\n\"West Irish Folk-Tales\" (1) and \"West Irish Folk-tales\" (1)\n\"tablecloth\" (2) and \"table-cloth\" (2) (p. 208-9)\n\n\n\n\n\n
","title":"More Celtic Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":65331}