{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54724/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54724","id":"gutenberg_54724","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54724","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Folklore -- Ireland"],"text":"FOLK TALES OF BREFFNY\n\n\n                                   BY\n\n                                B. HUNT\n\n\n                       MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED\n                      ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON\n                                  1912\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nMany of the stories in this volume were told by an old man who said\nhe had more and better learning nor the scholars. \"The like of them,\"\nhe declared, \"do be filled with conceit out of books, and the most of\nit only nonsense; 'tis myself has the real old knowledge was handed\ndown from the ancient times.\" The spread of education and cheap\nliterature robbed him of audience: the boys read of adventure by land\nand sea, the girls interested themselves in the fate of heroes with\nmarble-white complexion and coal-black moustache. But it happened\nthat the old man took a contract to break stones for lime, and a\nchild with an insatiable desire for information came to watch him at\nwork. \"I promise you will walk the world, like a Queen of ancient days,\nrenowned for learning and wit,\" he assured her, delighted to find a\nlistener at last. The child was only seven years old, and could not\nremember all she heard, so most of his lore died with him.\n\n\"The King's Daughter of France,\" \"The Dark Oath,\" and \"Nallagh's Child\"\nwere told by other friends.\n\nThe Folk Tale is essentially dramatic and loses much when it is\nwritten down; moreover it is often put into a form unsuited to the\nspirit of na\u251c\u00bbve philosophy from whence it springs. The peasant of\nancient race is more akin to the aristocratic type than the bourgeois\ncan ever be--and the story told from generation to generation bears\ngreater resemblance to the work of a poet than to that of the popular\nnovelist, who is the bourgeois of literature. Superstition in a race\nis merely the proof of imagination, the people lacking fairy lore\nmust also lack intelligence and wit.\n\n\nB. HUNT.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\n\n    I.      The King's Daughter of France                  1\n    II.     The Cow of a Widow of Breffny                 13\n    III.    Kate Ellen's Wake                             21\n    IV.     The Dark Oath                                 29\n    V.      Fairy Gold                                    37\n    VI.     M'Carthy of Connacht                          45\n    VII.    Nallagh's Child                               65\n    VIII.   The Enchanted Hare                            73\n    IX.     The Bridge of the Kist                        81\n    X.      The Child and the Fiddle                      89\n    XI.     The Cutting of the Tree                       97\n    XII.    The Little Settlement                        105\n    XIII.   The Tillage in the Fort                      115\n    XIV.    The New Deck of Cards                        121\n    XV.     The Lifting of a Child                       127\n    XVI.    The Voice at the Door                        135\n    XVII.   The Earl's Son of the Sea                    143\n    XVIII.  The Girl and the Fairies                     153\n    XIX.    Good-night, my Brave Michael                 159\n    XX.     The Lad and the Old Lassie's Song            165\n    XXI.    The Basket of Eggs                           169\n    XXII.   The Broken Branch                            175\n    XXIII.  Digging for Gold                             179\n    XXIV.   Story of a Churn                             183\n    XXV.    The Gankeynogue in the Oak Chest             187\n    XXVI.   The Maker of Brogues                         193\n\n            Glossary                                     197\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE KING'S DAUGHTER OF FRANCE\n\n\nThere was once an old man of Ireland who was terrible poor, and he\nlived by his lone in a small wee house by the roadside. At the morning\nof the day he would go for to gather sticks in a wood was convenient\nto that place, the way he'd have a clear fire to be sitting at of\nan evening.\n\nIt fell out one time, of a cold night, that Paddy heard a knock at\nthe door. He went over, and when he opened it he seen a little boy\nin a red cap standing without.\n\n\"Let you come in and take an air to the fire,\" says he, for he always\nhad a good reception for every person.\n\nThe boy with the red cap walked in, and he stopped for a good while\nconversing. He was the best of company, and the old man didn't find\nthe time passing until he rose for to go.\n\n\"Let you come in and rest yourself here any evening you are out in\nthese parts,\" says he.\n\nThe very next night the little fellow was in it again, and the night\nafter that, warming himself at the clear fire and talking away.\n\n\"Paddy,\" says he, the evening he was in it for the third time,\n\"Paddy, I do be thinking it is bitter poor you are!\"\n\n\"I am, surely,\" says the old man.\n\n\"Well, let you pay attention to me, it is the truth I'm speaking,\nyou'll have more gold than ever you'll contrive for to spend.\"\n\n\"I could go through a fair share of gold,\" says Paddy.\n\n\"I am determined for to make a rich man of you,\" the little boy goes\non. \"There is a lady at the point of death, and she is the King's\ndaughter of France. I have a bottle here in my pocket, and that is\nthe cure for the disease is on her. I'll be giving it to you, and let\nyou set out for France at the morning of the day. When you come to\nthe King's palace the servants will bid you be gone for an ignorant\nbeggar, but let you not be heeding them at all. Don't quit asking\nto see the King, and in the latter end they'll give in to you. It is\nwith himself the most difficulty will be, for that man will think it\nhard to believe the likes of a poor old Irishman could have a better\ncure nor all the doctors in the world. A power of them allowed they'd\nhave her right well in no time, and it is worse they left her. The\nKing is after giving out that the next person coming with a false\ncure be to lose their life. Let you not be scared at that decree,\nfor you are the man shall succeed. You may promise to have the lady\nfit to ride out hunting in nine days. Three drops from the bottle is\nall you have to give her, and that for three mornings after other.\"\n\nPaddy paid great heed to all the boy in the red cap was telling\nhim. He took the wee bottle that was to make him a rich man, and he\nmade ready for to set out at the morning of the day.\n\nHe was a long time travelling the world before he came to the\npalace where the King's daughter of France was lying at the point\nof death. The servants made a great mock of the poor old Irishman,\nbut he paid no attention to their words at all. In the latter end he\ngot seeing the King, and that gentleman allowed the likes of Paddy\ncould never succeed when the doctors of the world were after failing.\n\n\"I'd only be having the head cut off you, my poor old man!\" says he.\n\n\"I'm not the least bit in dread, your honour,\" says Paddy. \"The lady\nis bound to be ready to ride out hunting in nine days, if she uses\nmy medicine.\"\n\nHis perseverance and courage won over the King of France, and\npermission was given for a trial of the cure.\n\nThe first morning, after taking the three drops from the bottle,\nthe lady turned in her bed. The second morning, after the treatment,\nshe sat up and ate her food.\n\nThe third morning, when she had taken the three drops, the King's\ndaughter of France rose from her bed. And in nine days she was ready\nto ride out hunting.\n\nThey could not do enough for Paddy, there was great gratitude in\nthem. Well, the reward he accepted was a big sack of gold, and that\nwas the load he brought home to his cabin in Ireland.\n\nThe first evening he was sitting by his clear fire, the little boy\ncame in at the door.\n\n\"Didn't I do well for you, Paddy?\" says he.\n\n\"You did surely. I have more gold in that sack than ever I'll contrive\nfor to spend.\"\n\n\"Ah, not at all! It is twice as much I'll be getting for you.\"\n\n\"Is it another King's daughter has need of a cure?\" asks Paddy.\n\n\"No, but a different business entirely. There is a great bully to be\nfought in the City of Dublin, and yourself is the man shall win it.\"\n\n\"Do you tell me so!\" says Paddy.\n\n\"In troth I do. The man you have to fight is a big, fierce fellow no\none can get the better of. He has the youth of the world battered to\npieces, the way no person comes forward against him any more. There is\na fine purse of money put up for to entice a champion to face him; and\nthere will be great laughter when yourself puts in an appearance. They\nwill ask if you are wishful to fight with gloves on your hands, but\nit is your bare fists are the best. Let you say you'll toss for which\nit is to be, but toss with the half-crown I give you, and you are\ncertain to win. Myself is coming to that place for to second you, and\nit's bound to be the grandest bully was seen in the City of Dublin.\"\n\nWith that the little fellow went away out of the house. And at the\nmorning of the day my brave old Paddy started for Dublin. He wasn't\ntoo long on the road, for he got a lift from a man was driving there\nto see the bully. Well, there was odious laughing and cheering when\nthe crowd saw the champion was come to accept the challenge. The\nbig man was after battering the youth of the world, allowed he had\nno notion of striving against the likes of Paddy. But when no person\nelse came forward they were bound for to accept him, and they asked\nwould he wear gloves on his fists.\n\n\"We'll be tossing for that,\" says he, bringing out the half-crown he\nhad from the little boy in the red cap.\n\nHe won the toss, sure enough, and he allowed it was bare-handed he'd\nstrive. All the time he was looking round, anxious like, but he could\nsee no sign of the one that was to second him. He went into the ring\nin odious dread; but then the little fellow came and stood beside\nhim. My brave Paddy let out and he struck the champion one blow,\nand didn't he lay him dead at his feet.\n\nIt was then there was roaring and cheering for the old man. And in\nall the confusion the little lad got away; Paddy never seen where he\nwent. The whole crowd took up a terrible great collection of money\nfor the champion was after destroying the man with a single blow. That\nlot of gold, along with the purse was promised for the fight, filled\na sack as full as it could hold. So Paddy went home well rewarded,\nand not a bit the worse of his jaunt to the City of Dublin.\n\nThe first evening he was sitting by his own fireside, the little boy\nin the red cap came in at the door.\n\n\"Didn't I do well for you, Paddy?\" says he.\n\n\"You did, surely. It is rich for life I am owing to your contrivances.\"\n\n\"Then will you be doing me a service in return for all?\" asks the\nlittle fellow.\n\n\"Indeed then, I will,\" says Paddy.\n\n\"We have all arranged for to cross over to France this night. We\nintend for to bring away the lady you cured, the King's daughter of\nthat country,\" says the boy. \"But we cannot contrive for to accomplish\nthe like unless we have flesh and blood along with us. Will you come?\"\n\n\"Aye, surely!\" says Paddy.\n\nWith that the two went out at the door and across the road into\na field. It was thronged with regiments of the Good People, past\nbelief or counting. They were running every way through the field,\ncalling out:\n\n\"Get me a horse, get me a horse!\"\n\nAnd what were they doing only cutting down the bohlans and riding\naway on them.\n\n\"Get me a horse, get me a horse!\" says old Paddy, calling out along\nwith them.\n\nBut the fellow in the red cap came over to him looking terrible vexed.\n\n\"Don't let another word out of you,\" says he, \"except one of ourselves\nspeaks first. Mind what I'm telling you or it will be a cause of\nmisfortune.\"\n\n\"I'll say no more except in answer to a question,\" says Paddy.\n\nWith that they brought him a white yearling calf, and put him up\nfor to ride upon it. He thought it was a queer sort of a horse, but\nhe passed no remarks. And away they rode at a great pace, the Good\nPeople on the bohlans and Paddy on the yearling calf.\n\nThey made grand going, and it wasn't long before they came to a big\nlake had an island in the middle of it. With one spring the whole party\nlanded on the island and with another they were safe on the far shore.\n\n\"Dam, but that was a great lep for a yearling calf,\" says Paddy.\n\nWith that one of the Good People struck him a blow on the head,\nthe way the sense was knocked out of him and he fell on the field.\n\nAt daylight the old man came to himself, and he lying on the field\nby the big lake. He was a long journey from home, and he was weary\ntravelling round the water and over the hills to his own place. But the\nworst of all was the sacks of gold: didn't every bit of the fortune\nmelt away and leave him poor, the way he was before he came in with\nthe Good People.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE COW OF A WIDOW OF BREFFNY\n\n\nIn the ancient times a man the name of M'Gauran ruled in these\nparts. He was a cruel tyrant surely and prouder than the High King of\nIreland or O'Rourke was a Prince in Breffny. He conceited for to build\na house would stand to the end of time, a stronghold past the art of\nman to overthrow or the fury of the wind to batter down. He gave out\nthat all the bullocks in his dominions were to be slaughtered and\nmortar wet with the blood of them. Evenly the cows were not spared\nat the latter end, the way a powerful lamentation went up from the\npoor of the world were looking on the lonesome fields.\n\nYou that are young will be thinking the blackness of his spirit and\nthe cruelty of his heart brought a curse on him to rot the flesh off\nhis living bones. You will be expectant of the story of a king, and\nhe walking the provinces of Ireland a skeleton and a warning to the\neyes of man. But the aged and wise have understanding to know of the\ntribulation laid out for the good and the just, they putting their\nsorrows over them in this world where the evil have prosperity. The\nlike will be enduring for a short space only, and a queer fate waits\nthe wicked in the age-long hours of eternity. Proud is the tyrant\nand wealthy till they set him in the clay: humbled with fear is his\nspirit at the journey's end.\n\nThere was a widow woman had her little dwelling convenient to where\nM'Gauran was building his castle. Gold she had none, nor evenly a\ncoin was of silver, one cow only was her riches on the earth. (And\nsurely them that had heart to molest her like would be robbing the\ndead of the raiment is with them in the grave.) Herself was more nor\nhorrid lonesome the day she seen the creature driven from her by a\nman of the chiefs, he having a lengthy knife in his hand.\n\nAt the fall of night a traveller came to the poor woman's cabin\ndoor. He was a bent, aged man with a sorrowful countenance on him,\nand the garments did cover him were rags. She invited him within,\ngiving him the kindly welcome, and she set out what food was in the\nplace for his refreshment.\n\n\"It is destroyed I am with a parching drouth is splitting my gullet,\"\nsays he, \"and I walking the mountainy ways since the screech of\ndawn. The sun was splitting the bushes at the noon of day, and the\nfury of it was eating into my skin. But no person took compassion on\nme at all.\"\n\nWith that the widow set a mug of milk before him, and it the last\ndrop was in the countryside. He drank it down, middling speedy,\nand he held out the cup to be filled again.\n\n\"'Tis a heart scald surely,\" says herself, \"that I be to refuse the\nrequest of a man is weary walking the territory of Ireland, since the\nrising sun brought light on his path. There is a king in these parts,\nstranger, and he has the cattle destroyed on the poor of the world,\nthe way he will have a lasting mortar to his house.\"\n\n\"Isn't yourself after giving me the loveliest mug of sweet milk?\" says\nhe, like one was doubtful of the honesty of her words.\n\n\"The last drop was in this townland, stranger, and it is heart glad\nI am that it refreshed you. I had but the one cow only, the grandest\nmilker in the land, and she was driven from me this day--up yonder\nto the masons are working with their shovels dripping red.\"\n\n\"I am thinking it is four strong walls in the pit of Hell are\nbuilding for that chieftain's soul. Maybe it's red hot they'll be,\nand he imprisoned within them for a thousand years and more,\" says\nthe traveller.\n\n\"Let there be what masonry there will in the next world, the wealth\nof the people cements his castle there beyond. For the cow and the\nmilk and the butter are the gold of the dwellers on the land,\" says\nthe widow. \"But let you be resting a while in this place: what haste\nis on you to depart?\" For she seen he was rising to be gone.\n\nHe raised his hand in benediction, and the voice of him speaking was\nthat sweet it charmed the birds off the bushes, the way they flew\nround him in the darkening night. \"May the blessing of the King of\nHeaven be upon you. May He send you a cow will never run dry, and you\nmilking her at all seasons of the year to the day of your departure\nfrom the world.\"\n\nWith that the place was bare of his presence. He was gone the like\nof a spirit has power to travel the land unseen.\n\nAt the morning of the day following the poor woman stood at her\ncottage door, facing out to the mountains are a long journey from\nthat place. Didn't she see a great wonder:--A piece fell clean from\nthe hillside and from it came a cow, white as the driven snow, she\ntravelling faster nor the wind. The widow seen all as clear as we\ndo be regarding the rising of the sun in the Eastern sky. Whatever\npower was laid on her eyes the distance was no obstruction to her\nvision that day. But it was not until the creature came and stood by\nherself that she bethought her of the benediction of the traveller,\nand the cow would never run dry.\n\nThat was the beast had the great renown on her: people came from every\nart and part to be looking on her. The milk she gave was richer nor\nthe best of cream, and the butter off it was the best in Ireland.\n\nThe day the widow died, a young child seen the white cow travelling\naway to the mountains. And no man beheld her more, nor evenly heard\ntell of the like. But the Gap of Glan confronts us to this day,\nand that is where the creature rose to the light of the world.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nKATE ELLEN'S WAKE\n\n\nKate Ellen lived by her lone for her husband was employed overseas. She\nwas a strange sort of a creature, pale and scared looking, with one\nblue eye in her head and the other one grey. She had some kind of\ndisease that came at her with a fluttering in her heart. Sometimes\nshe would die of it for a couple of hours, and all the while she was\ndead she'd be dreaming she was drowning.\n\nThere was a fort not a many perches distant from my poor Kate Ellen's\nhouse, and that was a noted place for the Good People to be out\ndiverting themselves. Moreover it was well known to the neighbours\nthat herself used to be away with them, but she allowed there was no\ntruth in the report. Now it happened of a May eve that a young child\nseen her, and she milking the cushogues along with a score of the\nfairies. Another night a man on his way from a distant fair found\nher on the road before him riding with the little horseman.\n\nOne day Kate Ellen came into the kitchen of a friend's house, and\nshe stopped there chatting for an hour's time. She allowed that she'd\nsurely die in a short space for the disease was making great ravages\nand the doctors could take no hold of it at all.\n\n\"No person can give me the least relief in the world,\" says she. \"And\nI'll be making but the one request of my friends and neighbours,\nlet there be no whiskey at the wake.\"\n\n\"Sure the like was never heard tell of before,\" says the woman of\nthe house. \"What use would there be in a dry wake?\"\n\n\"Maybe no use at all, as you are after saying,\" answers Kate\nEllen. \"But let you pay heed to my words or there's like to be a\nqueer story told at the end of time.\"\n\n\"'Tis the raving of death is on you, my poor creature,\" says the\nwoman of the house. \"Sure you'll be the beautiful corpse and every\none of us paying our best respects to the same.\"\n\nNot a long after Kate Ellen was found in her own house and she lying\ndead on the floor. All the friends and neighbours gathered in for\nthe wake, and what had they along with them only a beautiful jar of\nthe best whiskey. They could not think to give in to the arrangement\nherself set out, that they'd remain in the place with a parching\ndrouth for company.\n\nThe whole party were sitting round, and the jar of itself was in the\nmiddle of the floor. There came a noise and shouting on the street,\nlike as if there was a powerful assembly of people without; and\nthen a great battering on the windows. The door opened wide and the\ndisturbance came into the kitchen, yet no person sitting there seen\na heth that was not in it from the start. It was a queer gathering\nsurely, for the friends and neighbours of the dead were silent and\nstill, and the crying went round them on the air.\n\nAfter a while didn't the jar of whiskey let a lep out of it and\nbegin for to roll on the floor. It was turned again and every drop\nteemed from it before the watching eyes. Yet no person seen the Good\nPeople were handling the drink and roving through the house. Then\nthe disturbance passed from the kitchen, and away down the field,\nwhatever was last for to go closed the door behind all.\n\nA man stood up and he says: \"This is no right gathering surely,\nand we would do well to be gone.\"\n\nWith that another opens the door, and all made ready to depart. But\nwhen they looked out and seen the fort all thronged with lights they\ngrew fearful to quit the house.\n\nThere was the powerfullest laughter and cheering down among the\nthorn trees of the circle, and there came a blast of the loveliest\nmusic--fiddles and pipes and voices singing.\n\n\"It is the Good People are having the whole beautiful wake down there\nbeyond,\" says a man. \"Sure it is well known Kate Ellen was in league\nwith themselves.\"\n\n\"By the powers, it is more like a wedding they are conducting this\nhour,\" says another.\n\n\"Come on away home,\" says a third, \"what enticement is on us stop\nwhen the drink is gone from us to the fairies are fiddling with joy!\"\n\nBut they bid him depart by his lone, for the rest were in dread of\npassing the fort before day. He was a bold, daring sort of a man,\nand it's likely he'd have gone only for his brother taking a hold of\nhis coat.\n\n\"You'll be taken by the Good People,\" says he, \"and they in great\nhumour after whipping off with the whiskey before our eyes.\"\n\nSure it was more nor horrid wonderful that Kate Ellen had understanding\nfor to know what might be taking place on the night of her departure\nfrom home. Maybe it's in agreement she was to be going for good with\nthe fairies and not to her grave at all.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE DARK OATH\n\n\nIn the ancient times there was a young lad, and he gifted with a\ntemper was a fright to the world of man. He never controlled his\nspeech but took delight in letting great oaths and curses out of him,\nthey rising continually in his heart like water in a spring well.\n\nThere were few of the neighbours had a mind to make free with himself,\nsure it was an odious dread came upon them and they regarding\nthe villainy of his heart lepping out at his mouth with the words\nspeaking. All the time he was middling great with another gosoon of\nthe one age who would not be warned from his company.\n\nThe two would be travelling the roads and roaming the fields of\nConnacht from the screech of dawn to dark. But for all their diversions\ntogether they fell out on a summer's day, and it was blows they gave\none another until a strong perspiration ran down from them and the\nair moved before their eyes like the stars of heaven on a frosty\nnight. Neither could gain the mastery, and at long last they be to\nquit striving for they were bone weary and feeble as an infant child.\n\nThe one was hasty in his speech let a dark oath that he would be the\ndeath of his companion, evenly if the power of the lonesome grave\nitself was set between them to hold him from the fulfilment of his vow.\n\nIn three days from the time the words were spoken he died of a strange,\nsudden sickness.\n\nThe other had a great satisfaction on him, he having no dread of a\nman was rotting in the clay, where rich and poor are alike and the\nstrong have no mastery above the weak. But in a short while a warning\ncame to the lad in a dream, the way he walked the world in fear from\nthat out:--\n\nHe seen a field where he was standing by his lone to confront a\nblack bull was charging down. The eyes of the beast were glowing red\nas burning fire, and it was no right thing surely. There was such a\nfluttering of dread on the boy that he could not endeavour for to run,\nbut he stood like a growing rush does be waving with the breeze. Three\ntimes the likeness of the great black bull came down against him,\nwounding him with the curved and lengthy horns were upon it; with\nthat he awoke.\n\n\"The devil will be gifting the spirit of the dead with the form of\na living beast, the way he'll get bringing me the dark destruction\nhe promised, and I looking fearful at the flames are burning in his\neyes,\" thinks the lad.\n\nSure enough, in a month's time, he was in a field, and the appearance\nof the black bull came against him. Three times it struck him, the\nway he was tormented with the agony of the goring horns. With that\nthe likeness of the living beast faded from the place leaving the\nyoung lad sore and sorry but alive.\n\nHe had peace for a short space only to be thinking on his\nescape. Didn't a second warning come in the night to restore the cold\nfear to his heart:--\n\nHe seen a black goat come at him in standing leps, and the eyes of\nit were glowing like a turf in the heart of a strong fire.\n\n\"It is less power the devil be's giving him this time,\" thinks the\nlad. \"All the while 'tis an ill hour stands before me: the like of\nyon beast will be middling weighty and it striking me in a standing\nlep with no one of its four feet upon the ground.\"\n\nAll came about as it was put on his eyes in the vision. Not a many\ndays went by before the likeness of the great black goat threw its\nstrength against him in the field. Three sore batterings he be to\nendure, the way he was left lying on the grass with every bone of\nhim tormented in pain and a cold fear at his soul.\n\nWhen the wounds were healed on his body and the passing of time\nrestored his mind to a better peace, didn't he behold a third dream\nof the night:--\n\nHe stood in the lane between his house and the field, and the\nappearance of a great turkey cock flew down upon him from the sky.\n\nAt that he let a hearty laugh, and he roused up in his bed.\n\n\"Sure the devil has little wit to be thinking I'll take my death\nfrom the like,\" says he. \"And how would it be possible a fine,\nstout-hearted lad could be scared by the fowls of the sky!\"\n\nHe laughed that night, and he laughed at the noon of day when the\nbird flew against him in the lane. But the appearance of the turkey\ncock opened the joining of his skull with one blow of the beak like a\nsharpened knife was upon it. The second stroke and the third dashed\nthe brains from his head and scattered them grey on the brown and\ndusty path.\n\nAnd that is the how he came to a bad death as his companion promised\nhim, and the dark oath was accomplished no spite of the power of\nthe grave.\n\nWe that are yet in this world know well where we are, but ignorance is\non us of where we be to repair. Sure the passing of the spirit is the\nstrangest and awfullest thing was ever devised or heard tell of. It\nwas said in the ancient times and is well known to this present that\nthe soul quits the body by the joining of the skull. The eyes have\nseen evil, the ears have heard it, and the mouth has made laughter\nand speech of the same: how then would they be a right and a fitting\ndoorway for the feet of the spirit to pass! Moreover, I have heard\ntell that the skull of man and the skull of woman are different one\nfrom another--and it is the soul of herself has the sorest departure\nfrom the flesh.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nFAIRY GOLD\n\n\nIt happened one time that a poor man dreamt three nights after other\nof a sack of fairy gold was buried in under the roots of a lone bush\nand it growing in a field convenient to his house.\n\n\"It may be there is nothing in it,\" says he to himself. \"But I will\nbe digging in that place and if I find a treasure it will be a big\nreward for the labour.\"\n\nHe never let on a word of his intentions to any person, nor did\nhe evenly pass any remark on the strange dreams were after coming\nto him. At the fall of the day he took a loy in his hand and set\nout for the lone bush. He was not a great while at work before the\nsteel blade struck against a substance that had no feel of clay,\nand the man was full sure it was not a stone he was after striking\nagainst. He wraught hard to bring whatever was in it to light--and\nwhat had he only a powerful fine sack of pure gold and splendid jewels.\n\nHe raised it up on his shoulders and set out for home, staggering\nunder the load. It was maybe a hundredweight of treasure he had with\nhim, and he went along planning out the uses of that wealth. Sure the\nburden was a rejoicement to him and no hardship at all evenly if it\nhad him bent double like an aged and crippled man.\n\nWhen he came to his own place he went to the byre, and it was there\nhe put down the sack in front of three cows were standing in the\nbails. For he was not wishful to be making a display of that splendour\nbefore the neighbours all, and it was likely he would find some person\nwithin making their cailee. Sure enough when he went in on the door\nof the house he seen two men sitting by the fire and they in no haste\nto depart. Now the strangers had the English only, and the people of\nthe house spoke Irish with one another.\n\nSays himself, using the Gaelic, \"I have a beautiful treasure\nwithout--bars of fine gold are in it, and jewels would be the delight\nof a queen of the world.\"\n\n\"Oh, bring it into the house,\" says she. \"Sure it will rise my heart\nto be looking on the like; the hunger of it is put on my eyes by your\nwords speaking.\"\n\n\"I have better wit than to make display of my fortune to every person\nis living in the land,\" says he. \"Let you content yourself until the\ntwo men have departed, and then we'll fetch the sack in from the byre\nwhere I left it in front of the cows.\"\n\nWhen the man and woman of the house were shut of the company they\nwent out to the yard, and they fair wild with delight. Himself told\nthe story of the three dreams and the finding of the gold in under\nthe roots of the lone bush.\n\n\"Did you spit on it?\" she inquires.\n\n\"I did not,\" says he.\n\nWith that she allowed he was after making a big mistake.\n\n\"How would that be?\" he asks.\n\n\"My father had great knowledge of the like,\" says herself. \"I often\nheard him tell of how those treasures do be enchanted, and power is\non them for to melt away. But if a man was to spit on fairy gold he'd\nget keeping it surely.\"\n\n\"Amn't I after bringing it this far,\" says he, \"and the weight of it\ndestroying my shoulders with bruises and pains. Not the least sign of\nmelting was on yon article and it a warrant to bring down the scales\nat a hundred and more.\"\n\nWith that they went into the byre, and they seen the three cows were\nstriving to break out of the bails.\n\n\"They are in dread of what's lying there in front,\" says herself. \"The\ncattle of the world have good wisdom surely, and they do be looking\non more nor the eye of man gets leave to behold.\"\n\n\"Quit raving about the cows,\" says he. \"Look at my lovely sack and\nit bulging full.\"\n\nWhen the two went up to the head of the bails the woman let a great\ncry out of her.\n\n\"What are you after bringing to this place from among the roots of\nthe lone bush? It has the movement of life in it--and how could the\nlike be treasure at all!\"\n\n\"Hold your whisht, woman,\" says the husband, and he middling vexed\nat her words.\n\n\"Will you look at the bag is turning over on the ground?\" says she.\n\nHe seen there was truth in her words, but all the while he would not\ngive in to be scared.\n\n\"It is likely a rat is after creeping in,\" he allows, \"and he is\nhaving his own times striving to win out.\"\n\n\"Let you open the sack, and I will be praying aloud for protection\non us--for it is no right thing is in it at all,\" says herself.\n\nWith that he went over and he turned the hundredweight of treasure\nuntil he had it propped up against the bails. When he began for\nto open the bag the cows went fair wild, striving and roaring and\nstamping to get away from the place entirely.\n\nThe head of a great eel looked out from under the man's hand where\nhe was groping for the treasure. The eyes of it were the colour of\nflame and as blinding to the sight as the naked sun at noon of a\nsummer's day.\n\nThe man gave one lep that carried him to the door and there the\nparalysis of dread held him down. Herself let a scream could be\nheard in the next townland, but she never asked to stir from where\nshe was standing.\n\nThe appearance of the eel twisted itself out of the sack and travelled\nalong the ground, putting the six feet of its length into the awfullest\nloops and knots were ever seen. Then it reared up its head and neck to\nstand swaying for a while, a full half of it in the air. The man and\nwoman were convenient to the door but the both were too scared to go\nout on it; they watched the eel and they seen it twist up round a bail\nuntil the head of it was touching the roof. Didn't it break away out\nthrough the thatch, and whether it melted off the face of the earth or\ntravelled to other parts was never heard tell. But the likeness of that\nbeast was the whole and only treasure came out of the sack the poor man\ndug from under the roots of the lone bush where the fairy gold was hid.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nM'CARTHY OF CONNACHT\n\n\nI\n\nThere was a fine young gentleman the name of M'Carthy, he had a most\nbeautiful countenance and for strength and prowess there was none to\nequal him in the baronies of Connacht. But he began to dwine away, and\nno person knew what ailed him. He used no food at all and he became\ngreatly reduced, the way he was not able to rise from his bed and he\nletting horrid groans and lamentations out of him. His father sent\nfor three skilled doctors to come and find out what sort of disease\nit might be, and a big reward was promised for the cure.\n\nThree noted doctors came on the one day and they searched every vein\nin young M'Carthy's body, but they could put no name on the sickness\nnor think of a remedy to relieve it. They came down from the room\nand reported that the disease had them baffled entirely.\n\n\"Am I to be at the loss of a son is the finest boy in all\nIreland?\" says the father.\n\nNow one of the doctors had a man with him was a very soft-spoken\nperson, and he up and says:\n\n\"Maybe your honours would be giving me permission to visit the young\ngentleman. I have a tongue on me is that sweet I do be drawing the\nsecrets of the world out of men and women and little children.\"\n\nWell they brought him up to the room and they left him alone with\nM'Carthy. He sat down by the side of the bed and began for to flatter\nhim, the like of such conversation was never heard before.\n\nAt long last he says, \"Let your Lordship's honour be telling me--What\nis it ails you at all?\"\n\n\"You will never let on to a living soul?\" asks M'Carthy.\n\n\"Is it that I'd be lodging an information against a noble person like\nyourself?\" says the man.\n\nWith that the young gentleman began telling the secrets of his heart.\n\n\"It is no disease is on me,\" says he, \"but a terrible misfortune.\"\n\n\"'Tis heart scalded I am that you have either a sorrow or a sickness,\nand you grand to look on and better to listen to,\" says the other.\n\n\"It is in love I am,\" says M'Carthy.\n\n\"And how would that be a misfortune to a fine lad like yourself?\" asks\nthe man.\n\n\"Let you never let on!\" says M'Carthy. \"The way of it is this: I am\nlamenting for no lady is walking the world, nor for one is dead that\nI could be following to the grave. I have a little statue has the\nmost beautiful countenance on it was ever seen, and it is destroyed\nwith grief I am that it will never be speaking to me at all.\"\n\nWith that he brought the image out from under his pillow, and the\nloveliness of it made the man lep off the chair.\n\n\"I'd be stealing the wee statue from your honour if I stopped in this\nplace,\" says he. \"But let you take valour into your heart, for that\nis the likeness of a lady is living in the world, you will be finding\nher surely.\"\n\nWith that he went down to the three doctors and the old man were\nwaiting below. For all his promises to young M'Carthy he told the\nlot of them all he was after hearing. The doctors allowed that if\nthe gentleman's life was to be saved he must be got out of his bed\nand sent away on his travels.\n\n\"For a time he will be hopeful of finding her,\" says the oldest\ndoctor. \"Then the whole notion will pass off him, and he seeing\nstrange lands and great wonders to divert him.\"\n\nThe father was that anxious for the son's recovery that he agreed to\nsell the place and give him a big handful of money for the journey.\n\n\"It is little I'll be needing for myself from this out, and I am old\nman near ripe for the grave,\" says he.\n\nSo they all went up to the room and told young M'Carthy to rise\nfrom his bed and eat a good dinner, for the grandest arrangements\nout were made for his future and he'd surely meet the lady. When he\nseen that no person was mocking him he got into the best of humour,\nand he came down and feasted with them.\n\nNot a long afterwards he took the big handful of money and set out on\nhis travels, bringing the statue with him. He went over the provinces\nof Ireland, then he took sea to England and wandered it entirely,\naway to France with him next and from that to every art and part of\nthe world. He had the strangest adventures, and he seen more wonders\nthan could ever be told or remembered. At the latter end he came back\nto the old country again, with no more nor a coin or two left of the\nwhole great fortune of money. The whole time he never seen a lady was\nthe least like the wee statue; and the words of the old doctor were\nonly a deceit for he didn't quit thinking of her at all. M'Carthy\nwas a handsome young gentleman, and if it was small heed he had for\nany person he met it was great notice was taken of him. Sure it was a\nQueen, no less, and five or six princesses were thinking long thoughts\non himself.\n\nThe hope was near dead in his heart and the sickness of grief was on\nhim again when he came home to Ireland. Soon after he landed from\nthe ship he chanced to come on a gentleman's place, and it a fine\nbig house he never had seen before. He went up and inquired of the\nservants if he would get leave to rest there. He was given a most\nhonourable reception, and the master of the house was well pleased to\nbe entertaining such an agreeable guest. Now himself happened to be a\nJew, and that is the why he did not ask M'Carthy to eat at his table,\nbut had his dinner set out for him in a separate room. The servants\nremarked on the small share of food he was using, it was scarcely what\nwould keep the life in a young child; but he asked them not to make\nany observation of the sort. At first they obeyed him, yet when he used\nno meat at all on the third day, didn't they speak with their master.\n\n\"What is the cause of it at all?\" he says to M'Carthy. \"Is the food\nin this place not to your liking? Let you name any dish you have a\ncraving for, and the cook will prepare it.\"\n\n\"There was never better refreshment set before an emperor,\" says\nM'Carthy.\n\n\"It is civility makes you that flattering,\" answers the Jew. \"How\nwould you be satisfied with the meat is set before you when you are\nnot able to use any portion of it at all?\"\n\n\"I doubt I have a sickness on me will be the means of my death,\" says\nM'Carthy. \"I had best be moving on from this place, the way I'll not\nbe rewarding your kindness with the botheration of a corpse.\"\n\nWith that the master of the house began for to speak in praise of a\ndoctor was in those parts.\n\n\"I see I must be telling you what is in it,\" says M'Carthy. \"Doctors\nhave no relief for the sort of tribulation is destroying me.\"\n\nHe brought out the statue, and he went over the whole story from start\nto finish. How he set off on his travels and was hopeful for awhile;\nand how despair got hold of him again.\n\n\"Let you be rejoicing now,\" says the Jew, \"for it is near that lady\nyou are this day. She comes down to a stream is convenient to this\nplace, and six waiting maids along with her, bringing a rod and line\nfor to fish. And it is always at the one hour she is in it.\"\n\nWell, M'Carthy was lepping wild with delight to hear tell of the lady.\n\n\"Let you do all I'm saying,\" the Jew advises him. \"I'll provide you\nwith the best of fishing tackle, and do you go down to the stream\nfor to fish in it too. Whatever comes to your line let you give to\nthe lady. But say nothing might scare her at all and don't follow\nafter her if she turns to go home.\"\n\nThe next day M'Carthy went out for to fish, not a long was he at the\nstream before the lady came down and the six waiting maids along with\nher. Sure enough she was the picture of the statue, and she had the\nloveliest golden hair was ever seen.\n\nM'Carthy had the luck to catch a noble trout, and he took it off\nthe hook, rolled it in leaves and brought it to the lady, according\nto the advice of the Jew. She was pleased to accept the gift of it,\nbut didn't she turn home at once and the six waiting maids along with\nher. When she went into her own house she took the fish to her father.\n\n\"There was a noble person at the stream this day,\" she says, \"and he\nmade me a present of the trout.\"\n\nNext morning M'Carthy went to fish again, and he seen the lady coming\nand her six waiting maids walking behind her. He caught a splendid fine\ntrout and brought it over to her; with that she turned home at once.\n\n\"Father,\" says she, when she went in, \"the gentleman is after giving\nme a fish is bigger and better nor the one I brought back yesterday. If\nthe like happens at the next time I go to the stream I will be inviting\nthe noble person to partake of refreshment in this place.\"\n\n\"Let you do as best pleases yourself,\" says her father.\n\nWell, sure enough, M'Carthy got the biggest trout of all the third\ntime. The lady was in the height of humour, and she asked would\nhe go up to the house with her that day. She walked with M'Carthy\nbeside her, and the six waiting maids behind them. They conversed\nvery pleasantly together, and at last he found courage for to tell\nher of how he travelled the world to seek no person less than herself.\n\n\"I'm fearing you'll need to set out on a second journey, the way you\nwill be coming in with some other one,\" says she. \"I have an old father\nis after refusing two score of suitors were asking me off him. I do be\nthinking I'll not get joining the world at all, unless a king would\nbe persuading himself of the advancement is in having a son-in-law\nwearing a golden crown upon his head. The whole time it is great\nfreedom I have, and I walking where it pleases me with six waiting\nmaids along with me. The old man has a notion they'd inform him if\nI was up to any diversion, but that is not the way of it at all.\"\n\n\"It is funning you are, surely,\" says M'Carthy. \"If himself is that\nuneasy about you how would it be possible you'd bring me to the house\nto be speaking with him?\"\n\n\"He is a kindly man and reasonable,\" says she, \"and it is a good\nreception you'll be getting. Only let you not be speaking of marriage\nwith me, for he cannot endure to hear tell of the like.\"\n\nWell, the old man made M'Carthy welcome, and he had no suspicion the\ntwo were in notion of other. But didn't they arrange all unbeknownst\nto him, and plan out an elopement.\n\nM'Carthy went back to the Jew, and he told him all. \"But,\" says he,\n\"I am after spending my whole great fortune of money travelling the\nterritory of the world. I must be finding a good situation the way\nI'll make suitable provision for herself.\"\n\n\"Don't be in the least distress,\" says the Jew. \"I did not befriend\nyou this far to be leaving you in a bad case at the latter end. I'll\noblige you with the loan of what money will start you in a fine\nplace. You will be making repayment at the end of three years when\nyou have made your profit on the business.\"\n\nThe young gentleman accepted the offer, and he fair wild with\ndelight. Moreover, the Jew gave himself and the lady grand assistance\nat the elopement, the way they got safe out of it and escaped from\nher father was raging in pursuit.\n\nM'Carthy was rejoicing surely, and he married to a wife was the\npicture of the statue. Herself was in the best of humour too, for\nit was small delight she had in her own place, roaming the fields\nor stopping within and six waiting maids along with her. A fine,\nhandsome husband was the right company for her like. They bought a\nlovely house and farm of land with the money was lent by the Jew;\nand they fixed all the grandest ever was seen. After a while M'Carthy\ngot a good commission to be an officer, the way nothing more in the\nworld was needful to their happiness.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nM'Carthy and his lady had a fine life of it, they lacking for no\ncomfort or splendour at all. The officer's commission he had, brought\nhimself over to England from time to time, and the lady M'Carthy would\nmind all until he was home. He saved up what money was superfluous, and\nall was gathered to repay the loan to the Jew only for a few pounds.\n\nWell it happened that M'Carthy went to England, and there he fell\nin with a droll sort of a man was the best of company. They played\ncards together and they drank a great power of wine. In the latter\nend a dispute came about between them, for the both claimed to have\nthe best woman.\n\n\"I have a lady beyond in Ireland,\" says M'Carthy, \"and she is an\nornament to the roads when she is passing along. But no person gets\nseeing her these times and that is a big misfortune to the world.\"\n\n\"What's the cause?\" asks the Englishman.\n\n\"I'd have a grief on me to think another man might be looking on\nher and I not standing by,\" says M'Carthy. \"So she gives me that\nsatisfaction on her promised word: all the time I do be away she\nnever quits the house, and no man body is allowed within.\"\n\nThe Englishman let a great laugh out of him at the words.\n\n\"You are simple enough!\" says he. \"Don't you know rightly when you\nare not in it herself will be feasting and entertaining and going on\nwith every diversion?\"\n\nM'Carthy was raging at the impertinence of him, and he offered for\nto fight.\n\n\"What would that be proving?\" says the Englishman. \"Let you make a\npowerful big bet with myself that I will not be able for to bring\nyou a token from your lady and a full description of her appearance.\"\n\n\"I'll be winning the money off you, surely!\" says M'Carthy.\n\n\"Not at all,\" says the Englishman. \"I'm not in the least uneasy about\nit, for I'm full sure it's the truth I'm after speaking of how she\ndoes be playing herself in your absence.\"\n\n\"You'll find me in this place and you coming back,\" says M'Carthy. \"Let\nyou be prepared with the money to have along with you.\"\n\nThe Englishman took ship to Ireland, and he came to the house of the\nlady M'Carthy. Herself was in the kitchen making a cake, and she seen\nthe man walking up to the door. Away she run to the parlour, and in\nthe hurry she forgot the lovely pearl ring she took off her finger\nwhen she began at the cooking. Well, he found the door standing open,\nand he seen the ring on the kitchen table. It was easy knowing it\nwas no common article would be in the possession of any one but the\nmistress of the house. What did the lad do, only slip in and put it\nin his pocket. With that the waiting maid came and asked his business,\nthe lady M'Carthy was after sending her down.\n\n\"Oh, no business at all,\" says he. \"But I am weary travelling and I\nthought I might rest in this place.\"\n\nHe began for to flatter the girl and to offer her bribes, and in the\nlatter end he got her to speak. She told him all what the mistress\nof the house was like; how she had a mole under her right arm and\none on her left knee. Moreover she gave him a few long golden hairs\nshe got out of the lady's comb.\n\nThe Englishman went back to M'Carthy, brought him the tokens,\nand demanded the payment of the bet. And that is the way the poor\ngentleman spent the money he had saved up for the Jew.\n\nM'Carthy sent word to his wife that he was coming home, and for her to\nmeet him on the ship. She put her grandest raiment upon her and started\naway at once. She went out to the ship and got up on the deck where\nshe seen her husband standing. When she went over to him he never said\na word at all, but he swept her aside with his arm the way she fell\ninto the water. Then he went on shore full sure he had her drowned.\n\nBut there was another ship coming in, and a miller that was on her\nseen the lady struggling in the sea. He was an aged man, yet he\nventured in after her and he saved the poor creature's life.\n\nWell, the miller was a good sort of a man and he had great compassion\nfor herself when she told him her story. She had no knowledge of the\ncause of her husband being vexed with her, and she thought it hard\nto believe the evidence of her senses that he was after striving to\nmake away with her. The miller advised the lady M'Carthy to go on\nwith the ship was sailing to another port, for may be if she went\nhome after the man he would be destroying her.\n\nWhen the ship came into harbour the news was going of a great\nlawsuit. The miller heard all, and he brought word to the lady that\nM'Carthy was in danger of death.\n\n\"There are three charges against him,\" says the miller. \"Your father\nhas him impeached for stealing you away and you not wishful to be\nwith him: that is the first crime.\"\n\n\"That is a false charge,\" says she, \"for I helped for to plan the\nwhole elopement. My father is surely saying all in good faith, but\nit is a lie the whole time.\"\n\n\"A Jew has him accused for a sum of money was borrowed, and it due\nfor repayment: that is the second crime,\" says the miller.\n\n\"The money was all gathered up for to pay the debt,\" says the\nlady. \"Where can it be if M'Carthy will not produce it?\"\n\n\"The law has him committed for the murder of yourself: and that is\nthe third crime,\" says the miller.\n\n\"And a false charge too, seeing you saved me in that ill hour. I am\nthinking I'd do well to be giving evidence in court of law, for it's\nmaybe an inglorious death they'll be giving him,\" says she.\n\n\"Isn't that what he laid out for yourself?\" asks the miller.\n\n\"It is surely, whatever madness came to him. But I have a good wish\nfor him the whole time.\"\n\n\"If that is the way of it we had best be setting out,\" says he.\n\nThe lady and the miller travelled overland, it being a shorter journey\nnor the one they were after coming by sea. When they got to the court\nof law wasn't the judge after condemning M'Carthy; and it was little\nthe poor gentleman cared for the sentence of death was passed on him.\n\n\"My life is bitter and poisoned on me,\" says he, \"maybe the grave is\nthe best place.\"\n\nWith that the lady M'Carthy stood up in the court and gave out that she\nhad not been destroyed at all, for the miller saved her from the sea.\n\nThey began the whole trial over again, and herself told how she\nplanned the elopement, and her father had no case at all. She could not\ntell why M'Carthy was wishful to destroy her, and he had kept all to\nhimself at the first trial. But by degrees all was brought to light:\nthe villainy of the Englishman and the deceit was practised on them\nby him and the servant girl.\n\nIt was decreed that the money was to be restored by that villain,\nand the Jew was to get his payment out of it.\n\nThe lady M'Carthy's father was in such rejoicement to see his\ndaughter and she alive, that he forgave herself and the husband for\nthe elopement. Didn't the three of them go away home together and\nthey the happiest people were ever heard tell of in the world.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nNALLAGH'S CHILD\n\n\nIn the ancient days there were a power of the Good People travelling\nthe land of Breffny. It was easy knowing they were middling proud\nand conceity in themselves, for they rode upon what appeared to be\nhorses and had music with them, no less! Children were changed by the\nfairies too, and no matter what way they were reared the like never\ngrew to be right things.\n\nThere was once a man the name of Nallagh, lived in a tidy little\nplace beyond the river. The wife and himself had one child, a gosoon,\nthat could never be learned to speak, nor walk, nor stand upright,\nnor evenly to crawl upon the floor. The whole time the creature had\nall his makes and shapes natural and good only for a powerful great\nhead was on him.\n\nThe mother had her own times minding the youngster. Evenly when he\nwas right big she'd be lifting him out of the bed, at the morning of\nthe day, and fixing him up in a chair. There he'd sit, watching the\nfire until the fall of night, seemingly contented and in the best of\nhumour. He had great observation for all that would be doing in the\nplace, and if the least thing went astray he'd have an odious cor on\nhim. The fire was his whole delight, when a turf fell and the sparks\nflew he'd open his mouth until you'd swear he was going to let a crow\nout of him. But never a sound came at all.\n\nIt happened one time that Nallagh and the wife went to market,\nleaving the servant boy and servant girl to mind the place.\n\n\"Let you keep up a good fire for the youngster, the way he will not be\nlonesome, and he looking on the glowing turf is his whole delight. Let\nyou attend to your business the same as if myself was standing by\nto bid you do all things particular and tasty,\" says the mistress,\nand she going out at the door.\n\nNot a long were the two by their lone before they quit working and\nbegan for to play themselves through the kitchen.\n\nSays the servant boy: \"We'd do well to be making a little feast,\nconsidering herself is not in it, and the wee coley but a silent\ncreature will not be clashing on us at all.\"\n\nWith that they brought the best of butter, cream and the like from\nthe dairy, and the girl mixed all in a meskin for to make a butter\ncake. They built the fire with turf enough to roast the dinner of\na giant, set the pot-hooks in the ears of the pan and let down the\ncrook for to hang it on. \"With the help of the Living Powers, that'll\nbe the luscious bit,\" says the servant girl, putting down the batter\nfor to bake.\n\nThe whole time they were at their diversions Nallagh's child never\nquit watching the pair. Maybe it's in expectation he was of getting\nhis taste of the feast.\n\nThe butter cake was doing nicely, turning a grand colour and a lovely\nsmell rising off it. The two heroes were in the best of humour,\nchatting other and funning, when all of a sudden the servant boy\nchanced to look out over the half door. \"I declare to man, we're\ndestroyed entirely,\" says he. \"Himself and the mistress are without!\"\n\nSure enough it was Nallagh and the wife were after delaying in\nthe market but a short space only. The girl, hearing tell of them\ncoming in on her sooner nor they were expected, had the wit to whip\nthe butter cake off the fire, and she slipped it in under the chair\nwhere the child was all times sitting.\n\n\"It's the queer old cor he's putting on his countenance,\" says\nshe. \"But what about it, considering he is unable for to clash on us!\"\n\nWith that the father and mother came into the kitchen. And the four\nnear fell dead with wonderment and fear, for when he seen the parents\nthe wee lad cried out:\n\n\"Hot, hot under my chair!\"\n\nThe servants were in odious dread, full sure they'd be found out and\nhunted from the place. For the butter cake was steaming mad from the\nfire, and the child never quit shouting:\n\n\"Hot, hot under my chair!\"\n\nHe didn't let another word out of him but only the one thing, saying\nit maybe a hundred times after other:\n\n\"Hot, hot under my chair.\"\n\nWell, if he was to say it a hundred times, or a thousand itself,\nNallagh and the wife could not know what in under the shining Heaven\nhe was striving for to tell. They were all of a tremblement with the\nwonder of the speech coming to him, and they never thought to consider\nwas there sense in the words at all. It was a great miracle, surely, to\nhear the creature that never made a sound before, and he roaring out:\n\n\"Hot, hot under my chair!\"\n\nThe old people were that put about they never thought to look round\nthe place to see was anything astray; and I promise you the two heroes\ndidn't ask to clash on themselves.\n\nThe whole house was left through other until the fall of night, and\nevery person in it was weary to the world with the dread and surprise\nwas on them. After dark the mother puts the son to bed, fixing him\nup right comfortable. But it was not a sweet rest was laid out for\nthe people of that house.\n\nIn the darkness of the black midnight, a powerful great storm shook\nthe place. It was like as if the four winds of Heaven were striving\ntogether, and they horrid vexed with one another. There were strange\nnoises in it too, music and shouting, the way it was easy knowing the\nGood People were out playing themselves, or maybe disputing in a war.\n\nThinking the child might be scared at the commotion, herself took a\nlight in her hand and went over to his bed.\n\n\"Is all well with you, sonny?\" says she, for she had a fashion of\nspeaking with him, evenly if it was no answers he'd give.\n\nBut the little fellow was not in it at all, he was away travelling\nthe world with the Fairy horsemen were after coming for him.\n\nThe whole disturbance died out as speedy and sudden as it came. The\nmusic dwined in the far distance and the wind was still as the dawn\nof a summer's day. Sure it was no right tempest at all but an old\nfurl blast the Good People had out for their diversion.\n\nThe child was never restored to Nallagh and the wife. The fairies\nleft them in peace from that out; they never heard the music on the\ndistant hills, nor the regiments of horsemen passing by. The whole\ntime it was lonesome they'd be, and they looking on the empty chair\nwhere the strange child delighted to sit silent, watching the turf\nwas glowing red.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE ENCHANTED HARE\n\n\nThere was a strong farmer one time and he had nine beautiful cows\ngrazing on the best of land. Surely that was a great prosperity,\nand you'd be thinking him the richest man in all the countryside. But\nit was little milk he was getting from his nine lovely cows, and no\nbutter from the milk. They'd be churning in that house for three hours\nor maybe for five hours of a morning, and at the end of all a few wee\ngrains of butter, the dead spit of spiders' eggs, would be floating\non the top of the milk. Evenly that much did not remain to it, for\nwhen herself ran the strainer in under them they melted from the churn.\n\nThere were great confabulations held about the loss of the yield,\nbut the strength of the spoken word was powerless to restore what\nwas gone. Herself allowed that her man be to have the evil eye, and\nit was overlooking his own cattle he was by walking through them and\nhe fasting at the dawn of day. The notion didn't please him too well,\nindeed he was horrid vexed at her for saying the like, but he went no\nmore among the cows until after his breakfast time. Sure that done no\ngood at all--it was less and less milk came in each day. And butter\ngoing a lovely price in the market, to leave it a worse annoyance to\nhave none for to sell.\n\nThe man of the house kept a tongue hound that was odious wise. The\ntwo walked the cattle together, and it happened one day that they\ncame on a hare was running with the nine cows through the field. The\nhound gave tongue and away with him after the hare, she making a\ngreat offer to escape.\n\n\"Maybe there is something in it,\" says the man to himself. \"I have\nheard my old grandfather tell that hares be's enchanted people;\nlet it be true or no, I doubt they're not right things in any case.\"\n\nWith that he set out for to follow his tongue hound, and the hunt went\nover the ditches and through the quick hedges and down by the lake.\n\n\"Begob it's odious weighty I am to be diverting myself like a little\ngosoon,\" says the man. And indeed he was a big, hearty farmer was\nleaving powerful gaps behind him where he burst through the hedges.\n\nThere was a small, wee house up an old laneway, and that was where\nthe hunt headed for. The hare came in on the street not a yard in\nfront of the tongue hound, and she made a lep for to get into the\ncabin by a hole on the wall convenient to the door. The hound got a\ngrip of her and she rising from the ground. But the farmer was coming\nup close behind them and didn't he let a great crow out of him.\n\n\"Hold your hold, my bully boy! Hold your hold!\" The tongue hound\nturned at the voice of the master calling, and the hare contrived\nfor to slip from between his teeth. One spring brought her in on\nthe hole in the wall, but she splashed it with blood as she passed,\nand there was blood on the mouth of the hound.\n\nThe man came up, cursing himself for spoiling the diversion, but\nhe was well determined to follow on. He took the coat off his back\nand he stuffed it into the opening the way the hare had no chance to\nget out where she was after entering, then he walked round the house\nfor to see was there any means of escape for what was within. There\nwasn't evenly a space where a fly might contrive to slip through,\nand himself was satisfied the hunt was shaping well.\n\nHe went to the door, and it was there the tongue hound went wild to\nbe making an entry, but a lock and a chain were upon it. The farmer\ntook up a stone and he broke all before him to get in after the hare\nthey followed so far.\n\n\"The old house is empty this long time,\" says he, \"and evenly if I be\nto repair the destruction I make--sure what is the price of a chain\nand a lock to a fine, warm man like myself!\"\n\nWith that he pushed into the kitchen, and there was neither sight\nnor sign of a hare to be found, but an old woman lay in a corner and\nshe bleeding.\n\nThe tongue hound gave the mournfullest whine and he juked to his\nmaster's feet, it was easy knowing the beast was in odious dread. The\nfarmer gave a sort of a groan and he turned for to go away home.\n\n\"It's a queer old diversion I'm after enjoying,\" says he. \"Surely\nthere's not a many in the world do be hunting hares through the fields\nand catching old women are bleeding to death.\"\n\nWhen he came to his own place the wife ran out of the house.\n\n\"Will you look at the gallons of beautiful milk the cows are after\ngiving this day,\" says she, pulling him in on the door.\n\nSure enough from that out there was a great plenty of milk and a\nright yield of butter on the churn.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE BRIDGE OF THE KIST\n\n\nThere was once a man the name of Michael Hugh, and he was tormented\nwith dreams of a kist was buried in under a bridge in England. For\nawhile he took no heed to the visions were with him in the stillness\nof the night, but at long last the notion grew in his mind that he\nbe to visit that place and find out was there anything in it.\n\n\"I could make right use of a treasure,\" thinks he to himself. \"For 'tis\nheart scalded I am with dwelling in poverty, and a great weariness\nis on me from toiling for a miserable wage.\" Then he bethought of\nthe foolishness of making the journey if all turned out a deceit.\n\n\"Sure I'll be rid of belief in the dreams are driving me daft with\ntheir grandeur and perseverance,\" says he. \"Evenly failure will bring\na sort of satisfaction for I'll get fooling whatever spirit does be\nbringing the vision upon me.\"\n\nSo my brave Michael Hugh took an ash plant in his hand, and away with\nhim oversea to England to discover the bridge of the kist.\n\nHe was a twelvemonth travelling and rambling with no success to rise\nhis heart, and he began for to consider he had better return to his\nown place. But just as he was making ready to turn didn't he chance\non a strong flowing river, and the sight near left his eyes when he\nfound it was spanned by the bridge he was after dreaming of.\n\nWell Michael Hugh went over and he looked down on the black depth of\nwater was flowing in under the arch.\n\n\"It'll be a hard thing surely to be digging for a kist in that place,\"\nsays he. \"I'm thinking a man would find a sore death and no treasure\nat all if he lepped into the flood. But maybe it's laid out for\nme to gather my fortune here, and some person may come for to give\nme instruction.\"\n\nWith that he walked up and down over the bridge, hoping for further\nadvice since he could not contrive a wisdom for his use. There was\na house convenient to the river, and after awhile a man came from it.\n\n\"Are you waiting on any person in this place?\" says he to Michael\nHugh. \"It's bitter weather to be abroad and you be to be as hardy as\na wild duck to endure the cold blast on the bridge.\"\n\n\"I'm hardy surely,\" Michael Hugh makes his answer. \"But 'tis no easy\nmatter to tell if I'm waiting on any person.\"\n\n\"You're funning me,\" says the Englishman. \"How would you be abroad\nwithout reason, and you having a beautiful wise countenance on you?\"\n\nWith that Michael Hugh told him the story of the dreams that brought\nhim from Ireland, and how he was expectant of a sign to instruct him\nto come at the kist. The Englishman let a great laugh.\n\n\"You're a simple fellow,\" says he. \"Let you give up heeding the\nlike of visions and ghosts, for there is madness in the same and no\npure reason at all. There's few has more nor better knowledge than\nmyself of how they be striving to entice us from our work, but I'm\na reasonable man and I never gave in to them yet.\"\n\n\"Might I make so free as to ask,\" says Michael Hugh, \"what sort of\na vision are you after resisting?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you and welcome,\" says the Englishman. \"There isn't a night\nof my life but I hear a voice calling: 'Away with you to Ireland, and\nseek out a man the name of Michael Hugh. There is treasure buried in\nunder a lone bush in his garden, and that is in Breffny of Connacht.'\"\n\nThe poor Irishman was near demented with joy at the words, for he\nunderstood he was brought all that journey to learn of gold was a\nstone's throw from his own little cabin door.\n\nBut he was a conny sort of a person, and he never let on to the other\nthat Michael Hugh was the name of him, nor that he came from Breffny\nof Connacht.\n\nThe Englishman invited him into his house for to rest there that night,\nand he didn't spare his advice that dreams were a folly and sin.\n\n\"You have me convinced of the meaning of my visions,\" says Michael\nHugh. \"And what's more I'll go home as you bid me.\"\n\nNext morning he started out, and he made great haste with the desire\nwas on him to get digging the gold.\n\nWhen he came to his own place in Connacht he made straight for a\nloy and then for the lone bush. Not a long was he digging before he\nhoked out a precious crock full of treasure, and he carried it into\nthe house.\n\nThere was a piece of a flag stone lying on top of the gold, and there\nwas a writing cut into it. What might be the meaning of that Michael\nHugh had no notion, for the words were not Gaelic nor English at all.\n\nIt happened one evening that a poor scholar came in for to make\nhis cailee.\n\n\"Can you read me that inscription, mister?\" asks Michael Hugh,\nbringing out the flag.\n\n\"Aye surely,\" says the poor scholar. \"That is a Latin writing, and\nI am well learned in the same.\"\n\n\"What meaning is in it?\" asks the other.\n\n\"'The same at the far side,'\" says the scholar. \"And that is a droll\nsaying surely when it gives no information beyond.\"\n\n\"Maybe it will serve my turn, mister!\" says Michael Hugh, in the best\nof humour.\n\nAfter the scholar was gone on his way, didn't himself take the loy\nand out to the garden. He began for to dig at the far side of the\nlone bush, and sure enough he found a second beautiful kist the dead\nspit of the first.\n\nIt was great prosperity he enjoyed from that out. And he bought the\ngrandest of raiment, the way the neighbours began for to call him\nMichael Hughie the Cock.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE CHILD AND THE FIDDLE\n\n\nThere was a woman one time, and she had the fretfullest child in all\nIreland. He lay in the cradle and lamented from morning to night and\nfrom dark to the dawn of day. There was no prosperity nor comfort in\nthat house from he came to it. All things went astray within in the\nkitchen and without upon the farm: the cattle fell sick, the potatoes\ntook a blight, there was not a taste of butter on the churn, and evenly\nthe cat began for to dwine and dwine away. But of all the misfortunes\nthat come the woefullest was the continual strife between the man and\nwoman of the house, and they a couple that were horrid fond aforetime.\n\nIt happened when the child was about eighteen months of age that a\nstrange man was hired to work on the farm. Surely he'd never have\nventured into the place if he had heard tell of the ill luck was in\nit, but he was from distant parts and didn't know a heth.\n\nOne day he chanced to be in from the work a while before the master\nof the house, and herself was gone to the spring for water. The hired\nman sat down by the kitchen fire, taking no heed of the child was\nwatching him from the cradle. The little fellow quit his lamenting;\nhe sat up straight, with a countenance on him like a wise old man.\n\n\"I will be playing you a tune on the fiddle, for I'm thinking 'tis\nfond of the music you are,\" says he.\n\nThe man near fell into the fire with wonderment to hear the\nold-fashioned talk. He didn't say one word in answer, but he waited\nto see what would be coming next.\n\nThe small weak infant pulled a fiddle out from under the pillow of\nthe cradle, and he began for to play the loveliest music was ever\nheard in this world. He had reels and jigs, songs and sets; merry\ntunes would rise the heart of man and mournful tunes would fill the\nmind with grief.\n\nThe man sat listening, and he was all put through other, thinking\nthe child was no right thing.\n\nAfter a time the little lad quit playing, he put back the fiddle\nwhere he took it from and began at his old whimpering again. Herself\ncame in at the door with a bucket of water in her hand. Well the man\nwalked out and he called her after him.\n\n\"That is a strange child you have, mistress,\" says he.\n\n\"A strange child, surely, and a sorrowful,\" she makes answer. \"It\nis tormented with his roaring you are, no person could be enduring\nit continually.\"\n\n\"Did ever he play on the fiddle in your hearing?\" asks the man.\n\n\"Is it raving you are?\" says she.\n\n\"I am not, mistress,\" he answers. \"He is after giving me the best of\nentertainment with reels and marches and jigs.\"\n\n\"Let you quit funning me!\" says she, getting vexed.\n\n\"I see you are doubting my words,\" he replies. \"Do you stand here\nwithout where he'll not be looking on you at all. I'll go into the\nkitchen, and maybe he'll bring out the fiddle again.\"\n\nWith that he went in, leaving herself posted convenient to the window.\n\nSays he to the child, \"I'm thinking there's not above a score\nof fiddlers in all Ireland having better knowledge of music nor\nyourself. Sure that is a great wonder and you but an innocent little\nthing.\"\n\n\"Maybe it's not that innocent I am,\" says the child. \"And let me tell\nyou there isn't one fiddler itself to be my equal in the land.\"\n\n\"You're boasting, you bold wee coley,\" says the man.\n\nThe child sat up in a great rage, pulled the fiddle from under\nthe pillow and began for to play a tune was grander nor the lot he\ngave first.\n\nThe man went out to herself.\n\n\"Are you satisfied now?\" he asks.\n\n\"My heart beats time to his reels,\" says she. \"Run down to the field\nand send the master to this place that he may hear him too.\"\n\nThe man of the house came up in a terrible temper.\n\n\"If it's lies you are telling me, I'll brain the pair of you with\nthe loy,\" says he, when he heard the news of the fiddle.\n\n\"Put your ear to the window it's soft he is playing now,\" says\nhis wife.\n\nBut the words weren't out of her mouth before a blast of loud music\nwas heard. Himself ran in on the door, and he seen the gosoon sitting\nup playing tunes.\n\n\"Let you be off out of this,\" says he, \"or I'll throw you at the back\nof the fire, for you are no right thing at all.\"\n\nWith that the little fellow made a powerful great lep out of the\ncradle, across the floor and away with him out over the fields.\n\nBut he left his fiddle behind, and the master of the house threw it\ndown on the burning turf. And that was no true fiddle at all, only\na piece of an old bog stick was rotten with age.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE CUTTING OF THE TREE\n\n\nThere was a wild sort of a lad the name of Francis Pat, and he was\na great warrant to be entertaining the people with his airy talk. He\nwas the whole go in every spree and join was held in the countryside;\nand the neighbours all had a fine welcome when he'd come to make\nhis cailee.\n\nHe joined the world when he was about thirty years of age, and he got\na fine sensible woman with a nice little handful of money. Herself\ndidn't care to be rambling at all, and she'd sit with her stitching\nor knitting when he went out after dark.\n\nIt chanced one time, not a long from they were married, that Francis\nPat went to a raffle was held in the next townland. When the company\nset out for to go away home, in the black darkness of the night,\nevery person in it was afraid to pass down by the fort.\n\n\"What is on you at all?\" says Francis Pat. \"I think scorn on the lot\nof you are in dread of the Good People.\"\n\n\"God be with them--and their faces from us, their backs to us, the\nway they're good friends,\" says an old man. \"I have great experience\nto know that it's a danger to evenly make fun in speech of the like.\"\n\n\"Away with you by the long hard road,\" says Francis Pat. \"'Tis I will\nwalk my lone past the fort, and I dare the fairies to molest me.\" The\nneighbours strove to break his intention, but he was persistent\nand proud.\n\nWhen he came to the fort he seen a light, he heard voices speaking\nand the blows of an axe against wood.\n\n\"There is one more daring nor myself abroad this hour,\" thinks Francis\nPat. \"I never heard tell of any person having audacity to interfere\nwith the trees of the circle.\"\n\nCuriosity came on him to know who could it be, and he juked over\nto the light. He seen no sign of the men, however he peeped, but he\nheard the words and the blows.\n\n\"Where'll we carry the wood?\" says a voice.\n\n\"To the house on the hill,\" says another. \"We be to bring out the\nwife of Francis Pat, and the tree may stop there in her stead.\"\n\n\"He'll never know the differ,\" says the first. \"It's a fine thing\nsurely to make an image from a tree that a man couldn't know from\nherself.\" With that there was great laughter and cheering, but the lad\ndidn't wait to hear more--he sped away home to the house on the hill.\n\nNot a heth did he let on to the wife about what he was after\ndiscovering, but he had a strong oath taken in his own mind that the\nfairies should not lift her from him.\n\nHe bolted the door of the kitchen, and the two went into the\nroom. After awhile there came a cry on the street without, and it\ndwined away into the byre. The cows began for to stamp and strive to\nget free of the bails.\n\n\"Let you go out and see what ails the creatures,\" says herself.\n\n\"There is nothing on them,\" says he. \"I'll not leave this place till\nthe sun rises for day.\"\n\nThen there came a powerful blast of wind, and the pigs set up the\nawfullest lamentation.\n\n\"I'm not that lazy but I'll find out what it is,\" says herself.\n\n\"You'll stop where you are,\" says he. \"Didn't you hear the blast\ngoing by, and every person knows that pigs see the wind?\"\n\n\"Whatever they're beholding this minute is a sore distress to the\ncreatures,\" she answers.\n\n\"Aye!\" he allows. \"The wind is red, and that is the cause of them\ncrying.\" There came a crash on the door of the kitchen and it blew in;\nthe plates were dashed off the dresser, and the saucepans fell from\nthe nails on the wall.\n\nFrancis Pat had to hold herself by the arm to keep her from running\nto gather the delf. Voices came shouting, and there was a stamping\nof feet through the house. The woman began for to cry and to roar,\nbut himself kept a hold on her and nothing enticed him away.\n\nAt dawn the commotion died out.\n\n\"What was it at all?\" asks herself.\n\n\"Sure what would it be only a wind was fit to batter the horns off\nthe cows!\" says Francis Pat.\n\nWhen they went into the kitchen what did they find only the image\nlying on the floor. The wood was cut into the living likeness of the\nwoman of the house, and the Good People had thrown it there in the\nanger of the disappointment was on them.\n\nSo my brave Francis Pat told his wife the whole story of the cutting\nof the tree.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE LITTLE SETTLEMENT\n\n\nThere was a strong farmer one time and he was the boastfullest man\nin all Ireland. He had a tidy, comfortable place, sure enough, but\nto hear him speaking you'd be thinking his house was built of silver\nand thatched with the purest gold.\n\nHerself was a very different sort of a person, kindly and\nsimple-hearted; she took no pleasure in making out she had more\nproperty and grandeur than another body; and she was neither envious,\nuncharitable, nor a clash.\n\nThe two had but one child, a daughter, and she was their whole\ndelight. Bride was a beautiful white girl with a countenance on her\nwould charm a king from his golden throne to be walking the bogs\nwith herself. The boys were flocking after her by the score, and she\nhad but to raise her hand to draw any one of them to her side. But,\nbeing a seemly, well-reared lass, she took her diversion without any\nconsideration of marriage at all--well satisfied her father would be\nmaking a fitting settlement for her when the time came.\n\nThe youth of the world will always be playing themselves and chatting\ntogether, all the while them that have right wit and a good upbringing\ndo leave their settlement in the hands of the parents have the best\nunderstanding for the same.\n\n\"I'm thinking,\" says himself one evening, \"that it's old and stiff\nI am growing. It might be a powerful advantage to take a son-in-law\ninto the place, the way I'd get sitting in peace by the hearth,\nand he out in the fields attending to the management of all.\"\n\n\"Bride is full young to be joining the world,\" says his wife. \"But I\nwill not be putting any hindrance in the way of it, for maybe it's\nbetter contented she'd be to have a fine man of her own, foreby to\nbe looking on an old pair like ourselves, and we dozing by the fire\nof an evening.\"\n\n\"I'll be making a little settlement for her, surely,\" says himself.\n\nThe next day he gave out through the country that Bride was to be\nmarried. What with the little handful of money, the fine farm of land\nand the looks of the girl, the suitors were coming in plenty. There\nwere strong farmers, small farmers, tradesmen and dealers; a cow\ndoctor, a blacksmith, and evenly a man that travelled in tea. Himself\nwas disgusted with all; he put out the farmers and dealers very\ncivil and stiff, but the tea man he stoned down the road for a couple\nof miles.\n\nThe next suitor to come was a beautiful young lad the name of Shan\nAlec. He was a tasty worker, and he had the best of good money was left\nhim by his da. Now if you were to seek all Ireland ten times through,\nI'll go bail you wouldn't be finding a more suitable match nor Shan\nAlec and Bride. The girl and her mother were fair wild with delight,\nbut they got an odious disappointment for didn't himself run the poor\nboy out of the house.\n\n\"I'm surprised at you,\" says the wife. \"Why couldn't you have wit\nand give that decent lad an honourable reception?\"\n\n\"Is it to give my daughter to yon country coley?\" says he. \"And I\nthe warmest man in these parts.\"\n\n\"A better match for her like isn't walking this earth,\" says the wife.\n\n\"Hold your whisht, woman,\" says he. \"I'd sooner let the devil have\nher than see her join the world with Shan Alec.\"\n\n\"What is on you at all to be speaking such foolishness?\" asks herself.\n\n\"I'd have you to know,\" says he, \"that I'll have a gentleman for my\nson-in-law and no common person at all.\"\n\n\"It is the raving of prosperity is on you,\" says she. \"And that is\nthe worst madness out.\"\n\n\"Speak easy,\" says he, \"or maybe I'll correct you with the pot stick.\"\n\nWith that she allowed he be to be gone daft entirely, or he'd never\nhave such an unseemly thought as to raise his hand to a woman.\n\n\"Hold your whisht,\" he answers. \"Surely 'tis both hand and foot I'll\nbe giving you unless you quit tongueing.\"\n\nNot a long afterwards a splendid gentleman came to the house, and he\nriding on a horse.\n\n\"I have heard tell,\" says he to the farmer, \"that you are seeking a\nsuitable settlement for your daughter.\"\n\n\"If your honour wants a wife,\" says himself. \"Let you be stepping in,\nfor it's maybe in this house you'll find her.\"\n\nWith that the gentleman got down off his horse, and it was an\nhonourable reception they made him. Evenly herself was content to\nremember the scorn put on poor Shan Alec, when she seen the magnificent\nsuitor was come.\n\nThe gentleman had a smile on his face when he heard all the boasts\nof the farmer.\n\n\"My good man,\" says he, \"I think scorn on your money and land, for\nI'd have you to know that I am a King in my own place. But that girl\nsitting by the hearth has a lovely white countenance on her, and her\nheart I am seeking for love of the same.\"\n\n\"Oh mother,\" says Bride in a whisper, \"will you send him away?\"\n\n\"Is it raving you are?\" asks herself.\n\n\"I'd go through fire and water for my poor Shan Alec!\" says Bride.\n\n\"Will you hold your whisht,\" says her mother. \"That is no right talk\nfor a well-reared girl.\"\n\nThe farmer and the gentleman made their agreement and opened the bottle\nof whiskey. There was to be a nice little feast for to celebrate the\nsettlement, and the cloth was set in the parlour on account of the\ngrandeur of the suitor and he not used to a kitchen at all.\n\nWhen the supper was served didn't the servant girl call the mistress\nout to the kitchen.\n\n\"Oh mam,\" says she. \"I couldn't get word with you in private\nbefore. Let you hunt that lad from the place.\"\n\n\"And why, might I ask?\" says herself.\n\n\"Sure how would he be a right gentleman and he having a foot on him\nlike a horse?\" says the girl.\n\nWith that the mistress began to lament and to groan.\n\n\"What'll I do! What'll I do, and I scared useless with dread?\"\n\n\"I'll go in and impeach him,\" says the servant girl.\n\nIn she went to the parlour.\n\n\"Quit off out of this,\" says she. \"We'll have no horse feet in\nthis place.\"\n\nThe master got up to run her from the room.\n\n\"Look under the table at your lovely gentleman's foot!\" says she.\n\nThe farmer done as she bid, but he was that set in his own conceit\nhe just answers:\n\n\"What harm is in a reel foot? It's no ornament surely, but that's\nall there is to it.\"\n\n\"Many's the reel foot I've laid eyes on,\" she says. \"But yon is the\nhoof of a horse.\"\n\n\"It's truth you are speaking,\" says the gentleman. \"I am the devil\nand no person less.\"\n\n\"Quit off from here,\" says the servant. \"A decent girl, like us two,\nneed never be fearing your like. I'd hit you a skelp with the pot\nstick as soon as I'd stand on a worm.\"\n\n\"You can't put me out,\" says the devil. \"For the man of the house\nhas me promised his daughter.\"\n\n\"There is no person living,\" says Bride, \"might have power on the\nsoul of another. If my sins don't deliver me into your hand the word\nof my da is no use.\"\n\n\"Then I'll be taking himself,\" says the devil, making ready to go.\n\n\"You may wait till he's dead,\" cries the woman of the house. \"He made\nyou no offer of his bones and his flesh.\"\n\n\"The tongues of three women would argue the devil to death,\" says he,\nand away with him in a grey puff of smoke. The man and woman of the\nhouse began for to pray. But says Bride to the servant:\n\n\"Let you slip off to Shan Alec and bid him come up--for it's maybe\nan honourable reception is waiting him here.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE TILLAGE IN THE FORT\n\n\nThere was a man in these parts, and he thought it hard to see a square\ninch of ground go to loss. He had a small wee farm on the top of a\nwindy hill, and there was a fort on the sweetest of the fields. He\ncouldn't pass by but he'd think of how much potatoes might be grown\nwithin in the circle. Well with the dint of consideration didn't he\nfinally decide for to plant it.\n\nHe never let on to his wife, but away out with the loy, and he made\ngreat work before the fall of night. When he came in he carried a\nlengthy thorn root in his hand.\n\n\"What are you holding?\" asks herself.\n\n\"An old thorn I hoked out of the ground,\" says he. \"I brought it in\nfor the fire.\"\n\n\"Is it making gaps in the quick hedges you are?\" she asks.\n\n\"Not at all,\" says he. \"I have the circle beyond rooted up for to\nset potatoes in it.\"\n\n\"Is it the fort!\" says she.\n\nWhen she heard what he was after doing she began for to roar and\nto cry.\n\n\"It is destroyed we are in this ill hour,\" she lamented. \"The Good\nPeople will be following us surely with the black wrath of vengeance\nand spite. Never before did I hear of a man setting spuds in a fort.\"\n\n\"Quit raving,\" says he.\n\n\"Many and many's the time I have seen them, they riding down by the\nhill; their fiddles and fifes I have heard, their shouts and their\nlaughs. But I had no cause for a dread till it come on me now,\"\nshe replies.\n\nWith that herself took the thorn from the fire, where he was after\ncasting it down; she left it out on the door of the house.\n\n\"Let their branch stop beyond on the street,\" says she, \"the way they\nwill not be entering here and they seeking for to bring it away.\"\n\nIn the black darkness of midnight there came the awfullest cry on the\nstreet, on past the house and into the byre. Then a great lamentation\ncame from the cows and the ass.\n\n\"The creatures are a killing this night,\" says herself.\n\nThe man rose out of his bed and he kindled a light. He had the heart\nto go out to the beasts to see what ailed them at all. There was no\nloss on the cows nor the ass, and the cry and the shouting were gone.\n\nHe went back to the house, but not a long was he in before the very\nsame trouble rose in the byre. Out with him again to make sure what\nwas wrong, and he found not a single heth astray.\n\nHe was back in his bed when a third cry passed on the wind. The ass\nlet a roar was more nor horrid lonesome, and the cows were stamping\nand roaring with dread. All the while there was nothing in it when\nthe master went out.\n\nThere was no sound more until hard on the break of day. A laugh\nthat was hateful to hear passed the house, and a hand struck hard on\nthe window.\n\nHimself rose early, and he opened the door. What did he see only\nthe ass lying dead on the street, and the two cows were destroyed in\nthe byre.\n\n\"'Twas the fairies, surely,\" says he. \"And they brought this\ndestruction upon me for hoking a hole in their farm.\"\n\n\"It's a powerful great price they're after charging you for the hire\nof a small piece of ground,\" says herself, coming out. \"But the thorn\nstick is gone off the street where I threw it last night, and if that\nhad remained in the house they'd have murdered ourselves.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE NEW DECK OF CARDS\n\n\nOf all the contrivances of the art and learning of man there is none\nmore curious nor cards. They have a connection with beings are not\nright things at all, and it is well known that an Evil Angel can\nhouse himself for a while in a new deck of cards.\n\nThere was a young lad called Terry the Luck, and he a great warrant\nfor gaining all games of skill and of chance. He was that strongly\nrenowned the roulette men would warn him away from their boards in a\nfair, and the thimble trick man fled clean from the street when he\ncome; the gosoons were in dread to toss pence with himself for the\ncoin fell head or tail as he called.\n\nNow it happened one night that Terry the Luck was on his way home\nfrom the sports, and he carried a new deck of cards in his hand. He\nwas in the best of humour for he was after winning a powerful bet on\na race. Part of the gain was snug in his pocket, and the remainder\nhad paid for the drink of his friends and himself.\n\nThe road to his home was lonely, for he lived in a backward\ntownland. The river passed within sight of his door, and it spanned\nby a bridge was four arches long.\n\nWhen Terry the Luck set his foot on the bridge didn't he wheel away\nround and start in the wrong direction.\n\n\"That's a strange thing,\" says he. \"Sure my legs were right steady\ntill now.\"\n\nWith that he went at it again, but he couldn't succeed for to cross. He\nwent back about twenty yards and took a run at it--that was no use\neither. Well any person that seen his antics that night would have\ndied of the laughter. Back he'd go and race up to the bridge for\nall he was worth, but whenever his foot came upon it he'd turn like\na leaf on the wind and away to where he started from. What was more\nnor horrid vexatious for the poor fellow was to see the light shining\nin his own kitchen window beyond, and he not fit to get home.\n\n\"'Tis enchanted I am,\" says he.\n\nAt long last he thought of the new deck of cards, and he laid them\ndown by the roadside before he made another attempt to go home. He\npassed the bridge without the least hindrance, but when he went into\nthe house he began to consider it was all a foolishness only.\n\n\"What use is there in laying out money for cards, and throwing them\nthere to be rotting with damp?\" says he.\n\nBack he went across the river to fetch the new deck of cards. But if\nhe was to strive till he died of exhaustion he couldn't get over the\nbridge and they in his hand.\n\n\"I'll lay them in under a stone until dawn,\" says he. \"Maybe whatever\nis in them will quit before then.\"\n\nSo he settled his cards in a safe hiding hole, and away with him to\nhis bed.\n\nHe rose with the early dawn for to bring out the deck. But there\nwasn't a heth to be found where he stowed it away--and the earth by\nthe stone was all burnt into ash.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE LIFTING OF A CHILD\n\n\nThere was a woman, a short while since, and she lived on a snug little\nfarm convenient to the lough. She went to the byre for to milk, of\na May morning, and no person stopped in the house only a young child\nin the cradle.\n\nNot a long was herself without, maybe the half of an hour, and when\nshe came in there was no appearance of any disorder or strife in the\nkitchen. But the poor wee child lay cold and dead in the cradle. The\nmother began for to roar and lament, and her heart was feeble with\ndread.\n\nThere came a knock on the door, and a neighbouring man lifted the latch\nand walked in. He never let on to observe the woeful countenance of\nherself, but he says, in a hearty voice:\n\n\"Will you tell me how is the child?\"\n\n\"He is after dying on us,\" she answers. \"And he right well this\nhour past.\"\n\nThe man went over to the cradle, and he lepped three foot off the\nfloor when he seen the wee corpse lying there.\n\n\"It's the strangest thing at all,\" she laments. \"And what'll I be\nsaying to himself when he lands in from his work.\"\n\n\"Let you be telling him,\" says the man, \"that the little fellow is\nin my house this day.\"\n\n\"'Tis queer advice you are speaking to be bidding me utter the like\nof yon lie, forenenst the innocent corpse,\" says herself.\n\n\"Not a lie in the world, mam,\" he answers. \"Sure I am just after\nleaving your child by my own kitchen fire, and he wrapped up in\na shawl.\"\n\nWith that she took a hold of the pot stick for to run him from the\nplace--she was odious vexed to think he'd make mock of her sore\nlamentations.\n\n\"Ar'n't you the ungrateful besom,\" says he, \"to go destroying a decent\nneighbour with a pot stick, and he after saving your son from the\npower of the Good People?\"\n\n\"Let you tell a straight story, or quit off from here,\" she\nanswers. \"For I am heart scalded listening to your old nonsense\nand lies.\"\n\n\"'Tis striving I was not to give you your death of a scare,\" says\nhe. \"But the strangest thing is after coming to pass in this house. Let\nyou sit down and have good courage, the way I'll be telling you a\nrejoiceful news.\"\n\nWith that herself brought him over a chair, dusting it clean on\nher apron, then she pulled up the creepy and sat down to attend to\nhis words.\n\n\"Did you hear any noise of disturbance,\" says he, \"wherever you were?\"\n\n\"I did not,\" she answers. \"And not a far was I from this place at\nall. I went to the byre for to milk; and no noise was in it only the\ncow breathing and the splash of the milk in the can.\"\n\n\"That's more nor horrid strange,\" says he. \"For I was passing down\nby the lough and I heard a powerful commotion up here. There was\nlaughter and cheering, the tramp of men's boots on the street,\nand horses galloping by. Thinks I to myself, 'The fairies are out\ncontriving some old villainy this morning of May.' What did I do\nonly walk up among them, and I seen no person at all. When I came\nto the house the poor wee child was a handing out on the window,\nbut I could not behold the fairies were at the lifting.\n\n\"Well I'd have you to know I'm a brave and venturesome man, with a\nheart as strong as an eagle! What did I do only make my way in among\nthe whole throng of Good People, and I standing on their feet, and\npushing them off to the wall to make space for myself. I took a hold\nof the child for to pull him from the invisible hands were lifting him\nout, and, as sure as I'm sitting here, I brought him safe from the lot.\n\n\"There went a whole roar of annoyance from the fairies, and they\nmounted up on their horses and away. But I brought the little fellow\nto my own house for fear they'd return for him to this place.\"\n\nThe poor mother was wild with delight to hear tell the son was alive.\n\n\"Let's be going to fetch him,\" says she. \"And he'll never be left in\nthe house by his lone from this out.\"\n\nThe two went down to the neighbour's house, and sure enough the child\nwas in it asleep by the fire.\n\nThe man had to carry him home, for herself was exhausted with fright.\n\n\"Maybe the Good People are gone up to remove what they left in the\ncradle,\" says she.\n\nBut when they went into the kitchen wasn't the old corpse in it yet.\n\n\"We be to bury yon article,\" says herself. But the man allowed there\nwas no need to be treating the like the same as a right thing.\n\n\"Throw it in on the back of the fire,\" says he.\n\nHerself was in dread to lay her hand on the likeness of the child. So\nthe man lifted it out of the cradle and threw it down on the fire. And\nit blazed away up the chimney for a second's time and departed in a\npuff of smoke.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE VOICE AT THE DOOR\n\n\nThere was one time a poor widow woman he name of Cathleen the Hollow,\nfor her house was down in a dip of the ground. She had two fine\nbeautiful sons, Shan the Hollow and Hughie Cathleen. Shan was a\ndancer could step on a plate and not put a break in the delf; and\nHughie could sing every ballad and song was ever heard tell of at all.\n\nThey were wild daring lads, too, the way there was great talk of them\nin the countryside. And the lamentations of the youth of the world\nwere more nor a fright when news came round to the neighbours that\nHughie was dead.\n\nHe lay down of a Friday night, and he in the best of health, on\nthe Saturday morning the brother went to rouse him, and found him\nperished dead.\n\nWell there was a most elegant wake, not a one in those parts but paid\nrespect to the corpse. And there wasn't the least suspicion but that\nHughie come by his death of some natural cause.\n\nIt was maybe a fortnight after the burying that the sleep quit Shan\nthe Hollow entirely. If evenly he began for to doze in his bed he'd\nbe roused up again by a rap on the door--but when he stepped out\nthere was no person visible there.\n\n\"Oh mother,\" says he, \"I'm thinking poor Hughie is walking the world.\"\n\n\"He is not,\" says she. \"For he was a decent lad would find peace\nin the grave. But there is some person making free with this house,\nfor not a day goes by but I miss some article of food.\"\n\nShan let it be, but his mind was uneasy for Hugh. And not a long after\nhe heard a voice go past in the night, and it singing a beautiful\nsong. He rose and he went to the door.\n\n\"Oh Hughie,\" says he, \"is that your spirit travelling the earth?\"\n\n\"It's myself is walking the world, and I not buried at all,\" says\nthe voice. \"The Good People have me away, and the corpse was an old\nimage cut from bog stick that they left in my bed to deceive you.\"\n\n\"Then it's yourself is using the food from this house, my poor\nboy?\" says Shan.\n\n\"Aye, indeed,\" says the voice, \"and sometimes it's little I find. It\ndoes be hard on me to refuse the noble refreshment the fairies set out,\nbut if I'd eat of the like I could never escape from their power. Do\nyou tell herself to leave me a mug of sweet milk and a morsel of\nbread on the sill of the window, to keep me from hungering more.\"\n\n\"You'll have the best in the house left ready against you come,\"\nsays Shan. \"But will you tell me what way am I to contrive a rescue?\"\n\n\"It's easy enough,\" says the voice. \"But I'm diverting myself with\nthe fairies, and I'll not be coming home for a while. They took me\nout oversea to America and showed me the wonders are there. Sure\nmaybe it's in France I'll be at the dawning of day!\"\n\n\"I'd liefer sit by our own fireside than travel the realms of the\nworld with their like,\" says Shan. \"Let you give them the slip and\ncome home.\"\n\n\"I seen the King's daughter of Spain, and a Queen of the East,\" says\nthe voice. \"For let me be telling you there's few like myself with\nthe fairies, the way they are showing me great respect.\"\n\nShan gets vexed at the words and he says: \"Is it boasting forenenst\nyour own brother you are? Sure we come of a poor stock of people,\nand I have heard tell there are lords of the fairies.\"\n\n\"It's my singing has them crazed about me,\" says the voice, \"for they\nhave right understanding for music and songs.\"\n\n\"Is there any man or woman of these parts excepting yourself abroad\nwith them now?\" asks Shan.\n\n\"Not a one at this present. But at dark to-morrow we are going for\nto lift young Cassidy's wife.\"\n\nWell Shan kept inquiring of Hughie when would he like to come home. At\nlong last the lad gave out he'd be ready in three weeks from that hour.\n\n\"Let you come to the fort,\" says he, \"and meet the whole host of the\nfairies. We'll give them the slip at the gap.\" With that the voice\nwent away off the street, singing till the sound dwined out in the\ndistance. But my poor Shan was that put about he couldn't decide what\nto do. At the dawn of the morning he set off to visit the Priest, and\nhe informed him every word he was after hearing. Well his Reverence\ncouldn't believe there was anything in it only a dream of the night.\n\n\"Let your Reverence go to the Cassidy's and keep herself from their\nhands,\" says Shan. \"For the Good People are determined to lift\nher away.\"\n\n\"Go home now and attend to your farm,\" says the Priest. \"'Tis the\nraving of grief is on you for the brother you lost.\"\n\nStill and all his Reverence set out for Cassidy's that evening to\nsee was anything wrong. Didn't he find the Good People before him\nand they had herself brought away. \"Oh if only I had come in time,\"\nsays he. \"But I might be some hindrance to them yet.\"\n\nWith that he went down to the hollow, and Shan was sitting within in\nthe house. Says the Priest: \"Let you not stir from this for the calling\nof voices that pass. You are after informing me of an intention you\nhave for to rescue your brother on a set and certain night. Now give\nme your promise to make no attempt of the sort--for it's into the power\nof the fallen angels you'd go, and you'd not get him rescued at all.\"\n\n\"I be to make an offer anyway,\" says Shan.\n\n\"Very well,\" says the Priest. \"I'll send four strong men of this\nparish to rope you down in your bed on that ill night.\"\n\nDidn't they hold my poor Shan from his offer to bring home the brother,\nand surely it was well done for his own destruction was in it. But the\nvoice came no more to the window and the bread lay uncut on the sill.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE EARL'S SON OF THE SEA\n\n\nWhen the Good People fell from the Heavens above, didn't some of them\nsink in the sea, and there they are dwelling this day.\n\nMany and many a story is told of their diversions and how they be\nwrecking the ships; but the strangest account I ever heard tell was\nthe fisherman's daughter that met the Earl's son of the sea.\n\nShe was travelling the sands by her lone, on the west coast of Ireland,\nand when she came near to the rocks she heard the notes of a harp. Of\ncourse she was curious to know who was out playing in that place and\nno dwelling near; so over she went towards the sound, and what did\nshe come on only a beautiful yellow-haired man.\n\n\"It's destroyed in a short space you'll be,\" she calls out, \"for the\ntide is beginning to rise and you'll be dashed dead on the rocks.\"\n\n\"Do you know who I am?\" says he.\n\n\"I do not,\" she answers. \"But you're surely a stranger to these parts\nor you wouldn't sit there with the waves beginning to rise.\"\n\n\"Maybe I travelled this bay before you were born,\" says he.\n\nWith that she let a laugh out of her.\n\n\"I'm thinking the two of us are about the one age,\" says she. \"So\nquit your old-fashioned talk and come on out of that till I show you\nthe way up the cliff.\"\n\n\"You're a beautiful girl,\" says the stranger, \"and the wish is on me\nto please you. Climb up out of reach of the rising sea and I'll play\nyou a tune on the harp.\"\n\nWell she travelled back over the sand and up by the path to the cliff,\nnever doubting but the stranger was following on. But when she looked\ndown she seen him below on the rock.\n\n\"It is drownded you'll be,\" she calls out.\n\n\"Let you not be uneasy,\" says he.\n\nWith that he began for to play on the harp, and the music enchanted\nthe fisherman's child and the tears ran down from her eyes. When she\nlooked again to the rock wasn't the stranger washed from it and a\nbig white wave curled up from the place.\n\n\"I'm after finding and losing a beautiful boy,\" says she, and she\nwent away home lamenting his death.\n\nNot a long after she was travelling the sands, and she heard the music\nagain. There was himself sitting up on the rock as sound as a salmon\nat play.\n\n\"I doubt you're no right thing,\" says she.\n\n\"Maybe not,\" he allows. \"But I'll rise your heart with a tune--if\nit was crying I had you the last time it's laughing I'll see you\nthis day.\"\n\nWith that he played the cleverest dancing tune on the harp, and he\nhad the fisherman's daughter in the best of humour.\n\nAfter a while he says, \"I'm thinking you have a poor way of living\nin your home, for it's hard set to earn a bit and a sup that the\nfishermen are in this place.\"\n\n\"We're miserable, surely,\" she answers.\n\n\"I'll be making you a great advancement,\" says he. \"For I'd have\nyou to know that there's plenty of wealth in my power. Let you quit\nfrom your own friends and marry myself. It's a beautiful castle I'll\nbuild you, out on a rock in the ocean, and jewels and pearls for your\nportion to wear.\"\n\n\"A lonesome life,\" says she, \"to be watching the wild birds fly over\nthe waves, and maybe a ship passing by. Moreover you are no right\nthing, evenly if you have the appearance of a beautiful gentleman. It's\na poor man of these parts will join the world with myself.\"\n\n\"Sure I'm an Earl's son of the sea,\" he allows.\n\nBut the grandeur didn't tempt her at all.\n\n\"A sea marriage would be no marriage,\" she answers, and with that\nshe bid him good-day.\n\n\"Let your man never travel the sea,\" he answers, \"for I'll destroy\nthe ship from under his feet and leave him dead on a wave.\"\n\nHe lepped down into the water and away with him from out of her sight.\n\nThe fisherman's daughter never heard him out harping again, nor\nseen a sight of his face. And after a while she forgot the queer lad\nentirely. Didn't she marry a farmer inland, and it was a comfortable\nlife they enjoyed.\n\nBut a notion took himself that he'd prosper more in the States, for he\nwas greedy for gold. He took passage for the two on a great big ship,\nand away with them from Ireland.\n\nNot a long were they at sea before a sudden furl blast met the ship,\nand a wave twenty times as high as a house stood up over the deck and\nbroke down. Every person was killed dead and smashed into the wood\nof the ship only the fisherman's daughter. She felt the vessel sink\ndown from under her and she looked up and seen a beautiful castle\nrise up on a rock on the sea.\n\nThe Earl's son came past on a wave and he lifted her up by the hair\nof her head for to land her out on the rock.\n\nThe fisherman's daughter lived in that place for fourteen years\nand she lamenting the lonesome hours of each day. She seen the wild\ngulls flying and whales and every sort sailing the waves. She took\nno delight in the jewels nor the dresses were stored in that house,\nand the Earl's son of the sea allowed she grew ugly and old.\n\nIt happened one day he was travelling in other parts that herself\nseen a ship coming down, and she waved a white flag out the window.\n\nA man came out from the ship in a small little boat, and who was it\nonly her own brother Michael.\n\n\"Oh sister dear,\" says he, \"is it sitting on a rock you are for\nfourteen weary years? Sure we heard tell of the loss of the vessel\nwas bringing you out to the States.\"\n\n\"It's a fine castle is here,\" says she. \"But it's lonesome I am for\nmy home.\"\n\n\"I see no more nor a rock and it green with the weed of the sea,\"\nsays Michael. \"It's on your eyes that there's more in it, for I see\nnothing at all.\"\n\nWith that she told him the whole story. And he was in dread for to\nbring her away lest the Earl's son might destroy them.\n\n\"I'll tell you what I'll do,\" says he. \"It's back to Ireland I'll\nsail, and I'll get an image made the down likeness of yourself. When\nwe set that up on the rock himself will believe you are in it, and\nwe may get away.\"\n\nSo he rowed his wee boat to the ship and home he sailed to Ireland. He\ngot the finest image made, and it the dead spit of herself. With that\nin his keeping he travelled the sea till he came to the rock and his\nsister still sat there lamenting. But she had a red flag hung out\nand that was the sign they'd agreed for him not to come near. So he\nbe to wait until she put up a white one, and then he knew that the\nEarl's son was not near.\n\nHe got her safe to the boat, and they left the old image stuck up on\nthe rock.\n\n\"There's two little fellows like sea-monkeys he's left to watch when\nhe's gone,\" says herself. \"But they didn't see me slip out and they'll\nnever think but the statue is me. I haven't the least fear of them\nbringing him word there is anything wrong, but if he returns we are\nlost for he won't be that easy deceived.\"\n\nThey made great sailing to Ireland, and the ship was coming in on\nthe harbour the way they were sure they'd come safe. What did they\nsee only the Earl's son and he riding on a big white wave to catch up\nto them. The image was with him, and he threw it after the ship the\nway a hole was cleft in her side and she sank. But the fisherman's\ndaughter, her brother, and the sailors got on shore in a boat before\nhe came at them again.\n\nThey seen him from the shore, and he flittering something with his\ntwo hands. What was it only the sea-monkeys, and he threw the bits\nof them up on the shore. He came in himself, but they pelted him from\nit with stones for his power was lost on the land.\n\nBut not a one of that family to this present day may venture into the\nwaves, for the Earl's son watches out to destroy them for vengeance\nand spite.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nTHE GIRL AND THE FAIRIES\n\n\nThere was a beautiful young girl living in these parts, and she was\ngreatly admired by every person that seen her.\n\nIt happened when she was about nineteen years of age that she fainted\none day on the street before the house, where she was washing the\nspuds for dinner. The mother and sister went out for to carry her in,\nand they laid her down on the bed--the poor girl never rose from it\nmore. Maybe a week she was lingering dying, not a word ever came from\nher lips and she used no food at all.\n\nNot a long after the burying her mother heard a rapping on the window,\nclose upon midnight. She rose and she says, \"Oh Bridget dear, is\nit you?\"\n\n\"It is indeed, mamma,\" says a voice. \"Let you give me a drink of\nsweet milk and a small taste of bread.\"\n\n\"I've heard tell of the dead were uneasy, but never of one needing\nfood,\" says the mother.\n\n\"The fairies have me away,\" answers Bridget. \"'Tis myself is living\nthis day, and you are after giving decent burial to an old thing they\nleft in my place.\"\n\nWith that the poor mother brought milk and bread to the window and\nhanded it out.\n\n\"Will you ever contrive to get home, my poor Bridget?\" says she.\n\n\"Aye surely,\" answers the girl, \"if the men of this place are worthy\ntheir keep. Let you make inquiries among them until you find two\nstrong daring boys are willing to attempt my rescue.\"\n\nShe went away off the street, and the mother went back to her bed.\n\nThe next evening there were some of the neighbours came in, and herself\ngave out all she was after hearing. There were two clever lads in it\nand they promised for to bring the girl snug and safe to her home.\n\nNot a long after Bridget came back to the window to speak with the\nmother, so when she heard of the offer was made she says: \"The Good\nPeople are going away over the moor on Wednesday night and I must\njourney with them. It is mounted on horses we'll be, and tell the\ntwo lads I told them to stand by the gap and watch for the squad\ngoing through. I'll be upon the third grey horse to go by, and let\nthe two lads take a hold of me, one at each side. Now if they're\nnot full sure they'll have courage and daring to hold their hold,\nlet them not come near me at all. For if I pass on with the fairies\nthey'll kill me dead for vengeance that night.\"\n\nThe mother promised she'd give the lads great warning to keep their\nhold and do all as Bridget was saying.\n\nWell on the Wednesday night the venturesome lads went down to the gap\nof the fort field, and there they stood waiting one at each side of\nthe pass. Not a long were they in it before the Good People began to\ngo through. One grey horse went down beside another and a third came\nbehind with Bridget sitting upon his back.\n\nThe two lads caught a hold of her, but didn't the horse let a stag\nlep and they lost their grip on the girl. She gave the lonesomest cry\nas she was carried from them, and the fairies began for to cheer and\nto laugh.\n\n\"We'll follow the Good People on,\" says one of the boys, \"and maybe\nwe'll vanquish them yet.\"\n\nSo the two travelled after the riders, away towards the moor. The\nriver flows convenient to that place, and a fine bridge spans it\nacross. It was there that the awfullest cry rose out of the throng\nof the fairies, and when the boys came on to the bridge they seen it\nall red with my poor Bridget's blood. The horsemen were after dashing\nher down on the stones to her death.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nGOOD-NIGHT, MY BRAVE MICHAEL\n\n\nThere was a big gathering of neighbours sitting round a fire, telling\nstories of an evening, and some person says:\n\n\"There's the strongest bolt and lock in all Ireland on the door there\nbeyond, and it couldn't be broken at all.\"\n\nWith that the Good People were listening outside began for to\nlaugh. Didn't they whip the lock off the door and away with them\nthrough the fields.\n\nSays the man of the house: \"I'm thinking there's danger abroad;\nlet the lot of you stop here till dawn.\"\n\nBut there was a big, venturesome man in it and he allowed he'd go\nhome no spite of the fairies.\n\nHe started off by his lone, and he had a wet sort of field to pass\nthrough with a great shaking scraw to one side. It was an awful and\ndangerous place to any person not used to the like, but he knew his\nway by the pass.\n\nHe was travelling at a good speed when all on a sudden he heard the\ntramping of a score of horses behind him. Then they came up round\nhimself, but he seen no person at all nor a sign of a horse or an ass.\n\n\"The fairies are in it,\" says he.\n\nWith that one of them took a hold of him by the collar and turned\nhim round on the path.\n\n\"Good-night, my brave Michael,\" says the horsemen.\n\nThen another of them took him by the shoulder and faced him away\nround again.\n\n\"Good-night, my brave Michael,\" says he. Well the whole score of\nfairies kept turning him round until he seen the stars dropping\ndown from the sky and his ears were deafened with a sound like\nthe sea. And every one that took him by the shoulder would say:\n\"Good-night, my brave Michael, good-night!\"\n\nThe poor fellow didn't know what in under the shining Heaven was he\nto do. He seen they were setting him astray, but he couldn't continue\nfor to keep on the path, and he was in odious dread they'd furl him\ninto the shaking scraw where he'd sink from the sight of man.\n\nA sudden thought struck his mind of a saying he heard from his ma. He\nwhipped the coat off his back and he put it on with the wrong side\nturned out. And then he found he was standing alone in the field,\non the edge of the scraw, and no person near him at all. So he went\naway home without any mishap, but indeed he was trembling with dread.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE LAD AND THE OLD LASSIE'S SONG\n\n\nThere was a young lad living in these parts, not long since at all,\nand his name was Francis John.\n\nIt chanced of a May morning that water was scarce for the tea, the way\nhis mother put a bucket in his hand and hunted him off to the spring.\n\nNow an old lassie lived by her lone in a little wee house was built\nright close to the path. The door stood open that morning, and my\nbrave Francis John looked in when he went on his way to the well. He\nseen the old girl sitting on a small creepy stool by the fire, with\na row of clay images baking in front of the turf. Wasn't she singing\na song--and a queer cracked voice was her own--every word of it came\ngood and plain to the ears of the lad.\n\n\n    Ye that I bake before the fire,\n    Bring me the milk from my neighbour's byre;\n    Gather the butter from off the churn\n    And set it forenenst me before you burn.\n\n\nFrancis John didn't ask to disturb her diversions at all, so he went\non his way and filled up his can at the spring. But all the road home\nthe old lassie's song tormented his mind, and as he came in at the\ndoor he began for to sing:\n\n\n    Ye that she bakes before the fire,\n    Bring me the milk from the neighbour's byre;\n    Gather the butter from off the churn\n    And set it forenenst me before you burn.\n\n\nWith the power of the words coming from him didn't the boots on his\nfeet fill up with sweet milk, and it running out on the lace holes.\n\n\"Man, but that's an enchanted song,\" says he. And what did he do only\nstep into four pounds of butter that fell on the threshold before him,\nfor he never remarked it at all!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nTHE BASKET OF EGGS\n\n\nThere was a woman one time, and she on her way to the market, counting\nthe price of her basket of eggs.\n\n\"If eggs are up,\" says she, \"I'll be gaining a handful of silver,\nand evenly if prices be down I'll not do too badly at all for I have\na weighty supply.\"\n\nWith that she remarked a little wee boy sitting down by the hedge,\nhe stitching away at a brogue.\n\n\"If I had a hold of yon lad,\" says she, \"I'd make him discover a\ntreasure--for the like of him knows where gold does be hid.\"\n\nShe juked up behind him, like a cat would be after a bird, and she\ncaught a strong grip of his neck.\n\nWell he let an odious screech out of him, for he was horrid surprised.\n\n\"I have you, my gosoon,\" says she.\n\n\"Oh surely you have, mam,\" he answers. \"The strength of your thumb\nis destroying my thrapple this day.\"\n\n\"Will you show me a treasure?\" says she.\n\n\"I'd have you to know,\" he replies, \"that the pot of gold I could\nconvey you in sight of is guarded by the appearance of a very strange\nfrog.\"\n\n\"What do I care for the creeping beasts of the world,\" says she. \"Worse\nnor a frog wouldn't scare me at all.\"\n\n\"You're a terrible fine woman, mistress dear,\" says the\nleprachaun. \"I've travelled a power of the earth and I never came in\nwith your equal.\"\n\n\"Go on with your old-fashioned chat,\" she replies, but she was middling\nwell pleased all the same.\n\n\"I'm a small little fellow,\" says he, \"and I couldn't keep up with\nyourself. But it's light in the body I am, the way I'd be never a\nburden at all and I sitting up on the handle of the basket.\"\n\n\"Up with you,\" she answers, \"for I'll soon put you down to walk by\nmy side if you are not speaking the truth.\"\n\nBut she didn't find the least burden more on the basket when himself\nwas on the handle.\n\nHe was a great warrant to flatter, and he had her in humour that day\nall the while he was watching out for a chance to escape, but she\nkept a hold of his ear.\n\nWhat did he do only put his two wee hands down into the basket and\nhe began for to bail out the eggs. She fetched him a terrible clout,\nbut the harder she beat him the faster he threw out the eggs.\n\n\"Oh mam! oh mam!\" says he, \"what for are you skelping my head?\"\n\n\"To make you quit breaking my eggs, you unmannerly coley,\" says she.\n\n\"Sure it's doing you favour I am,\" he replies. \"I'd have you to\nknow when I spill an egg on the ground a well-grown spring chicken\nleps out.\"\n\n\"Quit raving,\" says she.\n\n\"If you doubt my word,\" he makes answer, \"let you turn and look back\nat the chickens are flocking along.\"\n\nWith that she turned her head, and the leprachaun slipped from her\ngrasp. He made one spring from the basket into the hedge, and he\nvanished away from the place.\n\n\"The wee lad has fooled me entirely,\" says she, \"and my beautiful\neggs are destroyed--but I am the finest woman he's seen, and that is\na good thing to know!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nTHE BROKEN BRANCH\n\n\nThere was a man in the olden time, and he owned a snug little farm.\n\nWhat did he do, of a winter's day, only break a great branch off a\nlone bush for to burn in the fire. A thorn went into his hand and it\npierced it through.\n\n\"That was a sore jag,\" says he.\n\nBut there was a little grey woman sitting in under the lone bush,\nand she let a terrible laugh.\n\nThere were two of the neighbours seen what occurred, and they passing\ndown through the field. One of them ran away home, but the other,\na venturesome lad, came across.\n\n\"What are you after doing, my poor fellow?\" says he.\n\n\"I am after destroying my hand with a thorn,\" says the man.\n\nThe neighbour allowed there was worse in it nor that.\n\n\"Did you hear the grey woman laugh?\" he inquires.\n\n\"There is no woman here,\" says the other.\n\n\"I seen her a while past, and I coming down to your side. She was\nsitting in under the bush, but now she is gone. When you drove the\nthorn through your hand she let a lamentable laugh that was worse\nnor a cry.\"\n\nThe man didn't believe it at all. But the jag in his hand festered\nup and he died for breaking the branch of the thorn.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nDIGGING FOR GOLD\n\n\nIn the ancient times a poor decent labouring man dreamt three nights\nof finding a kist was hid in the fort near his home.\n\nSo away there he went for to dig, and not long was he working at all\nwhen he came on the beautiful gold.\n\n\"In troth I am rich from this out,\" he calls at the height of his\nvoice.\n\nWith that the whole treasure fell down through the earth: he should\nnot have spoken at all. Then there came a powerful great cat, and it\nwas the guard of the kist. Now the man had the wit to take hold of\nthe appearance before him, and let it strive never so hard it could\nnot contrive to escape. \"I'll hold you,\" says he, \"till you tell me\nwhere is the gold!\"\n\n\"Dig at the far side,\" says a voice. But whether it came from the\ncat was past the man's wit for to know.\n\nWell he went over and began for to dig at the far side, and he came\non a big copper pot. But no gold was in it at all.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nSTORY OF A CHURN\n\n\nThere was a woman renowned for making the best of good butter.\n\nNow it chanced in the spring that her man had three boys hired for\nto work at the setting of spuds. One morning they passed through the\nhouse when the churn was a making, and not one put his hand to the\nwork nor uttered a blessing upon it.\n\nHerself was horrid annoyed to think they'd be that unseemly and\nignorant, yet she passed no remark of the sort. Didn't her whole\nmorning's work go to loss for no yield come on the churn.\n\nShe was not very great with her neighbours, and the first time she\nchanced for to speak of what happened that day was next time she seen\nher own mother.\n\nThe old woman says: \"If you have one of them three lads impeached for\ntaking the yield from the churn, let you write his name backwards on\na small slip of paper and burn it in a shovel over the fire.\"\n\n\"What good'll that be?\" asks the daughter.\n\n\"It will be the means of restoring the butter was lifted away,\"\nsays the mother.\n\n\"I doubt not--and it two months and more since the loss,\" says the\nyoung woman.\n\nBut she brought out the paper and ink for to write down the name of\nthe lad she impeached. She set it down backwards and burnt it over\nthe fire.\n\n\"Now,\" says the mother, \"go out to the churn.\"\n\nWhat did she find only five pounds of butter sitting within on the\ndry wood!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nTHE GANKEYNOGUE IN THE OAK CHEST\n\n\nThere was once a man of these parts and he had a great longing for\nto find a treasure.\n\nIt chanced one evening that he seen a gankeynogue in the field,\nsitting in under a bush, and he says:\n\n\"Yon lad will surely be worth a powerful weight of gold.\"\n\nWith that he went over and caught a hold of the gankey.\n\n\"Let you discover a treasure,\" says he, \"or else I'll keep you like\na dog on a chain from this out.\"\n\n\"Keep away!\" says the gankey. \"How would a poor creature like myself\nbe finding treasure for a strong farmer!\"\n\n\"Let you not let on to be miserable,\" says the man, \"for well I know\nit's great wealth you enjoy.\"\n\n\"Is it me!\" says the gankeynogue. \"Sure I support a lengthy family\nentirely by my own industry.\"\n\nBut the farmer would not believe a word of the sort. He carried the\ngankey to his house and put him into a big oak chest.\n\n\"You'll never get out except for to show me where treasure is lodged,\"\nhe allows.\n\nBut the gankeynogue wasn't in notion of giving the least\ninformation. He sat up in the oak chest, hammering, shouting and\nsinging until he had the people's heads light.\n\nAll the while the farmer was determined to get the better of him and\nhe never agreed to let him go.\n\nThe lad was his tenth day in the chest when the man of the house came\nrunning in that evening, shouting at the top of his voice:\n\n\"Darragh fort's on fire! Darragh fort's on fire!\"\n\nWith that the gankey began the most woeful lamentations, and he\nhammering like mad to get out of the chest.\n\n\"What ails you at all?\" asks the farmer.\n\n\"My wife and family are in that place,\" says the gankey. \"Let me away\nto bring them safe from the fire.\"\n\n\"Will you show me a treasure?\" asks the man. \"Aye surely!\" says the\ngankeynogue. \"But let's go first to Darragh fort to save my weak\nfamily, and then I'll bestow the treasure.\"\n\nSo the two started off for Darragh fort, and it not on fire at\nall--that was a story the man was after inventing for to scare the\ngankeynogue.\n\nWhen they landed in sight of the place the man allowed the fire be\nto have burnt out. Didn't the gankey make a run and lep in among\nthe trees.\n\n\"I'm safe from you now,\" says he.\n\nBut the man never let on to be vexed that he couldn't see the lad any\nmore, he listened to his voice speaking for to know the direction\nhe went. Then he lay down in that part of the fort and let on to\nbe asleep.\n\nAfter a while he heard the gankeynogue telling his wife about how he\nwas kept in the chest.\n\n\"I was ten days in that place,\" says he. \"And I full of venom against\nthe farmer. But it's the cunning lad I am, for I never let on where\nthe treasure is buried at all.\"\n\n\"Where is it?\" asks the gankeynogue's wife.\n\n\"Under a stone in the street before his house,\" says the gankey. \"And\nherself tripped and spilled a bucket of milk just over the place this\nmorning. I was looking out on a hole in the chest, and still I never\nlet on one word when I seen what happened.\"\n\n\"You're a wise little fellow, sure enough,\" says his wife.\n\nThe farmer got up and away home with him after hearing what they\nsaid. He asked herself where she spilled the milk at the morning of\nthe day.\n\n\"By that stone,\" says she, setting her foot on a flag in the street.\n\nHe brought the loy and a crowbar for to hoke up the place, and didn't\nhe discover a beautiful treasure of gold.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nTHE MAKER OF BROGUES\n\n\nThere was a young lad travelling the road to a fair, and he passed\nconvenient to a field had a sand pit in the middle of it. What did he\nsee, sitting up in that place with his legs dangling over the edge\nof the pit, only a little wee man making brogues. The lad took one\nlep into the field and he walked up to the cobbler.\n\n\"Good-morning, mister!\" says he. \"Might I make so bold as to ask what\nwork you are doing this hour of the morning dew, and what makes you\nfancy the edge of a pit for a seat?\"\n\n\"'Tis making brogues I am,\" says the leprachaun, \"and they for the\nGood People's wear.\"\n\n\"I'm thinking you're watching a treasure,\" says the lad.\n\n\"I'm not,\" says the leprachaun. \"But I know where there's plenty hid.\"\n\n\"You be to discover it for me,\" says the lad.\n\n\"Let you wait till this one pair of brogues is made,\" says the fairy.\n\nSo the lad agreed and he sat down to watch him at work.\n\n\"Begob,\" says he, \"I never seen any person could hammer in nails such\na rate.\"\n\n\"It's a slow worker I'm counted in these parts,\" says the\nleprachaun. \"Let you look down into the pit at the man is cobbling\nbelow. I warrant it's three nails he's driving for each one of mine.\"\n\nThe lad looked over the edge.\n\n\"There is no man in it at all!\" says he.\n\nWith that the leprachaun let a laugh.\n\n\"There is not,\" says he.\n\n\"There's a sore chastisement waiting on you for deceiving me,\"\nanswers the other.\n\nBut when he stood on his feet and looked round wasn't the leprachaun\ngone.\n\n\"I'm the fool of the whole wide world,\" says the lad, and he travelled\naway to the fair.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nGLOSSARY\n\n\nA power of, a large number.\n\nBohlan, rag-weed.\n\nLoy, a sort of spade peculiar to the west and north-west of Ireland.\n\nLone bush, a hawthorn growing at a distance from all other trees. The\nlone bushes are dedicated to the fairies, and must not be cut down.\n\nCailee, a visit.\n\nJoin the world, to marry.\n\nTo allow, to declare.\n\nGankeynogue, possibly a synonym of leprachaun, used only in the\nnorthern districts. A stone barred with fossil reed is said to be\nthe Gankeynogue's pipe.\n\nFort. The forts referred to are the circular enclosures supposed to\nhave been made, in pre-Christian days, by the Tuatha de Danaan.\n\nBreffny, the counties of Cavan and Leitrim, originally part of\nConnaught, though Cavan is now in Ulster.","title":"Folk Tales of Breffny","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":24588}