{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_43974/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_43974","id":"gutenberg_43974","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43974","summary":null,"tags":["Atlantic Coast (Ireland) -- Social life and customs","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- Ireland","Ireland -- Social life and customs","Nobel Prizes in Literature"],"text":"_By Lady Gregory_\n\n\n DRAMA\n\n Seven Short Plays\n Folk-History Plays, 2 vols.\n New Comedies\n The Image\n The Golden Apple\n Our Irish Theatre. A Chapter of Autobiography\n\n IRISH FOLK LORE AND LEGEND\n\n Visions and Beliefs, 2 vols.\n Cuchulain of Muirthemne\n Gods and Fighting Men\n Saints and Wonders\n Poets and Dreamers\n The Kiltartan Poetry Book\n\n[Illustration: Ballylee Castle\n\nFrom a sepia drawing by Robert Gregory]\n\n\n\n\n VISIONS AND BELIEFS IN\n THE WEST OF IRELAND\n COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY\n LADY GREGORY: WITH TWO ESSAYS\n AND NOTES BY W.B. YEATS\n\n\n \"_There's no doubt at all but that there's the same\n sort of things in other countries; but you hear\n more about them in these parts because the Irish\n do be more familiar in talking of them._\"\n\n\n\n\n _SECOND SERIES_\n\n\n\n\n\n G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS\n NEW YORK AND LONDON\n =The Knickerbocker Press=\n\n 1920\n\n\n\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1920\n\n BY\n\n LADY GREGORY\n\n =The Knickerbocker Press, New York=\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n I.--HERBS, CHARMS, AND WISE WOMEN 3\n\n II.--ASTRAY, AND TREASURE 29\n\n III.--BANSHEES AND WARNINGS 45\n\n IV.--IN THE WAY 65\n\n V.--THE FIGHTING OF THE FRIENDS 77\n\n VI.--THE UNQUIET DEAD 89\n\n VII.--APPEARANCES 111\n\n VIII.--BUTTER 189\n\n IX.--THE FOOL OF THE FORTH 195\n\n X.--FORTHS AND SHEOGUEY PLACES 205\n\n XI.--BLACKSMITHS 239\n\n XII.--MONSTERS AND SHEOGUEY BEASTS 245\n\n XIII.--FRIARS AND PRIEST CURES 281\n\n SWEDENBORG, MEDIUMS, AND THE DESOLATE PLACES 295\n\n NOTES 343\n\n\n\n\n I\n\n HERBS, CHARMS, AND WISE WOMEN\n\n\n\n\n I\n\n HERBS, CHARMS, AND WISE WOMEN\n\n\n_There is a saying in Irish, \"An old woman without learning, it is\nshe will be doing charms\"; and I have told in \"Poets and Dreamers\"\nof old Bridget Ruane who came and gave me my first knowledge of the\nhealing power of certain plants, some it seemed having a natural and\nsome a mysterious power. And I said that she had \"died last winter,\nand we may be sure that among the green herbs that cover her grave\nthere are some that are good for every bone in the body and that are\nvery good for a sore heart.\"_\n\n_As to the book she told me of that had come from the unseen and\nwas written in Irish, I think of Mrs. Sheridan's answer when I asked\nin what language the strange unearthly people she had been among had\ntalked: \"Irish of course--what else would they talk?\" And I remember\nalso that when Blake told Crabb Robinson of the intercourse he had had\nwith Voltaire and was asked in what tongue Voltaire spoke he said, \"To\nmy sensations it was English. It was like the touch of a musical key.\nHe touched it probably in French, but to my ear it became English.\"_\n\n\n_I was told by her:_\n\nThere is a Saint at the Oratory in London, but I don't know his name,\nand a girl heard of him in London, and he sent her back to Gort, and\nhe said, \"There's a woman there that will cure you,\" and she came to\nme, and I cured her in two days. And if you could find out the name\nof that Saint through the Press, he'd tell me his remedies, and all\nthe world would be cured. For I can't do all cures though there are\na great many I can do. I cured Pat Carty when the doctor couldn't do\nit, and a woman in Gort that was paralysed and her two sons that were\nstretched. For I can bring back the dead with the same herbs our Lord\nwas brought back with--the _slanlus_ and the _garblus_. But there are\nsome things I can't do. I can't help anyone that has got a stroke\nfrom the Queen or the Fool of the Forth.\n\nI know a woman that saw the Queen one time, and she said she looked\nlike any Christian. I never heard of any that saw the Fool but one\nwoman that was walking near Gort, and she called out, \"There's the\nFool of the Forth coming after me.\" So her friends that were with\nher called out though they could see nothing, and I suppose he went\naway at that for she got no harm. He was like a big strong man, and\nhalf-naked--that's all she said about him.\n\nIt was my brother got the knowledge of cures from a book that was\nthrown down before him on the road. What language was it written in?\nWhat language would it be but Irish. Maybe it was God gave it to him,\nand maybe it was the _other people_. He was a fine strong man, and\nhe weighed twenty-five stone--and he went to England, and then he\ncured all the world, so that the doctors had no way of living. So one\ntime he got on a ship to go to America, and the doctors had bad men\nengaged to shipwreck him out of the ship; he wasn't drowned but he\nwas broken to pieces on the rocks, and the book was lost along with\nhim. But he taught me a good deal out of it. So I know all herbs,\nand I do a good many cures, and I have brought a great many children\nhome, home to the world--and never lost one, or one of the women that\nbore them. I was never away myself, but I am a cousin of Saggarton,\nand his uncle was away for twenty-one years.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis is _dwareen_ (knapweed) and what you have to do with this is to\nput it down, with other herbs, and with a bit of threepenny sugar, and\nto boil it and to drink it for pains in the bones, and don't be afraid\nbut it will cure you. Sure the Lord put it in the world for curing.\n\nAnd this is _corn-corn_ (small aromatic tansy); it's very good for\nthe heart--boiled like the others.\n\nThis is _atair-talam_ (wild camomile), the father of all herbs--the\nfather of the ground. This is very hard to pull, and when you go for\nit, you must have a black-handled knife.\n\nAnd this is _camal-buide_ (loosestrife) that will keep all bad things\naway.\n\nThis is _cuineul-Muire_ (mullein), the blessed candle of our Lady.\n\nThis is _fearaban_ (water buttercup) and it's good for every bone of\nyour body.\n\nThis is _dub-cosac_ (lichen), that's good for the heart, very good\nfor a sore heart. Here are the _slanlus_ (plantain) and the _garblus_\n(dandelion) and these would cure the wide world, and it was these\nbrought our Lord from the Cross, after the ruffians that was with the\nJews did all the harm to Him. And not one could be got to pierce His\nheart till a dark man came and said, \"Give me the spear, and I'll\ndo it,\" and the blood that sprang out touched his eyes and they got\ntheir sight.\n\nAnd it was after that, His Mother and Mary and Joseph gathered their\nherbs and cured His wounds. These are the best of the herbs, but they\nare all good, and there isn't one among them but would cure seven\ndiseases. I'm all the days of my life gathering them, and I know them\nall, but it isn't easy to make them out. Sunday evening is the best\ntime to get them, and I was never interfered with. Seven \"Hail Marys\"\nI say when I'm gathering them, and I pray to our Lord and to St.\nJoseph and St. Colman. And there may be _some_ watching me, but they\nnever meddled with me at all.\n\n\n_Mrs. Quaid:_\n\nMonday is a good day for pulling herbs, or Tuesday, not Sunday. A\nSunday cure is no cure. The _cosac_ (lichen) is good for the heart,\nthere was Mineog in Gort, one time his heart was wore to a silk\nthread, and it cured him. The _slanugad_ (rib-grass) is very good,\nand it will take away lumps. You must go down when it's growing on\nthe scraws, and pull it with three pulls, and mind would the wind\nchange when you are pulling it or your head will be gone. Warm it on\nthe tongs when you bring it and put it on the lump. The _lus-mor_\n(mullein) is the only one that's good to bring back children that are\naway. But what's better than that is to save what's in the craw of a\ncock you'll kill on St. Martin's Eve and put it by and dry it, and\ngive it to the child that's away.\n\nThere's something in green flax I know, for my mother often told me\nabout one night she was spinning flax, before she was married and she\nwas up late. And a man of the faeries came in. She had no right to\nbe sitting up so late, they don't like that. And he told her to go\nto bed, for he wanted to kill her, and he couldn't touch her while\nshe was handling the flax. And every time he'd tell her to go to bed,\nshe'd give him some answer, and she'd go on pulling a thread of the\nflax, or mending a broken one, for she was wise, and she knew that at\nthe crowing of the cock he'd have to go. So at last the cock crowed,\nand he was gone, and she was safe then, for the cock is blessed.\n\n\n_Mrs. Ward:_\n\nAs to the _lus-mor_, whatever way the wind is blowing when you begin to\ncut it, if it changes while you're cutting it, you'll lose your mind.\nAnd if you're paid for cutting it, you can do it when you like, but if\nnot _they_ mightn't like it. I knew a woman was cutting it one time,\nand a voice, an enchanted voice, called out, \"Don't cut that if you're\nnot paid, or you'll be sorry.\" But if you put a bit of this with every\nother herb you drink, you'll live for ever. My grandmother used to put\na bit with everything she took, and she lived to be over a hundred.\n\n\n_An Old Man on the Beach:_\n\nI wouldn't give into those things, but I'll tell you what happened\nto a son of my own. He was as fine and as stout a boy as ever you\nsaw, and one day he was out with me, and a letter came and told of\nthe death of some one's child that was in America, and all the island\ngathered to hear it read. And all the people were pressing to each\nother there. And when we were coming home, he had a bit of a kippeen\nin his hand, and getting over a wall he fell, and some way the\nkippeen went in at his throat, where it had a sharp point and hurt\nthe palate of his mouth, and he got paralysed from the waist up.\n\nThere was a woman over in Spiddal, and my wife gave me no ease till I\nwent to her, and she gave me some herb for him. He got better after,\nand there's no man in the island stronger and stouter than what he is\nbut he never got back the use of his left hand, but the strength he\nhas in the other hand is equal to what another man would have in two.\nDid the woman in Spiddal say what gave him the touch? Oh well, she\nsaid all sorts of things. But I wouldn't like to meddle too much with\nsuch as her, for it's by witchcraft I believe it's done. There was a\nwoman of the same sort over in Roundstone, and I knew a man went to\nher about his wife, and first she said the sickness had nothing to\ndo with _her_ business, but he said he came too far to bring back an\nanswer like that. So she went into a little room, and he heard her\ncall on the name of all the devils. So he cried out that that was\nenough, and she came out then and made the sign of the Cross, but he\nwouldn't stop in it.\n\nBut a priest told me that there was a woman in France used to cure\nall the dumb that came to her, and that it was a great loss and a\ngreat pity when she died.\n\n\n_Mrs. Cloonan:_\n\nI knew some could cure with herbs; but it's not right for any one\nthat doesn't understand them to be meddling with them. There was a\nwoman I knew one time wanted a certain herb I knew for a cure for her\ndaughter, and the only place that herb was to be had was down in the\nbottom of a spring well. She was always asking me would I go and get\nit for her, but I took advice, and I was advised not to do it. So\nthen she went herself and she got it out, a very green herb it was,\nnot watercress, but it had a bunch of green leaves. And so soon as\nshe brought it into the house, she fell as if dead and there she lay\nfor two hours. And not long after that she died, but she cured the\ndaughter, and it's well I didn't go to gather the herb, or it's on me\nall the harm would have come.\n\nI used to be gathering an herb one time for the Bishop that lived at\nLoughmore, dandelion it was. There are two sorts, the white that has\nno harm in it, that's what I used to be gathering, and the red that\nhas a _pishogue_ in it, but I left that alone.\n\n\n_Old Heffernan:_\n\nThe best herb-doctor I ever knew was Conolly up at Ballyturn. He\nknew every herb that grew in the earth. It was said that he was away\nwith the faeries one time, and when I knew him he had the two thumbs\nturned in, and it was said that was the sign they left on him. I had\na lump on the thigh one time and my father went to him, and he gave\nhim an herb for it but he told him not to come into the house by the\ndoor the wind would be blowing in at. They thought it was the evil\nI had, that is given by _them_ by a touch, and that is why he said\nabout the wind, for if it was the evil, there would be a worm in it,\nand if it smelled the herb that was brought in at the door, it might\nchange to another place. I don't know what the herb was, but I would\nhave been dead if I had it on another hour, it burned so much, and I\nhad to get the lump lanced after, for it wasn't the evil I had.\n\nConolly cured many a one. Jack Hall that fell into a pot of water\nthey were after boiling potatoes in, and had the skin scalded off him\nand that Doctor Lynch could do nothing for, he cured.\n\nHe boiled down herbs with a bit of lard, and after that was rubbed on\nthree times, he was well.\n\nAnd Pat Cahel that was deaf, he cured with the _rib-mas-seala_, that\nherb in the potatoes that milk comes out of. His wife was against\nhim doing the cures, she thought that it would fall on herself. And\nanyway, she died before him. But Connor at Oldtown gave up doing\ncures, and his stock began to die, and he couldn't keep a pig, and\nall he had wasted away till he began to do them again; and his son\ndoes cures now, but I think it's more with charms than with herbs.\n\n\n_John Phelan:_\n\nThe _bainne-bo-bliatain_ (wood anemone) is good for the headache, if\nyou put the leaves of it on your head. But as for the _lus-mor_ it's\nbest not to have anything to do with that.\n\n\n_Mrs. West:_\n\nDandelion is good for the heart, and when Father Prendergast was curate\nhere, he had it rooted up in all the fields about, to drink it, and see\nwhat a fine man he is. _Garblus_; how did you hear of that? That is the\nherb for things that have to do with the faeries. And when you'd drink\nit for anything of that sort, if it doesn't cure you, it will kill you\nthen and there. There was a fine young man I used to know and he got\nhis death on the head of a pig that came at himself and another man at\nthe gate of Ramore, and that never left them, but was at them all the\ntime till they came to a stream of water. And when he got home, he took\nto his bed with a headache, and at last he was brought a drink of the\n_garblus_ and no sooner did he drink it than he was dead. I remember\nhim well. Biddy Early didn't use herbs, but let people say what they\nlike, she was a sure woman. There is something in flax, for no priest\nwould anoint you without a bit of tow. And if a woman that was carrying\nwas to put a basket of green flax on her back, the child would go from\nher, and if a mare that was in foal had a load of flax put on her, the\nfoal would go the same way.\n\n\n_Mrs. Allen:_\n\nI don't believe in faeries myself, I really don't. But all the people\nin Kildare believe in them, and I'll tell you what I saw there one\ntime myself. There was a man had a splendid big white horse, and he\nwas leading him along the road, and a woman, a next-door neighbour,\ngot up on the wall and looked at him. And the horse fell down on his\nknees and began to shiver, and you'd think buckets of water were\npoured over him. And they led him home, but he was fit for nothing,\nand everyone was sorry for the poor man, and him being worth ninety\npounds. And they sent to the Curragh and to every place for vets, but\nnot one could do anything at all. And at last they sent up in to the\nmountains for a faery doctor, and he went into the stable and shut\nthe door, and whatever he did there no one knows, but when he came\nout he said that the horse would get up on the ninth day, and be as\nwell as ever. And so he did sure enough, but whether he kept well, I\ndon't know, for the man that owned him sold him the first minute he\ncould. And they say that while the faery doctor was in the stable,\nthe woman came to ask what was he doing, and he called from inside,\n\"Keep her away, keep her away.\" And a priest had lodgings in the\nhouse at the same time, and when the faery doctor saw him coming,\n\"Let me out of this,\" says he, and away with him as fast as he could.\nAnd all this I saw happen, but whether the horse only got a chill or\nnot I don't know.\n\n\n_James Mangan:_\n\nMy mother learned cures from an Ulster woman, for the Ulster women\nare the best for cures; but I don't know the half of them, and what\nI know I wouldn't like to be talking about or doing, unless it might\nbe for my own family. There's a cure she had for the yellow jaundice;\nand it's a long way from Ennistymon to Creevagh, but I saw a man come\nall that way to her, and he fainted when he sat down in the chair,\nhe was so far gone. But she gave him a drink of it, and he came in a\nsecond time and she gave it again, and he didn't come a third time\nfor he didn't want it. But I don't mind if I tell you the cure and it\nis this: take a bit of the dirt of a dog that has been eating bones\nand meat, and put it on top of an oven till it's as fine as powder\nand as white as flour, and then pound it up, and put it in a glass of\nwhiskey, in a bottle, and if a man is not too far gone with jaundice,\nthat will cure him.\n\nThere was one Carthy at Imlough did great cures with charms and his\nson can do them yet. He uses no herbs, but he'll go down on his knees\nand he'll say some words into a bit of unsalted butter, and what\nwords he says, no one knows. There was a big man I know had a sore\non his leg and the doctor couldn't cure him, and Doctor Moran said\na bit of the bone would have to come out. So at last he went to Jim\nCarthy and he told him to bring him a bit of unsalted butter the next\nMonday, or Thursday, or Saturday, for there's a difference in days.\nAnd he would have to come three times, or if it was a bad case, he'd\nhave to come nine times.\n\nBut I think it was after the third time that he got well, and now he\nis one of the head men in Persse's Distillery in Galway.\n\n\n_A Slieve Echtge Woman:_\n\nThe wild parsnip is good for gravel, and for heartbeat there's nothing\nso good as dandelion. There was a woman I knew used to boil it down,\nand she'd throw out what was left on the grass. And there was a fleet\nof turkeys about the house and they used to be picking it up. And at\nChristmas they killed one of them, and when it was cut open they found\na new heart growing in it with the dint of the dandelion.\n\nMy father went one time to a woman at Ennis, not Biddy Early, but one\nof her sort, to ask her about three sheep he had lost.\n\nAnd she told him the very place they were brought to, a long path\nthrough the stones near Kinvara. And there he found the skins, and he\nheard that the man that brought them away had them sold to a butcher in\nLoughrea. So he followed him there, and brought the police, and they\nfound him--a poor looking little man, but he had \u00a360 within in his box.\n\nThere was another man up near Ballylee could tell these things too.\nWhen Jack Fahy lost his wool, he went to him, and next morning there\nwere the fleeces at his door.\n\nThose that are _away_ know these things. There was a brother of my\nown took to it for seven years--and we at school. And no one could\nbeat him at the hurling and the games. But I wouldn't like to be\nmixed with that myself.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was one Moyra Colum was a great one for doing cures. She was\ncalled one time to see some sick person, and the man that came for\nher put her up behind him, on the horse. And some youngsters began\nto be humbugging him, and humbugging is always bad. And there was a\nyoung horse in the field where the youngsters were and it began to\ngallop, and it fell over a stump and lay on the ground kicking as if\nin a fit. And then Moyra Colum said, \"Let me get down, for I have\npity for the horse.\" And she got down and went into the field, and\nshe picked a blade of a herb and put it to the horse's mouth and in\none minute it got up well.\n\nAnother time a woman had a sick cow and she sent her little boy to\nMoyra Colum, and she gave him a bottle, and bade him put a drop of\nwhat was in it in the cow's ear. And so he did and in a few minutes\nhe began to feel a great pain in his foot. So when the mother saw\nthat, she took the bottle and threw it out into the street and broke\nit, and she said, \"It's better to lose the cow than to lose my son.\"\nAnd in the morning the cow was dead.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe herbs they cure with, there's some that's natural, and you could\npick them at all times of the day; there's a very good cure for\nthe yellow jaundice I have myself, and I offered it to a woman in\nBallygrah the other day, but some people are so taken up with pride\nand with conceit they won't believe that to cure that sickness you\nmust take what comes from your own nature. She's dead since of it,\nI hear. But I'll tell you the cure, the way you'll know it. If you\nare attending a funeral, pick out a few little worms from the earth\nthat's thrown up out of the grave, few or many, twenty or thirty if\nyou like. And when you go home, boil them down in a sup of new milk\nand let it get cold; and believe me, that will cure the sickness.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's one woman I knew used to take a bit of tape when you'd go to\nher, and she'd measure it over her thumb like this; and when she had\nit measured she'd know what was the matter with you.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFor some sicknesses they use herbs that have no natural cure, and\nthose must be gathered in the morning early. Before twelve o'clock?\nNo, but before sunrise. And there's a different charm to be said over\neach one of them. It is for any sort of pain these are good, such as\na pain in the side. There's the _meena madar_, a nice little planteen\nwith a nice little blue flowereen above on it, that's used for a\nrunning sore or an evil. And the charm to be said when you're picking\nit has in it the name of some old curer or magician, and you can say\nthat into a bit of tow three times, and put it on the person to be\ncured. That is a good charm. You might use that yourself if it was\nany one close to you was sick, but for a stranger I'd recommend you\nnot do it. _They_ know all things and who are using it, and where's\nthe use of putting yourself in danger?\n\n\n_James Mangan:_\n\nMy mother learned to do a great many cures from a woman from the\nNorth (Note 1) and some I could do myself, but I wouldn't like to be\ndoing them unless for those that are nearest me; I don't want to be\nputting myself in danger.\n\nFor a swelling in the throat it's an herb would be used, or for the\nevil a poultice you'd make of herbs. But for a pain in the ribs or in\nthe head, it's a charm you should use, and to whisper it into a bit\nof tow, and to put it on the mouth of whoever would have the pain,\nand that would take it away. There's a herb called _rif_ in your own\ngarden is good for cures. And this is a good charm to say in Irish:\n\n A quiet woman.\n A rough man.\n The Son of God.\n The husk of the flax.\n\n\n_The Old Man on the Beach:_\n\nIn the old times all could do _druith_--like free-masonry--and the\nground was all covered with the likeness of the devil; and with\n_druith_ they could do anything, and could put the sea between you\nand the road. There's only a few can do it now, but all that live in\nthe County Down can do it.\n\n\n_Mrs. Quaid:_\n\nThere was a girl in a house near this was pining away, and a travelling\nwoman came to the house and she told the mother to bring the girl\nacross to the graveyard that's near the house before sunrise and to\npick some of the grass that's growing over the remains. And so she did,\nand the girl got well. But the mother told me that when the woman had\ntold her that, she vanished away, all in a minute, and was seen no more.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI have a charm myself for the headache, I cured many with it. I used to\nput on a ribbon from the back of the head over the mouth, and another\nfrom the top of the head under the chin and then to press my hand on\nit, and I'd give them great relief and I'd say the charm. But one time\nI read in the Scriptures that the use of charms is forbidden, so I had\nit on my conscience, and the next time I went to confession I asked\nthe priest was it any harm for me to use it, and I said it to him in\nIrish. And in English it means \"Charm of St. Peter, Charm of St. Paul,\nan angel brought it from Rome. The similitude of Christ, suffering\ndeath, and all suffering goes with Him and into the flax.\" And the\npriest didn't say if I might use it or not, so I went on with it, for\nI didn't like to turn away so many suffering people coming to me.\n\nI know a charm a woman from the North gave to Tom Mangan's mother,\nshe used to cure ulcers with it and cancers. It was with unsalted\nbutter it was used, but I don't know what the words were.\n\n\n_John Phelan:_\n\nIf you cut a hazel rod and bring it with you, and turn it round about\nnow and again, no bad thing can hurt you. And a cure can be made for\nbad eyes from the ivy that grows on a white-thorn bush. I know a boy\nhad an ulcer on his eye and it was cured by that.\n\n\n_Mrs. Creevy:_\n\nThere was Leary's son in Gort had bad eyes and no doctor could cure\nhim. And one night his mother had a dream that she got up and took\na half-blanket with her, and went away to a blessed well a little\noutside Gort, and there she saw a woman dressed all in white, and she\ngave her some of the water, and when she brought it to her son he got\nwell. So the next day she went there and got the water, and after\nputting it three times on his eyes, he was as well as ever he was.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman here used to do cures with herbs--a midwife she\nwas. And if a man went for her in a hurry, and on a horse, and he'd\nwant her to get up behind him, she'd say, \"No,\" that she was never\non horseback. But no matter how fast he'd go home, there she'd be\nclose after him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a child was sick and it was known itself wasn't in it. And\na woman told the mother to go to a woman she told her of, and not to\nsay anything about the child but to say, \"The calf is sick\" and to\nask for a cure for it. So she did and the woman gave her some herb,\nand she gave it to the child and it got well.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man from Cuillean was telling me how two women came from\nthe County Down in his father's time, mother and daughter, and they\nbrought two spinning wheels with them, and they used to be in the\nhouse spinning. But the milk went from the cow and they watched and\nsaw it was through charms. And then all the people brought turf and\nmade a big fire outside, and stripped the witch and the daughter to\nburn them. And when they were brought out to be burned the woman\nsaid, \"Bring me out a bit of flax and I'll show you a pishogue.\" So\nthey brought out a bit of flax and she made two skeins of it, and\ntwisted it some way like that (interlacing his fingers) and she put\nthe two skeins round herself and the daughter, and began to twist it,\nand it went up in the air round and round and the two women with it,\nand the people all saw them going up, but they couldn't stop them.\nThe man's own father saw that himself.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman from the County Down was living up on that mountain\nbeyond one time, and there was a boy in the house next to mine that\nhad a pain in his heart, and was crying out with the pain of it. And\nshe came down, and I was in the house myself and I saw her fill the\nbowl with oatenmeal, and she tied a cloth over it, and put it on the\nhearth. And when she took it off, all the meal was gone out of one\nside of the bowl, and she made a cake out of what was left on the\nother side, and ate it. And the boy got well.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman in Clifden did many cures and knew everything. And\nI knew two boys were sent to her one time, and they had a bottle of\npoteen to bring her, but on the road they drank the poteen. But they\ngot her another bottle before they got to the house, but for all that\nshe knew well, and told them what they had done.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's some families have a charm in them, and a man of those\nfamilies can do cures, just like King's blood used to cure the evil,\nbut they couldn't teach it to you or to me or another.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's a very good charm to stop bleeding; it will stop it in a\nminute when nothing else can, and there's one to take bones from the\nneck, and one against ulcers.\n\n\n_Kevin Ralph:_\n\nI went to Macklin near Loughrea myself one time, when I had an ulcer\nhere in my neck. But when I got to him and asked for the charm, he\nanswered me in Irish, \"The Soggarth said to me, any man that will use\ncharms to do cures with will be damned.\" I persuaded him to do it\nafter, but I never felt that it did me much good. Because he took no\ncare to do it well after the priest saying that of him. But there's\nsome will only let it be said in an outhouse if there's a cure to be\ndone in the house.\n\n\n_A Woman in County Limerick:_\n\nIt is twenty year ago I got a pain in my side, that I could not\nstoop; and I tried Siegel's Syrup and a plaster and a black blister\nfrom the doctor, and every sort of thing and they did me no good.\nAnd there came in a man one day, a farmer I knew, and he said, \"It's\na fool you are not to go to a woman living within two miles of you\nthat would cure you--a woman that does charms.\" So I went to her nine\ntimes, three days I should go and three stop away, and she would\npass her hand over me, and would make me hold on to the branch of\nan apple tree up high, that I would hang from it, and she would be\nswinging me as you would swing a child. And she laid me on the grass\nand passed her hands over me, and what she said over me I don't know.\nAnd at the end of the nine visits I was cured, and the pain left me.\nAt the time she died I wanted to go lay her out but my husband would\nnot let me go. He said if I was seen going in, the neighbours would\nsay she had left me her cures and would be calling me a witch. She\nsaid it was from an old man she got the charm that used to be called\na wizard. My father knew him, and said he could bring away the wheat\nand bring it back again, and that he could turn the four winds of\nheaven to blow upon your house till they would knock it.\n\n\n_A Munster Midwife:_\n\nIs it true a part of the pain can be put on the man? It is to be sure,\nbut it would be the most pity in the world to do it; it is a thing I\nnever did, for the man would never be the better of it, and it would\nnot take any of the pain off the woman. And shouldn't we have pity upon\nmen, that have enough troubles of their own to go through?\n\n\n_Mrs. Hollaran:_\n\nDid I know the pain could be put on a man? Sure I seen my own mother\nthat was a midwife do it. He was such a Molly of an old man, and he\nhad no compassion at all on his wife. He was as if making out she had\nno pain at all. So my mother gave her a drink, and with that he was\non the floor and around the floor crying and roaring. \"The devil take\nyou,\" says he, and the pain upon him; but while he had it, it went\naway from his wife. It did him no harm after, and my mother would\nnot have done it but for him being so covetous. He wanted to make out\nthat she wasn't sick.\n\n\n_Mrs. Stephens:_\n\nAt childbirth there are some of the old women are able to put a part\nof the pain upon the man, or any man. There was a woman in labour\nnear Oran, and there were two policemen out walking that night, and\none of them went into the house to light his pipe. There were two\nor three women in it, and the sick woman stretched beyond them, and\none of them offered him a drink of the tea she had been using, and\nhe didn't want it but he took a drink of it, and then he took a coal\noff the hearth and put it on his pipe to light it and went out to\nhis comrade. And no sooner was he there than he began to roar and to\ncatch hold of his belly and he fell down by the roadside roaring. But\nthe other knew something of what happened, and he took the pipe, and\nit having a coal on it, and he put it on top of the wall and fired a\nshot of the gun at it and broke it; and with that the man got well of\nthe pain and stood up again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNo woman that is carrying should go to the house where another woman\nis in labour; if she does, that woman's pain will come on her along\nwith her own pain when her time comes.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA child to come with the spring tide, it will have luck.\n\n\n\n\n II\n\n ASTRAY, AND TREASURE\n\n\n\n\n II\n\n ASTRAY, AND TREASURE\n\n\n_Mr. Yeats in his dedication of \"The Shadowy Waters\" says of some of\nour woods:_\n\n \"_Dim Pairc-na-tarav where enchanted eyes\n Have seen immortal mild proud shadows walk;\n Dim Inchy wood that hides badger and fox\n And martin-cat, and borders that old wood\n Wise Biddy Early called the wicked wood._\"\n\n_I have heard many stories of people led astray in these by invisible\npower, though I myself, although born at midnight, have lived many\nhours of many years in their shades and shelters, and as the saying\nis have \"never seen anything worse than myself.\"_\n\n_Last May a friend staying with us had gone out early in the\nafternoon, and had not come back by eight o'clock dinner-time. As\nhalf-hours passed we grew anxious and sent out messengers riding and\non foot, searching with lanterns here and there in the woods and on\nInchy marsh, towards which he had been seen going. It was not till\nlong after the fall of darkness that he returned, tired out with so\nmany hours of wandering, and with no better explanation than \"Yeats\ntalks of the seven woods of Coole, but I say there are seventy times\nseven.\" It was in dim Inchy and the wicked wood it borders he had\ngone astray; and many said that was natural, for they have a bad\nname, and May is a month of danger. Yet some unbelievers may carry\ntheir credulity so far as to believe that the creator of Father\nKeegan's dreams may himself have dreamed the whole adventure._\n\n\n_I was told by An Army Man who had been through the Indian Mutiny:_\n\nIt's only yesterday I was talking to a man about _the others_, and he\ntold me that the castle of Ballinamantane is a great place for them,\nfor it's there a great stand was made long ago in one of their last\nfights. And one night he was making his way home, and only a field\nbetween him and his house, when he found himself turned around and\nbrought to another field, and then to another--seven in all. And he\nremembered the saying that you should turn your coat and that they'd\nhave no power over you, and he did so, but it did him no good. For\nafter that he was taken again, and found himself in the field over\nbeyond. And he had never a one drop taken, but was quite sober that\nnight.\n\nWhat did they do it for? It might be that he had trespassed on one of\ntheir ways; but it's most likely that there was some sort of a rogue\namong them that turned and did it for sport.\n\n\n_Mrs. Cloonan:_\n\nThe other evening I was milking the cow over in Inchy, and a\nbeggar-woman came by, with a sack of potatoes and such things on her\nback. She makes her living selling ballads in Gort, and then begging\nafterwards. So she sat down beside me, and she said \"I don't like to\ngo on through the wood.\" So I asked did she ever see anything there.\n\"I did,\" says she, \"three years ago, one night just where the old\nhouse is the Dooleys used to live in. There came out of the end of it\na woman all in white, and she led me astray all the night, and drove\nme that I had no time to turn my clothes--and my feet were black with\nthe blows she gave me, and though it was three years ago, I feel the\npain in them yet.\"\n\n\n_Mrs. Coniffe_ says:\n\nI was in Inchy the other day late, and I met an old beggarman, and\nI asked him was he ever led astray there. And he said, \"Not in this\nwood, but in the wood beyond, Garryland. It was one night I was\npassing through it, and met a great lot of them--laughing they were\nand running about and drinking wine and wanting me to drink with\nthem. And they had cars with them, and an old woman sitting on a sort\nof an ass-car. And I had a scapular round my neck, and I thought that\nwould make me independent, but it did not, for it was on the highroad\noutside I found myself put at last.\"\n\n\n_A Mason:_\n\nMy father was led astray one time, when he was coming home from a\nneighbour's house, and he was led here and there till he didn't know\nwhat way he was going. And then the moon began to shine out and he\nsaw his shadow, and another shadow along with it ten feet in length.\nSo with that he ran, and when he got to the wood of Cloon he fell\ndown in a faint.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd I was led astray one night, going across to a neighbour's\nhouse--just the length of a field away, and where I could find my way\nblindfolded. Into the ditch I was led, and to some other field, and I\nput my hand to the ground, and it was potato ground, and the drills\nmade, but the seed not put in. And if it wasn't at last that I saw a\nlight from Scalp, it's away I'd have been brought altogether.\n\n\n_John Rivers:_\n\nOnce I was led astray in that field and went round and round and\ncould find no way out--till at last I thought of the old Irish\nfashion of turning my waistcoat, and did so. And then I got out the\ngate in one minute.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd one night I was down at the widow Hayley's--I didn't go much\nthere--she used to have the place full of loafers, and they playing\ncards. But this night I stopped a bit, and then I went out. And the\nway I was put I could not say, but I found myself in the field with\nan eight-foot wall behind me--and there I had to stop till some of\nthe men came and found me and brought me out.\n\n\n_A Girl of the Feeneys:_\n\nOne time my brother when he was coming home late one evening was\nput asleep in spite of himself, on the grass, at this corner\nwe're passing. None of the boys like to be coming home late, from\ncard-playing or the like, unless there's two or three of them\ntogether. And if they go to a wake, they wouldn't for all the world\ncome home before the cock crows. There were many led astray in that\nhollow beyond, where you see the haycocks. Old Tom Stafford was led\nastray there by something like a flock of wool that went rolling\nbefore him, and he had no power to turn but should follow it. Michael\nBarrett saw the coach one time driving across Kiltartan bog, and it\nwas seen to many others besides.\n\nAs to Michael Barrett, I believe it's mostly in his own head they\nare. But I know this that when he pulled down the chimney where he\nsaid that the piper used to be sitting and playing, he lifted out\nstones, and he an old man, that I could not have lifted myself when I\nwas young and healthy.\n\n\n_A Clare Woman:_\n\nAs to treasure, there was a man here dreamt of some buried things--of\na skeleton and a crock of money. So he went to dig, but whether he\ndreamed wrong or that he didn't wait for the third dream, I don't\nknow, but he found the skeleton, skull and all, but when he found\nthe crock there was nothing in it, but very large snail-shells. So\nhe threw them out in the grass, and next day when he went to look\nat them they were all gone. Surely there's something that's watching\nover that treasure under ground.\n\nBut it doesn't do to be always looking for money. There was Whaney the\nmiller, he was always wishing to dream of money like other people. And\nso he did one night, that it was hid under the millstone. So before it\nwas hardly light he went and began to dig and dig, but he never found\nthe money, but he dug till the mill fell down on himself.\n\nSo when any one is covetous the old people say, \"Take care would you\nbe like Whaney the miller.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow I'll tell you a story that's all truth. There was a farmer man\nliving there beyond over the mountains, and one day a strange man\ncame in and asked a night's lodging. \"Where do you come from?\" says\nthe farmer. \"From the county Mayo,\" says he, and he told how he had a\ndream of a bush in this part of the world, and gave a description of\nit, and in his dream he saw treasure buried under it. \"Then go home,\nmy poor man,\" said the farmer, \"for there's no such place as that\nabout here.\" So the man went back again to Mayo. But the bush was all\nthe time just at the back of the house, and when the stranger was\ngone, the farmer began to dig, and there, sure enough, he found the\npot of gold, and took it for his own use.\n\nBut all the children he had turned silly after that; there was one\nof them not long ago going about the town with long hair over his\nshoulders.\n\nAnd after that, a poor scholar, such as used to be going about in\nthose times, came to the house, and when he had sat down, the lid of\nthe pot the gold was found in was lying by the fire. And he took it\nup and rubbed it, and there was writing on it, in Irish, that no one\nhad ever been able to read. And the poor scholar made it out, \"This\nside of the bush is no better than the other side.\" So he went out to\ndig, and there he found another pot on the other side just the same\nas the first pot and he brought it away with him, and what became of\nhim after is unknown.\n\n\n_John Phelan:_\n\nThere was a man in Gort, Anthony Hynes, he and two others dreamed of\nfinding treasure within the church of Kilmacduagh. But when they got\nthere at night to dig, something kept them back, for there's always\nsomething watching over where treasure is buried. I often heard\nthat long ago in the nursery at Coole, at the cross, a man that was\ndigging found a pot of gold. But just as he had the cover took off,\nhe saw old Richard Gregory coming, and he covered it up, and was\nnever able again to find the spot where it was.\n\nBut there's dreams and dreams. I heard of a man from Mayo went to\nLimerick, and walked two or three times across the bridge there. And\na cobbler that was sitting on the bridge took notice of him, and\nknew by the look of him and by the clothes he wore that he was from\nMayo, and asked him what was he looking for. And he said he had a\ndream that under the bridge of Limerick he'd find treasure. \"Well,\"\nsays the cobbler, \"I had a dream myself about finding treasure, but\nin another sort of a place than this.\" And he described the place\nwhere he dreamed it was, and where was that, but in the Mayo man's\nown garden. So he went home again, and sure enough, there he found a\npot of gold with no end of riches in it. But I never heard that the\ncobbler found anything under the bridge at Limerick.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI met a woman coming out one day from Cloon, and she told me that\nwhen she was a young girl, she went out one day with another girl to\npick up sticks near a wood. And she chanced to lay hold on a tuft\nof grass, and it came up in her hand and the sod with it. And there\nwas a hole underneath full of half-crowns, and she began to fill her\napron with them, and as soon as she had the full of her apron she\ncalled to the other girl, and the minute she came there wasn't one to\nbe seen. But what she had in her apron she kept.\n\n\n_A Travelling Man:_\n\nThere was a sister of mine, Bridget her name was, dreamed three\nnights of treasure that was buried under the bush up there, by\nthe chapel, a mile to the east; you can see the bush there, blown\nslantwise by the wind from the sea. So she got three men to go along\nwith her and they brought shovels to dig for it. But it was the woman\nshould have lifted the first sod and she didn't do it, and they saw,\ncoming down from the mountains of Burren, horses and horses, bearing\nhorse-soldiers on them, and they came around the bush, and the\nsoldiers held up their shovels, and my sister and the men that were\nwith her made away across the field.\n\nThe time I was in America, I went out to the country to see Tom\nScanlon, my cousin, that is a farmer there and had any amount of land\nand feeding for the cows, and we went out of the house and sat down\non a patch of grass the same as we're sitting on now. And the first\nword he said to me was, \"Did Bridget, your sister, ever tell you of\nthe dream she had, and the way we went digging at the bush, for I was\none of the men that was along with her?\" \"She did often,\" says I.\n\"Well,\" says he, \"all she told you about it was true.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere were two boys digging for razor fish near Clarenbridge, and\none of them saw, as he was digging, a great lot of gold. So he said\nnothing, the way the other boy would know nothing about it. But when\nhe came back for it it was gone.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was another boy found gold under a flagstone he lifted. But\nwhen he went back next day to get it, all the strength he had\nwouldn't lift the flag.\n\n\n_The Army Man:_\n\nThere was a forth sometime or other there inside the gate, and one\nKelly told me that he was coming by it one night and saw all the hollow\nspread with gold, and he had not the sense to take it up, but ran away.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA friend I had near Athenry had more sense. He saw the ground spread\nwith gold and he took up the full of his pockets and paid his rent next\nday and prospered ever after, as everyone does that gets the faery gold.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnother man I knew of had a dream of a place where there was three\ncrocks of gold. And in the morning he went to dig and found the\ncrocks sure enough, and nothing in them but oyster shells. That was\nbecause he went to dig after the first dream. He had a right to wait\ntill he had dreamed of it three times.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA girl the same way dreamt of gold hid in a rock and did not wait for\nthe third dream, but went at once, and all she found was the full of an\nass-cart near of sewing needles, and that was a queer thing to find in\na rock. No, they don't always hinder you, they help you now and again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a working man used to be digging potatoes for me, and\nwhenever he was in want of money, he found it laid on his window-sill\nin the night. But one day he had a drop of drink taken, he told\nabout it, and never a penny more did he find after that.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSure, there's an old castle beyond Gort, Fiddane it's called, and\nthere you'd see the gold out bleaching, but no one would like to go\nand take it. And my mother told me one time that a woman went up in\nthe field beyond where the liss is, to milk the cow, and there she\nsaw on the grass a crock full of gold. So she left the bit she had\nfor holding the cow beside it, and she ran back to the house for to\ntell them all to come out and see it. But when they came the gold was\nnowhere to be seen, but had vanished away. But in every part of the\nfield there was a bit of rope like the one she left beside the crock,\nso that she couldn't know what spot it was in at all.\n\nShe had a right to have taken it, and told no one. They don't like to\nhave such things told.\n\n\n_Mrs. Coniffe:_\n\nThat bush you took notice of, the boy told me that it is St.\nBridget's bush, and there is a great lot of money buried under it;\nthey know this from an old woman that used to be here a long time\nago. Three men went one time to dig for it and they dug and dug all\nthe day and found nothing and they went home and to bed. And in the\nnight whatever it was came to them, they never got the better of\nit, but died within a week. And you'd be sorry to see--as the boy\ndid--the three coffins carried out of the three houses. And since\nthen no other person has ever gone to look for the money.\n\nThat's no wonder for you to know a faery bush. It grows a different\nshape from a common one, and looks different someway.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to hidden gold, I knew a man, Patrick Connell, dreamed he found it\nbeneath a bush. But he wasn't willing to go look for it, and his sons\nand his friends were always at him to tell where it was, but he would\ntell them nothing. But at last his sons one day persuaded him to go\nwith them and to dig for it. So they took their car, and they set\nout. But when they came to a part of the road where there's a small\nlittle ditch about a foot wide beside it, he was walking and he put\nhis foot in it and they had to bring him home, for his leg was broke.\nSo there was no more digging for treasure after that.\n\n\n_A Neighbour:_\n\nThere's crocks of gold in all the forths, but there's cats and things\nguarding them. And if any one does find the gold, he doesn't live\nlong afterwards. But sometimes you might see it and think that it was\nonly a heap of dung. It's best to leave such things alone.\n\n\n\n\n III\n\n BANSHEES AND WARNINGS\n\n\n\n\n III\n\n BANSHEES AND WARNINGS\n\n\n\"_Then Cuchulain went on his way, and Cathbad that had followed him\nwent with him. And presently they came to a ford, and there they\nsaw a young girl, thin and white-skinned and having yellow hair,\nwashing and ever washing, and wringing out clothing that was stained\ncrimson red, and she crying and keening all the time. 'Little Hound,'\nsaid Cathbad, 'Do you see what it is that young girl is doing?\nIt is your red clothes she is washing, and crying as she washes,\nbecause she knows you are going to your death against Maeve's great\narmy.'_\"--\"Cuchulain of Muirthemne.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\n_From Cuchulain's day, or it may be from a yet earlier time, that\nkeening woman of the Sidhe has been heard giving her lamentable\nwarning for those who are about to die. Rachel had not yet been heard\nmourning for her children when the white-skinned girl whose keening\nhas never ceased in Ireland washed red clothes at the ford. It was\nshe or one of her race who told King Brian he was going to meet his\ndeath at Clontarf; though after the defeat of the old gods that\nwarning had often been sent by a more radiant messenger, as when\nColumcille at the dawn of the feast of Pentecost \"lifted his eyes and\nsaw a great brightness and an angel of God waiting there above him.\"\nAnd Patrick himself had his warning through his angel, Victor, who\nmet him on the road at midday and bade him go back to the barn where\nhe had lodged the night before, for it was there he had to die. Such\na messenger may have been at hand at the death of that Irish born\nmystic, William Blake, when he \"burst out into singing of the things\nhe saw in Heaven, and made the rafters ring.\" And a few years ago\nthe woman of a thatched house at the foot of Echtge told me \"There\nwere great wonders done in the old times; and when my father that\nworked in the garden there above was dying, there came of a sudden\nthree flashes of light into the room, the brightest light that ever\nwas seen in the world; and there was an old man in the room, one\nRuane, and I leaned back on him for I had like to faint. And people\ncoming the road saw the light, and up at Mick Inerney's house they\nall called out that our house was in flames. And when they came and\nheard of the three flashes of light coming into the room and about\nthe bed they all said it was the angels that were his friends that\nhad come to meet him.\" When Raftery died, the blind poet who wandered\nthrough our townlands a hundred years ago, some say there were flames\nabout the house all through the night, \"and those were the angels\nwaking him.\" Yet his warning had not been sent through these white\nmessengers but through a vision that had come to him once in Galway,\nwhen Death himself had appeared \"thin, miserable, sad and sorrowful;\nthe shadow of night upon his face, the tracks of the tears down his\ncheeks\" and had told him he had but seven years to live. And though\nRaftery spoke back to him in scornful verse, there are some who say\nhe spent those last seven years in praying and in making his songs\nof religion. To some it is a shadow that brings the warning, or a\nnoise of knocking or a dream. At the hour of a violent death nature\nitself will show sympathy; I have been told on a gloomy day that it\nhad darkened because there was a man being hanged; and a woman who\nhad travelled told me that once at Bundoran she had \"seen the waves\nroaring and turning\" and she knew later it was because at that very\ntime two young girls had been drowned._\n\n\n_I was told by Steve Simon:_\n\nI will tell you what I saw the night my wife died. I attended the\nneighbours up to the road, for they had come to see her, but she said\nthere was no fear of her, and she would not let them stop because she\nknew that they were up at a wake the night before.\n\nSo when I left them I was going back to the house, and I saw the\nshadow of my wife on the road before me, and it was as white as\ndrifted snow. And when I came into the house, there she was dying.\n\n\n_Mrs. Curran:_\n\nMy cousin Mary that lives in the village beyond told me that she was\ncoming home yesterday week along the road, and she is a girl would\nnot be afraid to walk the whole world with herself. And it was late,\nand suddenly there was a man walking beside her, inside the field, on\nthe other side of the wall.\n\nAnd at first she was frightened, but then she felt sure it was her\ncousin John that was dying, and then she wasn't afraid, for she knew\nher cousin would do her no harm. And after a while he was gone, and\nwhen she got near home and saw the lights she was frightened, and\nwhen she got into the house she was in a sort of a faint. And next\nday, this day week, her cousin was dead.\n\n\n_Old Simon:_\n\nI heard the Banshee crying not long ago, and within three days a boy\nof the Murphy's was killed by his own horse and he bringing his cart\nto Kinvara. And I heard it again a few nights ago, but I heard of no\ndeath since then. What is the Banshee? It is of the nature of the\nHyneses. Six families it cries for, the Hyneses and the Fahys and I\nforget what are the others.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI heard her beside the river at Ballylee one time. I would stand\nbarefooted in the snow listening to the tune she had, so nice and so\ncalm and so mournful.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI would yield to dreams because of some things were dreamed to me\nin my lifetime and that turned out true. I dreamed one time that I\nsaw my daughter that was in America dead, and stretched and a table\nlaid out with the corpse. She came home after, and at the end of five\nmonths she wasted and died. And there I saw her stretched as in the\ndream, and it was on my own table.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time I was walking the road and I heard a great crying and\nkeening beside me, a woman that was keening, and she conveyed me\nthree miles of the road. And when I got to the door of the house I\nlooked down and saw a little woman, very broad and broad faced--about\nthe bigness of the seat of that table--and a cloak about her. I\ncalled out to her that was my first wife--the Lord be with her--and\nshe lighted a candle and I came in weak and lay upon the floor, and I\nwas till 12 o'clock that night lying in the bed.\n\nA man I was talking to said it was the Banshee, and it cries for\nthree families, the Fahys and the O'Briens and another I forget\nwhich. My grandmother was a Fahy, and I suppose, father or mother, it\nfollows the generations. I heard it another time and my daughter from\nAmerica coming into the house that night. It was the most mournful\nthing ever you heard, keening about the house for the same term as\nbefore, till 12 o'clock of night. And within five months my daughter\nfrom America was dead.\n\n\n_John Cloran:_\n\nThere was a man near us that was ploughing a field, and he found an\niron box, and they say there was in it a very old Irish book with all\nthe knowledge of the world in it. Anyway, there's no question you\ncould ask him he couldn't answer. And what he says of the Banshee is,\nthat it's Rachel mourning still for every innocent of the earth that\nis going to die, like as she did for our Lord when the king had like\nto kill Him. But it's only for them that's sprung from her own tribe\nthat she'll raise her voice.\n\n\n_Mrs. Smith:_\n\nAs for the Banshee, where she stops is in the old castle of\nEsserkelly on the Roxborough estate. Many a one has seen her there\nand heard her wailing, wailing, and she with a red petticoat put\nabout her head. There was a family of the name of Fox in Moneen, and\nnever one of that family died but she'd be heard keening them.\n\n\n_The Spinning Woman:_\n\nThe Banshee is all I ever saw myself. It was when I was a slip of a\ngirl picking potatoes along with the other girls, we heard crying,\ncrying, in the graveyard beyond at Ryanrush, so we ran like foals to\nsee who was being buried, and I was the first, and leaped up on the\nwall. And there she was and gave me a slap on the jaw, and she just\nlike a countrywoman with a red petticoat. Often they hear her crying\nif any one is going to die in the village.\n\n\n_A Seaside Woman:_\n\nOne time there was a man in the village was dying and I stood at the\ndoor in the evening, and I heard a crying--the grandest cry ever you\nheard--and I said \"Glynn's after dying and they're crying him.\" And\nthey all came to the door and heard it. But my mother went out after\nthat and found him gasping still.\n\nSure enough it was the Banshee we heard that evening.\n\nAnd out there where the turf-boat is lying with its sail down,\noutside Aughanish, there the Banshee does always be crying, crying,\nfor some that went down there some time.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAt Fiddoon that strip of land between Tyrone and Duras something\nappears and cries for a month before any one dies. A great many are\ntaken away sudden there; and they say that it's because of that thing.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Banshee cries every time one of the Sionnacs dies. And when the\nold Captain died, the crows all left the place within two days, and\nnever came back for a year.\n\n\n_A Connemara Woman:_\n\nThere was a boy from Kylemore I met in America used to be able to\ntell fortunes. He used to be telling them when the work would be\ndone, and we would be having afternoon tea. He told me one time I\nwould soon be at a burying, and it would be a baby's burying, and I\nlaughed at that. But sure enough, my sister's baby, that was not born\nat the time, died about a month after, and I went to its burying.\n\n\n_A Herd:_\n\nCrying for those that are going to die you'd hear of often enough.\nAnd when my own wife was dying, the night she went I was sitting by\nthe fire, and I heard a noise like the blow of a flail on the door\noutside. And I went to see what it was, but there was nothing there.\nBut I was not in any way frightened, and wouldn't be if she came back\nin a vision, but glad to see her I would be.\n\n\n_A Miller:_\n\nThere was a man that was out in the field and a flock of stares\n(starlings) came about his head, and it wasn't long after that he died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's many say they saw the Banshee, and that if she heard you\nsinging loud she'd be very apt to bring you away with her.\n\n\n_A Connemara Woman:_\n\nOne night the clock in my room struck six and it had not struck for\nyears, and two nights after--on Christmas night--it struck six again,\nand afterwards I heard that my sister in America had died just at\nthat hour. So now I have taken the weights off the clock, that I\nwouldn't hear it again.\n\n\n_Mrs. Huntley:_\n\nIt was always said that when a Lord ---- died, a fox was seen about the\nhouse. When the last Lord ---- lay dying, his daughter heard a noise\noutside the house one night, and opened the hall-door, and then she\nsaw a great number of foxes lying on the steps and barking and running\nabout. And the next morning there was a meet at some distant covert--it\nhad been changed there from hard by where it was to have taken place\non account of his illness--and there was not a single fox to be found\nthere or in any other covert. And that day he died.\n\n\n_J. Hanlon:_\n\nThere was one Costello used to be ringing the bell and pumping water\nand such things at Roxborough, and one day he was at the fair of\nLoughrea. And as he started home he sent word to my grandfather \"Come\nto the corner of the old castle and you'll find me dead.\" So he set\nout, and when he got to the corner of the castle, there was Costello\nlying dead before him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd once going to a neighbour's house to see a little girl, I saw her\nrunning along the path before me. But when I got to the house she was\nin bed sick, and died two days after.\n\n\n_Pat. Linskey:_\n\nWell, the time my own wife died I had sent her into _Cloon_ to get\nsome things from the market, and I was alone in the house with the\ndog. And what do you think but he started up and went out to the hill\noutside the house, and there he stood a while howling, and it was\nthe very next day my wife died.\n\nAnother time I had shut the house door at night and fastened it, and\nin the morning it was standing wide open. And as I knew by the dates\nafterwards that was the very night my brother died in India.\n\nSure I told Stephen Green that, when he buried his mother in England,\nand his father lying in Kilmacduagh. \"You should never separate,\"\nsays I, \"in death a couple that were together in life, for sure as\nfate, the one'll come to look for the other.\"\n\nAnd when there's one of them passing in the air you might get a blast\nof holy wind you wouldn't be the better of for a long time.\n\n\n_Mrs. Curran:_\n\nI was in Galway yesterday, and I was told there that the night before\nthose four poor boys were drowned, there were four women heard crying\nout on the rocks. Those that saw them say that they were young, and\nthey were out of this world. And one of those boys was out at sea all\nday, the day before he was drowned. And when he came in to Galway in\nthe evening, some boy said to him \"I saw you today standing up on the\nhigh bridge.\" And he was afraid and he told his mother and said \"Why\ndid they see me on the high bridge and I out at sea?\" And the next\nday he was drowned. And some say there was not much at all to drown\nthem that day.\n\n\n_A Man near Athenry:_\n\nThere is often crying heard before a death, and in that field beside\nus the sound of washing clothes with a beetle is sometimes heard\nbefore a death.\n\nI heard crying in that field near the forth one night, and not long\nafter the man it belonged to died.\n\n\n_An Aran Man:_\n\nI remember one morning, St. Bridget's Eve, my son-in-law came into\nthe house, where he had been up that little road you see above. And\nthe wife asked him did he see any one, and he said \"I saw Shamus\nMeagher driving cattle.\" And the wife said, \"You couldn't see him,\nfor he's out laying spillets since daybreak with two other men.\" And\nhe said, \"But I did see him, and I could have spoke with him.\" And\nthe next day--St. Bridget's Day--there was confessions in the little\nchapel below and I was in it, and Shamus Meagher, and it was he that\nwas kneeling next to me at the Communion. But the next morning he\nand two other men that had set the spillets went on in their canoe\nto Kilronan for salt, for they had come short of salt and had a good\ndeal of fish taken. And that day the canoe was upset, and the three\nof them were drowned.\n\n\n_A Piper:_\n\nMy father and my mother were in the bed one night and they heard a\ngreat lowing and a noise of the cattle fighting one another, that\nthey thought they were all killed, and they went out and they were\nquiet then. But they went on to the next house where they heard a\nlowing, and all the cattle of that house were fighting one another,\nand so it was at the next. And in the morning a child, one Gannon,\nwas dead--or taken he was.\n\n\n_An Old Man in Aran:_\n\nWhen I was in the State of Maine, I knew a woman from the County\nCork, and she had a little girl sick. And one day she went out behind\nthe house and there she saw the fields full of _those_--full of them.\nAnd the little girl died.\n\nAnd when I was in the same State, I was in the house where there\nwas a child sick. And one night I heard a noise outside, as if of\nhammering. And I went out and I thought it came from another house\nthat was close by that no one lived in, and I went and tried the door\nbut it was shut up.\n\nAnd I went back and said to the woman, \"This is the last night you'll\nhave to watch the child.\" And at 12 o'clock the next evening it died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey took my hat from me one time. One morning just at sunrise I was\ngoing down to the sea, and a little storm came, and took my hat off\nand brought it a good way, and then it brought it back and returned\nit to me again.\n\n\n_An Old Midwife:_\n\nI do be dreaming, dreaming. I dreamt one night I was with my daughter\nand that she was dead and put in the coffin. And I heard after, the\ntime I dreamt about her was the very time she died.\n\n\n_A Woman near Loughrea:_\n\nThere are houses in Cloon, and Geary's is one of them, where if the\npeople sit up too late the warning comes; it comes as a knocking at\nthe door. Eleven o'clock, that is the hour. It is likely it is some\nthat lived in the house are wanting it for themselves at that time.\nAnd there is a house near the Darcys' where as soon as the potatoes\nare strained from the pot, they must put a plateful ready and leave\nit for the night, and milk and the fire on the hearth, and there is\nnot a bit left at morning. Some poor souls that come in, looking for\nwarmth and for food.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is a woman seen often before a death sitting by the river and\nracking her hair, and she has a beetle with her and she takes it and\nbeetles clothes in the river. And she cries like any good crier; you\nwould be sorry to be listening to her.\n\n\n_Old King:_\n\nI heard the Banshee and saw her. I and six others were card playing in\nthe kitchen at the big house, that is sunk into the ground, and I saw\nher up outside of the window. She had a white dress and it was as if\nheld over her face. They all looked up and saw it, and they were all\nafraid and went back but myself. Then I heard a cry that did not seem\nto come from her but from a good way off, and then it seemed to come\nfrom herself. She made no attempt to twist a mournful cry but all she\nsaid was, \"Oh-oh, Oh-oh,\" but it was as mournful as the oldest of the\nold women could make it, that was best at crying the dead.\n\nOld Mr. Sionnac was at Lisdoonvarna at that time, and he came home a\nfew days after and took to the bed and died. It is always the Banshee\nhas followed the Sionnacs and cried them.\n\n\n_Mrs. King:_\n\nThere was a boy of the Naughtons died not far from this, a fine young\nman. And I set out to go to the burying, and Mrs. Burke along with\nme. But when we came to the gate we could hear crying for the dead,\nand I said \"It's as good for us wait where we are, for they have\nbrought the corp out and are crying him.\" So we waited a while and\nno one came, and so we went on to the house, and we had two hours to\nwait before they brought out the corp for the burying, and there had\nbeen no crying at all till he was brought out. We knew then who it\nwas crying, for if the boy was a Naughton, it is in a house of the\nKearns he died, and the Banshee always cries for the Kearns.\n\n\n_A Doctor:_\n\nThere's a boy I'm attending now, and the first time I went to him,\nthe mother came out of the house with me and said \"It's no use to do\nanything for him, I'm going to lose him.\" And I asked her why did she\nsay that, and she said \"Because the first night he took ill I heard\nthe sound of a chair drawing over to the fire in the kitchen, and it\nempty, and it was the faeries were coming for him.\" The boy wouldn't\nhave had much wrong with him, but his brother had died of phthisis,\nand when he got a cold he made sure he would die too, and he took to\nthe bed. And every day his mother would go in and cry for an hour\nover him, and then he'd cry and then the father would cry, and he'd\nsay \"Oh, how can I leave my father and my mother! Who will there be\nto mind them when I'm gone?\" One time he was getting a little better\nthey sent him over on a message to Scahanagh, and there's a man there\ncalled Shanny that makes coffins for the people. And the boy saw\nShanny looking at him, and he left his message undone and ran home\nand cried out \"Oh, I'm done for now! Shanny was looking at me to see\nwhat size coffin I'd take!\" And he cried and they all cried and all\nthe village came in to see what was the matter.\n\n\n_The Old Army man:_\n\nAs to the invisible world, I hear enough about it, but I have seen\nbut little myself. One night when I was at Calcutta I heard that\none Connor was dead--a man that I had been friendly with--so I went\nto the house. There was a good many of us there, and when it came to\njust before midnight, I heard a great silence fall, and I looked from\none to another to see the silence. And then there came a knock at\nthe window, just as the clock was striking twelve. And Connor's wife\nsaid, \"It was just at this hour last night there came a knock like\nthat and immediately afterwards he died.\" And the strange thing is,\nit was a barrack-room and on the second story, so that no one could\nreach it from the street.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn India, before Delhi, there was an officer's servant lodged in the\nsame house as me, and was thrown out of his cot every night. And as\nsure as midnight came, the dogs couldn't stop outside but would come\nshrinking and howling into the house. Yes indeed, I believe the faeries\nare in all countries, all over the world; but the banshee is only in\nIreland, though sometimes in India I would think of her when I'd hear\nthe hyenas laughing. Keening, keening, you can hear her, but only for\nthe old Irish families, but she'll follow them even as far as Dublin.\n\n\n\n\n IV\n\n IN THE WAY\n\n\n\n\n IV\n\n IN THE WAY\n\n\n_An old Athenry man who had been as a soldier all through the Indian\nMutiny and had come back to end his days here as a farmer said to me\nin speaking of \"The Others\" and those who may be among them: \"There's\nsome places of their own we should never touch such as the forths; and\nif ever we cross their pathways we're like to know it soon enough, for\nsome ill turn they'll do us, and then we must draw back out of their\nway.... And we should above all things leave the house clean at night,\nwith nothing about that would offend them. For we must all die some\nday, but God knows we're not all fit for heaven just on the minute; and\nwhat the intermediate state may be, or what friends we may want there,\nI don't know. No one has come back to tell us that.\"_\n\n\n_I was told by John Donovan:_\n\nBefore I came here I was for two years in a house outside Cloon. And\nno one that lived there ever prospered but all they did went to loss.\nI sowed seeds and put in the crop each year, and if I'd stopped there\nI wouldn't have had enough to keep trousers to my back. _In the way_\nthe place must be. I had no disturbance in the house, but some nights\nI could hear the barrel rolling outside the door, back and forwards,\nwith a sort of a warning to me.\n\nI knew another house in Clare where the front door is always shut up\nand they only use the back door, but when I asked them the reason\nthey said if they opened the front door a sudden blast would come in,\nthat would take the roof off the house. And there's another house in\nClare built in a forth, a new one, shut up and the windows closed,\nfor no one can live in it.\n\n\n_Andrew Lee:_\n\n\"In the way?\" Yes that's a thing that often happens. Sure going into\nClough, you might see a house that no man ever yet kept a roof on.\nSurely it's in the way of their coming and going. And Doctor Nolan's\nfather began to build a barn one time, and whatever was built in the\nday, in the night it would be pulled down, so at last they gave over.\nIt was only labour and wages wasted.\n\n\n_Mrs. Cloran:_\n\nNo, I never heard or felt anything since I came here. The old people\nused to tell many things, they know more than what the youngsters do.\nMy mother saw many a thing, but they did her no harm. No, I remember\nnone of the stories; since my children died and a weight came on my\nheart all those things went from me. Yes, it's true Father Boyle\nbanished the dog; and there was a cousin of my own used to live in\nthe house at Garryland, and she could get no sleep for what she used\nto feel at night. But Father Boyle came and whatever he did, \"You'll\nfeel them no more,\" says he, and she never did, though he was buried\nbefore her.\n\nThat was a bad, bad place we lived in near the sea. The children\nnever felt anything, but often in the night I could hear music\nplaying and no one else in the house could hear it. But the children\ndied one by one, passing away without pain or ache.\n\nAll they saw was twice; the two last little girls I had were beside\nthe door at night talking and laughing and they saw a big dark man\npass by, but he never spoke. Some old thing out of the walls he must\nhave been. And soon after that they died.\n\nOne time when I was there a strange woman came in, and she knew\neverything and told me everything. \"I'd give you money if I had it,\"\nsaid I. \"I know well you haven't much of it,\" says she; \"but take my\nword and go away out of this house to some other place, for you're\n_in the way_.\" She told me to tell no one she came, and that shows\nthere was something not right about her; and I never saw her any more.\n\nBut if I'd listened to her then, and if I knew then what she meant\nby the house being _in the way_ I wouldn't have stopped in it, and\nmy seven fine children would be with me now. Took away they were by\n_them_ and without ache or pain. I never had a sign or a vision from\nthem since, but often and often they come across me in my sleep.\n\n\n_Her Husband:_\n\nThe woman that came to give my wife the warning, I didn't see her,\nand she knew all that was in the house and all about me and what\nmoney I had, and that I would grow very poor. And she said that\nbefore I'd die, I'd go to the strand and come back again. And we\ncouldn't know what she meant, and we thought it must mean that I'd go\nto America. But we knew it at last. For one day I was washing sheep\ndown at Cahirglissane, and there is said to be the deepest water in\nthe world in one part of that lake. And as I was standing by it, a\nsheep made a run and went between my two legs, and threw me into the\nwater, and I not able to swim. And I was brought on the top of the\nwater safe and sound to land again; and I knew well who it was helped\nme, and saved my life. She that had come before to give advice that\nwould save my children, it's she that was my friend over there. To\nsay a Mass in the house? No use at all that would have been, living\nin the place we did.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut they're mostly good neighbours. There was a woman they used to\nhelp, one of them used to come and help her to clean the house, but\nshe never came when the husband was there. And one day she came and\nsaid they were going to move now, to near Clifden. And she bid the\nwoman follow them, and whenever she'd come to a briar turned down,\nwith a thorn stuck in the earth, to build a house there.\n\n\n_A Travelling Man:_\n\nI was sleeping at a house one time and _they_ came in--the fallen\nangels. They were pulling the clothes off me, ten times they did\nthat, and they were laughing like geese--just the very sound of\ngeese--and their boots were too large for their feet and were\nclapping, clapping on the floor. I suppose they didn't like me to be\nin it, or that the house was built in one of their passages.\n\nMy father was driven out of the little garden house at Castleboy one\ntime he went to sleep in it. In the way, I suppose it must have been.\n\nAnd I knew of a herd's house, where five or six herds went one after\nanother and every one of them died, and their dogs and their cow. And\nthe gentleman that owned the place came to ask another one to go in\nit, and his wife said she wouldn't go, for there was some bad luck\nabout it. But she went after, and she was a very clean woman, not\nlike some of them that do have the house dirty. Well, one day a woman\ncame to the door and asked for a dish of oaten meal, and she took\nit from the shelf, and gave it to her. \"I'll bring it back to you\ntomorrow,\" says she, \"it'll be easy getting it then when it's market\nday.\" \"Do not,\" says the woman of the house, \"for if you do I won't\ntake it.\" \"Well,\" says the stranger, \"you'll have luck after this;\nonly one thing I tell you, keep that door at the back shut, and if\nyou want any opening there, let you open the window.\" Well, so she\ndid, and by minding that rule, and keeping the house so clean, she\nwas never troubled but lived there all her life.\n\n\n_An Island Woman:_\n\nThere are some houses that never bring luck. There is one over there,\nout of this village, and two or three died in it, and one night it\nblazed up and burned down, those that were out in the fishing boats\ncould see it, but it was never known how it happened.\n\nThere was a house over in the other village and a woman living in it\nthat had two forths of land. And she had clever children, but the\nmost of them died one after another, boys and girls, and then the\nhusband died. And after that one of the boys that had died came to\nher and said \"You'd best leave this house or you'll be as we are,\nand we are all now living in the Black Rock at the gable end of the\nhouse. And two of the McDaraghs are with us there.\"\n\nSo after that she left the house--you can cut grass now in the\nplace where it was, and it's green all through the summer and the\nwinter--and she went up to the north side and she married a young man\nup there, for she was counted a rich woman. She had but two daughters\nleft, and one of them was married, and there was a match to be made\nfor the other, but the stepfather wouldn't allow her to give any of\nthe land to her, so she said she'd go to America, and the priest drew\nup a stamped paper for her, that they'd keep a portion of money for\nher every year till she'd come back. It wasn't long after that the\nstepfather was out in one of the fields one day and two men came and\nknocked him down and gave him a beating. And it was his belief it was\nthe father of the girl and one of the brothers that came to beat him.\n\nAnd one of the neighbours that went to the house one night saw one\nof the brothers standing at the window, plump and plain. And a first\ncousin of theirs--a Donovan--was near the Black Rock one night, and\nhe saw them playing ball there, the whole of them that had gone, and\nothers with them. And when they saw him they whistled to make fun of\nhim, and he went away.\n\nThe stepfather died after that, and the woman herself died, and was\nburied a week yesterday. And she had one son by the second husband and\nhe was always silly-like, and the night she died he went into the room\nwhere she was, to the other side of the bed, and he called out, and\nthen he came out walking crooked, and his face drawn up on one side;\nand so he is since, and a neighbour taking care of him. And you'd\nhardly mind what a poor silly creature like him would say, but what he\nsays is that it was some of the boys that were gone that were in it.\nAnd now there's no one to take up the land that so many were after; the\ngirl in America wouldn't for all the world come back to that place.\n\n\n\n\n V\n\n THE FIGHTING OF THE FRIENDS\n\n\n\n\n V\n\n THE FIGHTING OF THE FRIENDS\n\n\n_\"One time on Hy, one Brito of Columcille's brotherhood was dying,\nand Columcille gave him his blessing but would not see him die,\nand went out into the little court of the house. And he had hardly\ngone out when the life went from Brito. And Columcille was out in\nthe little court, and one of the monks saw him looking upward, and\nwonder on him, and he asked what was it he saw. And Columcille said,\n'I have seen just at this moment the holy angels fighting in the air\nagainst the power of the enemy, and I gave thanks to Christ, the\nJudge, because the winning angels have carried to heaven the soul\nof this stranger that is the first to have died among us in this\nisland. And do not tell his secret to any person in my lifetime,' he\nsaid.\"_--\"Saints and Wonders.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\n_\"With that King Arthur entereth into a great forest adventurous, and\nrideth the day long until he cometh about evensong into the thick of\nthe forest. And he espied a little house beside a little chapel, and\nit well seemed to him to be a hermitage.... And it seemed to him that\nthere was a strife in the chapel. The ones were weeping so tenderly\nand sweetly as it were angels, and the others spake so harshly as\nit were fiends.... The voices ceased as soon as he was within. He\nmarvelleth how it came that this house and hermitage were solitary,\nand what had become of the hermit that dwelt therein. He drew nigh\nthe altar of the chapel, and beheld in front thereof a coffin all\ndiscovered, and he saw the hermit lying therein all clad in his\nvestments, and his hands crossed upon his breast, and he had life in\nhim yet, but he was nigh his end, being at the point of death.... The\nKing departed and so returned back into the little house, and sate\nhim down on a seat whereon the hermit wont to sit. And he heareth\nthe strife and the noise begin again within the chapel, and the ones\nhe heareth speaking high and the others low, and he knoweth well by\nthe voices that the ones are angels and the others devils. And he\nheareth that the devils are distraining on the hermit's soul, and\nthat judgment will presently be given in their favour, whereof make\nthey great joy. King Arthur is grieved in his heart when he heareth\nthat the angels' voices are stilled. And while he sitteth thus,\nstooping his head toward the ground, full of vexation and discontent,\nhe heareth in the chapel the voice of a Lady that spake so sweet\nand clear that no man in this earthly world, were his grief and\nheaviness never so sore, but and he had heard the sweet voice of her\npleading would again have been in joy.... The devils go their way all\ndiscomfit and aggrieved; and the sweet Mother of our Lord God taketh\nthe soul of the hermit.... And the angels take it and begin to sing\nfor joy 'Te Deum Laudamus.' And the Holy Lady leadeth them and goeth\nher way along with them.\"_--\"The High History of the Holy Grail.\"\nTranslated by Sebastian Evans.\n\n * * * * *\n\n_Before I had read this old story from \"The High History of the Holy\nGrail\" I had heard on our own roads of the fighting at the hour of\ndeath, and how the friends of the dying among the dead come and use\ntheir strength on his side, and I had been shown here and there a house\nwhere such a fight had taken place. In the old days it was a king or\nsaint who saw and heard this unearthly battle; but now it is not those\nwho live in palaces who are aware of it, and it is not around the roof\nof a fair chapel the hosts of good and evil gather in combat for the\nparting soul, but around the thatched and broken roof of the poor._\n\n\n_I was told by An Islander:_\n\nThere are more of the Sheogue in America than what there are here, and\nmore of other sort of spirits. There was a man from there told me that\none night in America he had brought his wife's niece that was sick back\nfrom the hospital, and had put her in an upper room. And in the evening\nthey heard a scream from her and she called out \"The room is full of\nthem, and my father is with them, and my aunt.\" And he drove them away\nand used the devil's name and cursed them. And she was left quiet that\nnight, but the next day she said \"I'll be destroyed altogether tonight\nwith them.\" And he said he'd keep them out, and he locked the door of\nthe house. And towards midnight he heard them coming to the door and\ntrying to get in, but he kept it locked and he called to them by way\nof the keyhole to keep away out of that. And there was talking among\nthem, and the girl that was upstairs said that she could hear the laugh\nof her father and of her aunt. And they heard the greatest fighting\namong them that ever was, and after that they went away, and the girl\ngot well. That's what often happens, crying and fighting for one that's\nsick or going to die.\n\n\n_Mrs. Meagher:_\n\nThere was an old woman the other day was telling me of a little girl\nthat was put to bake a cake, for her mother was sick in the room. And\nwhen she turned away her head for a minute the cake was gone. And\nthat happened the second day and the third, and the mother was vexed\nwhen she heard it, thinking some of the neighbours had come and taken\nit away.\n\nBut the next day an old man appeared, and she knew he was the\ngrandfather, and he said \"It's by me the cake was taken, for I was\nwatching the house these three nights when I knew there was some one\nsick in it. And you never heard such a fight as there was for her last\nnight, and they would have brought her away but for me that had my\nshoulder to the door.\" And the woman began to recover from that time.\n\n\n_Tom Smith:_\n\nThere does often be fighting when a person is dying. John Madden's\nwife that lived in this house before I came to it, the night she died\nthere was a noise heard, that all the village thought that every wall\nof every garden round about was falling down. But in the morning\nthere was no sign of any of them being fallen.\n\nAnd Hannay that lived at Cahir, the bonesetter, when I went to him\none time told me that one night late he was walking the road near\nArdrahan. And they heard a great noise of fighting in the castle he\nwas passing by, and no one living in it and it open to the sky. And\nhe turned in and was going up the stairs, and a lady in a white dress\nstopped him and wouldn't let him pass up. But the next day he went to\nlook and he found the floor all covered with blood.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd before John Casey's death, John Leeson asked me one day were we\nfighting down at our place, for he heard a great noise of fighting\nthe night before.\n\n\n_A Farmer:_\n\nAs to fighting for those that are dying, I'd believe in that. There was\na girl died not far from here, and the night of her death there was\nheard in the air the sound of an army marching, and the drums beating,\nand it stopped over the house where she was lying sick. And they could\nsee no one, but could hear the drums and the marching plain enough, and\nthere were like little flames of lightning playing about it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDid they fight for Johnny Casey? No, believe me it's not among the\nfaeries Johnny Casey is. Too old he is for them to want him among\nthem, and too cranky.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI would hardly believe they'd take the old, but we can't know what they\nmight want of them. And it's well to have a friend among them, and\nit's always said you have no right to fret if your children die, for\nit's well to have them there before you. And when a person is dying the\nfriends and the others will often come about the house and will give a\ngreat challenge for him. They don't want cross people, and they won't\ntake you if you say so much as one cross word. It's only the good and\nthe pious they want. Now isn't that very good of them?\n\n\n_Another:_\n\nThere was a young man I knew died, a fine young man, twenty-five\nyears of age. He was seven or eight days ill, and the night he died\nthey could hear fighting around the house, and they heard voices but\nthey couldn't know what they were saying. And in the morning the\nground was all covered with blood.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen Connors the young policeman died, sure the mother said she never\nheard such fighting as went on within the house. And there was blood\nsplashed high up on the walls. They never let on how he got the\ntouch, but I suppose they knew it themselves.\n\n\n_A Gatekeeper:_\n\nThere was a girl near Westport was _away_, and the way it came on her\nwas, she was on the road one day and two men passed her, and one of\nthem said, \"That's a fine girl,\" and the other said, \"She belongs to\nmy town,\" and there and then she got a pain in her knee, and couldn't\nwalk home but had to be brought in a car. And she used to be away at\nnight, and thorns in her feet in the morning, but she never said where\nshe went. But one time the sister brought her to Kilfenora, and when\nthey were crossing a bog near to there, she pointed out a house in the\nbog, and she said \"It's there I was last night.\" And the sister asked\ndid she know any one she saw in it, and she said \"There was one I know,\nthat is my mother's cousin,\" and she told her name. And she said \"But\nfor her they'd have me ill-treated, but she fought for me and saved\nme.\" She was thought to be dying one time and given over, and my mother\nsent me to see her, and how was she. And she was lying on the bed and\nher eyes turned back, and she speechless, and I told my mother when I\ncame home she hadn't an hour to live. And the next day she was up and\nabout and not a thing on her. It might be the mother's cousin that\nfought for her again there. She went to America after.\n\n\n_An Aran Woman:_\n\nThere's often fighting heard about the house where one is sick, that\nis what we call \"the fighting of the friends\" for we believe it is\nthe friends and the enemies of the sick person fighting for him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI knew a house where there were a good many sleeping one night, and\nin the morning there was blood on the threshold, and the clothes of\nthose that slept on the floor had blood on them. And it wasn't long\nafter that the woman of the house took sick and died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night there was one of the boys very sick within, and in the\nmorning the grandmother said she heard a great noise of fighting in the\nnight about the door. And she said: \"If it hadn't been for Michael and\nJohn being drowned, you'd have lost Martin last night. For they were\nthere fighting for him; I heard them, and I saw the shadow of Michael,\nbut when I turned to take hold of him he was gone.\"\n\n\n\n\n VI\n\n THE UNQUIET DEAD\n\n\n\n\n VI\n\n THE UNQUIET DEAD\n\n\n_A good many years ago when I was but beginning my study of the\nfolk-lore of belief, I wrote somewhere that if by an impossible miracle\nevery trace and memory of Christianity could be swept out of the world,\nit would not shake or destroy at all the belief of the people of\nIreland in the invisible world, the cloud of witnesses, in immortality\nand the life to come. For them the veil between things seen and unseen\nhas hardly thickened since those early days of the world when the sons\nof God mated with the daughters of men; when angels spoke with Abraham\nin Hebron or with Columcille in the oakwoods of Derry, or when as an\nold man at my own gate told me they came and visited the Fianna, the\nold heroes of Ireland, \"because they were so nice and so respectable.\"\nIreland has through the centuries kept continuity of vision, the vision\nit is likely all nations possessed in the early days of faith. Here in\nConnacht there is no doubt as to the continuance of life after death.\nThe spirit wanders for a while in that intermediate region to which\nmystics and theologians have given various names, and should it return\nand become visible those who loved it will not be afraid, but will, as\nI have already told, put a light in the window to guide the mother home\nto her child, or go out into the barley gardens in the hope of meeting\na son. And if the message brought seems hardly worth the hearing, we\nmay call to mind what Frederic Myers wrote of more instructed ghosts:_\n\n_\"If it was absurd to listen to Kepler because he bade the planets\nmove in no perfect circles but in undignified ellipses, because he\nhastened and slackened from hour to hour what ought to be a heavenly\nbody's ideal and unwavering speed; is it not absurder still to refuse\nto listen to these voices from afar, because they come stammering and\nwandering as in a dream confusedly instead of with a trumpet's call?\nBecause spirits that bending to earth may undergo perhaps an earthly\nbewilderment and suffer unknown limitations, and half remember and\nhalf forget?\"_\n\n_And should they give the message more clearly who knows if it would\nbe welcome? For the old Scotch story goes that when S. Columcille's\nbrother Dobhran rose up from his grave and said, \"Hell is not so bad\nas people say,\" the Saint cried out, \"Clay, clay on Dobhran!\" before\nhe could tell any more._\n\n\n_I was told by Mrs. Dennehy:_\n\nThose that mind the teaching of the clergy say the dead go to Limbo\nfirst and then to Purgatory and then to hell or to heaven. Hell is\nalways burning and if you go there you never get out; but those that\nmind the old people don't believe, and I don't believe, that there is\nany hell. I don't believe God Almighty would make Christians to put\nthem into hell afterwards.\n\nIt is what the old people say, that after death the shadow goes\nwandering, and the soul is weak, and the body is taking a rest. The\nshadow wanders for a while and it pays the debts it had to pay, and\nwhen it is free it puts out wings and flies to Heaven.\n\n\n_An Aran Man:_\n\nThere was an old man died, and after three days he appeared in the\ncradle as a baby; they knew him by an old look in his face, and his\nface being long and other things. An old woman that came into the\nhouse saw him, and she said, \"He won't be with you long, he had three\ndeaths to die, and this is the second,\" and sure enough he died at\nthe end of six years.\n\n\n_Mrs. Martin:_\n\nThere was a man beyond when I lived at Ballybron, and it was said of\nhim that he was taken away--up before God Almighty. But the blessed\nMother asked for grace for him for a year and a day. So he got it. I\nseen him myself, and many seen him, and at the end of the year and a\nday he died. And that man ought to be happy now anyway. When my own\npoor little girl was drowned in the well, I never could sleep but\nfretting, fretting, fretting. But one day when one of my little boys\nwas taking his turn to serve the Mass he stopped on his knees without\ngetting up. And Father Boyle asked him what did he see and he looking\nup. And he told him that he could see his little sister in the\npresence of God, and she shining like the sun. Sure enough that was a\nvision He had sent to comfort us. So from that day I never cried nor\nfretted any more.\n\n\n_A Herd:_\n\nDo you believe Roland Joyce was seen? Well, he was. A man I know told\nme he saw him the night of his death, in Esserkelly where he had a\nfarm, and a man along with him going through the stock. And all of a\nsudden a train came into the field, and brought them both away like a\nblast of wind.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd as for old Parsons Persse of Castleboy, there's thousands of people\nhas seen him hunting at night with his horses and his hounds and his\nbugle blowing. There's no mistake at all about him being there.\n\n\n_An Aran Woman:_\n\nThere was a girl in the middle island had died, and when she was\nbeing washed, and a priest in the house, there flew by the window the\nwhitest bird that ever was seen. And the priest said to the father:\n\"Do not lament, unless what you like, your child's happy for ever!\"\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nNear the strand there were two little girls went out to gather\ncow-dung. And they sat down beside a bush to rest themselves, and\nthere they heard a groan coming from under the ground. So they ran\nhome as fast as they could. And they were told when they went again\nto bring a man with them.\n\nSo the next time they went they brought a man with them, and they\nhadn't been sitting there long when they heard the saddest groan that\never you heard. So the man bent down and asked what was it. And a\nvoice from below said, \"Let some one shave me and get me out of this,\nfor I was never shaved after dying.\" So the man went away, and the\nnext day he brought soap and all that was needful and there he found\na body lying laid out on the grass. So he shaved it, and with that\nwings came and carried it up to high heaven.\n\n\n_A Chimney-sweep:_\n\nI don't believe in all I hear, or I'd believe in ghosts and faeries,\nwith all the old people telling you stories about them and the\npriests believing in them too. Surely the priests believe in ghosts,\nand tell you that they are souls that died in trouble. But I have\nbeen about the country night and day, and I remember when I used to\nhave to put my hand out at the top of every chimney in Coole House;\nand I seen or felt nothing to frighten me, except one night two rats\ncaught in a trap at Roxborough; and the old butler came down and beat\nme with a belt for the scream I gave at that. But if I believed in\nany one coming back, it would be in what you often hear, of a mother\ncoming back to care for her child.\n\nAnd there's many would tell you that every time you see a tree\nshaking there's a ghost in it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOld Lambert of Dangan was a terror for telling stories; he told me\nlong ago how he was near the Piper's gap on Ballybrit race-course,\nand he saw one riding to meet him, and it was old Michael Lynch of\nBallybrista, that was dead long before, and he never would go on the\nrace-course again. And he had heard the car with headless horses\ndriving through Loughrea. From every part they are said to drive, and\nthe place they are all going to is Benmore, near Loughrea, where there\nis a ruined dwelling-house and an old forth. And at Mount Mahon a herd\ntold me the other day he often saw old Andrew Mahon riding about at\nnight. But if I was a herd and saw that I'd hold my tongue about it.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nAt the graveyard of Drumacoo often spirits do be seen. Old George\nFitzgerald is seen by many. And when they go up to the stone he's\nsitting on, he'll be sitting somewhere else.\n\nThere was a man walking in the wood near there, and he met a woman,\na stranger, and he said \"Is there anything I can do for you?\" For he\nthought she was some country-woman gone astray. \"There is,\" says she.\n\"Then come home with me,\" says he, \"and tell me about it.\" \"I can't\ndo that,\" says she, \"but what you can do is this, go tell my friends\nI'm in great trouble, for twenty times in my life I missed going to\nchurch, and they must say twenty Masses for me now to deliver me,\nbut they seem to have forgotten me. And another thing is,\" says she,\n\"there's some small debts I left and they're not paid, and those are\nhelping to keep me in trouble.\" Well, the man went on and he didn't\nknow what in the world to do, for he couldn't know who she was, for\nthey are not permitted to tell their name. But going about visiting\nat country houses he used to tell the story, and at last it came out\nshe was one of the Shannons. For at a house he was telling it at they\nremembered that an old woman they had, died a year ago, and that she\nused to be running up little debts unknown to them. So they made\ninquiry at Findlater's and at another shop that's done away with now,\nand they found that sure enough she had left some small debts, not\nmore than ten shillings in each, and when she died no more had been\nsaid about it. So they paid these and said the Masses, and shortly\nafter she appeared to the man again. \"God bless you now,\" she said,\n\"for what you did for me, for now I'm at peace.\"\n\n\n_A Tinker's Daughter:_\n\nI heard of what happened to a family in the town. One night a thing\nthat looked like a goose came in. And when they said nothing to it,\nit went away up the stairs with a noise like lead. Surely if they had\nquestioned it, they'd have found it to be some soul in trouble.\n\nAnd there was another soul came back that was in trouble because of a\nha'porth of salt it owed.\n\nAnd there was a priest was in trouble and appeared after death, and\nthey had to say Masses for him, because he had done some sort of a\ncrime on a widow.\n\n\n_Mrs. Farley:_\n\nOne time myself I was at Killinan, at a house of the Clancys' where the\nfather and mother had died, but it was well known they often come to\nlook after the children. I was walking with another girl through the\nfields there one evening and I looked up and saw a tall woman dressed\nall in black, with a mantle of some sort, a wide one, over her head,\nand the waves of the wind were blowing it off her, so that I could hear\nthe noise of it. All her clothes were black, and had the appearance of\nbeing new. And I asked the other girl did she see her, and she said she\ndid not. For two that are together can never see such things, but only\none of them. So when I heard she saw nothing I ran as if for my life,\nand the woman seemed to be coming after me, till I crossed a running\nstream and she had no power to cross that. And one time my brother was\nstopping in the same house, and one night about twelve o'clock there\ncame a smell in the house like as if all the dead people were there.\nAnd one of the girls whose father and mother had died got up out of her\nbed, and began to put her clothes on, and they had to lock the doors to\nstop her from going away out of the house.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman I knew of that after her death was kept for seven\nyears in a tree in Kinadyfe, and for seven years after that she was\nkept under the arch of the little bridge beyond Kilchriest, with the\nwater running under her. And whether there was frost or snow she had\nno shelter from it, not so much as the size of a leaf.\n\nAt the end of the second seven years she came to her husband, and he\npassing the bridge on the way home from Loughrea, and when he felt\nher near him he was afraid, and he didn't stop to question her, but\nhurried on.\n\nSo then she came in the evening to the house of her own little girl.\nBut she was afraid when she saw her, and fell down in a faint. And the\nwoman's sister's child was in the house, and when the little girl told\nher what she saw, she said \"You must surely question her when she comes\nagain.\" So she came again that night, but the little girl was afraid\nagain when she saw her and said nothing. But the third night when she\ncame the sister's child, seeing her own little girl was afraid, said\n\"God bless you, God bless you.\" And with that the woman spoke and said\n\"God bless you for saying that.\" And then she told her all that had\nhappened her and where she had been all the fourteen years. And she\ntook out of her dress a black silk handkerchief and said: \"I took that\nfrom my husband's neck the day I met him on the road from Loughrea,\nand this very night I would have killed him, because he hurried away\nand would not stop to help me, but now that you have helped me I'll\nnot harm him. But bring with you to Kilmacduagh, to the graveyard,\nthree cross sticks with wool on them, and three glasses full of salt,\nand have three Masses said for me; and I'll appear to you when I am at\nrest.\" And so she did; and it was for no great thing she had done that\ntrouble had been put upon her.\n\n\n_John Cloran:_\n\nThat house with no roof was made a hospital of in the famine, and\nmany died there. And one night my father was passing by and he\nsaw some one standing all in white, and two men beside him, and he\nthought he knew one of the men and spoke to him and said \"Is that\nyou, Martin?\" but he never spoke nor moved. And as to the thing in\nwhite, he could not say was it man or woman, but my father never went\nby that place again at night.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe last person buried in a graveyard has the care of all the other\nsouls until another is to be buried, and then the soul can go and\nshift for itself. It may be a week or a month or a year, but watch\nthe place it must till another soul comes.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man used to be giving short measure, not giving the full\nyard, and one time after his death there was a man passing the river\nand the horse he had would not go into it. And he heard the voice\nof the tailor saying from the river he had a message to send to his\nwife, and to tell her not to be giving short measure, or she would be\nsent to the same place as himself. There was a hymn made about that.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman lived in Rathkane, alone in the house, and she told\nme that one night something came and lay over the bed and gave three\ngreat moans. That was all ever she heard in the house.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe shadows of the dead gather round at Samhain time to see is there\nany one among their friends saying a few Masses for them.\n\n\n_An Islander:_\n\nDown there near the point, on the 6th of March, 1883, there was a\ncurragh upset and five boys were drowned. And a man from County Clare\ntold me that he was on the coast that day, and that he saw them\nwalking towards him on the Atlantic.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is a house down there near the sea, and one day the woman of it\nwas sitting by the fire, and a little girl came in at the door, and\na red cloak about her, and she sat down by the fire. And the woman\nasked her where did she come from, and she said that she had just\ncome from Connemara. And then she went out, and when she was going\nout the door she made herself known to her sister that was standing\nin it, and she called out to the mother. And when the mother knew it\nwas the child she had lost near a year before, she ran out to call\nher, for she wouldn't for all the world to have not known her when\nshe was there. But she was gone and she never came again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was this boy's father took a second wife, and he was walking\nhome one evening, and his wife behind him, and there was a great wind\nblowing, and he kept his head stooped down because of the seaweed\ncoming blowing into his eyes. And she was about twenty paces behind,\nand she saw his first wife come and walk close beside him, and he\nnever saw her, having his head down, but she kept with him near all\nthe way. And when they got home, she told the husband who was with\nhim, and with the fright she got she was bad in her bed for two or\nthree days--do you remember that, Martin? She died after, and he has\na third wife taken now.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI believe all that die are brought among them, except maybe an odd\nold person.\n\n\n_A Kildare Woman:_\n\nThere was a woman I knew sent into the Rotunda Hospital for an\noperation. And when she was going she cried when she was saying\ngood-bye to her cousin that was a friend of mine, for she felt in her\nthat she would not come back again. And she put her two arms about\nher going away and said, \"If the dead can do any good thing for the\nliving, I'll do it for you.\" And she never recovered, but died in\nthe hospital. And within a few weeks something came on her cousin,\nmy friend, and they said it was her side that was paralysed, and she\ndied. And many said it was no common illness, but that it was the\ndead woman that had kept to her word.\n\n\n_A Connemara Man:_\n\nThere was a boy in New York was killed by rowdies, they killed him\nstanding against a lamppost and he was frozen to it, and stood there\ntill morning. And it is often since that time he was seen in the room\nand the passages of the house where he used to be living.\n\nAnd in the house beyond a woman died, and some other family came to\nlive in it; but every night she came back and stripped the clothes\noff them, so at last they went away.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen some one goes that owes money, the weight of the soul is\nmore than the weight of the body, and it can't get away and keeps\nwandering till some one has courage to question it.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nMy grandmother told my mother that in her time at Cloughballymore,\nthere was a woman used to appear in the churchyard of Rathkeale, and\nthat many boys and girls and children died with the fright they got\nwhen they saw her.\n\nSo there was a gentleman living near was very sorry for all the\nchildren dying, and he went to an old woman to ask her was there any\nway to do away with the spirit that appeared. So she said if any one\nwould have courage to go and to question it, he could do away with\nit. So the gentleman went at midnight and waited at the churchyard,\nand he on his horse, and had a sword with him. So presently the shape\nappeared and he called to it and said, \"Tell me what you are?\" And it\ncame over to him, and when he saw the face he got such a fright that\nhe turned the horse's head and galloped away as hard as he could. But\nafter galloping a long time he looked down and what did he see beside\nhim but the woman running and her hand on the horse. So he took his\nsword and gave a slash at her, and cut through her arm, so that she\ngave a groan and vanished, and he went on home.\n\nAnd when he got to the stable and had the lantern lighted, you may\nthink what a start he got when he saw the hand still holding on to the\nhorse, and no power could lift it off. So he went into the house and\nsaid his prayers to Almighty God to take it off. And all night long, he\ncould hear moaning and crying about the house. And in the morning when\nhe went out the hand was gone, but all the stable was splashed with\nblood. But the woman was never seen in those parts again.\n\n\n_A Seaside Man:_\n\nAnd many see the faeries at Knock and there was a carpenter died, and\nhe could be heard all night in his shed making coffins and carts and\nall sorts of things, and the people are afraid to go near it. There\nwere four boys from Knock drowned five years ago, and often now they\nare seen walking on the strand and in the fields and about the village.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man used to go out fowling, and one day his sister said\nto him, \"Whatever you do don't go out tonight and don't shoot any\nwild-duck or any birds you see flying--for tonight they are all poor\nsouls travelling.\"\n\n\n_An Old Man in Galway Workhouse:_\n\nBurke of Carpark's son died, but he used often to be seen going about\nafterwards. And one time a herd of his father's met with him and he\nsaid, \"Come tonight and help us against the hurlers from the north,\nfor they have us beat twice, and if they beat us a third time, it\nwill be a bad year for Ireland.\"\n\nIt was in the daytime they had the hurling match through the streets\nof Galway. No one could see them, and no one could go outside the\ndoor while it lasted, for there went such a whirlwind through the\ntown that you could not look through the window.\n\nAnd he sent a message to his father that he would find some paper he\nwas looking for a few days before, behind a certain desk, between\nit and the wall, and the father found it there. He would not have\nbelieved it was his son the herd met only for that.\n\n\n_A Munster Woman:_\n\nI have only seen them myself like dark shadows, but there's many can\nsee them as they are. Surely they bring away the dead among them.\n\nThere was a woman in County Limerick that died after her baby being\nborn. And all the people were in the house when the funeral was to\nbe, crying for her. And the cars and the horses were out on the road.\nAnd there was seen among them a carriage full of ladies, and with\nthem the woman was sitting that they were crying for, and the baby\nwith her, and it dressed.\n\nAnd there was another woman I knew of died, and left a family, and\noften after, the people saw her in their dreams, and always in rich\nclothes, though all the clothes she had were given away after she\ndied, for the good of her soul, except maybe her shawl. And her\nhusband married a serving girl after that, and she was hard to the\nchildren, and one night the woman came back to her, and had like\nto throw her out of the window in her nightdress, till she gave a\npromise to treat the children well, and she was afraid not to treat\nthem well after that.\n\nThere was a farmer died and he had done some man out of a saddle, and\nhe came back after to a friend, and gave him no rest till he gave a\nnew saddle to the man he had cheated.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nThere was a woman my brother told me about and she had a daughter\nthat was red-haired. And the girl got married when she was under\ntwenty, for the mother had no man to tend the land, so she thought\nbest to let her go. And after her baby being born, she never got\nstrong but stopped in the bed, and a great many doctors saw her but\ndid her no good.\n\nAnd one day the mother was at Mass at the chapel and she got a start,\nfor she thought she saw her daughter come in to the chapel with the\nsame shawl and clothes on her that she had before she took to the bed,\nbut when they came out from the chapel, she wasn't there. So she went\nto the house, and asked was she after going out, and what they told her\nwas as if she got a blow, for they said the girl hadn't ten minutes to\nlive, and she was dead before ten minutes were out. And she appears\nnow sometimes; they see her drawing water from the well at night and\nbringing it into the house, but they find nothing there in the morning.\n\n\n_A Connemara Man:_\n\nThere was a man had come back from Boston, and one day he was out in\nthe bay, going towards Aran with \u00a33 worth of cable he was after getting\nfrom McDonagh's store in Galway. And he was steering the boat, and\nthere were two turf-boats along with him, and all in a minute they saw\nhe was gone, swept off the boat with a wave and it a dead calm.\n\nAnd they saw him come up once, straight up as if he was pushed, and\nthen he was brought down again and rose no more.\n\nAnd it was some time after that a friend of his in Boston, and that\nwas coming home to this place, was in a crowd of people out there.\nAnd he saw him coming to him and he said, \"I heard that you were\ndrowned,\" and the man said, \"I am not dead, but I was brought here,\nand when you go home, bring these three guineas to McDonagh in Galway\nfor it's owed him for the cable I got from him.\" And he put the\nthree guineas in his hand and vanished away.\n\n\n_An Old Army Man:_\n\nI have seen hell myself. I had a sight of it one time in a vision. It\nhad a very high wall around it, all of metal, and an archway in the\nwall, and a straight walk into it, just like what would be leading\ninto a gentleman's orchard, but the edges were not trimmed with box\nbut with red-hot metal. And inside the wall there were cross walks,\nand I'm not sure what there was to the right, but to the left there\nwas five great furnaces and they full of souls kept there with great\nchains. So I turned short and went away; and in turning I looked\nagain at the wall and I could see no end to it.\n\nAnd another time I saw purgatory. It seemed to be in a level place\nand no walls around it, but it all one bright blaze, and the souls\nstanding in it. And they suffer near as much as in hell, only there\nare no devils with them there, and they have the hope of heaven.\n\nAnd I heard a call to me from there \"Help me to come out of this!\"\nAnd when I looked it was a man I used to know in the army, an\nIrishman and from this country, and I believe him to be a descendant\nof King O'Connor of Athenry. So I stretched out my hand first but\nthen I called out \"I'd be burned in the flames before I could get\nwithin three yards of you.\" So then he said, \"Well, help me with your\nprayers,\" and so I do.\n\n\n\n\n VII\n\n APPEARANCES\n\n\n\n\n VII\n\n APPEARANCES\n\n\n_When I had begun my search for folk-lore, the first to tell me he\nhimself had seen the Sidhe was an old, perhaps half-crazed man I will\ncall Michael Barrett_ (_for I do not give the real names either of\nthose who are living or who have left living relatives_). _I had one\nday asked an old woman who had been spinning wool for me, to be made\ninto frieze by our weavers, if she had ever seen the faery host. She\nsaid, \"I never saw them myself nor I don't think much of them; it is\nGod that takes us or leaves us as He will. But a neighbouring man was\nstanding in my door last night, and there's no day of the year he\ndoesn't hear them or feel them._\n\n\"_It's in his head I think it does be, and when he stood in the door\nlast night I said 'the wind does be always in my ears and the sound of\nit never stops,' to make him think it was the same with him. But he\nsaid, 'I hear them singing and making music all the time, and one of\nthem's after bringing out a little flute, and it's on it he's playing\nto them.' Sure he has half his chimney pulled down, where they used to\nbe sitting and singing to him day and night. But those that are born\nin the daytime never have power to see or hear them all their life._\"\n\n_Another neighbour talked to me of him and said, \"One night he was\nwalking across the bog, and a lurcher, a bastard hound, with him. And\nsomething ran across the path in the shape of a white cat, and the\nlurcher went after him, and Barrett went home and to bed and left the\ndoor open for the lurcher to come in. And in the morning they found it\nthere, lying under the table, and it paralysed and not able to stir.\nBut after a few months it got better, and one night they were crossing\nthe bog again and the same thing ran across their path, and this time\nin the form of a deer. But the dog wouldn't follow it again, but shrank\nbehind Barrett until such time as it had passed by.\"_\n\n_My spinning woman, coming another time with chickens to sell, said,\n\"Barrett is after telling me this morning that they were never so bad\nas these last two nights. 'Friday fine-day' is what they say now, in\nIrish, and he got no sleep till he threatened to throw dirty water\nover them. The poor man, they do say they are mostly in his head now,\nbut sure he was a fine fresh man twenty years ago, the night he saw\nthem all linked in two lots, like slips of girls walking together.\nAnd it was that very same day that Hession's little girl got a touch\nfrom them. She was as fine a little girl as ever you saw, and her\nmother sent her into Gort to do a message. And on the road she met a\nred-haired woman, with long wisps of hair as bright as silver, and\nshe said, 'Where are you going and who are you?' 'I'm going to Gort\non a message,' says she, 'and I'm Mrs. Hession's daughter of such a\nplace.' Well, she came home, and that very night she got a pain in\nher thigh, with respects to you, and she and her mother have half the\nworld walked since then, trying to get relief for her; but never a\nbit better did she ever get. And no doubt at all but that's the very\nsame day Michael Barrett saw them in the field near Hession's house.\"_\n\n_I asked Mr. Yeats to come with me to see the old man, and we walked\nup the long narrow lane, from which we could see Slieve Echtge and\nthe Burren hills, to the little cabin with its broken chimney where\nMichael Barrett told us of those that had disturbed his rest. This\nwas the first time we went together to enquire into the Hierarchy of\nthe Sidhe, of which by degrees we have gathered so much traditional\nand original knowledge._\n\n_As to old Barrett, I saw him from time to time, and he told me he was\nstill \"tormented,\" and that \"there is one that sat and sang b-b-b all\nthe night\" til a few evenings before he had got a bit of rag and tied\nit to a long stick, and hit at him when he came, and drove him out\nwith the rest. And in the next spring I heard he was ill, and that \"on\nSaturday he had been told by three he was to die.\" When I visited him I\nfound him better, and he said that since the warning on Saturday they\nhad left him alone \"and the children that used to be playing about with\nthem have gone to some other place; found the house too cold for them\nmaybe.\" That was the last time I saw him; I am glad I had been able to\nhelp him to more warmth and comfort before the end._\n\n_I asked the old man's brother, a labourer, what he thought of\nMichael's visions, but he made little of them. \"Old he is, and it's\nall in the brain the things he does be talking of. If it was a young\nman told us of them we might believe him, but as to him, we pay no\nattention to what he says at all. Those things are passed away, and\nyou--I beg your pardon for using that word--a person--hears no more\nof them._\n\n\"_John Casey saw queer things? So he might. Them that travel by\nnight, why wouldn't they see queer things? But they'd see nothing if\nthey went to their bed quiet and regular._\n\n\"_Lydon that had the contract for the schoolhouse, we didn't mind much\nwhat he said happened him the night he slept there alone, and in the\nmorning he couldn't stir across the floor from the place where he was.\nBut who knows? Maybe he had too much drink taken before he went to bed.\nIt was no wonder in the old times if there was signs and the like where\nmurder had been. But that's come to an end, and time for it._\n\n\"_There's another man, one Doran, has the same dreams and thoughts\nas my brother, and he leaves pieces of silver on the wall; and when\nthey're took--it's the faeries! But myself I believe it's the boys do\nbe watching him._\n\n\"_No, these things are gone from the world, and there's not the same\ndread of death there used to be. When we die we go to judgment, and\nthe places we'll get there, they won't be the same as what we had\nhere. The charitable, the kind-hearted, lady or gentleman, who'd\nhave a chance if they didn't? But the tyrants and schemers, what\nchance will there be for the like of them?_\"\n\n\"_You will have a good place there, Barrett, you and John Farrell.\nYou have done your work better than most of us through all your life,\nand it's likely you'll be above us there._\"\n\n\"_I did my work all my life, fair and honest every day; and now that\nI'm old, I'll keep on the same track to the last. Like a horse that\nmight be racing at Galway racecourse or another, there might be eight\nleaps or ten leaps he might be frightened at; but when he's once over\nthe last leap there's no fear of him. Why would he fail then, with\nthe winning post so near at hand?_\"\n\n\n_I was told by A Gatekeeper:_\n\nThere was once a family, the O'Hagans living in Dromore Hill, that now\nbelongs to you, well-to-do people. And one day the son that had been\nat college was coming back, and there was a great dinner being made in\nthe house. And a girl was sent off to a spring by the forth to get some\nwater, and when she passed by the forth, she heard like the crying of\na child and some one said to it \"Nothing given to us today, no milk\nspilled for us, nothing laid out for us, but tonight we'll have what we\nwant and there will be waste and overflow.\" And that evening the young\nman that was coming home got a fall from his horse, and was killed, and\nall the grand things for the dinner were thrown about and went to loss.\nSo never begrudge the drop of milk you'll spill, or the bit you'll let\nfall, it might turn all to good in the end.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night at the house below it was just getting dark, and a man came\nin the gate and to the door and came in and fell down on a chair.\nAnd when I saw him shaking and his face so white, I thought it was\nthe _fear gortha_ (the hungry grass) he had walked on, and I called\nto the wife to give him something to eat. But he would take nothing\nbut a cup of water with salt in it, and when he got better he told us\nthat when he was passing the big tree a man and a woman came out and\ncame along with him. They didn't speak but they walked on each side\nof him, and then the woman seemed to go away, but the man's step was\nwith him till he came in at the gate.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a girl of the Heniffs brought the dinner one day to where\nthe men were working near where the river rises at Coole. And when she\nhad left the dinner she began to gather kippeens, and put them in her\nshawl, and began to twist a rope of the ends of it to tie them up. And\nat that moment she was taken up, and where she found herself was in\nGalway, sitting in the Square. And she had no money, and she began to\nthink of the friends she had there and to say, \"If they knew where I\nwas they'd give me money to bring me back.\" And in those days there was\na coach that ran from Galway to Kiltartan, and she found herself in it,\nand it starting, and it left her safe and sound again at home.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nThere was a girl at Tyrone was bringing back some apples out of the\ngarden there. And on the road she met a man, and she thought that he\nwas one of the old St. Georges, and he asked where did she get the\napples, and bid her put them down in the road, and when she opened the\nbundle they were all turned to eggs. So she put them up again and\nbrought them home, and when she and her mother looked at them in the\nhouse they were beginning to crack, and the chickens to put their beaks\nthrough them; so they put them in the corner of the kitchen for the\nnight, and in the morning when they went to look at them they were all\nturned to apples again, but they thought best not to eat them.\n\n\n_A Munster Woman:_\n\nThere was a woman I knew in County Limerick, near Foynes--Mrs.\nDoolan, a nurse. She was called out of bed one night by a small man\nwith a lamp, and he led her to a place she had never seen before,\nand into a house, and there was a woman in a bed and the child was\nborn after she came. And I always heard her say it was a faery she\nattended. And the man led her back and gave her a sovereign, and bid\nher change it before sunrise.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd I know a boy lived on Lord Dunraven's property, one of a family\nof large farmers, and he had a settle-bed in the kitchen, and one\nnight he saw the kitchen full of them, and they making up the fire\nand cooking, and they set out the table and ate at it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI often heard they'd fight in November at the time of harvest, and\nmy father told me that in the year of the famine there was great\nfighting heard up in the sky, and they were crying out, \"Black\npotatoes, black potatoes, we'll have them now.\" I suppose it was one\ntribe of them fighting against another for them. And the oats in that\nyear were all black as well as the potatoes.\n\n\n_A Clare Man:_\n\nI saw them myself one night I was going to Ennis with a load of\nstraw. It was when we came to Bunnahow and the moon was shining, and\nI was on the top of the load of straw, and I saw them in a field.\nJust like jockeys they were, and riding horses, red clothes and caps\nthey had like a jockey would have, but they were small. They had a\nscreen of bushes put up in the field and some of the horses would\njump over it, and more of them would baulk when they'd be put to it.\nThe men that were with me didn't see them, they were walking in the\nroad, but they heard the sound of the horses.\n\n\n_Another Clare Man:_\n\nI heard a churning one time in the hill up by the road beyond. I was\ncoming back from Kinvara, and I heard it plain, no mistake about it.\nI was sorry after I didn't call down and ask for a drink. Johnny Moon\ndid so, and got it. If you wish for a drink and they put it out for\nyou, it's no harm to take it, but if you refuse it, some harm might\nhappen to you. Johnny Henderson often told that he heard churning in\nthat spot, but I wouldn't believe the sun rising from him, he had so\nmany lies. But after that, I said, \"Well, Johnny Henderson has told\nthe truth for once anyhow.\"\n\n\n_A Miller:_\n\nThere was Tom Gantly one evening was going to Coole, and he heard a\nstep behind him and it followed him every bit of the way, till he got\nto the hall door of Coole House; but he could see nothing.\n\nHe saw a gig one night on the road there by the wall and it full of\nladies laughing and grandly dressed--the best of hats and feathers\nthey had. And it turned and passed him a second time. And with the\nfright he got, he never would pass that bit of road by himself again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere were two men went one night to catch rabbits in that field\nyou have let now to Father Fahy, and the one next it. And when they\nwere standing there they heard a churning below. So they went on a\nlittle way, and they heard a tambourine below, music going on and the\nbeating of a drum. So they moved a little farther on and then they\nheard the sound of a fiddle from below. So they came home and caught\nno rabbits that night.\n\n\n_J. Creevy:_\n\nMay is a great time with these strangers, and November is a bad\nmonth for them, and this month you're in now. I was trying the\nother day in the town to get a marriage made up for a girl that was\nseduced--and the family wouldn't have it this month because of that.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night on the Kiltartan road I saw a flock of wool by the road\nside, and I gave a kick at it and it didn't move, and then another\nkick and it didn't move. So it can have been no natural thing.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd Lee told me that one night he saw red men riding through the\ncountry and going over ditches.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time I was sick in the bed and I heard music, and I sat up and\nsaid: \"Is it music I hear, or is it the squealing of pigs?\" And they\nall said they could hear nothing. But I could hear it for a long time,\nand it the grandest I ever heard--and like a melodeon. And as to the\ntune, I couldn't tell what it was but I know that I had heard it before.\n\n\n_A Kerry Piper:_\n\nOne time in Kerry there was a coach coming after me and it passed\nbeside me, and I saw with it Mrs. Mitchell from the big house. And when\nit came near the bridge it sank into the earth, and I saw no more of it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd one time I was at Ennistymon I saw the ass-car and the woman and\nthe man out before me. I had a little ass of my own at that time,\nand I followed them thinking to overtake them, but when I was in the\nhollow they were on the hill, and when I was on the hill they were\nin the hollow. And when they got near to the bridge that is over the\nbig river, they were not to be seen. For they can never cross over a\nmering (boundary) that is a river.\n\n\n_J. Fagan:_\n\nOne time I was at a party and I didn't leave the house till 2 o'clock\nso you may think it was late in the night before I got home. And\nafter a while I looked back and I saw some one coming after me, a\nlittle old woman about so high (3 feet) and she wearing a white cap\nwith a frilled border, and a red square and a red flannel petticoat.\nI set off to run when I saw her, for at that time I had the run of\na hare, but when I got near home I looked back and she was after me\nstill. When I got inside the door I fell on my two knees. And it was\nseven years before I got the better of that fright. And from that\ntime to this I never got the run again that I used to have.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a respectable woman, Mrs. Gaynor, living in Cloon, told me\nthat whenever she went out of Cloon in the direction of Fiddane in one\npart of the road there was a woman sometimes met her, that she saw at\nno other time, and every time she'd meet her she'd spit in her face.\n\nThere is a family at Tirneevan and they were having a wedding there.\nAnd when it was going on, the wine ran short, and the spirits ran\nout and they didn't know what to do to get more, Gort being two\nmiles away. And two or three strange people came in that they had\nnever seen before. And when they found what was wanting they said\nthat they'd go get it. And in a few minutes they were back with the\nspirits and the wine--and no place to get it nearer than Gort.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a herd's house up at Burren that no one could live in. But\none Holland from Tirneevan said he'd take the place, and try how\nwould he get on there. So he went with his family, and the first\nday the daughter made the place clean and swept it, and then she\nwent out for a can of milk. And when she was coming in the door, it\nwas knocked out of her hand and spilled over her. And that evening\nwhen they sat down to their supper the door opened and eight or nine\npeople came in, and a red man among them. And they sat down and ate.\nAnd then they showed Holland one side of the room, and bid him to\nkeep it always clean, and spring water in it.\n\n\n_A Herd:_\n\nThere was a man woke about three o'clock one morning and he bade the\nservant girl go down and make the fire and put on the potatoes, where\nhe had to be going out early. So she went down and there she saw one\nof _them_ sitting by the hearth in the kitchen. So she ran upstairs\nwith the fright she got to where the man was in bed with his wife. So\nthen he went down himself, and he saw one of them sure enough sitting\nby the fire and he asked \"How did you come in?\" And he said, \"By the\nlock-hole of the door.\" And the man said, \"There's the pot full of\npotatoes and you might as well have used a few of them.\" And he said,\n\"We have them used already; and you think now they are potatoes, but\nwhen you put the pot down on the fire you'll see they are no more\nthan horse dung.\"\n\n\n_Thomas Cloonan:_\n\nOne night my father was beyond on the other side of the lake, going\nto watch an otter where the water goes away underground. And he heard\nvoices talking, and he thought one was the voice of Father Nagle\nthe parish priest of Kilbecanty, and the other the voice of Father\nHynes from Cloon that does be late out fishing for eels. And when he\ncame to where the voices were, there was no one at all in it. And\nhe went and sat in the cave, where the water goes under, and there\nwas a great noise like as if planks were being thrown down overhead.\nAnd you may think how frightened he was when he never took off his\nboots to cross the river, but run through it just as he was and never\nstopped till he got to the house.\n\n\n_Mrs. Cloonan:_\n\nTwo men I saw one time over in Inchy. I was sitting milking the cow\nand she let a snore and I looked up and I saw the two men, small men,\nand their hands and their feet the smallest ever I saw, and hats\nturned back on their heads, but I did not see their faces. Then the\ncow rose her foot, and I thought, \"it will be worse for me if she'll\nput her foot down on me,\" and I looked at her, and when I looked up\nagain they were gone. Mrs. Stafford told me it was not for me they\ncame, but for the cow, Blackberry, that died soon after.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man in Gort was brought for a while to Tir-na-Og, that is\na part of heaven.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMcGarrity that was coming back one night to the new house beyond\nthe lake saw two children, two little girls they were, standing\nbeside the house. Paddy told me that, and he said they came there to\nforetell him he was stopping there too late.\n\n\n_John Phelan:_\n\nI never saw them nor felt them all my life, and I walking the place\nnight and day, except one time when for twelve nights I slept in the\nlittle house beyond, in the kitchen garden where the apples were being\nrobbed that time because there was no one living at home. In the\nnight-time in the loft above my head I used to hear a scratching and\na scraping, and one time a plank that was above in it began to move\nabout. But I had no fear but stopped there, but I did not put off my\nclothes nor stretch myself on the bed for twelve nights. They say that\none man that slept in the same house was found in the morning choked in\nhis bed and the door locked that they had to burst it in.\n\nAnd in old Richard Gregory's time there was one Horan slept there,\nand one night he ran out of it and out of the Gort gate and got no\nleave to put his clothes on. But there's some can see those things\nand more that can't, and I'm one of those that can't. Walking Coole\ndemesne I am these forty years, days and nights, and never met\nanything worse than myself.\n\nBut one night standing by the vinery and the moon shining, on a\nsudden a wind rose and shook the trees and rattled the glass and the\nslates, and no wind before, and it stopped as sudden as it came. And\nthere were two bunches of grapes gone, and them that took them took\nthem by the chimney and no other way.\n\n\n_James Hill:_\n\nOne night since I lived here I found late at night that a black jennet\nI had at that time had strayed away. So I took a lantern and went to\nlook for him, and found him near Doherty's house at the bay. And when\nI took him by the halter, I put the light out and led him home. But\nsurely as I walked there was a footstep behind me all the way home.\n\nI never rightly believed in them till I met a priest about two years\nago coming out from the town that asked his way to Mrs. Canan's,\nthe time she was given over, and he told me that one time his horse\nstopped and wouldn't pass the road, and the man that was driving\nsaid, \"I can't make him pass.\" And the priest said, \"It will be the\nworse for you, if I have to come down into the road.\" For he knew\nsome bad thing was there. And he told me the air is full of them. But\nFather Dolan wouldn't talk of such things, very proud he is, and he\ncoming of no great stock.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night I was driving outside Coole gate--close to where the\nBallinamantane farm begins. And the mare stopped, and I got off the\ncar to lead her, but she wouldn't go on. Two or three times I made\nher start and she'd stop again. Something she must have seen that I\ndidn't see.\n\nBeasts will sometimes see more than a man will. There were three\nyoung chaps I knew went up by the river to hunt coneens one evening,\nand they threw the dog over the wall. And when he was in the field he\ngave a yelp and drew back as if something frightened him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnother time my father was going early to some place, and my mother\nhad a noggin of turnips boiled for him the night before, to give him\nsomething to eat before he'd start. So they got up very early and she\nlighted the fire and put the oven hanging over it for to warm the\nturnips, and then she went back to bed again. And my father was in a\nhurry and he went out and brought in a sheaf of wheaten straw to put\nunder the oven, the way it would make a quick blaze. And when he came\nin, the oven had been taken off the hook, and was put standing in the\nhearth, and no mortal had been there. So he was afraid to stop, and\nhe went back to the bed, and till daybreak they could hear something\nthat was knocking against the pot. And the servant girl that was in\nthe house, she awoke and heard quick steps walking to the stable, and\nthe door of it giving a screech as if it was being opened. But in the\nmorning there was no sign there or of any harm being done to the pot.\n\nThen the girl remembered that she had washed her feet the night\nbefore, and had never thought to throw out the water. And it's well\nknown to wash the feet and not to throw the water out, brings some\nharm--except you throw fire into the vessel it stands in.\n\n\n_Simon Niland:_\n\nLate one night I was out walking, and a gun in my hand, and I was\ngoing down a little avenue of stones, and I heard after me the noise\nof a horse's steps. So I stopped and sat down on the stile, for I\nthought, the man that's with the horse, I'll have his company a bit\nof the way. But the noise got louder like as if it was twenty horses\ncoming, and then I was knocked down, and I put out my foot to save\nthe gun from being broken. But when I got up there was no hurt on me\nor on the gun, and the noise was all gone, and the place quiet. It\nwas maybe four year after that or six, I was walking the same path\nwith the priest and a few others, for a whale had come ashore, and\nthe jaw-bones of it were wanted to make the piers of a gate. And the\npriest said to me, \"Did you ever hear of the battle of Troy?\" \"I\ndidn't hear but I read about it,\" says I. \"Well,\" says he, \"there was\na man at that time called Simon, and they found that whenever he came\nout with them to fight there was luck with them, and when he wasn't\nwith them, there'd be no luck. And that's why we put you in front of\nus, to lead us on the path, you having the same name.\" So that put\nit in my head, and I told him about what happened that night, and I\nsaid, \"Now would you believe that?\" \"I would,\" says he. \"And what are\nsuch things done by?\" says I. \"The fallen angels,\" he said, \"for they\nhave power to do such things and to raise wind and storm, but yet\nthey have the hope of salvation at the last.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne clear night and the moon shining, I was walking home down this\nroad, and I had a strong dog at that time. And just here where you\nstand he began to bark at something and he made rushes at it, and\nmade as if he was worrying it, but I could see nothing, though if it\nhad been even the size of a rat I must have seen it, the night was\nso clear. And I had to leave him at last and heard him barking and I\nwas at the house-door before he came up with me.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI know a good many on the island have seen _those_, but they wouldn't\nsay what they are like to look at, for when they see them their\ntongue gets like a stone.\n\n\n_Mrs. Hynes of Slieve Echtge:_\n\nWhen you see a blast of wind pass, pick a green rush and throw it\nafter them, and say, \"God speed you.\" There they all are, and maybe\nthe _stroke lad_ at the end of them.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a neighbour of mine in late with me one night, and when he\nwas going home, just as he passed that little road you see, a big\nman came over the wall in front of him, and was growing bigger as he\nwent, till he nearly fainted with the fright he got.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey can do everything. They can raise the wind, and draw the storm.\n\nAnd to Drogheda they go for wine, for the best wine is in the cellars\nthere.\n\n\n_An Islander:_\n\nOne night I and another lad were coming along the road, and the dog\nbegan to fight, as if he was fighting another dog, but we could see\nnothing and we called him off but he wouldn't come. And when we got\nhome he answered us, and he seemed as if tired out.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a strange woman came to this island one day and told some\nof the women down below what would happen to them. And they didn't\nbelieve her, she being a stranger, but since that time, it's all been\ncoming true.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nI knew a woman that every night after she went to bed used to see\nsome sort of a shadow that used to appear to her. So she went to some\nold woman, and she told her to sprinkle holy water about and to put a\nblackthorn stick beside her bed. So she got the stick and put it there\nand sprinkled the holy water, and it never appeared since then. Three\nsorts of holy water she got, from the priest and from the friars and\nfrom some blessed well. And she has them in three pint bottles in the\nwindow, and she'd kill you if you so much as looked at them.\n\n\n_A Fisherman:_\n\nI never saw anything myself, but one day I was going over the fields\nnear Killeen, and it the quietest day of summer you ever saw. And\nall of a sudden I heard a great noise like thunder, and a blast of\nwind passed by me that laid the thistles low, and then all was quiet\nagain. It might be that they were changing, for they change from\nplace to place.\n\nI would not give in to faeries myself but for one thing. There was a\nlittle boy of my own, and there was a wedding going to be here, and\nthere was no bread in the house, and none to be had in Kilcolgan, and\nI bade him to go to Kinvara for bread. I pulled out the ass-car for\nhim and he set out.\n\nAnd from that time he was never the same, and now he is in the asylum\nat Ballinasloe.\n\nDid he tell what happened? He never told me anything, but he told a\nneighbour that he met awful looking people on the road to Kinvara\njust about midnight, and that whatever they did to him, he could\nnever recover it.\n\n\n_A Carter:_\n\nOften and often I heard things. A great shouting I heard one night\ninside Coole demesne,--a hurling it must have been. Another time I\nwas passing at night-time, near Reed the weaver's, and there were\nrocks thrown at me all along the road, but they did not touch me, and\nI could not see any one thing there. But I never went that road again\nat night-time.\n\nIt's said those that die are left in the place where they lived to\ndo their penance. Often and often when I came to that house below, I\nfelt knocks under the bed, and like some one walking over it.\n\nTwo men I know were going from Gort one night, and there near the\nwall of the demesne they saw two men ploughing, and they asked one\nanother what could they be to be ploughing by night. And then they\nsaw that as they ploughed, the land was going away from them, and\nthey were gone themselves, and they saw them no more.\n\n\n_An Old Woman who was Housekeeper to the Donnellans:_\n\nI'll tell you how the fortune of the family began.\n\nIt was Tully O'Donnellan was riding home from Ballinasloe, or some\nother place, and it was raining, and he came to a river that was in\nflood, and there used to be no bridges in those times. And when he\nwas going to ride through the river, he saw the _greasa_ leprechaun\non the bank, and he offered him a lift, and he stooped down and\nlifted him up behind him on the horse.\n\nAnd when he got near where the castle was, he saw it in flames before\nhim. And the leprechaun said, \"Don't fret after it but build a new\ncastle in the place I'll show you, about a stone's throw from the\nold one.\" \"I have no money to do that,\" said Tully Donnellan. \"Never\nmind that,\" said the leprechaun, \"but do as I bid you, and you'll\nhave plenty.\" So he did as he bade him, and the morning after he went\nto live in the new castle, when he went into that room that has the\nstone with his name on it now, it was full up of gold, and you could\nbe turning it like you'd turn potatoes into a shovel. And when the\nchildren would go into the room with their father and mother, the\nnurses would put bits of wax on their shoes, the way bits of the gold\nwould stick to them. And they had great riches and smothered the world\nwith it, and they used to shoe their horses with silver. It was in\nracing they ran through it, and keeping hounds and horses and horns.\n\n\n_Old Pegs Kelly:_\n\nI seen the Sheogue but once, and that was five or six years ago, and\nI walking the railway where I was looking after my little hens that\ndo be straying. And I saw them coming along, and in a minute I was in\nthe middle of them. Shavings, and shavings, and shavings going along\nthe road as fast as they could go. And I knew there was no shavings\nto be seen this many year, since the stakes were made for the railway\ndown at Nolan's, and the carpenter that made them dead, and the shop\nwhere he made them picked clean. And I knew well they were the horses\nthe Sheogue did be riding. But some that saw them said they looked\nlike bits of paper. And I threw three stones after them and I heard\nthem cry out as they went. And that night the roof was swept off Tom\nDermot's house in Ryanrush and haystacks blown down. And John Brady's\ndaughter that was daft those many years was taken, and Tom Horan's\nlittle girl that was picking potatoes, she and her brothers together.\nShe turned black all of a minute and three days after, she was dead.\n\nThat's the only time I seen them, and that I never may again, for\nbelieve me that time I had my enough, thinking as I did that I hadn't\nmore than three minutes to live.\n\n\n_A Herd's Wife:_\n\nMartin's new wife is a fine big woman, if she is lucky. But it's not a\nlucky house. That's what happened the last wife that lost her baby and\ndied. William Martin knows well _they_ are in it, but he is a dark man\nand would say nothing. I saw them myself about the house one time, and\nI met one on the forth going through the fields; he had the appearance\nof a man in his clothes. And sometimes when I look over at Martin's\nhouse there is a very dark look like a dark cloud over it and around it.\n\n\n_The other Army Man:_\n\nThe faeries are all fallen angels. Father Folan told us from the\naltar that they're as thick as the sands of the sea all about us,\nand they tempt poor mortals. But as for carrying away women and the\nlike, there's many that says so, but they have no proof. But you have\nonly to bid them begone and they will go. One night myself I was\nafter walking back from Kinvara, and down by the wood beyond I felt\none coming beside me, and I could feel the horse that he was riding\non and the way that he lifted his legs, but they didn't make a sound\nlike the hoofs of a horse. So I stopped and turned around and said\nvery loud \"Be off!\" And he went and never troubled me after. And I\nknew a man that was dying, and one came up on his bed and he cried\nout to it, \"Get out of that, you unnatural animal!\" And it left him.\nThere's a priest I heard of that was looking along the ground like as\nif he was hunting for something, and a voice said to him \"If you want\nto see them you'll see enough of them,\" and his eyes were opened and\nhe saw the ground thick with them. Singing they do be sometimes and\ndancing, but all the time they have the cloven foot.\n\nFallen angels they are, and after they fell God said, \"Let there be\nHell, and there it was in a moment\"--(\"God save us! It's a pity He said\nthat word and there might have been no Hell today\" _murmurs the wife_).\nAnd then He asked the devil what would he take for the souls of all the\npeople. And the devil said nothing would satisfy him but the blood of a\nVirgin's Son. So he got that and then the gates of Hell were opened.\n\n\n_The Wife:_\n\nI never seen anything, although one night I was out after a cow till\n2 o'clock in the morning and old Gantly told me he wondered at me to\nbe out in this place, by the wood near the white gate where he saw a\nthing himself one night passing. But it's only them that's living in\nmortal sin can see such things, that's so Thomas, whatever you may\nsay. But your ladyship's own place is middling free from them, but\nRatlin's full of them.\n\nAnd there's many say they saw the banshee, and that if she heard you\nsinging loud, she'd be very apt to bring you away with her.\n\n\n_A Piper:_\n\nThere was an old priest I knew--Father McManus--and when he would go\nwalking in the green lawn before the house, his man, Keary, would go\nwith him, and he carrying three sticks. And after a while the priest\nwould say, \"_Cur do maide_\"--Fire your stick--as far as you can, and\nhe would throw it. And he would say the same thing a second and a\nthird time, and after that he would say, \"We have no more to protect\nus now,\" and he would go in. And another priest I was talking to the\nother day was telling me they are between earth and air and the grass\nis full of them.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nThere was a boy I knew at Tyrone was a great card player. And one\nnight about 10 o'clock he was coming home from a party, and he had\nthe cards in his hands and he shuffling them as he went along. And\npresently he saw a man before him on the road, and the man stopped\ntill he came up, and when he saw the cards, he says \"Stop here and\nI'll have a game with you,\" for the moon was shining bright. So the\nboy sat down, and the stranger asked him had he any money, and he\nsaid he had five shillings after the night's play. \"Well,\" says the\nman, \"we'll play the first game for half-a-crown.\" So they sat down\nand put out the money on a flagstone that was much like a table, and\nthey began to play, and the first game was won by the stranger. \"Well\nnow,\" says he, \"we'll have another.\" So the boy began to shuffle the\ncards, but as he did, one card dropped on the ground, and he stooped\ndown for it, and when he did, he saw the man's feet that were partly\nunder the flagstone, and they were like the feet of a cow. So with\nthe fright he got, he jumped up and began to run and never stopped\ntill he got inside his house and had the door shut. And when he had\nbeen sitting there a few minutes, a knock came to the door, and he\nheard the voice of the stranger say, \"It's well for you you ran away\nwhen you did, or you'd be where I am now.\" And he heard no more; it\nwas the boy himself told me this.\n\nI hear them in this house ever since the first night I came, in the\nkitchen, when all are in bed. Footsteps, I wouldn't think so much of,\nbut scraping the potatoes, that's another thing.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA daughter I had that went to America died there, and the brother\nthat came back told me that he was with her, and she going, and\nsurely they all heard the jennet coming to the door, and when they\nopened it, there was nothing there, and many people standing and\nwaiting about it. I knew a woman died beyond in Boher and left a\nhouse full of children and the night she died there was a light seen\nin the sick house.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTo leave a few cold potatoes, the first of them, outside, you should\nsurely do it, and not to leave the house without spring water. I knew\na boy that was sleeping up in the loft of a house and one night they\nhad forgotten to leave water within in the kitchen. And about midnight\nhe awoke and he saw through a hole in the loft two women, and one of\nthem just after having a baby. And they said, \"What way will we wash\nthe child, and no water here; we must take the pan of milk down from\nthe shelf.\" So the boy said out loud the way they'd hear him, \"I must\ngo for spring water. I forgot to leave it below.\" So he went and got\nit and left it there, and let on not to see them. And--for I forget\nwhat time after that--there was no morning he put his clothes on but\nhe'd find a half-crown in his boot. To do you harm? No, but the best of\nneighbours they are, if you don't chance to offend them.\n\n\n_A Schoolmaster:_\n\nIn Donegal one night some of the people were at a still in the\nmountains, and on a sudden they heard a shot fired, and they thought\nit was a signal given to the police, and they made home to the\nvillage. And all the night they could hear like the tramp of horses\nand of police and the noise of cars passing by, but nothing could be\nseen. And next day the police came in earnest, and searched about\nthe place where they had been at work at the still, but no one was\nthere and they found nothing. So they knew it was a warning they were\nafter being given.\n\n\n_John Madden:_\n\nOne day old Fogarty of Clough was cutting rods in Coole with a\nblack-handled knife, and he put it in his pocket, and presently he\nfelt for it and it was gone. But when he went home and went into the\nhouse, there was the knife lying on the table.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMy wife's brother was on a cock of hay in that field beyond one time,\nand he sat down to rest and he saw them hurling in red caps and blue,\nand a crowd looking in at them. But he said nothing to the men that\nwere with him. They are mostly in forths and lonesome places.\n\n\n_An old man, Kelleher, living in the Wicklow Mountains, told me and\nW. B. Yeats and Miss Pollexfen:_\n\nI often saw them when I had my eyesight; one time they came about me,\nshouting and laughing and there were spouts of water all around me.\nAnd I thought that I was coming home, but I was not on the right path\nand couldn't find it and went wandering about, but at last one of\nthem said, \"Good-evening, Kelleher,\" and they went away, and then in\na moment I saw where I was by the stile. They were very small, like\nlittle boys and girls, and had red caps.\n\nI always saw them like that, but they were bigger at the butt of the\nriver; they go along the course of the rivers. Another time they came\nabout me playing music and I didn't know where I was going, and at\nlast one of them said the same way, \"Good evening, Kelleher,\" and I\nknew that I was at the gate of the College; it is the sweetest music\nand the best that can be heard, like melodeons and fifes and whistles\nand every sort.\n\n_Mrs. Kelleher says_: I often hear that music too, I hear them\nplaying drums.\n\n_K._: We had one of them in the house for a while, it was when I\nwas living up at Ticnock, and it was just after I married that\nwoman there that was a nice slip of a girl at that time. It was in\nthe winter and there was snow on the ground, and I saw one of them\noutside, and I brought him in and put him on the dresser, and he\nstopped in the house for a while, for about a week.\n\n_Mrs. K._: It was more than that, it was two or three weeks.\n\n_K._: Ah! maybe it was--I'm not sure. He was about fifteen inches high.\nHe was very friendly. It is likely he slept on the dresser at night.\nWhen the boys at the public-house were full of porter, they used to\ncome to the house to look at him, and they would laugh to see him but\nI never let them hurt him. They said I would be made up, that he would\nbring me some riches, but I never got them. We had a cage here, I wish\nI had put him in it, I might have kept him till I was made up.\n\n_Mrs. K._: It was a cage we had for a thrush. We thought of putting\nhim into it, but he would not have been able to stand in it.\n\n_K._: I'm sorry I didn't keep him--I thought sometimes to bring him\ninto Dublin to sell him.\n\n_Mrs. K._: You wouldn't have got him there.\n\n_K._: One day I saw another of the kind not far from the house, but\nmore like a girl and the clothes greyer than his clothes, that were\nred. And that evening when I was sitting beside the fire with the\nMissus I told her about it, and the little lad that was sitting on\nthe dresser called out, \"That's Geoffrey-a-wee that's coming for\nme,\" and he jumped down and went out of the door and I never saw him\nagain. I thought it was a girl I saw, but Geoffrey wouldn't be the\nname of a girl, would it?\n\nHe had never spoken before that time. Somehow I think that he liked\nme better than the Missus. I used to feed him with bread and milk.\n\n_Mrs. K._: I was afraid of him--I was afraid to go near him, I\nthought he might scratch my eyes out--I used to leave bread and milk\nfor him but I would go away while he was eating it.\n\n_K._: I used to feed him with a spoon, I would put the spoon to his\nmouth.\n\n_Mrs. K._: He was fresh-looking at the first, but after a while he\ngot an old look, a sort of wrinkled look.\n\n_K._: He was fresh-looking enough, he had a hardy look.\n\n_Mrs. K._: He was wearing a red cap and a little red cloth skirt.\n\n_K._: Just for the world like a Highlander.\n\n_Mrs. K._: He had a little short coat above that; it was checked and\ntrousers under the skirt and long stockings all red. And as to his\nshoes, they were tanned, and you could hardly see the soles of them,\nthe sole of his foot was like a baby's.\n\n_K._: The time I lost my sight, it was a Thursday evening, and I was\nwalking through the fields. I went to bed that night, and when I rose\nup in the morning, the sight was gone. The boys said it was likely I\nhad walked on one of their paths. Those small little paths you see\nthrough the fields are made by _them_.\n\nThey are very often in the quarries; they have great fun up there,\nand about Peacock Well. The Peacock Well was blessed by a saint, and\nanother well near, that cures the headache.\n\nI saw one time a big grey bird about the cow-house, and I went to a\ncomrade-boy and asked him to come and to help me to catch it, but\nwhen we came back it was gone. It was very strange-looking and I\nthought that it had a head like a man.\n\n\n_Old Manning:_\n\nI never saw them except what I told you, the dog fighting, and I\nheard the horses, and at that same time I saw smoke coming out of\nthe ground near Foley's house at Corker, by the gate.\n\nMy mother lived for twenty years in Coole, and she often told me that\nwhen she'd pass Shanwalla hill there would people come out and meet\nher and--with respects to you--they'd spit in her face.\n\nFaeries of course there are and there's many poor souls doing their\npenance, and how do we know where they may be doing it?\n\n\n_A Farmer:_\n\nI might not believe myself there are such things but for what\nhappened not long after I was married when my first little girl\nwas but a week old. I had gone up to Ballybrit to tie some sheep\nand put fetters on them, and I was waiting for Haverty to come and\nhelp me tie them. The baby was a little unwell that day but I was\nnot uneasy about her. But while I was waiting for Haverty, a blast\nof wind came through the field and I heard a voice say quite clear\nout of it \"Katie is gone.\" That was the little one, we had called\nher Catherine, but though she wasn't a week in the world, we had it\nshortened already to Kate. And sure enough, the child got worse, and\nwe attended her through the night, and before daybreak she was gone.\n\n\n_An Army Man:_\n\nTwo nights ago a travelling man came and knocked at John Hanlon's\nhouse at 11 o'clock, where he saw a light in the window and he asked\nwould there be any one out hurling so late as that. For in coming by\nthe field beyond the chapel he saw it full of people, some on horses,\nand hurling going on, and they were all dressed like soldiers, and\nyou would hear their swords clinking as they ran. And he was not sure\nwere they faeries till he asked John Hanlon was it the custom of\npeople in this country to go hurling so late as that. But that was\nalways a great field for them. From eleven to two, that is the time\nthey have for play, but they must go away before the cock crows. And\nthe cock will crow sometimes as early as 1 o'clock, a right one.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt was in the night that Christ our Saviour rose there were some Jews\nsitting around the fire, and a cock boiling in the pot. And one of\nthem said, \"He'll never rise again until that cock crows.\" And the\ncock rose out of the pot and crowed, and he that was speaking got\nscalded with the water that was splashed about.\n\n\n_A Connemara Man:_\n\nOne night I was sleeping over there by the dresser and I heard them\n(\"Would you say the day of the week,\" _says the old woman_. \"It's\nThursday,\" said I. \"Thank you,\" _says the old man, and goes on_)--I\nheard them thick all about the house--but what they were saying I\ncouldn't know.\n\n\n_The Old Woman:_\n\nIt was my uncle that was away at nights and knew the time his horse\nfell in the ditch, and he out at sea. And another day he was working\nat the bridge and he said, \"Before this day is over, a man will be\nkilled here.\" And so it happened, and a man was killed there before\n12 o'clock. He was in here one day with me, and I said, \"I don't give\nin to you being away and such things.\" And he says: \"Um, Um, Um,\"\nthree times, and then he says, \"May your own living be long.\" We had\na horse, the grandest from this to Galway, had a foal when in this\nplace--and before long, both horse and foal died. And I often can\nhear them galloping round the house, both horse and foal. And I not\nthe only one, but many in the village even hear them too.\n\n\n_Young Mrs. Phelan:_\n\nOften I saw a light in the wood at Derreen, above Ballyturn. It would\nrise high over the trees going round and round. I'd see it maybe for\nfifteen minutes at a time, and then it would fall like a lamp.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the month of May is their chief time for changing, and it's then\nthere's blowing away of hay and such things and great disturbance.\n\n\n_A Mayo Man:_\n\nOne time I was led astray in a town, in Golden Hill in Staffordshire. I\nwas in the streets and I didn't know what way to turn all of a sudden,\nand every street looked like a wood before me, and so I went on until\nI met some man I knew, and I asked him where I was, and I went in, and\nstayed drinking with the others till 10 o'clock and I went home sober.\n\nI saw the white rabbit too at Golden Hill. (_One of the other men\nputs in_, \"There is always a white rabbit seen there, that turns into\na woman before any misfortune happens, such as an accident.\") I was\nwalking along the road, and it ran beside me, and then I saw a woman in\nwhite before me on the road, and when I got to her, she was gone. And\nthat evening a woman in a house near by fell dead on her own doorstep.\n\nAnother time near this, I was passing the barn where Johnny Rafferty\nthe carpenter and his son used to be working, but it was shut and\nlocked and no one in it. But when I came near it, I felt as if I was\nwalking on wood, and my hair stood up on my head, and I heard the\nnoise of tools, and hammering and sawing in it.\n\n\n_Pete Heffernan:_\n\nOld Doran told me that he was near Castle Hacket one time and saw\nthem having a fair, buying and selling for all the world like\nourselves, common people. But you or I or fifty others might have\nbeen there like him and not seen them. It's only them that are born\nat midnight that has the second sight.\n\nFallen angels, they say they are. And they'd do more harm than what\nthey do but for the hope they have that some day they may get to\nheaven. Very small they are, and go into one another so that what you\nsee might only be a sort of a little bundle. But to leave a couple of\ncold potatoes about at night one should always do it, and to sweep\nthe hearth clean. Who knows when they might want to come in and warm\nthemselves.\n\nNot to keep the water you wash your feet in in the house at night,\nnot to throw it out of the door where it might go over them, but to\ntake it a bit away from the house, and if by any means you can, to\nkeep a bit of light burning at night, if you mind these three things\nyou'll never be troubled with them.\n\nThat woman of mine was going to Mass one day early and she met a small\nlittle man, and him with a book in his hand. \"Where are you going?\"\nsays he. \"To the chapel beyond,\" says she. \"Well,\" says he, \"you'd\nbetter take care not to be coming out at this hour and disturbing\npeople,\" says he. And when she got into the chapel she saw him no more.\n\n\n_An Old Woman with Oysters from Tyrone:_\n\nOh, I wouldn't believe in the faeries, but it's no harm to believe in\nfallen angels!\n\n\n_Mrs. Day:_\n\nMy own sons are all for education and read all books and they\nwouldn't believe now in the stories the old people used to tell. But\nI know one Finnegan and his wife that went to Esserkelly churchyard\nto cry over her brother that was dead. And all of a sudden there\ncame a pelt of a stone against the wall of the old church and no one\nthere. And they never went again, and they had no business to be\ncrying him and it not a funeral.\n\nFrancis, my son that's away now, he was out one morning before the\ndaybreak to look at a white heifer in the field. And there he saw a\nlittle old woman, and she in a red cloak--crying, crying, crying. But\nhe wouldn't have seen that if he had kept to natural hours.\n\nThere were three girls near your place, and they went out one time\nto gather cow-dung for firing. And they were sitting beside a small\nlittle hill, and while they were there, they heard a noise of churning,\nchurning, in the ground beneath them. And as they listened, all of a\nminute, there was a naggin of milk standing beside them. And the girl\nthat saw it first said, \"I'll not drink of it lest they might get power\nover me.\" But the other girl said, \"I'll bring it home and drink it.\"\nAnd she began to ridicule them. And because of she ridiculing them and\nnot believing in them, that night in bed she was severely beaten so\nthat she wasn't the better of it for a long time.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOften they'll upset a cart in the middle of the road, when there's no\nstone nor anything to upset it. And my father told me that sometimes\nafter he had made the hay up into cocks, and on a day without a\nbreath of wind, they'd find it all in the next field lying in wisps.\nOne time too the cart he was driving went over a leprechaun--and the\nold woman in the cart had like to faint.\n\n\n_Mr. Hosty of Slieve Echtge:_\n\nI never would have believed the shadow of a soul could have power,\ntill that hurling match I saw that I told you about.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt was in the old time it happened, that there was war in heaven. He\nthat was called the brightest of the angels raised himself up against\nGod. And when they were all to be thrown out, St. Michael spoke up\nfor them for he saw that when the heavens were weeded out they'd be\nleft without company. So they were stopped in the falling, in the air\nand in the earth and in the sea. And they are about us sure enough,\nand whenever they'll be saved I don't know, but it is not for us to\nsay what God will do in the end.\n\nI often heard that our winter is their summer--sure they must have\nsome time for setting their potatoes and their oats. But I remember a\nvery old man used to say when he saw the potatoes black, that it was\nto them they were gone. \"Sure\" he used to say, \"the other world must\nhave its way of living as well as ourselves.\"\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nDolan I was talking to the other day, and I asked him if faeries used\nnot to be there. And he said, \"They're in it yet. There where you're\nstanding, they were singing and dancing a few nights ago. And the\nsame evening I saw two women down by the lake, and I thought it was\nthe ladies from the house gone out for a walk, but when I came near,\nit was two strange women I saw, sitting there by the lake, and their\nwings came, and they vanished into the air.\"\n\n\n_John Phelan:_\n\nI was cutting trees in Inchy one time. And at 8 o'clock one morning\nwhen I got there, I saw a girl picking nuts with her hair hanging\ndown over her shoulders, brown hair, and she had a good clean face\nand was tall and nothing on her head, and her dress was no way gaudy,\nbut simple. And when she felt me coming, she gathered herself up and\nwas gone as if the earth had swallowed her up. And I followed her\nand looked for her, but I never could see her again from that day to\nthis, never again.\n\n\n_Mary Shannon:_\n\nThere was a herd's house near Loughrea that had a bad name; and a\nstrange woman came in one time and told the woman of the house that\nshe must never throw dirty water out of the back-door. \"For,\" said\nshe, \"if you had clean linen hanging there on a line before the fire,\nhow would you like any one to come in and to throw dirty water over\nit?\" And she bid her leave food always on the dresser. \"For,\" said\nshe, \"wherever you leave it we'll be able to find it.\" And she told\nhow they often went into Loughrea to buy things, and provisions,\nand would look like any other person, and never be known, for they\ncan make themselves visible or invisible as they like. You might\nbe talking to one of them and never know she was different from\nanother. At our place there used to be a good many of these people\nabout, these Ingentry women or women from the North we sometimes call\nthem. There was one came into the house one day and told my mother\nshe didn't get all her butter in the milk. And she told her the\nservant-girl was stealing and hiding some of it, for in these days\nservants were cheap and we kept a couple; you'd get them for about\nfive shillings a quarter. And my mother went to look, and then she\nwent out of the house, and went off in a minute in a blast. And the\nhusband that was coming into the house, he never saw her at all, and\nshe going out of the door.\n\nSunset is a bad hour, and just before sunrise in the morning, and\nabout 12 o'clock in the day, it's best not to be too busy or going\nabout too much.\n\n\n_An Aran Man:_\n\nSometimes they travel like a cloud, or like a storm. One day I was\nsetting out the manure in my own garden and they came and rolled it\nin a heap and tossed it over the wall, and carried it out to sea\nbeyond the lighthouse.\n\n\n_Mr. Finnerty:_\n\nPeople say two days of the week, they name two days. Some say Thursday,\nand some say whatever day it is, and the day before it, and then they\ncan't be heard. In the village beyond, there were a good many people in\na house one night, and lights in it, and talking, and of a sudden some\none opened the door--and there outside and round the house _they_ were\nlistening to them--and when the door was open they were all seen, and\nmade off as thick as crows to the forth near the Burren hills.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was one Ward was walking one night near Castle Taylor, and in\nthat big field that's near the corner where Burke was murdered he saw\na big fire, and a lot of people round about it, and among them was a\ngirl he used to know that had died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLast week in that field beyond there, the hay was all taken up, and\nturned into the next field in wisps.\n\n * * * * *\n\nYou must put the potatoes out for them before they are put on the\ntable, for they would not touch them if they had been touched by\ncommon persons.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd I saw Horan that had the orchard here bought run to our house in\nthe middle of the night naked with nothing on but his trousers, where\nhe was after being beat out of the house in the kitchen garden.\nEvery night when he was going to bed there did a knocking come in the\nloft over his head, but he gave no attention to it. But a great storm\ncame and a great lot of the apples was blown down and he gathered\nthem up and filled the loft with them, thinking when he showed them\nto get compensation. And that is the night he was beat out of bed.\nAnd John Phelan knows well what things used to be in that house.\n\n\n_John Creevy:_\n\nMy father? Yes indeed he saw many things, and I tell you a thing he\ntold me, and there's no doubt in the earthly world about it. It was\nwhen they lived at Inchy they came over here one time for to settle\na marriage for Murty Delvin's aunt. And when they had the business\nsettled, they were going home again at dead of night. And a man was\nafter getting married that day, one Delane from beyond Kilmacduagh,\nand the drag was after passing the road with him and his party going\nhome. And all of a minute the road was filled with men on horses\nriding along, so that my father had to take shelter in Delane's\nbig haggard by the roadside. And he heard the horsemen calling on\nDelane's name. And twenty-one days after, Delane lay dead.\n\nThere's no doubt at all about the truth of that, and they were no\nriders belonging to this world that were on those horses.\n\n\n_Thomas Brown:_\n\nThere was a woman walking in the road that had a young child at home,\nand she met a very old man, having a baby in his arms. And he asked\nwould she give it a drop of breast-milk. So she did, and gave it a\ndrink. And the old man said: \"It's well for you that you did that, for\nyou saved your cow by it. But tomorrow look over the wall into the\nfields of the rich man that lives beyond the boundary, and you'll see\nthat one of his was taken in the place of yours.\" And so it happened.\n\nIn the old times there used to be many stories of such things, half\nthe world seemed to be on the _other side_.\n\nI used not to believe in them myself, until one night I heard them\nhurling. I was coming home from town with Jamsie Flann; we were not\ndrunk but we were hearty. Coming along the road beyond we heard them\nhurling in the field beside us. We could see nothing but we'd hear\nthem hit the ball, and it fly past us like the lightning, so quick,\nand when they hit the goal, we heard a moan--\"Oh! ah!\"--that was\nall. But after we went a little way we sat down by a little hill to\nrest, and there we heard a thousand voices talking. What they said,\nwe couldn't understand, or the language, but we knew that it was one\nside triumphing over the other.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut the nights are queer--surely they are queer by sea or by land.\nThere was a friend of mine told me he was out visiting one night,\nand coming home across the fields he came into a great crowd of them.\nThey did him no harm, and among them he saw a great many he knew,\nthat were dead, five or six out of our own village. And he was in his\nbed for two months after that, and he told the priest of it. He said\nhe couldn't understand the talk, it was like the hissing of geese,\nand there was one very big man, that seemed the master of them, and\nhis talk was like you'll hear in a barrel when it's being rolled.\n\nThere's a hill, Cruach-na-Sheogue down by the sea, and many have seen\nthem there dancing in the moonlight.\n\nThere was a man told me he was passing near it one night, and the\nwalls on each side of the road were all covered with people sitting\non them, and he walked between, and they said nothing to him. And he\nknew many among them that were dead before that. Is it only the young\ngo there? Ah, how do we know what use they may have for the old as\nwell as for the young?\n\nThere are but few in these days that die right. The priests know\nabout this more than we do, but they don't like to be talking of\n_them_ because they might be too big in our minds.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey are just the same in America as they are here, and my sister\nthat came home told me they were, and the women that do cures, just\nlike the woman at Clifden, or that woman you know of.\n\nThere was one she went to out there, and when you'd come in to ask a\ncure she'd be lulled into a sleep, and when she woke she'd give the\ncure. _Away_ she was while the sleep lasted.\n\n\n_The Spinning Woman:_\n\nNo, I never seen them myself, and I born and bred in the same village\nas Michael Barrett. But the old woman that lives with me, she does\nbe telling me that before she came to this part she was going home\none night, where she was tending a girl that was sick, and she had to\ncross a hill forth. And when she came to it, she saw a man on a white\nhorse, and he got to the house before her, and the horse stopped at\nthe back-door. And when she got there and went in, sure enough the\ngirl was gone.\n\nI never saw anything myself, but one night I was passing the boreen\nnear Kinvara, and a tall man with a tall hat and a long coat came out\nof it. He didn't follow me, but he looked at me for a while, and then\nhe went away.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd one time I saw the leprechaun. It's when I was a young woman,\nand there was black frieze wanting at Ballylee, and in those days\nthey all thought there could no black frieze be spun without sending\nfor me. So I was coming home late in the evening, and there I saw\nhim sitting by the side of the road, in a hollow between two ridges.\nHe was very small, about the height of my knee, and wearing a red\njacket, and he went out of that so soon as he saw me. I knew nothing\nabout him at that time. The boys say if I'd got a hold of his purse\nI'd be rich for ever. And they say he should have been making boots;\nbut he was more in dread of me than I of him, and had his instruments\ngathered up and away with him in one second.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere used to be a lot of things seen, but someway the young people\ngo abroad less at night, and I'm thinking the souls of some of\n_those_ may be delivered by this time.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a boy looked out of the door, and he saw a woman milking\nthe cow. But after, when he went to milk her, he found as much milk\nas ever there was.\n\n\n_Mrs. Phelan:_\n\nThere was a woman at Kilbecanty was out one evening and she saw a\nwoman dressed in white come after her, and when she looked again she\nhad disappeared into a hole in the wall. Small she must have grown\nto get into that. And for eleven days after that, she saw the same\nappearance, and after eleven days she died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was another woman lived at Kilbecanty, just beside the\nchurchyard, you can see the house yet. And one day she found a plate\nof food put in at the door, the best of food, meat and other things.\nSo she eat it and the next day the same thing happened. And she told\na neighbouring woman about it, and she left her door open, and a\nplate of food was left in to her that night. But when she saw it she\nwas afraid to eat it, but took it and threw it out. And the next day\nshe died. But the woman that eat the food, nothing happened to her.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was one Halloran took that farm on the road beyond one time,\nbut he locked the house up, not meaning to go and live in it yet a\nwhile, and he kept the key in his pocket. But one night late he was\ncoming by and he saw a light in the window and looked in, and he saw\na woman sitting by a fire she was after lighting. So he ran away and\nnever went to live in the house after.\n\nOne night myself coming back from Kelly's I saw a man by the side of\nthe road, and I knew him to be one Cuniff that had died a year before.\n\nThere were two men stealing apples in a garden, and when they tried\nto get out there was a soldier at the door with a sword in his hand.\nAnd at the door there he was still before them; so they had to leave\nthe two bags of apples behind.\n\n\n_W. Sullivan:_\n\nOne night myself I was driving the jennet I had at that time to\nCappagh and I went past a place one Halvey had bought and I saw a man\nhaving a white front to his shirt standing by the wall, and I said\nto myself, \"Halvey is minding this place well,\" and I went on, and I\nsaw the man following me, and the jennet let a roar and kicked at me,\nand at that time we passed a stile, and I saw him no more.\n\n\n_Mrs. Barrett:_\n\nI don't know did old Michael see anything or was it in his head. But\nJames, the brother that died, told me one time that he was crossing\nthe way beyond from Brennan's, where the stones are. And there he saw\na hurling going on. He never saw a field so full before. And he stood\nand watched them and wasn't a bit frightened, but the dog that was\nwith him shrank between his legs and stopped there.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd my father told me that one time he was stopping with my uncle, up\nthere near Mrs. Quaid's, in a house that's pulled down since. And he\nwoke up and saw the night so bright that he went out. And there he\nsaw a hurling going on, and they had boots like soldiers and were all\nshining with the brightness of the night.\n\nAnd Micky Smith, God rest his soul, saw them at midday passing in the\nair above Cahir, as thick as birds.\n\n\n_A Gate-keeper:_\n\nNiland that met the coach that time and saw them other times, he told\nme that there were two sets among them. The one handsome and tall\nand like the gentry; the others more like ourselves, he said, and\nshort and wide, and the body starting out in front, and wide belts\nabout their waists. Only the women he saw, and they were wearing\nwhite caps with borders, and their hair in curls over the forehead\nand check aprons and plaid shawls. They are the spiteful ones that\nwould do you a mischief, and others that are like the gentry would do\nnothing but to laugh and criticize you.\n\nOne night myself I was outside Loughrea on the road, about 1 o'clock\nin the morning and the moon was shining. And I saw a lady, a true lady\nshe was, dressed in a sort of a ball dress, white and short in the\nskirt, and off the shoulders. And she had long stockings and dancing\nshoes with short uppers. And she had a long thin face, and a cap on her\nhead with frills, and every one of the frills was the breadth of my six\nfingers. As to flowers or such things, I didn't notice, for I was more\nfixed in looking at the cap. I suppose they wore them at balls in some\nancient times. I followed her a bit, and then she crossed the road to\nJohnny Flanigan the joiner's house, that had a gate with piers. And I\nwent across after her, to have a better view, and when she got to the\npier she shrank into it and there was nothing left.\n\n * * * * *\n\nJohnny Kelly that lives in Loughrea was over here one evening, where\nhe had some cattle on the land at Coole. And where the river goes\naway, he saw two ladies sitting, ladies he thought them to be, and\nthey had long dresses. And they rose up and went on to that hole\nwhere the water is and the trees. And there all of a sudden they rose\na storm and went up in it, with a sort of a roar or a cry and passed\naway through the air.\n\nAnd I was in the house with my wife and I heard the cry, and I thought\nit might be some drunken man going home, and it about 10 o'clock in the\nevening. And I went to the door, and presently Kelly came in and you'd\nhave thought him a drunken man, walking and shaking as he did with the\nfright he got seeing them going off away in the storm.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nI went over to see Kate Cloran the other day, knowing that she had\nseen some of these things. And she told me that she was led astray\nby them one time--a great lot of them, they were dressed in white\nblouses and black skirts and some of them had crimson mantles, but\nnone of them had any covering on their head, and they had all golden\nhair and were more beautiful than any one she had ever seen.\n\nAnd one night she met the coach and four, and it was full of ladies,\nletting the window up and down and laughing out at her. They had\ngolden hair, or it looked so with the lights. They were dressed in\nwhite, and there were bunches of flowers about the horses' heads.\nRoses, chiefly, some pink and some blue. The coachmen were strange\nlooking, you could not say if they were men or women--and their\nclothes were more like country clothes. They kept their heads down\nthat she could not see their faces, but those in the carriage had\nlong faces, and thin, and long noses.\n\n\n_Mike Martin:_\n\nThey are of the same size as we are. People only call them diminutive\nbecause they are made so when they're sent on certain errands.\n\nThere was a man of Ardrahan used to see many things. But he lost his\neyesight after. It often happens that those that see these things\nlose their earthly sight.\n\nThe coach and four is seen by many. It appears in different forms, but\nthere is always the same woman in it. Handsome I believe she is, and\nwhite; and there she will always be seen till the end of the world.\n\nIt's best to be neighbourly with them anyway--best to be neighbourly.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman woke one night and she saw two women by the fire, and\nthey came over and tried to take away her baby. But she held him and\nshe nudged her husband with her arm, but he was fast asleep. And they\ntried him again, and all she could do wouldn't waken the husband, but\nstill she had the baby tight, and she called out a curse in the devil's\nname. So then they went away, for they don't like cursing.\n\nOne night coming home from Madden's where I was making frames with him,\nI began to tremble and to shake, but I could see nothing. And at night\nthere came a knocking at the window, and the dog I had that would fight\nany dog in Ireland began to shrink to the wall and wouldn't come out.\nAnd I looked out the door and saw him. Little clothes he had on, but on\nhis head a quarter cap, and a sort of a bawneen about him. And I would\nhave followed him, but the rest wouldn't let me.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnother time I was crossing over the stile behind Kiltartan chapel into\nCoole, and others along with me. And a great blast of wind came, and\ntwo trees were bent and broken and fell into the river, and the splash\nof water out of it went up to the skies. And those that were with me\nsaw many figures, but myself I only saw one, sitting there by the bank\nwhere the trees fell, dark clothes he had, and he was headless.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey can take all shapes and it's said a pig is the worst, but I\nbelieve if you take no notice of them and bless yourself as they\npass, they'll do you no harm at all.\n\nThere were two men walking by a forth that's beyond Cloon, and one of\nthem must have been in it at some time, for he told the other to look\nthrough his arm, and when he looked he could see thousands of people\nabout walking and driving, and ladies and gentry among them.\n\nThere was a man in Cloon and he was very religious and very devout\nand he didn't believe in anything. But one day he was at the\nPunch-bowl out on the Ennis road, and there he saw two coaches coming\nthrough the thick wood and they full of people and of ladies, and\nthey went in to the bushes on the other side. And since he saw that\nhe'd swear to _them_ being there.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman living over near Tirneevan, and one morning three\nmen came galloping up on three horses, and they stopped at the door\nand tied up the horses and walked in, and they strangers. And the\nwoman put the tongs over the cradle where the baby was sleeping, for\nthat is a _pishogue_. And when they saw the tongs, they looked at one\nanother and laughed, but they did him no harm, but pulled out the\ntable and sat down and played cards for a while, and went away again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut if they're well treated, and if you know how to humour them,\nthey're the best of neighbours.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman seen not long ago, all in white, and she standing\nin a stream washing her feet. But you need never be afraid of\nanything that's white.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman I know was away sometimes and used to go into a\nforth among them. She told me about it, and she said there were\nbig and small among them as there are here. And they wore caps like\nhurling caps, all striped with blue and different colours, and their\ndress striped the same way.\n\n\n_A Seaside Man:_\n\nThere was a girl below in Spiddal was coming home from Galway with\nher father, and just at the bridge below she saw the coach and four.\nLike a van it was, with horses, and full of gentlemen. And she tried\nto make her father see it, and he couldn't. And it passed along the\nroad, and then turned down into a field, over the stones, and it\ngot to the strand and ran along it for a while, and what became of\nit then I don't know. My father told me that one night he came from\na wake, and in the field beyond, that was all a flag then, but the\nman that owns it has it covered with earth now, he saw about twelve\nladies all in white, and they dancing round and round and a fiddler\nor a flute-player or whatever he was, in the middle. And he thought\nthey were some ladies from Spiddal, and called out to them that it\nwas late to be out dancing. And he turned to open the door of the\nhouse, and while he was turning they were gone.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man walking one night and he felt a woman come and walk\nbehind him, and she all in white. And the two of them walked on till\nsunrise, and then a cock crowed, and the man said, \"There's the cock\ncrowing.\" And she said, \"That's only a weak cock of the summer.\" And\nsoon after another cock crowed, and he asked did she hear it, and she\nsaid, \"That's but a poor cock of the harvest.\" And the third time a\ncock crowed and when the man asked her she said, \"That's a cock of\nMarch. And you're as wise as the man that doesn't tell Friday's dream\non Saturday.\" For if you dream on a Friday, you must never tell the\ndream of a Saturday.\n\n\n_Mrs. Swift:_\n\nMy mother told me, and she wouldn't tell a lie, that one time she\nwent to a wake at Ardrahan. And about 12 o'clock, the night being\nhot, she and her sister went out to the back of the house. And there\nthey saw a lot of people running as hard as they could to the house,\nand knocking down the walls as they came to them, for there were a\nlot of small stones. And she said to her sister, \"These must be all\nthe first cousins coming, and there won't be room to sit in the house\nwhen they come in.\" So they hurried back. But no one ever came in or\ncame to the door at all.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey are said to be outside the door there often. And some see them\nhurling, small they are then, and with grey coats and blue caps. And\nthe car-driver told me--he wouldn't tell a lie--that he often passed\nthem walking like soldiers through the hollow beyond.\n\n\n_An Old Man on Slieve Echtge:_\n\nOne night I was walking on that mountain beyond, and a little\nlad with me, Martin Lehane, and we came in sight of the lake of\nDairecaol. And in the middle of the lake I saw what was like the\nshadow of a tall fir tree, and while I was looking it grew to be like\nthe mast of a boat. And then ropes and rigging came at the sides and\nI saw that it was a ship; and the boy that was with me, he began to\nlaugh. Then I could see another boat, and then more and more till the\nlake was covered with them, and they moving from one side to another.\nSo we watched for a while, and then we went away and left them there.\n\n\n_Mrs. Guinan:_\n\nIt's only a few days ago, I was coming through the field between this\nand the boreen, and I saw a man standing, a countryman you'd say he\nwas. And when I got near him, all at once he was gone, and when I\ntold Mrs. Raftery in the next house, she said she didn't wonder at\nthat, for it's not very long ago she saw what seemed to be the same\nman, and he vanished in the same way.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's a woman living up that road beyond, is married to a man of\nthe Matthews, and last year she told me that a strange woman came\ninto her house, and asked had she good potatoes. And she said she\nhad. And the woman said: \"You have them this year, but we'll have\nthem next year.\" And she said: \"When you go out of the house, it's\nyour enemy you'll see standing outside,\" that was her near neighbour\nand was her worst enemy.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey'll often come in the night, and bring away the food. I wouldn't\ntouch any food that had been lying about in the night, you wouldn't\nknow what might have happened it. And my mother often told me, best\nnot eat it, for the food that's cooked at night and left till the\nmorning, they will have left none of the strength in it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a hurling seen in a field near our house, little men they\nwere in green with red caps, and a sergeant of police and his men\nthat were going by stopped to look at them, but Johnny Roland a boy I\nknow, was standing in the middle of them all the time in the field,\nand never saw anything at all.\n\n\n_A North Galway Woman:_\n\nThere was a man living over at Caramina, beyond Moyne, Dick Regan\nwas his name, and one night he was walking over a little hill near\nthat place. And when he got to the top of it, he found it like a\nfair green with all the people that were in it, and they buying and\nselling just like ourselves. And they did him no harm, but they put\na basket of cakes into his hand and kept him selling them all the\nnight. And when he got home, he told the story. And the neighbours\nwhen they heard it gave him the name of the cakes and to the day of\nhis death he was called nothing but Richard Crackers.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a smith, and a man called on him late one evening, and asked\nhim to shoe a horse for him and so he did. And then he offered him pay\nbut he would take none. And the man took him out behind the house, and\nthere were three hundred horses with riders on them, and a hundred\nwithout, and he said, \"We want riders for those,\" and they went on.\n\n\n_An Aran Man:_\n\nA man that came over here from Connemara named Costello told me that\none night he was making poteen, and a man on a white horse came up,\nand the horse put his head into the place they were making it, and\nthen they rode away again. So he put a bottle of the whiskey outside\nthe place, and in a little time he went and looked and it was empty.\nAnd then he put another bottle out, and in a little time he looked\nagain, and it was empty. And then he put a third, but when he looked\nthe whiskey in it had not been stirred. And he told me he never did\nso much with it or made so much profit as he did in that year.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey are everywhere. Tom Deruane saw them down under the rocks\nhurling and they were all wearing black caps. And sometimes you'd\nsee them coming on the sea, just like a barrel on the top of the\nwater, and when they'd get near you, no matter how calm the day,\nyou'd have a hurricane about you. That is when they are taking their\ndiversions. And one evening late I was down with the wife burning\nkelp on the rocks, where we had a little kiln made. And we heard a\ntalking and a whispering about us on the rocks, and my wife thought\nit was the child that the sister was bringing down to her, and she\nsaid, \"God bless the son!\" but no one came, and the talking went on\nagain, and she got uneasy, and at last we left the kelp and came\nhome; and we weren't the first that had to leave it for what they\nheard in that place.\n\nFallen angels they are said to be. God threw a third part of them\ninto Hell with Lucifer, and it was Michael that interceded for the\nrest, and then a third part was cast into the air and a third on the\nland and the sea. And here they are all about us as thick as grass.\n\n\n_A Needlewoman from North Galway Working at Coole:_\n\nMyself and Anne (one of the maids) went up the middle avenue after\ndark last night and we got a fright, seeing what we thought to be\nfaeries. They were men dressed in black clothes like evening clothes,\nwearing white ruffles round their necks and high black hats without\nbrims. Two walked in front and one behind, and they seemed to walk\nor march stiff like as if there was no bend in the leg. They held\nsomething in each hand and they stopped before the gate pier where\nthere is a sort of cross in white like paint, then they disappeared\nand we turned and ran.\n\n(_When they were going up to bed, I am told, \"Anne suddenly stopped\nunder the picture of Mary Queen of Scots and called out, 'That is like\nthe frill they wore' and sank down on the stairs in a kind of faint.\"_)\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time at home I was out about dusk, and presently I heard a\ncreaking, and a priest walked by reading his prayers. But when he\ncame close I saw it was Father Ryan that was dead some time before.\nAnd I ran in and told a woman, who used to help in milking, what I\nhad seen, and she said, \"If it's Father Ryan you saw I don't wonder,\nfor I saw him myself at the back of the door there only a week ago.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a boy was making a wall near Cruachmaa and a lot of _them_\ncame and helped him, and he saw many neighbours that were dead among\nthem. And when they had the wall near built another troop of them\ncame running and knocked it down. And the boy died not long after.\n\n\n_A Young Man:_\n\nMy father told me that he was down one time at the north shore\ngathering wrack, and he saw a man before him that was gathering\nwrack too and stooping down. He had a black waistcoat on him and the\nrest of his clothes were flannel just like the people of this island.\nAnd when my father drew near him, he stooped himself down behind a\nstone; and when he looked there, there was no sight or mind of him.\n\nOne time myself when I was a little chap, about the size of Michael\nthere, I was out in the fields, and I saw a woman standing on the top\nof a wall, and she having a child in her hand. She had a long black\ncoat about her. And then she got down and crossed over the field, and\nit seemed to me all the time that she was only about so high (three\nfeet) and that there was only about two feet between her and the\nground as she walked, and the child always along with her. And then\nshe passed over another wall and was gone.\n\n\n_The Spinning Woman:_\n\nThere was a new-married woman, and the husband was going out and he\ngave her wool to spin and to have ready for him. And she couldn't\nknow what in the world to do, for she never learned to spin. And she\nwas there sitting at it and a little man came in, and when she told\nhim about it he said he'd bring it away and spin it for her and bring\nit back again. And she asked for his name, but he wouldn't tell that.\nAnd soon after there was a ragman going the road and he saw a hole\nand he looked down and there he saw the little man, and he stirring\na pot of stirabout with one hand and spinning with the other hand,\nand he was singing while he stirred: \"---- is my name (that's his\nname in Irish but I won't tell you the meaning of it) and she doesn't\nknow it, and so I'll bring her along with me.\" So the ragman went in\nand came to the young woman's house, and told her what the man was\nsinging. So when he came with the wool she called him by his name,\nand he threw the wool down and went away; for he had no power over\nher when she knew his name.\n\n\n_Mary Glynn of Slieve Echtge:_\n\nThat's it, that's it, _the other class_ of people don't like us to be\ngoing out late, we might be in their way, unless it's for a case, or\na thing that can't be helped. And this is Monday, no, Mrs. Deruane,\nnot Tuesday--we'll say it's Monday. It's at night they're seen, God\nbless them, and their music is heard, God bless them, the finest\nmusic you ever heard, like all the fifers of the world and all the\ninstruments, and all the tunes of the world. There was one of those\nboys that go about from house to house on the morning of the new\nyear, to get a bit of bread or a cup of tea or anything you'll have\nready for him, and he told us that he was coming down the hill near\nus, and he had the full of his arm of bits of bread, and he heard the\nmusic, for it was but dawn, and he was frightened and ran and lost\nthe bread. I heard it sometimes myself and there's no music in the\nworld like it, but it's not all can hear it. Round the hill it comes,\nand you going in at the door. And they are quiet neighbours if you\ntreat them well. God bless them and bring them all to heaven!\n\nFor they were in heaven once, and heaven was the first place there\nwas war, and they were all to be done away with, and it was St. Peter\nasked the Saviour to help them. So he turned His hand like this, and\nthe sky and the earth were full of them, and they are in every place,\nand you know that better than I do because you read books.\n\n\n_Mary Glynn and Mary Irwin:_\n\nOne night there were bonavs in the house,--God bless the hearers\nand the place it's told in--God bless all we see and those we don't\nsee!--And there was a man coming to rise dung in the potato field in\nthe morning, and so, late at night, Mary Glynn was making stirabout\nand a cake to have ready for breakfast.\n\nMary Irwin's brother was asleep within on the bed. And there came the\nsound of the grandest music you ever heard from beyond the stream,\nand it stopped here. And Micky awoke in the bed, and was afraid and\nsaid, \"Shut up the door and quench the light,\" and so we did. It's\nlikely they wanted to come into the house, and they wouldn't when\nthey saw us up and the lights about. But one time when there were\npotatoes in the loft, Mary Irwin and her brothers were well pelted\nwith them when they sat down to their supper. And Mary Glynn got a\nblow on the side of her face from them one night in the bed. And they\nhave the hope of Heaven, and God grant it to them. And one day there\nwas a priest and his servant riding along the road, and there was a\nhurling of _them_ going on in the field. And a man of them came and\nstood on the road and said to the priest, \"Tell me this, for you know\nit, have we a chance of Heaven?\" \"You have not,\" said the priest\n(_\"God forgive him,\" says Mary Glynn--\"a priest to say that\"_); and\nthe man that was of them said, \"Put your fingers in your ears till\nyou have travelled two miles of the road; for when I go back and tell\nwhat you are after telling me to the rest, the crying and the bawling\nand the roaring will be so great that if you hear it you'll never\nhear a noise again in this world.\" So they put their fingers then in\ntheir ears, but after a while the servant said to the priest, \"Let me\ntake out my fingers now.\" And the priest said, \"Do not.\" And then the\nservant said again, \"I think I might take one finger out.\" And the\npriest said, \"As you are so persevering you may take it out.\" So he\ndid, and the noise of the crying and the roaring and the bawling was\nso great that he never had the use of that ear again.\n\n\n_Callan of Slieve Echtge:_\n\nWe know they are in it, for Father Hobbs that was our parish priest\nsaw them himself one time there was a station here, and when some\nsaid they were not in it, he said, \"I saw them in a field myself, more\npeople than ever I saw at twenty fairs.\" It was St. Peter spoke for\nthem, at the time of the war, when the Saviour was casting them out;\nhe said to Him not to empty the heavens. And every Monday morning they\nthink the Day of Judgment may be coming, and that they will see Heaven.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's never a funeral they are not at, walking after the other\npeople. And you can see them if you know the way, that is to take a\ngreen rush and to twist it into a ring, and to look through it. But\nif you do, you'll never have a stim of sight in the eye again, and\nthat's why we don't like to do it.\n\nResting they do be in the daytime, and going about in the night.\n\n\n_Old Hayden:_\n\nOne time I was coming home from a fair and it was late in the night\nand it was dark and I didn't know was I on the right road. And I saw\na cabin in a field with a light in it, and I went and knocked at the\ndoor and a man opened the door and let me in, and he said, \"Have you\nany strange news?\" and I said, \"I have not,\" and he said, \"There is\nno place for you here,\" and he put me out again. For that was a faery\nhill, and when they'll ask have you strange news, and you'll say you\nhave not, they'll do nothing for you. So I went back in the field,\nand there were men carrying a coffin, and they said, \"Give us a hand\nwith this.\" And I put my hand to it to help them to lift it. And as we\nwalked on we came to a house, and we went in and there was a fire on\nthe hearth, and they took the body out of the coffin and put it before\nthe fire, and they said, \"Now let you keep turning it.\" So I sat there\nand turned it, and then they took it up and we went on till we came\nto another house and the same thing happened there, and they put me\nto turn the body. And when we went out from there they all vanished,\nand there was the cabin before me again with the light in it. And when\nthe man came to the door and asked me, \"Is there any strange news?\" I\nsaid, \"There is indeed,\" and told him all that had happened. And then I\nlooked round, and I was within a few yards of my own house.\n\n\n_Mrs. Keely:_\n\nWhen you see a blast of wind, and it comes sudden and carries the\ndust with it, you should say, \"God bless them,\" and throw something\nafter them. How do we know but one of our own may be in it? Half of\nthe world is with them.\n\nWe see them often going about up and down the hill, Jack O'Lanthorn\nwe call them. They are not the size of your two hands. They would not\ndo you much harm, but to lead you astray.\n\n\n_The Spinning Woman:_\n\nI remember one day a strange woman coming in and sitting down\nthere--very clever looking she was, and she had a good suit of\nclothes. And I bid her rest herself and I'd give her a cup of tea,\nand she said, \"I travelled far today and you're the first that\noffered me that.\" And when she had it taken she said, \"If I had a\nbit of tobacco, and a bit of bacon for my dinner, I'd be all right.\"\nAnd I made a sign to the woman I have, under the table, to give her\na bit of tobacco. So she got it for her and she said, \"I shouldn't\ntake it, and this the second time today you divided it.\" And that was\ntrue, for a neighbouring boy had come in in the morning and asked\nfor a loan of a bit, and she had cut it for him. And I said, \"Go to\nthat house beyond and the woman will give you a bit of bacon\"; and\nshe said, \"I won't go to that woman, for it was she told you that one\nof the neighbours was bringing away her butter from her,\" and so she\nhad, sure enough. And then she said, she must be in Cruachmaa that\nnight, and she went away and I never saw her again.\n\n\n_A Mayo Man:_\n\nOne time I was working in England near Warrington, and I was walking\nthe road alone at night, and I saw a woman under an umbrella in the\nmist and I said, \"Is it a living thing you are or dead?\" And she\nvanished on the minute. And I sat down by the hedge for a while, and\nI heard feet walking, walking, up and down inside the hedge, and I\nam sure they were the same thing. And then two strange men passed\nme, dressed in working clothes, but talking gibberish that I could\nnot understand, and I know that they were no right men. So I went in\ntowards the town and I met a policeman, and he took up his lamp and\nmade it shine in my face, for they carry a lamp in their belt and\nthey will take the measurement of your face with it, the same as by\ndaylight. And he said, \"There never was a worse road for an Irishman\nto walk than this one.\" It was maybe because of the land and the\nrough people of it he said that.\n\n\n_A Gate-keeper:_\n\nMy sister and her husband were driving on the Kinvara road one day,\nand they saw a carriage coming behind them, and it with bright lamps\nabout it. And they drew the car to one side to let it pass. And when\nit passed they saw it had no horses, and the men that were sitting up\nwhere the drivers should be were headless.\n\nThere's many has seen the coach, in different shapes, and some have\nseen the riders going over the country. Drumconnor is a great place\nfor these things. The Sheehans that lived in the castle had no peace\nor rest. Mrs. Sheehan looked up one day she was outside, and there\nwas some person standing at the window, and in a moment it was\nheadless. And they'd see them coming in at the gate, sometimes in\nthe shape of a woman, and a sort of a cape in the old fashion and a\nhandkerchief over the head, and sometimes in the shape of a cow or\nsuch things. And noises they'd hear, and things being thrown about\nin the house and packs of wool thrown down the stairs.\n\nAnd they had a good many children, and all the best and the\nbest-looking were taken. And at last they got the owner to build them\na house outside, and since that they have no trouble and have lost no\nmore children.\n\n\n_Mrs. Madden:_\n\nRivers of Cloonmore one time when he was going to Loughrea, at the\nfish-pond corner saw the coach. I didn't see it, but I saw him draw\naside and say to Leary not to let on they saw it.\n\nMeagher another time saw it, and it full of children all in white.\n\nBut Egan beyond, he'd never let on to believe in such things and\nwould make them out to be nothing--he has such a gift of talking.\n\nAnd one time in the night I and my husband woke and heard the car\nrattling by, and we thought it was St. George going to Ballylee\nCastle, till we asked in the morning. Four horses it has and they\nheadless, and sure and certain we heard it pass that night.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nAnd I knew a boy met the coach and four one time. Drawn by four\nhorses it was, and lights about it and music, and the horses dressed\nwith flowers. And in it were sitting ladies, very clever-looking and\nwild, and their hair twisted up on their heads, and when they went\non a little way they called to some man on the road to come with\nthem, and he refused, and they laughed at that and ridiculed him.\n\nI never saw the coach and four with these two eyes; but one time I\nheard it pass by, about 11 o'clock at night, when I was sitting up\nmending the sole of a boot. Surely it passed by, but I would not look\nout to see what it was like.\n\nFor there was a woman I knew was walking with a man one night from\nKilcolgan to Oranmore. And as they were sitting by the roadside they\nheard the coach and four coming. And the man stood up and looked at\nit, but he had no right to do that, he should have turned his head\naway. And there were grand people in it, ladies, and flowers about\nthem. But no sooner did he look at it than he was struck blind and\nnever had his eyesight since.\n\nIt's best not to look at them if they pass. And when you go along the\nroad and a storm comes in the calm and raises all the dust of the road\nup in the air, turn your head another way, for it's they that are\npassing. In the month of May is the most time they do be travelling.\nAnd it's best not to go near water then, near a river or a lake.\n\nWhen my father was dying my mother was sitting with him, and she\nheard a car pass the door, going light and quick, but when it passed\ndown the road again it went heavy, and that was the coach and four.\n\nThere was Sully had the forge one time, and passing one night down\nthe road towards Nolan's gate, he saw a brake pass full of ladies\nand gentlemen, as he thought, and he believed it to be St. George's\ncarriage. But at Nolan's gate, it turned and came up again, and\nwhatever he saw, when he got home he took to his bed for some days\nwith the fright he got.\n\nKelly told me one time he saw the coach and four driving through the\nfield above Dillon's, with four horses. And wasn't that a strange\nplace for it to be driving through all the rocks?\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was boys used to be stealing apples from the orchard at Tyrone,\nand something in white with a candle used to come after them, and then\nchange to something in red. So they went to a forth, and they went to\nthe side of it where the sun rises and there they made the mark of the\ncross, but after all they had to leave going after the apples.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman down at Silver's the other night, and when I was\nstanding to go home she said, \"I wonder you not to be afraid to go\nthrough these fields.\" So I asked her did ever she see anything,\nand she said, \"I was with another girl one day near Inchy gate,\nand we heard a voice, and we saw the coach and four coming and we\nwere afraid, and we went in under the bushes to hide ourselves. It\npassed by us then, it was big and long, longer than a carriage you\ncould see now, and there were people in it, men and women dressed in\nall colours, blue and red and pink and black, but I could not say\nwhat had they on their heads. And there was a man on the box, not a\ncoachman but just a Christian, and he driving the four horses.\n\n\"As to the horses, the two that were in front were grey, but the two\nthat were near the carriage were brown; it gave me a great fright at\nthe time.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is no light about it in the daytime, but at night it is all\nshining.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a girl saw it one time in the same way, drawn by horses\nthat were without heads. She got a great fright and she ran home. And\nin the morning when she got up, she that had been a dark-haired girl\nwas as white as snow, and her hair grey. She is living yet and is up\nto nearly a hundred years.\n\n\n_Mrs. Roche:_\n\nMy father would never believe in anything till one time he was walking\nnear Seanmor with another smith, and he stopped and said \"I can't go on\nwith all the people that's in that field.\" And my father said \"I don't\nsee any people.\" And the other said \"Put your right foot on my right\nfoot, and your hand on my right shoulder.\" And he did, and he saw a\ngreat many in the field, but not so many as the other saw; fine men\nand all dressed in white shirts, shining they were so white. He told us\nabout it when he came home, and he said he wished he didn't see them.\nHe was dead within the twelvemonth, and the man that was with him was\ndead before that, not much time between them.\n\n\n\n\n VIII\n\n BUTTER\n\n\n\n\n VIII\n\n BUTTER\n\n\n_I have been told:_\n\nButter, that's a thing that's very much meddled with. On the first\nof May before sunrise it's very apt to be all taken away out of\nthe milk. And if ever you lend your churn or your dishes to your\nneighbour, she'll be able to wish away your butter after that. There\nwas a woman used to lend a drop of milk to the woman that lived next\ndoor, and one day she was churning, churning, and no butter came. And\nat last some person came into the house and said, \"It's hard for you\nto have butter here, and if you want to know where it is, look into\nthe next house.\" So she went in and there was her neighbour letting\non to be churning in a quart bottle, and rolls of butter beside her.\nSo she made as if to choke her, and the woman run out into the garden\nand picked some mullein leaves, and said, \"Put these leaves in under\nyour churn, and you'll find your butter come back again.\" And so she\ndid. And she found it all in the churn after.\n\nTo sprinkle a few drops of holy water about the churn, and to put a\ncoal of fire under it, that you should always do--as was always done\nin the old time--and the _others_ will never touch it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman in the town was churning, and when the butter came\nshe went out of the house to bring some water for to wash it and to\nmake it up. And there was a tailor sitting sewing on the table. And\nthe woman from next door came in and asked the loan of a coal of\nfire, and that's a thing that's never refused from one poor person\nto another in the morning. So he bid her take it. And presently she\ncame in again and said that the coal of fire had gone out, and asked\nanother, and this she did the third time. But the tailor knew well\nwhat she was doing, and that every coal of fire she brought away,\nthere was a roll of butter out of the churn went with it. So whatever\nprayers he said is not known, but he brought the butter all back\nagain, and into a can on the floor, and no hands ever touched it. So\nwhen the woman of the house came back, \"There's your butter in the\ncan,\" said he. And she wondered how it came out of the churn to be in\nthree rolls in the can. And then he told her all that had happened.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man was churning, churning, every day and no butter would\ncome only froth. So some wise woman told him to go before sunrise to a\nrunning stream and bring a bottle of the water from it. And so he did\nbefore sunrise, and had to go near four miles to it. And from that day\nhe had rolls and rolls of butter coming every time he churned.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was one Burke, he knew how to bring it back out of some old\nIrish book that has disappeared since he died. There was a woman\na herd's wife lived beyond, and one time Burke had his own butter\ntaken, and he said he knew a way to find who had done it, and he\nbrought in the coulter of the plough and put it in the fire. And\nwhen it began to get red hot, this woman came running, and fell on\nher knees, for it was she did it. And after that he never lost his\nbutter again. But she took to her bed and was there for years until\nher death. And she couldn't turn from one side to another without\nsome person to lift her. Her son is now living in Dublin, and is the\nPresident of some Association.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIf a woman in Aran is milking a cow and the milk is spilled, she says,\n\"There's some are the better for it,\" and I think it a very nice\nthought, that they don't grudge it if there is any one it does good to.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man, one Finnegan, had the knowledge how to bring it back.\nAnd one time Lanigan that lives below at Kilgarvan had all his butter\ntaken and the milk nothing but froth rising to the top of the pail like\nbarm. So he went to Finnegan and he bid him get the coulter of the\nplough, and a shoe of the wickedest horse that could be found and some\nother thing, I forget what. So he brought in the coulter of the plough,\nand his brother-in-law chanced to have a horse that was so wicked it\ntook three men to hold him, and no one could get on his back. So he\ngot a shoe off of him. But just at that time, Lanigan's wife went to\nconfession, and what did she do but to tell the priest what they were\ndoing to get back the butter. So the priest was mad with them, and bid\nthem to leave such things alone. And when Finnegan heard it he said,\n\"What call had she to go and confess that? Let her get back her own\nbutter for herself any more, for I'll do nothing to help her.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nGrass makes a difference? So it may, but believe me that's not all.\nI've been myself in the County Limerick, where the grass is that rich\nyou could grease your boots in it, and I heard them say there, one\nquart of cream ought to bring one pound of butter. And it never does.\n_And where does the rest go to?_\n\n\n\n\n\n IX\n\n THE FOOL OF THE FORTH\n\n\n\n\n IX\n\n THE FOOL OF THE FORTH\n\n\n_We had, before our quest began, heard of faeries and banshees and\nthe walking dead; but neither Mr. Yeats in Sligo nor I in Galway had\never heard of \"the worst of them all,\" the Fool of the Forth, the\nAmad\u00e1n-na-Briona, he whose stroke is, as death, incurable. As to the\nfool in this world, the pity for him is mingled with some awe, for who\nknows what windows may have been opened to those who are under the\nmoon's spell, who do not give in to our limitations, are not \"bound by\nreason to the wheel.\" It is so in the East also, and I remember the\nsurprise of the European doctor who had charge of an hospital in one of\nthe Native States of India, because when the ruler of the State came\none day to visit it, he and his high officials, while generous and\npitiful to the bodily sick, bowed down and saluted a young lad who had\nlost his wits, as if recognizing an emissary from a greater kingdom._\n\n_In one of my little comedies \"The Full Moon,\" the cracked woman\ncomforts her half-witted brother, saying of his commonsense critics,\n\"It is as dull as themselves you would be maybe, and the world to be\ndifferent and the moon to change its courses with the sun.\" Those\ncommonsense people of Cloon describe a fool as \"one that is laughing\nand mocking, and that would not have the same habits as yourself, or\nto have no fear of things you would be in dread of, or to be using a\ndifferent class of food.\" May it not be the old story of the deaf man\nthinking all his fellow guests had suddenly lost their reason when they\nbegan to dance, and he alone could not hear the call of the pipes?_\n\n_There is perhaps sometimes a confusion in the mind between things\nseen and unseen, for an old woman telling me she had often heard of\nthe Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona went on \"And I knew one too, and he's not dead\na twelvemonth. It's at night he used to be away with them, and they\nused to try to bring people away into the forth where he was._\n\n\"_Was he a fool in this world too? Well, he was mostly, and I think I\nknow another that's living now_.\"\n\n\nI was told by:\n\n_A Woman Bringing Oysters from the Strand:_\n\nThere was a boy, one Rivers, got the touch last June, from the\nAmad\u00e1n-na-Briona, the Fool of the Forth, and for that touch there is no\ncure. It came to the house in the night-time and knocked at the door,\nand he was in bed and he did not rise to let it in. And it knocked\nthe second time, and even then, if he had answered it, he might have\nescaped. But when it knocked the third time he fell back on the bed,\nand one side of him as if dead, and his jaw fell on the pillow.\n\nHe knew it was the Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona did it, but he did not see\nhim--he only felt him. And he used to be running in every place after\nthat and trying to drown himself, and he was in great dread his\nfather would say he was mad, and bring him away to Ballinasloe. He\nused to be asking me could his father do that to him. He was brought\nto Ballinasloe after and he died there, and his body was brought back\nand buried at Drumacoo.\n\n\n_Mrs. Murphy:_\n\nCnoc-na-Briona is full of them, near Cappard. The Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona is\nthe master of them all, I heard the priest say that.\n\nThere was a man of the MacNeills passing by it one night coming back\nfrom the bog, and they brought him in, and when he came out next\nday--God save the mark--his face was turned to his poll. They sent\nthen to Father Jordan, and he turned it right again. The man said\nthey beat him while he was with them, and he saw there a great many\nof his friends that were dead.\n\n\n_The Spinning Woman:_\n\nThere are fools among them, and the fools we see like that Amad\u00e1n at\nBallymore go away with them at night. And so do the women fools, that\nwe call _lenshees_, that means, an ape.\n\nIt's true enough there is no cure for the stroke of the\nAmad\u00e1n-na-Briona. There was an old man I knew long ago, he had a\ntape, and he could tell what disease you had with measuring you, and\nhe knew many things. And he said to me one time \"What month of the\nyear is the worst?\" And I said, \"The month of May, of course.\" \"It\nis not,\" he said, \"but the month of June, for that's the month that\nthe Amad\u00e1n gives his stroke.\" They say he looks like any other man,\nbut he's _leathan_--wide--and not smart. I know a boy one time got a\ngreat fright, for a lamb looked over the wall at him, and it with a\nbig beard on it, and he knew it was the Amad\u00e1n, for it was the month\nof June. And they brought him to that man I was telling you about,\nthat had the tape. And when he saw him he said \"Send for the priest\nand get a Mass said over him.\" And so they did, and what would you\nsay but he's living yet, and has a family.\n\n\n_A Seaside Man:_\n\nThe stroke of the Fool is what there is no cure for; any one that\ngets that is gone. The Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona we call him. It's said they\nare mostly good neighbours. I suppose the reason of the Amad\u00e1n being\nwicked is he not having his wits, he strikes out at all he meets.\n\n\n_A Clare Man:_\n\nThey, the other sort of people, might be passing you close and\nthey might touch you; but any one that gets the touch of the\nAmad\u00e1n-na-Briona is done for. And it's true enough that it's in the\nmonth of June he's most likely to give the touch. I knew one that got\nit, and told me about it himself.\n\nHe was a boy I knew well, and he told me that one night a gentleman\ncame to him, that had been his landlord, and that was dead. And he told\nhim to come along with him, for he wanted to fight another man. And\nwhen he went he found two great troops of them, and the other troop had\na living man with them too, and he was put to fight him. And they had\na great fight and at last he got the better of the other man, and then\nthe troop on his side gave a great shout, and he was left home again.\n\nBut about three years after that he was cutting bushes in a wood, and\nhe saw the Amad\u00e1n coming at him. He had a big vessel in his arms, and\nit shining, so that the boy could see nothing else, but he put it\nbehind his back then, and came running; and he said he looked wide\nand wild, like the side of a hill.\n\nAnd the boy ran, and the Amad\u00e1n threw the vessel after him, and it\nbroke with a great noise, and whatever came out of it, his head\nwas gone then and there. He lived for a while after and used to be\ntelling us many things, but his wits were gone. He thought they\nmightn't have liked him to beat the other man, and he used to be\nafraid something would come on him.\n\n\n_Mrs. Staunton:_\n\nA friend of mine saw the Amad\u00e1n one time in Poul-na-shionac, low-sized\nand very wide, and with a big hat on him, very high, and he'd make\nshoes for you if you could get a hold of him. But there are some say\n\"No, that is not the Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona, that is the leprechaun.\"\n\n\n_An Old Woman:_\n\nThe Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona is a bad one to meet. If you don't say, \"The\nLord be between us and harm,\" when you meet him, you are gone for\never and always. What does he look like? I suppose like any fool in a\nhouse--a sort of a clown.\n\n\n_A Man near Athenry:_\n\nBiddy Early could cure nearly all things, but she said that the only\nthing that she could do no cure for was the touch of the Amad\u00e1n.\n\n\n_Another:_\n\nBiddy Early couldn't do nothing for the touch of the Amad\u00e1n, because\nits power was greater than hers.\n\n\n_In the Workhouse:_\n\nThe Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona, he changes his shape every two days. Sometimes he\ncomes like a youngster, and then he'll come like the worst of beasts.\nTrying to give the touch he used to be. I heard it said of late that he\nwas shot, but I think myself it would be hard to shoot him.\n\n\n_Ned Meehan of Killinane:_\n\nThe Amad\u00e1n is the worst; I saw him myself one time, and I'd be swept\nif I didn't make away on the moment. It was on a race-course at\nBallybrit, and no one there but myself, and I sitting with my back\nto the wall and smoking my pipe. And all at once the Amad\u00e1n was all\naround me, in every place, and I ran and got out of the field or I'd\nbe swept. And I saw others of them in the field; it was full of them,\nred scarfs they had on them.\n\nI came home as quick as I could, and I didn't get over the fright for\na long time, but there he was all about me.\n\n_Meehan's wife says_: I remember you well coming in that night, and\nyou trembling with the fright you got. And you told me the appearance\nhe had, like a jockey he was, on a grey horse.\n\n\"That is true indeed,\" _says Ned, and he goes on_:\n\nAnd one night I was up in that field beyond, watching sheep that were\nnear their time to drop, and I saw a light moving through the fields\nbeside me, and down the road and no one with it. It stopped for a\nwhile where the water is and went on again.\n\nAnd there was a woman in Ballygra the same night heard the coach-a-baur\npassing, and she not hearing at all about the lights I saw.\n\n\n_A Man at Kilcolgan:_\n\nFather Callaghan that used to be in Esker was able to do great cures;\nhe could cure even a man that had met the Amad\u00e1n-na-Briona. But to\nmeet the Amad\u00e1n is to be in prison for ever.\n\n\n\n\n X\n\n FORTHS AND SHEOGUEY PLACES\n\n\n\n\n X\n\n FORTHS AND SHEOGUEY PLACES\n\n\n_When as children we ran up and down the green entrenchments of the big\nround raths, the lisses or forths, of Esserkelly or Moneen, we knew\nthey had been made at one time for defence, and that is perhaps as much\nas is certainly known. Those at my old home have never been opened,\nbut in some of their like I have gone down steps to small stone-built\nchambers that look too low for the habitation of any living race._\n\n_Had we asked questions of the boys who led our donkeys they would\nin all likelihood have given us, from tradition or vision, news of\nthe shadowy inhabitants, the Sidhe, whose name in the Irish is all\none with a blast of wind, and of the treasures they guard. And the\nold writings tell us that when blessed Patrick of the Bells walked\nIreland, he did not refuse the promise of heaven to some among those\nspirits in prison, the old divine race for whom Mannanan himself had\nchosen these hidden dwellings, after the great defeat in battle by\nthe human invaders, the Gaels, or to some they had brought among them\nfrom the face of the green earth. It was one of their musicians who\nplayed to the holy Clerks till Patrick himself said, \"But for some\ntang of the music of the Sidhe that is in it, I never heard anything\nnearer to the music of heaven.\" That music is heard yet from time to\ntime; and it was into one of those hill dwellings that the father of\nMcDonough the Galway piper, my friend, was taken till the Sidhe had\ntaught him all their wild tunes and so bewitched his pipes that they\nwould play of themselves if he threw them up among the rafters. There\nwere great treasures there also in Saint Patrick's time, golden vats\nand horns, and crystal cups, and silks of the colour of the foxglove.\nIt may be of these treasures that so many dreams are told._\n\n_As to the women of the Sidhe, some who have seen them, as old Mrs.\nSheridan, tell of their white skin and yellow hair, for age has not\ncome on them through the centuries. When one of them came claiming\nthe fulfilment of an old promise from Caoilte of the Fianna, Patrick\nwondered at her young beauty, while the man who had been her lover\nwas withered and bent and grey. But Caoilte said that was no wonder\n\"for she is of the Tuatha de Danaan who are unfading and whose life\nis lasting, while I am of the sons of Milesius who are perishable\nand fade away.\" Yet then as now, notwithstanding their beauty and\ngrandeur, those swept away into the hill dwellings would rather have\nthe world they know. One of Finn's men meeting a comely young man who\nhad been his comrade but was now an inhabitant of one of those hidden\nhouses, asked how he fared. And for all his fine clothing and his\nblue weapons and the hound he held in a silver chain, the young man\ngave the names of three drudges \"who had the worst life of any who\nwere with the Fianna,\" and then he said, \"I would rather be living\ntheir life than the life I am leading now.\"_\n\n_The name of these tribes of the goddess Dana is often confused\nwith that of the northern invaders who were afterwards a terror to\nIreland. And so it was of those unearthly tribes an old basket-maker\nwas thinking when he said, in telling of the defeat of the Irish\nunder James, \"The Danes were dancing in the raths around Aughrim the\nnight after the battle. Their ancestors were driven out of Ireland\nbefore, and they were glad when they saw those that had put them out\nput out themselves, and everyone of them skivered.\"_\n\n_Many of the stories I have gathered tell how those tribes still\nprotect their own; and even today, March 21, 1916, I have read in the\n\"Irish Times\" that \"a farmer who was summoned by a road contractor\nfor having failed to cut a portion of a hedge on the roadside, told\nthe magistrates at Granard Petty Sessions that he objected to cutting\nthe hedge as it grew in a fort or rath. He however had no objection\nto the contractor's men cutting the hedge. The magistrates allowed\nthe case to stand till the next Court.\"_\n\n_As to Knockmaa, or Cruachmaa, or, as it is called today, Castle Hacket\nHill, that overlooks Lough Corrib and the plain of Moytura, and that we\nsee as a blue cloud from our roads, it was in Saint Patrick's time the\nhabitation of Finnbarr a king among the Sidhe and his seventeen sons,\nand it is to this day spoken of as \"a very Sheoguey place.\"_\n\n_It was in these enchanted hills that the ale of Goibniu the Smith\nkept whoever tasted it from sickness and from death, and there is\nsome memory of this in a story told me by an old farmer. \"There was\na man one time set out from Ireland to go to America or some place;\na common man looking for work he was. And something happened to the\nship on the way, and they had to put to land to mend it. And in the\ncountry where they landed he saw a forth, and he went into it, and\nthere he saw the smallest people he ever saw, and they were the Danes\nthat went out of Ireland; and it was foxes they had for dogs, and\nweasels were their cats._\n\n_\"Then he went back to get into the ship, but it was gone away, and he\nleft behind. So he went back into the forth, and a young man came to\nmeet him, and he told him what had happened. And the young man said\n'Come into the room within where my father is in the bed, for he is\nout of his health and you might be able to serve him.' So they went in\nand the father was lying in the bed, and when he heard it was a man\nfrom Ireland was in it he said, 'I will give you a great reward if you\nwill go back and bring me a thing I want out of Castle Hacket Hill.\nFor if I had what is there,' he said, 'I would be as young as my son.'\nSo the man consented to go, and they got a sailing ship ready, and it\nis what the old man told him, to go back to Ireland. 'And buy a little\npig in Galway,' he said, 'and bring it to the mouth of the forth of\nCastle Hacket and roast it there. And inside the forth is an enchanted\ncat that is keeping guard there, and it will come out; and here is a\nshot-gun and some cross-money that will kill any faery or any enchanted\nthing. And within in the forth,' he said, 'you will find a bottle and a\nrack-comb, and bring them back here to me.'_\n\n_\"So the man did as he was told and he bought the pig and roasted it\nat the mouth of the forth, and out came the enchanted cat, and it\nhaving hair seven inches long. And he fired the cross-money out of\nthe shot-gun, and the cat went away and he saw it no more. And he\ngot the bottle and the rack-comb and brought them back to the old\nman. And he drank what was in the bottle and racked his hair with the\nrack, and he got young again, as young as his own son.\"_\n\n_It may be some of those faery treasures are still given out; for of\nthe family who have been for a good while owners of the hill, one at\nleast had the gift of genius. And I remember being told in childhood,\nand I have never known if it were fact or folk-tale, that her mother\nhaving as a bride gone to listen to some debate or royal speech in\nthe House of Lords at Westminster, the whole assembly had stood up in\nhomage to her beauty._\n\n\n_I was told by a Miller:_\n\nIt was the Danes built these forths. They were a fair-haired race,\nand they married with the Irish that were dark-haired, just like\nthose linen weavers your own great-grandfather brought up from the\nNorth, the Hevenors and the Glosters and others, married with the\nRoman Catholics. There was a king of the Danes called Trevenher that\nhad a daughter that was a great beauty. And she gave a feast, and the\nyoung men of the other race dressed like girls and came to it, and\nsat at it till midnight, and then they threw off the women's clothes\nand killed all the generals and the king himself. So the Danes were\ndriven out, that's why we have the fires and the wisps on St. John's\nEve. And as for Herself there, she wouldn't for all the world let St.\nMartin's Day pass without killing of cocks--one for the woman and\nanother for the man.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to the three lisses at Ryanrush, there must have been a great deal\nof fighting there in the old time. There are some bushes growing on\nthem and no one, man or woman, will ever put a hand to cut them, no\nmore than they would touch the little bush by the well beyond, that\nused to have lights shining out of it.\n\nAnd if any one was to fall asleep within the liss himself, he would\nbe taken away and the spirit of some old warrior would be put in his\nplace, and it's he would know everything in the whole world. There's\nno doubt at all but that there's the same sort of things in other\ncountries. Sure _these_ can go through and appear in Australia in\none minute. But you hear more about them in these parts, because the\nIrish do be more familiar in talking of them.\n\n * * * * *\n\nEnchanters and magicians they were in the old times, and could make\nthe birds sing and the stones and the fishes speak.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt's in the forths they mostly live. The last priest that was here\ntold us a lot about them, but he said not to be anyway afraid of\nthem, for they are but poor souls doing their penance.\n\n\n_Mary Nagle:_\n\nThat's a fine big liss at Ryanrush, and people say they hear things\nthere, and sometimes a great light is seen--no wonder these things\nshould be seen there, for it was a great place for fighting in the\nold centuries, and a great deal of bones have been turned up in the\nfields. There was an open passage I remember into the liss, and two\ngirls got a candle one time and went in, but they saw nothing but the\nashes of the fires the Danes used to make. The passage is closed up\nnow I believe, with big stones no man could lift.\n\nOne time a woman from the North came to our house, and she said a\ngreat deal of people is kept below there in the lisses; she had been\nthere herself, and in the night-time in one moment they'd all be away\nat Cruachmaa, wherever that may be, down in the North I believe.\nAnd she knew everything that was in the house, and told us about my\nsister being sick, and that there was a hurling going on, as there\nwas that day at the Isabella wood in Coole. And all about Coole House\nshe knew as if she spent her life in it. I'd have picked a lot of\nstories out of her but my mother got nervous when she heard the truth\ncoming out, and bid me be quiet. She had a red petticoat on her, the\nsame as any country woman, and she offered to cure me, for it was\nthat time I was delicate and your ladyship sent me to the salt water,\nbut she asked a shilling and my mother said she hadn't got it. \"You\nhave,\" says she, \"and heavier metal than that you have in the house.\"\nSo then my mother gave her the shilling, and she put it in the fire\nand melted it, and says she, \"After two days you'll see your shilling\nagain.\" But we never did. And the cure she left, I never took it;\nit's not safe, and the priests forbid us to take their cures--for it\nmust surely be from the devil their knowledge comes. But no doubt at\nall she was one of the Ingentry, that can take the form of a woman by\nday and another form at night. After that she went to Mrs. Quaid's\nhouse and asked her for a bit of tobacco. \"You'll get it again\" she\nsaid, \"and more with it.\" And sure enough, that very day a bit of\nmeat came into Mrs. Quaid's house. (_Note_ 1.)\n\n\n_Maurteen Joyce:_\n\nThere's a forth near Clough that wanders underneath, but a man\ncouldn't get into it without he'd crawl on his hands and knees. Well,\nKennedy's filly was brought in there, and lived there for five days\nwithout food but what she got from _them_, and no one knew where she\nwas till a man passing by heard her neighing and then she was dug out.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's a forth near our house, but it's not the good people that are\nin it, only the old inhabitants of Ireland shut up there below.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere are a few old forths about, some of them you mightn't notice\nunless you understood such things; but sometimes passing by you'd\nfeel a cold wind blowing from them, would nearly rend you in two.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen I was a young chap myself I used to see a white woman walking\nabout sometimes at midday--that's the worst hour there is--and she'd\nalways go back into a forth, the forth of Cahir near Cloonmore, and\ndisappear into it.\n\nShe was known to be a woman that had died nine years before; and she\nwould sometimes come into the sister's house, and bid her keep it\nclean. But one time the sister's husband went to burn the inside of\nthe forth, and the next morning his barn where he had all the wheat of\nthe harvest and near a ton of hay and two or three packs of wool, was\nfound to be on fire. And his own little girl, about eight years of age,\nwas in the barn, and a labouring man broke through and brought a wet\ncloth with him and threw it over her and carried her out. But she was\nas black as cinders and dead. Vexed they were at him burning the forth.\n\n\n_An Old Miller:_\n\nDid _they_ get help to make those forths? You may know well that they\ndid. There was an engineer here when that road was being made--a\nsort of an idolater or a foreigner he was--anyway he made it through\nthe forth, and he didn't last long after. Those other engineers,\nEdgeworth and Hemans beyond at Ardrahan when the railway was made,\nI'm told they avoided such things.\n\n\n_A Slieve Echtge Man:_\n\nThere were two brothers taken away sudden, two O'Briens. They were\ncutting heath one day and filling the cart with it, and a voice told\nthem to leave off cutting the heath, but they went on, and a blow\nstruck the cart on the axle. And soon after that one of the brothers\nsat down in his chair and died sudden. And the other was one day\ngoing to market, I was going to it that day myself, and he wasn't far\nbeyond the white gate when the axle of the cart broke in that same\nplace where it had got the blow, and so he had to go home again, and\nnear the river where they're cutting the larch he turned in to talk\nto a poor man that was cutting a tree, and the tree fell, and the top\nof it struck him and killed him. And it was last March that happened.\n\nThere was one Leary in Clough had the land taken that's near Newtown\nracecourse. And he was out there one day building a wall, and it was\ntime for his dinner, but he had none brought with him. And a man came\nto him and said \"Is it home you'll be going for your dinner?\" And\nhe said \"It's not worth my while to go back to Clough, I'd have the\nday lost.\" And the man said, \"Well, come in and eat a bit with me.\"\nAnd he brought him into a forth, and there was everything that was\ngrand, and the dinner they gave him of the best, so that he eat near\ntwo plates of it. And then he went out again to build the wall. And\nwhether it was with lifting the heavy stones I don't know, but (with\nrespects to you) when he was walking the road home he began to vomit,\nand what he vomited up was all green grass.\n\n\n_A Man on the Connemara Coast:_\n\nThis is a faery stream we're passing; there were some used to see\nthem by the side of it, and washing themselves in it. And there used\nto be heard a faery forge here every night, and the hammering of the\niron could be heard, and the blast of the furnace.\n\nThere is a faery hill beyond there in the mountain, and some have\nseen fires in it all through the night. And one time the police were\nout there still-hunting, and the head of them, one Rogers, was in the\nmiddle of that place, and there he died, no one could say how, though\nsome of his men were round about him.\n\nThat's a nice flat clean place that rock we're passing--that's the\nsort of place they'd be seen dancing or having their play.\n\n\n_A Piper:_\n\nI knew twin sons, Considines, and one was struck with madness in\nEngland, and one at home--Pat in England, Mike in Connacht--at the\none time. Both were sent to Ballinasloe Asylum, and got well in eight\nmonths, and that was ten year ago, and one of them is married and\nrearing a family. The mother used to be doing cures with herbs; it is\nlikely that is the reason but she gave it up after they were struck.\n\nThere were three of another family went in to the Asylum, one this\nyear, one next year, and one the year after, and no reason but that\ntheir house was close to the side of a forth.\n\n\n_Maurteen Joyce:_\n\nWhen I was in Clare there was a forth, and two or three men went\ndown it one time, and brought rushes and lights with them. And they\ncame to where there was a woman washing at a river and they heard\nthe crying of young lambs, and it November, for when we have winter,\nthere is summer there. So they got afraid, and two of the men came\nback, but one of them stopped there and was never heard of after. The\nbest of things they have, and no trouble at all but to be eating; but\nthey have no chance of being saved till the Day of Judgment.\n\nI knew another forth that two men watched, and at night there came\nout of it two troops of horses, and they began to graze. But when the\nmen came near them they made for the forths, and all they got was a\nfoal. And they kept it, and it was a mare-horse, and it had foals,\nand the breed was the best that was ever seen in the country.\n\n\n_Mrs. Leary:_\n\nThere did strange things happen in that wood, noises would be heard,\nand those that went in to steal rods could never get them up on their\nback to bring them away. But there was one man said whatever happened\nhe'd bring them, and he got them on to his back, and then they were\nlifted off it over the wood. But they fell again and he got them and\ncarried them away; I suppose they thought well of him having so much\ncourage.\n\nCruachmaa is the great place for them.\n\nA man who had lost a blood mare met an old man from a forth who said\n\"Put your right foot on my right foot.\" And he did so, and at once he\nsaw the blood mare and his foal close by.\n\n\n_The Old Man Who Is Making a Well:_\n\nThere was a man and his wife was brought away at Cruachmaa and he was\ntold to go dig, and he'd get her out. And he began to dig, and when\nhe had a hole made at the side of the hill he saw her coming out, but\nhe couldn't stop the pick that he had lifted for the stroke, and it\nwent through her head.\n\n\n_J. Doran:_\n\nWhether they are in it or not, there are many tell stories of them.\nAnd I often saw the half of Cruachmaa covered--like as if there was a\nmist on it.\n\nBut one side of a wall is luckier than another, all the old people will\ntell you that. There was a big stone in the yard behind our house and\nmy husband thought to blast it, for it was in the way, and my mother\nsaid \"I'm in the house longer than you, and take my advice and never\ntouch that stone,\" and he never did. But there was a man built a house\nclose by and he wanted to close a passage, and one morning he came\nearly and was laying hands on that stone to take it. But I was out when\nI heard him and drove him away. And the house never throve with him, he\nlost two or three children, and then he died himself.\n\n\n_A Gate-keeper:_\n\nAt St. Patrick's well at Burren there used to be a great pattern\nevery year. And every year there was something lost and killed at it,\na horse or a man or a woman.\n\nSo at last the priest put a stop to it. And there was an old woman\nwith me in the barracks at Burren, and she told me she remembered\nwell when she was a young girl and the time came when the pattern\nused to be, the first year it was stopped her father put her up on a\nbig high wall near the well, and bid her look down. And there she saw\nthe whole place full of the _gentry_, and they playing and dancing\nand having their own games, they were in such joy to have done away\nwith the pattern. I suppose the well belonged to them before it got\nthe name of St. Patrick.\n\nThere's a small little house not far down the road where they used to\nbe very fond of going. And a woman in the town asked the old woman\nthat lived in it what did they look like. And she said \"For all the\nworld like people coming in to Chapel.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a girl coming back here one time from Clough, and instead\nof coming here she went the Esserkelly road and was led astray and a\nman met her and says he, \"Why do you say you're going to Labane and\nit's to Roxborough you're facing?\" and he turned her around. And when\nshe got home she took off the bundle she had on her back, and what\njumped out of it but a young hare.\n\n\n_Mrs. Casey:_\n\nI have a great little story about a woman--a jobber's wife that lived\na mile beyond Ardrahan. She had business one time in Ballyvaughan,\nand when she was on the road beyond Kinvara a man came to her out\nof a forth and he asked her to go in and to please a child that was\ncrying. So she went in and she pleased the child, and she saw in a\ncorner an old man that never stopped from crying. And when she went\nout again she asked the man that brought her in, why was the old man\nroaring and crying. The man pointed to a milch cow in the meadow and\nhe said, \"Before the day is over he will be in the place of that cow,\nand it will be brought into the forth to give milk to the child.\"\nAnd she can tell herself that was true, for in the evening when she\nwas coming back from Ballyvaughan, she saw in that field a cow dead,\nand being cut in pieces, and all the poor people bringing away bits\nof it, that was the old man that had been put in its place. There is\npoison in that meat, but no poison ever comes off the fire, but you\nmust mind to throw away the top of the pot.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThat forth where I heard the talking long ago, and left my can, it's\nonly the other day I was telling Pat Stephens of it that has the\nland. And he told me he put a trough in it to catch the water about a\nmonth ago. And the next day one of his best bullocks died.\n\n\n_Mrs. O'Brien:_\n\nIt's a bad piece of the road that poor boy fell off his cart at and\nwas killed. There's a forth near it, and it's in that forth my five\nchildren are that were swept from me. I went and I told Father Carey\nI knew they were there, and he said \"Say your prayers, my poor woman,\nthat's all you can do.\" When they were young they were small and thin\nenough, they grew up like a bunch of rushes, but they got strong\nand stout and good-looking. Too good they were, so that everyone\nwould remark them and would say, \"Oh, look at Ellen O'Brien--look\nat Catherine--look at Martin! So good to work and so handsome, so\nloyal to their mother.\" And they were all taken from me, all gone\nnow but one. Consumption they were said to get, but it never was in\nmy family or in the father's, and how would they get it without some\nprovocation? Four of them died with that, and Martin was drowned. One\nof the little girls was in America and the other at home, and they\nboth got sick and at the end of nine months both of them died.\n\nOnly twice they got a warning. Michael that was the first to go was out\none morning very early to bring a letter to Mr. Crowe. And he met on\nthe road a small little woman, and she came across him and across him\nagain, and then again, as if to be humbugging him. And he got afraid,\nand told me about her when he got home. And not long after that he died.\n\nAnd Ellen used to be going to milk the cow for the nuns morning and\nevening, and there's a place she had to pass, a sort of enchanted\nplace, I forget the name of it. And when she came home one evening\nshe said she'd go there no more, for when she was passing that place\nshe saw a small little woman, with a little cloak about her, and her\nface not the size of a doll's face. And with the one look of her she\ngot a fright and ran as fast as she could, and sat down to milk the\ncow. And when she was milking she looked up, and there was the small\nlittle woman coming along by the wall. And she said she'd never like\nto go up there again. So to move the thought out of her mind I said\n\"Sure that's the little woman is stopping up at Shamus Mor's house.\"\n\"Oh, it's not, Mother,\" said she; \"I know well by her look she was no\nright person.\" \"Then my poor girl you're lost,\" says I, \"for I know\nit was the same woman that my husband saw.\" And sure enough, it was\nbut a few weeks after that she died. There wasn't much change in them\nbefore their death, but there was a great change after.\n\nAnd Martin, the last that went, was stout and strong and nothing\nailed him, but he was drowned. He'd go down sometimes to bathe in the\nsea and one day he said he was going, and I said, \"Do not, for you\nhave no swim.\"\n\nBut a boy of the neighbours came after that and called to him, and I\nwas making the little dinner for him, and I didn't see him from the\ndoor. And I never knew he was gone till when I went out of the house\nthe girl from next door looked at me someway strange, and then she\ntold me two boys were drowned, and then she told me one of them was\nmy own. Held down he was, they said, by something under water. _They_\nhad him followed there.\n\nIt wasn't long after he died I woke one night and I felt some one\nnear, and I struck the light and then I saw his shadow. He was\nwearing his little cap, but under it I knew his face and the colour\nof his hair. And he never spoke and he was going out the door and I\ncalled to him and said \"Oh, Martin, come back to me and I'll always\nbe watching for you.\" And every night after that I'd hear things\nthrown about the house outside, and noises. So I got afraid to stop\nin it, and went to live in another house, and I told the priest I\nknew Martin was not dead but that he was living. And about eight\nweeks after Catherine dying, I had what I thought was a dream. I\nthought I dreamt that I saw her sweeping out the floor of the room,\nand I said, \"Catherine, why are you sweeping? Sure you know I sweep\nthe floor down and the hearth every night.\" And I said \"Tell me where\nyou are now?\" And she said, \"I'm in the forth beyond.\" And she said\n\"I have a great deal of things to tell you, but I must look out and\nsee are they watching me\"; now wasn't that very sharp for a dream?\nAnd she went to look out the door, but she never came back again.\n\nAnd in the morning when I told it to a few respectable people they\nsaid \"Take care but it might have been no dream, but herself that\ncame back and talked to you.\" And I think it was, and that she came\nback to see me, and to keep the place well swept.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSure we know there were some in the forths in the old times, for my\naunt's husband was brought away into one, and why wouldn't they be\nthere now? He was sent back out of it again; a girl led him home, and\nshe told him he was brought away because he answered to the first call\nand that he had a right only to answer to the third. But he didn't want\nto come home. He said he saw more people in it than he ever saw at a\nhurling, and that he'd ask no better place than it in high heaven.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Banshee always cries for the O'Briens. And Anthony O'Brien was a\nfine man when I married him, and handsome, and I could have had great\nmarriages if I didn't choose him, and many wondered at me. And when\nhe was took ill and in the bed, Johnny Rafferty came in one day, and\nsays he \"Is Anthony living?\" and I said he was. \"For,\" says he, \"as I\nwas passing, I heard crying, crying, from the hill where the forths\nare, and I thought it must be for Anthony, and that he was gone.\"\nAnd then Ellen, the little girl, came running in, and she says, \"I\nheard the mournfullest crying that ever you heard just behind the\nhouse.\" And I said \"It must be the Banshee.\" And Anthony heard me say\nthat where he was lying in the bed, and he called out, \"If it's the\nBanshee it's for me, and I must die today or tomorrow.\" And in the\nmiddle of the next day, he died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time I was passing by a forth down there, and I saw a thick smoke\ncoming out of it, straight up it went and then it spread at the top.\nAnd when it was clearing away I saw two rows of birds, one on the one\nside and one on the other, and I stopped to look at them. They were\nwhite, and had shoulders and heads like dogs, and there was a great\nnoise like a rattling, and a man that was passing by looked up and\nsaid \"God speed you,\" and they flew away.\n\n\n_A Seaside Man:_\n\nThere were five boys of the Callinans, and they rich and well-to-do,\nwere out in a boat, and a ship came out from the shore and touched it\nand it sank, and the ship was seen no more. And one of the boys held\non to the boat, and some men came out and brought him to land. But\nthe second time after that he went out, he was swept.\n\n\n_An Old Man in Gort Workhouse:_\n\nI knew an old man was in here was greatly given to card-playing. And\none night he was up on the hill beyond, towards Slieve Echtge, where\nthere is a big forth, and he went into it, and there he found a lot\nof _them_ playing cards. Like any other card-players they looked, and\nhe sat down and played with them, and they played fair. And when he\nwoke in the morning, he was lying outside on the hill, and nothing\nunder his head but a tuft of rushes.\n\n\n_John Mangan:_\n\nOld Hanrahan one time went out to the forth that's in front of his\nhouse and cut a bush, and he a fresh man enough. And next morning he\nhadn't a blade of hair on his head--not a blade. And he had to buy a\nwig and to wear it for the rest of his life. I remember him and the\nwig well.\n\nAnd it was some years after that that Delane, the father of the great\ncricketer, was passing by that way, and the water had risen and he\nstrayed off the road into it. And as he got farther and farther in,\ntill he was covered to better than his waist, he heard like the voice\nof his wife crying, \"Go on, John, go on farther.\" And he called out,\n\"These are John Hanrahan's faeries that took the hair off him.\" \"And\nwhat did you do then?\" they asked him when he got safe to the house,\nand was telling this. And he said, \"I turned my coat inside out, and\nafter that they troubled me no more, and so I got safe to the road\nagain.\" But no one ever had luck that meddled with a forth, so it's\nalways said.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's Mrs. Lynch's daughter was coming through the trees about\neight months ago and when she came to a thicket of bushes, a short\nlittle man came, out, about three feet high, dressed all in white,\nand he white himself or grey, and asked her to come with him, and she\nran away as fast as she could. And with the fright she got, she fell\ninto a sickness--what they call the sickness of Peter and Paul--and\nyou'd think she'd tear the house down when it comes on her.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI met a woman some time ago told me more about the forths in this\nplace than ever I knew before, and well she might for she had passed\nseven years in them, working, working, minding children and the like\nall the time; no singing or dancing for her.\n\n\n_M. Haverty:_\n\nThere was one Rock, was brought into a forth. A three-legged horse\ncame for him one night and brought him away; and when he got there\nthey all called him by his name.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man up there cut a tree in one of them, and he was took\nill immediately after, and didn't live long.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's a bad bit of road near Kinvara Chapel, just when you get\nwithin sight of the sea. I know a man has to pass there, and he\nwouldn't go on the driver's side of the car, for it's to the right\nside those things are to be seen. Sure there was a boy lost his life\nfalling off a car there last Friday week.\n\nOne night passing the big tree at Raheen I heard the sound of a\nhandsaw in the air, and I looked up and there in the top of a larch\ntree that's near to a beech I saw a man sitting and cutting it with\nthe handsaw. So I hurried away home. But the next time I passed that\nway I took a view of it to see might it have been one of the Dillons\nthat might be stealing timber; and there was no sign of a cut or a\ntouch in it at all.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man on the road between Chevy and Marble Hill, where\nthere is a faery plumb-stone, that stands straight up and it about\nfive feet in height, and the man was building a house and carried it\naway to put above his door. And from the time he brought it away, all\nhis stock began to die, and whenever he went in or out, night or day,\nhe was severely beaten. So at last he took the stone down and put it\nback where it was before, and from that time nothing has troubled him.\n\n\n_John Mangan:_\n\nMyself and two of my brothers were over at Inchy Weir to catch a\nhorse, and growing close by the water there was a bush the form of\nan umbrella, very close and thick at the top. So we began fooling as\nboys do, and I said, \"I'll bet a button none of you will make a stone\ngo through the bush.\" So I took up a pebble of cow-dung and threw it,\nand they all threw, and no sooner did the pebble hit the bush than\nthere came from it music, like a band playing. So we all ran for our\nlives, and when we had got about two hundred yards we looked back and\nwe saw something moving round the bush, first it had the clothes of a\nwoman and then of a man. So we stopped to see no more.\n\nWell, it was some years after that when Sir William ordered all the\nbushes in that part to be cut down. And one Prendergast a boy that used\nto be a beater here and that went to America after, went to cut them\njust in the same place where I had seen that sight, and a thorn ran\ninto his eye and blinded him, and he never got the sight of it again.\n\n\n_An Old Woman near Ballinsloe:_\n\nThere are many forths around, and in that one beyond, there is often\nmusic heard. The smith's father heard the music one time he was\npassing and he could not stop from dancing till he was tired. I heard\nhim tell that myself.\n\nAnd over there to the left there is a forth had an opening in it, and\nthe steward wanted to get it closed up, and he could get no men to do\nit. And at last a young man said he would, and he went to work and at\nthe end of the week he was dead.\n\nAnd there was a girl milking a cow not long after that, and she saw\nhim coming to her, and she ran away, and he called to her to stop and\nshe did not, and he said \"That you may never milk another cow!\" And\nwithin a week, she herself was dead.\n\nThere was a woman over there in that house you can see, and she wanted\nto root up a forth; covetousness it was, she had plenty and she wanted\nmore. And she tried to get a man to do it and she could not, but at\nlast a man that had been turned out of his holding, and that was in\nwant, said he would do it. And before he went to work he went on his\ntwo knees, and he wished that whatever harm might come from it might\ncome on her, and not on himself. And so it did, and her hands got\ncrippled and crappled. And they travelled the world and could get no\nrelief for her, and her cattle began to die, and she died herself in\nthe end. And the daughter and the son-in-law had to leave that house\nand to build another, for they were losing all the cattle, and they are\nleft alone now, but the daughter lost a finger by it.\n\n\n_A Man near Corcomroe:_\n\nI saw a light myself one night in the big forth over there near the\nsea. Like a bonfire it was, and going up about thirty feet into the air.\n\n * * * * *\n\nGhosts are to be heard about the forths. They make a heavy noise, and\nthere are creaks in their shoes. Doing a penance I suppose they are.\nAnd there's many see the lights in the forths at Newtown.\n\n\n_J. Doheny:_\n\nOne time I was cutting bushes up there near the river, and I cut a\nbig thorn bush, I thought it no harm to do it when it wasn't standing\nby itself, but in a thicket, and it old and half-rotten. And when I\nhad it cut, I heard some one talking very loud to my wife, that was\ngathering kippeens down in the field the other side of the wall. And\nI went down to know who it was talking to her. And when I asked her\nshe said \"No, it's to yourself some one was talking, for I heard his\nvoice where you were, and I saw no one.\" So I said, \"Surely it's one\nof them mourning for the bush I cut,\" for the sound of his voice was\nas if he was mad vexed.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI think it's not in the tree at the corner there's anything, it's\nsomething in the place. Not long ago there was one Greeley going\nto Galway with a load of barley, and when he came to that corner\nhe heard the sound of a train crossing from inside the wall, and\nthe horse stopped. And then he heard it a second time and the horse\nrefused to go on, and at the end he had to turn back home again, for\nhe had no use trying to make the horse go on.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere were ash trees growing around the blessed well at Corker, and\none night Deeley, the uncle of Pat Deeley that lives beyond, and two\nother men went to cut them down, to get the makings of a car-body.\nAnd the next day Deeley's lip was drawn down--like this--and water\nrunning from it for the rest of his life. I often see him; and as to\nthe two other men, they died soon after.\n\nAnd big Joyce that was a servant to John O'Hara, he went to cut trees\none night near that hole at Raheen, near the corner of the road, and\nhe was prevented, and never could get the handsaw near a tree, nor\nthe other men that were with him.\n\nAnd there was another man went and cut a bush not far from the\nKinvara road, and with the first stroke he heard a sort of a cough\nor a groan come from beneath it, that was a token to him to leave it\nalone. But he wouldn't leave off, and his mouth was drawn to one side\nall of a sudden and in two days after he was dead. Surely, one should\nleave such things alone.\n\n\n_A Piper:_\n\nI had a fall myself in Galway the other day that I couldn't move\nmy arm to play the pipes if you gave me Ireland. And a man said to\nme--and they are very smart people in Galway--that two or three got a\nfall and a hurt in that same place. \"There is places in the sea where\nthere is drowning,\" he said, \"and places on the land as well where\nthere do be accidents, and no man can save himself from them, for it\nis the will of God.\"\n\n\n_A Man Asking Alms:_\n\nIt's not safe sometimes to meddle with walls. There was a man beyond\nGort knocked some old walls not long ago, and he's dead since.\n\nBut it's by the big tree outside Raheen where you take the turn to\nKinvara that the most things are seen. There was a boy living with\nConor in Gort that was out before daylight with a load of hay in a\ncart, and he sitting on top of it, and he was found lying dead just\nbeside the tree, where he fell from the top of the cart, and the\nhorse was standing there stock-still. There was a shower of rain fell\nwhile he was lying there, and I passed the road two hours later, and\nsaw where the dust was dry where his body had been lying. And it was\nonly yesterday I was hearing a story of that very same place. There\nwas a man coming from Galway with a ton weight of a load on his cart,\nand when he came to that tree the linching of his wheel came out,\nand the cart fell down. And presently a little man, about two and a\nhalf feet in height, came out from the wall and lifted up the cart,\nand held it up till he had the linching put up again. And he never\nsaid a word but went away as he came, and the man came in to Gort.\nAnd I remember myself, the black and white dog used to be on the\nroad between Hanlon's gate and Gort. It was there for ten years and\nno one ever saw it, but one evening Father Boyle's man was going out\nto look at a few little sheep and lambs belonging to the priest, and\nwhen he came to the stile the dog put up its paws on it and looked at\nhim, and he was afraid to go on. So next morning he told Father Boyle\nabout it and he said \"I think that you won't see it any more.\" And\nsure enough from that day it never was seen again.\n\n\n_Steve Simon:_\n\nI don't know did I draw down to you before, your ladyship, the\ngreatest wonder ever I saw in my life?\n\nI was passing by the forth at Corcomroe, coming back from some shopping\nI had done in Belharbour, and I saw twelve of the finest horses ever\nI saw, and riders on them racing round the forth. Many a race I saw\nsince I lived in this world, but never a race like that, for tipping\nand tugging and welting the horses; the jockeys in coloured clothes,\nstriped and blue, and little blue caps on them, and a lady in the front\nof them on a bayish horse and wearing a scarlet jacket.\n\nI told what I saw the same evening to an old woman living near and\nshe said, \"Whatever you saw keep it secret, or some harm will come\nupon you.\" There was another thing I saw besides the riders. There\nwere crowds and crowds of people, standing as we would against walls\nor on a stage, and taking a view. They were shouting, but the men\nracing on the horses said nothing at all. Never a race like that one,\nwith the swiftness and the welting and fine horses that were in it.\n\nWhat clothing had these people? They had coats on them, and on their\nback there were pictures, pictures in the form of people. Shields\nI think they were. Anyway there were pictures on them. Striped the\ncoats were, and a sort of scollop on them the same as that screen in\nthe window (a blind with Celtic design). They had little blue caps,\nsuch as wore them, but some had nothing on the head at all; and they\nhad blue slippers--those I saw of them--but I was afeared to take\nmore than a side view except of the racers.\n\n\n_An Old Army Man:_\n\nYou know the forth where the old man lost his hair? Well there's\nanother man, Waters, that married Brian's sister, has the second\nsight, and there's a big bush left in that forth, and when he goes\nthere he sees a woman sitting under it, and she lighting a fire.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCloran's father was living over at Knockmaa one time and his wife\ndied, and he believed it was taken into the hill she was. So he went\none morning and dug a hole in the side of the hill. But the next\nmorning when he went back to dig again, the hole was filled up and\nthe grass growing over it as before. And this he did two or three\ntimes. And then some one told him to put his pick and his spade\nacross the hole. And so he did, and it wasn't filled up again. But\nwhat happened after I don't know.\n\n\n_An Old Army Man:_\n\nThat's a bad bit of road near Kinvara where the boy lost his life last\nweek; I know it well. And I knew him, a quiet boy, and married to a\nwidow woman; she wanted the help of a man, and he was young. What would\nail him to fall off the side of an ass-car and to be killed?\n\n\n\n\n XI\n\n BLACKSMITHS\n\n\n\n\n XI\n\n BLACKSMITHS\n\n\n_I have been told:_\n\nYes, they say blacksmiths have something about them, and if there's a\nseventh blacksmith in succession, from generation to generation, he\ncan do many things, and if he gave you his curse you wouldn't be the\nbetter of it. There was one near the cliffs, Pat Doherty, but he did\nno harm to any one, but was as quiet as another. He is dead now and\nhis son is a blacksmith too. (_Note_ 2.)\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man one time that was a blacksmith, and he used to go\nevery night playing cards, and for all his wife could say he wouldn't\nleave off doing it. So one night she got a boy to go stand in the old\nchurchyard he'd have to pass, and to frighten him. So the boy did\nso, and began to groan and to try to frighten him when he came near.\nBut it's well known that nothing of that kind can do any harm to a\nblacksmith. So he went in and got hold of the boy, and told him he\nhad a mind to choke him, and went his way.\n\nBut no sooner was the boy left alone than there came about him\nsomething in the shape of a dog, and then a great troop of cats. And\nthey surrounded him and he tried to get away home, but he had no power\nto go the way he wanted but had to go with them. And at last they came\nto an old forth and a faery bush, and he knelt down and made the sign\nof the cross and said a great many \"Our Fathers,\" and after a time they\nwent into the faery bush and left him. And he was going away and a\nwoman came out of the bush, and called to him three times, to make him\nlook back. And he saw that it was a woman that he knew before, that was\ndead, and so he knew that she was amongst the faeries.\n\nAnd she said to him, \"It's well for you that I was here, and worked\nhard for you, or you would have been brought in among them, and be\nlike me.\" So he got home. And the blacksmith got home too and his\nwife was surprised to see he was no way frightened. But he said, \"You\nmight know that there's nothing of that sort could harm me.\"\n\nFor a blacksmith is safe from all, and when he goes out in the night\nhe keeps always in his pocket a small bit of wire, and they know him\nby that. So he went on playing, and they grew very poor after.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd I knew a woman from the County Limerick had been _away_, and she\ncould tell you all about the forths in this place and how she was\nrecovered. She met a man she knew on the road, and she out riding with\nthem all on horseback, and told him to bring a bottle of forge-water\nand to throw it on her, and so he did, and she came back again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBlacksmiths surely are safe from these things. And if a blacksmith\nwas to turn his anvil upside down and to say malicious words, he\ncould do you great injury.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a child that was changed, and my mother brought it a nice\nbit of potato cake one time, for tradesmen often have nice things on\nthe table. But the child wouldn't touch it, for they don't like the\nleavings of a smith.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBlacksmiths have power, and if you could steal the water from the\ntrough in the forge, it would cure all things.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd as to forges, there's some can hear working and hammering in them\nthrough the night.\n\n\n\n\n XII\n\n MONSTERS AND SHEOGUEY BEASTS\n\n\n\n\n XII\n\n MONSTERS AND SHEOGUEY BEASTS\n\n\n_The Dragon that was the monster of the early world now appears\nonly in the traditional folk-tales, where the hero, a new Perseus,\nfights for the life of the Princess who looks on crying at the brink\nof the sea, bound to a silver chair, while the Dragon is \"put in a\nway he will eat no more kings' daughters.\" In the stories of today\nhe has shrunk to eel or worm, for the persons and properties of\nthe folk-lore of all countries keep being transformed or remade in\nthe imagination, so that once in New England on the eve of George\nWashington's birthday, the decorated shop windows set me wondering\nwhether the cherry tree itself might not be a remaking of the\nred-berried dragon-guarded rowan of the Celtic tales, or it may be of\na yet more ancient apple. I ventured to hint at this in a lecture at\nPhiladelphia, and next day one of the audience wrote me that he had\nlooked through all the early biographies of Washington, and either\nthe first three or the first three editions of the earliest--I have\nmislaid the letter--never mention the cherry tree at all._\n\n_The monstrous beasts told of today recall the visions of Maeldune on\nhis strange dream-voyage, where he saw the beast that was like a horse\nand that had \"legs of a hound with rough sharp nails,\" and the fiery\npigs that fed on golden fruit, and the cat that with one flaming leap\nturned a thief to a heap of ashes; for the folk-tales of the world have\nlong roots, and there is nothing new save their reblossoming._\n\n\n_I have been told by a Car-driver:_\n\nI went to serve one Patterson at a place called Grace Dieu between\nWaterford and Tramore, and there were queer things in it. There was a\nwoman lived at the lodge the other side from the gate, and one day she\nwas looking out and she saw a woolpack coming riding down the road of\nitself.\n\nThere was a room over the stable I was put to sleep in, and no one\nnear me. One night I felt a great weight on my feet, and there was\nsomething very weighty coming up upon my body and I heard heavy\nbreathing. Every night after that I used to light the fire and bring\nup coal and make up the fire with it that it would be near as good\nin the morning as it was at night. And I brought a good terrier up\nevery night to sleep with me on the bed. Well, one night the fire was\nlighting and the moon was shining in at the window, and the terrier\nleaped off the bed and he was barking and rushing and fighting and\nleaping, near to the ceiling and in under the bed. And I could see\nthe shadow of him on the walls and on the ceiling, and I could see\nthe shadow of another thing that was about two foot long and that had\na head like a pike, and that was fighting and leaping. They stopped\nafter a while and all was quiet. But from that night the terrier\nnever would come to sleep in the room again.\n\n\n_By Others:_\n\nThe worst form a monster can take is a cow or a pig. But as to a\nlamb, you may always be sure a lamb is honest.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA pig is the worst shape they can take. I wouldn't like to meet\nanything in the shape of a pig in the night.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNo, I saw nothing myself, I'm not one of those that can see such\nthings; but I heard of a man that went with the others on rent day, and\nbecause he could pay no rent but only made excuses, the landlord didn't\nask him in to get a drink with the others. So as he was coming home by\nhimself in the dark, there was something on the road before him, and he\ngave it a hit with the toe of his boot, and it let a squeal. So then he\nsaid to it, \"Come in here to my house, for I'm not asked to drink with\nthem; I'll give drink and food to you.\" So it came in, and the next\nmorning he found by the door a barrel full of wine and another full of\ngold, and he never knew a day's want after that.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWalking home one night with Jack Costello, there was something before\nus that gave a roar, and then it rose in the air like a goose, and\nthen it fell again. And Jackeen told me after that it had laid hold\non his trousers, and he didn't sleep all night with the fright he got.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's a monster in Lough Graney, but it's only seen once in seven\nyears.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is a monster of some sort down by Duras, it's called the ghost\nof Fiddeen. Some say it's only heard every seven years. Some say it\nwas a flannel seller used to live there that had a short fardel. We\nheard it here one night, like a calf roaring.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night my grandfather was beyond at Inchy where the lads from Gort\nused to be stealing rods, and he was sitting by the wall, and the dog\nbeside him. And he heard something come running from Inchy Weir and\nhe could see nothing, but the sound of its feet on the ground was\nlike the sound of the feet of a deer. And when it passed by him the\ndog got in between him and the wall and scratched at him, but still\nhe could see nothing but only could hear the sound of hoofs. So when\nit was passed he turned away home.\n\nAnother time, my grandfather told me, he was in a boat out on the lake\nhere at Coole with two or three men from Gort. And one of them had an\neel-spear and he thrust it into the water and it hit something, and\nthe man fainted, and they had to carry him in out of the boat to land.\nAnd when he came to himself he said that what he struck was like a\nhorse or like a calf, but whatever it was, it was no fish.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is a boy I knew, one Curtin near Ballinderreen, told me that\nhe was going along the road one night and he saw a dog. It had claws\nlike a cur, and a body like a person, and he couldn't see what its\nhead was like. But it was moaning like a soul in pain, and presently\nit vanished, and there came most beautiful music, and a woman came\nout and he thought at first it was the Banshee, and she wearing a red\npetticoat. And a striped jacket she had on, and a white band about\nher waist. And to hear more beautiful singing and music he never did,\nbut to know or to understand what she was expressing, he couldn't do\nit. And at last they came to a place by the roadside where there were\nsome bushes. And she went in there and disappeared under them, and\nthe most beautiful lights came shining where she went in. And when he\ngot home, he himself fainted, and his mother put her beads over him,\nand blessed him and said prayers. So he got quiet at last.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI would easily believe about the dog having a fight with something\nhis owner couldn't see. That often happens in this island, and that's\nwhy every man likes to have a black dog with him at night--a black\none is the best for fighting such things.\n\nAnd a black cock everyone likes to have in their house--a March cock\nit should be.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI knew the captain of a ship used to go whale fishing, and he said he\nsaw them by scores. But by his account they were no way like the ones\nMcDaragh saw; it was I described them to him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe don't give in to such things here as they do in the middle island;\nbut I wouldn't doubt that about the dog. For they can see what we\ncan't see. And there was a man here was out one night and the dog\nran on and attacked something that was in front of him--a faery it\nwas--but he could see nothing. And every now and again it would do\nthe same thing, and seemed to be fighting something before him,\nand when they got home the man got safe into the house, but at the\nthreshold the dog was killed.\n\nAnd a horse can see many things, and if ever you're out late, and the\nhorse to stop as if there was something he wouldn't pass, make the\nsign of the cross between his ears, and he'll go on then. And it's\nwell to have a cock always in the house, if you can have it from a\nMarch clutch, and the next year if you can have another cock from a\nMarch clutch from that one, it's the best. And if you go late out of\nthe house, and that there is something outside it would be bad to\nmeet, that cock will crow before you'll go out.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI'm sorry I wasn't in to meet you surely, knowing as much as I do\nabout the faeries. One night I went with four or five others down by\nthe mill to hunt rabbits. And when we got to the field by the river\nthere was the sound of hundreds, some crying and the other part\nlaughing, that we all heard them. And something came down to the\nriver, first I thought he was a dog and then I saw he was too big and\nstrange looking. And you'd think there wouldn't be a drop of water\nleft in the river with all he drank. And I bid the others say nothing\nabout it, for Patrick Green was lying sick at the mill, and it might\nbe taken for a bad sign. And it wasn't many days after that he died.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMy father told me that one night he was crossing this road, and\nhe turned to the wall to close his shoe. And when he turned again\nthere was something running through the field that was the size of a\nyearling calf, and black, and it ran across the road, and there was\nlike the sound of chains in it. And when it came to that rock with\nthe bush on it, it stopped and he could see a red light in its mouth.\nAnd then it disappeared. He used often to see a black dog in this\nroad, and it used to be following him, and others saw it too. But one\nnight the brother of the priest, Father Mitchel, saw it and he told\nthe priest and he banished it.\n\nThe lake down there (Lough Graney) is an enchanted place, and old\npeople told me that one time they were swimming there, and a man had\ngone out into the middle and they saw something like a great big eel\nmaking for him, and they called out, \"If ever you were a great swimmer\nshow us now how you can swim to the shore,\" for they wouldn't frighten\nhim by saying what was behind him. So he swam to the shore, and he only\ngot there when the thing behind him was in the place where he was. For\nthere are queer things in lakes. I never saw anything myself, but one\ntime I was coming home late from Scariff, and I felt my hair standing\nup on my head, and I began to feel a sort of shy and fearful, and I\ncould feel that there was something walking beside me. But after a\nwhile there was a little stream across the road, and after I passed\nthat I was all right again and could feel nothing near.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI never saw anything myself but once, early in the morning and I going\nto the May fair of Loughrea. It was a little way outside of the town\nI saw something that had the appearance of a black pig, and it was\nrunning in under the cart and under the ass's feet. And the ass would\nkeep backing away from it, that it was hardly I could bring her along,\ntill we got to the bridge of Cloon, and once we were over that we saw\nit no more, for it couldn't pass the running water. And all the time it\nwas with us I was hitting at it with my stick, and it would run from\nme then, for it was a hazel stick, and the hazel is blessed, and no\nwicked thing can stay when it is touched with it. It is likely the nuts\nare blessed too. Aren't they growing on the same tree?\n\n * * * * *\n\nI was over at Phayre's mill one time to get some boards sawed and\nthey said I must wait an hour or so, where the mill wasn't free. And\nI had a load of turf to get, and I went along the road. And I heard\nsomething coming after me in the gutter, and it stood up over me like\nan elephant, and I put my hands behind me and I said, \"Madad Fior,\"\nand he went away. It was just at the bridge he was, near Kilchriest,\nand when I was coming back after a while, just when I got to the\nbridge there, he was after me again. But I never saw him since then.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time I was at the fair at Ballinasloe, and I but a young lad at the\ntime, and a comrade with me that was but a young lad too. We brought in\nthe sheep the Monday evening, and they were sold the Tuesday morning,\nand the master bid us to go home on the train. \"Bad cess,\" said my\ncomrade, \"are we to get no good at all out of the fair? Let us stop,\"\nsays he, \"and get the good of it and go back by the mail train.\" So\nwe went through the fair together and went to a dance, and the master\nnever knew, and we went home on the mail train together. We got out at\nWoodlawn and we were going home, and we heard a sort of a groaning and\nwe could see nothing, and the boy that was with me was frightened, for\nthough he was a strong boy, he was a timorous man. We found then the\ngroaning coming from beyond the wall, and I went and put my two fists\non the wall and looked over it. There were two trees on the other side\nof the wall, and I saw walking off and down from one tree to the other,\nsomething that was like a soldier or a sentry. The body was a man's\nbody, and there was a black suit on it, but it had the head of a bear,\nthe very head and _puss_ of a bear. I asked what was on him. \"Don't\nspeak to me, don't speak to me,\" he said, and he stopped by the tree\nand was groaning and went away.\n\nThat is all that ever I saw, and I herding sheep in the lambing\nseason, and falling asleep as I did sometimes, and walking up and\ndown the field in my sleep.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMy father told me that in the bad times, about the year '48, he used\nto be watching about in the fields, where the people did be stealing\nthe crops. And there was no field in Coole he was afraid to go into\nby night except one, that is number three in the Lake Farm. For the\ndog that was about in those times stopped the night in the clump\nthere. And Johnny Callan told me one night passing that field he\nheard the noise of a cart of stones thrown against the wall. But when\nhe went back there in the morning there was no sign of anything at\nall. My father never saw the dog himself but he was known to be there\nand he felt him.\n\nAnd as for the monster, I never saw it in Coole Lake, but one day I\nwas coming home with my two brothers from Tirneevan school, and there\nas we passed Dhulough we heard a great splashing, and we saw some\ncreature put up its head, with a head and a mane like a horse. And we\ndidn't stop but ran.\n\nBut I think it was not so big as the monster over here in Coole Lake,\nfor Johnny Callan saw it, and he said it was the size of a stack of\nturf. But there's many could tell about that for there's many saw it,\nDougherty from Gort and others.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to the dog that used to be in the road, a friend of his own\nwas driving Father Boyle from Kinvara late one night and there it\nwas--first on the right side and then on the left of the car. And at\nlast he told Father Boyle, and he said, \"Look out now for it, and\nyou'll see it no more,\" and no more he did, and that was the last of it.\n\nBut the driver of the mail-car often seen a figure of a woman\nfollowing the car till it came to the churchyard beyond Ardrahan, and\nthere it disappeared.\n\nFather Boyle was a good man indeed--a child might speak to him. They\nsaid he had the dog or whatever it may be banished from the road, but\nof late I heard the driver of the mail-car saying he sees it on one\nspot on the road every night. And there's a very lonely hollow beyond\nDoran's house, and I know a man that never passed by that hollow\nbut what he'd fall asleep. But one night he saw a sort of a muffled\nfigure and he cried out three times some good wish--such as \"God have\nmercy on you\"--and then it gave a great laugh and vanished and he saw\nit no more. As to the forths or other old places, how do we know what\npoor soul may be shut up there, confined in pain?\n\n * * * * *\n\nSure a man the other day coming back from your own place, Inchy, when\nhe came to the big tree, heard a squealing, and there he saw a sort\nof a dog, and it white, and it followed as if holding on to him all\nthe way home. And when he got to the house he near fainted, and asked\nfor a glass of water.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's some sort of a monster at Tyrone, rising and slipping up and\ndown in the sun, and when it cries, some one will be sure to die.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI didn't believe in them myself till one night I was coming home from\na wedding, and standing on the road beside me I saw John Kelly's\ndonkey that he always used to call Neddy. So he was standing in my\nway and I gave a blow at him and said, \"Get out of that, Neddy.\" And\nhe moved off only to come across me again, and to stop me from going\nin. And so he did all the way, till as I was going by a bit of wood I\nheard come out of it two of the clearest laughs that ever you heard,\nand then two sorts of shouts. So I knew that it was having fun with\nme they were, and that it was not Neddy was there, but his likeness.\n\nI knew a priest was stopped on the road one night by something in the\nshape of a big dog, and he couldn't make the horse pass it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night I saw the dog myself, in the boreen near my house. And that\nwas a bad bit of road, two or three were killed there.\n\nAnd one night I was between Kiltartan Chapel and Nolan's gate where I\nhad some sheep to look after for the priest. And the dog I had with\nme ran out into the middle of the road, and there he began to yelp\nand to fight. I stood and watched him for a while, and surely he was\nfighting with another dog, but there was nothing to be seen.\n\nAnd in the same part of the road one night I heard horses galloping,\ngalloping past me. I could hear their hoofs, and they shod, on the\nstones of the road. But though I stood aside and looked--and it was\nbright moonlight--there were no horses to be seen. But they were\nthere, and believe me they were not without riders.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWell, myself I once slept in a house with some strange thing. I had my\naunt then, Mrs. Leary, living near, and I but a small little girl at\nthe time. And one day she came to our house and asked would I go sleep\nwith her, and I said I would if she'd give me a ride on her back, and\nso she did. And for many a night after that she brought me to sleep\nwith her, and my mother used to be asking why, and she'd give no reason.\n\nWell, the cause of her wanting me was this. Every night so sure as\nshe put the candle out, _it_ would come and lie upon her feet and\nacross her body and near smother her, and she could feel it breathing\nbut could see nothing. I never felt anything at all myself, I being\nsound asleep before she quenched the light. At last she went to Father\nSmith--God rest his soul!--and he gave her a prayer to say at the\nmoment of the Elevation of the Mass. So the next time she attended Mass\nshe used it, and that night it was wickeder than ever it had been.\n\nSo after that she wrote to her son in America to buy a ticket for\nher, and she went out to him and remained some years. And it was only\nafter she came back she told me and my mother what used to happen on\nthose nights, and the reason she wanted me to be beside her.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was never any one saw so many of those things as Johnny\nHardiman's father on this estate, and now he's old and got silly, and\ncan't tell about them any more. One time he was walking into Gort\nalong the Kiltartan road, and he saw one of them before him in the\nform of a tub, and it rolling along.\n\nAnother time he was coming home from Kinvara, and a black and white\ndog came out against him from the wall, but he took no notice of it.\nBut when he got near his own house it came out against him again and\nbit him in the leg, and he got hold of it and lifted it up and took\nit by the throat and choked it; and when he was sure it was dead he\nthrew it by the roadside. But in the morning he went out first thing\nearly to look at the body, and there was no sign at all of it there.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSo I believe indeed that old Michael Barrett hears them and sees\nthem. But they do him no mischief nor harm at all. They wouldn't, and\nhe such an old resident. But there's many wouldn't believe he sees\nanything because they never seen them themselves.\n\nI never did but once, when I was a slip of a girl beyond at\nLissatiraheely, and one time I went across to the big forth to get a\ncan of water. And when I got near to it I heard voices, and when I\ncame to where the water runs out they were getting louder and louder.\nAnd I stopped and looked down, and there in the passage where the\nwater comes I seen a dog within, and there was a great noise--working\nI suppose they were. And I threw down the can and turned and ran, and\nnever went back for it again. But here since I lived in Coole I never\nseen anything and never was afeared of anything except one time only\nin the evening, when I was walking down the little by-lane that leads\nto Ballinamantane. And there standing in the path before me I seen the\nvery same dog that was in the old forth before. And I believe I leaped\nthe wall to get away into the high-road. And what day was that but\nthe very same day that Sir William--the Lord be with his soul!--was\nreturned a Member of Parliament, and a great night it was in Kiltartan.\n\nBut I'm noways afeared of anything and I give you my word I'd walk\nin the dead of night in the nut-wood or any other place--except only\nthe cross beyond Inchy, I'd sooner not go by there. There's two or\nthree has their life lost there--Heffernan of Kildesert, one of your\nladyship's own tenants, he was one. He was at a fair, and there was\na horse another man wanted, but he got inside him and got the horse.\nAnd when he was riding home, when he came to that spot it reared\nback and threw him, and he was taken up dead. And another man--one\nGallagher--fell off the top of a creel of turf in the same place and\nlost his life. And there was a woman hurted some way another time.\nWhat's that you're saying, John--that Gallagher had a drop too much\ntaken? That might be so indeed; and what call has a man that has\ndrink taken to go travel upon top of a creel of turf?\n\nThat dog I met in the boreen at Ballinamantane, he was the size of a\ncalf, and black, and his paws the size of I don't know what. I was\nsitting in the house one day, and he came in and sat down by the\ndresser and looked at me. And I didn't like the look of him when I\nsaw the big eyes of him, and the size of his legs. And just then a\nman came in that used to make his living by making mats, and he used\nto lodge with me for a night now and again. And he went out to bring\nhis cart away where he was afraid it'd be knocked about by the people\ngoing to the big bonefire at Kiltartan cross-roads. And when he went\nout I looked out the door, and there was the dog sitting under the\ncart. So he made a hit at it with a stick, and it was in the stones\nthe stick stuck, and there was the dog sitting at the other side of\nhim. So he came in and gave me abuse and said I must be a strange\nwoman to have such things about me. And he never would come to lodge\nwith me again. But didn't the dog behave well not to do him an injury\nafter he hitting it? It was surely some man that was in that dog,\nsome soul in trouble.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBeasts will sometimes see more than a man will. There were three\nyoung chaps I know went up near Ballyturn to hunt coneens (young\nrabbits) and they threw the dog over the wall. And when he was in the\nfield he gave a yelp and drew back as if something had struck him\non the head. And with all they could do, and the rabbits and the\nconeens running about the field, they couldn't get him to stir from\nthat and they had to come home with no rabbits.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time I was helping Sully, the butcher in Loughrea, and I had to go\nto a country house to bring in a measly pig the people had, and that he\nwas to allow them something for. So I got there late and had to stop\nthe night. And in the morning at daylight I looked from the window and\nsaw a cow eating the potatoes, so I went down to drive him off. And in\nthe kitchen there was lying by the hearth a dog, a speckled one, with\nspots of black and white and yellow. And when he saw me he got up and\nwent over to the door and went out through it. And then I saw that the\ndoor was shut and locked. So I went back again and told the people of\nthe house what I saw and they were frightened and made me stop the next\nnight. And in the night the clothes were taken off me and a heavy blow\nstruck me in the chest, and the feel of it was like the feel of ice. So\nI covered myself up again and put my hand under the bedclothes, and I\nnever came to that house again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI never seen anything myself, but I remember well that when I was a\nyoung chap there was a black dog between Coole gatehouse and Gort for\nmany a year, and many met him there. Tom Miller came running into\nour house one time when he was after seeing him, and at first sight\nhe thought he was a man, where he was standing with his paws up upon\nthe wall, and then he vanished out of sight. But there never was any\ncommon dog the size of him, and it's many a one saw him, and it was\nFather Boyle that banished him out of it at last.\n\n * * * * *\n\nExcept that thing at Inchy Weir, I never saw anything myself. But one\nevening I parted from Larry Cuniffe in the yard, and he went away\nthrough the path in Shanwalla and bid me goodnight. But two hours\nafter, there he was back again in the yard, and bid me light a candle\nwas in the stable. And he told me that when he got into Shanwalla a\nlittle chap about as high as his knee, but having a head as big as\na man's body, came beside him and led him out of the path and round\nabout, and at last it brought him to the limekiln, and there left him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is a dog now at Lismara, black and bigger than a natural dog,\nis about the roads at night. He wouldn't be there so long if any one\nhad the courage to question him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nStephen O'Donnell in Connemara told me that one time he shot a hare,\nand it turned into a woman, a neighbour of his own. And she had his\nbutter taken for the last two years, but she begged and prayed for\nlife on her knees, so he spared her, and she gave him back his butter\nafter that, a double yield.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman at Glenlough when I was young could change herself\ninto an eel. It was in Galway Workhouse Hospital she got the\nknowledge. A woman that had the knowledge of doing it by witchcraft\nasked her would she like to learn, and she said that she would, for\nshe didn't know what it would bring on her. For every time she did\nit, she'd be in bed a fortnight after with all she'd go through.\nSir Martin O'Neill when he was a young lad heard of it, and he got\nher into a room, and made her do it for him, and when he saw her\nchange to an eel he got frightened and tried to get away, but she got\nbetween him and the door, and showed her teeth at him and growled.\nShe wasn't the better of that for a fortnight after.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIndeed the porter did me great good, a good that I'd hardly like to\ntell you, not to make a scandal. Did I drink too much of it? Not at\nall, I have no fancy for it, but the nights seemed to be long. But\nthis long time I am feeling a worm in my side that is as big as an\neel, and there's more of them in it than that, and I was told to put\nsea-grass to it, and I put it to the side the other day, and whether\nit was that or the porter I don't know, but there's some of them gone\nout of it, and I think it's the porter.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI knew a woman near Clough was out milking her cow, and when she\ngot up to go away she saw one of those worms coming after her, and\nit eight feet long, and it made a jump about eight yards after her.\nAnd I heard of a man went asleep by a wall one time, and one of them\nwent down his throat and he never could get rid of it till a woman\nfrom the North came. And what she bade him do was to get a bit of old\ncrock butter and to make a big fire on the hearth, and to put the\nbutter in a half round on the hearth, and to get two men to hold him\nover it. And when the worms got the smell of the butter they jumped\nout of his mouth, seven or eight one after another, and it was in the\nfire they fell and they were burned, and that was an end of them.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to hares, there's something queer about them, and there's some\nthat it's dangerous to meddle with, and that can go into any form\nwhere they like. Sure, Mrs. Madden is after having a young son, and\nit has a harelip. But she says that she doesn't remember that ever\nshe met a hare or looked at one. But if she did, she had a right to\nrip a small bit of the seam of her dress or her petticoat, and then\nit would have no power to hurt her at all.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDoran the herd says, he wouldn't himself eat the flesh of a hare.\nThere's something unnatural about it. But as to them being unlucky,\nthat may be all talk. But there's no doubt at all that a cow is found\nsometimes to be run dry, and the hare to be seen coming away from her.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne time when we lived just behind Gort my father was going to a fair.\nAnd it was the custom in those days to set out a great deal earlier\nthan what it is now. So it was not much past midnight when he got up\nand went out the door, and the moon shining bright. And then he saw a\nhare walk in from the street and turn down by the garden, and another\nafter it, and another and another till he counted twelve. And they all\nwent straight one after another and vanished. And my father came in and\nshut the door, and never went out again till it was broad daylight.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man watching the fire where two hares were cooking and\nhe heard them whistling in the pot. And when the people of the house\ncame home they were afraid to touch them, but the man that heard the\nwhistling ate a good meal of them and was none the worse.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was an uncle of my own lived over near Garryland. And one day\nhimself and another man were going through the field, and they saw a\nhare, and the hound that was with them gave chase, and they followed.\n\nAnd the hound was gaining on the hare and it made for a house, where\nthe half-door was open. And the hound made a snap at it and touched\nit as it leaped the half-door. And when my uncle and the others came\nup, they could find no hare, but only an old woman in the house--and\nshe bleeding. So there's no doubt at all but it was she took the form\nof a hare. My uncle spent too much money after, and gave up his land\nand went to America.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to hares, there was a man out with his greyhound and it gave chase\nto a hare. And it made for a house, and went in at the window, and\nthe hound just touched the leg. And when the man came up, he found an\nold woman in the house, and he asked leave to search the house and so\nhe did in every place, but there was no hare to be seen. But when he\ncame in she was putting a pot on the fire, so he said that he must\nlook in the pot, and he took the cover off, and it was full of blood.\nAnd before the hound gave chase, he had seen the hare sucking the\nmilk from a cow.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to hares, there's no doubt at all there's some that's not natural.\nOne night I was making pot-whiskey up in that hill beyond. Yes\nindeed, for three year, I did little but run to and fro to the still,\nand one December, I was making it for the Christmas and I was taken\nand got nine weeks in gaol for it--and \u00a316 worth of whiskey spilled\nthat night. But there's mean people in the world; and he did it\nfor half a sovereign, and had to leave the country after and go to\nEngland. Well, one night, I was watching by the fire where it was too\nfierce, and it would have burned the oats. And over the hill and down\nthe path came two hares and walked on and into the wood. And two more\nafter that, and then by fours they came, and by sixes, and I'd want\na slate and a pencil to count all I saw, and it just at sunrise. And\nsome of them were as thin as thin. And there's no doubt at all that\nthose were not _hares_ I saw that night.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to hares, they're the biggest fairies of all. Last year the boys\nhad one caught, and I put it in the pot to wash it and it after being\nskinned, and I heard a noise come from the pot--grr-grr--and nothing\nbut cold water in it. And I ran to save my life, and I told the boys to\nhave nothing to do with it, but they wouldn't mind me. And when they\ntried to eat it, and it boiled, they couldn't get their teeth into the\nflesh of it, and as for the soup, it was no different from potato-water.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe village of Lissavohalane has a great name for such things.\nAnd it's certain that once one night every year, in the month of\nNovember, all the cats of the whole country round gather together\nthere and fight. My own two cats were nearly dead for days after it\nlast year, and the neighbours told me the same of theirs.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a woman had a cat and she would feed it at the table before\nany other one; and if it did not get the first meat that was cooked,\nthe hair would rise up as high as that. Well, there were priests came\nto dinner one day, and when they were helped the first, the hair\nrose up on the cat's back. And one of them said to the woman it was\na queer thing to give in to a cat the way she did, and that it was a\nfoolish thing to be giving it the first of the food. So when it heard\nthat, it walked out of the house, and never came into it again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere's something not right about cats. Steve Smith says he knew a\nkeeper that shot one, and it went into a sort of a heap, and when he\ncame near, it spoke, and he found it was some person, and it said\nit had to walk its seven acres. And there's some have heard them\ntogether at night talking Irish.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a hole over the door of the house that I used to live in,\nwhere Murphy's house is now, to let the smoke out, for there was no\nchimney. And one day a black cat jumped in at the hole, and stopped in\nthe house and never left us for a year. But on the day year he came he\njumped out again at the same hole and didn't go out of the door that\nwas standing open. There was no mistake about it, it was the day year.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs to cats, they're a class in themselves. They're good to catch\nmice and rats, but just let them come in and out of the house for\nthat; they're about their own business all the time. And in the old\ntimes they could talk. And it's said that the cats gave a shilling\nfor what they have; fourpence that the housekeeper might be careless\nand leave the milk about that they'd get at it; and fourpence that\nthey'd tread so light that no one would hear them, and fourpence that\nthey'd be able to see in the dark. And I might as well throw out\nthat drop of tea I left on the dresser to cool, for the cat is after\ntasting it and I wouldn't touch it after that. There might be a hair\nin it, and the hair of a cat is poison.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man had a house full of children, and one day he was\ntaking their measure for boots. And the cat that was sitting on the\nhearth said, \"Take my measure for a pair of boots along with the\nrest.\" So the man did, and when he went to the shoemaker he told him\nof what the cat had said. And there was a man in the shop at the\ntime, and he having two greyhounds with him, and one of them all\nblack without a single white hair. And he said, \"Bring the cat here\ntomorrow. You can tell it that the boots can't be made without it\ncoming for its measure.\" So the next day he brought the cat in a bag,\nand when he got to his shop the man was there with his greyhounds,\nand he let the cat out, and it praying him not to loosen the bag.\nAnd it made away through the fields and the hounds after it, and\nwhether it killed one of them I don't know, but anyhow the black\nhound killed it, the one that had not a white hair on its body.\n\n * * * * *\n\nYou should never be too attentive to a cat, but just to be civil and\nto give it its share.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCats were serpents, and they were made into cats at the time, I\nsuppose, of some change in the world. That's why they're hard to kill\nand why it's dangerous to meddle with them. If you annoy a cat it\nmight claw you or bite you in a way that would put poison in you, and\nthat would be the serpent's tooth.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was an uncle of mine near Galway, and one night his wife was\nvery sick, and he had to go to the village to get something for her.\nAnd it's a very lonely road, and as he was going what should he see\nbut a great number of cats, walking along the road, and they were\ncarrying a young cat, and crying it.\n\nAnd when he was on his way home again from the village he met them\nagain, and one of the cats turned and spoke to him like a person\nwould, and said, \"Bid Lady Betty to come to the funeral or she'll be\nlate.\" So he ran on home in a great fright, and he couldn't speak for\nsome time after getting back to the house, but sat there by the fire\nin a chair. And at last he began to tell his wife what had happened.\nAnd when he said that he had met a cat's funeral, his own cat that\nwas sleeping by the hearth began to stir her tail, and looked up at\nhim, affectionate like. But when he got to where he was bid send Lady\nBetty to the funeral, she made one dash at his face and scraped it,\nshe was so mad that she wasn't told at once. And then she began to\ntear at the door, that they had to let her out.\n\nFor cats is faeries, and every night they're obliged to travel over\nseven acres; that's why you hear them crying about the country. It\nwas an old woman at the strand told me that, and she should know, for\nshe lived to a hundred years of age.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI saw three young weasels out in the sea, squealing, squealing, for\nthey couldn't get to land, and I put out a bunch of seaweed and\nbrought them to the land, and they went away after. I did that for\nthem. Weasels are not _right_, no more than cats; and I'm not sure\nabout foxes.\n\n * * * * *\n\nRats are very bad, because a rat if one got the chance would do his\nbest to bite you, and I wouldn't like at all to get the bite of a\nrat. But weasels are serpents, and if they would spit at any part of\nyour body it would fester, and you would get blood poisoning within\ntwo hours.\n\nI knew an old doctor--Antony Coppinger at Clifden--and he told\nme that if the weasels had the power of other beasts they would\nnot leave a human living in the world. And he said the wild wide\nwilderness of the sea was full of beasts mostly the same as on earth,\nlike bonavs and like cattle, and they lying at the bottom of the sea\nas quiet as cows in a field.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt is wrong to insult a weasel, and if you pelt them or shoot them\nthey will watch for you forever to ruin you. For they are enchanted\nand understand all things.\n\nThere is Mrs. Coneely that lives up the road, she had a clutch of\nyoung geese on the floor, and a weasel walked in and brought away one\nof them, but she said nothing to that.\n\nBut it came in again, and took a hold of another of the geese and\nMrs. Coneely said, \"Oh, I'm not begrudging you what you have taken,\nbut leave these to me for it is hard I earned them, and it is great\ntrouble I had rearing them. But go,\" she said, \"to the shoemaker's\nhome beyond, where they have a clutch, and let you spare mine. And\nthat I may never sin,\" she said, \"but it walked out, for they can\nunderstand everything, and it did not leave one of the clutch that\nwas at the shoemaker's.\"\n\nIt is why I called to you now when I saw you sitting there so near\nto the sea; I thought the tide might steal up on you, or a weasel\nmight chance to come up with a fish in its mouth, and to give you a\nstart. It's best if you see one to speak nice to it, and to say,\n\"I wouldn't be begrudging you a pair of boots or of shoes if I had\nthem.\" If you treat them well they will treat you well.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd to see a weasel passing the road before you, there's nothing in\nthe world like that to bring you all sorts of good luck.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI was out in the field one time tilling potatoes, and two or three\nmore along with me, and a weasel put its head out of the wall--a\ndouble stone wall it was--and one of the lads fired a stone at it.\nWell, within a minute there wasn't a hole of the wall but a weasel\nhad put its head out of it, about a thousand of them, I saw that\nmyself. Very spiteful they are. I wouldn't like them.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe weasels, the poor creatures, they will do nothing at all on you\nif you behave well to them and let them alone, but if you do not,\nthey will not leave a chicken in the yard. And magpies, let you do\nnothing on them, or they will suck every egg and leave nothing in the\ngarden; but if you leave them to themselves they will do nothing but\nto come into the street to pick a bit with the birds.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe grany\u00f3g (hedgehog) will do no harm to chickens or the like;\nbut if he will get into an orchard he will stick an apple on every\nthorn, and away with him to a scalp with them to be eating through\nthe winter.\n\nI met with a grany\u00f3g one day on the mountain, and that I may never\nsin, he was running up the side of it as fast as a race-horse.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is not much luck in killing a seal. There was a man in these\nparts was very fond of shooting and killing them. And seals have\nclaws the same as cats, and he had two daughters, and when they were\nborn, they had claws the same as seals. I believe there is one of\nthem living yet.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut the thing it is not right to touch is the _ron_ (seal) for they\nare in the Sheogue. It is often I see them on the strand, sitting\nthere and wiping themselves on the rocks. And they have a hand with\nfive fingers, like any Christian. I seen six of them, coming in a\nboat one time with a man from Connemara, that is the time I saw they\nhad the five fingers.\n\nThere was a man killed one of them over there near the point. And he\ncame to the shore and it was night, and he was near dead with the want\nof a blast of a pipe, and he saw a light from a house on the side of a\nmountain, and he went in to ask a coal of fire to kindle the pipe. And\nwhen he went in, there was a woman, and she called out to a man that\nwas lying stretched on the bed in the room, and she said, \"Look till\nyou see who this man is.\" And the man that was on the bed says, \"I\nknow you, for I have the sign of your hand on me. And let you get out\nof this now,\" he said, \"as fast as you can, and it will be best for\nyou.\" And the daughter said to him, \"I wonder you to let him go as easy\nas that.\" And you may be sure the man made off and made no delay. It\nwas a Sheogue house that was; and the man on the bed was the _ron_ he\nhad killed, but he was not dead, being of the Sheogues.\n\n\n\n\n XIII\n\n FRIARS AND PRIEST CURES\n\n\n\n\n XIII\n\n FRIARS AND PRIEST CURES\n\n\n_An old woman begging at the door one day spoke of the cures done in\nher early days by the Friars at Esker to the north of our county. I\nasked if she had ever been there, and she burst into this praise of it:_\n\n_\"Esker is a grand place; this house and the house of Lough Cutra and\nyour own house at Roxborough, to put the three together it wouldn't\nbe as big as it; it is as big as the whole town of Gort, in its own\nway; you wouldn't have it walked in a month._\n\n_\"To go there you would get cured of anything unless it might be the\nstroke of the Fool that does be going with_ them; _it's best not be\ntalking of it. The clout he would give you, there is no cure for it._\n\n_\"Three barrels there are with water, and to see the first barrel\nboiling it is certain you will get a cure. A big friar will come out\nto meet us that is as big as three. Fat they do be that they can't\nhardly get through the door. Water there does be rushing down; you to\nstoop you would hear it talking; you would be afraid of the water._\n\n_\"One well for the rich and one well for the common; blue blinds to\nthe windows like little bars of timber without. You can see where the\nfriars are buried down dead to the end of the world._\n\n\"_They give out clothes to the poor, bedclothes and day clothes; it\nis the beautifullest place from heaven out; summer houses and pears;\nglass in the walls around._\"\n\n\n_I have been told:_\n\nThe Esker friars used to do great cures--Father Callaghan was the\nbest of them. They used to do it by reading, but what it was they\nread no one knew, some secret thing.\n\nThere was a girl brought from Clare one time, that had lost her wits,\nand she tied on a cart with ropes. And she was brought to Father\nCallaghan and he began reading over her, and then he made a second\nreading, and at the end of that, he bid them unloose the ropes,\nand when they did she got up quite quiet, but very shy looking and\nashamed, and would not wait for the cart but walked away.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFather Callaghan was with a man near this one time, one Tully, and\nthey were talking about the faeries and the man said he didn't\nbelieve in them at all. And Father Callaghan called him to the door\nand put up his fingers and bade him look out through them, and there\nhe saw hundreds and hundreds of the smallest little men he ever saw\nand they hurling and killing one another.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe friars are gone and there are missioners come in their place and\nall they would do for you is to bless holy water, and as long as you\nwould keep it, it would never get bad.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMy daughter, Mrs. Meehan, that lives there below, was very bad after\nher first baby being born, and she wasted away and the doctors could\ndo nothing for her. My husband went to Biddy Early for her, but she\nsaid, \"Mother for daughter, father for son\" and she could do nothing\nfor her because I didn't go. But I had promised God and the priest I\nwould never go to her, and so I kept to my word. But Mrs. Meehan was so\nbad she kept to the bed, and one day one of the neighbours said I had a\nright to bring her to the friars at Esker. And he said, \"It's today you\nshould be in it, Monday, for a Monday gospel is the best, the gospel\nof the Holy Ghost.\" So I got the cart after and put her in it, and she\nlying down, and we had to rest and to take out the horse at Lenane, and\nwe got to Craughwell for the night. And the man of the house where we\ngot lodging for the night said the priest that was doing cures now was\nFather Blake and he showed us the way to Esker. And when we got there\nhe was in the chapel, and my daughter was brought in and laid on a\nform, and I went out and waited with the cart, and within half an hour\nthe chapel door opened, and my daughter walked out that was carried\nin. And she got up on the cart herself. It was a gospel had been read\nover her. And I said, \"I wish you had asked a gospel to bring with you\nhome.\" And after that we saw a priest on the other side of a dry stone\nwall, and he learning three children. And she asked a gospel of him,\nand he said, \"What you had today will do you, and I haven't one made up\nat this time.\" So she came home well. She went another time there, when\nshe had something and asked for a gospel, and Father Blake said, \"We're\nout of doing it now, but as you were with us before, I'll do it for\nyou.\" And she wanted to give him \u00a31 but he said, \"If I took it I would\ndo nothing for you.\" So she said, \"I'll give it to the other man,\" and\nso she did.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI often saw Father Callaghan in Esker and the people brought to him\nin carts. Many cures he did, but he was prevented often. And I knew\nanother priest did many cures, but he was carried away himself after,\nto a lunatic asylum. And when he came back, he would do no more.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a little chap had but seven years, and he was doing no\ngood, but whistling and twirling, and the father went to Father\nCallaghan, that was just after coming out of the gaol when he got\nthere, for doing cures; it is a gaol of their own they had. The man\nasked him to do a cure on his son, and Father Callaghan said, \"I\nwouldn't like him to be brought here, but I will go some day to your\nhouse; I will go with my dog and my hound as if fowling, and I will\nbring no sign of a car or a carriage at all.\" So he came one day to\nthe house and knocked at the door. And when he came in he said to the\nfather, \"Go out and bring me in a bundle of sally rods that will be\nas thin as rushes, and divide them into six small parts,\" he said,\n\"and twist every one of the six parts together.\" And when that was\ndone, he took the little bundle of rods, and he beat the child on the\nhead with them one after another till they were in flitters and the\nchild roaring. Then he laid the child in the father's arms, and no\nsooner there than it fell asleep, and Father Callaghan said to the\nfather, \"What you have now is your own, but it wasn't your own that\nwas in it before.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere used to be swarms of people going to Esker, and Father Callaghan\nwould say in Irish, \"Let the people in the Sheogue stand at one side,\"\nand he would go over and read over them what he had to read.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was an uncle of my own was working at Ballycluan the time the\nQuakers were making a place there, and it was the habit when the\nsummer was hot to put the beds out into the barn. And one night he\nwas sleeping in the barn, and something came and lay on him in the\nbed; he could not see what it was, but it was about the size of the\nfoal of a horse. And the next night it came again and the next, and\nlay on him, and he put out his left hand to push it from him, and\nit went from him quite quiet, but if it did, when he rose in the\nmorning, he was not able to stretch out his hand, and he was a long\ntime like that and then his father brought him to the friars at\nEsker, and within twelve minutes one of them had him cured, reading\nover him, but I'm not sure was it Father Blake or Father Callaghan.\n\nBut it was not long after that till he fell off his cart as if he was\nknocked off it, and broke his leg. The coppinger had his leg cured,\nbut he did not live long, for the third thing happened was, he threw\nup his heart's blood and died.\n\nFor if you are cured of one thing that comes on you like that,\nanother thing will come on you in its place, or if not on you, on\nsome other person, maybe some one in your own family. It is very\noften I noticed that to happen.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe priests in old times used to have the power to cure strokes and\nmadness and the like, but the Pope and the Bishops have that stopped;\nthey said that the people will get out of witchcraft little by little.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPriests can do cures if they will, and it's not out of the Gospel\nthey do them, but out of a book specially for the purpose, so I\nbelieve. But something falls on them or on the things belonging to\nthem, if they do it too often.\n\nBut Father Keeley for certain did cures. It was he cured Mike\nMadden's neck, when everyone else had failed--so they had--though\nMike has never confessed to it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe priests can do cures surely, and surely they can put harm on you.\nBut they wouldn't do that unless they'd be sure a man would deserve it.\nOne time at that house you see up there beyond, Roche's, there was a\nwedding and there was some fighting came out of it, and bad blood. And\nFather Boyle was priest at that time, and he was vexed and he said he'd\ncome and have stations at the house, and they should all be reconciled.\n\nSo he came on the day he appointed and the house was settled like\na chapel, and some of the people there was bad blood between came,\nbut not all of them, and Roche himself was not there. And when\nthe stations were over Father Boyle got his book, and he read the\nnames of those he had told to be there, and they answered, like a\nschoolmaster would call out the names of his scholars. And when\nRoche's name was read and he not there to answer, with the dint of\nmadness Father Boyle quenched the candles on the altar, and he said\nthis house and all that belong to it will go away to nothing, like\nthe froth that's going down the river.\n\nAnd if you look at the house now you'll see the way it is, not a stable\nor an outhouse left standing, and not one of the whole family left in\nit but Roche, and he paralysed. So they can do both harm and good.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a man out in the mountains used to do cures, and one day on\na little road the priest met him, and stopped his car and began to\nabuse him for the cures he was doing.\n\nAnd then the priest went on, and when he had gone a bit of the road\nhis horse fell down. And he came back and called to the man and said,\n\"Come help me now, for this is your doing, to make the horse fall.\"\nAnd the man said, \"It's none of my doing, but it's the doing of my\nmaster, for he was vexed with the way you spoke. But go back now and\nyou'll find the horse as he was before.\" So he went back and the\nhorse had got up and was standing, and nothing wrong with him at all.\nAnd the priest said no more against him from that day.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMy son is lame this long time; a fine young man he was, about\nseventeen years--and a pain came in his knee all of a moment. I tried\ndoctors with him and I brought him to the friars in Loughrea, and one\nof them read a gospel over him, and the pain went after that, but the\nknee grew out to be twisted like. The friar said it was surely he had\nbeen overheated. A little old maneen he was, very ancient. I knew\nwell it was the _drochuil_ that did it; there by the side of the road\nhe was sitting when he got the frost.\n\nThere was a needlewoman used to be sewing late on a Saturday night,\nand sometimes if there was a button or a thread wanting she would put\nit in, even if it was Sunday morning; and she lived in Loughrea that\nis near your own home. And one day she went to the loch to get a can\nof water, and it was in her hand. And in a minute a blast of wind\ncame that rose all the dust and the straws and knocked herself. And\nmore than that, her mouth was twisted around to her poll.\n\nThere were some people saw her, and they brought her home, and within\na week her mother brought her to the priest. And when he saw her he\nsaid, \"You are the best mother ever there was, for if you had left\nher nine days without bringing her to me, all I could do would not\nhave taken off her what is on her.\" He asked then up to what time\ndid she work on the Saturday night, and she said up to one or two\no'clock, and sometimes on a Sunday morning. So he took off what was\non her, and bade her do that no more, and she got well, but to the\nlast there was a sort of a twisted turn in her mouth.\n\nThat woman now I am telling you of was an aunt of my own.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFather Nolan has a kind heart, and he'd do cures. But it's hard to\nget them, unless it would be for some they had a great interest in.\nBut Father McConaghy is so high in himself, he wouldn't do anything\nof that sort. When Johnny Dunne was bad, two years ago, and all but\ngiven over, he begged and prayed Father McConaghy to do it for him.\nAnd he refused and said, \"You must commit yourself to the mercy of\nAlmighty God,\" and Johnny Dunne, the poor man, said, \"It's a hard\nthing for a man that has a house full of children to be left to the\nmercy of Almighty God.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut there's _some_ that can help. My father told me long ago that my\nsister was lying sick for a long time, and one night a beggarman came\nto the door and asked for shelter. And he said, \"I can't give you\nshelter, with my daughter lying sick in the room.\" \"Let me in, it's\nbest for you,\" says he. And in the morning he went away, and the sick\ngirl rose up, as well as ever she was before.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFather Flaherty, when he was a curate, could open the eyes that were\nall but closed in death, but he wouldn't have such things spoken of\nnow. Losses they may have, but that's not all. Whatever evil thing\nthey raise, they may not have strength after to put it down again,\nand so they may be lost themselves in the end.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSurely they can do cures, and they can tell sometimes the hour you'd\ngo. There was a girl I knew was sick, and when the priest came and\nsaw her, he said, \"Between the two Masses tomorrow she'll be gone,\"\nand so she was. And those that saw her after, said that it was the\nface of her mother that died before that was on the bed, and that it\nwas her mother had taken her to where she was.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd Mike Barrett surely saw a man brought in a cart to Father\nCurley's house when he lived in Cloon, and carried upstairs to him,\nand he walked down out of the house again, sound and well. But they\nmust lose something when they do cures--either their health or\nsomething else, though many say no one did so many cures as Father\nFitzgerald when he was a curate. Father Airlie one time was called\nin to Glover's house where he was lying sick, and did a cure on him.\nAnd he had a cow at the time that was in calf. And soon after some\nman said to him \"The cow will be apt soon to calve,\" though it wasn't\nvery near the time. And Father Airlie said \"She'll never live to do\nthat.\" And sure enough in a couple of days after she was dead.\n\n\n\n\n SWEDENBORG, MEDIUMS, AND THE\n DESOLATE PLACES\n\n\n\n\n SWEDENBORG, MEDIUMS, AND THE\n DESOLATE PLACES\n\n I\n\n\nSome fifteen years ago I was in bad health and could not work, and\nLady Gregory brought me from cottage to cottage while she began to\ncollect the stories in this book, and presently when I was at work\nagain she went on with her collection alone till it grew to be, so\nfar as I know, the most considerable book of its kind. Except that I\nhad heard some story of \"The Battle of the Friends\" at Aran and had\ndivined that it might be the legendary common accompaniment of death,\nshe was not guided by any theory of mine, but recorded what came,\nwriting it out at each day's end and in the country dialect. It was at\nthis time mainly she got the knowledge of words that makes her little\ncomedies of country life so beautiful and so amusing. As that ancient\nsystem of belief unfolded before us, with unforeseen probabilities and\nplausibilities, it was as though we had begun to live in a dream, and\none day Lady Gregory said to me when we had passed an old man in the\nwood: \"That old man may know the secret of the ages.\"\n\nI had noticed many analogies in modern spiritism and began a more\ncareful comparison, going a good deal to s\u00e9ances for the first time\nand reading all writers of any reputation I could find in English\nor French. I found much that was moving, when I had climbed to the\ntop story of some house in Soho or Holloway, and, having paid my\nshilling, awaited, among servant girls, the wisdom of some fat old\nmedium. That is an absorbing drama, though if my readers begin to\nseek it they will spoil it, for its gravity and simplicity depends on\nall, or all but all, believing that their dead are near.\n\nI did not go there for evidence of the kind the Society for Psychical\nResearch would value, any more than I would seek it in Galway or\nin Aran. I was comparing one form of belief with another, and like\nParacelsus, who claimed to have collected his knowledge from midwife\nand hangman, I was discovering a philosophy. Certain things had\nhappened to me when alone in my own room which had convinced me that\nthere are spiritual intelligences which can warn us and advise us,\nand, as Anatole France has said, if one believes that the Devil can\nwalk the streets of Lisbon, it is not difficult to believe that he\ncan reach his arm over the river and light Don Juan's cigarette. And\nyet I do not think I have been easily convinced, for I know we make a\nfalse beauty by a denial of ugliness and that if we deny the causes\nof doubt we make a false faith, and that we must excite the whole\nbeing into activity if we would offer to God what is, it may be, the\none thing germane to the matter, a consenting of all our faculties.\nNot but that I doubt at times, with the animal doubt of the Middle\nAges that I have found even in pious countrywomen when they have\nseen some life come to an end like the stopping of a clock, or that\nall the perceptions of the soul, or the weightiest intellectual\ndeductions, are not at whiles but a feather in the daily show.\n\nI pieced together stray thoughts written out after questioning the\nfamiliar of a trance medium or automatic writer, by Allen Cardec,\nor by some American, or by myself, or arranged the fragments into\nsome pattern, till I believed myself the discoverer of a vast\ngeneralization. I lived in excitement, amused to make Holloway\ninterpret Aran, and constantly comparing my discoveries with what I\nhave learned of medi\u00e6val tradition among fellow students, with the\nreveries of a Neo-platonist, of a seventeenth-century Platonist, of\nParacelsus or a Japanese poet. Then one day I opened _The Spiritual\nDiary_ of Swedenborg, which I had not taken down for twenty years,\nand found all there, even certain thoughts I had not set on paper\nbecause they had seemed fantastic from the lack of some traditional\nfoundation. It was strange I should have forgotten so completely a\nwriter I had read with some care before the fascination of Blake and\nBoehme had led me away.\n\n\n II\n\nIt was indeed Swedenborg who affirmed for the modern world, as\nagainst the abstract reasoning of the learned, the doctrine and\npractice of the desolate places, of shepherds and of midwives, and\ndiscovered a world of spirits where there was a scenery like that of\nearth, human forms, grotesque or beautiful, senses that knew pleasure\nand pain, marriage and war, all that could be painted upon canvas,\nor put into stories to make one's hair stand up. He had mastered the\nscience of his time, he had written innumerable scientific works in\nLatin, had been the first to formulate the nebular hypothesis and\nwrote a cold abstract style, the result it may be of preoccupation\nwith stones and metals, for he had been assessor of mines to the\nSwedish Government, and of continual composition in a dead language.\n\nIn his fifty-eighth year he was sitting in an inn in London, where\nhe had gone about the publication of a book, when a spirit appeared\nbefore him who was, he believed, Christ himself, and told him that\nhenceforth he could commune with spirits and angels. From that moment\nhe was a mysterious man describing distant events as if they were\nbefore his eyes, and knowing dead men's secrets, if we are to accept\ntestimony that seemed convincing to Emmanuel Kant. The sailors who\ncarried him upon his many voyages spoke of the charming of the waves\nand of favouring winds that brought them sooner than ever before\nto their journey's end, and an ambassador described how a queen, he\nhimself looking on, fainted when Swedenborg whispered in her ear\nsome secret known only to her and to her dead brother. And all this\nhappened to a man without egotism, without drama, without a sense\nof the picturesque, and who wrote a dry language, lacking fire and\nemotion, and who to William Blake seemed but an arranger and putter\naway of the old Church, a Samson shorn by the churches, an author not\nof a book, but of an index. He considered heaven and hell and God,\nthe angels, the whole destiny of man, as if he were sitting before a\nlarge table in a Government office putting little pieces of mineral\nore into small square boxes for an assistant to pack away in drawers.\n\nAll angels were once men, he says, and it is therefore men who have\nentered into what he calls the Celestial State and become angels,\nwho attend us immediately after death, and communicate to us their\nthoughts, not by speaking, but by looking us in the face as they\nsit beside the head of our body. When they find their thoughts are\ncommunicated they know the time has come to separate the spiritual\nfrom the physical body. If a man begins to feel that he can endure\nthem no longer, as he doubtless will, for in their presence he can\nthink and feel but sees nothing, lesser angels who belong to truth\nmore than to love take their place and he is in the light again, but\nin all likelihood these angels also will be too high and he will\nslip from state to state until he finds himself after a few days\n\"with those who are in accord with his life in the world; with them\nhe finds his life, and, wonderful to relate, he then leads a life\nsimilar to that he led in the world.\" This first state of shifting and\nreadjustment seems to correspond with a state of sleep more modern\nseers discover to follow upon death. It is characteristic of his whole\nreligious system, the slow drifting of like to like. Then follows a\nperiod which may last but a short time or many years, while the soul\nlives a life so like that of the world that it may not even believe\nthat it has died, for \"when what is spiritual touches and sees what\nis spiritual the effect is the same as when what is natural touches\nwhat is natural.\" It is the other world of the early races, of those\nwhose dead are in the rath or the faery hill, of all who see no place\nof reward and punishment but a continuance of this life, with cattle\nand sheep, markets and war. He describes what he has seen, and only\npartly explains it, for, unlike science which is founded upon past\nexperience, his work, by the very nature of his gift, looks for the\nclearing away of obscurities to unrecorded experience. He is revealing\nsomething and that which is revealed, so long as it remains modest\nand simple, has the same right with the child in the cradle to put\noff to the future the testimony of its worth. This earth-resembling\nlife is the creation of the image-making power of the mind, plucked\nnaked from the body, and mainly of the images in the memory. All our\nwork has gone with us, the books we have written can be opened and\nread or put away for later use, even though their print and paper have\nbeen sold to the buttermen; and reading his description one notices,\na discovery one had thought peculiar to the last generation, that the\n\"most minute particulars which enter the memory remain there and are\nnever obliterated,\" and there as here we do not always know all that\nis in our memory, but at need angelic spirits who act upon us there as\nhere, widening and deepening the consciousness at will, can draw forth\nall the past, and make us live again all our transgressions and see our\nvictims \"as if they were present, together with the place, words, and\nmotives\"; and that suddenly, \"as when a scene bursts upon the sight\"\nand yet continues \"for hours together,\" and like the transgressions,\nall the pleasure and pain of sensible life awaken again and again, all\nour passionate events rush up about us and not as seeming imagination,\nfor imagination is now the world. And yet another impulse comes and\ngoes, flitting through all, a preparation for the spiritual abyss,\nfor out of the celestial world, immediately beyond the world of form,\nfall certain seeds as it were that exfoliate through us into forms,\nelaborate scenes, buildings, alterations of form that are related\nby \"correspondence\" or \"signature\" to celestial incomprehensible\nrealities. Meanwhile those who have loved or fought see one another\nin the unfolding of a dream, believing it may be that they wound one\nanother or kill one another, severing arms or hands, or that their lips\nare joined in a kiss, and the countryman has need but of Swedenborg's\nkeen ears and eagle sight to hear a noise of swords in the empty\nvalley, or to meet the old master hunting with all his hounds upon the\nstroke of midnight among the moonlit fields. But gradually we begin to\nchange and possess only those memories we have related to our emotion\nor our thought; all that was accidental or habitual dies away and we\nbegin an active present life, for apart from that calling up of the\npast we are not punished or rewarded for our actions when in the world\nbut only for what we do when out of it. Up till now we have disguised\nour real selves and those who have lived well for fear or favour have\nwalked with holy men and women, and the wise man and the dunce have\nbeen associated in common learning, but now the ruling love has begun\nto remake circumstance and our body.\n\nSwedenborg had spoken with shades that had been learned Latinists, or\nnotable Hebrew scholars, and found, because they had done everything\nfrom the memory and nothing from thought and emotion, they had become\nbut simple men. We have already met our friends, but if we were to meet\nthem now for the first time we should not recognize them, for all has\nbeen kneaded up anew, arrayed in order and made one piece. \"Every man\nhas many loves, but still they all have reference to his ruling love\nand make one with it or together compose it,\" and our surrender to that\nlove, as to supreme good, is no new thought, for Villiers de l'Isle\nAdam quotes Thomas Aquinas as having said, \"Eternity is the possession\nof one's self, as in a single moment.\" During the fusing and rending\nman flits, as it were, from one flock of the dead to another, seeking\nalways those who are like himself, for as he puts off disguise he\nbecomes unable to endure what is unrelated to his love, even becoming\ninsane among things that are too fine for him.\n\nSo heaven and hell are built always anew and in hell or heaven all do\nwhat they please and all are surrounded by scenes and circumstance\nwhich are the expression of their natures and the creation of their\nthought. Swedenborg because he belongs to an eighteenth century not yet\ntouched by the romantic revival feels horror amid rocky uninhabited\nplaces, and so believes that the evil are in such places while the good\nare amid smooth grass and garden walks and the clear sunlight of Claude\nLorraine. He describes all in matter-of-fact words, his meeting with\nthis or that dead man, and the place where he found him, and yet we\nare not to understand him literally, for space as we know it has come\nto an end and a difference of state has begun to take its place, and\nwherever a spirit's thought is, the spirit cannot help but be. Nor\nshould we think of spirit as divided from spirit, as men are from each\nother, for they share each other's thoughts and life, and those whom he\nhas called celestial angels, while themselves mediums to those above,\ncommune with men and lower spirits, through orders of mediatorial\nspirits, not by a conveyance of messages, but as though a hand were\nthrust within a hundred gloves,[1] one glove outside another, and so\nthere is a continual influx from God to man. It flows to us through the\nevil angels as through the good, for the dark fire is the perversion\nof God's life and the evil angels have their office in the equilibrium\nthat is our freedom, in the building of that fabulous bridge made out\nof the edge of a sword.\n\nTo the eyes of those that are in the high heaven \"all things laugh,\nsport, and live,\" and not merely because they are beautiful things but\nbecause they arouse by a minute correspondence of form and emotion\nthe heart's activity, and being founded, as it were, in this changing\nheart, all things continually change and shimmer. The garments of all\nbefit minutely their affections, those that have most wisdom and most\nlove being the most nobly garmented, in ascending order from shimmering\nwhite, through garments of many colours and garments that are like\nflame, to the angels of the highest heaven that are naked.\n\nIn the west of Ireland the country people say that after death every\nman grows upward or downward to the likeness of thirty years, perhaps\nbecause at that age Christ began his ministry, and stays always in\nthat likeness; and these angels move always towards \"the springtime\nof their life\" and grow more and more beautiful, \"the more thousand\nyears they live,\" and women who have died infirm with age, and yet\nlived in faith and charity, and true love towards husband or lover,\ncome \"after a succession of years\" to an adolescence that was not in\nHelen's Mirror, \"for to grow old in heaven is to grow young.\"\n\nThere went on about Swedenborg an intermittent \"Battle of the\nFriends\" and on certain occasions had not the good fought upon his\nside, the evil troop, by some carriage accident or the like, would\nhave caused his death, for all associations of good spirits have an\nanswering mob, whose members grow more hateful to look on through the\ncenturies. \"Their faces in general are horrible, and empty of life\nlike corpses, those of some are black, of some fiery like torches,\nof some hideous with pimples, boils, and ulcers; with many no face\nappears, but in its place a something hairy or bony, and in some one\ncan but see the teeth.\" And yet among themselves they are seeming men\nand but show their right appearance when the light of heaven, which\nof all things they most dread, beats upon them; and seem to live in a\nmalignant gaiety, and they burn always in a fire that is God's love\nand wisdom, changed into their own hunger and misbelief.\n\n\n III\n\nIn Lady Gregory's stories there is a man who heard the newly dropped\nlambs of faery crying in November, and much evidence to show a\ntopsy-turvydom of seasons, our spring being their autumn, our winter\ntheir summer, and Mary Battle, my Uncle George Pollexfen's old\nservant, was accustomed to say that no dream had a true meaning after\nthe rise of the sap; and Lady Gregory learned somewhere on Sleive\nOchta that if one told one's dreams to the trees fasting the trees\nwould wither. Swedenborg saw some like opposition of the worlds, for\nwhat hides the spirits from our sight and touch, as he explains,\nis that their light and heat are darkness and cold to us and our\nlight and heat darkness and cold to them, but they can see the\nworld through our eyes and so make our light their light. He seems\nhowever to warn us against a movement whose philosophy he announced\nor created, when he tells us to seek no conscious intercourse with\nany that fall short of the celestial rank. At ordinary times they do\nnot see us or know that we are near, but when we speak to them we\nare in danger of their deceits. \"They have a passion for inventing,\"\nand do not always know that they invent. \"It has been shown me many\ntimes that the spirits speaking with me did not know but that they\nwere the men and women I was thinking of; neither did other spirits\nknow the contrary. Thus yesterday and today one known of me in life\nwas personated. The personation was so like him in all respects, so\nfar as known to me, that nothing could be more like. For there are\ngenera and species of spirits of similar faculty (? as the dead whom\nwe seek), and when like things are called up in the memory of men and\nso are represented to them they think they are the same persons. At\nother times they enter into the fantasy of other spirits and think\nthat they are them, and sometimes they will even believe themselves\nto be the Holy Spirit,\" and as they identify themselves with a man's\naffection or enthusiasm they may drive him to ruin, and even an angel\nwill join himself so completely to a man that he scarcely knows \"that\nhe does not know of himself what the man knows,\" and when they speak\nwith a man they can but speak in that man's mother tongue, and this\nthey can do without taking thought, for \"it is almost as when a man\nis speaking and thinks nothing about his words.\" Yet when they leave\nthe man \"they are in their own angelical or spiritual language and\nknow nothing of the language of the man.\" They are not even permitted\nto talk to a man from their own memory for did they do so the man\nwould not know \"but that the things he would then think were his when\nyet they would belong to the spirit,\" and it is these sudden memories\noccurring sometimes by accident, and without God's permission that\ngave the Greeks the idea they had lived before. They have bodies\nas plastic as their minds that flow so readily into the mould of\nours and he remembers having seen the face of a spirit change\ncontinuously and yet keep always a certain generic likeness. It had\nbut run through the features of the individual ghosts of the fleet it\nbelonged to, of those bound into the one mediatorial communion.\n\nHe speaks too, again and again, of seeing palaces and mountain ranges\nand all manner of scenery built up in a moment, and even believes\nin imponderable troops of magicians that build the like out of some\ndeceit or in malicious sport.\n\n\n IV\n\nThere is in Swedenborg's manner of expression a seeming\nsuperficiality. We follow an easy narrative, sometimes incredulous,\nbut always, as we think, understanding, for his moral conceptions are\nsimple, his technical terms continually repeated, and for the most\npart we need but turn for his \"correspondence,\" his symbolism as we\nwould say, to the index of his _Arcana Celestia_. Presently, however,\nwe discover that he treads upon this surface by an achievement of\npower almost as full of astonishment as if he should walk upon\nwater charmed to stillness by some halcyon; while his disciple and\nantagonist Blake is like a man swimming in a tumbling sea, surface\ngiving way to surface and deep showing under broken deep. A later\nmystic has said of Swedenborg that he but half felt, half saw, half\ntasted the kingdom of heaven, and his abstraction, his dryness, his\nhabit of seeing but one element in everything, his lack of moral\nspeculation have made him the founder of a church, while William\nBlake, who grows always more exciting with every year of life, grows\nalso more obscure. An impulse towards what is definite and sensuous,\nand an indifference towards the abstract and the general, are the\nlineaments, as I understand the world, of all that comes not from the\nlearned, but out of common antiquity, out of the \"folk\" as we say,\nand in certain languages, Irish for instance--and these languages are\nall poetry--it is not possible to speak an abstract thought. This\nimpulse went out of Swedenborg when he turned from vision. It was\ninseparable from this primitive faculty, but was not a part of his\ndaily bread, whereas Blake carried it to a passion and made it the\nfoundation of his thought. Blake was put into a rage by all painting\nwhere detail is generalized away, and complained that Englishmen\nafter the French Revolution became as like one another as the dots\nand lozenges in the mechanical engraving of his time, and he hated\nhistories that gave us reasoning and deduction in place of the\nevents, and St. Paul's Cathedral because it came from a mathematical\nmind, and told Crabb Robinson that he preferred to any others a\nhappy, thoughtless person. Unlike Swedenborg he believed that the\nantiquities of all peoples were as sacred as those of the Jews, and\nso rejecting authority and claiming that the same law for the lion\nand the ox was oppression, he could believe \"all that lives is holy,\"\nand say that a man if he but cultivated the power of vision would\nsee the truth in a way suited \"to his imaginative energy,\" and with\nonly so much resemblance to the way it showed in for other men, as\nthere is between different human forms. Born when Swedenborg was a\nnew excitement, growing up with a Swedenborgian brother, who annoyed\nhim \"with bread and cheese advice,\" and having, it may be, for\nnearest friend the Swedenborgian Flaxman with whom he would presently\nquarrel, he answered the just translated _Heaven and Hell_ with the\nparadoxical violence of _The Marriage of Heaven and Hell_. Swedenborg\nwas but \"the linen clothes folded up\" or the angel sitting by the\ntomb, after Christ, the human imagination, had arisen. His own memory\nbeing full of images from painting and from poetry he discovered more\nprofound \"correspondences,\" yet always in his boys and girls walking\nor dancing on smooth grass and in golden light, as in pastoral scenes\ncut upon wood or copper by his disciples Palmer and Calvert one\nnotices the peaceful Swedenborgian heaven. We come there, however, by\nno obedience but by the energy that \"is eternal delight,\" for \"the\ntreasures of heaven are not negations of passion but realities of\nintellect from which the passions emanate uncurbed in their eternal\nglory.\" He would have us talk no more \"of the good man and the bad,\"\nbut only of \"the wise man and the foolish,\" and he cries, \"Go put off\nholiness and put on intellect.\"\n\nHigher than all souls that seem to theology to have found a final\nstate, above good and evil, neither accused, nor yet accusing, live\nthose, who have come to freedom, their senses sharpened by eternity,\npiping or dancing or \"like the gay fishes on the wave when the moon\nsucks up the dew.\" Merlin, who in the verses of Chr\u00e9tien de Troyes\nwas laid in the one tomb with dead lovers, is very near and the\nsaints are far away. Believing too that crucifixion and resurrection\nwere the soul's diary and no mere historical events, which had been\ntransacted in vain should a man come again from the womb and forget\nhis salvation, he could cleave to the heroic doctrine the angel in\nthe crystal made Sir Thomas Kelly renounce and have a \"vague memory\"\nof having been \"with Christ and Socrates\"; and stirred as deeply\nby hill and tree as by human beauty, he saw all Merlin's people,\nspirits \"of vegetable nature\" and fairies whom we \"call accident and\nchance.\" He made possible a religious life to those who had seen the\npainters and poets of the romantic movement succeed to theology, but\nthe shepherd and the midwife had they known him would have celebrated\nhim in stories, and turned away from his thought, understanding that\nhe was upon an errand to their masters. Like Swedenborg he believed\nthat heaven came from \"an improvement of sensual enjoyment,\" for\nsight and hearing, taste and touch grow with the angelic years, but\nunlike him he could convey to others \"enlarged and numerous senses,\"\nand the mass of men know instinctively they are safer with an\nabstract and an index.\n\n\n V\n\nIt was, I believe, the Frenchman Allen Cardec and an American\nshoemaker's clerk called Jackson Davis, who first adapted to the s\u00e9ance\nroom the philosophy of Swedenborg. I find Davis whose style is vague,\nvoluble, and pretentious, almost unreadable, and yet his books have\ngone to many editions and are full of stories that had been charming or\nexciting had he lived in Connaught or any place else, where the general\nmass of the people has an imaginative tongue. His mother was learned\nin country superstition, and had called in a knowledgeable man when\nshe believed a neighbour had bewitched a cow, but it was not till his\nfifteenth year that he discovered his faculty, when his native village,\nPoughkeepsie, was visited by a travelling mesmerist. He was fascinated\nby the new marvel, and mesmerized by a neighbour he became clairvoyant,\ndescribing the diseases of those present and reading watches he could\nnot see with his eyes. One night the neighbour failed to awake him\ncompletely from the trance and he stumbled out into the street and\nwent to his bed ill and stupefied. In the middle of the night he heard\na voice telling him to get up and dress himself and follow. He wandered\nfor miles, now wondering at what seemed the unusual brightness of the\nstars and once passing a visionary shepherd and his flock of sheep, and\nthen again stumbling in cold and darkness. He crossed the frozen Hudson\nand became unconscious. He awoke in a mountain valley to see once more\nthe visionary shepherd and his flock, and a very little, handsome, old\nman who showed him a scroll and told him to write his name upon it.\n\nA little later he passed, as he believed, from this mesmeric condition\nand found that he was among the Catskill Mountains and more than forty\nmiles from home. Having crossed the Hudson again he felt the trance\ncoming upon him and began to run. He ran, as he thought, many miles\nand as he ran became unconscious. When he awoke he was sitting upon a\ngravestone in a graveyard surrounded by a wood and a high wall. Many\nof the gravestones were old and broken. After much conversation with\ntwo stately phantoms, he went stumbling on his way. Presently he found\nhimself at home again. It was evening and the mesmerist was questioning\nhim as to where he had been since they lost him the night before.\nHe was very hungry and had a vague memory of his return, of country\nroads passing before his eyes in brief moments of wakefulness. He now\nseemed to know that one of the phantoms with whom he had spoken in the\ngraveyard was the physician Galen, and the other, Swedenborg.\n\nFrom that hour the two phantoms came to him again and again, the\none advising him in the diagnosis of disease, and the other in\nphilosophy. He quoted a passage from Swedenborg, and it seemed\nimpossible that any copy of the newly translated book that contained\nit could have come into his hands, for a Swedenborgian minister in\nNew York traced every copy which had reached America.\n\nSwedenborg himself had gone upon more than one somnambulistic\njourney, and they occur a number of times in Lady Gregory's stories,\none woman saying that when she was among the faeries she was often\nglad to eat the food from the pigs' troughs.\n\nOnce in childhood, Davis, while hurrying home through a wood, heard\nfootsteps behind him and began to run, but the footsteps, though they\ndid not seem to come more quickly and were still the regular pace of\na man walking, came nearer. Presently he saw an old, white-haired\nman beside him who said: \"You cannot run away from life,\" and asked\nhim where he was going. \"I am going home,\" he said, and the phantom\nanswered, \"I also am going home,\" and then vanished. Twice in later\nchildhood, and a third time when he had grown to be a young man, he\nwas overtaken by the same phantom and the same words were spoken,\nbut the last time he asked why it had vanished so suddenly. It said\nthat it had not, but that he had supposed that \"changes of state\"\nin himself were \"appearance and disappearance.\" It then touched him\nwith one finger upon the side of his head, and the place where he was\ntouched remained ever after without feeling, like those places always\nsearched for at the witches' trials. One remembers \"the touch\" and\n\"the stroke\" in the Irish stories.\n\n\n VI\n\nAllen Cardec, whose books are much more readable than those of Davis,\nhad himself no mediumistic gifts. He gathered the opinions, as he\nbelieved, of spirits speaking through a great number of automatists\nand trance speakers, and all the essential thought of Swedenborg\nremains, but like Davis, these spirits do not believe in an eternal\nHell, and like Blake they describe unhuman races, powers of the\nelements, and declare that the soul is no creature of the womb,\nhaving lived many lives upon the earth. The sorrow of death, they\ntell us again and again, is not so bitter as the sorrow of birth,\nand had our ears the subtlety we could listen amid the joy of lovers\nand the pleasure that comes with sleep to the wailing of the spirit\nbetrayed into a cradle. Who was it that wrote: \"O Pythagoras, so\ngood, so wise, so eloquent, upon my last voyage, I taught thee, a\nsoft lad, to splice a rope\"?\n\nThis belief, common among continental spiritists, is denied by those\nof England and America, and if one question the voices at a s\u00e9ance\nthey take sides according to the medium's nationality. I have even\nheard what professed to be the shade of an old English naval officer\ndenying it with a fine phrase: \"I did not leave my oars crossed; I\nleft them side by side.\"\n\n\n VII\n\nMuch as a hashish eater will discover in the folds of a curtain a\nfigure beautifully drawn and full of delicate detail all built up out\nof shadows that show to other eyes, or later to his own, a different\nform or none, Swedenborg discovered in the Bible the personal symbolism\nof his vision. If the Bible was upon his side, as it seemed, he had\nno need of other evidence, but had he lived when modern criticism\nhad lessened its authority, even had he been compelled to say that\nthe primitive beliefs of all peoples were as sacred, he could but\nhave run to his own gift for evidence. He might even have held of\nsome importance his powers of discovering the personal secrets of the\ndead and set up as medium. Yet it is more likely he had refused, for\nthe medium has his gift from no heightening of all the emotions and\nintellectual faculties till they seem as it were to take fire, but\ncommonly because they are altogether or in part extinguished while\nanother mind controls his body. He is greatly subject to trance and\nawakes to remember nothing, whereas the mystic and the saint plead\nunbroken consciousness. Indeed the author of _Sidonia the Sorceress_,\na really learned authority, considered this lack of memory a certain\nsign of possession by the devil, though this is too absolute. Only\nyesterday, while walking in a field, I made up a good sentence with an\nemotion of triumph, and half a minute after could not even remember\nwhat it was about, and several minutes had gone by before I as suddenly\nfound it. For the most part, though not always, it is this unconscious\ncondition of mediumship, a dangerous condition it may be, that seems\nto make possible \"physical phenomena\" and that overshadowing of the\nmemory by some spirit memory, which Swedenborg thought an accident and\nunlawful.\n\nIn describing and explaining this mediumship and so making\nintelligible the stories of Aran and Galway I shall say very seldom,\n\"it is said,\" or \"Mr. So-and-So reports,\" or \"it is claimed by the\nbest authors.\" I shall write as if what I describe were everywhere\nestablished, everywhere accepted, and I had only to remind my reader\nof what he already knows. Even if incredulous he will give me his\nfancy for certain minutes, for at the worst I can show him a gorgon\nor chimera that has never lacked gazers, alleging nothing (and I do\nnot write out of a little knowledge) that is not among the sober\nbeliefs of many men, or obvious inference from those beliefs, and if\nhe wants more--well, he will find it in the best authors.[2]\n\n\n VIII\n\nAll spirits for some time after death, and the \"earth-bound,\" as\nthey are called, the larv\u00e6, as Beaumont, the seventeenth-century\nPlatonist, preferred to call them, those who cannot become\ndisentangled from old habits and desires, for many years, it may be\nfor centuries, keep the shape of their earthly bodies and carry on\ntheir old activities, wooing or quarrelling, or totting figures on a\ntable, in a round of dull duties or passionate events. Today while\nthe great battle in Northern France is still undecided, should I\nclimb to the top of that old house in Soho where a medium is sitting\namong servant girls, some one would, it may be, ask for news of\nGordon Highlander or Munster Fusilier, and the fat old woman would\ntell in Cockney language how the dead do not yet know they are dead,\nbut stumble on amid visionary smoke and noise, and how angelic\nspirits seek to awaken them but still in vain.\n\nThose who have attained to nobler form, when they appear in the\ns\u00e9ance room, create temporary bodies, commonly like to those they\nwore when living, through some unconscious constraint of memory, or\ndeliberately, that they may be recognized. Davis, in his literal\nway, said the first sixty feet of the atmosphere was a reflector and\nthat in almost every case it was mere images we spoke with in the\ns\u00e9ance room, the spirit itself being far away. The images are made\nof a substance drawn from the medium who loses weight, and in a less\ndegree from all present, and for this light must be extinguished or\ndimmed or shaded with red as in a photographer's room. The image will\nbegin outside the medium's body as a luminous cloud, or in a sort of\nluminous mud forced from the body, out of the mouth it may be, from\nthe side or from the lower parts of the body.[3] One may see a vague\ncloud condense and diminish into a head or arm or a whole figure of a\nman, or to some animal shape.\n\nI remember a story told me by a friend's steward in Galway of the\nfaeries playing at hurley in a field and going in and out of the\nbodies of two men who stood at either goal. Out of the medium will\ncome perhaps a cripple or a man bent with years and sometimes the\napparition will explain that, but for some family portrait, or for\nwhat it lit on while rumaging in our memories, it had not remembered\nits customary clothes or features, or cough or limp or crutch.\nSometimes, indeed, there is a strange regularity of feature and\nwe suspect the presence of an image that may never have lived, an\nartificial beauty that may have shown itself in the Greek mysteries.\nHas some cast in the Vatican, or at Bloomsbury been the model? Or\nthere may float before our eyes a mask as strange and powerful as the\nlineaments of the Servian's _Frowning Man_ or of Rodin's _Man with\nthe Broken Nose_. And once a rumour ran among the s\u00e9ance rooms to\nthe bewilderment of simple believers, that a heavy middle-aged man\nwho took snuff, and wore the costume of a past time, had appeared\nwhile a French medium was in his trance, and somebody had recognized\nthe Tartuffe of the Com\u00e9die Fran\u00e7aise. There will be few complete\nforms, for the dead are economical, and a head, or just enough of\nthe body for recognition, may show itself above hanging folds of\ndrapery that do not seem to cover solid limbs, or a hand or foot is\nlacking, or it may be that some _Revenant_ has seized the half-made\nimage of another, and a young girl's arm will be thrust from the\nwithered body of an old man. Nor is every form a breathing and\npulsing thing, for some may have a distribution of light and shade\nnot that of the s\u00e9ance room, flat pictures whose eyes gleam and move;\nand sometimes material objects are thrown together (drifted in from\nsome neighbour's wardrobe, it may be, and drifted thither again)\nand an appearance kneaded up out of these and that luminous mud or\nvapour almost as vivid as are those pictures of Antonio Mancini which\nhave fragments of his paint tubes embedded for the high lights into\nthe heavy masses of the paint. Sometimes there are animals, bears\nfrequently for some unknown reason, but most often birds and dogs. If\nan image speak it will seldom seem very able or alert, for they come\nfor recognition only, and their minds are strained and fragmentary;\nand should the dogs bark, a man who knows the language of our dogs\nmay not be able to say if they are hungry or afraid or glad to meet\ntheir master again. All may seem histrionic or a hollow show. We are\nthe spectators of a phantasmagoria that affects the photographic\nplate or leaves its moulded image in a preparation of paraffin. We\nhave come to understand why the Platonists of the sixteenth and\nseventeenth centuries, and visionaries like Boehme and Paracelsus\nconfused imagination with magic, and why Boehme will have it that it\n\"creates and substantiates as it goes.\"\n\nMost commonly, however, especially of recent years, no form will show\nitself, or but vaguely and faintly and in no way ponderable, and\ninstead there will be voices flitting here and there in darkness,\nor in the half-light, or it will be the medium himself fallen into\ntrance who will speak, or without a trance write from a knowledge and\nintelligence not his own. Glanvil, the seventeenth-century Platonist,\nsaid that the higher spirits were those least capable of showing\nmaterial effects, and it seems plain from certain Polish experiments\nthat the intelligence of the communicators increases with their\neconomy of substance and energy. Often now among these faint effects\none will seem to speak with the very dead. They will speak or write\nsome tongue that the medium does not know and give correctly their\nforgotten names, or describe events one only verifies after weeks\nof labour. Here and there amongst them one discovers a wise and\nbenevolent mind that knows a little of the future and can give good\nadvice. They have made, one imagines, from some finer substance than\na phosphorescent mud, or cobweb vapour that we can see or handle,\nimages not wholly different from themselves, figures in a galanty\nshow not too strained or too extravagant to speak their very thought.\n\nYet we never long escape the phantasmagoria nor can long forget\nthat we are among the shape-changers. Sometimes our own minds shape\nthat mysterious substance, which may be life itself, according to\ndesire or constrained by memory, and the dead no longer remembering\ntheir own names become the characters in the drama we ourselves\nhave invented. John King, who has delighted melodramatic minds for\nhundreds of s\u00e9ances with his career on earth as Henry Morgan the\nbuccaneer, will tell more scientific visitors that he is merely\na force, while some phantom long accustomed to a decent name,\nquestioned by some pious Catholic, will admit very cheerfully that he\nis the devil. Nor is it only present minds that perplex the shades\nwith phantasy, for friends of Count Albert de Rochas once wrote out\nnames and incidents but to discover that though the surname of the\nshade that spoke had been historical, Christian name and incidents\nwere from a romance running at the time in some clerical newspaper no\none there had ever opened.\n\nAll these shadows have drunk from the pool of blood and become\ndelirious. Sometimes they will use the very word and say that we\nforce delirium upon them because we do not still our minds, or that\nminds not stupefied with the body force them more subtly, for now\nand again one will withdraw what he has said, saying that he was\nconstrained by the neighbourhood of some more powerful shade.\n\nWhen I was a boy at Sligo, a stable boy met his late master going\nround the yard, and having told him to go and haunt the lighthouse,\nwas dismissed by his mistress for sending her husband to haunt\nso inclement a spot. Ghosts, I was told, must go where they are\nbid, and all those threatenings by the old _grimoires_ to drown\nsome disobedient spirit at the bottom of the Red Sea, and indeed\nall exorcism and conjuration affirm that our imagination is king.\n_Revenants_ are, to use the modern term, \"suggestable,\" and may be\nstudied in the \"trance personalities\" of hypnoses and in our dreams\nwhich are but hypnosis turned inside out, a modeller's clay for our\nsuggestions, or, if we follow _The Spiritual Diary_, for those of\ninvisible beings. Swedenborg has written that we are each in the\nmidst of a group of associated spirits who sleep when we sleep and\nbecome the _dramatis person\u00e6_ of our dreams, and are always the other\nwill that wrestles with our thought, shaping it to our despite.\n\n\n IX\n\nWe speak, it may be, of the Proteus of antiquity which has to be\nheld or it will refuse its prophecy, and there are many warnings in\nour ears. \"Stoop not down,\" says the Chald\u00e6an Oracle, \"to the darkly\nsplendid world wherein continually lieth a faithless depth and Hades\nwrapped in cloud, delighting in unintelligible images,\" and amid that\ncaprice, among those clouds, there is always legerdemain; we juggle,\nor lose our money with the same pack of cards that may reveal the\nfuture. The magicians who astonished the Middle Ages with power as\nincalculable as the fall of a meteor were not so numerous as the more\namusing jugglers who could do their marvels at will; and in our own\nday the juggler Houdin, sent to Morocco by the French Government, was\nable to break the prestige of the dervishes whose fragile wonders\nwere but worked by fasting and prayer.\n\nSometimes, indeed, a man would be magician, jester, and juggler. In\nan Irish story a stranger lays three rushes upon the flat of his hand\nand promises to blow away the inner and leave the others unmoved, and\nthereupon puts two fingers of his other hand upon the outer ones and\nblows. However, he will do a more wonderful trick. There are many\nwho can wag both ears, but he can wag one and not the other, and\nthereafter, when he has everybody's attention, he takes one ear between\nfinger and thumb. But now that the audience are friendly and laughing\nthe moment of miracle has come. He takes out of a bag a skein of silk\nthread and throws it into the air, until it seems as though one end\nwere made fast to a cloud. Then he takes out of his bag first a hare\nand then a dog and then a young man and then \"a beautiful, well-dressed\nyoung woman\" and sends them all running up the thread. Nor, the\nold writers tell us, does the association of juggler and magician\ncease after death, which only gives to legerdemain greater power and\nsubtlety. Those who would live again in us, becoming a part of our\nthoughts and passion have, it seems, their sport to keep us in good\nhumour, and a young girl who has astonished herself and her friends in\nsome dark s\u00e9ance may, when we have persuaded her to become entranced\nin a lighted room, tell us that some shade is touching her face, while\nwe can see her touching it with her own hand, or we may discover her,\nwhile her eyes are still closed, in some jugglery that implies an\nincredible mastery of muscular movement. Perhaps too in the fragmentary\nmiddle world there are souls that remain always upon the brink, always\nchildren. Dr. Ochorowicz finds his experiments upset by a naked girl,\none foot one inch high, who is constantly visible to his medium and\nwho claims never to have lived upon the earth. He has photographed her\nby leaving a camera in an empty room where she had promised to show\nherself, but is so doubtful of her honesty that he is not sure she did\nnot hold up a print from an illustrated paper in front of the camera.\nIn one of Lady Gregory's stories a countryman is given by a stranger\nhe meets upon the road what seems wholesome and pleasant food, but a\nlittle later his stomach turns and he finds that he has eaten chopped\ngrass, and one remembers Robin Goodfellow and his joint stool, and\nwitches' gold that is but dried cow dung. It is only, one does not\ndoubt, because of our preoccupation with a single problem, our survival\nof the body, and with the affection that binds us to the dead, that all\nthe gnomes and nymphs of antiquity have not begun their tricks again.\n\n\n X\n\nPlutarch, in his essay on the d\u00e6mon, describes how the souls of\nenlightened men return to be the schoolmasters of the living, whom\nthey influence unseen; and the mediums, should we ask how they escape\nthe illusions of that world, claim the protection of their guides. One\nwill tell you that when she was a little girl she was minding geese\nupon some American farm and an old man came towards her with a queer\ncoat upon him, and how at first she took him for a living man. He\nsaid perhaps a few words of pious commonplace or practical advice and\nvanished. He had come again and again, and now that she has to earn her\nliving by her gift, he warns her against deceiving spirits, or if she\nis working too hard, but sometimes she will not listen and gets into\ntrouble. The old witch doctor of Lady Gregory's story learned his cures\nfrom his dead sister whom he met from time to time, but especially at\nHallowe'en, at the end of the garden, but he had other helpers harsher\nthan she, and once he was beaten for disobedience.\n\nReginald Scott gives a fine plan for picking a guide. You promise some\ndying man to pray for the repose of his soul if he will but come to\nyou after death and give what help you need, while stories of mothers\nwho come at night to be among their orphan children are as common\namong spiritists as in Galway or in Mayo. A French servant girl once\nsaid to a friend of mine who helped her in some love affair: \"You\nhave your studies, we have only our affections\"; and this I think is\nwhy the walls are broken less often among us than among the poor. Yet\naccording to the doctrine of Soho and Holloway and in Plutarch, those\nstudies that have lessened in us the sap of the world may bring to us\ngood, learned, masterful men who return to see their own or some like\nwork carried to a finish. \"I do think,\" wrote Sir Thomas Browne, \"that\nmany mysteries ascribed to our own invention have been the courteous\nrevelations of spirits; for those noble essences in heaven bear a\nfriendly regard unto their fellow creatures on earth.\"\n\n\n XI\n\nMuch that Lady Gregory has gathered seems but the broken bread\nof old philosophers, or else of the one sort with the dough they\nmade into their loaves. Were I not ignorant, my Greek gone and my\nmeagre Latin all but gone, I do not doubt that I could find much\nto the point in Greek, perhaps in old writers on medicine, much in\nRenaissance or Medieval Latin. As it is, I must be content with what\nhas been translated or with the seventeenth-century Platonists who\nare the handier for my purpose because they found in the affidavits\nand confessions of the witch trials, descriptions like those in our\nConnaught stories. I have Henry More in his verse and in his prose\nand I have Henry More's two friends, Joseph Glanvil, and Cudworth in\nhis _Intellectual System of the Universe_, three volumes violently\nannotated by an opposed theologian; and two essays by Mr. G. R. S.\nMeade clipped out of his magazine, _The Quest_. These writers quote\nmuch from Plotinus and Porphyry and Plato and from later writers,\nespecially Synesius and John Philoponus in whom the School of Plato\ncame to an end in the seventh century.\n\nWe should not suppose that our souls began at birth, for as Henry\nMore has said, a man might as well think \"from souls new souls\" to\nbring as \"to press the sunbeams in his fist\" or \"wring the rainbow\ntill it dye his hands.\" We have within us an \"airy body\" or \"spirit\nbody\" which was our only body before our birth as it will be again\nwhen we are dead and its \"plastic power\" has shaped our terrestrial\nbody as some day it may shape apparition and ghost. Porphyry is\nquoted by Mr. Meade as saying that \"Souls who love the body attach\na moist spirit to them and condense it like a cloud,\" and so become\nvisible, and so are all apparitions of the dead made visible; though\nnecromancers, according to Henry More, can ease and quicken this\ncondensation \"with reek of oil, meal, milk, and such like gear,\nwine, water, honey.\" One remembers that Dr. Ochorowicz's naked\nimp once described how she filled out an appearance of herself by\nputting a piece of blotting paper where her stomach should have been\nand that the blotting paper became damp because, as she said, a\nmaterialization, until it is completed, is a damp vapour. This airy\nbody which so compresses vapour, Philoponus says, \"takes the shape\nof the physical body as water takes the shape of the vessel that it\nhas been frozen in,\" but it is capable of endless transformations,\nfor \"in itself it has no especial form,\" but Henry More believes that\nit has an especial form, for \"its plastic power\" cannot but find\nthe human form most \"natural,\" though \"vehemency of desire to alter\nthe figure into another representation may make the appearance to\nresemble some other creature; but no forced thing can last long.\"\n\"The better genii\" therefore prefer to show \"in a human shape yet\nnot it may be with all the lineaments\" but with such as are \"fit\nfor this separate state\" (separate from the body that is) or are\n\"requisite to perfect the visible features of a person,\" desire and\nimagination adding clothes and ornament. The materialization, as we\nwould say, has but enough likeness for recognition. It may be that\nMore but copies Philoponus who thought the shade's habitual form, the\nimage that it was as it were frozen in for a time, could be again\n\"coloured and shaped by fantasy,\" and that \"it is probable that\nwhen the soul desires to manifest it shapes itself, setting its own\nimagination in movement, or even that it is probable with the help\nof d\u00e6monic co-operation that it appears and again becomes invisible,\nbecoming condensed and rarefied.\" Porphyry, Philoponus adds, gives\nHomer as his authority for the belief that souls after death live\namong images of their experience upon earth, phantasms impressed\nupon the spirit body. While Synesius, who lived at the end of the\nfourth century and had Hypatia among his friends, also describes the\nspirit body as capable of taking any form and so of enabling us after\ndeath to work out our purgation; and says that for this reason the\noracles have likened the state after death to the images of a dream.\nThe seventeenth century English translation of Cornelius Agrippa's\n_De Occulta Philosophia_ was once so famous that it found its way\ninto the hands of Irish farmers and wandering Irish tinkers, and\nit may be that Agrippa influenced the common thought when he wrote\nthat the evil dead see represented \"in the fantastic reason\" those\nshapes of life that are \"the more turbulent and furious ... sometimes\nof the heavens falling upon their heads, sometimes of their being\nconsumed with the violence of flames, sometimes of being drowned\nin a gulf, sometimes of being swallowed up in the earth, sometimes\nof being changed into divers kinds of beasts ... and sometimes of\nbeing taken and tormented by demons ... as if they were in a dream.\"\nThe ancients, he writes, have called these souls \"hobgoblins,\" and\nOrpheus has called them \"the people of dreams\" saying \"the gates of\nPluto cannot be unlocked; within is a people of dreams.\" They are\na dream indeed that has place and weight and measure, and seeing\nthat their bodies are of an actual air, they cannot, it was held,\nbut travel in wind and set the straws and the dust twirling; though\nbeing of the wind's weight they need not, Dr. Henry More considers,\nso much as feel its ruffling, or if they should do so, they can\nshelter in a house or behind a wall, or gather into themselves as it\nwere, out of the gross wind and vapour. But there are good dreams\namong the airy people, though we cannot properly name that a dream\nwhich is but analogical of the deep unimaginable virtues and has,\ntherefore, stability and a common measure. Henry More stays himself\nin the midst of the dry learned and abstract writing of his treatise\n_The Immortality of the Soul_ to praise \"their comely carriage ...\ntheir graceful dancing, their melodious singing and playing with\nan accent so sweet and soft as if we should imagine air itself to\ncompose lessons and send forth musical sounds without the help of\nany terrestrial instrument\" and imagines them at their revels in\nthe thin upper air where the earth can but seem \"a fleecy and milky\nlight\" as the moon to us, and he cries out that they \"sing and play\nand dance together, reaping the lawful pleasures of the very animal\nlife, in a far higher degree than we are capable of in this world,\nfor everything here does, as it were, taste of the cask and has some\nmeasure of foulness in it.\"\n\nThere is, however, another birth or death when we pass from the\nairy to the shining or ethereal body, and \"in the airy the soul may\ninhabit for many ages and in the ethereal for ever,\" and indeed it\nis the ethereal body which is the root \"of all that natural warmth in\nall generations\" though in us it can no longer shine. It lives while\nin its true condition an unimaginable life and is sometimes described\nas of \"a round or oval figure\" and as always circling among gods and\namong the stars, and sometimes as having more dimensions than our\npenury can comprehend.\n\nLast winter Mr. Ezra Pound was editing the late Professor Fenollosa's\ntranslations of the Noh Drama of Japan, and read me a great deal of\nwhat he was doing. Nearly all that my fat old woman in Soho learns\nfrom her familiars is there in an unsurpassed lyric poetry and in\nstrange and poignant fables once danced or sung in the houses of\nnobles. In one a priest asks his way of some girls who are gathering\nherbs. He asks if it is a long road to town; and the girls begin to\nlament over their hard lot gathering cress in a cold wet bog where\nthey sink up to their knees and to compare themselves with ladies\nin the big town who only pull the cress in sport, and need not when\nthe cold wind is flapping their sleeves. He asks what village he\nhas come to and if a road near by leads to the village of Ono. A\ngirl replies that nobody can know that name without knowing the\nroad, and another says: \"Who would not know that name, written on\nso many pictures, and know the pine trees they are always drawing.\"\nPresently the cold drives away all the girls but one and she tells\nthe priest she is a spirit and has taken solid form that she may\nspeak with him and ask his help. It is her tomb that has made Ono so\nfamous. Conscience-struck at having allowed two young men to fall\nin love with her she refused to choose between them. Her father\nsaid he would give her to the best archer. At the match to settle\nit both sent their arrows through the same wing of a mallard and\nwere declared equal. She being ashamed and miserable because she had\ncaused so much trouble and for the death of the mallard, took her\nown life. That, she thought, would end the trouble, but her lovers\nkilled themselves beside her tomb, and now she suffered all manner\nof horrible punishments. She had but to lay her hand upon a pillar\nto make it burst into flame; she was perpetually burning. The priest\ntells her that if she can but cease to believe in her punishments\nthey will cease to exist. She listens in gratitude but she cannot\ncease to believe, and while she is speaking they come upon her and\nshe rushes away enfolded in flames. Her imagination has created all\nthose terrors out of a scruple, and one remembers how Lake Harris,\nwho led Laurence Oliphant such a dance, once said to a shade, \"How\ndid you know you were damned?\" and that it answered, \"I saw my own\nthoughts going past me like blazing ships.\"\n\nIn a play still more rich in lyric poetry a priest is wandering in\na certain ancient village. He describes the journey and the scene,\nand from time to time the chorus sitting at the side of the stage\nsings its comment. He meets with two ghosts, the one holding a red\nstick, the other a piece of coarse cloth and both dressed in the\nfashion of a past age, but as he is a stranger he supposes them\nvillagers wearing the village fashion. They sing as if muttering,\n\"We are entangled up--whose fault was it, dear? Tangled up as the\ngrass patterns are tangled up in this coarse cloth, or that insect\nwhich lives and chirrups in dried seaweed. We do not know where are\ntoday our tears in the undergrowth of this eternal wilderness. We\nneither wake nor sleep and passing our nights in sorrow, which is\nin the end a vision, what are these scenes of spring to us? This\nthinking in sleep for some one who has no thought for you, is it more\nthan a dream? And yet surely it is the natural way of love. In our\nhearts there is much, and in our bodies nothing, and we do nothing\nat all, and only the waters of the river of tears flow quickly.\" To\nthe priest they seem two married people, but he cannot understand\nwhy they carry the red stick and the coarse cloth. They ask him to\nlisten to a story. Two young people had lived in that village long\nago and night after night for three years the young man had offered a\ncharmed red stick, the token of love, at the young girl's window, but\nshe pretended not to see and went on weaving. So the young man died\nand was buried in a cave with his charmed red sticks, and presently\nthe girl died too, and now because they were never married in life\nthey were unmarried in their death. The priest, who does not yet\nunderstand that it is their own tale, asks to be shown the cave, and\nsays it will be a fine tale to tell when he goes home. The chorus\ndescribes the journey to the cave. The lovers go in front, the priest\nfollows. They are all day pushing through long grasses that hide the\nnarrow paths. They ask the way of a farmer who is mowing. Then night\nfalls and it is cold and frosty. It is stormy and the leaves are\nfalling and their feet sink into the muddy places made by the autumn\nshowers; there is a long shadow on the slope of the mountain, and an\nowl in the ivy of the pine tree. They have found the cave and it is\ndyed with the red sticks of love to the colour of \"the orchids and\nchrysanthemums which hide the mouth of a fox's hole\"; and now the two\nlovers have \"slipped into the shadow of the cave.\" Left alone and\ntoo cold to sleep the priest decides to spend the night in prayer.\nHe prays that the lovers may at last be one. Presently he sees to\nhis wonder that the cave is lighted up \"where people are talking and\nsetting up looms for spinning and painted red sticks.\" The ghosts\ncreep out and thank him for his prayer and say that through his pity\n\"the love promises of long past incarnations\" find fulfilment in\na dream. Then he sees the love story unfolded in a vision and the\nchorus compares the sound of weaving to the clicking of crickets.\nA little later he is shown the bridal room and the lovers drinking\nfrom the bridal cup. The dawn is coming. It is reflected in the\nbridal cup and now singers, cloth, and stick break and dissolve like\na dream, and there is nothing but \"a deserted grave on a hill where\nmorning winds are blowing through the pine.\"\n\nI remember that Aran story of the lovers who came after death to the\npriest for marriage. It is not uncommon for a ghost, \"a control\" as\nwe say, to come to a medium to discover some old earthly link to fit\ninto a new chain. It wishes to meet a ghostly enemy to win pardon or\nto renew an old friendship. Our service to the dead is not narrowed\nto our prayers, but may be as wide as our imagination. I have known\na control to warn a medium to unsay her promise to an old man, to\nwhom, that she might be rid of him, she had promised herself after\ndeath. What is promised here in our loves or in a witch's bond may be\nfulfilled in a life which is a dream. If our terrestrial condition\nis, as it seems the territory of choice and of cause, the one ground\nfor all seed sowing, it is plain why our imagination has command\nover the dead and why they must keep from sight and earshot. At the\nBritish Museum at the end of the Egyptian Room and near the stairs\nare two statues, one an august decoration, one a most accurate\nlooking naturalistic portrait. The august decoration was for a public\nsite, the other, like all the naturalistic art of the epoch, for\nburial beside a mummy. So buried it was believed, the Egyptologists\ntell us, to be of service to the dead. I have no doubt it helped a\ndead man to build out of his spirit-body a recognizable apparition,\nand that all boats or horses or weapons or their models buried in\nancient tombs were helps for a flagging memory or a too weak fancy\nto imagine and so substantiate the old surroundings. A shepherd at\nDoneraile told me some years ago of an aunt of his who showed herself\nafter death stark naked and bid her relatives to make clothes and to\ngive them to a beggar, the while remembering her.[4] Presently she\nappeared again wearing the clothes and thanked them.\n\n\n XII\n\nCertainly in most writings before our time the body of an apparition\nwas held for a brief, artificial, dreamy, half-living thing. One\nis always meeting such phrases as Sir Thomas Browne's \"they steal\nor contrive a body.\" A passage in the _Paradiso_ comes to mind\ndescribing Dante in conversation with the blessed among their\nspheres, although they are but in appearance there, being in truth\nin the petals of the yellow rose; and another in the Odyssey where\nOdysseus speaks not with \"the mighty Heracles,\" but with his phantom,\nfor he himself \"hath joy at the banquet among the deathless gods and\nhath to wife Hebe of the fair ankles, child of Zeus, and Hero of the\ngolden sandals,\" while all about the phantom \"there was a clamour of\nthe dead, as it were fowls flying everywhere in fear and he, like\nblack night with bow uncased, and shaft upon the string, fiercely\nglancing around like one in the act to shoot.\"\n\n W.B.Y.\n\n _14th October, 1914._\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The Japanese _Noh_ play _Awoi no Uye_ has for its theme the\nexorcism of a ghost which is itself obsessed by an evil spirit. This\nevil spirit, drawn forth by the exorcism, is represented by a dancer\nwearing a \"terrible mask with golden eyes.\"\n\n[2] Besides the well-known books of Atsikof, Myers, Lodge, Flammarion,\nFlournoy, Maxwell, Albert De Rochas, Lombroso, Madame Bisson, Delanne,\netc., I have made considerable use of the researches of D'Ochorowicz\npublished during the last ten or twelve years in _Annales des Science\nPsychiques_ and in the English _Annals of Psychical Science_, and of\nthose of Professor Hyslop published during the last four years in the\n_Journal_ and _Transactions of the American Society for Psychical\nResearch_. I have myself been a somewhat active investigator.\n\n[3] Henry More considered that \"the animal spirits\" were \"the\nimmediate instruments of the soul in all vital and animal functions\"\nand quotes Harpocrates, who was contemporary with Plato, as saying,\n\"that the mind of man is ... not nourished from meats and drinks\nfrom the belly but by a clear and luminous substance that redounds\nby separation from the blood.\" Ochorowicz thought that certain small\noval lights were perhaps the root of personality itself.\n\n[4] Herodotus has an equivalent tale. Periander, because the ghost\nof his wife complained that it was \"cold and naked,\" got the women\nof Corinth together in their best clothes and had them stripped and\ntheir clothes burned.\n\n\n\n\n NOTES\n\n\n\n\n NOTES\n\n\nNOTE 1. A woman from the North would probably be a faery woman or\nat any rate a \"knowledgeable\" woman, one who was \"in the faeries\"\nand certainly not necessarily at all a woman from Ulster. The North\nwhere the old Celtic other world was thought to lie is the quarter of\nspells and faeries. A visionary student, who was at the Dublin Art\nSchool when I was there, described to me a waking dream of the North\nPole. There were luxuriant vegetation and overflowing life though\nstill but ice to the physical eye. He added thereto his conviction\nthat wherever physical life was abundant, the spiritual life was\nvague and thin, and of the converse truth.\n\nNOTE 2. St. Patrick prayed, in _The Breastplate of St. Patrick_, to\nbe delivered from the spells of smiths and women.\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n\nObvious punctuation and spelling errors have been fixed throughout.\n\nInconsistent hyphenation is as in the original.","title":"Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland, Second Series","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":78310}