THE MODERN LIBRARY
OF THE WORLD S BEST BOOKS
IRISH FAIRY and FOLK TALES
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IRISH FAIRY and
FOLK TALES
Edited By W.
B. YEATS
*
s
THE MODERN
LIBRARY
PUBLISHERS ::
:: NEW YORK
Manufactured in the United States of E
Bound for THE MODERN LIBRARY by H. Wolff
INSCEIBED
TO MY MYSTICAL FRIEND,
G. B.
914250
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
THE TROOPING FAIRIES
The Fairies
Frank Martin and the Fairies
The Priest s Supper
The Fairy Well of Lagnanay
Teig O Kane and the Corpse
Paddy Corcoran s Wife
Cusheen Loo
The White Trout; A Legend of Cong
The Fairy Thorn
The Legend of Knockgrafton
A Donegal Fairy
CHANGELINGS
The Brewery of Egg-shells .
The Fairy Nurse
Jamie Freel and the Young Lady
The. Stolen Child
THE MERROW
The Soul Cages
Flory Cantillon s Funeral
65
80
THE SOLITARY FAIRIES
The Lepracaun; or, Fairy Shoemaker 86
Master and Man . . 89
Far Darrig in Donegal . 96
The Piper and the Puca . 101
Daniel O Rourke . . 104
The Kildare Pooka . . 112
How Thomas Connolly met the Banshee 116
A Lamentation for the Death of Sir Maurice
Fitzgerald . . . 120
The Banshee of the Mac Carthys . 122
GHOSTS
A Dream
Grace Connor
A Legend of Tyrone
The Black Lamb
Song of the Ghost
The Radiant B oy
The Fate of Frank M Kenna
139
140
142
144
144
146
149
Vlll
CONTENTS
WITCHES, FAIRY DOCTORS
Bewitched Butter (Donegal)
A Queen s County Witch
The Witch Hare
Bewitched Butter (Queen s County)
The Horned Women
The Witches Excursion
The Confessions of Tom Bourke
The Pudding Bewitched
Page
158
160
164
165
176
179
182
198
TTKER-NA-N-OGE
The Legend of O Donoghue .
Rent Day
Loughleagh (Lake of Healing)
Hy-Brasail The Isle of the Blest
The Phantom Isle
215
217
220
226
228
SAINTS, PRIESTS
The Priest s Soul ....
The Priest of Coloony
The Story of the Little Bird
Conversion of King Laoghaire s Daughters
King O Toole and His Goose
230
236
237
239
240
THE DEVIL
The Demon Cat
The Long Spoon
The Countess Kathleen O Shea
The Three Wishes .
245
247
248
252
GIANTS
The Giant s Stairs .
A Legend of Knockmany
279
285
KINGS, QUEENS, PRINCESSES, EARLS, ROBBERS
The Twelve Wild Geese . . 300
The Lazy Beauty and Her Aunts . 306
The Haughty Princess . . 311
The Enchantment of Gearoidh larla 315
Munachar and Manachar . . 317
Donald and His Neighbors . 321
The Jackdaw . . . 325
The Story of Conn-eda . . 328
NOTES
343
INTRODUCTION
DR. CORBETT, Bishop of Oxford and Norwich, la
mented long ago the departure of the English fairies.
"In Queen Mary s time/ he wrote :
"When Tom came home from labor,
Or Cis to milking rose,
Then merrily, merrily went their tabor.
And merrily went their toes."
But now, in the times of James, they had all gone, for
"they were of the old profession," and "their songs were
Ave Maries." In Ireland they are still extant, giving
gifts to the kindly, and plaguing the surly. "Have you
ever seen a fairy or such like ?" I asked an old man in
County Sligo. "Amn t I annoyed with them," was the
answer. "Do the fishermen along here know anything
of the mermaids?" I asked a woman of a village in
County Dublin. "Indeed, they don t like to see them at
all," she answered, "for they always bring bad weather."
"Here is a man who believes in ghosts," said a foreign
sea-captain, pointing to a pilot of my acquaintance. "In
every house over there," said the pilot, pointing to his
native village of Eosses, "there are several." Certainly
that now old and much respected dogmatist, the Spirit
ix
x INTRODUCTION
of the Age, has in no manner made his voice heard down
there. In a little while, for he has gotten a consumptive
appearance of late, he will be covered over decently in
his grave, and another will grow, old and much re
spected, in his place, and never be heard of down there,
and after him another and another and another. In
deed, it is a question whether any of these personages
will ever be heard of outside the newspaper offices and
lecture-rooms and drawing-rooms and eelpie houses of
the cities, or if the Spirit of the Age is at any time more
than a froth. At any rate, whole troops of their like
will not change the Celt much. Giraldus Cambrensis
found the people of the western islands a trifle pagan
ish. "How many gods are there?" asked a priest, a
little while ago, of a man from the Island of Innistor.
"There is one on Innistor; but this seems a big place,"
said the man, and the priest held up his hands in horror,
as Giraldus had, just seven centuries before. Remem
ber, I am not blaming the man; it is very much better
to believe in a number of gods than in none at all, or
to think there is only one, but that he is a little senti
mental and impracticable, and not constructed for the
nineteenth century. The Celt, and his cromlechs, and
his pillar-stones, these will not change much indeed, it
is doubtful if anybody at all changes at any time. In
spite of hosts of deniers, and asserters, and wise-men,
and professors, the 1 majority still are averse to sitting
down to dine thirteen at table, or being helped to salt,
or walking under a ladder, or seeing a single magpie
flirting his chequered tail. There are, of course, chil
dren of light who have set their faces against all this,
though even a newspaper man, if you entice him into
a cemetery at midnight, will believe in phantoms, for
every one is a visionary, if you scratch him deep enough.
But the Celt is a visionary without scratching.
Yet, be it noticed, if you are a stranger, you will not
readily get ghost and fairy legends, even in a western
INTRODUCTION xi
village. You must go adroitly to work, and make friends
with the children, and the old men, with those who have
not felt the pressure of mere daylight existence, and
those with whom it is growing less, and will have alto
gether taken itself off one of these days. The old
women are most learned, but will not so readily be got
to talk, for the fairies are very secretive, and much re
sent being talked of; and are there not many stories of
old women who were nearly pinched into their graves
or numbed with fairy blasts ?
At sea, when the nets are out and the pipes are lit,
then will some ancient hoarder of tales become loqua
cious, telling his histories to the tune of the creaking
of the boats. Holy-eve night, too, is a great time, and
in old days many tales were to be heard at wakes. But
the priests have set faces against wakes.
In the Parochial Survey of Ireland it is recorded how
the story-tellers used to gather together of an evening,
and if any had a different version from the others, they
would all recite theirs and vote, and the man who had
varied would have to abide by their verdict. In this
way stories have been handed down with such accuracy,
that the long tale of Dierdre was, in the earlier decades
of this century, told almost word for word, as in the
very ancient MSS. in the Royal Dublin Society. In
one case only it varied, and then the MS. was obviously
wrong a passage had been forgotten by the copyist.
But this accuracy is rather in the folk and bardic tales
than in the fairy legends, for these vary widely, being
usually adapted to some neighboring village or local
fairy-seeing celebrity. Each county has usually some
family, or personage, supposed to have been favored or
plagued, especially by the phantoms, as the Hackets of
Castle Hacket, Galway, who had for their ancestor a
fairy, or John-o -Daly of Lisadell, Sligo, who wrote
"Eilleen Aroon, 3 the song the Scotch have stolen and
called "Robin Adair," and which Handel would sooner
xii INTRODUCTION
have written than all his oratorios,* and the "O Dona-
hue of Kerry." Bound these men stories tended to
group themselves, sometimes deserting more ancient
heroes for the purpose. Round poets have they gath
ered especially, for poetry in Ireland has always been
mysteriously connected with magic.
These folk-tales are full of simplicity and musical oc
currences, for they are the literature of a class for whom
every incident in the old rut of birth, love, pain, and
death has cropped up unchanged for centuries : who have
steeped everything in the heart: to whom everything is
a symbol. They have the spade over which man has
leaned from the beginning. The people of the cities
have the machine, which is prose and a parvenu. They
have few events. They can turn over the incidents of a
long life as they sit by the fire. With us nothing has
time to gather meaning, and too many things are occur
ring for even a big heart to hold. It is said the most
eloquent people in the world are the Arabs, who have
only the bare earth of the desert and a sky swept bare
by the sun. "Wisdom has alighted upon three things,"
goes their proverb ; "the hand of the Chinese, the brain
of the Frank, and the tongue of the Arab." This, I take
it, is the meaning of that simplicity sought for so much
in these days by all the poets, and not to be had at
any price.
The most notable and typical story-teller of my ac
quaintance is one Paddy Flynn, a little, bright-eyed, old
man, living in a leaky one-roomed cottage of the village
of B , "The most gentle i.e., fairy place in the
whole of the County Sligo," he says, though others
laim that honor for Drumahair or for Drumcliff. A
very pious old man, too ! You may have some time to
inspect his strange figure and ragged hair, if he happen
to be in a devout humor, before he comes to the doings
* He lived some time in Dublin, and heard it then.
INTRODUCTION xiii
of the gentry. A strange devotion ! Old tales of Colum-
kill, and what he said to his mother. "How are you
to-day, mother ?" "Worse !" "May you be worse to
morrow;" and on the next day, "How are you to-day,
mother?" "Worse!" "May you be worse to-morrow;"
and on the next, "How are you to-day, mother ?" "Bet
ter, thank God." "May you be better to-morrow." In
which undutiful manner he will tell you Columkill in
culcated cheerfulness. Then most likely he will wander
off into his favorite theme how the Judge smiles alike
in rewarding the good and condemning the lost to un
ceasing flames. Very consoling does it appear to Paddy
Flynn, this melancholy and apocalyptic cheerfulness of
the Judge. Nor seems his own cheerfulness quite
earthly though a very palpable cheerfulness. The first
time I saw him he was cooking mushrooms for himself ;
the next time he was asleep under a hedge, smiling in
his sleep. Assuredly some joy not quite of this steadfast
earth lightens in those eyes swift as the eyes of a rabbit
among so many wrinkles, for Paddy Flynn is very
old. A melancholy there is in the midst of their cheer
fulness a melancholy that is almost a portion of their
joy, the visionary melancholy of purely instinctive na
tures and of all animals. In the triple solitude of age
and eccentricity and partial deafness he goes about much
pestered by children.
As to the reality of his fairy and spirit-seeing powers,
not all are agreed. One day we were talking of the
Banshee. "I have seen it," he said, "down there by the
water batting the river with its hands." He it was
who said the fairies annoyed him.
Not that the Sceptic is entirely afar even from these
western villages. I found him one morning as he bound
his corn in a merest pocket-handkerchief of a field.
Very different from Paddy Flynn Scepticism in every
wrinkle of his face, and a travelled man, too ! a foot-
long Mohawk Indian tattooed on one of his arms to evi-
xiv INTRODUCTION
dence the matter. "They who travel," says a neighbor
ing priest, shaking his heaJ over him, and quoting
Thomas A Kempis, "seldom come home holy." I had*
mentioned ghosts to this Sceptic. "Ghosts," said he;
"there are no such things at all, at all, but the gentry,
they stand to reason; for the devil, when he fell out of
heaven, took the weak-minded ones with him, and they
were put into the waste places. And that s what the
gentry are. But they are getting scarce now, because
their time s over, ye see, and they re going back. But
ghosts, no ! And I ll tell ye something more I don t
believe in the fire of hell ;" then, in a low voice, "that s
only invented to give the priests and the parsons some
thing to do." Thereupon this man, so full of enlighten
ment, returned to his corn-binding.
The various collectors of Irish folk-lore have, from
our point of view, one great merit, and from the point
of view of others, one great fault. They have made their
work literature rather than science, and told us of the
Irish peasantry rather than of the primitive religion of
mankind, or whatever else the f olk-lorists are on the gad
after. To be considered scientists they should have tabu
lated all their tales in forms like grocers bills item
the fairy king, item the queen. Instead of this they
have caught the very voice of the people, the very pulse
of life, each giving what was most noticed in his day.
Croker and Lover, full of the ideas of harum-scarum
Irish gentility, saw everything humorized. The impulse
of the Irish literature of their time came from a class
that did not mainly for political reasons^ take the
populace seriously, and imagined the country as a
humorist s Arcadia; its passion, its gloom, its tragedy,
they knew nothing of. What they did was not wholly
false; they merely magnified an irresponsible type,
found of tenest among boatmen, carmen, and gentlemen s
servants, into the type of a whole nation, and created
the stage Irishman. The writers of Forty-eight, and
INTRODUCTION xv
the famine combined, burst their bubble. Their work
had the dash as well as the shallowness of an ascendant
and idle class, and in Croker is touched everywhere with
beauty a gentle Arcadian beauty. Carleton, a peasant
born, has in many of his stories I have been only able
to give a few of the slightest more especially in his
ghost stories, a much more serious way with him, for
all his humor. Kennedy, an old bookseller in Dublin,
who seems to have had a something of genuine belief
in the fairies, came next in time. He has far less liter
ary faculty, but is wonderfully accurate, giving often
the very words the stories were told in. But the best
book since Croker is Lady Wilde s Ancient Legends.
The humor has all given way to pathos and tenderness.
We have here the innermost heart of the Celt in the
moments he has grown to love through years of perse
cution, when, cushioning himself about with dreams,
and hearing fairy-songs in the twilight, he ponders on
the soul and on the dead!. Here is the Celt, only it is
the Celt dreaming.
Besides these are two writers of importance, who have
published, so far, nothing in book shape Miss Letitia
Maclintock and Mr. Douglas Hyde. Miss Maclintock
writes accurately and beautifully the half Scotch dialect
of Ulster; and Mr. Douglas Hyde is now preparing a
volume of folk tales in Gaelic, having taken them down,
for the most part, word for word among the Gaelic
speakers of Roscommon and Galway. He is, perhaps,
most to be trusted of all. He knows the people thor
oughly. Others see a phase of Irish life ; he understands
all its elements. His work is neither humorous nor
mournful; it is simply life. I hope he may put some of
his gatherings into ballads, for he is the last of oui
ballad-writers of the school of Walsh and Callanan
men whose work seems fragrant with turf smoke. And
this brings to mind the chap-books. They are to be
found brown with turf smoke on cottage shelves, and
xvi INTRODUCTION
are, or were, sold on every hand by the pedlars, but can
not be found in any library of this city of the Sassa-
nach. "The Eoyal Fairy Tales," "The Hibernian
Tales/ and "The Legends of the Fairies" are the fairy
literature of the people.
Several specimens of our fairy poetry are given. It is
more like the fairy poetry of Scotland than of England.
The personages of English fairy literature are merely, in
most cases, mortals beautifully masquerading. Nobody
ever believed in such fairies. They are romantic bubbles
from Provence. Nobody ever laid new milk on their
doorstep for them.
As to my own part in this book, I have tried to make
it representative, as far as so few pages would allow,
of every kind of Irish folk-faith. The reader will per
haps wonder that in all my notes I have not rationalized
a single hobgoblin. I seek for shelter to the words of
Socrates.*
"Phcedrus. I should like to know, Socrates, whether
the place is not somewhere here at which Boreas is said
to have carried off Orithyia from the banks of the
Jlissus.
"Socrates. That is the tradition.
"Phcedrus. And is this the exact spot? The little
stream is delightfully clear and bright ; I can fancy that
there might be maidens playing near.
"Socrates. I believe the spot is not exactly here, but
:about a quarter-of-a-mile lower down, where you cross
to the temple of Artemis, and I think that there is some
sort of an altar of Boreas at the place.
"Phcedrus. I do not recollect; but I beseech yon to
tell me, Socrates, do you believe this tale ?
"Socrates. The wise are doubtful, and I should not
be singular if, like them, I also doubted. I might have
a rational explanation that Orithyia was playing with
* Phwdrus. Jowett s translation. (Clarendon Press.)
INTRODUCTION xvii
Pharmacia, when a northern gust carried her over the
neighboring rocks; and this being the manner of her
death, she was said to have been carried away by Boreas.
There is a discrepancy, however, about the locality.
According to another version of the story, she was taken
from the Areopagus, and not from this place. Now I
quite acknowledge that these allegories are very nice, but
he is not to be envied who has to invent them; much
labor and ingenuity will be required of him; and when
he has once begun, he must go on and rehabilitate cen
taurs and chimeras dire. Gorgons and winged steeds
flow in apace, and numberless other inconceivable and
portentous monsters. And if he is sceptical about them,
and would fain reduce them one after another to the
rules of probability, this sort of crude philosophy will
take up all his time. Now, I have certainly not time
for such inquiries. Shall I tell you why ? I must first
know myself, as the Delphian inscription says; to be
curious about that which is not my business, while I am
still in ignorance of my own self, would be ridiculous.
And, therefore, I say farewell to all this; the common
opinion is enough for me. For, as I was saying, I want
to know not about this, but about myself. Am I, in
deed, a wonder more complicated and swollen with pas
sion than the serpent Typho, or a creature of gentler
and simpler sort, to whom nature has given a diviner
and lowlier destiny?"
I have to thank Messrs. Macmillan, and the editors of
Belgravia, All the Year Round, and Monthly Packet,
for leave to quote from Patrick Kennedy s Legendary
Fictions of the Irish Celts, and Miss Maclintock s arti
cles respectively; Lady Wilde, for leave to give what I
would from her Ancient Legends of Ireland (Ward &
Downey) ; and Mr. Douglas Hyde, for his three unpub-
xviii INTRODUCTION
lished stories, and for valuable and valued assistance
in several ways; and also Mr. Allingham, and other
copyright holders, for their poems. Mr. Allirigham s
poems are from Irish Songs and Poems (Reeves and
Turner); Fergusson s, from Sealey, Bryers & Walker s
shilling reprint; my own and Miss O Leary s from Bal
lads and Poems of Young Ireland, 1888, a little anthol
ogy published by Gill & Sons, Dublin.
W. B. YEATS.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE TROOPING FAIRIES
THE Irish word for fairy is sheehogue [sidhedg], a diminu
tive of "shee" in banshee. Fairies are deenee shee [daoine
sidhe] (fairy people).
Who are they? "Fallen angels who were not good enough
to be saved, nor bad enough to be lost," say the peasantry.
"The gods of the earth," says the Book of Armagh. "The
gods of pagan Ireland," say the Irish antiquarians, "the
Tuatha De Dandn, who, when no longer worshipped and fed
with offerings, dwindled away in the popular imagination,
and now are only a few spans high."
And they will tell you, in proof, that the names of fairy
chiefs are the names of old Dandn heroes, and the places
where they especially gather together, Dandn burying-places,
and that the Tuatha De Dandn used also to be called the
slooa-shee [sheagh sidhe} (the fairy host), or Marcra shee
(the fairy cavalcade).
On the other hand, there is much evidence to prove them
fallen angels. Witness the nature of the creatures, their
caprice, their way of being good to the good and evil to the
evil, having every charm but conscience consistency.
Beings so quickly offended that you m,ust not speak much
about them at all, and never call them anything but the
"gentry," or else daoine maithe, which in English means
good people, yet so easily pleased, they will do their best
to keep misfortune away from you, if you leave a little milk
for them on the window-sill over night. On the whole, the
popular belief tells us most about them, telling us how they
fell, and yet were not lost, because their evil was wholly
without malice.
Are they "the gods of the earth?" Perhaps ! Many poets,
2 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
aad all mystic aaa occult writers, in all ages and countries,
have declared that behind the visible are chains on chains
or conscious beings, who are not of heaven but of the earth,
who have no inherent form but change according to their
whim, or the mind that sees them. You cannot lift your
hand without influencing and being influenced by hoards.
The visible world is merely their skin. In dreams we go
among them, and play with them, and combat with them.
They are, perhaps human souls in the crucible these crea
tures of whim.
Do not think the fairies are always little. Everything is
capricious about them, even their size. They seem to take
what size or shape pleases them. Their chief occupations
are feasting, fighting, and making love, and playing the most
beautiful music. They have only one industrious person
among them, the lepra-caun the shoemaker. Perhaps they
wear their shoes out with dancing. Near the village of
Ballisodare is a little woman who lived among them seven
years. When she came home she had no toes she had
danced them off.
They have three great festivals in the year May Eve,
Midsummer Eve, November Eve. On May Eve, every seventh
year, they fight all round, but mostly on the "Plain-a-
Bawn" (wherever that is), for the harvest, for the best ears
of grain belong to them. An old man told me he saw them
fight once; they tore the thatch off a house in the midst of
it all. Had anyone else been near they would merely have
seen a great wind whirling everything into the air as it
passed. When the wind makes the straws and leaves whirl
as it passes, that is the fairies, and the peasantry take off
their hats and say, "God bless them."
On Midsummer Eve, when the bonfires are lighted on
every hill in honor of St. John, the fairies are at their
gayest, and sometimes steal away beautiful mortals to be
their brides.
On November Eve they are at their gloomiest, for, accord
ing to the old Gaelic reckoning, this is the first night of
winter. This night they dance with the ghosts, and the
pooka is abroad, and witches make their spells, and girls
set a table with food in the name of the devil, that the fetch
of their future lover may come through the window and eat
of the food. After November Eve the blackberries are no
longer wholesome, for the pooka has spoiled them.
When they are angry they paralyze men and cattle with
their fairy darts.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 3
When they are gay they sing. Many a poor girl has heard
them, and pined away and died, for love of that singing.
Plenty of the old beautiful tunes of Ireland are only their
music, caught up by eavesdroppers. No wise peasant would
hum "The Pretty Girl Milking the Cow" near a fairy rath,
for they are jealous, and do not like to hear their songs on
clumsy mortal lips. Carolan, the last of the Irish bards,
slept on a rath, and ever after the fairy tunes ran in his
head, and made him the great man he was.
Do they die? Blake saw a fairy s funeral ; but in Ireland
we say they are immortal.
THE FAIEIES
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
UP the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl s feather !
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs
All night awake.
High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He s nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep.
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.
By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren t go a-hunting
For fear of little men ;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl s feather!
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
FKANK MAETIN AND THE FAIKIES
WILLIAM CAKLETON"
MARTIN" was a thin, pale man, when I saw him, of a
sickly look, and a constitution naturally feeble. His
hair was a light auburn, his beard mostly unshaven, and
his hands of a singular delicacy and whiteness, owing,
I dare say, as much to the soft and easy nature of his
employment as to his infirm health. In everything else
he was as sensible, sober, and rational as any other man ;
but on the topic of fairies, the man s mania was pecu
liarly strong and immovable. Indeed, I remember that
the expression of his eyes was singularly wild and hol
low, and his long, narrow temples sallow and emaciated.
Now, this man did not lead an unhappy life, nor did
the malady he labored under seem to be productive of
either pain or terror to him, although one might be apt
to imagine otherwise. On the contrary, he and the
fairies maintained the most friendly intimacy, and theif
dialogues which I fear were wofully one-sided ones
must have been a source of great pleasure to him, for
they were conducted with much mirth and laughter,
on his part at least.
"Well, Frank, when did you see the fairies ?"
"Whist ! There s two dozen of them in the shop (the
weaving shop) this minute. There s a little ould fellow
sittin on the top of the sleys, an all to be rocked while
I m weavin . The sorrow s in them, but they re the
greatest little skamers alive, so they are. See, there ?
another of them at my dressin noggin.* Go out o
that, you shingawn; or, bad cess to me, if you don t, but
I ll lave you a mark. Ha ! cut, you thief you !"
* The dressings are a species of sizy flummery, which is
brushed into the yarn to keep the thread round and even,
and to prevent it from being frayed by the friction of the
reed.
6 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Frank, arn t you afeard o them?"
"Is it me ! Arra, what ud I be afeard o them for ?
Sure they have no power over me/
"And why haven t they, Frank ?"
"Because I was baptized against them."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why, the priest that christened me was tould by my
father, to put in the proper prayer against the fairies
an a priest can t refuse it when he s asked an he did
so. Begorra, it s well for me that he did (let the tal
low alone, you little glutton see, there s a weeny thief
o them aitin my tallow) becaise, you see, it was their
intention to make me king o the fairies."
"Is it possible?"
"Devil a lie in it. Sure you may ax them, an they ll
tell you."
"What size are they, Frank ?"
"Oh, little wee fellows, with green coats, an the pur-
tiest little shoes ever you seen. There s two of them
both ould acquaintances o mine runnin along the
yarn-beam. That ould fellow with the bob-wig is called
Jim Jam, an the other chap, with the three-cocked hat,
is called Nickey Nick. Nickey plays the pipes. Nickey,
give us a tune or I ll malivogue you come now,
Lough Erne Shore. Whist, now listen !"
The poor fellow, though weaving as fast as he could
all the time, yet bestowed every possible mark of atten
tion to the music, and seemed to enjoy it as much as
if it had been real.
But who can tell whether that which we look upon as
a privation may not after all be a fountain of increased
happiness, greater, perhaps, than any which we our
selves enjoy? I forget who the poet is who says:
"Mysterious are thy laws;
The vision s finer than the view;
Her landscape Nature never drew
So fair as Fancy draws."
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 7
Many a time, when a mere child, not more than six
or seven years of age, have I gone as far as Frank s
weaving-shop, in order, with a heart divided between
curiosity and fear, to listen to his conversation with the
good people. From morning till night his tongue was
going almost as incessantly as his shuttle; and it was
well known that at night, whenever he awoke out of
his sleep, the first thing he did was to put out his hand,
and push them, as it were, off his bed.
"Go out o this, you thieves, you go out o this now,
an let me alone. Nickey, is this any time to be play
ing the pipes, and me wants to sleep ? Go off, now
troth if yez do, you ll see what I ll give yez to-morrow.
Sure I ll be makin new dressin s; and if yez behave
decently, maybe I ll lave yez the scrapin o the pot.
There now. Och ! poor things, they re dacent crathurs.
Sure they re all gone, barrin poor Red-cap, that doesn t
like to lave me." And then the harmless monomaniac
would fall back into what we trust was an innocent
slumber.
About this time there was said to have occurred a very
remarkable circumstance, which gave poor Frank a vast
deal of importance among the neighbors. A man named
Frank Thomas, the same in whose house Mickey
M Rorey held the first dance at which I ever saw him,
as detailed in a former sketch; this man, I say, had a
child sick, but of what complaint I cannot now remem
ber, nor is it of any importance. One of the gables of
Thomas s house was built against, or rather into, a
Forth or Rath, called Towny, or properly Tonagh Forth.
It was said to be haunted by the fairies, and what gave
it a character peculiarly wild in my eyes was, that there
were on the southern side of it two or three little green
mounds, which were said to be the graves of unchris-
tened children, over which it was considered dangerous
and unlucky to pass. At all events, the season was mid
summer ; and one evening about dusk, during the illness
5 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
of the child, the noise of a hand-saw was heard upon the
Forth. This was considered rather strange, and, after a
little time, a few of those who were assembled at Frank
Thomas s went to see who it could be that was sawing in
such a place, or what they could be sawing at so late
an hour, for every one knew that nobody in the whole
country about them would dare to cut down the few
white-thorns that grew upon the Forth. On going to
examine, however, judge of their surprise, when, after
surrounding and searching the whole place, they could
discover no trace of either saw or sawyer. In fact, with
the exception of themselves, there was no one, either
natural or supernatural, visible. They then returned
to the house, and had scarcely sat down, when it was
heard again within ten yards of them. Another exami
nation of the premises took place, but with equal suc
cess. Now, however, while standing on the Forth, they
heard the sawing in a little hollow, about a hundred and
fifty yards below them, which was completely exposed
to their view, but they could see nobody. A party of
them immediately went down to ascertain, if possible,
what this singular noise and invisible labor could mean ;
but on arriving at the spot, they heard the sawing, to
which were now added hammering and the driving of
nails upon the Forth above, while those who stood on
the Forth continued to hear it in the hollow. On com
paring notes, they resolved to send down to Billy Nel
son s for Frank Martin, a distance of only about eighty
or ninety yards. He was soon on the spot, and without
a moment s hesitation solved the enigma.
" Tis the fairies," said he. "I see them, and busy
crathurs they are."
"But what are they sawing, Frank?"
"They are makin a child s coffin," he replied ; "they
have the body already made, an they re now nailnr*
the lid together."
That night the child died, and the story goes that
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 9
on the second evening afterward, the carpenter who was
called upon to make the coffin brought a table out from
Thomas s house to the Forth, as a temporary bench;
and, it is said, that the sawing and hammering neces
sary for the completion of his task were precisely the
same which had been heard the evening but one before
neither more nor less. I remember the death of the
child myself, and the making of its coffin, but I think
the story of the supernatural carpenter was not heard
in the village for some months after its interment.
Frank had every appearance of a hypochondriac about
him. At the time I saw him, he might be about thirty-
four years of age, but I do not think, from the debility
of his frame and infirm health, that he has been alive
for several years. He was an object of considerable in
terest and curiosity, and often have I been present when
he was pointed out to strangers as "the man that could
see the good people."
THE PRIEST S SUPPER
T. CKOFTON CHOKER
IT is said by those who ought to understand such
things, that the good people, or the fairies, are some of
the angels who were turned out of heaven, and who
landed on their feet in this world, while the rest of their
companions, who had more sin to sink them, went down
further to a worse place. Be this as it may, there was a
merry troop of the fairies, dancing and playing all man
ner of wild pranks, on a bright moonlight evening
toward the end of September. The scene of their merri
ment was not far distant from Inchegeela, in the west
of the county Cork a poor village, although it had a
barrack for soldiers; but great mountains and barren
10 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
rocks, like those round about it, are enough to strike
poverty into any place : however, as the fairies can have
everything they want for wishing, poverty does not
trouble them much, and all their care is to seek out
unfrequented nooks and places where it is not likely
any one will come to spoil their sport.
On a nice green sod by the river s side were the little
fellows dancing in a ring as gaily as may be, with their
red caps wagging about at every bound in the moon
shine, and so light were these bounds that the lobs of
dew, although they trembled under their feet, were not
disturbed by their capering. Thus did they carry on
their gambols, spinning round and round, and twirling
and bobbing and diving, and going through all manner
of figures, until one of them chirped out:
"Cease, cease, with your drumming,
Here s an end to our mumming ;
By my smell
I can tell
A priest this way is coming!"
And away every one of the fairies scampered off as hard
as they could, concealing themselves under the green
leaves of the lusmore, where, if their little red caps
should happen to peep out, they would only look like its
crimson bells ; and more hid themselves at the shady side
of stones and brambles, and others under the bank of
the river, and in holes and crannies of one kind or
another.
The fairy speaker was not mistaken; for along the
road, which was within view of the river, came Father
Horrigan on his pony, thinking to himself that as it
was so late he would make an end of his journey at the
first cabin he came to. According to this determination,
he stopped at the dwelling of Dermod Leary, lifted the
latch, and entered with "My blessing on all here."
I need not say that Father Horrigan was a welcome
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 11
guest wherever he went, for no man was more pious or
better beloved in the country. Now it was a great
trouble to Dermod that he had nothing to offer his
reverence for supper as a relish to the potatoes, which
"the old woman," for so Dermod called his wife, though
she was not much past twenty, had down boiling in a
pot over the fire; he thought of the net which he had
set in the river, but as it had been there only a short
time, the chances were against his finding a fish in it.
"No matter," thought Dermod, "there can be no harm
in stepping down to try; and maybe, as I want the fish
for the priest s supper, that one will be there before
me."
Down to the river-side went Dermod, and he found
in the net as fine a salmon as ever jumped in the bright
waters of "the spreading Lee"; but as he was going to
take it out, the net was pulled from him, he could not
tell how or by whom, and away got the salmon, and went
swimming along with the current as gaily as if nothing
had happened.
Dermod looked sorrowfully at the wake which the fish
had left upon the water, shining like a line of silver in
the moonlight, and then, with an angry motion of his
right hand, and a stamp of his foot, gave vent to his
feelings by muttering, "May bitter bad luck attend you
night and day for a blackguard schemer of a salmon,
wherever you go! You ought to be ashamed of your
self, if there s any shame in you, to give me the slip
after this fashion! And I m clear in my own mind
you ll come to no good, for some kind of evil thing or
other helped you did I not feel it pull the net against
me as strong as the devil himself?"
"That s not true for you," said one of the little fairies
who had scampered off at the approach of the priest,
coming up to Dermod Leary with a whole throng of
companions at his heels ; "there was only a dozen and a
half of us pulling against you."
12 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Dei-mod gazed on the tiny speaker with wonder, who
continued, "Make yourself noways uneasy about the
priest s supper ; for if you will go back and ask him one
question from us, there will be as fine a supper as ever
was put on a table spread out before him 2n less than
no time/
"I ll have nothing at all to do with you/ replied
Dermod in a tone of determination; and after a pause
he added, "Fm much obliged to you for your offer, sir,
but I know better than to sell myself to you, or the like
of you, for a supper ; and more than that, I know Father
Horrigan has more regard for my soul than to wish me
to pledge it for ever, out of regard to anything you
could put before him so there s an end of the matter."
The little speaker, with a pertinacity not to be re
pulsed by Dermod s manner, continued, "Will you ask
the priest one civil question for us ?"
Dermod considered for some time, and he was right in
doing so, but he thought that no one could come to
harm out of asking a civil question. "I see no objection
to do that same, gentlemen/ said Dermod; "but I will
have nothing in life to do with your supper mind
that."
"Then," said the little speaking fairy, while the rest
came crowding after him from all parts, "go and ask
Father Horrigan to tell us whether our souls will be
saved at the last day, like the souls of good Christians ;
and if you wish us well, bring back word what he says
without delay."
Away went Dermod to his cabin, where he found the
potatoes thrown out on the table, and his good woman
handing the biggest of them all, a beautiful laughing
red apple, smoking like a hard-ridden horse on a frosty
night, over to Father Horrigan.
"Please your reverence," said Dermod, after some
hesitation, "may I make bold to ask your honor one
question ?"
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 13
"What may that be?" said Father Horrigan.
"Why, then, begging your reverence s pardon for my
freedom, it is, If the souls of the good people are to be
saved at the last day?"
"Who bid you ask me that question, Leary ?" said the
priest, fixing his eyes upon him very sternly, which
Dermod could not stand before at all.
"I ll tell no lies about the matter, and nothing in life
but the truth," said Dermod. "It was the good people
themselves who sent me to ask the question, and there
they are in thousands down on the bank of the river,
waiting for me to go back with the answer."
"Go back by all means," said the priest, "and tell
them, if they want to know, to come here to me them-
selves, and I ll answer that or any other question they
are pleased to ask with the greatest pleasure in life."
Dermod accordingly returned to the fairies, who came
swarming round about him to hear what the priest had
said in reply ; and Dermod spoke out among them like a
bold man as he was: but when they heard that they
must go to the priest, away they fled, some here and
more there, and some this way and more that, whisking
by poor Dermod so fast and in such numbers that he
was quite bewildered.
When he came to himself, which was not for a long
time, back he went to his cabin, and ate his dry potatoes
along with Father Horrigan, who made quite light of
the thing; but Dermod could not help thinking it a
mighty hard case that his reverence, whose words had
the power to banish the fairies at such a rate, should
have no sort of relish to his supper, and that the fine
salmon he had in the net should have been got away
from him in such a manner.
14 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE FAIBY WELL OF LAGNANAY
BY SAMUEL FERGUSON
MOURNFULLY, sing mournfully
"0 listen, Ellen, sister dear:
Is there no help at all for me,
But only ceaseless sigh and tear?
Why did not he who left me here,
With stolen hope steal memory?
listen, Ellen, sister dear:
(Mournfully, sing mournfully)
I ll go away to Sleamish hill,
Fll pluck the fairy hawthorn-tree,
And let the spirits work their will;
1 care not if for good or ill,
So they but lay the memory
Which all my heart is haunting still !
(Mournfully, sing mournfully)
The Fairies are a silent race,
And pale as lily flowers to see;
I care not for a blanched face,
For wandering in a dreaming place,
So I but banish memory :
I wish I were with Anna Grace !"
Mournfully, sing mournfully !
Hearken to my tale of woe
? Twas thus to weeping Ellen Con,
Her sister said in accents low,
Her only sister, Una bawn :
J Twas in their bed before the dawn,
And Ellen answered sad and slow,
"Oh Una, Una, be not drawn
(Hearken to my tale of woe)
To this unholy grief I pray,
Which makes me sick at heart to know,
And I will help you if I may :
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 15
The Fairy Well of Lagnanay
Lie nearer me, I tremble so,
Una, Fve heard wise women say
(Hearken to my. tale of woe)
That if before the dews arise,
True maiden in its icy flow
With pure hand bathe her bosom thrice,
Three lady-brackens pluck likewise,
And three times round the fountain go,
She straight forgets her tears and sighs. *
Hearken to my tale of woe !
All, alas ! and well-away !
"Oh, sister Ellen, sister sweet,
Come with me to the hill I pray,
And I will prove that blessed f reet !"
They rose with soft and silent feet,
They left their mother where she lay,
Their mother and her care discreet,
(All, alas! and well-away!)
And soon they reached the Fairy Well,
The mountain s eye, clear, cold, and grey,
Wide open in the dreary fell :
How long they stood twere vain to tell,
At last upon the point of day,
Bawn Una bares her bosom s swell,
(All, alas! and well-away!)
Thrice o er her shrinking breasts she laves
The gliding glance that will not stay
Of subtly-streaming fairy waves :
And now the charm three brackens craves.
She plucks them in their f ring d array :
Now round the well her fate she braves,
All, alas ! and well-away !
Save us all from Fairy thrall !
Ellen sees her face the rim
Twice and thrice, and that is all
16 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Fount and hill and maiden swim
All together melting dim !
; <Una ! Una !" thou may st call,
Sister sad ! but lith or limb
(Save us all from Fairy thrall!)
Never again of Una bawn,
Where now she walks in dreamy hall,
Shall eye of mortal look upon !
Oh ! can it be the guard was gone,
The better guard than shield or wall?
Who knows on earth save Jurlagh Daune?
( Save us all from Fairy thrall ! )
Behold the banks are green and bare,
No pit is here wherein to fall :
Aye at the fount you well may stare,
But naught save pebbles smooth is there,
And small straws twirling one and all.
Hie thee home, and be thy pray r,
Save us all from Fairy thrall.
TEIG O KANE (TADHG CATHAN) AND THE
COEPSE*
LITERALLY TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH BY DOUGLAS
HYDE
[I FOUND it hard to place Mr. Douglas Hyde s magnifi
cent story. Among the ghosts or the fairies? It is among
the fairies on the grounds that all these ghosts and bodies
were in no manner ghosts and bodies, but pishogues fairy
spells. One often hears of these visions in Ireland. I have
met a man who had lived a wild life like the man in the
story, till a vision came to him in County one dark
night in no way so terrible a vision as this, but sufficient
to change his whole character. He will not go out at night.
* None of Mr. Hyde s stories here given have been pub
lished before. They will be printed in the original Irish in
his forthcoming Leabhar Sgeulaigheachta (Gill, Dublin).
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 17
If you speak to him suddenly he trembles. He has grown
timid and strange. He went to the bishop and was sprinkled
with holy water. "It may have come as a warning," said
the bishop; "yet great theologians are of opinion that no
man ever saw an apparition, for no man would survive
it." ED.]
THERE was once a grown-up lad in the County Lei-
trim, and he was strong and lively, and the son of a rich
farmer. His father had plenty of money, and he did
not spare it on the son. Accordingly, when the boy
grew up he liked sport better than work, and, as his
father had no other children, he loved this one so much
that he allowed him to do in everything just as it
pleased himself. He was very extravagant, and he used
to scatter the gold money as another person would
scatter the white. He was seldom to be found at home,
but if there was a fair, or a race, or a gathering within
ten miles of him, you were dead certain to find him
there. And he seldom spent a night in his father s
house, but he used to be always out rambling, and, like
Shawn Bwee long ago, there was
"gradh gach cailin i mbrollach a leine,"
"the love of every girl in the breast of his shirt, 35 and
it s many s the kiss he got and he gave, for he was very
handsome, and there wasn t a girl in the country but
would fall in love with him, only for him to fasten his
two eyes on her, and it was for that someone made this
rann on him
"Feuch an rogaire g iarraidh poige,
Ni h-iongantas mor e" a bheith mar ata
Ag leanamhaint a gcomhnuidhe d arnan na graineoige
Annas s anios s nna chodladh sa la."
i.e.
"Look at the rogue, it s for kisses he s rambling,
It isn t much wonder, for that was his way ;
He s like an old hedgehog, at night he ll be scrambling
From this place to that, but he ll sleep in the day."
18 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
At last he became very wild and unruly. He wasn t
to be seen day nor night in his father s house, but always
rambling or going on his kailee (night-visit) from place
to place and from house to house, so that the old people
used to shake their heads and say to one another, "it s
easy seen what will happen to the land when the old
man dies; his son will run through it in a year, and it
won t stand him that long itself."
He used to be always gambling and card-playing and
drinking, but his father never minded his bad habits,
and never punished him. But it happened one day that
the old man was told that the son had ruined the char
acter of a girl in the neighborhood, and he was greatly
angry, and he called the son to him, and said to him,
quietly and sensibly "Avic," says he, "you know I
loved you greatly up to this, and I never stopped you
from doing your choice thing whatever it was, and I
kept plenty of money with you, and I always hoped to
leave you the house and land, and all I had after myself
would be gone; but I heard a story of you to-day that
has disgusted me with you. I cannot tell you the grief
that I felt when I heard such a thing of you, and I tell
you now plainly that unless you marry that girl I ll
leave house and land and everything to my brother s son.
I never could leave it to anyone who would make so bad
a use of it as you do yourself, deceiving women and
coaxing girls. Settle with yourself now whether you ll
marry that girl and get my land as a fortune with her,
or refuse to marry her and give up all that was coming
to you; and tell me in the morning which of the two
things you have chosen."
"Och! Domnoo Sheery! father, you wouldn t say that
to me, and I such a good son as I am. Who told you I
wouldn t marry the girl ?" says he.
But his father was gone, and the lad knew well
enough that he would keep his word too; and he was
greatly troubled in his mind,, for as quiet and as kind as
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 19
the father was, he never went back of a word that he had
once said, and there wasn t another man in the country
who was harder to bend than he was.
The boy did not know rightly what to do. He was in
love with the x girl indeed, and he hoped to marry her
some time or other, but he would much sooner have re
mained another while as he was, and follow on at his
old tricks drinking, sporting, and playing cards; and,
along with that, he was angry that his father should
order him to marry, and should threaten him if he did
not do it.
"Isn t my father a great fool !" says he to himself. "I
was ready enough, and only too anxious, to marry Mary ;
and now since he threatened me, faith I ve a great mind
to let it go another while."
His mind was so much excited that he remained be
tween two notions as to what he should do. He walked
out into the night at last to cool his heated blood, and
went on to the road. He lit a pipe, and as the night
was fine he walked and walked on, until the quick pace
made him begin to forget his trouble. The night was
bright, and the moon half full. There was not a breath
of wind blowing, and the air was calm and mild. He
walked on for nearly three hours, when he suddenly
remembered that it was late in the night, and time for
him to turn. "Musha ! I think I forgot myself," says
he ; "it must be near twelve o clock now."
The word was hardly out of his mouth, when he heard
the sound of many voices, and the trampling of feet on
the road before him. "I don t know who can be out
so late at night as this, and on such a lonely road,"
said he to himself.
He stood listening, and he heard the voices of many
people talking through other, but he could not under
stand what they were saying. "Oh, wirra !" says he,
"I m afraid. It s not Irish or English they have; it
can t be they re Frenchmen !" He went on a couple of
20 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
yards further, and he saw well enough by the light of
the moon a band of little people coming toward him,
and they were carrying something big and heavy with
them.
"Oh, murder I" says he to himself, "sure it can t
be that they re the good people that s in it!" Every
rib of hair that was on his head stood up, and there fell
a shaking on his bones, for he saw that they were coming
to him fast.
He looked at them again, and perceived that there
were about twenty little men in it, and there was not a
man at all of them higher than about three feet or three
feet and a half, and some of them were gray, and seemed
very old. He looked again, but he could not make out
what was the heavy thing they were carrying until they
came up to him, and then they all stood round about
him. They threw the heavy thing down on the roa.d, and
he saw on the spot that it was a dead body.
He became as cold as the Death, and there was not a
drop of blood running in his veins when an old little
gray maneen came up to him and said, "Isn t it lucky
we met you, Teig O Kane?"
Poor Teig could not bring out a word at all, nor open
his lips, if he were to get the world for it, and so he
gave no answer.
"Teig O Kane," said the little gray man again, "isn t
it timely you met us ?"
Teig could not answer him.
"Teig O Kane," says he, "the third time, isn t it lucky
and timely that we met you ?"
But Teig remained silent, for he was afraid to return
an answer, and his tongue was as if it was tied to the
roof of his mouth.
The little gray man turned to his companions, and
there was joy in his bright little eye. "And now," says
he, "Teig O Kane hasn t a word, we can do with him
what we please. Teig, Teig," says he, "you re living a
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 21
bad life, and we can make a slave of you now, and you
cannot withstand us, for there s no use in trying to go
against us. Lift that corpse/
Teig was so frightened that he was only able to utter
the two words, "I won t"; for as frightened as he was,
he was obstinate and stiff, the same as ever.
"Teig O Kane won t lift the corpse," said the little
maneen, with a wicked little laugh, for all the world
like the breaking of a lock of dry Jcippeens, and with a
little harsh voice like the striking of a cracked bell.
"Teig O Kane won t lift the corpse make him lift it;"
and before the word was out of his mouth they had all
gathered round poor Teig, and they all talking and
laughing through other.
Teig tried to run from them, but they followed him,
and a man of them stretched out his foot before him as
he ran, so that Teig was thrown in a heap on the road.
Then before he could rise up the fairies caught him,
some by the hands and some by the feet, and they held
him tight, in a way that he could not stir, with his face
against the ground. Six or seven of them raised the
body then, and pulled it over to him, and left it down
on his back. The breast of the corpse was squeezed
against Teig s back and shoulders, and the arms of the
corpse were thrown around Teig s neck. Then they
stood back from him a couple of yards, and let him get
up. He rose, foaming at the mouth and cursing, and he
shook himself, thinking to throw the corpse off his back.
But his fear and his wonder were great when he found
that the two arms had a tight hold round his own neck,
and .that the two legs were squeezing his hips firmly,
and that, however strongly he tried, he could not throw
it off, any more than a horse can throw off its saddle.
He was terribly frightened then, and he thought he was
lost. "Ochone ! for ever," said he to himself, "it s the
bad life I m leading that has given the good people this
power over me. I promise to God and Mary, Peter and
22 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Paul, Patrick and Bridget, that I ll mend my ways for
as long as I have to live, if I come clear out of this
danger and Fll marry the girl."
The little gray man came up to him again, and said
he to him, "Now, Teigeeri," says he, "you didn t lift
the body when I told you to lift it, and see how you
were made to lift it ; perhaps when I tell you to bury it
you won t bury it until you re made to bury it !"
"Anything at all that I can do for your honor/ said
Teig, "I ll do it," for he was getting sense already, and
if it had not been for the great fear that was on him,
he never would have let that civil word slip out of his
mouth.
The little man laughed a sort of laugh again. "You re
getting quiet now, Teig," says he. "I ll go bail but
you ll be quiet enough before I m done with you. Listen
to me now, Teig O Kane, and if you don t obey me in all
I m telling you to do, you ll repent it. You must carry
with you this corpse that is on your back to Teampoll-
Demus, and you must bring it into the church with
you, and make a grave for it in the very middle of the
church, and you must raise up the flags and put them
down again the very same way, and you must carry the
clay out of the church and leave the place as it was
when you came, so that no one could know that there
had been anything changed. But that s not all. Maybe
that the body won t be allowed to be buried in that
church; perhaps some other man has the bed, and, if
so, it s likely he won t share it with this one* If you
don t get leave to bury it in Teampoll-Demus, you must
carry it to Carrick-fhad-vic-Orus, and bury it in the
churchyard there; and if you don t get it into that
place, take it with you to Teampoll-Eonan ; and if that
churchyard is closed on you, take it to Imlogue-Fada ;
and if you re not able to bury it there, you ve no more
to do than to take it to Kill-Breedya, and you can bury
it there without hindrance. I cannot tell you what one
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 23
of those churches is the one where you will have leave
to bury that corpse under the clay, but I know that it
will be allowed you to bury him at some church or other
of them. If you do this work rightly, we will be thank
ful to you, and you will have no cause to grieve ; but if
you are slow or lazy, believe me we shall take satisfac
tion of you."
When the gray little man had done speaking, his
comrades laughed and clapped their hands together.
"Glic ! Glic ! Hwee ! Hwee I" they all cried ; "go on, go
on, you have eight hours before you till daybreak, and
if you haven t this man buried before the sun rises,
you re lost." They struck a fist and a foot behind on
him, and drove him on in the road. He was obliged to
walk, and to walk fast, for they gave him no rest.
He thought himself that there was not a wet path,
or a dirty boreen, or a crooked contrary road in the
whole county, that he had not walked that night. The
night was at times very dark, and whenever there would
come a cloud across the moon he could see nothing, and
then he used often to fall. Sometimes he was hurt, and
sometimes he escaped, but he was obliged always to
rise on the moment and to hurry on. Sometimes the
moon would break out clearly, and then he would look
behind him and see the little people following at his
back. And he heard them speaking amongst themselves,
talking and crying out, and screaming like a flock of
sea-gulls ; and if he was to save his soul he never under
stood as much as one word of what they were saying.
He did not know how far he had walked, when at
last one of them cried out to him, "Stop here!" He
stood, and they all gathered round him.
"Do you see those withered trees over there?" says
the old boy to him again. "Teampoll-Demus is among
those trees, and you must go in there by yourself, for we
cannot follow you or go with you. We must remain
here. Go on boldly."
24 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Teig looked from him, and he saw a high wall that
was in places half broken down, and an old gray church
on the inside of the wall, and about a dozen withered
old trees scattered here and there around it. There
was neither leaf nor twig on any of them, but their
bare crooked branches were stretched out like the arms
of an angry man when he threatens. He had no help
for it, but was obliged to go forward. He was a couple
of hundred yards from the church, but he walked on,
and never looked behind him until he came to the gate
of the churchyard. The old gate was thrown down,
and he had no difficulty in entering. He turned then
to see if any of the little people were following him, but
there came a cloud over the moon, and the night be
came so dark that he could see nothing. He went into
the churchyard, and he walked up the old grassy path
way leading to the church. When he reached the door,
lie found it locked. The door was large and strong,
and he did not know what to do. At last he drew out
his knife with difficulty, and stuck it in the wood to try
if it were not rotten, but it was not.
"Now," said he to himself, "I have no more to do;
the door is shut, and I can t open it."
Before the words were rightly shaped in his own
mind, a voice in his ear said to him, "Search for the
key on the top of the door, or on the wall."
He started. "Who is that speaking to me ?" he cried,
turning round; but he saw no one. The voice said in
his ear again, "Search for the key on the top of the
door, or on the wall."
"What s that?" said he, and the sweat running from
his forehead ; "who spoke to me ?"
"It s I, the corpse, that spoke to you !" said the voice.
"Can you talk ?" said Teig.
"Now and again," said the corpse.
Teig searched for the key, and he found it on the
top of the wall. He was too much frightened to say
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 25
any more, but he opened the door wide, and as quickly
as he could, and he went in, with the corpse on his
back. It was as dark as pitch inside, and poor Teig
began to shake and tremble.
"Light the candle," said the corpse.
Teig put has hand in his pocket, as well as he was
able, and drew out a flint and steel. He struck a spark
out of it, and lit a burnt rag he had in his pocket. He
blew it until it made a flame, and he looked around him.
The church was very ancient, and part of the wall was
broken down. The windows were blown in or cracked,
and the timber of the seats was rotten. There were six
or seven old iron candlesticks left there still, and in
one of these candlesticks Teig found the stump of an
old candle, and he lit it. He was still looking round him
on the strange and horrid place in which he found him
self, when the cold corpse whispered in his ear, "Bury
me now, bury me now; there is a spade and turn the
ground." Teig looked from him, and he saw a spade
lying beside the altar. He took it up, and he placed
the blade under a flag that was in the middle of the
aisle, and leaning all his weight on the handle of the
spade, he raised it. When the first flag was raised it
was not hard to raise the others near it, and he moved
three or four of them out of their places. The clay that
was under them was soft and easy to dig, but he had not
thrown up more than three or four shovelfuls, when he
felt the iron touch something soft like flesh. He threw
up three or four more shovelfuls from around it, and
then he saw that it was another body that was buried
in the same place.
"I am afraid I ll never be allowed to bury the two
bodies in the same hole," said Teig, in his own mind.
"You corpse, there on my back," says he, "will you be
satisfied if I bury you down here?" But the corpse
never answered him a word.
"That s a good sign," said Teig to himself. "Maybe
26 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALUS
he s getting quiet/ and he thrust the spade down in the
earth again. Perhaps he hurt the flesh of the other
body, for the dead man that was buried there stood up
in the grave, and shouted an awful shout. "Hoo ! hoo ! !
hoo ! ! ! Go ! go ! ! go ! ! ! or you re a dead, dead, dead
man !" And then he fell back in the grave again. Teig
said afterward, that of all the wonderful things he saw
that night, that was the most awful to him. His hair
stood upright on his head like the bristles of a pig, the
cold sweat ran off his face, and then came a tremor over
all his bones, until he thought that he must fall.
But after a while he became bolder, when he saw that
the second corpse remained lying quietly there, and he
threw in the clay on it again, and he smoothed it over
head, and he laid down the flags carefully as they had
been before. "It can t be that he ll rise up any more,"
said he.
He went down the aisle a little further, and drew
near to the door, and began raising the flags again,
looking for another bed for the corpse on his back. He
took up three or four flags and put them aside, and then
he dug the clay. He was not long digging until he laid
bare an old woman without a thread upon her but her
shirt. She was more lively than the first corpse, for he
had scarcely taken any of the clay away from about her,
when she sat up and began to cry, "Ho, you bodach
(clown) ! Ha, you bodach! Where has he been that he
got no bed ?"
Poor Teig drew back, and when she found that she
was getting no answer, she closed her eyes gently, lost
her vigor, and fell back quietly and slowly under the
clay. Teig did to her as he had done to the man he
threw the clay back on her, and left the flags down over
head.
He began digging again near the door, but before he
had thrown up more than a couple of shovelfuls, he
noticed a man s hand laid bare by the spade. "By my
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 27
soul, I ll go no further, then," said he to himself ; "what
use is it for me ?" And he threw the clay in again on
it, and settled the- flags as they had been before.
He left the church then, and his heart was heavy
enough, but he shut the door and locked it, and left the
key where he found it. He sat down on a tombstone
that was near the door, and began thinking. He was in
great doubt what he should do. He laid his face be
tween his -two hands, and cried for grief and fatigue,
since he was dead certain at this time that he never
would come home alive. He made another attempt to
loosen the hands of the corpse that were squeezed round
his neck, but they were- as tight as if they were clamped ;
and the more he tried to loosen them, the tighter they
squeezed him. He was going to sit down once more,
when the cold, horrid lips of the dead man said to him,
"Carrick-fhad-vic-Orus," and he remembered the com
mand of the good people to bring the corpse with him to
that place if he should be unable to bury it where he
had been.
He rose up, and looked about him. "I don t know the
way/ he said.
As soon as he had uttered the word, the corpse
stretched out suddenly its left hand that had been tight
ened round his neck, and kept it pointing out, showing
him the road he ought to follow. Teig went in the di
rection that the fingers were stretched, and passed out
of the churchyard. He found himself on an old rutty,
stony road, and he stood still again, not knowing where
to turn. The corpse stretched out its bony hand a sec
ond time, and pointed out to him another road not the
road by which he had come when approaching the old
church. Teig followed that road, and whenever he came
to a path or road meeting it, the corpse always stretched
out its hand and pointed with its fingers, showing him
the way he was to take.
Many was the cross-road he turned down, and many
28 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
was the crooked boreen he walked, until he saw from
him an old burying-ground at last, beside the road, but
there was neither church nor chapel nor any other build
ing in it. The corpse squeezed him tightly, and he
stood. "Bury me, bury me in the burying-ground/ said
the voice.
Teig drew over toward the old burying-place, and he
was not more than about twenty yards from it, when,
raising his eyes, he saw hundreds and hundreds of
ghosts men, women, and children sitting on the top
of the wall round about, or standing on the inside of it,
or running backward and forward, and pointing at him,
while he could see their mouths opening and shutting as
if they were speaking, though he heard no word, nor any
sound amongst them at all.
He was afraid to go forward, so he stood where he
was, and the moment he stood, all the ghosts became
quiet, and ceased moving. Then Teig understood that
it was trying to keep him from going in, that they were.
He walked a couple of yards forward, and immediately
the whole crowd rushed together toward the spot to
which he was moving, and they stood so thickly together
that it seemed to him that he never could break through
them, even though he had a mind to try. But he had no
mind to try it. He went back broken and dispirited,
and when he had gone a couple of hundred yards from
the burying-ground, he stood again, for he did not know
what way he was to go. He heard the voice of the
corpse in his ear, saying, "Teampoll-Bonan," and the
skinny hand was stretched out again, pointing him out
the road.
As tired as he was, he had to walk, and the road was
neither short nor even. The night was darker than ever,
and it was difficult to make his way. Many was the
toss he got, and many a bruise they left on his body. At
last he saw Teampoll-Eonan from him in the distance,
standing in the middle of the burying-ground. He
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 29
moved over toward it, and thought he was all right and
safe, when he saw no ghosts nor anything else on the
wall, and he thought he would never be hindered now
from leaving his load off him at last. He moved over
to the gate, but as he was passing in, he tripped on
the threshold. Before he could recover himself, some
thing that he could not see seized him by the neck, by
the hands, and by the feet, and bruised him, and shook
him, and choked him, until he was nearly dead ; and at
last he was lifted up, and carried more than a hundred
yards from that place, and then thrown down in an old
dyke, with the corpse still clinging to him.
He rose up, bruised and sore, but feared to go near
the place again, for he had seen nothing the time he
was thrown down and carried away.
"You corpse, up on my back," said he, "shall I go
over again to the churchyard?" but the corpse never
answered him.
"That s a sign you don t wish me to try it again/
said Teig.
He was now in great doubt as to what he ought to
do, when the corpse spoke in his ear, and said, "Im-
logue-Fada."
"Oh, murder!" said Teig, "must I bring you there?
If you keep me long walking like this, I tell you I ll fall
under you."
He went on, however, in the direction the corpse
pointed out to him. He could not have told, himself,
how long he had been going, when the dead man behind
suddenly squeezed him, and said, "There !"
Teig looked from him, and he saw a little low wall,
that was so broken down in places that it was no wall at
all. It was in a great wide field, in from the road ; and
only for three or four great stones at the corners, that
were more like rocks than stones, there was nothing to
show that there was either graveyard or burying-ground
there.
30 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Is this Imlogue-Fada ? Shall I bury you here?"
said Teig.
"Yes/ 7 said the voice.
"But I see no grave or gravestone, only this pile of
stones," said Teig.
The corpse did not answer, but stretched out its long,
fleshless hand, to show Teig the direction in which he
was to go. Teig went on accordingly, but he was greatly
terrified, for he remembered what had happened to him
at the last place. He went on, "with his heart in his
mouth," as he said himself afterward ; but when he came
to within fifteen or twenty yards of the little low, square
wall, there broke out a flash of lightning, bright yellow
and red, with blue streaks in it, and went round about
the wall in one course, and it swept by as fast as the
wallow in the clouds, and the longer Teig remained
looking at it the faster it went, till at last it became like
a bright ring of flame round the old graveyard, which
no one could pass without being burned by it. Teig
never saw, from the time he was born, and never saw
afterward, so wonderful or so splendid a sight as that
was. Eound went the flame, white and yellow and blue
sparks leaping out from it as it went, and although at
first it had been no more than a thin, narrow line, it
increased slowly until it was at last a great broad band,
and it was continually getting broader and higher, and
throwing out more brilliant sparks, till there was never
a color on the ridge of the earth that was not to be
seen in that fire; and lightning never shone and flame
never flamed that was so shining and so bright as that.
Teig was amazed ; he was half dead with fatigue, and
he had no courage left to approach the wall. There fell
a mist over his eyes, and there came a soorawn in his
head, and he was obliged to sit down upon a great stone
to recover himself. He could see nothing but the light,
and he could hear nothing but the whirr of it as it shot
round the paddock faster than a flash of lightning.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 31
As he sat there on the stone, the voice whispered once
more in his ear, "Kill-Breedya" ; and the dead man
squeezed him so tightly that he cried out. He rose
again, sick, tired, and trembling, and went forward as
he was directed. The wind was cold, and the road was
bad, and the load upon his back was heavy, and the
night was dark, and he himself was nearly worn out,
and if he had had very much farther to go he must have
fallen dead under his burden.
At last the corpse stretched out his hand, and said to
him, "Bury me there/
"This is the last burying-place," said Teig in his own
mind; "and the little gray man said I d be allowed to
bury him in some of them, so it must be this ; it can t be
but they ll let him in here."
The first faint streak of the ring of day was appear
ing in the east, and the clouds were beginning to catch
fire, but it was darker than ever, for the moon was set,
and there were no stars.
"Make haste, make haste !" said the corpse ; and Teig
hurried forward as well as he could to the graveyard,
which was a little place on a bare hill, with only a few
graves in it.
He walked boldly in through the open gate,
and nothing touched him, nor did he either hear
or see anything. He came to the middle of the ground,
and then stood up and looked round him for a spade
or shovel to make a grave. As he was turning round
and searching, he suddenly perceived what startled him
greatly a newly-dug grave right before him. He
moved over to it, and looked down, and there at the
bottom he saw a black coffin. He clambered down into
the hole and lifted the lid, and found that (as he
thought it would be) the coffin was empty. He had
hardly mounted up out of the hole, and was standing
on the brink, when the corpse, which had clung to him
for more than eight hours, suddenly relaxed its hold
32 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
of his neck, and loosened its shins from round his hips,
and sank down with a plop into the open coffin.
Teig fell down on his two knees at the brink of the
grave, and gave thanks to God. He made no delay
then, but pressed down the coffin lid in its place, and
threw in the clay over it with his two hands ; and when
the grave was filled up, he stamped and leaped on it
with his feet, until it was firm and hard, and then he
left the place.
The sun was fast rising as he finished his work, and
the first thing he did was to return to the road, and
look out for a house to rest himself in. He found an
inn at last, and lay down upon a bed there, and slept
till night. Then he rose up and ate a little, and fell
asleep again till morning. When he awoke in the morn
ing he hired a horse and rode home. He was more than
twenty-six miles from home where he was, and he had
come all that way with the dead body on his back in
one night.
All the people at his own home thought that he must
have left the country, and they rejoiced greatly when
they saw him come back. Everyone began asking him
where he had been, but he would not tell anyone except
his father.
He was a changed man from that day. He never
drank too much ; he never lost his money over cards ; and
especially he would not take the world and be out late
by himself of a dark night.
He was not a fortnight at home until he married
Mary, the girl he had been in love with; and it s at
their wedding the sport was, and it s he was the happy
man from that day forward, arid it s all I wish that
we may be as happy as he was.
GLOSSARY. Rann, a stanza; Jcailee (cilidhe), a visit in
the evening; wirra (a mhuire), "Oh, Mary!" an exclama
tion like the French dame; rib, a single hair (in Irish,
ri&e) ; a lock (glac), a bundle or wisp, or a little share of
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 33
anything; kippeen (cipin), a rod or twig; boreen (b6ithrin),
a lane; ~bodach, a clown; soorawn (suardn), vertigo. Avic
(a Mhic) rzr my son, or rather, Oh, son. Mic is the voca
tive of Mac.
PADDY CORCOKAN S WIFE
WILLIAM CARLETON-
PADDY CORCORAN S wife was for several years afflicted
with a. kind of complaint which nobody could properly
understand. She was sick, and she was not sick; she
was well, and she was not well ; she was as ladies wish
to be who love their lords, and she was not as such
ladies wish to be. In fact, nobody could tell what the
matter with her was. She had a gnawing at the heart
which came heavily upon her husband; for, with the
help of God, a keener appetite than the same gnawing
amounted to could not be met with of a summer s day.
The poor woman was delicate beyond belief, and had no
appetite at all, so she hadn t, barring a little relish for a
mutton-chop, or a "staik," or a bit o mait, anyway ; for
sure, God help her ! she hadn t the laist inclination for
the djry pratie, or the dhrop o sour buttermilk along
wid it, especially as she was so poorly; and, indeed, for
a woman in her condition for, sick as she was, poor
Paddy always was made to believe her in that condition
but God s will be done ! she didn t care. A pratie an
a grain o salt was a welcome to her glory be to his
name ! as the best roast an boiled that ever was
dressed; and why not? There was one comfort: she
wouldn t be long wid him long troublin him ; it mat-
thered little what she got; but sure she knew herself,
that from the gnawin at her heart, she could neve 7 " do
good widout the little bit o mait now and then; an .,
sure, if her own husband begridged it to her, who else
had she a better right to expect it from ?
34: IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Well, as we have said, she lay a bedridden invalid for
long enough, trying doctors and quacks of all sorts,
sexes, and sizes, and all without a farthing s benefit, un
til, at the long run, poor Paddy was nearly brought to
the last pass, in striving to keep her in "the bit o mait."
The seventh year was now on the point of closing, when,
one harvest day, as she lay bemoaning her hard condi
tion, on her bed beyond the kitchen fire, a little weeshy
woman, dressed in a neat red cloak, comes in, and, sit
ting down by the hearth, says:
"Well, Kitty Corcoran, you ve had a long lair of it
there on the broad o yer back for seven years, an you re
jist as far from bein cured as ever."
"Mavrone, ay," said the other; "in throth that s what
I was this minnit thinkin ov, and a sorrowful thought
it s to me."
"It s yer own fau t, thin," says the little woman;
"an , indeed, for that matter, it s yer fau t that ever you
wor there at all."
"Arra, how is that ?" asked Kitty. "Sure I wouldn t
be here if I could help it? Do you think it s a com
fort or a pleasure to me to be sick and bedridden?"
"No," said the other, "I do not; but I ll tell you the
truth: for the last seven years you have been annoying
us. I am one o the good people ; an as I have a regard
for you, I m come to let you know the raison why you ve
been sick so long as you are. For all the time you ve
been ill, if you ll take the thrubble to remimber, your
childhre threwn out yer dirty wather afther dusk an
before sunrise, at the very time we re passin yer door,
which we pass twice a-day. Now, if you avoid this, if
you throw it" out in a different place, an at a different
time, the complaint you have will lave you : so will the
gnawin at the heart; an you ll be as well as ever you
wor. If you don t follow this advice, why, remain as
you are, an all the art o man can t cure you." She
then bade her good-bye, and disappeared.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 35
Kitty, who was glad to be cured on such easy terms,
immediately complied with the injunction of the fairy;
and the consequence was, that the next day she found
herself in as good health as ever she enjoyed during
her life.
CUSHEEN LOO
TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH BY J. J. CALLAHAN
[THIS song is supposed to have been sung by a young
bride, who was forcibly detained in one of those forts which
are so common in Ireland, and to which the good people
are very fond of resorting. Under pretence of hushing her
child to rest, she retired to the outside margin of the fort,
and addressed the burthen of her song to a young woman
whom she saw at a short distance, and whom she requested
to inform her husband of her condition, and to desire him
to bring the steel knife to dissolve the enchantment.]
SLEEP, my child ! for the rustling trees,
Stirr d by the breath of summer breeze,
And fairy songs of sweetest note,
Around us gently float.
Sleep ! for the weeping flowers have shed
Their fragrant tears upon thy head,
The voice of love hath sooth d thy rest,
And thy pillow is a mother s breast.
Sleep, my child!
Weary hath pass d the time forlorn,
Since to your mansion I was borne,
Tho bright the feast of its airy halls,
And the voice of mirth resounds from its walls
Sleep, my child!
36 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Full many a maid and blooming bride
Within that splendid dome abide,
And many a hoar and shrivell d sage,
And many a matron bow d with age.
Sleep, my child!
Oh ! thou who nearest this song of fear,
To the mourner s home these tidings bear.
Bid him bring the knife of the magic blade,
At whose lightning-flash the charm will fade.
Sleep, my child!
Haste ! for to-morrow s sun will see
The hateful spell renewed for me;
Nor can I from that home depart,
Till life shall leave my withering heart.
Sleep, my child!
Sleep, my child ! for the rustling trees,
Stirr d by the breath of summer breeze,
And fairy songs of sweetest note,
Around us gently float.
THE WHITE TROUT; A LEGEND OF CONG
BY S. LOVEE
THEEE was wanst upon a time, long ago, a beautiful
lady that lived in a castle upon the lake beyant, and
they say she was promised to a king s son, and they
wor to be married, when all of a sudden he was mur-
thered, the crathur (Lord help us), and threwn into
the lake above, and so, of course, he couldn t keep his
promise to. the fairy lady and more s the pity.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 37
Well, the story goes that she went out iv her mind,
bekase av loosin the king s son for she was tendher-
hearted, God help her, like the rest iv us! and pineO
away after him, until at last, no one about seen her,
good or bad; and the story wint that the fairies took
her away.
Well, sir, in coorse o time, the White Throut, God
bless it, was seen in the sthrame beyant, and sure the
people didn t know what to think av the crathur, seein 51
as how a white throut was never heard av afor, nor
since; and years upon years the throut was there, just
where you seen it this blessed minit, longer nor I can
tell aye throth, and beyant the memory o th ouldest
in the village.
At last the people began to think it must be a fairy ;
for what else could it be? and no hurt nor harm was
iver put an the white throut, until some wicked sinners
of sojers kem to these parts, and laughed at all the peo
ple, and gibed and jeered them for thinkin o the likes ;
and one o* them in partic lar (bad luck to him; God
forgi me for saying it!) swore he d catch the throufc
and ate it for his dinner the blackguard !
Well, what would you think o the villainy of th&
sojer? Sure enough he cotch the throut, and away
wid him home, and puts an the fryin -pan, and into
it he pitches the purty little thing. The throut squeeled
all as one as a Christian crathur, and, my dear, you d
think the sojer id split his sides laughin for he was a
hardened villain; and when he thought one side was
done, he turns it over to fry the other; and, what
Would you think, but the divil a taste of a burn was
an it at all at all; and sure the sojer thought it was
a quare throut that could not be briled. "But," says
he, "I ll give it another turn by-and-by," little thinkin
what was in store for him, the haythen.
Well, when he thought that side was done he turns
it agin, and lo and behold you, the divil a taste more
38 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
done that side was nor the other. "Bad luck to me,"
says the sojer, "but that bates the world," says he; "but
I M thry you agin, my darlint," says he, "as cunnin as
you think yourself;" and so with that he turns it over
and over, but not a sign of the fire was on the purty
throut. "Well," says the desperate villain (for sure,
sir, only he was a desperate villain entirely, he might
know he was doing a wrong thing, seem that all his en
deavors was no good) "Well," says he, "my jolly little
throut, maybe you re fried enough, though you don t
seem over well dress d ; but you may be better than you
look, like a singed cat, and a tit-bit afther all," says
he; and with that he ups with his knife and fork to
taste a piece o the throut; but, my jew l, the minit he
puts his knife into the fish, there was a murtherin
screech, that you d think the life id lave you if you
hurd it, and away jumps the throut out av the fryin -
pan into the middle o the flure ; and an the spot where
it fell, up riz a lovely lady the beautifullest crathur
that eyes ever seen, dressed in white, and a band o
goold in her hair, and a sthrame o blood runnin down
her arm.
"Look where you cut me, you villain," says she, and
she held out her arm to him and, my dear, he thought
the sight id lave his eyes.
"Couldn t you lave me cool and comfortable in the
river where you snared me, and not disturb me in my
duty ?" says she.
Well, he thrimbled like a dog in a wet sack, and at
last he stammered out something and begged for his
life, and ax d her ladyship s pardin, and said he didn t
know she was on duty, or he was too good a sojer not to
know betther nor to meddle wid her.
"I was on duty, then," says the lady ; "I was watch in
for my true love that is comin by wather to me," says
she, "an if he comes while I m away, an that I miss
;v him, I ll turn you into a pinkeen, and I ll hunt
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 39
you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or
wather runs/
Well, the sojer thought the life id lave him, at the
thoughts iv his bein turned into a pinkeen, and begged
for mercy ; and with that says the lady :
"Renounce your evil coorses," says she, "you villain,
or you ll repint it too late; be a good man for the
futhur, and go to your duty * reg lar, and now/ says
she, "take me back and put me into the river again,
where you found me."
"Oh, my lady," says the sojer, "how could I have the
heart to drown d a beautiful lady like you?"
But before he could say another word, the lady was
vanished, and there he saw the little throut an the
ground. Well, he put it in a clean plate, and away he
runs for the bare life, for fear her lover would come
while she was away; and he run, and he run, even till
he came to the cave agin, and threw the throut into
the river. The minit he did, the wather was as red as
blood for a little while, by rayson av the cut, I suppose,
until the sthrame washed the stain away; and to this
day there s a little red mark an the throut s side, where
it was cut.f
Well, sir, from that day out the sojer was an altered
man, and reformed his ways, and went to his duty
reg lar, and fasted three times a-week though it was
never fish he tuk an fastin days; for afther the fright
he got, fish id never rest an his stomach savin your
presence.
But anyhow, he was an altered man, as I said before,
and in coorse o time he left the army, and turned her
mit at last; and they say he used to pray evermore for
the soul of the White Throut.
* The Irish peasant calls his attendance at the confes
sional "going to his duty."
t The fish has really a red spot on its side.
40 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
[These trout stories are common all over Ireland. Many
holy wells are haunted by such blessed trout. There is a
trout in a well on the border of Lough Gill, Sligo, that some
paganish person put once on the gridiron. It carries the
marks to this day. Long ago, the saint who sanctified the
well put that trout there. Nowadays it is only visible to
the pious, who have done due penance.]
THE FAIRY THORN
An Ulster Ballad
SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON"
"GET up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning-
wheel ;
For your father s on the hill, and your mother is
asleep ;
Come up above the crags, and we ll dance a highland-
reel
Around the fairy thorn on the steep."
At Anna Grace s door twas thus the maidens cried,
Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;
And Anna laid the rock and the weary wheel aside,
The fairest of the four, I ween.
They re glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,
Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare ;
The heavy-sliding stream in its sleepy song they leave,
And the crags in the ghostly air:
And linking hand in hand, and singing as they go,
The maids along the hill-side have ta en their fearless
way,
Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty
grow
Beside the Fairy Hawthorn gray.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 41
The Hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,
Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her
knee;
The rowan berries cluster o er her low head gray and
dim
In ruddy kisses sweet to see.
The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,
Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,
And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,
Oh, never caroll d bird like them !
But solemn is the silence of the silvery haze
That drinks away their voices in echoless repose,
And dreamily the evening has still d the haunted braes,
And dreamier the gloaming grows.
And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the sky
When the falcon s shadow saileth across the open
shaw,
Are hush d the maiden s voices, as cowering down they
lie
In the flutter of their sudden awe.
For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath,
And from the mountain-ashes and the old White
thorn between,
A Power of faint enchantment doth through their beings
breathe,
And they sink down together on the green.
They sink together silent, and stealing side by side,
They fling their lovely arms o er their drooping necks
so fair,
Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,
For their shrinking necks again are bare.
42 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Thus clasp d and prostrate all, with their heads together
bow d,
Soft o er their bosom s beating the only human
sound
They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,
Like a river in the air, gliding round.
No scream can any raise, no prayer can any say,
But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three
For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,
By whom they dare not look to see.
They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of
gold,
And the curls elastic falling as her head withdraws;
They feel her sliding arms from their tranced arms
unfold,
But they may not look to see the cause :
For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment lies
Through all that night of anguish and perilous
amaze;
And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering
eyes,
Or their limbs from the cold ground raise,
Till out of night the earth has roll d her dewy side,
With every haunted mountain and streamy vale
below ;
When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning tide,
The maidens trance dissolveth so.
Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,
And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in
vain
They pined away and died within the year and day,
And ne er was Anna Grace seen again.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 43
THE LEGEND OF KNOCKGKAFTON
T. CROETON CROKER
THERE was once a poor man who lived in the fertile
glen of Aherlow, at the foot of the gloomy Galtee
mountains, and he had a great hump on his back : he
looked just as if his body had been rolled up and placed
upon his shoulders; and hia head was pressed down
with the weight so much that his chin, when he was
sitting, used to rest upon his knees for support. The
country people were rather shy of meeting him in any
lonesome place, for though, poor creature, he was as
.harmless and as inoffensive as a new-born infant, yet
his deformity was so great that he scarcely appeared
to be a human creature, and some ill-minded persons
bad set strange stories about him afloat. He was said
to have a great knowledge of herbs and charms; but
certain it was that he had a mighty skilful hand in
plaiting straws and rushes into hats and baskets, which
was the way he made his livelihood.
JLusmore, for that was the nickname put upon him
by reason of his always wearing a sprig of the fairy
cap, or lusmore (the foxglove), in his little straw hat,
would ever get a higher penny for his plaited work
than any one else, and perhaps that was the reason why
some one, out of envy, had circulated the strange stories
about him. Be that as it may, it happened that he was
returning one evening from the pretty town of Cahir
toward Cappagh, and as little Lusmore walked very
slowly, on account of the great hump upon his back,
it was quite dark when he came to the old moat of
Knockgrafton, which stood on the right-hand side of hi?
road.
Tired and weary was he, and noways comfort
able in his own mind at thinking how much farther
he had to travel, and that hft should be walking all the
44 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
night; so he sat down under the moat to rest himself,
and began looking mournfully enough upon the moon,
which
"Rising in clouded majesty, at length
Apparent Queen, unveil d her peerless light,
And o er the dark her silver mantle threw."
Presently there rose a wild strain of unearthly mel
ody upon the ear of little Lusmore; he listened, and he
thought that he had never heard such ravishing music
before. It was like the sound of many voices, each
mingling and blending with the other so strangely that
they seemed to be one, though all singing different
strains, and the words of the song were these :
Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort;
when there would be a moment s pause, and then the
round of melody went on again.
Lusmore listened attentively, scarcely drawing his
breath lest he might lose the slightest note. He now
plainly perceived that the singing was within the moat;
and though at first it had charmed him so much, he be
gan to get tired of hearing the same round sung over
and over so often without any change ; so availing him
self of the pause when Da Luan, Da Mort, had been
sung three times, he took up the tune, and raised it with
the words augus Da Dardeen, and then went on sing
ing with the voices inside of the moat, Da Luan, Da
Mort, finishing the melody, when the pause again came,
with augus Da Dardeen.
The fairies within Knockgrafton, for the song was a
fairy melody, when they heard this addition to the
tune, were so much delighted that, with instant resolve,
it was determined to bring the mortal among them,
whose musical skill so far exceeded theirs, and little
Lusmore was conveyed into their company with the
eddying speed of a whirlwind.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 45
Glorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him
as he came down through the moat, twirling round and
round, with the lightness of a straw, to the sweetest
music that kept time to his motion. The greatest honor
was then paid him, for he was put above all the musi
cians, and he had servants tending upon him, and every
thing to his heart s content, and a hearty welcome to
all; and, in short, he was made as much of as if he had
been the first man in the land.
Presently Lusmore saw a great consultation going
forward among the fairies, and, notwithstanding all
their civility, he felt very much frightened, until one
stepping out from the rest came up to him and said :
"Lusmore ! Lusmore !
Doubt not, nor deplore,
For the hump which you bore
On your back is no more ;
Look down on the floor,
And view it, Lusmore!"
When these words were said, poor little Lusmore felt
himself so light, and so happy, that he thought he
could have bounded at one jump over the moon, like
the cow in the history of the cat and the fiddle ; and he
saw, with inexpressible pleasure, his hump tumble down
upon the ground from his shoulders. He then tried to
lift up his head, and he did so with becoming caution,
fearing that he might knock it against the ceiling of the
grand hall, where he was; he looked round and round
again with the greatest wonder and delight upon every
thing, which appeared more and more beautiful; and,
overpowered at beholding such a resplendent scene, his
head grew dizzy, and his eyesight became dim. At last
he fell into a sound sleep, and when he awoke he found
that it was broad daylight, the sun shining brightly, and
the birds singing sweetly ; and that he was lying just at
the foot of the moat of Knockgrafton, with the cows
46 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
and sheep grazing peaceably round about him. The first
thing Lusmore did, after saying his prayers, was to put
his hand behind to feel for his hump, but no sign of
one was there on his back, and he looked at himself with
great pride, for he had now become a well-shaped, dap
per little fellow, and more than that, found himself in a
full suit of new clothes, which he concluded the fairies
had made for him.
Toward Cappagh he went, stepping out as lightly, and
springing up at every step as if he had been all his life
a dancing-master. Not a creature who met Lusmore
knew him without his hump, and he had a great work
to persuade every one that he was the same man in
truth he was not, so far as the outward appearance
went.
Of course it was not long before the story of Lus-
more s hump got about, and a great wonder was made
of it. Through the country, for miles round, it was
the talk of every one, high and low.
One morning, as Lusmore was sitting contented
enough at his cabin door, up came an old woman to him,
and asked him if he could direct her to Cappagh.
"I need give you no directions, my good woman,"
said Lusmore, "for this is Cappagh ; and whom may you
want here?"
"I have .come," said the woman, "out of Decie s coun
try, in the county of Waterford, looking after one Lus
more, who, I have heard tell, had his hump taken off
by the fairies; for there is a son of a gossip of mine
who has got a hump on him that will be his death ; and
maybe, if he could use the same charm as Lusmore,
the hump may be taken off him. And now I have told
you the reason of my coming so far: tis to find out
about this charm, if I can/
Lusmore, who was ever a good-natured little fellow,
told the woman all the particulars, how he had raised
the tune for the fairies at Knockgrafton, how his hump
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 47
had been removed from his shoulders, and how he had
got a new suit of clothes into the bargain.
The woman thanked him very much, and then went
away quite happy and easy in her own mind. When she
came back to her gossip s house, in the county of Water-
ford, she told her everything that Lusmore had said,
and they put the little hump-backed man, who was a
peevish and cunning creature from his birth, upon a car,
and took him all the way across the country. It was a
long journey, but they did not care for that, so the
hump was taken from off him; and they brought him,
just at nightfall, and left him under the old moat of
Knockgrafton.
Jack Madden, for that was the humpy man s name,
had not been sitting there long when he heard the tune
going on within the moat much sweeter than before ; for
the fairies were singing it the way Lusmore had settled
their music for them, and the song was going on: Da
Luan, Da Mori, Da Luan, Da Mori, Da Luan, Da
Mort, augus Da Dardeen, without ever stopping. Jack
Madden, who was in a great hurry to get quit of his
hump, never thought of waiting until the fairies had
done, or watching for a fit opportunity to raise the tune
higher again than Lusmore had; so having heard them
sing it over seven times without stopping, out he bawls,
never minding the time or the humor of the tune, or how
he could bring his words in properly, augus Da Dardeen,
augus Da Hena, thinking that if one day was good, two
were better; and that if Lusmore had one new suit of
clothes given him, he should have two.
No sooner had the words passed his lips than he was
taken up and whisked into the moat with prodigious
force; and the fairies came crowding round about him
with great anger, screeching and screaming, and roaring
out:
"Who spoiled our tune? Who spoiled our tune?"
and one stepped up to him above all the rest, and said :
48 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Jack Madden! Jack Madden!
Your words came so bad in
The tune we felt glad in;
This castle you re had in,
That your life we may sadden ;
Here s two humps for Jack Madden!"
And twenty of the strongest fairies brought Lusmore s
hump, and put it down upon poor Jack s back, over his
own, where it became fixed as firmly as if it was nailed
on with twelve-penny nails, by the best carpenter that
ever drove one. Out of their castle they then kicked
him; and in the morning, when Jack Madden s mother
and her gossip came to look after their little man, they
found him half dead, lying at the foot of the moat,
with the other hump upon his back. Well to be sure,
how they did look at each other ! but they were afraid
to say anything, lest a hump might be put upon their
own shoulders. Home they brought the unlucky Jack
Madden with them, as downcast in their hearts and their
looks as ever two gossips were; and what through the
weight of his other hump, and the long journey, he died
soon after, leaving, they say, his heavy curse to any one
who would go to listen to fairy tunes again.
A DONEGAL FAIBY
LETITIA MACLINTOCK
AY, it s a bad thing to displeasure the gentry, sure
enough they can be unfriendly if they re angered, an
they can be the very best o gude neighbors if they re
treated kindly.
My mother s sister was her lone, in the house one day,
wi a big pot o water boiling on the fire, and ane o the
wee folk fell down the chimney, and slipped wi his leg
in the hot water.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 49
He let a terrible squeal out o him, an in a minute the
house was full o wee crathurs pulling him out o the
pot, an carrying him across the floor.
"Did she scald you?" my aunt heard them saying to
him.
"ISTa, na, it was mysel scalded my ainsel ," quoth the
wee fellow.
"A weel, a weel," says they. "If it was your ainsel
scalded yoursel , we ll say nothing, but if she had scalded
you, we d ha made her pay."
THE TROOPING FAIRIES
CHANGELINGS
SOMETIMES the fairies fancy mortals, and carry them
away into their own country, leaving instead some sickly
fairy child, or a log of wood so bewitched that it seems
to be a mortal pining away, and dying, and being buried.
Most commonly they steal children. If you "over look
a child," that is look on it with envy, the fairies have it
in their power. Many things can be done to find out
in a child a changeling, but there is one infallible thing
lay it on the fire with this formula, "Burn, burn,
burn if of the devil, burn; but if of God and the
saints, be safe from harm" (given by Lady Wilde).
Then if it be a changeling it will rush up the chimney
with a cry, for, according to Giraldus Cambrensis, "fire
is the greatest of enemies to every sort of phantom, in
so much that those who have seen apparitions fall into
a swoon as soon as they are sensible of the brightness
of fire."
Sometimes the creature is got rid of in a more gentle
way. It is on record that once when a mother was
leaning over a wizened changeling the latch lifted and
a fairy carne in, carrying home again the wholesome
stolen baby. "It was the others," she said, "who stole
it." As for her, she wanted her own child.
Those who are carried away are happy, according to
some accounts, having plenty of good living and music
and mirth. Others say, however, that they are continu
ally longing for their earthly friends. Lady Wilde gives
a gloomy tradition that there are two kinds of fairies
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 51
one kind merry and gentle, the other evil, and sacri
ficing every year a life to Satan, for which purpose they
steal mortals. No other Irish writer gives this tradition
if such fairies there be, they must be among the soli
tary spirits Pookas, Fir Darrigs, and the like.
THE BREWERY OF EGG-SHELLS
T. CROFTON CHOKER
MRS. SULLIVAN fancied that her youngest child had
been exchanged by "fairies theft/ and certainly appear
ances warranted such a conclusion ; for in one night her
healthy, blue-eyed boy had become shrivelled up into
almost nothing, and never ceased squalling and crying.
This naturally made poor Mrs. Sullivan very unhappy;
and all the neighbors, by way of comforting her, said
that her own child was, beyond any kind of doubt, with
the good people, and that one of themselves was put in
his place.
Mrs. Sullivan of course could not disbelieve what
every one told her, but she did not wish to hurt the
thing; for although its face was so withered, and its
body wasted away to a mere skeleton, it had still a
strong resemblance to her own boy. She, therefore,
could not find it in her heart to roast it alive on the
griddle, or to burn its nose off with the red-hot tongs,
or to throw it out in the snow on the road-side, not
withstanding these, and several like proceedings, were
strongly recommended to her for the recovery of her
child.
One day who should Mrs. Sullivan meet but a cunning
woman, well known about the country by the name of
Ellen Leah (or Gray Ellen). She had the gift, how
ever she got it, of telling where the dead were, and what
was good for the rest of their souls; and could charm
52 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
away warts and wens, and do a great many wonderful
things of the same nature.
"You re in grief this morning, Mrs. Sullivan," were
the first words of Ellen Leah to her.
"You may say that, Ellen/ said Mrs. Sullivan, "and
good cause I have to be in grief, for there was my own
fine child whipped off from me out of his cradle, with
out as much as *by your leave* or ask your pardon/
$tnd an ugly dony bit of a shrivelled-up fairy put in
iis place; no wonder, then, that you see me in grief,
Ellen."
"Small blame to you, Mrs. Sullivan," said Ellen Leah,
"but are you sure tis a fairy?"
"Sure !" echoed Mrs. Sullivan, "sure enough I am to
my sorrow, and can I doubt my own two eyes? Every
mother s soul must feel for me !"
"Will you take an old woman s advice?" said Ellen,
Leah, fixing her wild and mysterious gaze upon the un-
Jbtappy mother; and, after a pause, she added, "but
maybe you ll call it foolish ?"
"Can you get me back my child, my own child,
Ellen ?" said Mrs. Sullivan with great energy.
"If you do as I bid you," returned Ellen Leah, "youll
know." Mrs. Sullivan was silent in expectation, and
Ellen continued. "Put down the big pot, full of water,
on the fire, and make it boil like mad; then get a dozen
new-laid eggs, break them, and keep the shells, but
throw away the rest; when that is done, put the shells
in the pot of boiling water, and you will soon know
yhether it is your own boy or a fairy. If you find that
it is a fairy in the cradle, take the red-hot poker and
cram it down his ugly throat, and you will not have
much trouble with him after that, I promise you."
Home went Mrs. Sullivan, and did as Ellen Leah
desired. She put the pot on the fire, and plenty of
turf under it and set the water boiling at such a rate,
that if ever water was red-hot, it surely was.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 53
The child was lying, for a wonder, quite easy and
quiet in the cradle, every now and then cocking his
eye, that would twinkle as keen as a star in a frosty
night, over at the great fire, and the big pot upon it;
and he looked on with great attention at Mrs. Sullivan
breaking the eggs and putting down the egg-shells to
boil. At last he asked, with the voice of a very old man,
"What are you doing, mammy ?"
Mrs. Sullivan s heart, as she said herself, was up in
her mouth ready to choke her, at hearing the child
speak. But she contrived to put the poker in the fire,
and to answer, without making any wonder at the words,
"I m brewing, a vick" (my son).
"And what are you brewing, mammy ?" said the little
imp, whose supernatural gift of speech now proved be
yond question that he was a fairy substitute.
"I wish the poker was red," thought Mrs. Sullivan;
but it was a large one, and took a long time heating;
so she determined to keep him in talk until the poker
was in a proper state to thrust down his throat, and
therefore repeated the question.
"Is it what I m brewing, a vick" said she, "you want
to know?"
"Yes, mammy : what are you brewing ?" returned the
fairy.
"Egg-shells, a vide" said Mrs., Sullivan.
"Oh !" sTirieked the imp, starting up in the cradle
and clapping his hands together, "I m fifteen hundred
years in the world, and I never saw a brewery of egg
shells before !" The poker was by this time quite red,
and Mrs. Sullivan, seizing it, ran furiously towards the
cradle; but somehow or other her foot slipped, and she
fell flat on the floor, and the poker flew out of her
hand to the other end of the house. However, she got
up without much loss of time and went to the cradle,
intending to pitch the wicked thing that was in it into
the pot of boiling water, when there she saw her own
54 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
child in a sweet sleep, one of his soft round arms rested
upon the pillow his features were as placid as if their
repose had never been disturbed, save the rosy mouth,
which moved with a gentle and regular breathing.
THE FAIRY NURSE
BY EDWAKD WALSH
SWEET babe ! a golden cradle holds thee,
And soft the snow-white fleece enfolds thee;
In airy bower I ll watch thy sleeping,
Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping.
Shuheen, sho, lulo lo !
"When mothers languish broken-hearted,
When young wives are from husbands parted,
Ah ! little think the keeners lonely,
They weep some time-worn fairy only.
Shuheen, sho, lulo lo !
Within our magic halls of brightness,
Trips many a foot of snowy whiteness ;
Stolen maidens, queens of fairy
And kings and chiefs a sluagh-shee airy.
Shuheen, sho, lulo lo !
Rest thee, babe ! I love thee dearly,
And as thy mortal mother nearly ;
Ours is the swiftest steed and proudest,
That moves where the tramp of the host is loudest.
Shuheen, sho, lulo lo !
Rest thee, babe ! for soon thy slumbers
Shall flee at the magic koelshie s* numbers ;
In airy bower I ll watch thy sleeping,
Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping.
Shuheen, sho, lulo lo !
* Cedl-sidhe i. e., fairy music.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 55
JAMIE FKEEL AND THE YOUNG LADY
A Donegal Tale
MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK
DOWN in Fannet, in times gone by, lived Jamie Freel
and his mother. Jamie was the widow s sole support;
his strong arm worked for her untiringly, and as each
Saturday night came around, he poured his wages into
her lap, thanking her dutifully for the halfpence which
she returned him for tobacco.
He was extolled by his neighbors as the best son ever
known or heard of. But he had neighbors of whose
opinion he was ignorant neighbors who lived pretty
close to him, whom he had never seen, who are, indeed,
rarely seen by mortals, except on May eves and Hal-
loweens.
An old ruined castle, about a quarter of a mile from
his cabin, was said to be the abode of the "wee folk."
Every Halloween were the ancient windows lighted up,
and passers-by saw little figures flitting to and fro inside
the building, while they heard the music of pipes and
flutes.
It was well known that fairy revels took place; but
nobody had the courage to intrude on them.
Jamie had often watched the little figures from a
distance, and listened to the charming music, wonder
ing what the inside of the castle was like ; but one Hal
loween he got up and took his cap, saying to his mother,
"I m awa to the castle to seek my fortune."
"What!" cried she, "would you venture there? you
that s the poor widow s one son ! Dinna be sae venture
some an foolitch, Jamie! They ll kill you, an then
what ll come o me ?"
"Never fear, mother; nae harm ill happen me, but I
maun gae."
56 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
He set out, and as he crossed the potato-field, came
>n sight of the castle, whose windows were ablaze with
fight, that seemed to turn the russet leaves, still clinging
to the crabtree branches, into gold.
Halting in the grove at one side of the ruin, he
listened to the elfin revelry, and the laughter and sing
ing made him all the more determined to proceed.
Numbers of little people, the largest about the size of
a child of five years old, were dancing to the music of
flutes and fiddles, while others drank and feasted.
"Welcome, Jamie Freel! welcome, welcome., Jamie ! ;J
cried the company, perceiving their visitor. The word
"Welcome" was caught up and repeated by every voice
in the castle.
Time flew, and Jamie was enjoying himself very
much, when his hosts said, "We re going to ride to
Dublin to-night to steal a young lady. Will you come
too. Jamie Freel ?"
"Ay, that will 1 1" cried the rash youth, thirsting for
adventure.
A troop of horses stood at the door. Jamie mounted,
and his steed rose with him into the air. He was
presently flying over his mother s cottage, surrounded
by the elfin troop, and on and on they went, over bold
mountains, over little hills, over the deep Lough Swilley,
over towns and cottages, when people were burning
nuts, and eating apples, and keeping merry Halloween.
It seemed to Jamie that they flew all round Ireland
before they got to Dublin.
"This is Derry," said the fairies, flying over the
cathedral spire; and what was said by one voice was
repeated by all the rest, till fifty little voices were cry
ing out, "Derry ! Derry ! Derry !"
In like manner was Jamie informed as they passed
over each town on the rout, and at length he heard the
silvery voices cry, "Dublin ! Dublin !"
It was no mean dwelling that was to be honored by
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 57
the fairy visit, but one of the finest houses in Stephen s
Green.
The troop dismounted near a window, and Jamie saw
a beautiful face, on a pillow in a splendid bed. He
saw the young lady lifted and carried away, while the
stick which was dropped in her place on the bed took
her exact form.
The lady was placed before one rider and carried a
short way, then given another, and the names of the
towns were cried out as before.
They were approaching home. Jamie heard "Rath-
mullan," "Milford," "Tamney," and then he knew they
were near his own house.
"You ve all had your turn at carrying the young
lady," said he. "Why wouldn t I get her for a wee
piece ?"
"Ay, Jamie," replied they, pleasantly, "you may take
your turn at carrying her, to be sure."
Holding his prize very tightly, he dropped down near
his mother s door.
"Jamie Freel, Jamie Freel ! is that the way you treat
us?" cried they, and they too dropped down near the
door.
Jamie held fast, though he knew not what he was
holding, for the little folk turned the lady into all sorts
of strange shapes. At one moment she was a black dog,
barking and trying to bite; at another, a glowing bar
of iron, yet without heat; then, again, a sack of wool.
But still Jamie held her, and the baffled elves were
turning away, when a tiny woman, the smallest of the
party, exclaimed, "Jamie Freel has her awa frae us, but
he sail hae nae gude o her, for I ll mak her deaf and
dumb," and she threw something over the young girl.
While they rode off disappointed, Jamie lifted the
latch and went in.
"Jamie, man !" cried his mother, "you ve been awa
all night ; what have they done on you ?"
58 IRISH FAIRY AND POLK TALES
"Naething bad, mother; I ha the very best of glide
luck. Here s a beautiful young lady I ha brought you
for company."
"Bless us an save us !" exclaimed the mother, and
for some minutes she was so astonished that she could
not think of anything else to say.
Jamie told his story of the night s adventure, ending
by saying, "Surely you wouldna have allowed me to let
her gang with them to be lost forever ?"
"But a lady, Jamie ! How can a lady eat we er poor
diet, and live in we er poor way? I ax you that, you
foolitch fellow?"
"Weel, mother, sure it s better for her to be here nor
over yonder," and he pointed in the direction of the
castle.
Meanwhile, the deaf and dumb girl shivered in her
light clothing, stepping close to the humble turf fire.
"Poor crathur, she s quare and handsome! Nae
wonder they set their hearts on her," said the old
woman, gazing at her guest with pity and admiration.
"We maun dress her first ; but what, in the name o for
tune, hae I fit for the likes o her to wear ?"
She went to her press in "the room," and took out
her Sunday gown of brown drugget ; she then opened a
drawer, and drew forth a pair of white stockings, a long
snowy garment of fine linen, and a cap, her "dead
dress," as she called it.
These articles of attire had long been ready for a
certain triste ceremony, in which she would some day
fill the chief part, and only saw the light occasionally,
when they were hung out to air ; but she was willing to
give even these to the fair trembling visitor, who was
turning in dumb sorrow and wonder from her to Jamie,
and from Jamie back to her.
The poor girl suffered herself to be dressed, and then
sat down on a "creepie" in the chimney corner, and
buried her face in her hands.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 59
"What ll we do to keep up a lady like thou?" cried
the old woman.
"I ll work for you both, mother/ replied the son.
"An how could a lady live on we er poor diet?" she
repeated.
"I ll work for her," was all Jamie s answer.
He kept his word. The young lady was very sad for
a long time, and tears stole down her cheeks many an
evening while the old woman spun by the fire, and
Jamie made salmon nets, an accomplishment lately ac
quired by him, in hopes of adding to the comfort of
his guest.
But she was always gentle, and tried to smile when
she perceived them looking at her; and bv degrees she
adapted herself to their ways and mode of life. It was
not very long before she began to feed the pig, mash
potatoes "and meal for the fowls, and knit blue worsted
socks.
So a year passed, and Halloween came round again.
"Mother," said Jamie, taking down his cap, "I m off
to the ould castle to seek my fortune."
"Are you mad, Jamie?" cried his mother, in terror;
"sure they ll kill you this time for what you done on
them last year."
Jamie made light of her fears and went his way.
As he reached the crab-tree grove, he saw bright lights
in the castle windows as before, and heard loud talking.
Creeping under the window, he heard the wee folk say,
"That was a poor trick Jamie Freel played us this night
last year, when he stole the nice young lady from us."
"Ay," said the tiny woman, "an I punished him for
it, for there she sits, a dumb image by his hearth; but
he does na know that three drops out o this glass I
hold in my hand wad gie her her hearing and her
speeches back asrain."
Jamie s heart beat fast as he entered the hall. Again
he was greeted by a chorus of welcomes from the com-
60 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
pany "Here comes Jamie Freel! welcome, welcome,
Jamie \
As soon as the tumult subsided, the little woman
said, "You be to drink our health, Jamie, out o this
glass in my hand."
Jamie snatched the glass from her hand and darted
to the door. He never knew how he reached his cabin,
but he arrived there breathless, and sank on a stone by
the fire.
"You re kilt surely this time, my poor boy," said his
mother.
"No, indeed, better luck than ever this time I" and
he gave the lady three drops of the liquid that still re
mained at the bottom of the glass, notwithstanding his
mad race over the potato-field.
The lady began to speak, and her first words were
words of thanks to Jamie.
The three inmates of the cabin had so much to say to
one another, that long after cock-crow, when the fairy
music had quite ceased, they were talking round the
fire.
"Jamie," said the lady, "be pleased to get me paper
and pen and ink, that I may write to my father, and
tell him what has become of me."
She wrote, but weeks passed, and she received no
answer. Again and again she wrote, and still no answer.
At length she said, "You must come with me to Dub
lin, Jamie, to find my father."
"I ha no money to hire a car for you," he replied,
"an* how can you travel to Dublin on your foot ?"
But she implored him so much that he consented to
set out with her, and walk all the way from Fannet to
Dublin. It was not as easy as the fairy journey; but
at last they rang the bell at the door of the house in
Stephen s Green.
"Tell my father that his daughter is here," said she
to the servant who opened the door.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALE2
"The gentleman that lives here has no daugi/ri
girl. He had one, but she died better nor a yejj! {
"Do you not know me, Sullivan ?"
"No, poor girl, I do not."
"Let me see the gentleman. I only ask to see
"Well, that s not much to ax; we ll see what can bo
done."
In a few moments the lady s father came to the door.
"Dear father," said she, "don t you know me?"
"How dare you call me your father?" cried the old
gentleman, angrily. "You are an impostor. I have no
daughter."
"Look in my face, father, and surely you ll remember
me."
"My daughter is dead and buried. She died a long,
long time ago." The old gentleman s voice changed
from anger to sorrow. "You can go," he concluded.
"Stop, dear father, till you look at this ring on my
finger. Look at your name and mine engraved on it."
"It certainly is my daughter s ring; but I do not
know how you came by it. I fear in nohonest way."
"Call my mother, she will be sure to know me," said
the poor girl, who, by this time, was crying bitterly.
"My poor wife is beginning to forget her sorrow. She
seldom speaks of her daughter now. Why should I re
new her grief by reminding her of her loss ?"
But the young lady persevered, till at last the mother
was sent for.
"Mother," she began, when the old lady came to the
door, "don t you know your daughter ?"
"I have no daughter; my daughter died and was
buried a long, long time ago."
"Only look in my face, and surely you ll know me/
The old lady shook her head.
"You have all forgotten me ; but look at this mole on
my neck. Surely, mother, you know me now ?"
"Yes, yes," said the mother, "my Gracie, had a mole
62 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
on her neck like that; but then I saw her in her coffin,
and saw the lid shut down upon her."
It became Jamie s turn to speak, and he gave the
history of the fairy journey,, of the theft of the young
lady, of the figure he had seen laid in its place., of her
life with his mother in Fannet, of last Halloween, and
of the three drops that had released her from her en
chantment.
She took up the story when he paused, and told how
kind the mother and son had been to her.
The parents could not make enough of Jamie. They
treated him with every distinction, and when he ex
pressed his wish to return to Fannet, said they did not
know what to do to show their gratitude.
But an awkward complication arose. The daughter
would not let him go without her. "If Jamie goes, I ll
go too/ she said. "He saved me from the fairies, and
has worked for me ever since. If it had not been for
him, dear father and mother, you would never have seen
me again. If he goes, I ll go too."
This being her resolution, the old gentleman said that
Jamie should become his son-in-law. The mother was
brought from Fannet in a coach and four, and there
was a splendid wedding.
They all lived together in the grand Dublin house,
and Jamie was heir to untold wealth at his father-in-
law s death.
THE STOLEN CHILD
W. B. YEATS
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The drowsy water-rats.
There we ve hid our fairy vats
Full of berries,
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, human child !
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world s more full of weeping than
you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Eosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands, and mingling glances,
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap,
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles.
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away ! 0, human child !
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world s more full of weeping than
you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes,
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout,
And whispering in their ears;
We ive them evil dreams,
Leaning softly out
64 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
From ferns that drop their tears
Of dew on the young streams.
Come ! human child !
To the woods and waters wild.
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world s more full of weeping than
you can understand.
Away with us he s going,
The solemn-eyed;
He ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hill-side.
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast;
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world s more full of weeping than
he can understand.
THE TROOPING FAIRIES
THE MERKOW
The Merroiv, or if you write it in the Irish, Moruadfi oe
Murrughach, from muir, sea, and oiyJi, a maid, is not un
common, they say, on the wilder coasts. The fishermen do
not like to see them, for it always means coming gales. The
male Merroics (if you can use such a phrase I have never
heard the masculine of Merroiv) have green teeth, green
hair, pig s eyes, and red noses ; nut their women are beauti
ful, for all their fish tails and the little duck-like scale be
tween their fingers. Sometimes they prefer, small blame to
them, good-looking fishermen to their sea lovers. Near
Bantry, in the last century, there is said to have been a
woman covered all over with scales like a fish, who was
descended from such a marriage. Sometimes they come out
of the sea, and wander about the shore in the shape of little
hornless cows. They have, when in their own shape, a red
cap, called a cohullen druith, usually covered with feathers.
If this is stolen, they cannot again go down under the
waves.
Red is the color of magic in every country, and has been so
from the very earliest times. The caps of fairies and
magicians are well-nigh always red.
THE SOUL CAGES
T. CROFTON" CHOKER
JACK DOGHERTY lived on the coast of the county
Clare. Jack was a fisherman, as his father and grand
father before him had been. Like them, too, he lived
66 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
all alone (but for the wife), and just in the same spot.
People used to wonder why the Dogherty family were so
fond of that wild situation, so far away from all human
kind, and in the midst of huge shattered rocks, with
nothing but the wide ocean- to look upon. But they had
their own good reasons for it.
The place was just the only spot on that part of the
coast where anybody could well live. There was a neat
little creek, where a boat might lie as snug as a puffin
in her nest, and out from this creek a ledge of sunken
rocks ran inta the sea. Now when the Atlantic, accord
ing to custom, was raging wHh a storm, and a good
westerly wind was blowing strong on the coast, many
a richly-laden ship went to pieces on these rocks; and
then the fine bales of cotton and tobacco, and such like
things, and the pipes of wine, and the puncheons of
rum, and the casks of brandy, and the kegs of Hollands
that used to come ashore ! Dunbeg bay was just like a
little estate to the Doghertys.
Not but they were kind and humane to a distressed
sailor, if ever one had the good luck to get to land ; and
many a time indeed did Jack put out in his little
corragh (which, though not quite equal to honest
Andrew Hennessy s canvas life-boat, would breast the
billows like any gannet), to lend a hand toward bring
ing off the crew from a wreck. But when the ship had
gone to pieces, and the crew were all lost, who would
blame Jack for picking up all he could find?
"And who is the worse of it?" said he. "For as to
the king, God bless him ! everybody knows he s rich
enough already without getting what s floating in the
sea/
Jack, though such a hermit, was a good-natured, jolly
fellow. No other, sure, could ever have coaxed Biddy
Mahony to quit her father s snug and warm house in
the middle of the town of Ennis, and to go so many
miles off to live among the rocks, with the seals and sea-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 67
gulls for next-door neighbors. But Biddy knew that
Jack was the man for a woman who wished to be com
fortable and happy ; for, to say nothing of the fish, Jack
had the supplying of half the gentlemen s houses of
the country with the Godsends that came into the bay.
And she was right in her choice; for no woman ate,
drank, or slept better, or made a prouder appearance at
chapel on Sundays, than Mrs. Dogherty.
Many a strange sight, it may well be supposed, did
Jack see, and many a strange sound did he hear, but
nothing daunted him. So far was he from being afraid
of Merrows, or such beings, that the very first wish of
his heart was to fairly meet with one. Jack had heard
that they were mighty like Christians, and that luck
had always come out of an acquaintance with them.
Never, therefore, did he dimly discern the Merrows
moving along the face of the waters in their robes of
mist, but he made direct for them; and many a scold
ing did Biddy, in her own quiet way, bestow upon Jack
for spending his whole day out at sea, and bringing
home no fish. Little did poor Biddy know the fish Jack
was after!
It was rather annoying to Jack that, though living in
a place where the Merrows were as plenty as lobsters,
he never could get a right view of one. What vexed
him more was that both his father and grandfather had
often and often seen them; and he even remembered
hearing, when a child, how his grandfather, who was
the first of the family that had settled down at the
creek, had been so intimate with a Merrow that, only for
fear of vexing the priest, he would have had him stand
for one of his children. This, however, Jack did not
well know how to believe.
Fortune at length began to think that it was only
right that Jack should know as much as his father and
grandfather did. Accordingly, one day when he had
strolled a little farther than usual along the coast to
o8 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
the northward, just as he turned a point, he saw some
thing, like to nothing he had ever seen before, perched
upon a rock at a little distance out to sea. It looked
green in the body, as well as he could discern at that
distance, and he would have sworn, only the thing was
impossible, that it had a cocked hat in its hand. Jack
stood for a good half -hour straining his eyes, and won
dering at it, and all the time the thing did not stir hand
or foot. At last Jack s patience was quite worn out,
and he gave a loud whistle and a hail, when the Merrow
(for such it was) started up, put the cocked hat on its
head, and dived down, head foremost, from the rock.
Jack s curiosity was now excited, and he constantly
directed his steps toward the point; still he could never
get a glimpse of the sea-gentleman with the cocked hat;
and with thinking and thinking about the matter, he
began at last to fancy he had been only dreaming. One
very rough day, however, when the sea was running
mountains high, Jack Dogherty determined to give a
look at the Merrow s rock (for he had always chosen a
fine day before), and then he saw the strange thing
cutting capers upon the top of the rock, and then diving
down, and then coming up, and then diving down again.
Jack had now only to choose his time (that is, a good
blowing day), and he might see the man of the sea as
often as he pleased. All this, however, did not satisfy
him "much will have more"; he wished now to get
acquainted with the Merrow, and even in this he suc
ceeded. One tremendous blustering day, before he got
to the point whence he had a view of the Merrow s rock,
the storm came on so furiously that Jack was obliged
to take shelter in one of the caves which are so numer
ous along the coast; and there, to his astonishment, he
saw sitting before him a thing with green hair, long
green teeth, a red nose, and pig s eyes. It had a fish s
tail, legs with scales on them, and short arms like fins.
It wore no clothes, but had the cocked hat under its
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 6&
arm, and seemed engaged thinking very seriously about
something.
Jack,, with all his courage, was a little daunted; but
now or never, thought he; so up he went boldly to the
cogitating fishman, took off his hat, and made his best
bow.
"Your servant, sir/ said Jack.
"Your servant, kindly, Jack Dogherty," answered the
Merrow.
"To be sure, then, how well your honor knows my
name I" said Jack.
"Is it I not know your name, Jack Dogherty? "Why,
man, I knew your grandfather long before he was mar
ried to Judy Regan, your grandmother ! Ah, Jack,
Jack, I was fond of that grandfather of yours; he was
a mighty worthy man in his time : I never met his match
above or below, before or since, for sucking in a shellful
of brandy. I hope, my boy/ said the old fellow, with a
merry twinkle in his eyes, "I hope you re his own grand
son !"
"Never fear me for that," said Jack ; "if my mother
had only reared me on brandy, tis myself that would
be a sucking infant to this hour !"
"Well, I like to hear you talk so manly; you and I
must be better acquainted, if it were only for your
grandfather s sake. But, Jack, that father of yours was
not the thing ! he had no head at all."
"I m sure," said Jack, "since your honor lives down
under the water, you must be obliged to drink a power
to keep any heat in you in such a cruel, damp, could
place. Well, I ve often heard of Christians drinking
like fishes ; and might I be so bold as ask where you get
the spirits ?"
"Where do you get them yourself, Jack?" said the
Merrow, twitching his red nose between his forefinger
and thumb.
"Hubbubboo," cries Jack, "now I see how it is ; but I
70 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
suppose, sir, your honor has got a fine dry cellar below
to keep them in."
"Let me alone for the cellar," said the Merrow, with
a knowing wink of his left eye.
"I m sure/ continued Jack, "it must be mighty well
worth the looking at."
"You may say that, Jack," said the Merrow; "and if
you meet me here next Monday, just at this time of the
day, we will have a little more talk with one another
about the matter."
Jack and the Merrow parted the best friends in the
world. On Monday they met, and Jack was not a little
surprised to see that the Merrow had two cocked hats
with him, one under each arm.
"Might I take the liberty to ask, sir," said Jack, "why
your honor has brought the two hats with you to-day?
You would not, sure, be going to give me one of them,
to keep for the curiosity of the thing?"
"No, no, Jack," said he, "I don t get my hats so
easily, to part with them that way; but I want you to
come down and dine with me, and I brought you the
hat to dine with."
"Lord bless and preserve us !" cried Jack, in amaze
ment, "would you want me to go down to the bottom
of the salt sea ocean? Sure, I d be smothered and
choked up with the water, to say nothing of being
drowned ! And what would poor Biddy do for me, and
what would she say ?"
"And what matter what she says, you pirikeen ? Who
cares for Biddy s squalling? It s long before your
grandfather would have talked in that way. Many s
the time he stuck that same hat on his head, and dived
down boldly after me; and many s the snug bit of
dinner and good shellful of brandy he and I have had
together below, under the water."
"Is it really, sir, and no joke?" said Jack; "why,
then, sorrow from me for ever and a day after, if I ll be
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 71
a bit worse man nor my grandfather was ! Here goes
but play me fair now. Here s neck or nothing !" cried
Jack.
"That s your grandfather all over," said the old fel
low; "so come along, then, and do as I do."
They both left the cave, walked into the sea, and then
swam a piece until they got to the rock. The Merrow
climbed to the top of it, and Jack followed him. On the
far side it was as straight as the wall of a house, and
the sea beneath looked so deep that Jack was almost
cowed.
"Now, do you see, Jack/ said the Merrow : "just put
this hat on your head, and mind to keep your eyes wide
open. Take hold of my tail, and follow after me, and
you ll see what you ll see."
In he dashed, and in dashed Jack after him boldly.
They went and they went, and Jack thought they d
never stop going. Many a time did he wish himself
sitting at home by the fireside with Biddy. Yet where
was the use of wishing now, when he was so many miles,
as he thought, below the waves of the Atlantic? Still
he held hard by the Merrow s tail, slippery as it was;
and, at last, to Jack s great surprise, they got out of the
water, and he actually found himself on dry land at the
bottom of the sea. They landed just in front of a nice
house that was slated very neatly with oyster shells !
And the Merrow, turning about to Jack, welcomed him
down.
Jack could hardly speak, what with wonder, and what
with being out of breath with traveling so fast through
the water. He looked about him and could see no living
things, barring crabs and lobsters, of which there were
plenty walking leisurely about on the sand. Overhead
was the sea like a sky, and the fishes like birds swim
ming about in it.
"Why don t you speak, man?" said the Merrow: "I
dare say you had no notion that I had such a snug little
72 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
concern here as this? Are you smothered, or choked,
or drowned, or are you fretting after Biddy, eh ?"
"Oh! not myself, indeed," said Jack, showing his
teeth with a good-humored grin ; "but who in the world
would ever have thought of seeing such a thing ?"
"Well, come along, and let s see what they ve got for
us to eat?"
Jack really was hungry, and it gave him no small
pleasure to perceive a fine column of smoke rising from
the chimney, announcing what was going on within.
Into the house he followed the Merrow, and there he
saw a good kitchen, right well provided with every
thing.
There was a nable dresser, and plenty of pots
and pans, with two young Merrows cooking. His host
then led him into the room, which was furnished shab
bily enough. Not a table or a chair was there in it;
nothing but planks and logs of wood to sit on, and eat
off. There was, however, a good fire blazing upon the
hearth a comfortable sight to Jack.
"Come now, and I ll show you where I keep you
know what," said the Merrow, with a sly look ; and open
ing a little door, he led Jack* into a fine cellar, well
filled with, pipes, and kegs, and hogsheads, and barrels.
"What do you say to that, Jack Dogherty ? Eh !
may be a body can t live snug under the water ?"
"Never the doubt of that," said Jack, with a con
vincing smack of his- under lip, that he really thought
what he said.
They went back to the room, and found dinner laid.
There was no tablecloth, to be sure but what matter?
It was not always Jack had one at home. The dinner
would have been no discredit to the first house of the
country on a fast day. The choicest of fish, and no
wonder, was there. Turbots, and sturgeons, and soles,
and lobsters, and oysters, and twenty other kinds, were
on the planks at once, and plenty of the best of foreign
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 73
spirits. The wines, the old fellow said, were too
for his stomach.
Jack ate and drank till he could eat no more; then,
taking up a shell of brandy, "Here s to your honor s
good health, sir," said he ; "though, begging your par
don, it s mighty odd that as lo*^ as we ve been ac
quainted I don t know your name yet."
"That s true, Jack," replied he; "I never thought of
it before, but better late than never. My name s
Coomara."
"And a mighty decent name it is," cried Jack, taking
another shellful: "hereV, to your good health, Coomara,
and may ye live these iifty years to come !"
"Fifty years!" repeated Coomara; "I m obliged to
you, indeed ! If you had said five hundred, it would
have been something worth the wishing."
"By the laws, sir," cries Jack, "youz live to a power
ful age here under the water ! You knew my grand
father, and he s dead and gone better than these sixtj
years. I m sure it must be a happy place to live in."
"No doubt of it; but come, Jack, keep the liquor
stirring."
Shell after shell did they empty, and to Jack s ex
ceeding surprise, he found the drink never got into his
head, owing, I suppose, to the sea being over them,
which kept their noddles cool.
Old Coomara got exceedingly comfortable, and sung
several songs; but Jack, if his life had depended on it,
never could remember more than
"Rum fum "boodle boo,
Ripple dipple nitty dob;
Dumdoo doodle coo,
Raffle taffle chittiboo!"
It was the chorus to one of them; and, to say the
truth, nobody that I know has ever been able to pick
any particular meaning out of it; but that, to be sure,
is the case with many a song nowadays.
74 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
At length said he to Jack, "Now, my dear boy, if you
follow me, I ll show you my curiosities!" He opened a
little door, and led Jack into a large room, where Jack
saw a great many odds and ends that Coomara had
picked up at one time or another. What chiefly took
his attention, however, were things like lobster-pots
ranged on the ground along the wall.
"Well, Jack, how do you like my curiosities ?" said
old Coo.
"Upon my sowkins,* sir," said Jack, "they re mighty
well worth the looking at; but might I make so bold
as to ask what these things like lobster-pots are?"
"Oh! the Soul Cages, is it?"
"The what? sir!"
"These things here that I keep the souls in."
"Arrwli! what souls, sir?" said Jack, in amazement;
"sure the fish have no souls in them ?"
"Oh ! no," replied Coo, quite- coolly, "that they have
not; but these are the souls of drowned sailors."
"The Lord preserve us- from all harm !" muttered
Jack, "how in the world did you get them ?"
"Easily enough: I ve only, when I see a good storm
coming on, to set a couple- of dozen of these-, and then,
when the sailors are drowned and the souls get out of
them under the water, the pocfr things are almost per
ished to death, not being used to the cold ; so they make
into my pots for shelter, and then I have them snug,
and fetch them home, and keep them here dry and
warm; and is it not well for them, poor souls, to get
into such good quarters ?"
Jack was so thunderstruck he did not know what to
say, so he said nothing. They went back into the dining-
room, and had a little- more brandy, which was excel
lent, and then, as Jack knew that it must be getting
late, and as Biddy might be uneasy, he stood up, and
* Sowkins, diminutive of soul.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 75
said he thought it was time for him to be on the
road.
"Just as you like, Jack," said Coo, "but take a due an
durrus* before you go; you ve a cold journey before
you."
Jack knew better manners than to refuse the parting
glass. "I wonder/ said he, "will I be able to make out
my way home ?"
"What should ail you," said Coo, "when I ll show you
the way ?"
Out they went before the house, and Coomara took
one of the cocked hats, and put it upon Jack s head
the wrong way, and then lifted him up on his shoulder
that he might launch him up into the water.
"Now," says he, giving him a heave, "you ll come up
just in the same spot you came down in; and, Jack,
mind and throw me back the hat."
He canted Jack off his shoulder, and up he shot like
a bubble whirr, whirr, whiz away he went -up through
the water, till he came to the very rock he had jumped
off, where he found a landing-place, and then in he
threw the hat, which sunk like a stone.
The sun was just going down in the beautiful sky of
a calm summer s evening. Feascor was seen dimly twink
ling in the cloudless heaven, a solitary star, and the
waves of the Atlantic flashed in a golden flood of light.
So Jack, perceiving it was late, set off home ; but when
he got there, not a word did he say to Biddy of where
he had spent his day.
The state of the poor souls cooped up in the lobster-
pots gave Jack a great deal of trouble, and how to re
lease them cost him a great deal of thought. He at
first had a mind to speak to the priest about the matter.
But what could the priest do, and what did Coo care
for the priest? Besides, Coo was a good sort of an old
* Recte, deoch an dorrus door-drink or stirrup-cup.
76 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
fellow, and did not think he was doing any harm. Jack
had a regard for him, too, and it also might not be
much to his own credit if it were known that he used
to go dine with Merrows. On the whole, he thought
his best plan would be to ask Coo to dinner, and to make
him drunk, if he was able, and then to take the hat and
go down and turn up the pots. It was, first of all, neces
sary, however, to get Biddy out of the way ; for Jack was
prudent enough, as she was a woman, to wish to keep
the thing secret from her.
Accordingly, Jack grew mighty pious all of a sudden,
and said to Biddy that he thought it would be for the
good of both their souls if she was to go and take her
rounds at Saint John s Well, near Ennis. Biddy thought
so too, and accordingly off she set one fine morning at
day-dawn, giving Jack a strict charge to have an eye to
the place. The coast being clear, away went Jack to
the rock to give the appointed signal to Coomara, which
was throwing a big stone into the water. Jack threw,
and up sprang Coo !
"Good morning, Jack," said he; "what do you want
with me ?"
"Just nothing at all to speak about, sir," returned
Jack, "only to come and take a bit of dinner with me,
if I might make so free as to ask you, and sure I m now
after doing so."
"It s quite agreeable, Jack, I assure you; what s your
hour?"
"Any time that s most convenient to you, sir say one
o clock, that you may go home, if you wish,, with the
daylight."
"I ll be with you," said Coo, "never fear me. *
Jack went home, and dressed a noble fish dinner, and
got out plenty of his best foreign spirits, enough, for
that matter, to make twenty men drunk. Just to the
minute came Coo, with his cocked hat under his arm.
Dinner was ready, they sat down, and ate and drank
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 77
away manfully. Jack, thinking of the poor souls below
in the pots, plied old Coo well with brandy, and encour
aged him to sing, hoping to put him under the table,
but poor Jack forgot that he had not the sea over his
own head to keep it cool. The brandy got into it, and
did his business for him, and Coo reeled off home, leav
ing his entertainer as dumb as a haddock on a Good
Friday.
Jack never woke till the next morning, and then he
was in a sad way. " Tis no use for me thinking to
make that old Rapparee drunk/ said Jack, "and how
in this world can I help the poor souls out of the lob
ster-pots ?" After ruminating nearly the whole day, a
thought struck him. "I have it," says he, slapping his
knee; "I ll be sworn that Coo never saw a drop of
poteen, as old as he is, and that s the thing to settle
him ! Oh ! then, is not it well that Biddy will not be
home these two days yet; I can have another twist at
him."
Jack asked Coo again, and Coo laughed at him for
having no better head, telling him he d never come up
to his grandfather.
"Well, but try me again," said Jack, "and I ll be bail
to drink you drunk and sober, and drunk again."
"Anything in my power," said Coo, "to oblige you."
At this dinner Jack took care to have his own liquor
well watered, and to give the strongest brandy he had
to Coo. At last says he, "Pray, sir, did you ever drink
any poteen? any real mountain dew?"
"No," says Coo; "what s that, and where does it
come from?"
"Oh, that s a secret," said Jack, "but it s the right
stuff never believe me again, if tis not fifty times as
good as brandy or rum either. Biddy s brother just sent
me a present of a little drop, in exchange for some
brandy, and as you re an old friend of the family, I
kept it to treat you with."
78 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
f Well y let s see what sort of thing it is," said Coomara.
The poteen was the right sort. It was first-rate, and
had the real smack upon it. . Coo was delighted ; he
drank and he sung Rum bum boodle boo over and over
again ; and he laughed and he danced, till he fell on the
floor fast asleep. Then Jack, who had taken good care
to keep himself sober, snapt up the cocked hat ran off
to the rock leaped in, and soon arrived at Coo s
habitation.
All was as still as a churchyard at midnight not a
Merrow, old or young, was there. In he went and turned
up the pots, but nothing did he see, only he heard a
sort of a little whistle or chirp as he raised each
of them. At this he was surprised, till he recollected
what the priests had often said, that nobody living could
see the soul, no more than they could see the wind or
the air. Having now done all that he could do for them,
he set the pots as they were before, and sent a blessing
after the poor souls to speed them on their journey
wherever they were going. Jack now began to think of
returning; he put the hat on, as was right, the wrong
way; but when he got out he found the water so high
over his head that he had no hopes of ever getting up
into it, now that he had not old Coomara to give him a
lift. He walked about looking for a ladder, but not one
could he find, and not a rock was there in sight. At
last he saw a spot where the sea hung rather lower than
anywhere else, so he resolved to try there. Just as he
came to it, a big cod happened to put down his tail.
Jack made a jump and caught hold of it, and the cod,
all in amazement, gave a bounce and pulled Jack up.
The minute the hat touched the water away Jack was
whisked, and up he shot like a cork, dragging the poor
cod, that he forgot to let go, up with him tail foremost.
He got to the rock in no time, and without a moment s
delay hurried home, rejoicing in the good deed he had
done.
IRISH FAIRY AND POLE: TALES 79
But, meanwhile, there was fine work at home ; for our
friend Jack had hardly left the house on his soul-free
ing expedition, when back came Biddy from her soul-
saving one to the well. When she entered the house and
saw the things lying thrie-na-helah* on the table before
her "Here s a pretty job I 9 said she ; "that blackguard
of mine what ill-luck I had ever to marry him ! He
has picked up some vagabond or other, while I was
praying for the good of his soul, and they ve been drink
ing all the poteen that my own brother gave him, and
all the spirits, to be sure, that he was to have sold to
his honor." Then hearing an outlandish kind of a
grunt, she looked down, and saw Coomara lying under
the table. "The blessed Virgin help me," snouted she,
"if he has not made a real beast of himself ! Well, well,
I ve often heard of a man making a beast of himself
with drink ! Oh hone, oh hone ! Jack, honey, what will
I do with you, or what will I do without you ? How can
any decent woman ever think of living with a beast ?"
With such like lamentations Biddy rushed out of the
house, and was going she knew not where, when she
heard the well-known voice of Jack singing a merry
tune. Glad enough was Biddy to find him safe and
sound, and not turned into a thing that was like neither
fish nor flesh. Jack was obliged to tell her all, and
Biddy, though she had half a mind to be angry with
him for not telling her before, owned that he had done
a great service to the poor souls. Back they both went
most lovingly to the house, and Jack wakened up Coo
mara ; and, perceiving the old fellow to be rather dull,
he bid him not to be cast down, for twas many a good
man s case; said it all came of his not being used to
the poteen, and recommended him, bv way of cure, to
swallow a hair of the dog that bit him. Coo, however,
* Tri-na-cheile, literally through other i.e., higgledy-pig
gledy.
80 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
seemed to think lie had had quite enough. He got up,
quite out of sorts, and without having the manners to
say one word in the way of civility, he sneaked off to
cool himself by a jaunt through the salt water.
Coomara never missed the souls. He and Jack con
tinued the best of friends in the world, and no one, per
haps, ever equalled Jack for freeing souls from purga
tory; for he contrived fifty excuses for getting into the
house below the sea, unknown to the old fellow, and
then turning up the pots and letting out the souls. It
vexed him, to be sure, that he could never see them;
but as he knew the thing to be impossible, he was obliged
to be satisfied.
Their intercourse continued for several years. How
ever, one morning, on Jack s throwing in a stone as
usual, he got no answer. He flung another, and an
other, still there was no reply. He went away, and re
turned the following morning, but it was to no purpose.
As he was without the hat, he could not go down to tee
what had become of old Coo, but his belief was that the
old man, or the old fish, or whatever he was, had either
died, or had removed from that part of the country.
FLORY CANTILLON S FUNERAL
T. CROFTON CROKEK
THE ancient burial place of the Cantillon family was
on an island in Ballyheigh Bay. This island was sit
uated at no great distance from the shore, and at a
remote period was overflowed in one of the encroach
ments which the Atlantic has made on that part of the
coast of Kerry. The fishermen declare they have often
seen the ruined walls of an old chapel beneath them in
the water, as they sailed over the clear green sea of a
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 81
sunny afternoon. However this may be, it is well known
that the Cantillons were, like most other Irish families,
strongly attached to their ancient burial-place ; and this
attachment led to the custom, when any of the family
died, of carrying the corpse to the seaside, where the
coffin was left on the shore within reach of the tide.
In the morning it had disappeared, being, as was tradi
tionally believed, conveyed away by the ancestors of the
deceased to their family tomb.
Connor Crowe, a county Clare man, was related to-
the Cantillons by marriage. "Connor Mac in Cruagh, of
the seven quarters of Breintragh," as he was commonly
called, and a proud man he was of the name. Connor,
be it known, would drink a quart of salt water, for its
medicinal virtues, before breakfast; and for the same
reason, I suppose, double that quantity of raw whiskey
between breakfast and night, which last he did with as
little inconvenience to himself as any man in the bar
ony of Moyferta; and were I to add Clanderalaw and
Ibrickan, I don t think I should say wrong.
On the death of Florence Cantillon, Connor Crowe
was determined to satisfy himself about the truth of
this story of the old church under the sea : so when he
heard the news of the old fellow s death, away with him
to Ardfert, where Plory was laid out in high style, and
a beautiful corpse he made.
Flory had been as jolly and as rollicking a boy in his
day as ever was stretched, and his wake .was in every
respect worthy of him. There was all kind of enter
tainment, and all sort of diversion at it, and no less
than three girls got husbands there more luck to them.
Everything was as it should be ; all that side of the coun
try, from Dingle to Tarbert, was at the funeral. The
Keen was sung long and bitterly ; and, according to the
family custom, the coffin was carried to Ballyheigh
strand, where it was laid upon the shore, with a prayer
for the repose of the dead.
32 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The mourners departed, one group after another, and
at last Connor Crowe was left alone. He then pulled
out his whiskey bottle, his drop of comfort, as he called
it, which he required, being in grief; and down he sat
upon a big stone that was sheltered by a projecting
rock, and partly concealed from view, to await with pa
tience the appearance of the ghostly undertakers.
The evening came on mild and beautiful. He whistled
an old air which he had heard in his childhood, hoping
to keep idle fears out of his head; but the "wild strain
of that melody brought a thousand recollections with
it, which only made the twilight appear more pensive.
"If twas near the gloomy tower of Dunmore, in my
own sweet country, I was," said Connor Crowe, with a
sigh, "one might well believe that the prisoners, who
were murdered long ago there in the vaults under the
castle, would be the hands to carry off the coffin out of
envy, for never a one of them was buried decently, nor
had as much as a coffin amongst them all. Tis often,
sure enough, I have heard lamentations and great
mourning coming from the vaults of Dunmore Castle;
but," continued he, after fondly pressing his lips to the
mouth of his companion and silent comforter, the whis
key bottle, "didn t I know all the time well enough,
twas the dismal sounding waves working through the
cliffs and hollows of the rocks, and fretting themselves
to foam. Oh, then, Dunmore Castle, it is you that are
the gloomy-looking tower on a gloomy day, with the
gloomy hills behind you; when one has gloomy thoughts
on their heart, and sees you like a ghost rising out of
the smoke made by the kelp burners on the strand,
there is, the Lord save us ! as fearful a look about you
as about the Blue Man s Lake at midnight. Well, then,
anyhow/ said Connor, after a pause, "is it not a blessed
night, though surely the moon looks mighty pale in the
face? St. Senan himself between us and all kinds of
harm."
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 83
It was, in truth, a lovely moonlight night; nothing
was to be seen around but the dark rocks, and the white
pebbly beach, upon which the sea broke with a hoarse
and melancholy murmur. Connor, notwithstanding his
frequent draughts, felt rather queerish, and almost be
gan to repent his curiosity. It was certainly a solemn
sight to behold the black coffin resting upon the white
strand. His imagination gradually converted the deep
moaning of old ocean into a mournful wail for the dead,
and from the shadowy recesses of the rocks he imaged
forth strange and visionary forms.
As the night advanced, Connor became weary with
watching. He caught himself more than once in the
act of nodding, when suddenly giving his head a shake,
he would look toward the black coffin. But the narrow
house of death remained unmoved before him.
It was long past midnight, and the moon was sinking
into the sea, when he heard the sound of many voices,
which gradually became stronger, above the heavy and
monotonous roll of the sea. He listened, and presently
could distinguish a Keen of exquisite sweetness, the
notes of which rose and fell with the heaving of the
waves, whose deep murmur mingled with and supported
the strain !
The Keen grew louder and louder, and seemed to
approach the beach, and then fell into a low, plaintive
wail. As it ended Connor beheld a number of strange
and, in the dim light, mysterious-looking figures emerge
from the sea, and surround the coffin, which they pre
pared to launch into the water.
"This comes of marrying with the creatures of earth/
said one of the figures, in a clear, yet hollow tone.
"True/ replied another, with a voice still more fear
ful, "our king would never have commanded his gnaw
ing white-toothed waves to devour the rocky roots of
the island cemetery, had not his daughter, Durfulla,
been buried there by her mortal husband !"
84 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"But the time will come," said a third, bending over
the coffin,
"When mortal eye our work shall spy
And mortal ear our dirge shall hear."
"Then," said a fourth, "our burial of the Cantillons
is at an end for ever I"
As this was spoken the coffin was borne from the
beach by a retiring wave, and the company of sea people
prepared to follow it; but at the moment one chanced
to discover Connor Crowe, as fixed with wonder and
as motionless with fear as the stone on which he sat.
"The time is come," cried the unearthly being, "the
time is come; a human eye looks on the forms of ocean,
a human ear has heard their voices. Farewell to the
Cantillons; the sons of the sea are no longer doomed
to bury the dust of the earth !"
One after the other turned slowly round, and regarded
Connor Crowe, who still remained as if bound by a spell.
Again arose their funeral song; and on the next wave
they followed the coffin. The sound of the lamentation
died away, and at length nothing was heard but the rush
of waters. The coffin and the train of sea people sank
over the old churchyard, and never since the funeral of
old Flory Cantillon have any of the family been carried
to the strand of Ballyheigh, for conveyance to their
rightful burial-place, beneath the waves of the Atlantic.
THE SOLITARY FAIRIES
LEPRACAUN". CLURICAUN. FAR DARRIG
"THE name Lepracaun," Mr. Douglas Hyde writes to me,
"is from the Irish leith ~brog i.e., the One-shoemaker, since
he is generally seen working at a single shoe. It is spelt in
Irish leiih bhrogan, or leith phrogan, and is in some places
pronounced Luchryman, as O Kearney writes it in that very
rare book, the Pels Tigh Chonain."
The Lepracaun, Cluricaun, and Far Darrig. Are these
one spirit in different moods and shapes? Hardly two Irish
writers are agreed. In many things these three fairies, if
-three, resemble each other. They are withered, old, and
solitary, in every way unlike the sociable spirits of the first
sections. They dress with all unfairy homeliness, and are,
indeed, most sluttish, slouching, jeering, mischievous phan
toms. They are the great practical jokers among the good
people.
The Lepracaun makes shoes continually, and has grown
very rich. Many treasure-crocks, buried of old in war-time,
has he now for his own. In the early part of this century,
according to Croker, in a newspaper office in Tipperary, they
used to show a little shoe forgotten by a Lepracaun.
The Cluricaun (Clobhair-ceann, in O Kearney) makes him
self drunk in gentlemen s cellars. Some suppose he is
merely the Lepracaun on a spree. He is almost unknown
in Connaught and the north.
The Far Darrig (fear dearg) , which means the Red Man,
for he wears a red cap and coat, busies himself with practi
cal joking, especially with gruesome joking. This he does,
and nothing else.
The Fear-Gorta (Man of Hunger) is an emaciated phan
tom that goes through the land in famine time, begging an
alms and bringing good luck to the giver.
86 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
There are other solitary fairies, such as the House-spirit
and the Water-sheerie, own brother to the English Jack-o -
Lantern; the Pooka and the Banshee concerning these
presently; the Dallahan, or headless phantom one used to
stand in a Sligo street on dark nights till lately ; the Black
Dog, a form, perhaps, of the Pooka. The ships at the Sligo
quays are haunted sometimes by this spirit, who announces
his presence by a sound like the flinging of all "the tin por
ringers in the world" down into the hold. He even follows
them to sea.
The Leanhaun Shee (fairy mistress) seeks the love of
mortals. If they refuse, she must be their slave; if they
consent, they are hers, and can only escape by finding an
other to take their place. The fairy lives on their life, and
they waste away. Death is no escape from her. She is the
Gaelic muse, for she gives inspiration to those she perse
cutes. The Gaelic poets die young, for she is restless, and
will not let them remain long on earth this malignant
phantom.
Besides these are divers monsters the Augh-iska, the
Waterhorse, the Payshtha (piast bestia), the Lake-
dragon, and such like ; but whether these be animals, fairies,
or spirits, I know not.
THE LEPRACAUN; OE, FAIRY SHOEMAKER
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
I
LITTLE Cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath s green mound?
Only the plaintive yellow bird
Sighing in sultry fields around,
Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee !
Only the grasshopper and the bee?
"Yellow bird," the yellow-bunting, or yorlin.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 87
"Tip tap, rip-rap,
Tick-a-tack-too !
Scarlet leather, sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight;
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm I"
Lay JOVLT ear close to the hill.
Do you not catch the tiny clamor,
Busy click of an elfin hammer,
Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?
He s a span
And a quarter in height.
Get him in sight, hold him tight,
And you re a made
Man!
II
You watch your cattle the summer day,
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay ;
How would you like to roll in your carriage,
Look for a duchess s daughter in marriage ?
Seize the Shoemaker then you may !
"Big boots a-hunting,
Sandals in the hall,
White for a wedding-feast,
Pink for a ball.
This way, that way,
So we make a shoe ;
Getting rich every stitch,
Tick-tack-too !"
Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks
This keen miser-fairy hath,
Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks,
Euin and round-tow r, cave and rath,
And where the cormorants build ;
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
From times of old
Guarded by him;
Each of them fill d
Full to the brim
With gold !
Ill
I caught him at work one day, myself,
In the castle-ditch, where foxglove grows,
A wrinkled, wizened, and bearded Elf,
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron shoe in his lap
"Kip-rap, tip-tap,
Tick-tack-too!
(A grasshopper on my cap 1
Away the moth flew!)
Buskins for a fairy prince,
Brogues for his son,
Pay me well, pay me well,
When the job is done!"
The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt,
I stared at him; he stared at me;
"Servant, Sir !" "Humph !" says he,
And pull d a snuff-box out.
He took a long pinch, look d better pleased.
The queer little Lepracaun;
Offered the box with a whimsical grace,
Pouf ! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed,
Was gone !
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 89
MASTER AND MAN"
T. CROFTON CROKER
BILLY MAC DANIEL was once as likely a young man
as ever shook his brogue at a patron*, emptied a quart,
or handled a shillelagh; fearing for nothing but the
want of drink; caring for nothing but who should pay
for it; and thinking of nothing but how to make fun
over it; drunk or sober, a word and a blow was ever
the way with Billy Mac Daniel ; and a mighty easy way
it is of either getting into or of ending a dispute. More
is the pity that, through the means of his thinking, and
fearing, and caring for nothing, this same Billy Mac
Daniel fell into bad company ; for surely the good people
are the worst of all company any one could come across.
It so happened that Billy was going home one clear
frosty night not long after Christmas; the moon was
round and bright; but although it was as fine a night
as heart could wish for, he felt pinched with cold. "By
my word," chattered Billy, "a drop of good liquor would
be no bad thing to keep a man s soul from freezing in
him; and I wish I had a full measure of the best/
"Never wish it twice, Billy," said a little man in a
three-cornered hat, bound all about with gold lace, and
with great silver buckles in his shoes, so big that it was
a wonder how he could carry them, and he held out a
glass as big as himself, filled with as good liquor as
ever eye looked on or lip tasted.
"Success, my little fellow," said Billy Mac Daniel,
nothing daunted, though well he knew the little man
to belong to the good people ; "here s your health, any
way, and thank you kindly ; no matter who pays for the
drink;" and he took the glass and drained it to the
very bottom without ever taking a second breath to it.
* A festival held in honor of some patron saint.
90 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Success," said the little man; "and you re heartily
welcome, Billy ; but don t think to cheat me as you have
done others, out with your purse and pay me like a
gentleman."
"Is it I pay you?" said Billy; "could I not just take
you up and put you in my pocket as easily as a black
berry ?"
"Billy Mac Daniel," said the little man, getting very
angry, "you shall be my servant for seven years and a
day, and that is the way I will be paid; so make ready
to follow me."
When Billy heard this he began to be very sorry for
having used such bold words toward the little man ; and
he felt himself, yet could not tell how, obliged to follow
the little man the live-long night about the country, up
and down, and over hedge and ditch, and through bog
and brake, without any rest.
When morning began to dawn the little man turned
round to him and said, "You may now go home, Billy,
but on your peril don t fail to meet me in the Fort-field
to-night; or if you do it may be the worse for you in
the long run. If I find you a good servant, you will
find me an indulgent master."
Home went Billy Mac Daniel; and though he was
tired and weary enough, never a wink of sleep could he
get for thinking of the little man; but he was afraid
not to do his bidding, so up he got in the evening, and
away he went to the Fort-field. He was not long there
before the little man came towards him and said, "Billy,
t want to go a long journey to-night; so saddle one of
my horses, and you may saddle another for yourself,
as you are to go along with me, and may be tired after
your walk last night."
Billy thought this very considerate of his master, and
thanked him accordingly : "But," said he, "if I may be
so bold, sir, I would ask which is the way to your stable,
for never a thing do I see but the fort here, and the
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 91
old thorn tree in the corner of the field, and the stream
running at the bottom of the hill, with the bit of bog
over against us."
"Ask no questions, Billy," said the little man, "but
go over to that bit of bog, and bring me two of the
strongest rushes you can find."
Billy did accordingly, wondering what the little man
would be at; and he picked two of the stoutest rushes
he could find, with a little bunch of brown blossom stuck
at the side of each, and brought them back to his master.
"Get up, Billy," said the little man, taking one of the
rushes from him and striding across it.
"Where shall I get up, please your honor ?" said Billy.
"Why, upon horseback, like me, to be sure," said the
little man.
"Is it after making a fool of me you d be," said Billy,
"bidding me get a horseback upon that bit of a rush?
May be you wont to persuade me that the rush I pulled
but a while ago out of the bog over there is a horse ?"
"Up ! up ! and no words," said the little man, looking
very angry; "the best horse you ever rode was but a
fool to it." So Billy, thinking all this was in joke, and
fearing to vex his master, straddled across the rush.
"Borram ! Borram ! Borram !" cried the little man
three times (which, in English, means to become great) ,
and Billy did the same after him; presently the rushes
swelled up into fine horses, and away they went full
speed ; but Billy, who had put the rush between his legs,
without much minding how he did it, found himself
sitting on horseback the wrong way, which was rather
awkward, with his face to the horse s tail; and so
quickly had his steed started off with him that he had
no power to turn round, and there was therefore nothing
for it but to hold on by the tail.
At last they came to their journev s end, and stopped
at the gate of a fine house. "Now, Billy," said the little
man, "do as you see me do, and follow me close; but
92 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
as you did not know your horse s head from his tail,
mind that your own head does not spin round until
you can t tell whether you are standing on it or on your
heels : for remember that old liquor, though able to make
a cat speak, can make a man dumb."
The little man then said some queer kind of words,
out of which Billy could make no meaning ; but he con
trived to say them after him for all that; and in they
both went through the key-hole of the door, and through
one key-hole after another, until they got into the wine-
cellar, which was well stored with all kinds of wine.
The little man fell to drinking as hard as he could,
and Billy, noway disliking the example, did the same.
"The best of masters are you, surely/ said Billy to him ;
"no matter who is the next; and well pleased will I be
with your service if you continue to give me plenty to
drink."
"I have made no bargain with you," said the little
man, "and will make none; but up and follow me."
Away they went, through key-hole after key-hole; and
each mounting upon the rush which he left at the hall
door, scampered off, kicking the clouds before them like
snowballs, as soon as the words, "Borram, Borram, Bor-
ram," had passed their lips.
When they came back to the Fort-field the little man
dismissed Billy, bidding him to be there the next night
at the same hour. Thus did they go on, night after
night, shaping their course one night here, and another
night there; sometimes north, and sometimes east, and
sometimes south, until there was not a gentleman s wine-
cellar in all Ireland they had not visited, and could tell
the flavor of every wine in it as well, ay, better than
the butler himself.
One night when Billy Mac Daniel met the little man
as usual in the Fort-field, and was going to the bog to
fetch the horses for their journey, his master said to
him, "Billy, I shall want another horse to-night, for may
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 93
be we may bring back more company than we take." So
Billy, who now knew better than to question any order
given to him by his master, brought a third rush, much
wondering who it might be that would travel back in
their company, and whether he was about to have a
fellow-servant, "If I have," thought Billy, "he shall
go and fetch the horses from the bog every night; for
I don t see why I am not, every inch of me, as good a
gentleman as my master."
Well, away they went, Billy leading the third horse,
and never stopped until they came to a snug farmer s
house, in the county Limerick, close under the old castle
of Carrigogunniel, that was built, they say, by the great
Brian Boru. Within the house there was great carous
ing going forward, and the little man stopped outside
for some time to listen; then turning round all of a
sudden, said, "Billy, I will be a thousand years old
to-morrow !"
"God bless us, sir," said Billy; "will you?"
"Don t say these words again, Billy," said the little
old man, "or you will be my ruin for ever. Now Billy,
as I will be a thousand years in the world to-morrow,
I think it is full time for me to get married."
"I think so too, without any kind of doubt at all/ 5
said Billy, "if ever you mean to marry."
"And to that purpose," said the little man, "have I
come all the way to Carrigogunniel ; for in this house,
this very night, is young Darby Riley going to be mar
ried to Bridget Rooney; and as she is a tall and comely
girl, and has come of decent people, I think of marrying
her myself, and taking her off with me."
"And what will Darby Riley say to that?" said
Billy.
"Silence!" said the little man, putting on a mighty
severe look; "I did not bring you here with me to ask
questions" and without holding further argument, he
began saying the queer words which had the power of
94 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
passing him through the key-hole as free as air, and
which Billy thought himself mighty clever to be able to
say after him.
In they both went; and for the better viewing the
company, the little man perched himself up as nimbly
as a cocksparrow upon one of the big beams which went
across the house over all their heads, and Billy did the
same upon another facing him; but not being much ac
customed to roosting in such a place, his legs hung
down as untidy as may be, and it was quite clear he
had not taken pattern after the way in which the little
man had bundled himself up together. If the little man
had been a tailor all his life he could not have sat more
contentedly upon his haunches.
There they were, both master and man, looking down
upon the fun that was going forward; and under them
were the priest and piper, and the father of Darby Riley,
with Darby s two brothers and his uncle s son ; and there
were both the father and the mother of Bridget Rooney,
and proud enough the old couple were that night of their
daughter, as good right they had; and her four sisters,
with bran new ribbons in their caps, and her three
brothers all looking as clean and as clever as any three
boys in Munster, and there were uncles and aunts, and
gossips and cousins enough besides to make a full house
of it ; and plenty was there to eat and drink on the table
for every one of them, if they had been double the
number.
Now it happened, just as Mrs. Rooney had helped his
reverence to the first cut of the pig s head which was
placed before her, beautifully bolstered up with white
savoys, that the bride gave a sneeze, which made every
one at the table start, but not a soul said "God bless us/
All thinking that the priest would have done so, as he
ought if he had done his duty, no one wished to take
the word out of his mouth, which, unfortunately, was
preoccupied with pig s head and greens. And after a
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 95
moment s pause the fun and merriment of the bridal
feast went on without the pious benediction.
Of this circumstance both Billy and his master were
no inattentive spectators from their exalted stations.
"Ha I" exclaimed the little man, throwing one leg from
under him with a joyous flourish, and his eye twinkled
with a strange light, while his eyebrows became ele
vated into the curvature of Gothic arches ; "Ha !" said
he, leering down at the bride, and then up at Billy, "I
have half of her now, surely. Let her sneeze but twice
more, and she is mine, in spite of priest, mass-book, and
Darby Kiley."
Again the fair Bridget sneezed ; but it was so gently,
and she blushed so much, that few except the little man
took, or seemed to take, any notice ; and no one thought
of saying "God bless us."
Billy all this time regarded the poor girl with a most
rueful expression of countenance ; for he could not help
thinking what a terrible thing it was for a nice young
girl of nineteen, with large blue eyes, transparent skin,
and dimpled cheeks, suffused with health and joy, to
be obliged to marry an ugly little bit of a man, who
was a thousand years old, barring a day.
At this critical moment the bride gave a third sneeze,
and Billy roared out with all his might, "God save us I"
Whether this exclamation resulted from his soliloquy,
or from the mere force of habit, he never could tell ex
actly himself; but no sooner was it uttered than the
little man, his face glowing with ra#e and disappoint
ment, sprung from the beam on which he had perched
himself, and shrieking out in the shrill voice of a
cracked bagpipe, "I discharge you from my service,
Billy Mac Daniel take that for your wages," gave poor
Billy a most furious kick in the back, which sent his
unfortunate servant sprawling upon his face and hands
right in the middle of the supper table.
, If Billy was astonished, how much more so was every
96 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
one of the company into which he was thrown with so
little ceremony. But when they heard his story, Father
Cooney laid down his knife and fork, and married the
young couple out of hand with all speed ; and Billy Mac
Daniel danced the Rinka at their wedding, and plenty
he did drink at it too, which was what he thought more
of than dancing.
FAR DARRIG IN DONEGAL
MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK
PAT DIVER, the tinker, was a man well accustomed
to a wandering life, and to strange shelters; he had
shared the beggar s blanket in smoky cabins; he had
crouched beside the still in many a nook and corner
where poteen was made on the wild Innishowen moun
tains; he had even slept on the bare heather, or on the
ditch, with no roof over him but the vault of heaven;
yet were all his nights of adventure tame and common
place when compared with one especial night.
During the day preceding that night, he had mended
all the kettles and saucepans in Moville and Greencastle,
and was on his way to Culdaff, when night overtook him
on a lonely mountain road.
He knocked at one door after another asking for a
night s lodging, while he jingled the halfpence in his
pocket, but was everywhere refused.
Where was the boasted hospitality of Innishowen,
which he had never before known to fail ? It was of no
use to be aj)le to pay when the people seemed so churlish.
Thus thinking, he made his way toward a light a little
further on, and knocked at another cabin door.
An old man and woman were seated one at each side
of the fire.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 97
"Will you be pleased to give me a night s lodging,
sir ?" asked Pat respectfully.
"Can you tell a story ?" returned the old man.
"No, then, sir, I canna say I m good at story-telling/
replied the puzzled tinker.
"Then you maun just gang further, for none but
them that can tell a story will get in here."
This reply was made in so decided a tone that Pat did
not attempt to repeat his appeal, but turned away re
luctantly to resume his weary journey.
"A story, indeed/ muttered he. "Auld wives fables
to please the weans !"
As he took up his bundle of tinkering implements, he
observed a barn standing rather behind the dwelling
house, and, aided by the rising moon, he made his way
toward it.
It was a clean, roomy barn, with a piled-up heap of
straw in one corner. Here was a shelter not to be de
spised; so Pat crept under the straw, and was soon
asleep.
He could not have slept very long when he was awak
ened by the tramp of feet, and, peeping cautiously
through a crevice in his straw covering, he saw four
immensely tall men enter the barn, dragging a body,
which they threw roughly upon the floor.
They next lighted a fire in the middle of the barn,
and fastened the corpse by the feet with a great rope
to a beam in the roof. One of them then began to turn
it slowly before the fire. "Comer on," said he, addressing
a gigantic fellow, the tallest of the four "I m tired;
you be to tak your turn."
"Faix an troth, I ll no turn him," replied the bi
man. "There s Pat Diver in under the straw, wh})
wouldn t he tak his turn ?"
With hideous clamor the four men called the wretched
Pat, who, seeing there was no escape, thought it was
his wisest plan to come forth as he was bidden.
98 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Now, Pat," said they, "you ll turn the corpse, but
if you let him burn you ll be tied up there and roasted
in his place."
Pat s hair stood on end, and the cold perspiration
poured from his forehead, but there was nothing for it
but to perform his dreadful task.
Seeing him fairly embarked in it, the tall men went
away.
Soon, however, the flames rose so high as to singe
the rope, and the corpse fell with a great thud upon
the fire, scattering the ashes and embers, and extracting
a howl of anguish from the miserable cook, who rushed
to the door, and ran for his life.
He ran on until he was ready to drop with fatigue,
when, seeing a drain overgrown with tall, rank grass,
he thought he would creep in there and lie bidder, till
morning.
But he was not many minutes in the drain before he
heard the heavy tramping again, and the four men came
up with their burthen, which they laid down on the edge
of the drain.
"I m tired," said one, to the giant; "it s your turn to
carry him a piece now."
"Faix and troth, I ll no carry him," replied he, "but
there s Pat Diver in the drain, why wouldn t he come
out and tak his turn?"
"Come out, Pat, come out," roared all the men, and
Pat, almost dead with fright, crept out.
He staggered on under the weight of the corpse until
he reached Kiltown Abbey, a ruin festooned with ivy,
where the brown owl hooted all night long, and the for
gotten dead slept around the walls under dense, matted
tangles of brambles and ben-weed.
No one ever buried there now, but Pat s tall com
panions turned into the wild graveyard, and began dig
ging a grave.
Pat, seeing them thus engaged, thought he might
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 99
once more try to escape, and climbed up into a haw
thorn tree in the fence, hoping to be hidden in the
boughs.
"I m tired/ said the man who was digging the grave ;
"here, take the spade," addressing the big man, "it s
your turn."
"Faix an troth, it s no my turn," replied he, as be
fore. "There s Pat Diver in the tree, why wouldn t he
come down and tak his turn ?"
Pat came down to take the spade, but just then the
cocks in the little farmyards and cabins round the ab
bey began to crow, and the men looked at one another.
"We must go," said they, "and well is it for you, Pat
Diver, that the cocks crowed, for if they had not, you d
just ha been bundled into that grave with the corpse."
Two months passed, and Pat had wandered far and
wide over the county Donegal, when he chanced to arrive
at Eaphoe during a fair.
Among the crowd that filled the Diamond he came
suddenly on the big man.
"How are you, Pat Diver ?" said he, bending down to
look into the tinker s face.
"You ve the advantage of me, sir, for I havna the
pleasure of knowing you/ faltered Pat.
"Do you not know me, Pat ?" Whisper "When you
go back to Innishowen, you ll have a story to tell !"
THE SOLITARY FAIRIES
THE POOKA
THE Pooka, recte Puca, seems essentially an animal spirit.
Some derive his name from poc, a he-goat; and speculative
persons consider him the forefather of Shakespeare s
"Puck." On solitary mountains and among old ruins he
lives, "grown monstrous with much solitude/ and is of the
race of the nightmare. "In the MS. story, called Mac-na-
Michomhairle, of uncertain authorship/ writes me Mr.
Douglas Hyde, "we read that out of a certain hill in Lein-
ster, there used to emerge as far as his middle, a plump,
sleek, terrible steed, and speak in human voice to each per
son about November-day, and he was accustomed to give in
telligent and proper answers to such as consulted him con
cerning all that would befall them until the November of
next year. And the people used to leave gifts and presents
at the hill until the coming of Patrick and the holy clergy,
This tradition appears to be a cognate one with that of
the Puca." Yes ! unless it were merely an augh-ishka
[eacli-uisg&], or Water horse. For these, we are told, were
common once, and used to come out of the water to gallop
on the sands and in the fields, and people would often go
between them and the marge and bridle them, and they
would make the finest of horses if only you could keep them
away from sight of the water; but if once they saw a
glimpse of the water, they would plunge in with their rider,
and tear him to pieces at the bottom. It being a November
spirit, however, tells in favor of the Pooka, for November-
day is sacred to the Pooka. It is hard to realize that wild,
staring phantom grown sleek and civil.
He has many shapes is now a horse, now an ass, now a
bull, now a goat, now an eagle. Like all spirits, he is only
half in the world of form.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 101
THE PIPER AND THE PtTCA
DOUGLAS HYDE
Translated literally from the Irish of the
Leabhar Sgeulaigheachia
IN the old times, there was a half fool living in Dun-
more, in the county Galway, and although he was ex
cessively fond of music, he was unable to learn more
than one tune, and that was the "Black Rogue." He
used to get a good deal of money from the gentlemen,
for they used to get sport out of him. One night the
piper was coming home from a house where there had
been a dance-, and he half drunk. When he came to
a little bridge that was up by his mother s house, he
squeezed the pipes on, and began playing the "Black
Rogue" (an rogaire dubh). The Puca came behind
him, and flung him up on his own back. There were
long horns on the Puca, and the piper got a good grip
of them, and then he said
. "Destruction on you, you nasty beast, let me home.
I have a ten-penny piece in my pocket for my mother,
and she wants snuff."
"Never mind your mother," said the Puca, "but keep
your hold. If you fall, you will break your neck and
your pipes." Then the Puca said to him, "Play up for
me the Shan Van Vocht (an t-seann-bhean bhocht)."
"I don t know it," said the piper.
"Never mind whether you do or you don t/ 5 said the
Puca. "Play up, and I ll make you know."
The piper put wind in his bag, and he played such
mu^ic as made himself wonder.
"Upon my word, vou re a fine music-master," says the
piner then ; "but tell me where you re for bringing me."
"There s a great feast in the house of the Banshee.
or the top of Croagh Patric to-night." says the Puca,
102 IRiSR FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"iind I m for bringing you there to play music, and,
take my word, you ll get the price of your trouble."
"By my word, you ll save me a journey, then/ says
the piper, "for Father William put a journey to Croagh
Patric on me, because I stole the white gander from him
last Martinmas."
The Puca rushed him across hills and bogs and rough
places, till he brought him to the top of Croagh Patric.
Then the Plica struck three blows with his foot, and a
great door opened, and they passed in together, into a
fine room.
The piper saw a golden table in the middle of the
room, and hundreds of old women (cailleacha) sitting
round about it. The old women rose up, and said, "A
hundred thousand welcomes to you, you Puca of No
vember (na Samhna). Who is this you have with you?"
"The best piper in Ireland," says the Puca.
One of the old women struck a blow on the ground,
and a door opened in the side of the wall, and what
should the piper see coming out but the white gander
which he had stolen from Father William.
"By my conscience, then," says the piper, "myself
and my mother ate every taste of that gander, only
one wing, and I gave that to Moy-rua (Ked Mary), and
it s she told the priest I stole the gander."
The gander cleaned the table, and carried it away, and
the Puca said, "Play up music for these ladies."
The piper played up, and the old women began danc
ing, and they were dancing till they were tired. Then
the Puca said to pay the piper, and every old woman
drew out a gold piece, and gave it to him.
"By the tooth of Patric," said he, "I m as rich as
the son of a lord."
"Come with me," says the Puca, "and I ll bring you
home."
They went out then, and just as he was going to ride
on the Puca, the gander came up to him, and gave him
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 103
a new set of pipes. The Plica was not long until he
brought him to Dunmore, and he threw the piper off
at the little bridge, and then he told him to go home,
and says to him, "You have two things now that you
never had before you have sense and music" (ciall agus
fool).
The piper went home, and he knocked at his mother s
door, saying, "Let me in, I m as rich as a lord, and I m
the best piper in Ireland."
"You re drunk," said the mother.
"No, indeed," says the piper, "I haven t drunk a
drop."
The mother let him in, and he gave her the gold
pieces, and, "Wait now," says he, "till you hear the
music I ll play."
He buckled on the pipes, but instead of music, there
came a sound as if all the geese and ganders in Ireland
were screeching together. He wakened the neighbors,
and they were all mocking him, until he put on the old
pipes, and then he played melodious music for them;
and after that he told them all he had gone through
that night.
The next morning, when his mother went to look at
the gold pieces, there was nothing there but the leaves
of a plant.
The piper went to the priest, and told him his story,
but the priest would not believe a word from him, until
he put the pipes on him, and then the screeching of the
ganders and geese began.
"Leave my sight, you thief," says the priest.
But nothing would do the piper till he would put
the old pipes on him to show the priest that his story
was true.
He buckled on the old pipes, and he played melodious
music, and from that day till the day of his death, there
was never a piper in the county Galway was as good
as he was.
104 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
DANIEL O KOURKE
T. CKOFTON CHOKER
PEOPLE may have heard of the renowned adventures
of Daniel O Rourke, but how few are there who know
that the cause of all his perils, above and below, was
neither more nor less than his having slept under the
walls of the Pooka s tower. I ki^w the man well. He
lived at the bottom of Hungry Hill, just at the right-
hand side of the road as you go toward Bantry. An old
man was he, at the time he told me the story, with gray
hair and a red nose; and it was on the 25th of June,
1813, that I heard it from his own lips, as he sat
smoking his pipe under the old poplar tree, on as fine
an evening as ever shone from the sky. I was going
to visit the caves in Dursey Island, having spent the
morning at Glengariff .
"I am often axed to tell it, sir," said he, "so that this
is not the first time. The master s son, you see, had
come from beyond foreign parts in France and Spain,
as young gentlemen used to go before Buonaparte or
any such was heard of; and sure enough there was a
dinner given to all the people on the ground, gentle
and simple, high and low, rich and poor. The ould
gentlemen were the gentlemen after all, saving your
honor s presence. They d swear at a body a little, to
be sure, and, may be, give one a cut of a whip now and
then, but we were no losers by it in the end; and they
were so easy and civil, and kept such rattling houses,
and thousands of welcomes; and there was no grinding
for rent, and there was hardly a tenant on the estate
that did not taste of his landlord s bounty often and
often in a year ; but now it s another thing. No matter
for that, sir, for I d better be telling you my story.
"Well, we had everything of the best, and plenty of
it; and we ate, and we drank, and we danced, and the
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 105
young master by the same token danced with Peggy
Barry, from the Bohereen a lovely young couple they
were, though they are both low enough now. To make
a long story short, I got, as a body may say, the same
thing as tipsy almost, for I can t remember ever at all,
no ways, how it was I left the place; only I did leave
it, that s certain. Well, I thought, for all that, in my
self, I d just step to Molly Cronohan s, the fairy woman,
to speak a word about the bracket heifer that was be
witched; and so as I was crossing the stepping-stonea
of the ford of Ballyashenogh, and as looking up at
the stars and blessing myself for why? it was Lady
day I missed my foot, and souse I fell into the water,
Death alive ! thought I, Til be drowned now ! How
ever, I began swimming, swimming, swimming away for
the dear life, till at last I got ashore, somehow or other,
but never the one of me can tell how, upon a dissolute
island.
"I wandered and wandered about there, without know
ing where I wandered, until at last I got into a big
bog. The moon was shining as bright as day, or your
fair lady s eyes, sir (with the pardon for mentioning
her), and I looked east and west, and north and south,
and every way, and nothing did I see but bog, bog, bog
I could never find out how I got into it; and my hear!
grew cold with fear, for sure and certain I was that it
would be my berrin place. So I sat down upon a stone
which, as good luck would have it, was close by me, and
I began to scratch my head, and sing the Ullagone
when all of a sudden the moon grew black, and I looked
up, and saw something for all the world as if it was
moving down between me and it, and I could not tell
what it was. Down it came with a pounce, and looked
at me full in the face ; and what was it but an eagle ?
as fine a one as ever flew from the kingdom of Kerry.
So he looked at me in the face, and says he to me,
T)aniel O Eourke, says he, how do you do? Very
106 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
well, I thank you, sir/ says I ; I hope you re well / won
dering out of my senses all the time how an eagle came
to speak like a Christian. What brings you here, Dan ?
says he. Nothing at all, sir/ says I ; only I wish I was
safe home again/ Is it out of the island you want to
go, Dan ? says he. f Tis, sir/ says I : so I up and told
him how I had taken a drop too much, and fell into
the water ; how I swam to the island ; and how I got into
the bog and did not know my way out of it. Dan/ says
he, after a minute s thought, though it is very improper
for you to get drunk on Lady-day, yet as you are a de
cent, sober man, who tends mass well and never flings
stones at me or mine, nor cries out after us in the fields
my life for yours/ says he; so get up on my back,
and grip me well for fear you d fall off, and I ll fly you
out of the bog/ I am afraid/ says I, your honor s
making game of me; for who ever heard of riding
a horseback on an eagle before ? Ton the honor of a
gentleman/ says he, putting his right foot on his breast,
I am quite in earnest: and so now either take my offer
or starve in the bog besides, I see that your weight is
sinking the stone.
"It was true enough as he said, for I found the stone
every minute going from under me. I had no choice;
so thinks I to myself, fain.t heart never won fair lady,
and this is fair persuadance. I thank your honor/ says
I, for the loan of your civility ; and I ll take your kind
offer.
"I therefore mounted upon the back of the eagle,
and held him tight enough by the throat, and up he flew
in the air like a lark. Little I knew the trick he was
going to serve me. Up up up, God knows how far up
he flew. Why then/ said I to him thinking he did
not know the right road home very civilly, because
why ? I was in his power entirely ; sir/ says I, please
your honor s glory, and with humble submission to your
better judgment, if you d fly down a bit, you re now just
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 107
over my cabin, and I could be put down there, and many
thanks to your worship.
fff Arrah, Dan/ said he, do you think me a fool?
Look down the next field, and don t you see two men
and a gun ? By my word it would be no joke to be shot
this way, to oblige a drunken blackguard that I picked
up off of a could stone in a bog. Bother you, said I
to myself, but I did not speak out, for where was the
use ? Well, sir, up he kept flying, flying, and I asking
him every minute to fly down, and all to no use. Where
in the world are you going, sir? says I to him. Hold
your tongue, Dan, says he : mind your own business,
and don t be interfering with the business of other peo
ple/ Faith, this is my business, I think, says I. Be
quiet, Dan, says he : so I said no more.
"At last where should we come to, but to the moon
itself. Now you can t see it from this, but there is, or
there was in my time, a reaping-hook sticking out of
the side of the moon, this way (drawing the figure thus
O on the ground with the end of his stick).
" Dan, said the eagle, I m tired with this long fly ; I
had no notion twas so far. And my lord, sir, said I,
who in the world axed you to fly so far was it I ? Did
not I beg and pray and beseech you to stop half an hour
ago ? There s no use talking, Dan, said he ; I m tired
bad enough, so you must get off, and sit down on the
moon until I rest myself. Is it sit down on the moon ?
said I; is it upon that little round thing, then? why,
then, sure I d fall off in a minute, and be kilt and spilt,
and smashed all to bits ; you are a vile deceiver so you
are. Not at all, Dan, said he ; you can catch fast hold
of the reaping-hook that s sticking out of the side of the
moon, and twill keep you up. I won t then, said I.
May be not, said he, quite quiet. If you don t, my
man, I shall just give you a shake, and one slap of my
wing, and send you down to the ground, where every
bone in your body will be smashed as small as a drop
108 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
<Df dew on a cabbage-leaf in the morning/ Why, then,
I m in a fine way/ said I to myself, ever to have come
along with the likes of you ; and so giving him a hearty
curse in Irish, for fear he d know what I said, I got off
ids back with a heavy heart, took hold of the reaping-
hook, and sat down upon the moon, and a mighty cold
seat it was, I can tell you that.
"When he had me there fairly landed, he turned about
on me, and said: Good-morning to you, Daniel
O Rourke/ said he; C I think I ve nicked you fairly now.
You robbed my nest last year ( twas true enough for
him, but how he found it out is hard to say), and in
return you are freely welcome to cool your heels dan
gling upon the moon like a cockthrow.
" Is that all, and is this the way you leave me, you
brute, you, says I. You ugly, unnatural baste, and is
this the way you serve me at last? Bad luck to your
self, with your hook d nose, and to all your breed, you
blackguard. Twas all to no manner of use ; he spread
out his great big wings, burst out a laughing, and flew
away like lightning. I bawled after him to stop; but
I might have called and bawled for ever, without his
minding me. Away he went, and I never saw him from
that day to this sorrow fly away with him ! You may
be sure I was in a disconsolate condition, and kept roar
ing out for the bare grief, when all at once a door opened
right in the middle of the moon, creaking on its hinges
as if it had not been opened for a month before, I sup
pose they never thought of greasing em, and out there
walks who do you think, but the man in the moon him
self ? I knew him by his bush.
Good morrow to you, Daniel O Kourke/ said he ;
how do you do ? Very well, thank your honor/ said
I. I hope your honor s well. What brought you here,
Dan ? said he. So I told him how I was a little over
taken in liquor at the master s, and how I was cast on a
dissolute island, and how I lost my way in the bog, an r
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 109
how the thief of an eagle promised to fly me out of it,
and how, instead of that, he had fled me up to the moon.
" Dan/ said the man in the moon, taking a pinch of
snuff when I was done, you must not stay here/ In
deed, sir/ says I, tis much against my will I m here
at all; but how am I to go back? That s your busi
ness/ said he; Dan, mine is to tell you that here you
must not stay; so be off in less than no time. I m
doing no harm/ says I, only holding on hard by the
reaping-hook, lest I fall off. That s what you must
not do, Dan/ says he. Pray, sir/ says I, may I ask
how many you are in family, that you would not give a
poor traveller lodging: I m sure tis not so often you re
troubled with strangers coming to see you, for tis a long
way. I m by myself, Dan/ says he; but you d better
let go the reaping-hook. Faith, and with your leave/
says I, I ll not let go the grip, and the more you bids
me, the more I won t let go; so I will. You had bpt-
ter, Dan/ says he again. Why, then, my little fellow/
says I, taking the whole weight of him with my eye from
head to foot, there are two words to that bargain ; and
I ll not budge, but you may if you like. We ll see how
that is to be/ says he ; and back he went, giving the door
such a great bang after him (for it was plain he was
huffed) that I thought the moon and all would fall down
with it.
"Well, I was preparing myself to try strength with
him, when back again he comes, with the kitchen cleaver
in his hand, and, without saying a word, he gives two
bangs to the handle of the reaping-hook that was keep
ing me up, and wliap! it came in two. Good-morning
to you, Dan/ says the spiteful little old blackguard,
when he saw me cleanlv falling down with a bit of the
handle in my hand; I thank you for your visit, and
fair weather after you, Daniel. I had not time to make
any answer to him, for I was tumbling over and over,
and rolling and rolling, at the rate of a fox-hunt. God
110 IMSH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
help me ! says I, but this is a pretty pickle for a decent
man to be seen in at this time of night: I am now sold
fairly/ The word was not out of my mouth when, whiz !
what should fly by close to my ear but a flock of wild
geese, all the way from my own bog of Ballyasheenogh,
else how should they know me? The ould gander, who
was their general, turning about his head, cried out to
me, Is that you, Dan ? The same/ said I, not a bit
daunted now at what he said, for I was by this time used
to all kinds of bedevilment, and, besides, I knew him of
ould. Good-morrow to you/ says he, Daniel O Rourke ;
how are you in health this morning? Very well, sir/
says I, I thank you kindly/ drawing my breath, for I
was mightily in want of some. I hope your honor s the
same/ I think tis falling you are, Daniel/ says he.
You may say that, sir/ says I. And where are you
going all the way so fast? said the gander. So I told
him how I had taken the drop, and how I came on the
island, and how I lost my way in the bog, and how the
thief of an eagle flew me up to the moon, and how the
man in the moon turned me out. Dan/ said he, I ll
save you: put out your hand and catch me by the leg,
and I ll fly you home/ Sweet is your hand in a pitcher
of honey, my jewel/ says I, though all the time I thought
within myself that I don t much trust you; but there
was no help, so I caught the gander by the leg, and
away I and the other geese flew after him fast as hops.
"We flew, and we flew, and we flew, until we came
right over the wide ocean. I knew it well, for I saw
Cape Clear to my right hand, sticking up out of the
water. Ah, my lord/ said I to the goose, for I thought
it best to keep a civil tongue in my head any way, fly
to land if you please/ It is impossible, you see, Dan/
said he, for a while, because you see we are going to
Arabia/ To Arabia P said I ; that s surely some place
in foreign parts, far away. Oh ! Mr. Goose : why then, to
be sure, I m a man to be pitied among you/ Whist,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 111
whist, you fool/ said he, Tiold your tongue; I tell you
Arabia is a very decent sort of place, as like West Car-
bery as one egg is like another, only there is a little
more sand there/
"Just as we were talking, a ship hove in sight, scud
ding so beautiful before the wind. Ah ! then, sir/ said
I, will you drop me on the ship, if you please? WV
are not fair over it/ said he ; if I dropped you now you
would go splash into the sea. I would not/ says I ; I
know better than that, for it is just clean under us, so
let me drop now at once/
" If you must, you must/ said he ; there, take your
own way/ and he opened his claw, and faith he was
right sure enough I came down plump into the very
bottom of the salt sea ! Down to the very bottom I went t
and I gave myself up then for ever, when a whalo
walked up to me, scratching himself after his night &
sleep, and looked me full in the face, and never tho
word did he say, but lifting up his tail, he splashed me
all over again with the cold salt water till there wasn t
a dry stitch upon my whole carcass ! and I heard some
body saying twas a voice I knew, too Get up, you
drunken brute, off o that/ and with that I woke up y
and there was Judy with a tub full of water, which
she was splashing all over me for, rest her soul ! though
she was a good wife, she never could bear to see me in
drink, and had a bitter hand of her own.
" Get up/ said she again: and of all places in the
parish would no place sarve your turn to lie down upon
but under the ould walls of Carrigapooka ? an uneasy
resting I am sure you had of it/ And sure enough I
had : for I was fairly bothered out of my senses with
eagles, and men of the moons, and flving ganders, and
whales, driving: me through bogs, and up to the moon,
and down to the bottom of the reen ocean. Tf I was in
drink ten times over, lone; would it be before I d lie
down in the same spot again, I know that."
112 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE KILDAEE POOKA *
PATRICK KENNEDY
MR. H. R , when he was alive, used to live a
good deal in Dublin, and he was once a great while out
of the country on account of the "ninety-eight" business.
But the servants kept on in the big house at Eath
all the same as if the family was at home. Well, they
used to be frightened out of their lives after going to
their beds with the banging of the kitchen-door, and
the clattering of fire-irons, and the pots and plates
and dishes. One evening they sat up ever so long, keep
ing one another in heart with telling stories about ghosts
and fetches, and that when what would you have of
it ? the little scullery boy that used to be sleeping over
the horses, and could not get room at the fire, crept into
the hot hearth, and when he got tired listening to the
stories, sorra fear him, but he fell dead asleep.
Well and good, after they were all gone and the
kitchen fire raked up, he was woke with the noise of
the kitchen door opening, and the trampling of an ass
on the kitchen floor. He peeped out, and what should
he see but a big ass, sure enough, sitting on his cura-
bingo and yawning before the fire. After a little he
looked about him, and began scratching his ears as if
he was quite tired, and says he, "I may as well begin
first as last." The poor boy s teeth began to chatter in
his head, for says he, "Now he s goin to ate me;" but
the fellow with the long ears and tail on him had some
thing else to do. He stirred the fire, and then he
brought in a pail of water from the pump, and filled a
big pot that he put on the fire before he went out. He
then put in his hand foot, I mean into the hot hearth,
and pulled out the little boy. He let a roar out of him
* Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts. Macmillan.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES lie
with the fright, but the pooka only looked at him, and
thrust out his lower lip to show how little he valued
him, and then he pitched him into his pew again.
Well, he then lay down before the fire till he heard
the boil coming on the water, and maybe there wasn t
a plate, or a dish, or a spoon on the dresser that he
didn t fetch and put into the pot, and wash and dry
the whole bilin of em as well as e er a kitchen-maid
from that to Dublin town. He then put all of them
up in their places on the shelves; and if he didn t give
a good sweepin to the kitchen, leave it till again. Then
he comes and sits foment the boy, let down one of his
ears, and cocked up the other, and gave a grin. The
poor fellow strove, to roar out, but not a dheeg ud come
out of his throat. The last thing the pooka done was to
rake up the fire, and walk out, giving such a slap o
the door, that the boy thought the house couldn t help
tumbling down.
Well, to be sure if there wasn t a hullabullo next morn
ing when the poor fellow told his story ! They could
talk of nothing else the whole day. One said one thing,
another said another, but a fat, lazy scullery girl said
the wittiest thing of all. "Musha!" says she, "if
the pooka does be cleaning up everything that way when
we are asleep, what should we be slaving ourselves for
doing his work?" "Shu gu dheine" * says another;
"them s the wisest words you ever said, Kauth ; it s mee-
self won t contradict you/
So said, so done. Not a bit of a plate or dish saw a
drop of water that evening, and not a besom was laid on
the floor, and every one went to bed soon after sundown.
Next morning everything was as fine as fine in the
kitchen, and the lord mayor might eat his dinner off the
flags. It was great ease to the lazy servants, you may
* Meant for seadh go deimhin i.e., yes, indeed.
114 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
depend, and everything went on well till a foolhardy
gag of a boy said he would stay up one night and have
a chat with the pooka.
He was a little daunted when the door was thrown
open and the ass marched up to the fire.
"And then, sir/ 5 says he, at last, picking up courage,
"if it isn t taking a liberty, might I ax who you are, and
why you are so kind as to do half of the day s work for
the girls every night?" "No liberty at all," says the
pooka, says he: "I ll tell you, and welcome. I was a
servant in the time of Squire B- s father, and was the
laziest rogue that ever was clothed and fed, and done
nothing for it. When my time came for the other
world, this is the punishment was laid on me to come
here and do all this labor every night, and then go out
in the cold. It isn t so bad in the fine weather; but if
you only knew what it is to stand with your head be
tween your legs, facing the storm, from midnight to sun
rise, on a bleak winter night." "And could we do any
thing for your comfort, my poor fellow?" says the boy.
"Musha, I don t know," says the pooka; "but I think a
good quilted frieze coat would help to keep the life in
me them long nights." "Why then, in troth, we d be
the ungratefullest of people if we didn t feel for
you."
To make a long story short, the next night but two
the boy was there again; and if he didn t delight the
poor pooka, holding up a fine warm coat before him, it s
no mather ! Betune the pooka and the man, his legs was
got into the four arms of it, and it was buttoned down
the breast and the belly, and he was so pleased he walked
up to the glass to see how he looked. "Well/ says he,
"it s a long lane that has no turning. I am much
obliged to you and your fellow-servants. You have made
me happy at last. Good-night to you."
So he was walking out, but the other cried, "Och!
sure you re going too soon. What about the washing and
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 115
sweeping?" "Ah, you may tell the girls that they
must now get their turn. My punishment was to last
rill I was thought worthy of a reward for the way I
done my duty. You ll see me no more." And no more
they did, and right sorry they were for having been in
such a hurry to reward the ungrateful pooka.
THE SOLITARY FAIRIES
THE BANSHEE
[THE banshee (from Ian [bean], a woman, and shee
[sidhe], a fairy) is an attendant fairy that follows the old
families, and none but them, and wails before a death.
Many have seen her as she goes wailing and clapping her
hands. The keen [caoine], the funeral cry of the peasantry,
is said to be an imitation of her cry. When more than one
banshee is present, and they wail and sing in chorus, it is
for the death of some holy or great one. An omen that
sometimes accompanies the banshee is the coach-a-l>ower
[coiste-bodhar ] an immense black coach, mounted by a cof
fin, and drawn by headless horses driven by a Dullahan.
It will go rumbling to your door, and if you open it, accord
ing to Croker, a basin of blood will be thrown in your face.
These headless phantoms are found elsewhere than in Ire
land. In 1807 two of the sentries stationed outside St.
James Park died of fright. A headless woman, the upper
part of her body naked, used to pass at midnight and scale
the railings. After a time the sentries were stationed no
longer at the haunted spot. In Norway the heads of corpses
were cut off to make their ghosts feeble. Thus came into
existence the Dullahans, perhaps; unless, indeed, they are
descended from that Irish giant who swam across the Chan
nel with his head in his teeth. ED.]
HOW THOMAS CONNOLLY MET THE
BANSHEE
J. TODHUNTEK
Aw, the banshee, sir ? Well, sir, as I was striving to
tell ye, I was going home from work one day, from Mr.
Cassidy s that I tould ye of, in the dusk o the evening.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALE 8 117
I had more nor a mile aye, it was nearer two mile to
thrack to, where I was lodgin with a dacent widdy
woman I knew, Biddy Maguire be name, so as to be near
me work.
It was the first week in November, an a lonesome road
I had to travel, an* dark enough, wid threes above it;
an about half-ways there was a bit of a brudge I had
to cross, over one o them little sthrames that runs into
the Doddher. I walked on in the middle iv the road,
for there was no toe-path at that time, Misther Harry,
nor for many a long day afther that; but, as I was
sayin , I walked along till I come nigh upon the brudge,
where the road was a bit open, an there, right enough,
I seen the hog s back o the ould-fashioned brudge that
used to be there till it was pulled down, an a white mist
steamin up out o the wather all around it.
Well, now, Misther Harry, often as I d passed by tha
place before, that night it seemed sthrange to me, an
like a place ye might see in a dhrame ; an as I come
up to it I began to feel a could wind blowin through
the hollow o me heart. "Musha Thomas," sez I to me-
self , "is it yerself that s in it ?" sez I ; "or, if it is, what s
the matter wid ye at all, at all ?" sez I ; so I put a bould
face on it, an I made a sthruggle to set one leg afore
the other, ontil I came to the rise o the brudge. And
there, God be good to us ! in a cantle o the wall I seen
an ould woman, as I thought, sittin on her hunkers, all
crouched together, an her head bowed down, seemin ly
in the greatest affliction.
Well, sir, I pitied the ould craythur, an thought I
wasn t worth a thraneen, for the mortial fright I was
in, I up an sez to her, "That s a cowld lodgin for ye,
ma am." Well, the sorra ha porth she sez to that, nor
tuk no more notice o me than if I hadn t let a word
out o me, but kep rockin herself to an fro, as if her
heart was breakin ; so I sez to her again, "Eh, ma am, is
there any thin the matther wid ye?" An I made for
118 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
to touch her on the shouldher, on y somethin stopt me,
for as I looked closer at her I saw she was no more an
ould woman nor she was an ould cat. The first thing
I tuk notice to, Misther Harry, was her hair, that was
sthreelin down over her showldhers, an a good yard on
the ground on aich side of her. 0, be the hoky farmer,
but that was the hair ! The likes of it I never seen on
mortial woman, young or ould, before nor sense. It
grew as sthrong out of her as out of e er a young slip
of a girl ye could see ; but the color of it was a misthery
to describe. The first squint I got of it I thought it sil
very gray, like an ould crone s ; but when I got up beside
her I saw, be the glance o the sky, it was a soart iv an
Iscariot color, an* a shine out of it like floss silk. It
ran over her showldhers and the two shapely arms she
was lanin 3 her head on, for all the world like Mary Mag
dalen s in a picther; and then I persaved that the gray
cloak and the green gownd undhernaith it was made of
no earthly malarial I ever laid eyes on. Now, I needn t
tell ye, sir, that I seen all this in the twinkle of a bed
post long as I take to make the narration of it. So I
made a step back from her, an "The Lord be betune us
an harm !" sez I, out loud, an wid that I blessed meself .
Well, Misther Harry, the word wasn t out o me mouth
afore she turned her face on me. Aw, Misther Harry,
but twas that was the awfullest apparation ever I seen,
the face of her as she looked up at me ! God forgive me
for sayin it, but twas more like the face of the "Axy
Homo" beyand in Marlboro Sthreet Chapel nor like any
face I could mintion as pale as a corpse, an a most o
freckles on it, like the freckles on a turkey s egg ; an the
two eyes sewn in wid red thread, from the terrible power
o crying the had to do ; an such a pair iv eyes as the
wor, Misther Harry, as blue as two forget-me-nots, an
as cowld as the moon in a bog-hole of a frosty night, an
a dead-an -live look in them that sent a cowld shiver
through the marra. o me bones. Be the mortial! ye
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 119
could ha rung a taycupful o cowld paspiration out o
the hair o me head that minute, so ye could. Well, I
thought the life ud lave me intirely when she riz up
from her hunkers, till, bedad ! she looked mostly as
tall as Nelson s Pillar ; an wid the two eyes gazin back
at me, an her two arms stretched out before hor, an a
keine out of her that riz the hair o me scalp till it was
as stiff as the hog s bristles in a new hearth broom, away
she glides glides round the angle o the brudge, an*
down with her into the sthrame that ran undhernaith
it. Twas then I began to suspect what she was. "Wisha,
Thomas !" says I to meself , sez I ; an I made a great
struggle to get me two legs into a throt, in spite o the
spavin o fright the pair o them wor in; an how I
brought meself home that same night the Lord in heaven
only knows, for I never could tell; but I must ha
tumbled agin the door, and shot in head foremost into
the middle o the flure, where I lay in a dead swoon for
mostly an hour ; and the first I knew was Mrs. Maguire
stannin over me with a jorum o punch she was pourin
down me throath (throat), to bring back the life into
me, an me head in a pool of cowld wather she dashed
over me in her first fright. "Arrah, Mister Connolly,"
shashee, "what ails ye ?" shashee, "to put the scare on a
lone woman like that?" shashee. "Am I in this world
or the next?" sez I. "Musha! where else would ye be
on y here in my kitchen?" shashee. "0, glory be to
God !" sez I, "but I thought I was in Purgathory at the
laste, not to mintion an uglier place," sez I, "only it s
too cowld I find meself, an not too hot," sez I. "Faix,
an maybe ye wor more nor half-ways there, on y for
me," shashee; "but what s come to you at all, at all?
Is it your fetch ye seen, Mister Connolly?" "Aw, na-
boclish !" * sez I. "Never mind what I seen," sez I,
So be degrees I began to come to a little ; an that s the
way I met the banshee, Misther Harry !
* Na lac lets i.e.. don t mind it.
120 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"But how did you know it really was the banshee
after all, Thomas ?"
"Begor, sir, I knew the apparation of her well enough ;
but twas confirmed by a sarcumstance that occurred the
same time. There was a Misther N ales was come on a
visit, ye must know, to a place in the neighborhood
one o the ould O Nales iv the county Tyrone, a rale
ould Irish family an the banshee was heard keening
round the house that same night, be more then one that
was in it ; an sure enough, Misther Harry, he was found
dead in his bed the next mornin . So if it wasn t the
banshee I seen that time, I d like to know what else il;
could a been."
A LAMENTATION
For the Death of Sir Maurice Fitzgerald, Knight, of Kerry,
who was killed in Flanders, 1642
FROM THE IRISH, BY CLARENCE MANGAN
THERE was lifted up one voice of woe,
One lament of more than mortal grief,
Through the wide South to and fro,
For a fallen Chief.
In the dead of night that cry thrilled through me,
I looked out upon the midnight air;
My own soul was all as gloomy,
As I knelt in prayer.
O er Loch Gur, that night, once twice yea, thrice
Passed a wail of anguish for the Brave
That half curled into ice
Its moon-mirroring wave.
Then up rose a many-toned wild hymn in
Choral swell from Ogra s dark ravine.
And Mogeely s Phantom Women
Mourned the Geraldine !
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Far on Carah Mona s emerald plains
Shrieks and sighs were blended many hours,
And Fermoy in fitful strains
Answered from her towers.
Youghal, Keenalmeaky, Eemokilly,
Mourned in concert, and their piercing keen
Woke- to wondering life the stilly
Glens of Inchiqueen.
From Loughmoe to yellow Dunanore
There was fear ; the traders of Tralee
Gathered up their golden store,
And prepared to flee;
For, in ship and hall from night till morning,
Showed the first faint beamings of the sun,
All the foreigners heard the warning
Of the Dreaded One !
"This," they spake, "portendeth death to us,
If we fly not swiftly from our fate !"
Self -conceited idiots ! thus
Ravingly to prate !
Not for base-born higgling Saxon trucksters
Ring laments like those by shore and sea !
Not for churls with souls like hucksters
Waileth our Banshee !
For the high Milesian race alone
Ever flows the music of her woe !
For slain heir to bygone throne,
And for Chief laid low !
Hark ! . . . Again, methinks, I hear her weeping
Yonder! Is she near me now, as then?
Or was but the night-wind sweeping
Down the hollow glen ?
123 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE BANSHEE OF THE MAC CARTHYS
T. CROFTON CROKER
CHARLES MAC CARTHY was, in the year 1749, the
only surviving son of a very numerous family. His
father died when he was little more than twenty, leaving
him the Mac Carthy estate, not much encumbered, con
sidering that it was an Irish one. Charles was gay,
handsome, unfettered either by poverty, a father, or
guardians, and therefore was not, at the age of one-and-
twenty, a pattern of regularity and virtue. In plain
terms, he was an exceedingly dissipated I fear I may
say debauched young man. His companions were, as
may be- supposed, of the higher classes of the youth in
his neighborhood, and, in general, of those whose for
tunes were larger than his own, whose dispositions to
pleasure were, therefore, under still less restrictions, and
in whose example he found at once an incentive and an
apology for his irregularities. Besides, Ireland, a place
to this day not very remarkable for the coolness and
steadiness of its youth, was then one of the cheapest
countries in the world in most of those articles which
money supplies for the indulgence of the passions. The
odious exciseman with his portentous book in one hand,
his unrelenting pen held in the other, or stuck beneath
his hat-band, and the ink-bottle ( black emblem of the
informer ) dangling from his waistcoat-button went
not then from ale-house to ale-house, denouncing all
those patriotic dealers in spirits, who preferred selling
whiskey, which had nothing to do with English laws
(but to elude them), to retailing that poisonous liquor,
which derived its name 1 from the British "Parliament"
that compelled its circulation among a reluctant people.
Or if the gauger recording angel of the law wrote
down the peccadillo of a publican, he dropped a tear
upon the word, and blotted it out for ever ! For, wel-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 123
come to the tables of their hospitable neighbors, the
guardians of the excise, where they existed at all, scru
pled to abridge those luxuries which they freely shared ;
and thus the competition in the market between the
smuggler, who incurred little hazard, and the personage
ycleped fair trader, who enjoyed little protection, made
Ireland a land flowing, not merely with milk and honey,
but with whiskey and wine. In the enjoyments supplied
by these, and in the many kindred pleasures to which
frail youth is but too prone, Charles Mac Carthy in
dulged to such a degree, that just about the time when
he had completed his four-and-twentieth year, after a
week of grea,t excesses, he was seized with a violent fever,
which, from its malignity, and the weakness of his
frame, left scarcely a hope of his recovery. His mother,
who had at first made many efforts to check his vices,
and at last had been obliged to look on at his rapid
progress to ruin in silent despair, watched day and night
at his pillow. The anguish of parental feeling was
blended with that still deeper misery which those only
know who have striven hard to rear in virtue and piety
a beloved and favorite child; have found him grow
up all that their hearts could desire, until he reached
manhood; and then, when their pride was highest, and
their hopes almost ended in the fulfilment of their fond
est expectations, have seen this idol of their affections
plunge headlong into a course of reckless profligacy,
and, after a rapid career of vice, hang upon the verge of
eternity, without the leisure or the power of repentance.
Fervently she prayed that, if his life could not be spared,
at least the delirium, which continued with increasing
violence from the first few hours of his disorder, might
vanish before death, and leave enough of light and or
calm for making his peace with offended Heaven. After
several davs, however, nature seemed quite exhausted,
and he sunk into a state too like death to be mistaken
for the repose of sleep. His face had that pale, glossy,
124 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
marble look, which is in general so sure a symptom that
life has left its tenement of clay. His eyes were closed
and sunk; the lids having that compressed and stif
fened appearance which seemed to indicate that some
friendly hand had done its last office. The lips, half
closed and perfectly ashy, discovered just so much of the
teeth as to give to the features of death their most
ghastly, but most impressive look. He lay upon his
back, with his hands stretched beside him, quite motion
less; and his distracted mother, after repeated trials,
could discover not the least symptom of animation. The
medical man who attended, having tried the usual modes
for ascertaining the presence of life, declared at last his
opinion that it was flown, and prepared to depart from
the house of mourning. His horse was seen to come to
the door. A crowd of people who were collected before
the windows, or scattered in groups on the lawn in front,
gathered around when the door opened. These were
tenants, fosterers, and poor relations of the family, w ith
others attracted by affection, or by that mterest which
partakes of curiosity, but is something more, and^which
collects the lower ranks round a house where a^isfaii
being is in his passage to another world. They saw the
professional man come out from the hall door and
approach his horse ; and while slowly, and with a melan
choly air, he prepared to mount, they clustered round
him with inquiring and wistful looks. Not a word was
spoken, but their meaning could not be misunderstood ;
and the physician, when he had got into his saddle, and
while the servant was still holding the bridle as if to
delay him, and was looking anxiously at his face as if
expecting that he would relieve the general suspense,
shook his head, and said in a low voice, "It s all over,
J ames ;" and moved slowly away. The moment he had
spoken, the women present, who were very numerous,
uttered a shrill cry, which, having been sustained for
about half a minute, fell suddenly into a full, loud,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 125
continued, and discordant but plaintive wailing, above
which occasionally were heard the deep sounds of a
man s voice, sometimes in deep sobs, sometimes in more
distinct exclamations of sorrow. This was Charles s
foster-brother, who moved about the crowd, now clap
ping his hands, now rubbing them together in an agony
of, grief. The poor fellow had been Charles s play
mate and companion when a boy, and afterward his
servant; had always been distinguished by his peculiar
regard, and loved his young master as much, at least, as
he did his own life.
When Mrs. Mac Carthy became convinced that the
blow was indeed struck, and that her beloved son was-
sent to his last account, even in the- blossoms of his sin,
she remained for some time gazing with fixedness upon
his cold features; then, as if something had suddenly
touched the string of her tenderest affections, tear after
tear trickled down her cheeks, pale with anxiety and
watching. Still she continued looking at her son, ap
parently unconscious that she was weeping, without once
lifting her handkerchief to her eyes, until reminded
of the sad duties which the custom of the country im
posed upon her, by the crowd of females belonging to
the better class of the peasantry, who now, crying audi
bly, nearly filled the apartment. She then withdrew,
to give directions for the ceremony of waking, and for
supplying the numerous visitors of all ranks with the
refreshments usual on these melancholy occasions.
Though her voice was scarcely heard, and though no one
saw her but the servants and one or two old followers
of the family, who assisted her in the necessary arrange
ments, everything was conducted with the greatest regu
larity; and though she made no effort to check her
sorrows they never once suspended her attention, now
more than ever required to preserve order in her house
hold, which, in this season of calamity, but for her
would have been all confusion.
126 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The night was pretty far advanced; the boisterous
lamentations which had prevailed during part of the
day in and about the house had given place to a solemn
and mournful stillness; and Mrs. Mac Carthy, whose
heart, notwithstanding her long fatigue and watching,
was yet too sore for sleep, was kneeling in fervent prayer
in a chamber adjoining that of her son. Suddenly her
devotions were disturbed by an unusual noise, proceed
ing from the persons who were watching round the
body. First there was a low murmur, then all was
silent, as if the movements of those in the chamber
were checked by a sudden panic, and then a loud cry
of terror burst from all within. The door of the cham
ber was thrown open, and all who were not overturned
in the press rushed wildly into the passage which led
to the stairs, and into which Mrs. Mac Car thy s room
opened. Mrs. Mac Carthy made her way through the
crowd into her son s chamber, where she found him
sitting up in the bed, and looking vacantly around, like
one risen from the grave. The glare thrown upon his
sunk features and thin, lathy frame gave an unearthly
horror to his whole aspect. Mrs. Mac Carthy was a
woman of some firmness; but she was a woman, and
not quite free from the superstitions of her country.
She dropped on her knees, and, clasping her hands, be
gan to pray aloud. The form before her moved only
its lips, and barely uttered "Mother"; but though the
pale lips moved, as if there was a design to finish the
sentence, the tongue refused its office. Mrs. Mac Carthy
sprung forward, and catching the arm of her son, ex
claimed, "Speak! in the name of God and His saints,
speak ! Are you alive ?"
He turned to her slowly, and said, speaking still with
apparent difficulty, "Yes, my mother, alive, and but sit
down and collect yourself; I have that to tell which
will astonish you still more than what you have seen/*
He leaned back upon his pillow, and while his mother
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 127
remained kneeling by the bedside, holding one of his
hands clasped in hers, and gazing on him with the look
of one who distrusted all her senses, he proceeded : "Do
not interrupt me until I have done. I wish to speak
while the excitement of returning life is upon me, as
I know I shall soon need much repose. Of the com
mencement of my illness, I have only a confused recol
lection; but within the last twelve hours I have been
before the judgment-seat of God. Do not stare incredu-
ously on me tis as true as have been my crimes, and
as, I trust, shall be repentance. I saw the awful Judge
arrayed in all the terrors which invest him when mercy
gives place to- justice. The dreadful pomp of offended
omnipotence, I saw I remember. It is fixed here;
printed on my brain in characters indelible; but it
passeth human language. What I can describe I will I
may speak it briefly. It is enough to say, I was weighed
in the balance, and found wanting. The irrevocable
sentence was upon the point of being pronounced; the
eye of my Almighty Judge, which had already glanced
upon me, half spoke my doom; when I observed the
guardian saint, to whom you so often directed my pray
ers when I was a child, looking at me with an expres
sion of benevolence and compassion. I stretched forth
my hands to him, and besought his intercession. I im
plored that one year, one month, might be given to
me on earth to do penance and atonement for my trans
gressions. He threw himself at the feet of my Judge,
and supplicated for mercy. Oh ! never not if I should,
pass through ten thousand successive states of being
never, for eternity, shall I forget the horrors of that
moment, when my fate hung suspended when an in
stant was to decide whether torments unutterable were
to be my portion for endless ages ! But Justice sus
pended its decree, and Mercy spoke in accents of firm
ness, but mildness, Return to that world in which thou
hast lived but to outrage the laws of Him who made
128 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
that world and thee. Three years are given thee for
repentance; when these are ended, thou shalt again
stand here, to be saved or lost for ever/ I heard no
more ; I saw no more, until I awoke to life, the moment
before you entered/
Charles s strength continued just long enough to fin
ish these last words, and on uttering them he closed his
eyes, and lay quite exhausted. His mother, though,
as was before said, somewhat disposed to give credit to
supernatural visitations, yet hesitated whether or not
she should believe that, although awakened from a swoon
which might have been the crisis of his disease, he was
still under the influence of delirium. Repose, however,
was at all events necessary, and she took immediate
measures that he should enjoy it undisturbed. After
some hours sleep, he awoke refreshed, and thencefor
ward gradually but steadily recovered.
Still he persisted in his account of the vision, as he
had at first related it; and his persuasion of its reality
had an obvious and decided influence 011 his habits and
conduct. He did not altogether abandon the society
of his former associates, for his temper was not soured
by his reformation; but he never joined in their ex
cesses, and often endeavored to reclaim them. How his
pious exertions succeeded, I have never learned; but of
himself it is recorded that he was religious without os
tentation, and temperate without austerity; giving a
practical proof that vice may be exchanged for virtue,
without the loss of respectability, popularity, or happi
ness.
Time rolled on, and long before the three years were
ended the story of his vision was forgotten, or, when
spoken of, was usually mentioned as an instance proving
the folly of believing in such things. Charles s health,
from the temperance and regularity of his habits, be
came more robust than ever. His friends, indeed, had
often occasion to rally him upon a seriousness and ah-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 129
stractedness of demeanor, which grew upon him as he
approached the completion of his seven-and-twentieth
year, but for the most part his manner exhibited the
same animation and cheerfulness for which he had al
ways been remarkable. In company he evaded every
endeavor to draw from him a distinct opinion on the
subject of the supposed prediction ; but among his own
family it was well known that he still firmly believed it.
However, when the day had nearly arrived on which
the prophecy was, if at all, to be fulfilled, his whole ap
pearance gave such promise of a long and healthy life,
that he was persuaded by his friends to ask a large
party to an entertainment at Spring House, to celebrate
his birthday. But the occasion of this party, and the
circumstances which attended it, will be best learned
from a perusal of the following letters, which have been
carefully preserved by some relatives of his family. The
first is from Mrs. Mac Carthy to a lady, a very near con
nection and valued friend of hers, who lived in the
county of Cork, at about fifty miles distance from
Spring House.
""TO MRS. BARRY, CASTLE BARRY.
" Spring House, Tuesday Morning,
"October 15, 1752.
"MY DEAREST MARY :
"I am afraid I am going to put your affection for
your old friend and kinswoman to a severe trial. A
two days journey at this season, over bad roads and
through a troubled country, it will indeed require friend
ship such as yours to persuade a sober woman to encoun
ter. But the truth is, I have, or fancy I have, more
than usual cause for wishing you near me. You know
my son s story. I can t tell you how it is, but as next
Sunday approaches, when the prediction of his dream,
or vision, will be proved false or true, I feel a sicken
ing of the heart, which I cannot suppress, but which
130 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
your presence, my dear Mary, will soften, as it has done
so many of my sorrows. My nephew, James Eyan, is
to be married to Jane Osborne (who, you know, is my
son s ward), and the bridal entertainment will take
place here on Sunday next, though Charles pleaded
hard to have it postponed for a day or two longer.
Would to God but no more of this till we meet. Do
prevail upon yourself to leave your good man for one
week, if his farming concerns will not admit of his ac
companying you ; and come to us, with the girls, as soon
before Sunday as you can.
"Ever my dear Mary s attached cousin and friend,
"ANN MAC CARTHY."
Although this letter reached Castle Barry early on
Wednesday, the messenger having travelled on foot over
bog and moor, by paths impassable to horse or carriage,
Mrs. Barry, who at once determined on going, had so
many arrangements to make for the regulation of her
domestic affairs (which, in Ireland, among the middle
orders of the gentry, fall soon into confusion when the
mistress of the family is away), that she and her two
young daughters were unable to leave until late on the
morning of Friday. The eldest daughter remained to
keep her father company, and superintend the concerns
of the household. As the travellers were to journey in
an open one-horse vehicle, called a jaunting-car (still
used in Ireland), and as the roads, bad at all times,
were rendered still worse by the heavy rains, it was
their design to make two easy stages to stop about
midway the first night, and reach Spring House early
on Saturday evening. This arrangement was now al
tered, as they found that from the lateness of their de
parture they could proceed, at the utmost, no farther
than twenty miles on the first day; and they, therefore,
purposed sleeping at the house of a Mr. Bourke, a friend
of theirs, who lived at somewhat less than that distance
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 131
from Castle Barry. They reached Mr. Bourke s in safety
after a rather disagreeable ride. What befell them on
their journey the next day to Spring House, and after
their arrival there, is fully recounted in a letter from
the second Miss Barry to her eldest sister.
" Spring House, Sunday Evening,
"October 20, 1752.
"DEAK ELLEN:
"As my mother s letter, which encloses this, will an
nounce to you briefly the sad intelligence which I shall
here relate more fully, I think it better to go regularly
through the recital of the extraordinary events of the
last two days.
"The Bourkes kept us up so late on Friday night that
yesterday was pretty far advanced before we could begin
our journey, and the day closed when we were nearly
fifteen miles distant from this place. The roads were
excessively deep, from the heavy rains of the last week,
and we proceeded so slowly that, at last, my mother re
solved on passing the night at the house of Mr. Bourke s
brother (who lives about a quarter-of-a-mile off the
road), and coming here to breakfast in the morning.
The day had been windy and showery, and the sky
looked fitful, gloomy, and uncertain. The moon was
full, and at times shone clear and bright; at others it
was wholly concealed behind the thick, black, and rugged
masses of clouds that rolled rapidly alonsr, and were
every moment becoming larger, and collecting together
as if gathering strength for a coming storm. The wind,,
which blew in our faces, whistled bleakly along the lo^v
hedges of the narrow road, on which wo proceeded with
difficulty from the number of deep sloughs, and which
afforded not the least shelter, no plantation being within
some miles of us. My mother, therefore, asked Leary.,
who drove the jaunting-car, how far we were from Mr,
Bourke s. Tis about ten spades from this to thtf
132 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
cross, and we have then only to turn to the left into
the avenue, ma am. Very well, Leary; turn up to Mr.
Bourke s as soon as you reach the cross roads/ My
mother had scarcely spoken these words, when a shriek,
that made us thrill as if our very hearts were pierced
by it, burst from the hedge to the right of our way.
If it resembled anything earthly it seemed the cry of
a female, struck by a sudden and mortal blow, and
giving out her life in one long, deep pang of expiring
agony. Heaven defend us ! exclaimed my mother. Go
you over the hedge, Leary, and save that woman, if she
is not yet dead, while we run back to the hut we have
just passed, and alarm the village near it/ Woman /
said Leary, beating the horse violently, while his voice
trembled, that s no woman; the sooner we get on,
ma am, the better; and he continued his efforts to
quicken the horse s pace. We saw nothing. The moon
was hid. It was quite dark, and we had been for some
time expecting a heavy fall of rain. But just as Leary
had spoken, and had succeeded in making the horse trot
briskly forward, we distinctly heard a loud clapping
of hands, followed by a succession of screams, that
seemed to denote the last excess of despair and anguish,
and to issue from a person running forward inside the
hedge, to keep pace with our progress. Still we saw
nothing; until, when we were within about ten yards of
the place where an avenue branched off to Mr. Bourke s
to the left, and the road turned to Spring House on
the right, the moon started suddenly from behind a
cloud, and enabled us to see, as plainly as I now see this
paper, the figure of a tall, thin woman, with uncovered
head, and long hair that floated round her shoulders,
attired in something which seemed either a loose white
cloak or a sheet thrown hastily about her. She stood
on the corner hedge, where the road on which we were
met that which leads to Spring House, with her face
toward us, her left hand pointing to this place, and
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES . 133
her right arm waving rapidly and violently as if to draw
us on in that direction. The horse had stopped, appar
ently frightened at the sudden presence of the figure,
which stood in the manner I have described, still utter
ing the same piercing cries, for about half a minute.
It then leaped upon the road, disappeared from our
view for one instant, and the next was seen standing
upon a high wall a little way up the avenue on which
we purposed going, still pointing toward the road to
Spring House, but in an attitude of defiance and com
mand, as if prepared to oppose our passage up the
avenue. The figure was now quite silent, and its gar
ments, which had before flown loosely in the wind, were
closely wrapped around it. Go on, Leary, to Spring
House, in God s name P said my mother ; whatever
world it belongs to, we will provoke it no longer/ Tis
the Banshee, ma am/ said Leary; and I would not, for
what my life is worth, go anywhere this blessed night
but to Spring House. But I m. afraid there s something
bad going forward, or she would not send us there/
So saying, he drove forward; and as we turned on the
road to the right, the moon suddenly withdrew its light,
and we saw the apparition no more; but we heard
plainly a prolonged clapping of hands, gradually dying
away, as if it issued from a person rapidly retreating.
We proceeded as quickly as the badness of the roads
and the fatigue of the poor animal that drew us would
allow, and arrived here about eleven o clock last night.
The scene which awaited us you have learned from my
mother s letter. To explain it fully, I must recount to
you some of the transactions which took place here dur
ing the last week.
"You are aware that Jane Osborne was to have been
married this day to James Ryan, and that they and their
friends have been here for the last week. On Tuesday
last, the very day on the morning of which cousin
Mac Carthy despatched the letter inviting us here, the
134 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALEr
whole of the company were walking about the grounds
a little before dinner. It seems that an unfortunate
creature, who had been seduced by James Ryan, was
seen prowling in the neighborhood in a moody, melan
choly state for some days previous. He had separated
from her for several months, and, they say, had pro
vided for her rather handsomely; but she had been
seduced by the promise of his marrying her; and the
shame of her unhappy condition, uniting with disap
pointment and jealousy, had disordered her intellects.
During the whole forenoon of this Tuesday she had
been walking in the plantations near Spring House, with
her cloak folded tight round her, the hood nearly cover
ing her face; and she had avoided conversing with ol
even meeting any of the family.
"Charles Mac Carthy, at the time I mentioned, was
walking between James Ryan and another, at a little
distance from the rest, on a gravel path, skirting a
shrubbery. The whole party was thrown into the ut
most consternation by the report of a pistol, fired from
a thickly planted part of the shrubbery which Charles
and his companions had just passed. He fell instantly,
and it was found that he had been wounded in the leg.
One of the party was a medical man. His assistance was
immediately given, and, on examining, he declared that
the injury was very slight, that no bone was broken,
it was merely a flesh wound, and that it would certainly
be well in a few days. We shall know more by Sun
day/ said Charles, as he was carried to his chamber.
His wound was immediately dressed, and so slight
was the inconvenience which it gave that several of
his friends spent a portion of the evening in his
apartment.
"On inquiry, it was found that the unlucky shot was
fired by the poor girl I just mentioned. It was also
manifest that she had aimed, not at Charles, but at the
destroyer of her innocence and happiness, who was walk-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 135
ing beside him. After a fruitless search for her through
the grounds, she walked into the house of her own ac
cord, laughing and dancing, and singing wildly, and
every moment exclaiming that she had at last killed
Mr. Eyan. When she heard that it was Charles, and
not Mr. Ryan, who was shot, she fell into a violent
fit, out of which, after working convulsively for some
time, she sprung to the door, escaped from the crowd
that pursued her, and could never be taken until last
night, when she was brought here, perfectly frantic, a
little before our arrival.
"Charles s wound was thought of such little conse
quence that the preparations went forward, as usual,
for the wedding entertainment on Sunday. But on
Friday night he grew restless and feverish, and on Sat
urday (yesterday) morning felt so ill that it was deemed
necessary to obtain additional medical advice. Two phy
sicians and a surgeon met in consultation about twelve
o clock in the day, and the dreadful intelligence was
announced, that unless a change, hardly hoped for, took
place before night, death must happen within twenty-
four hours after. The wound, it seems, had been too
tightly bandaged, and otherwise injudiciously treated.
The physicians were right in their anticipations. No
favorable symptom appeared, and long before we reached
Spring House every ray of hope had vanished. The
scene we witnessed on our arrival would have wrung
the heart of a demon. We heard briefly at the gate
that Mr. Charles was upon his death-bed. When we
reached the house, the information was confirmed by
the servant who opened the door. But just as we en
tered we were horrified by the most appalling screams
issuing from the staircase. Mv mother thought she
heard the voice of poor Mrs. Mac Carthy, and sprang
forward. We followed, and on ascending a few steps
of the stairs, we found a young woman, in a state of
frantic passion, struggling furiously with two men-
136 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
servants, whose united strength was hardly sufficient
to prevent her rushing upstairs over the body of Mrs.
Mac Carthy, who was lying in strong hysterics upon the
steps. This, I afterward discovered, was the unhappy
girl I before described, who was attempting to gain
access to Charles s room, to get his forgiveness/ as she
said, before he went away to accuse her for having
killed him/ This wild idea was mingled with another,
which seemed to dispute with the former possession of
her mind. In one sentence she called on Charles to for
give her, in the next she would denounce James Eyan
as the murderer, both of Charles and her. At length
she was torn away; and the last words I heard her
scream were, James Ryan, twas you killed him, and
not I ! twas you killed him, and not I !
"Mrs. Mac Carthy, on recovering, fell into the arms
of my mother, whose presence seemed a great relief
to her. She wept the first tears:, I was told, that she
had shed since the fatal accident. She conducted us
to Charles s room, who, she said, had desired to see us
the moment of our arrival, as he found his end ap
proaching, and wished to devote the last hours of his
existence to uninterrupted prayer and meditation. We
found him perfectly calm, resigned, and even cheerful.
He spoke of the awful event which was at hand with
courage and confidence, and treated it as a doom for
which he had been preparing ever since his former re
markable illness, and which he never once doubted was
truly foretold to him. He bade us farewell with the
air of one who was about to travel a short and easy
journey; and we left him with impressions which, not
withstanding all their anguish, will, I trust, never en
tirely forsake us.
"Poor Mrs. Mac Carthy but I am just called away.
There seems a slight stir in the family ; perhaps "
The above letter was never finished. The enclosure
to which it more than once alludes told the sequel
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 137
briefly, and it is all that I have further learned of the
family of Mac Carthy. Before the sun had gone down
upon Charles s seven-and-twentieth birthday, his soul
had gone to render its last account to its Creator,
GHOSTS
GHOSTS, or as they are called in Irish, Thevshi or Tash
(taidhbhse, tain), live in a state intermediary between this
life and the next. They are held there by some earthly
longing or affection, or some duty unfulfilled, or anger
against the living. "I will haunt you," is a common threat;
and one hears such phrases as, "She will haunt him, if
she has any good in her." If one is sorrowing greatly after
a dead friend, a neighbor will say, "Be quiet now, you are
keeping him from his rest ;" or, in the Western Isles, accord
ing to Lady Wilde, they will tell you, "You are waking the
dog that watches to devour the souls of the dead." Those
who die suddenly, more commonly than others, are believed
to become haunting Ghosts. They go about moving the
furniture, and in every w r ay trying to attract attention.
When the soul has left the body, it is drawn away, some
times, by the fairies. I have a story of a peasant who once
saw, sitting in a fairy rath, all who had died for years in
his village. Such souls are considered lost. If a soul eludes
the fairies, it may be snapped up by the evil spirits. The
weak souls of young children are in especial danger. When
a very young child dies, the western peasantry sprinkle the
threshold with the blood of a chicken, that the spirits may
be drawn away to the blood. A Ghost is compelled to obey
the commands of the living. "The stable-boy up at Mrs.
G s there," said an old countryman, "met the master
going round the yards after he had been two days dead,
and told him to be away with him to the lighthouse, and
haunt that; and there he is far out to sea still, sir. Mrs.
G was quite wild about it, and dismissed the boy." A
very desolate lighthouse, poor devil of a Ghost ! Lady Wilde
considers it is only the spirits who are too bad for heaven,
and too good for hell, who are thus plagued. They are com
pelled to obey some one they have wronged.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 139
The souls of the dead sometimes take the shapes of ani
mals. There is a garden at Sligo where the gardener sees
a previous owner in the shape of a rabbit. They will some
times take the forms of insects, especially of butterflies. If
you see one fluttering near a corpse, that is the soul, and is
a sign of its having entered upon immortal happiness. The
author of the Parochial Survey of Ireland, 1814, heard a
woman say to a child who was chasing a butterfly, "How do
you know it is not the soul of your grandfather?" On No
vember eve the dead are abroad, and dance with the fairies.
As in Scotland, the fetch is commonly believed in. If you
see the double, or fetch, of a friend in the morning, no ill
f ollows ; if at night, he is about to die.
A DEEAM
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
I HEAED the dogs howl in the moonlight night ;
I went to the window to see the sight;
All the Dead that ever I knew
Going one by one and two by two.
On they pass d, and on they pass d;
Townsfellows all, from first to last;
Born in the moonlight of the lane,
Quench d in the heavy shadow again.
Schoolmates, marching as when we play d
At soldiers once but now more staid ;
Those were the strangest sight to me
Who were drowned, I knew, in the awful sea.
Straight and handsome folk; bent and weak, too;
Some that I loved, and gasp d to speak to ;
Some but a day in their churchyard bed;
Some that I had not known were dead.
140 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
A long, long crowd where each seemed lonely,
Yet of them all there was one, one only,
Raised a head or looked my way.
She lingered a moment she might not stay.
How long since I saw that fair pale face !
Ah! Mother dear! might I only place
My head on thy breast, a moment to rest,
While thy hand on my tearful cheek were pressed!
On, on, a moving bridge they made
Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade,
Young and old, women and men;
Many long-forgot, but remembered then.
And first there came a bitter laughter ;
A sound of tears the moment after;
And then a music so lofty and gay,
That every morning, day by day,
I strive to recall it if I may.
GRACE CONNOR
MISS LETITIA MACLINTQCK
THADY and Grace Connor lived on the borders of a
large turf bog, in the parish of Clondevaddock, where
they could hear the Atlantic surges thunder in upon the
shore, and see the wild storms of winter sweep over the
Muckish mountain, and his rugged neighbors. Even in
summer the cabin by the bog was dull and dreary
enough.
Thady Connor worked in the fields, and Grace made
a livelihood as a pedlar, carrying a basket of remnants
of cloth, calico, drugget, and frieze about the country^
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 141
The people rarely visited any large town, and found it
convenient to buy from Grace, who was welcomed in
many a lonely house, where a table was hastily cleared,
that she might display her wares. Being considered a
very honest woman, she was frequently entrusted with
commissions to the shops in Letterkenny and Kamel-
ton. As she set out toward home, her basket was gen
erally laden with little gifts for her children.
"Grace, dear," would one of the kind housewives say,
"here s a f arrel * of oaten cake, wi a taste o butter on
it; tak it wi you for the weans/ or, "Here s half-a-
dozen of eggs ; you ve a big family to support."
Small Connors of all ages crowded round the weary
mother, to rifle her basket of these gifts. But her
thrifty, hard life came suddenly to an end. She died
after an illness of a few hours, and was waked and
buried as handsomely as Thady could afford.
Thady was in bed the night after the funeral, and
the fire still burned brightly, when he saw his departed
wife cross the room and bend over the cradle. Terri
fied, he muttered rapid prayers, covered his face with
the blanket; and on looking -up again the appearance
was gone.
Next night he lifted the infant out of the cradle, and
laid it behind him in the bed, hoping thus tor escape his
ghostly visitor; but Grace was presently in the room,,
and stretching ove-r him to wrap up her child. Shrink
ing and shuddering, the poor man exclaimed : "Grace,
woman, what is it brings you back? What is it you
want wi me ?"
"I want naething fae you, Thady, but to put thon
wean back in her cradle," replied the specter, in a tone
of scorn. " You re too feared for me, but my sister
* When a large, round, flat griddle cake is divided into
triangular cuts, each of these cuts is called a farrel, farli,
or parli
142 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Rose willna be feared for me tell her to meet me to
morrow evening, in the old wallsteads."
Rose lived with her mother, about a mile off, but she
obeyed her sister s summons without the least fear, and
kept the strange tryst in due time.
"Rose, dear," she said, as she appeared before her sis
ter in the old wallsteads, "my mind s oneasy about them
twa red shawls that s in the basket. Matty Hunter and
Jane Taggart paid me for them, an I bought them wi
their money, Friday was eight days. Gie them the
shawls the morrow. An old Mosey McCorkell gied
me the price o a wiley coat; it s in under the other
things in the basket. An now farewell; I can get to
my rest."
"Grace, Grace, bide a wee minute," cried the faithful
sister, as the dear voice grew fainter, and the dear face
began to fade : "Grace, darling ! Thady ? The- chil
dren ? One word mair !" but neither cries nor tears
could further detain the spirit hastening to its rest !
A LEGEND OF TYRONE
ELLEN O LEARY
CKOUCHED round a bare hearth in hard, frosty weather,
Three lonely, helpless weans cling close together;
Tangled those gold locks, once bonnie and bright
There s no one to fondle the baby to-night.
"My mammie I want ; oh ! m^ mainmie I want !"
The big tears stream down with the low wailing chant,
Sweet Eily s slight arms enfold the gold head:
"Poor weeny Willie, CTire mammie is dead
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 143
And daddie is crazy from drinking all day
Come down, holy angels, and take: us away I"
Eily and Eddie keep kissing and crying
Outside, the weird winds are sobbing and sighing.
All in a moment the children are still,
Only a quick coo of gladness from Will.
The sheeling no longer seems empty or bare,
For, clothed in soft raiment, the mother stands there.
They gather around her, they cling to her dress;
She rains down soft kisses for each shy caress.
Her light, loving touches smooth out tangled locks,
And, pressed to her bosom, the baby she rocks.
He lies in his cot, there s a fire on the hearth;
To Eily and Eddy tis heaven on earth,
For mother s deft fingers have been everywhere ;
She lulls them to rest in the low suggaun * chair.
They gaze open-eyed, then the eyes gently close,
As petals fold into the heart of a rose,
But ope soon again in awe, love, but no fear,
And fondly they murmur, "Our mammie is here."
She lays them down softly, she wraps them around;
They lie in sweet slumbers, she starts at a sound,
The cock loudly crows, and the spirit s away
The drunkard steals in at the dawning of day.
Again and again, tween the dark and the dawn,
Glides in the dead mother to nurse Willie Bawn :
Or is it an angel who sits by the hearth?
An angel in heaven, a mother on earth.
* Chair made of twisted straw ropes.
144 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE BLACK LAMB *
LADY WILDE
IT is a custom among the people, when throwing
away water at night, to cry out in a loud voice, "Take
care of the water;" or literally, from the Irish, "Away
with, yourself from the water" for they say that the
spirits of the. dead last buried are then wandering
about, and it would be dangerous if the water fell on
them.
One dark night a woman suddenly threw out a. pail
of boiling water without thinking of the warning words.
Instantly a cry was heard, as of a person in pain, but
no one was. seen. However, the next night a black
lamb entered the house, having the back all fresh
scalded, and it lay down moaning by the hearth and
died. Then they all knew that this- was the spirit that
had been scalded, by the- woman, and they carried the
dead lamb oat reverently, and buried it deep in the
earth. Yet every night at the same hour it walked
again into the house, and lay down, moaned, and died;
and after this had happened many times, the priest was
sent for, and finally, by the strength of his exorcism,
the spirit of the dead was laid to rest; the black lamb
appeared no more. Neither was the body of the dead
lamb found in the grave when they searched for it,
though it had been laid by their own hands deep in the
earth, and covered with clay.
SONG OF THE GHOST
ALFRED PERCIVAL GRAVES
WHEN" all were dreaming
But Pastheen Power,
A light came streaming
Beneath her bower :
* Ancient Legends of Ireland
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 145
A heavy foot
At her door delayed,
A heavy hand
On the latch was- laid.
"Now who dare venture,
At this dark hour,
Unbid to enter
My maiden bower ?"
"Dear Pastheen, open
The door to me,
And your true lover
You ll surely see."
"My own true lover,
So tall and brave,
Lives exiled over
The angry wave."
"Your true love s body
Lies on the bier,
His faithful spirit
Is with you here."
"His look was cheerful,
His voice was gay;
Your speech is fearful,
Your face is gray;
And sad and sunken
Your eye of blue,
But Patrick, Patrick,
Alas! tis you!"
Ere dawn was breaking
She heard below
The two cocks shaking
Their wings to crow.
116 IRISH XAlltf ASiti FOLK TALES
"Oh, hush you, hush you,
Both red and gray,
Or you will hurry
My love away.
*0h, hush your crowing,
Both gray and red,
Or he ll be going
To join the dead ;
Or, cease from calling
His ghost to the mould,
And I ll come crowning
Your combs with gold."
When all were dreaming
But Pastheen Power,
A light went streaming
From out her bower;
And on the morrow,
When they awoke,
They knew that sorrow
Her heart had broke.
THE KADIANT BOY
MBS. CEOW
CAPTAIN STEWART, afterward Lord Castlereagh, when
he was a young man, happened to be quartered in Ire
land. He was fond of sport, and one day the pursuit
of game carried him so far that he lost his way. The
weather, too, had become very rough, and in this strait
he presented himself at the door of a gentleman s house,
and sending in his card, requested shelter for the night.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 147
The hospitality of the Irish country gentry is prover
bial; the master of the house received him warmly;
said he feared he could not make him so comfortable as
he could have wished, his house being full of visitors
already, added to which, some strangers, driven by the
inclemency of the night, had sought shelter before him, %
but such accommodation as he could give he was heartily
welcome to; whereupon he called his butler, and com
mitting the guest to his good offices, told him he must
put him up somewhere, and do the best he could for
him. There was no lady, the gentleman being a
widower.
Captain Stewart found the house crammed, and a
very jolly party it was. His host invited him to stay,
and promised him good shooting if he would prolong his
visit a few days: and, in fine, he thought himself ex
tremely fortunate to have fallen into such pleasant
quarters.
At length, after an agreeable evening, they all retired
to bed, and the butler conducted him to a large room,
almost divested of furniture, but with a blazing turf
fire in the grate, and a- shake-down on the floor, com
posed of cloaks and other heterogeneous materials.
Nevertheless, to the tired limbs of Captain Stewart,
who had had a hard day s shooting, it looked very in
viting; but before he lay down, he thought it advisable
to take off some of the fire, which was blazing up the
chimney in what he thought an alarming manner. Hav
ing done this, he stretched himself on his couch and
soon fell asleep.
He believed he had slept about a couple of hours when
he awoke suddenly, and was startled by such a vivid
light in the room that he thought it on fire, but on
turning to look at the grate he saw the fire was out,
though it was from the chimney the light proceeded.
He sat up in bed, trying to discover what it was, when
he perceived the form of a beautiful naked boy, sur-
148 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
rounded by a dazzling radiance. The boy looked at
him earnestly, and then the vision faded, and all was
dark. Captain Stewart, so far from supposing what he
had seen to be of a spiritual nature, had no doubt
that the host, or the visitors, had been trying to frighten
him. Accordingly, he felt indignant at the liberty,
and on the following morning, when he appeared at
breakfast, he took care to evince his displeasure by the
reserve of his demeanor, and by announcing his inten
tion to depart immediately. The host expostulated, re
minding him of his promise to stay and shoot. Captain
Stewart coldly excused himself, and, at length, the gen
tleman seeing something was wrong, took him aside, and
pressed for an explanation ; whereupon Captain Stewart,
without entering into particulars, said he had been made
the victim of a sort of practical joking that he thought
^uite unwarrantable with a stranger.
The gentleman considered this not impossible among
a parcel of thoughtless young men, and appealed to them
to make an apology ; but one and all, on honor, denied
the impeachment. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike
him ; he clapped his hand to his forehead, uttered an ex
clamation, and rang the bell.
"Hamilton," said he to the butler; "where did Cap
tain Stewart sleep last night ?"
<f Well, sir/ replied the man; "you know every place
was full the gentlemen were lying on the floor, three
or four in a room so I gave him the Boy s Room ; but
I lit a blazing fire to keep him from coming out."
"You were very wrong," said the host; "you know
I have positively forbidden you to put anyone there,
and have taken the furniture out of the room to insure
its not being occupied." Then, retiring with Captain
Stewart, he informed him, very gravely, of the nature
of the phenomena he had seen; and at length, being
pressed for further information, he confessed that there
existed a tradition in the family, that whoever the
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 149
"Kadiant boy" appeared to will rise to the summit of
power; and when he has reached the climax, will die a
violent death, and I must say, he added, that the records
that have been kept of his appearance go to confirm
this persuasion.
THE FATE OF FKANK M KENNA
WILLIAM CARLETON"
THERE lived a man named M Kenna at the hip of
one of the mountainous hills which divide the county of
Tyrone from that of Monaghan. This M Kenna had
two sons, one of whom was in the habit of tracing hares
of a Sunday whenever there happened to be a fall of
snow. His father, it seems, had frequently remonstrated
with him upon what he considered to be a violation of
the Lord s day, as well as for his general neglect of
mass. The young man, however, though otherwise
harmless and inoffensive, was in this matter quite in>
sensible to paternal reproof, and continued to trace
whenever the avocations of labor would allow him. It
so happened that upon a Christmas morning, I think in
the year 1814, there was a deep fall of snow, and young
M Kenna, instead of going to mass, got down his cock-
stick which is a staff much thicker and heavier at
one end than at the other and prepared to set out on
his favorite amusement. His father, seeing this, re
proved him seriously, and insisted that he should attend
prayers. His enthusiasm for the sport, however, was
stronger than his love of religion, and he refused to be
guided by his father s advice. The old man during
the altercation got warm; and on finding that the son
obstinately scorned his authority, he knelt down and
prayed that if the boy persisted in following his own
will, he. might never return from the mountains unless
150 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
as a corpse. The imprecation, which was certainly as
harsh as it was impious and senseless, might have star
tled many a mind from a purpose that was, to say the
least of it, at variance with religion and the respect due
to a father. It had no effect, however, upon the son,
who is said to have replied, that whether he ever re
turned or not, he was determined on going; and go ac
cordingly he did. He was not, however, alone, for it
appears that three or four of the neighboring young
men accompanied him. Whether their sport was good
or otherwise, is not to the purpose, neither am I able
to 1 say; but the story goes that towards the latter part
of the day they started a larger and darker hare than
any they had ever seen, and that she kept dodging on
before them bit by bit, leading them to suppose that
every succeeding cast of the cock-stick would bring her
down. It was observed afterward that she also led them
into the recesses of the mountains, and that although
they tried to turn her course homeward, they could not
succeed in doing so. As evening advanced, the com
panions of M Kenna began to feel the folly of pursuing
her farther, and to perceive the danger of losing their
way in the mountains should night or a snow storm
come upon them. They therefore proposed to give over
the chase and return home; but M Kenna would not
hear of it. "If you wish to go home, you may," said
he ; "as for me, I ll never leave the hills till I have her
with me." They begged and entreated of him to de
sist and return, but all to no purpose; he appeared to
be what the Scotch call fey that is, to act as if he were
moved by some impulse that leads to death, and from
the influence of which a man cannot withdraw himself.
At length, on finding him invincibly obstinate, they left
him. pursuing the hare directly into the heart of the
mountains, and returned to their respective homes.
In. the meantime one of the most terrible snowstorms
ever remembered in that part of the country came on,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 151
and the consequence was, thai the self-willed young man,
who had equally trampled on the sanctities of religion
and parental authority, was given over for lost. As soon
as the tempest became still, the neighbors assembled in
a body and proceeded to look for him. The snow, how
ever, had fallen so heavily that not a single mark of a
footstep could be seen. Nothing but one wide waste
of white undulating hills met the eye wherever it turned,
and of M Kenna no trace whatever was visible or could
be found. His father, now remembering the unnatural
character of his imprecation, was nearly distracted; for
although the body had not yet been found, still by every
one who witnessed the sudden rage of the storm and
who knew the mountains, escape or survival was felt to
be impossible. Every day for about a week large par
ties were out among the hill-ranges seeking him, but to
no purpose. At length there came a thaw, and his body
was found on a snow-wreath, lying in a supine posture
within a circle which he had drawn around him with
his cock-stick. His prayer book lay opened upon his
mouth, and his hat was pulled down so as to cover
it and his face. It is unnecessary to say that the rumor
of his death, and of the circumstances under which he
left home, created a most extraordinary sensation in the
country a sensation that was the greater in proportion
to the uncertainty occasioned by his not having been
found either alive or dead. Some affirmed that he had
crossed the mountains, and was seen in Monas^han;
others, that he had been seen in Clones, in Emyvale,
in Five-mile-town; but despite of all these agreeable
reports, the melancholy truth was at length made clear
by the appearance of the body as just stated.
Now, it so happened that the house nearest the spot
where he lay was inhabited by a man named Daly, I
think but of the name I am not certain who was a
herd or caretaker to Dr. Porter, then Bishop of Clogher.
The situation of this house was the most lonely and
152 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
desolate looking that could be imagined. It was at
least two miles distant from any human habitation, be
ing surrounded by one wide and dreary waste of dark
moor. By this house lay the route of those who had
found the corpse, and I believe the door of it was bor
rowed for the purpose of conveying it home. Be this
as it may, the family witnessed the melancholy proces
sion as it passed slowly through the mountains, and
when the place and circumstances are all considered,
we may admit that to ignorant and superstitious people,
whose minds, even upon ordinary occasions, were
strongly affected by such matters, it was a sight calcu
lated to leave behind it a deep, if not a terrible im
pression. Time soon proved that it did so.
An incident is said to have occurred at the funeral
in fine keeping with the wild spirit of the whole mel
ancholy event. When the procession had advanced to a
place called Mullaghtinny, a large dark-colored hare,
which was instantly recognized by those who had been
out with him on the hills, as the identical one that led
him to his fate, is said to have crossed the roads about
twenty yards or so before the coffin. The story goes,
that a man struck it on the side with a stone, and that
the blow, which would have killed any ordinary hare,
not only did it no injury, but occasioned a sound to pro
ceed from the body resembling the hollow one emitted
by an empty barrel when struck.
In the meantime the interment took place, and the
sensation began, like every other, to die away in the nat
ural progress of time, when, behold, a report ran abroad
like wildfire that, to use the language of the people,
"Frank M Kenna was appearing!"
One night, about a fortnight after his funeral, the
daughter of Daly, the herd, a girl about fourteen, while
lying in bed saw what appeared to be the likeness of
M Kenna, who had been lost. She screamed out, and
covering her head with the bed clothes, told her father
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 153
and mother that Frank M Kenna was in the house. This
alarming intelligence naturally produced great terror;
still, Daly, who, notwithstanding his belief in such mat
ters, possessed a good deal of moral courage, was cool
enough to rise and examine the house, which consisted
of only one apartment. This gave the daughter some
courage, who, on finding that her father could not
see him, ventured to look out, and she then could see
nothing of him herself.
Accordingly she very soon fell asleep, and her
father attributed what she had seen to fear or some ac
cidental combination of shadows proceeding from the
furniture, for it was a clear moonlight night. The
light of the following day dispelled a great deal of their
apprehensions, and comparatively little was thought of
it until evening again advanced, when the fears of the
daughter began to return. They appeared to be pro
phetic, for she said when night came that she knew he
would appear again; and accordingly at the same hour
he did so. This was repeated for several successive
nights, until the girl, from the very hardihood of terror,
began to become so far familiarized to the specter as to
venture to address it.
"In the name of God !" she asked, "what is troubling
you, or why do you appear to me instead of to some
of your own family or relations ?"
The ghost s answer alone might settle the question
involved in the authenticity of its appearance, being,
as it was, an account of one of the most ludicrous mis
sions that ever a spirit was despatched upon.
"Fm not allowed/ said he, "to spake to any of my
friends, for I parted wid them in anger; but I m come
to tell you that they are quarrelin about my breeches
a new pair that I got made for Christmas day ; an as I
was comin up to thrace in the mountains, I thought the
ould one ud do betther, an of coorse I didn t put the
new pair an me. My raison for appearing" he added,
154 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"is, that you may tell my friends that none of them is
to wear them they must be given in charity."
This serious and solemn intimation from the ghost
was duly communicated to the family, and it was found
that the circumstances were exactly as it had represented
them. This, of course, was considered as sufficient proof
of the truth of its mission. Their conversations now
became not only frequent, but quite friendly and fa
miliar. The girl became a favorite with the specter,
and the specter, on the other hand, soon lost all his
terrors in her eyes. He told her that while his friends
were bearing home his body, the handspikes or poles
on which they carried him had cut his back, and occa
sioned him great pain! The cutting of the back also
was known to be true, and strengthened, of course, the
truth and authenticity of their dialogues. The whole
neighborhood was now in a commotion with this story
of the apparition, and persons incited by curiosity be
gan to visit the girl in order to satisfy themselves of
the truth of what they had heard. Everything, how
ever, was corroborated, and the child herself, without
any symptoms of anxiety or terror, artlessly related her
conversations with the spirit. Hitherto their interviews
had been all nocturnal, but now that the ghost found
his footing made good, he put a hardy face on, and
ventured to appear by daylight. The girl also fell into
states of syncope, and while the fits lasted, long con
versations with him upon the subject of God, the blessed
Virgin, and Heaven, took place between them. He was
certainly an excellent moralist, and gave the best advice.
Swearing, drunkenness, theft, and every evil propensity
of our nature, were declaimed against with a degree of
spectral eloquence quite surprising. Common fame had
now a topic dear to her heart, and never was a ghost
made more of by his best friends than she made of him.
The whole country was in a tumult, and I well remem
ber the crowds which flocked to the lonely little cabin
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 155
in the mountains, now the scene of matters so interest
ing and important. Not a single day passed in which
I should think from ten to twenty, thirty, or fifty per
sons were not present at these singular interviews.
Nothing else was talked of, thought of, and, as I can
well testify, dreamt of. I would myself have gone to
Daly s were it not for a confounded misgiving I had,
that perhaps the ghost might take a fancy of appearing
to me, as he had taken to cultivate an intimacy with
the girl; and it so happens, that when I see the face
of an individual nailed down in the coffin chilling and
gloomy operation ! I experience no particular wish to
look upon it again.
The spot where the body of M Kenna was found is
now marked by a little heap of stones, which has been
collected since the melancholy event of his death. Every
person who passes it throws a stone upon the heap;
but why this old custom is practiced, or what it means,
I do not know, unless it be simply to mark the spot
as a visible means of preserving the memory of the
occurrence.
Daly s house, the scene of the supposed apparition,
is now a shapeless ruin, which could scarcely be seen
were it not for the green spot that once was a garden,
and which now shines at a distance like an emerald, but
with no agreeable or pleasing associations. It is a spot
which no solitary schoolboy will ever visit, nor indeed
would the unflinching believer in the popular nonsense
of ghosts wish to pass it without a companion. It is,
under any circumstances, a gloomy and barren place;
but when looked upon in connection with .what we have
just recited, it is lonely, desolate, and awful.
WITCHES, FAIRY DOCTORS
WITCHES and fairy doctors receive their power from op
posite dynasties; the witch from evil spirits and her own
malignant will; the fairy doctor from the fairies, and a
something a temperament that is born with him or her.
The first is always feared and hated. The second is gone to
for advice, and is never worse than mischievous. The most
celebrated fairy doctors are sometimes people the fairies
loved and carried away, and kept with them for seven
years; not that those the fairies love are always carried
oft they may merely grow silent and strange, and take to
lonely wanderings in the "gentle" places. Such will, in
after-times, be great poets or musicians, or fairy doctors;
they must not be confused with those who have a Lianhaun
sliee [leanndn-sidhc], for the Lianhaun shee lives upon the
vitals of its chosen, and they waste and die. She is of the
dreadful solitary fairies. To her have belonged the greatest
of the Irish poets, from Oisin down to the last century.
Those we speak of have for their friends the trooping
fairies the gay and sociable populace of raths and caves.
Great is their knowledge of herbs and spells. These doc
tors, when the butter will not come on the milk, or the
milk will not come from the cow, will be sent for to find out
if the cause be in the course of common nature or if there
has been witchcraft. Perhaps some old hag in the shape
of a hare has been milking the cattle. Perhaps some user
of "the dead hand" has drawn away the butter to her own
churn. Whatever it be, there is the counter-charm. They
will give advice, too, in cases of suspected changelings, and
prescribe for the "fairy blast" (when the fairy strikes any
one a tumor rises, or they become paralyzed. This is called
a "fairy blast" or a "fairy stroke"). The fairies are, of
course, visible to them, and many a new-built house have
they bid the owner pull down because it lay on the fairies
road. Lady Wilde thus describes one who lived in Innis
Sark: "He never touched beer, spirits, or meat in all his
life, but has lived entirely on bread, fruit, and vegetables.
A man who knew him thus describes him Winter and sum
mer his dress is the same merely a flannel shirt and coat.
He will pay his share at a feast, but neither eats nor drinks
of the food and drink set before him. He speaks no English,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 157
and never could be made to learn the English tongue, though
he says it might be used with great effect to curse oner s
enemy. He holds a burial-ground sacred, and would not
carry away so much as a leaf of ivy from a grave . And he
maintains that the people are right to keep to their ancient
usages, such as never to dig a grave on a Monday, and to
carry the coffin three times round the grave, following the
course of the sun, for then the dead rest in peace. Like
the people, also, he holds suicides as accursed ; for they be
lieve that all its dead turn over on their faces if a suicide
is laid among them.
" Though well off, he never, even in his youth, thought of
taking a wife; nor was he ever known to love a woman.
He stands quite apart from life, and by this means holds
his power over the mysteries. No money will tempt him to
impart his knowledge to another, for if he did he would be
struck dead so he believes. He would not touch a hazel
stick, but carries an ash wand, which he holds in his hand
when he prays, laid across his knees ; and the whole of his
life is devoted to works of grace and charity, and though
now an old man, he has never had a day s sickness. No one
has ever seen him in a rage, nor heard an angry word from
his lips but once, and then being under great irritation,
he recited the Lord s Prayer backward as an imprecation on
his enemy. Before his death he will reveal the mystery of
his power, but not till the hand of death is on him for
certain. " When he does reveal it, we may be sure it will
be to one person only his successor. There are several
such doctors in County Sligo, really well up in herbal medi
cine by all accounts, and my friends find them in their own
counties. All these things go on merrily. The spirit of the
age laughs in vain, and is itself only a ripple to pass, or
already passing, away.
The spells of the witch are altogether different; they
smell of the grave. One of the most powerful is the charm
of the dead hand. With a hand cut from a corpse they,
muttering words of power, will stir a well and skim from
its surface a neighbor s butter.
A candle held between the fingers of the dead hand can
never be blown out. This is useful to robbers, but they
appeal for the suffrage of the lovers likewise, for they can
make love-potions by drving and grinding into powder the
liver of a black cat. Mixed with tea. and poured from a
black teapot, it is infallible. There are many stories of its
success in quite recent years, but, unhappily, the spell must
158 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
be continually renewed, or all the love may turn into hate.
But the central notion of witchcraft everywhere is the
power to change into some fictitious form, usually in Ireland
a hare or a cat. Long ago a wolf was the favorite. Before
Giraldus Canibrensis came to Ireland, a monk wandering
in a forest at night came upon two wolves, one of whom
was dying. The other entreated him to give the dying wolf
the last sacrament. He said the mass, and paused when he
came to the viaticum. The other, on seeing this, tore the
skin from the breast of the dying wolf, laying bare the form
of an old woman. Thereon the monk gave the sacrament.
Years afterward he confessed the matter, and when Giraldus
visited the country, was being tried by the synod of the
bishops. To give the sacrament to an animal was a great
sin. Was it a human being or an animal? On the advice
of Giraldus they sent the monk, with papers describing the
matter, to the Pope for his decision. The result is not
stated.
Giraldus himself was of opinion that the wolf -form was
an illusion, for, as he argued, only God can change the form.
His opinion coincides with tradition, Irish and otherwise.
It is the notion of many who have written about these
things that magic is mainly the making of such illusions.
Patrick Kennedy tells a story of a girl who, having in her
hand a sod of grass containing, unknown to herself, a four-
leaved shamrock, watched a conjurer at a fair. Now, the
four-leaved shamrock guards its owner from all pishogues
(spells), and when the others were staring at a cock carry
ing along the roof of a shed a huge beam in its bill, she
asked them what they found to wonder at in a cock with a
straw. The conjurer begged from her the sod of grass, to
give to his horse, he said. Immediately she cried out in
terror that the beam would fall and kill somebody.
This, then, is to be remembered the form of an enchanted
thing is a fiction and a caprice.
BEWITCHED BUTTEB (DONEGAL)
MISS LETITIA MACLINTOCK
NOT far from Bathmullen lived, last spring, a family
called Hanlon; and in a farmhouse, some fields distant,
people named Dogherty. Both families had good cows,
but the Hanlons were fortunate in possessing a Kerry
cow that gave more milk and yellower butter than the
others.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 159
Grace Dogherty, a young girl, who was more admired
than loved in the neighborhood, took much interest in
the Kerry cow, and appeared one night at Mrs. Han-
Ion s door with the modest request
"Will you let me milk your Moiley cow ?"
"An* why wad you wish to milk wee Moiley, Grace,
dear ?" inquired Mrs. Hanlon.
"Oh, just becase you re sae throng at the present
time."
"Thank you kindly, Grace, but I m no too throng to
do my ain work. I ll no trouble you to milk."
The girl turned away with a discontented air ; but the
next evening, and the next, found her at the cow-house
door with the same request.
At length Mrs. Hanlon, not knowing well how to per
sist in her refusal, yielded, and permitted Grace to milk
the Kerry cow.
She soon had reason to regret her want of firmness.
Moiley gave no more milk to her owner.
When this melancholy state of things lasted for three
days, the Hanlons applied to a certain Mark McCarrion,
who lived near Binion.
"That cow has been milked by someone with an evil
eye," said he. "Will she give you a wee drop, do you
think ? The full of a pint measure wad do."
"Oh, ay, Mark, dear; I ll get that much milk frae
her, anyway."
"Weel, Mrs. Hanlon, lock the door, an get nine new
pins that was never used in clothes, an put them into a
saucepan wi the pint o milk. Set them on the fire,
an let them come to the boil."
The nine pins soon began to simmer in Moiley s* milk.
* In Connaught called a "mweeal" cow i.e., a cow with
out horns. Irish maol, literally, blunt. When the new ham-
merless breech-loaders came into use two or three years
ago, Mr. Douglas Hyde heard a Connaught gentleman spealj
of them as the "mweeal" guns, because they had no cocks.
160 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Eapid steps were heard approaching the door, agitated
knocks followed, and Grace Dogherty s high-toned voice
was raised in eager entreaty.
"Let me in, Mrs. Hanlon I 9 she cried. "Tak off that
cruel pot ! Tak out them pins, for they re pricking holes
in my heart, and I ll never otter to touch milk of yours
again/
[There is hardly a village in Ireland where the milk is
not thus believed to have been stolen times upon times.
There are many counter-charms. Sometimes the coulter of
a plough will be heated red-hot, and the witch will rush in,
crying out that she is burning. A new horse-shoe or donkey-
^hoe, heated and put under the churn, with three straws, if
possible, stolen at midnight from over the witc* ^s door, is
quite infallible. ED.]
A QUEEN S COUNTY WITCH*
IT was about eighty years ago, in the month of May,
that a Eoman Catholic clergyman, near Eathdowney, in
the Queen s County, was awakened at midnight to at
tend a dying man in a distant part of the parish. The
priest obeyed without a murmur, and having performed
his duty to the expiring sinner, saw him depart this
world before he left the cabin. As it was yet dark, the
man who had called on the priest offered to accompany
him home, but he refused, and set forward on his jour
ney alone. The gray dawn began to appear over the
hills. The good priest was highly enraptured with the
beauty of the scene, and rode on, now gazing intently
at every surrounding object, and again cutting with his
whip at the bats and big beautiful night-flies which
flitted ever and anon from hedge to hedge across his
lonely way. Thus engaged, he journeyed on slowly,
until the nearer approach of sunrise began to render
* Dublin University Review, 1839.
1KI8H FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 161
objects completely discernible, when he dismounted from
his horse, and slipping his arm out of the rein, and
drawing forth his "Breviary" from his pocket, he com
menced reading his "morning office" as he walked lei
surely along.
He had not proceeded very far, when he observed his
horse, a very spirited animal, endeavoring to stop oil
the road, and gazing intently into a field on one side*
of the way where there were three or four cows grazing.
However, he did not pay any particular attention to
this circumstance, but went on a little further, when the
horse suddenly plunged with great violence, and en
deavored to break away by force. The priest with great
difficulty succeeded in restraining him, and, looking at
him more closely, observed him shaking from head to
foot, and sweating profusely. He now stood calmly, and
refused to move from where he was, nor could threats
or entreaty induce him to proceed. The father was
greatly astonished, but recollecting to have often heard
of horses laboring under affright being induced to go
by blindfolding them, he took out his handkerchief and
tied it across his eyes. He then mounted, and, striking
him gently, he went forward without reluctance, but
still sweating and trembling violently. They had not
gone far, when they arrived opposite a narrow path or
bridle-way, flanked at either side by a tall, thick hedge,
which led from the high road to the field where the
cows were grazing. The priest happened by chance to
look into the lane, and saw a spectacle which made the
bloocj curdle in his veins. It was the legs of a man from
the hips downward, without head or body, trotting up the
avenue at a smart pace. The good father was very much
alarmed, but, being a man of strong nerve, he resolved,
come what might, to stand, and be further acquainted
with this singular specter. He accordingly stood, and
eo did the headless apparition, as if afraid to approach
163 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
him. The priest, observing this, pulled back a little
from the entrance of the avenue, and the phantom
again resumed its progress. It soon arrived on the
road, and the priest now had sufficient opportunity to
view it minutely. It wore yellow buckskin breeches,
tightly fastened at the knees with green ribbon; it had
neither shoes nor stockings on, and its legs were cov
ered with long, red hairs, and all full of wet, blood,
and clay, apparently contracted in its progress through
the thorny hedges. The priest, although very much
alarmed, felt eager to examine the phantom, and for
this purpose summoned all his philosophy to enable him
to speak to it. The ghost was now a little ahead, pur
suing its march at its usual brisk trot, and the priest
urged on his horse speedily until he came up with it,
and thus addressed it
"Hilloa, friend ! who art thou, or whither art thou
going so early?"
The hideous specter made no reply, but uttered a
fierce and superhuman growl, or "Umph."
"A fine morning for ghosts to wander abroad," again
said the priest.
Another "Umph" was the reply.
"Why don t you speak?"
"Umph."
"You don t seem disposed to be very loquacious this
morning."
"Umph," again.
The good man began to feel irritated at the obstinate
silence of his unearthly visitor, and said, with some
warmth :
"In the name of all that s sacred, I command you to
answer me, Who art thou, or where art thou traveling ?"
Another "Umph," more loud and more angry than
before, was the only reply.
"Perhaps," said the father, "a taste of whipcord might
render you a little more communicative;" and so say-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 163
ing, he struck the apparition a heavy blow with his whip
on the breech.
The phantom uttered a wild and unearthly yell, and
fell forward on the road, and what was the priest s as
tonishment when he perceived the whole place running
over with milk. He was struck dumb with amazement;
the prostrate phantom still continued to eject vast quan
tities of milk from every part; the priest s head swam,
his eyes got dizzy ; a stupor came all over him for some
minutes, and on his recovering, the frightful specter
had vanished, and in its stead he found stretched on the
road, and half drowned in milk, the form of Sarah Ken
nedy, an old woman of the neighborhood, who had been
long notorious in that district for her witchcraft and
superstitious practices, and it was now discovered that
she had, by infernal aid, assumed that monstrous shape,
and was employed that morning in sucking the cows
of the village. Had a volcano burst forth at his feet,
he could not be more astonished ; he gazed awhile in
silent amazement the old woman groaning, and writh
ing convulsively.
"Sarah," said he, at length, "I have long admonished
you to repent of your evil ways, but you were deaf to
my entreaties; and now, wretched woman, you are sur
prised in the midst of your crimes."
"Oh, father, father," shouted the unfortunate woman,
"can you do nothing to save me? I am lost; hell is
open for me, and legions of devils surround me this
moment, waiting to carry my soul to perdition."
The priest had not power to reply; the old wretch s
pains increased; her body swelled to an immense size;
her eyes flashed as if on fire, her face was black as night,
her entire form writhed in a thousand different contor
tions; her outcries were appalling, her face sunk, her
eyes closed, and in a few minutes she expired in the
most exquisite tortures.
The priest departed homeward, and called at the
164 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
next cabin to give notice of the strange circumstances.
The remains of Sarah Kennedy were removed to her
cabin, situated at the edge of a small wood at a little
distance. She had long been a resident in that neigh
borhood, but still she was a stranger, and came there
no one knew from whence. She had no relation in that
country but one daughter, now advanced in years, who
resided with her. She kept one cow, but sold more
butter, it was said, than any farmer in the parish, and
it was generally suspected that she acquired it by devil
ish agency, as she never made a secret of being inti
mately acquainted with sorcery and fairyism. She pro
fessed the Roman Catholic religion, but never complied
with the practices enjoined by that church, and her re
mains were denied Christian sepulture, and were buried
in a sand-pit near her own cabin.
On the evening of her burial, the villagers assembled
and burned her cabin to the earth. Her daughter made
her escape, and never after returned.
THE WITCH HAEE
ME. AND MRS. S. C. HALL
I WAS out thracking hares meeself, and I seen a fine
puss of a thing hopping, hopping in the moonlight, and
whacking her ears about, now up, now down, and wink
ing her great eyes, and "Here goes," says I, and the
thing was so close to me that she turned round and
looked at me, and then bounced back, as well as to say,
do your worst! So I had the least grain in life of
blessed powder left, and I put it in the gun and bang
at her ! My jewel, the scritch she gave would frighten
a rigment, and a mist, like, came betwixt me and her,
and I seen her no more; but when the mist wint off
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 16$
I saw blood on the spot where she had been, and I fol
lowed its track, and at last it led me whist, whisper
right up to Katey MacShane s door ; and when I was at
the threshold, I heerd a murnin within, a great murn
in , and a groaning and I opened the door, and there
she was herself, sittin quite content in the shape of a
woman, and the black cat that was sittin by her rose
up its back and spit at me ; but I went on never heeding
and asked the ould - how she was and what ailed her.
"Nothing," sis she.
"What s that on the floor?" sis I.
"Oh," she says, "I was cuttin* a billet of wood," she
says, "wid the reaping hook," she says, "an* I ve
wounded meself in the leg," she says, "and that s drops
of my precious blood," she says.
BEWITCHED BUTTER (QUEEN S COUNTY).*
ABOUT the commencement of the last century there
lived in the vicinity of the once famous village of Agha-
voef a wealthy farmer, named Bryan Costigan. This
man kept an extensive dairy and a great many milch
cows, and every year made considerable sums by the
sale of milk and butter. The luxuriance of the pasture
lands in this neighborhood has always been proverbial;
and, consequently, Bryan s cows were the finest and most
* Dublin University Magazine, 1839.
f Aghavoe "the field of kine" a beautiful and romantic
village near Borris-in-Ossory, in the Queen s County. It
was once a place of considerable importance, and for cen
turies the episcopal seat of the diocese of Ossory, but for
ages back it has gone to decay, and is now remarkable for
nothing but the magnificent ruins of a priory of the Domini
cans, erected here at an early period by St. Canice, the
patron saint of Ossory.
166 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
productive in the country, and his milk and butter the
richest and sweetest, and brought the highest price at
every market at which he offered these articles for sale.
Things continued to go on thus prosperously with
Bryan Costigan, when, one season, all at once, he found
his cattle declining in appearance, and his dairy almost
entirely profitless. Bryan, at first, attributed this change
to the weather, or some such cause, but soon found or
fancied reasons to assign it to a far different source.
The cows, without any visible disorder, daily declined,
and were scarcely able to crawl about on their pasture;
many of them, instead of milk, gave nothing but blood ;
and the scanty quantity of milk which some of them con
tinued to supply was so bitter that even the pigs would
not drink it; while the butter which it produced was
of such a bad quality, and stunk so horribly, that the
very dogs would not eat it. Bryan applied for remedies
to all the quacks and "fairy-women" in the country
but in vain. Many of the impostors declared that the
mysterious malady in his cattle went beyond their skill ;
while others, although they found no difficulty in tracing
it to superhuman agency, declared that they had no
control in the matter, as the charm under the influence
of which his property was made away with, was too
powerful to be dissolved by anything less than the spe
cial interposition of Divine Providence. The poor
farmer became almost distracted; he saw ruin staring
him, in the face ; yet what was he to do ? Sell his cattle
and purchase others ! No ; that was out of the question,
as they looked so miserable and emaciated that no one
would even take them as a present, while it was also
impossible to sell to a butcher, as the flesh of one which
he killed for his own family was as black as a coal,
and stunk like any putrid carrion.
The unfortunate man was thus completely bewildered.
He knew not what to do; he became moody and stupid;
his sleep forsook him by night, and all day he wandered
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 167
about the fields, among his "fairy-stricken" cattle like
a maniac.
Affairs continued in this plight, when one very sultry
evening in the latter days of July, Bryan Costigan s wife
was sitting at her own door, spinning at her wheel, in
a very gloomy and agitated state of mind. Happening
to look down the narrow green lane which led from
the high road to her cabin, she espied a little old woman
barefoot, and enveloped in an old scarlet cloak, ap
proaching slowly, with the aid of a crutch which she
carried in one hand, and a cane or walking-stick in
the other. The farmer s wife felt glad at seeing the
odd-looking stranger; she smiled, and yet she knew not
why, as she neared the house. A vague and indefinable
feeling of pleasure crowded on her imagination; and,
as the old woman gained the threshold, she bade her
"welcome" with a warmth which plainly told that her
lips gave utterance but to the genuine feelings of he*
heart.
"God bless this good house and all belonging to it/
said the stranger as she entered.
"God save you kindly, and you are welcome, whoevei
you are," replied Mrs. Costigan.
"Hem, I thought so," said the old woman with a sig
nificant grin. "I thought so, or I wouldn t trouble you. J
The farmer s wife ran, and placed a chair near the
fire for the stranger, but she refused, and sat on the
ground near where Mrs. C. had been spinning. Mrs.
Costigan had now time to survey the old hag s person
minutely. She appeared of great age; her countenance
was extremely ugly and repulsive; her skin was rough
and deeply embrowned as if from long exposure to the
effects of some tropical climate; her forehead was low,
narrow, and indented with a thousand wrinkles ; her
long gray hair fell in matted elf-locks from beneath a
white linen skull cap; her eyes were bleared, blood-
sotten, and obliquely set in their sockets, and her voice
I 68 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
was croaking, tremulous, and, at times, partially inar
ticulate. As she squatted on the floor, she looked round
the house with an inquisitive gaze; she peered pryingly
from corner to corner, with an earnestness of look, as
if she had the faculty, like the Argonaut of old, to see
through the very depths of the earth, while Mrs. C.
kept watching her motions with mingled feelings of cu
riosity, awe, and pleasure.
"Mrs.," said the- old woman, at length breaking si
lence, "I am dry with the heat of the day; can you
give me a drink ?"
"Alas \" replied the farmer s wife, "I have no drink to
offer you except water, else you would have no occasion
to ask me for it."
"Are you not the owner of the cattle I see yonder?"
said the old hag, with a tone of voice and manner of
gesticulation which plainly indicated her foreknowledge
of the fact.
Mrs. Costigan replied in the affirmative, and briefly
related to her every circumstance connected with the
affair, while the old woman still remained silent, but
shook her gray head repeatedly; and still continued
gazing round the house with an air of importance and
self-sufficiency.
When Mrs". C. had ended, the old hag remained a
while as if in a deep reverie ; at length she said :
"Have you any of the milk in the house ?"
"I have," replied the other.
"Show me some of it."
She filled a jug from a vessel and handed it to the
old sybil, who smelled it, then tasted it, and spat out
what she had taken on the floor.
"Where is your husband ?" she asked.
"Out in the fields," was the reply.
"I must see him."
A messenger was despatched for Bryan, who shortly
after made his appearance.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Neighbor," said the stranger, "your wife informs
me that your cattle are going against you this season."
"She informs you right," said Bryan.
"And why have you not sought a cure ?"
"A cure I" re-echoed the man ; "why, woman, I have
sought cures until I was heart-broken, and all in vain;
they get worse every day."
"What will you give me if I cure* them for you ?"
"Anything in our power," replied Bryan and his- wife,
both speaking joyfully, and with a breath.
"All I will ask from you is a silver sixpence, and
that you will do everything which I will bid you/
said she.
The farmer and his wife seemed astonished at the
moderation of her demand. They offered her a large
sum of money.
"No," said she, "T don t want your money; I am no
cheat, and I would not even take sixpence, but that I
can do nothing till I handle some of your silver."
The sixpence was immediately given her, and the most
implicit obedience promised to her injunctions by both
Bryan, and his wife, who already began to regard the
okl beldame as their tutelary angel.
The hag pulled off a black silk ribbon or filet which
encircled her head inside her cap, and gave it to Bryan,
saying :
"Go, now, and the first cow you touch with this rib
bon, turn her into the yard, but be sure don t touch
the second, nor speak a word until you return ; be also
careful not to let the ribbon touch the ground, for, if
you do, all is over."
Bryan took the talismanic ribbon, and soon returned,
driving a red cow before him.
The old hag went out, and, approaching the cow,
commenced pulling hairs out of her tail, at the same
time singing some verse in the Irish language, in a low,
wild, and unconnected strain. The cow appeared restive
170 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
and uneasy, but the old witch still continued her mys
terious chant until she had the ninth hair extracted.
She then ordered the cow to be drove back to her pas
ture, and again entered the house.
"Go, now/** said she to the woman, "and bring me
some milk from every cow in your possession."
She went, and soon returned with a large pail fillec 1
with a frightful-looking mixture of milk, blood, and
corrupt matter. The old woman got it into the churn,
and made preparations for churning.
"Now," she said, "you both must churn, make fast
the door and windows, and let there be no light but
from the fire; do not open your lips until I desire you,
and by observing my directions, I make no doubt but,
ere the sun goes down, we will find out the infernal
villain who is robbing you."
Bryan secured the doors and windows, and commenced
churning. The old sorceress sat down by a blazing fire
which had been specially lighted for the occasion, and
commenced singing the same wild song which she had
sung ai the pulling of the cow hairs, and after a little
time she cast one of the nine hairs into the fire, still
singing her mysterious strain, and watching, with in
tense interest, the witching process.
A loud cry, as if from a female in distress, was now
heard approaching the house ; the old witch discontinued
her incantations, and listened attentively. The crying
voice approached the door.
"Open the door quickly," shouted the charmer.
Bryan unbarred the door, and all three rushed out
in the yard, when they heard the same cry down the
boreheen, but could see nothing.
"It is all over," shouted the old witch; "something
has gone amiss, and our charm for the present is
ineffectual."
They now turned back quite crestfallen, when, as
they were entering the door, the sybil cast her eyes
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 171
downward, and perceiving a piece of horseshoe nailed
on the threshold,* she vociferated:
"Here I have it; no wonder our charm was abortive.
The person that was crying abroad is the villain who
has your cattle bewitched; I brought her to the house,
but she was not able to come to the door on account of
that horseshoe. Remove it instantly, and we will try
our luck again."
Bryan removed the horseshoe from the doorway, and
by the hag s directions placed it on the floor under the
churn, having previously reddened it in the fire.
They again resumed their manual operations. Bryan
and his wife began to churn, and the witch again to
sing her strange verses, and casting her cow-hairs into
the fire until she had them all nearly exhausted. Her
countenance now began to exhibit evident traces of
vexation and disappointment. She got quite pale, her
teeth gnashed, her hand trembled, and as she cast the
ninth and last hair into the fire, her person exhibited
more the appearance of a female demon than of a human
being.
Once more the cry was heard, and an aged red-haired
woman t was seen approaching the house quickly.
"Ho, ho \" roared the sorceress, "I knew it would be
so; my charm has succeeded; my expectations are real
ized, and here she conies, the villain who has destroyed
you."
"What are we to do now?" asked Bryan.
"Say nothing to her," said the hag; "give her what
ever she demands, and leave the rest to me."
* It was once a common practice in Ireland to nail a piece
of horseshoe on the threshold of the door, as a preservative
against the influence of the fairies, who, it is thought, dare
not enter any house thus guarded. This custom, however,
is much on the wane, but still it is prevalent in some of the
more uncivilized districts of the country.
t Red-haired people are thought to possess magic power.
172 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The woman advanced screeching vehemently, and
Bryan went out to meet her. She was a neighbor, and
she said that one of her b^st cows was drowning in a
pool of water that there was no one at home but her
self, and she implored Bryan to go rescue the cow from
destruction.
Bryan accompanied her without hesitation ; and hav
ing rescued the cow from her perilous situation, was
back again in a quarter of an hour.
It was now sunset, and Mrs. Costigan set about pre
paring supper.
During supper they reverted to the singular trans
actions of the day. The old witch uttered many a fiend
ish laugh at the success of her incantations, and in
quired who was the woman whom they had so curiously
discovered.
Bryan satisfied her in every particular. She was the
wife of a neighboring farmer; her name was Rachel
Higgins; and she had been long suspected to be on
familiar terms with the spirit of darkness. She had
five or six cows; but it was observed by her sapient
neighbors that she sold more butter every year than
other farmers 5 wives who had twenty. Bryan had, from
the commencement of the decline in his cattle, suspected
her for being the aggressor, but as he had no proof, he
held his peace.
"Well/ 5 said the old beldame, with a grim smile, "it
is not enough that we have merely discovered the rob
ber; all is in vain, if we do not take steps to punish
her for the past, as well as to prevent her inroads for
the future/ 5
"And how will that be done ?" said Bryan.
"I will tell you ; as soon as the hour of twelve o clock
arrives to-night, do you go to the pasture, and take a
couple of swift-running dogs with you ; conceal yourself
in some place convenient to the cattle ; watch them care
fully ; and- if you see anything, whether man or beast,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 173
approach the cows, set on the dogs, and if possible make
them draw the blood of the intruder; then ALL will be
accomplished. If nothing approaches before sunrise,
you may return, and we will try something else."
Convenient there lived the cowherd of a neighboring
squire. He was a hardy, courageous young man, and
always kept a pair of very ferocious bulldogs. To him
Bryan applied for assistance, and he cheerfully agreed
to accompany him, and, moreover, proposed to fetch a
couple of his master s best grayhounds, as his own dogs,
although extremely fierce and bloodthirsty, could not be
relied on for swiftness. He promised Bryan to be with
him before twelve o clock, and they parted.
Bryan did not seek sleep that night; he sat up anx
iously awaiting the midnight hour. It arrived at last,
and his friend, the herdsman, true to his promise, came
at the time appointed. After some further admonitions
from the Collougli, they departed. Having arrived at
the field, they consulted as to the best position they
could choose for concealment. At last they pitched on
a small brake of fern, situated at the extremity of the
field, adjacent to the boundary ditch, which was thickly
studded with large, old white-thorn bushes. Here they
crouched themselves, and made the dogs, four in num
ber, lie down beside them, eagerly expecting the appear
ance of their as yet unknown and mysterious visitor.
Here Bryan and his comrade continued a considerable
time in nervous anxiety, still nothing approached,
and it became manifest that morning was at hand ; they
were beginning to grow impatient, and were talking of
returning home, when on a sudden they heard a rushing
sound behind them, as if proceeding from something en
deavoring to force a passage through the thick hedge in
their rear. They looked in that direction, and judge
of their astonishment, when they perceived a large hare
in the act of springing from the ditch, and leaping on
the ground quite near them. They were now convinced
174 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
that this was the object which they had so impatiently
expected, and they were resolved to watch her motions
narrowly.
After arriving to the ground, she remained motionless
for a few moments, looking around her sharply. She
then began to skip and jump in a playful manner; now
advancing at a smart pace toward the cows, and again
retreating precipitately, but still drawing nearer and
nearer at each sally. At length she advanced up to the
next cow, and sucked her for a moment; then on to the
next, and so respectively to every cow on the field the
cows all the time lowing loudly, and appearing ex
tremely frightened and agitated. Bryan, from the mo
ment the hare commenced sucking the- first, was with
difficulty restrained from attacking her; but his more
sagacious* companion suggested to him, that it was bet
ter to wait until she would have done, as she would then
be much heavier, and more unable to- effect her escape
than at present. And so the issue- proved ; for being
now done sucking them all, her belly appeared enor
mously distended, and she made her exit slowly and
apparently with difficulty. She advanced to.ward the
hedge where she had entered, and as she arrived just at
the clump of ferns where her foes were couched, they
started up with a fierce yell, and hallooed the dogs upon
her path.
The hare started off at a brisk pace, squirting up the
milk she had sucked from her mouth and nostrils, and
the dogs making after her rapidly. Eachel Higgins s
cabin appeared, through the gray of the morning twi
light, at a little distance ; and it was evident that puss
seemed bent on gaining it, although she made a con
siderable circuit through the fields in the rear. Bryan
and his comrade, however, had their thoughts, and made
toward the cabin by the shortest route, and ^ad just ar
rived as the hare came up-, panting and almost ex
hausted, and the dogs at her very scut. She ran round
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 175
the house, evidently confused and disappointed at the
presence of the men, but at length made for the door.
In the bottom of the door was a small, semi-cirjcular
aperture, resembling those cut in fowl-house doors for
the ingress and egress of poultry. To gain this hole,
puss now made a last and desperate effort, and had suc
ceeded in forcing her head and shoulders through it,
when the 1 foremost of the dogs made a spring and seized
her violently by the haunch. She uttered a loud and
piercing scream, and struggled desperately to free her
self from his grip, and at last succeeded, but not until
she left a piece of her rump in his teeth. The men
new burst open the door; a bright turf fire blazed on
the hearth, and the whole floor was streaming with
blood. No hare, however, could be found, and the men
were more than ever convinced that it was old Rachel,
who had, by the assistance of some demon, assumed the
form of the hare, and they now determined to have her
if she were over the earth. They entered the bedroom,
and heard some- smothere,d groaning, as if proceeding
from some one in extreme agony. They went to the cor
ner of the room from whence the moans proceeded, am i
there, beneath a bundle of freshly-cut rushes, found thu
form of Ea^hel Higgins, writhing in the most excruciat
ing agony, and almost smothered in a pool of blood
The men were astounded; they addressed the wretched
old woman, but she either could not, or would not an
swer them. Her wound still bled copiously; her tor-
tures appeared to increase, and it was evident that shu
was dying. The aroused family thronged around her
with cries and lamentations; she did not seem to heed,
them, she got worse and worse, and her piercing yelly
fell awfully on the ears of the bystanders. At length
she expired, and her corpse exhibited a most appalling
spectacle, even before the spirit had well departed.
Bryan and his friend returned home. The old hag
had been previously aware of the fate of Eachel Hig-
176 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
gins, but it was not known by what means she acquired
her supernatural knowledge. She was delighted at the
issue of her mysterious operations. Bryan pressed her
much to accept of some remuneration for her services,
but she utterly rejected such proposals. She remained
a few days at his house, and at length took her leave
and departed, no one knew whither.
Old KachePs remains were interred that night in the
neighboring churchyard. Her fate soon became gener
ally known, and her family, ashamed to remain in their
native village, disposed of their property, and quitted
the country for ever. The story, however, is still fresh
in the memory of the surrounding villagers ; and often,
it is said, amid the gray haze of a summer twilight, may
the ghost of Eachel Higgins, in the form of a hare, be
seen scudding over her favorite and well-remembered
haunts.
THE HOKNED WOMEN*
LADY WILDE
A RICH woman sat up late one night carding and pre
paring wool, while all the family and servants were
asleep. Suddenly a knock was given at the door, and
a voice called "Open ! open \"
"Who is there?" said the woman of the house.
"I am the Witch of the one Horn," was answered.
The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbors had
called and required her assistance, opened the door, and
a woman entered, having in her hand a pair of wool
carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if grow
ing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and be
gan to card the wool with violent haste. Suddenly she
Ancient Legends of Ireland.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 177
paused, and said aloud: "Where are the women? they
delay too long."
Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice
called as before, "Open ! open !"
The mistress felt herself constrained to rise and open
to the call, and immediately a second witch entered,
having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a
wheel for spinning wool.
"Give me place," she said, "I am the Witch of the
two Horns," and she began to spin as quick as lightning.
Arid so the knocks went on, and the call was heard,
and the witches entered, until at last twelve women sat
round the fire the first with one horn, the last with
twelve horns.
And they carded the thread, and turned their spin
ning wheels, and wound and wove.
All singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word
did they speak to the mistress of the house. Strange to
hear, and frightful to look upon, were these twelve
women, with their horns and their wheels; and the mis
tress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she
might call for help, but she could not move, nor could
she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches
was upon her.
Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said :
"Eise, woman, and make us a cake." Then the mis
tress searched for a vessel to bring water from the well
that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but
she could find none.
And they said to her, "Take a sieve and bring water
in it."
And she took the sieve and went to the well; but the
water poured from it, and she could fetch none for the
cake, and she sat down by the well and wept.
Then a voice came by her and said, "Take yellow clay
and moss, and bind them together, and plaster the sieve
so that it will hold."
178 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
This she did, and the sieve held the water for the
cake ; and the voice said again :
"Keturn, and when thou comest to the north angle
of the house, cry aloud three times and say, The moun
tain of the Fenian women and the sky over it is all on
fire/
And she did so.
When the witches inside heard the call, a great and
terrible cry broke from their lips, and they rushed forth
with wild lamentations and shrieks, and fled away to
Slievenamon,* where was their chief abode. But the
Spirit of the Well bade the mistress of the house to
enter and prepare her home against the enchantments
of the witches if they returned again.
And first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the
water in which she had washed her child s feet (the feet-
water) outside the door on the threshold; secondly, she
took the cake which the witches had made in her ab
sence of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the
sleeping family, and she broke the cake into bits, and
placed a bit in the mouth of each sleeper, and they were
restored; and she took the cloth they had woven and
placed it half in and half out of the chest with the pad
lock; and lastly she secured the door with a great cross
beam fastened in the jambs, so that they could not enter,
and having done these things she waited.
"Open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried
to the door.
"I cannot," said the door, "for the beam is fixed in
the jambs and I have no power to move."
"Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled
with blood !" they cried again.
"I cannot," said the cake, "for I am broken and
bruised, and my blood is on the lips of the sleeping
children."
* Slidbh-na-mlanr-i.e., mountains of the women.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 17S
Then the witches rushed through the air with great
cries, and fled back to Slievenamon, uttering strange
curses on the Spirit of the Well, who had wished their
ruin; but the woman and the house were left in peace,
and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her
flight was kept hung up by the mistress as a sign of
the night s awful contest; and this mantle was in pos
session of the same family from generation to genera
tion for five hundred years after.
THE WITCHES EXCURSION*
PATEICK KENNEDY
SHEMUS EUA f (Red James) was awakened from his
sleep one night by noises in his kitchen. Stealing to the
door, he saw half-a-dozen old women sitting round the
fire, jesting and laughing, his old housekeeper, Madge,
quite frisky and gay, helping her sister crones to cheer
ing glasses of punch. He began to admire the impudence
and imprudence of Madge, displayed in the invitation
and the riot, but recollected on the instant her officious-
ness in urging him to take a comfortable posset, which
she had brought to his bedside just before he fell asleep.
Had he drunk it, he would have been just now deaf
to the witches glee. He heard and saw them drink his
health in such a mocking style as nearly to temnt him
to charge them, besom in hand, but he restrained him
self.
The jug being emptied, one of them cried out, "Is it
* Fictions of the Irish Celts.
t Irish, 86umu8 Ruadh. The Celtic vocal organs are un^
able to pronounce the letter j, hence they make Shon or
Shawn of John, or Shamus of James, etc.
180 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
time to be gone ?" and at the same moment, putting on
a red cap, she added :
"By yarrow and rue,
And my red cap too,
Hie over to England."
Making use of a twig which she held in her hand as a
steed, she gracefully soared up the chimney, and was
rapidly followed by the rest. But when it came to the
housekeeper, Shemus interposed. "By your leave,
ma am," said he, snatching the twig and cap. "Ah, you
desatef ul ould crocodile ! If I find you here on my re
turn, there ll be wigs on the green :
" By yarrow and rue,
And my red cap too,
Hie over to England. "
The words were not out of his mouth when he was soar
ing above the ridge pole, and swiftly ploughing the air.
He was careful to speak no word (being somewhat con
versant with witch lore), as the result would be a
tumble, and the immediate return of the expedition.
In a very short time they had crossed the Wicklow
hills, the Irish Sea, and the Welsh mountains, and were
charging, at whirlwind speed, the hall door of a castle.
Shemus, only for the company in which he found him
self, would have cried out for pardon, expecting to be
mummy against the hard oak door in a moment; but,
all bewildered, he found himself passing through the
keyhole, along a passage, down a flight of steps, and
through a cellar-door keyhole before he could form any
clear idea of his situation.
Waking to the full consciousness of his position, he
found himself sitting on a stillion, plenty of lights
glimmering round, and he and his companions, with full
tumblers of frothing wine in hand, hobnobbing and
drinking healths as jovially and recklessly as if the
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 181
liquor was honestly come by, and they were sitting in
Shemus s own kitchen. The red birredh* had assimi
lated SJiemus s. nature for the time being to that of his
unholy companions. The heady liquors soon got into
their brains, and a period of unconsciousness succeeded
the ecstasy, the headache, the turning round of the bar
rels, and the "scattered sight" of poor Shemus. He
woke up under the impression of being roughly seized,
and shaken, and dragged upstairs, and subjected to a
disagreeable examination by the lord of the castle, in
his state parlor. There was much derision among the
whole company, gentle and simple, on hearing Shemus s
explanation, and, as the thing occurred in the dark
ages, the unlucky Leinster man was sentenced to be
hung as soon as the gallows could be prepared for the
occasion.
The poor Hibernian was in the cart proceeding on his
last journey, with a label on his back, and another on
his breast, announcing him as the remorseless villain
who for the last month had been draining the casks in
my lord s vault every night. He was surprised to hear
himself addressed by his name, and in his native tongue,
by an old woman in the crowd. "Ach, Shemus, alanna !
is it going to die you are in a strange place without your
cappeen d yarrag ?" t These words infused hope and
courage into the poor victim s heart. He turned to the
lord and humbly asked leave to die in his red cap, which
he supposed had dropped from his head in the vault.
A servant was sent for the head-niece, and Shemus felt
lively hope warming his heart while placing it on his
head. On the platform he was graciously allowed to
address the spectators, which he proceeded to do in the
usual formula composed for the benefit of flying sta
tioners : "Good people all, a warning take by me ;" but
* Ir., Birreud i.e., a cap.
f Irish, caipin dearg i.e., red cap.
182 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
when he had finished the line, "My parents reared me
tenderly," he unexpectedly added : "By yarrow and rue,"
etc., and the disappointed spectators saw him shoot up
obliquely through the air in the style of a skyrocket that
had missed its aim. It is said that the lord took the
circumstance much to heart, and never afterward hung
a man for twenty-four hours after his offence.
THE CONFESSIONS OF TOM BOUKKB
T. CROFTONT CEOKER
TOM BOTJRKE lives in a low, long farmhouse, resem
bling in outward appearance a large barn, placed at the
bottom of the hill, just where the new road strikes off
from the old one, leading from the town of Kilworth
to that of Lismore. He is of a class of persons who are
a sort of black swans in Ireland ; he is a wealthy farmer.
Tom s father had, in the good old times, when a hundred
pounds were no inconsiderable treasure, either to lend
or spend, accommodated his landlord with that sum, at
interest ; and obtained as a return for his civility a long
lease, about half-a-dozen times more valuable than the
loan which procured it. The old man died worth sev
eral hundred pounds, the greater part of which, with
his farm, he bequeathed to his son Tom. But besides
all this, Tom received from his father, upon his death
bed, another gift, far more valuable than worldly riches,
greatly as he prized and is still known to prize them.
He was invested with the privilege, enjoyed by few of
the sons of men, of communicating with those myste
rious beings called "the good people."
Tom Bourke is a little, stout, healthy, active man,
about fifty-five years. of age. His hair is perfectly white,
short and bushy behind, but rising in front erect and
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 183
thick above his forehead, like a new clothes brush. Hia
eyes are of that kind which I have often observed with
persons of a quick, but limited intellect they are small,
gray, and lively. The large and projecting eyebrows
under, or rather within, which they twinkle, give them
an expression of shrewdness and intelligence, if not of
cunning. And this is very much the character of the
man. If you want to make a bargain with Tom Bourke
you must act as if you were a general besieging a town,
and make your advances a long time before you can
hope to obtain possession; if you march up boldly, and
tell him at once your object, you are for the most part
sure to have the gates closed in your teeth. Tom does
not wish to part with what you wish to obtain; or an
other person has been speaking to him for the whole
of the last week. Or, it may be, your proposal seems
to meet the most favorable reception. "Very well, sir" ;
"That s true, sir"; "I m very thankful to your honor,"
and other expressions of kindness and confidence greet
you in reply to every sentence ; and you part from him
wondering how he can have obtained the character which
he universally bears, of being a man whom no one can
make anything of in a bargain. But when you next
meet him the flattering illusion is dissolved : you find
you are a great deal further from your object than you
were when you thought you had almost succeeded; his
eye and his tongue express a total forgetfulness of what
the mind within never lost sight of for an instant; and
you have to begin operations afresh, with the disadvan
tage of having put your adversary completely upon his
guard.
Yet, although Tom Bourke is, whether from super
natural revealings, or (as many will think more prob
able) from the tell-truth experience, so distrustful of
mankind, and so close in his dealings with them, he is
no misanthrope. No man loves better the pleasures of
the genial board. The love of money, indeed, which is
184 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
With him (and who will blame him?) a very ruling
propensity, and the gratification which it has received
i rom habits of industry, sustained throughout a pretty
long and successful life, have taught him the value of
sobriety, during those seasons, at least, when a man s
business requires him to keep possession of his senses.
He has, therefore, a general rule, never to get drunk
but on Sunday. But in order that it should be a gen
eral one to all intents and purposes, he takes a method
which, according to better logicians than he is, always
proves the rules. He has many exceptions ; among these,
of course, are the evenings of all the fair and market
days that happen in his neighborhood; so also all the
days in which funerals, marriages, and christenings take
place among his friends within many miles of him. As
to this last class of exceptions, it may appear at first
very singular, that he is much more punctual in his at
tendance at the funerals than at the baptisms or wed
dings of his friends. This may be construed as an in
stance of disinterested affection for departed worth, very
uncommon in this selfish world. But I am afraid that
the motives which lead Tom Bourke to pay more court
to the dead than the living are precisely those which
lead to the opposite conduct in the generality of man
kind a hope of a future benefit and a fear of future
evil. For the good people, who are a race as powerful
as they are capricious, have their favorites among those
who inhabit this world; often show their affection by
easing the objects of it from the load of this burden
some life; and frequently reward or punish the living
according to the degree of reverence paid to the obse
quies and the memory of the elected dead.
Some may attribute to the same cause the apparently
humane and charitable actions which Tom, and indeed
the other members of his family, are known frequently
to perform. A beggar has seldom left their farmyard
with an empty wallet, or without obtaining a night s
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 185
lodging, if required, with a sufficiency of potatoes and
milk to satisfy even an Irish beggar s appetite; in ap
peasing which, account must usually be taken of the
auxiliary jaws of a hungry dog, and of two or three
still more hungry children, who line themselves well
within, to atone for their nakedness without. If one
of the neighboring poor be seized with a fever, Tom
will often supply the sick wretch with some untenanted
hut upon one of his two large farms (for he has added
one to his patrimony), or will send his laborers to con
struct a shed at a hedgeside, and supply straw for a
bed while the disorder continues. His wife, remarkable
for the largeness of her dairy, and the goodness of every
thing it contains, will furnish milk for whey; and their
good offices are frequently extended to the family of
the patient, who are, perhaps, reduced to the extremity
of wretchedness, by even the temporary suspension of a
father s or a husband s labor.
If much of this arises from the hopes and fears to
which I above alluded, I believe much of it flows from
a mingled sense of compassion and of duty, w r hich is
sometimes seen to break from an Irish peasant s heart,
even where it happens to be enveloped in a habitual
covering of avarice and fraud; and which I once heard
speak in terms not to be* misunderstood : tfr VVhen we get
a deal, tis only fair we should give back a little of it."
It is not easy to prevail on Tom to speak of those
good people, with whom he is said to hold frequent and
intimate communications. To the faithful, who believe
in their power, and their occasional delegation of it to
him, he seldom refuses, if properly asked, to exercise
his high prerogative when any unfortunate being is
struck in his neighborhood. Still he will not be won
unsued; he is at first difficult of persuasion, and must
be overcome by a little gentle violence. On these occa
sions he is unusually solemn and mysterious, and if one
word of reward be mentioned he at once abandons the
186 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
unhappy patient, such a proposition being a direct in
sult to his supernatural superiors. It is true that, as
the laborer is worthy of his hire, most persons gifted
as he is do not scruple to receive a token of gratitude
from the patients or their friends after their recovery.
It is recorded that a very handsome gratuity was once
given to a female practitioner in this occult science, who
deserves to be mentioned, not only because she was a
neighbor and a rival of Tom s, but from the singularity
of a mother deriving her name from her son. Her son s
name was Owen, and she was always called Owen sa
vauher (Owen s mother). This person was, on the occa
sion to which I have alluded, persuaded to give her
assistance to a young girl who had lost the use of her
right leg ; Owen sa vdulier found the cure a difficult one.
A journey of about eighteen miles was essential for the
purpose, probably to visit one of the good people who re
sided at that distance; and this journey could only be
performed by Owen sa vauher traveling upon the back
of a white hen. The visit, however, was accomplished ;
and at a particular hour, according to the prediction of
this extraordinary woman, when the hen and her rider
were to reach their journey s end, the patient was seized
with an irresistible desire to dance, which she gratified
with the most perfect freedom of the diseased, leg, much
to the joy of her anxious family. The gratuity in this
case was, as it surely ought to have been, unusually
large, from the difficulty of procuring a hen willing to
go so long a journey with such a rider.
To do Tom Bourke justice, he is on these occasions,
as I have heard from many competent authorities, per
fectly disinterested. Not many months since he recov
ered a young woman (the sister of a tradesman living
near him), who had been struck speechless after return
ing from a funeral, and had continued so for several
days. He steadfastly refused receiving any compensa
tion, saying that even if he had not as much as would
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 187
buy him his supper, he could take nothing in this case,
because the girl had offended at the funeral of one of
the good people belonging to his own family, and though
he would do her a kindness he could take none from her.
About the time this last remarkable affair took
place, my friend, Mr. Martin, who is a neighbor of
Tom s, had some business to transact with him, which
it was exceedingly difficult to bring to a conclusion. At
last Mr. Martin, having tried all quiet means, had re
course to a legal process, which brought Tom to reason,
and the matter was arranged to their mutual satisfac
tion, and with perfect good humor between the parties.
The accommodation took place after dinner at Mr. Mar
tin s house, and he invited Tom to walk into the parlor
and take a glass of punch, made of some excellent
poteen, which was on the table : he had long wished to
draw out his highly-endowed neighbor on the subject
of his supernatural powers, and as Mrs. Martin, who was
in the room, was rather a favorite of Tom s, this seemed
a good opportunity.
"Well, Tom/ said Mr. Martin, "that was a curious:
business of Molly Dwyer s, who recovered her speech so
suddenly the other day."
"You may say that, sir," replied Tom Bourke; "but
I had to travel far for it: no matter for that now.
Your health, ma am," said he, turning to Mrs. Martin.
"Thank you, Tom. But I am told you had some
trouble once in that way in your own family," said Mrs.
Martin,
"So I had, ma am ; trouble enough ; but you were only
a child at that time."
"Come, Tom," said the hospitable Mr. Martin, inter
rupting him, "take another tumbler;" and he then
added, "I wish you would tell us something of the man
ner in which so many of your children died. I am told
they dropped off, one after another, by the same disor
der, and that your eldest son was cured in a most ex-
188 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
traordinary way, when the physician had given him
over."
" Tis true for you, sir," returned Tom ; "your father,
the doctor (God be good to him, I won t belie him in
his grave), told me, when my fourth boy was a week
sick, that himself and Dr. Barry did all that man could
do for him; but they could not -keep him from going
after the rest. No more they could, if the people that
took away the rest wished to take him too. But they
left him; and sorry to the heart I am I did not know
before why they were taking my boys from me ; if I did,
I would not be left trusting to two of em now."
"And how did you find it out, Tom?" inquired Mr.
Martin.
"Why, then, I ll tell you, sir," said Bourke. "When
your father said what I told you, I did not know very
well what to do. I walked down the little bohereen *
you know, sir, that goes to the river-side near Dick
Heafy s ground; for twas a lonesome place, and I
wanted to think of myself. I was heavy, sir, and my
heart got weak in me, when I thought I was to lose my
little boy; and I did not well know how to face his
mother with the news, for she doated down upon him.
Besides, she never got the better of all she cried at his
brother s berrin t the week before. As I was going
down the bohereen I met an old locough, that used to
come about the place once or twice a-year, and used
always to sleep in our barn while he staid in the neigh
borhood. So he asked me how I was. Bad enough,
Shamous, t says I. Tm sorry for your trouble/ says
he; but you re a foolish man, Mr. Bourke. Your son
Would be well enough if you would only do what you
<ought with him. What more can I do with him,
-Shamous? says I; the doctors give him over. 3 The
* Bohereen, or loglieen, i.e., a green lane.
t Berrin, burying. $Shamous, James.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 189
doctors know no more what ails him than they do what
ails a cow when she stops her milk/ says Shamous ; but
go to such a one/ telling me his name, c and try what
he ll say to you/ "
"And who was that, Tom ?" asked Mr. Martin.
"I could not tell you that, sir," said Bourke, with a
mysterious look; "howsomever, you often saw him, and
he does not live far from this. But I had a trial of
him before; and if I went to him at first, maybe I d
have now some of them that s gone, and so Shamous
often told me-. Well, sir, I went to this man, and he
came with me to the house. By course, I did every
thing as he bid me. According to his order, I took
the little boy out of the dwelling-house immediately, sick
as he was, and made a bed for him and myself in the
cow-house. Well, sir, I lay down by his side in the bed,
between two of the cows, and he fell asleep. He got
into a perspiration, saving your presence, as if he was
drawn through the river, and breathed hard, with a great
impression on his chest, and was very bad very bad
entirely through the night. I thought about twelve
o clock he was going at last, and I was just getting up
to go call the man I told you of; but there was no oc
casion. My friends were- getting the better of them
that wanted to take him away from me. There was no
body in the cow-house but the child and myself. Them
was only one halfpenny candle* lighting it, and that was
stuck in the wall at the far end of the house. I had.
just enough of light where we were lying to see a- person
walking or standing near us: and there was no more
noise than if it was a churchyard, except the cows chew
ing the fodder in the stalls.
"Just as I was thinking of getting up, as I told you I
won t belie my father, sir, he was a good father to me
I saw him standing at the bedside, holding out his right
hand to me, and leaning his other on the stick he used
to carry when he was alive, and looking pleasant and
190 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
smiling at me, all as if he was telling me not to be
afeard, for I would not lose the child. Is that you,
father? says I. He said nothing. If that s you/ says
I again, for the love of them that s gone, let me catch
your hand. And so he did, sir; and his hand was as
soft as a child s. He stayed about as long as you d be
going from this to the gate below at the end of the ave
nue, and then went away. In less than a week the child
was as well as if nothing ever ailed him ; and there isn t
to-night a healthier boy of nineteen, from this blessed
house to the town of Ballyporeen, across the Kilworth
mountains."
"But I think, Tom," said Mr. Martin, "it appears as
if you are more indebted to your father than to the man
recommended to you by Shamous ; or do you suppose it
was he who made favor with your enemies among the
good people, and that then your father "
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Bourke, interrupting
him ; "but don t call them my enemies. Twould not be
wishing to me for a good deal to sit by when they are
called so. No offence to you, sir. Here s wishing you a
good health and long life."
"I assure you," returned Mr. Martin, "I meant no of
fence, Tom ; but was it not as I say ?"
"I can t tell you that, sir," said Bourke; "I m bound
down, sir. Howsoever, you may be sure the man I spoke
of and my father, and" those they know, settled it be
tween them."
There was a pause, of which Mrs. Martin took advan
tage to inquire of Tom whether something remarkable
had not happened about a goat and a pair of pigeons, at
the time of his son s illness circumstances often mys
teriously hinted at by Tom.
"See that, now," said he, turning to Mr. Martin, "how
well she remembers it ! True for you, ma am. The goat
I gave the mistress, your mother, when the doctors
ordered her goats whey ?"
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 191
Mrs. Martin nodded assent, and Tom Bourke con
tinued, "Why, then, I ll tell you how that was. The
goat was as well as e er goat ever was, for a month after
she was sent to Killaan, to your father s. The morning
after the night I just told you of, before the child
woke, his mother was standing at the gap leading out of
the barnyard into the road, and she saw two pigeons
flying from the town of Kilworth off the- church down
toward her. Well, they never stopped, you see, till they
came to the house on the hill at the other side of the
river, facing our farm. They pitched upon the chimney
of that house, and after looking about them for a min
ute or two, they flew straight across the river, and
stopped on- the ridge of the cow-house where the child
and I were lying. Do you think they came there for
nothing, sir?"
"Certainly not, Tom," returned Mr. Martin.
"Well, the woman came in to me, frightened, and
told me. She began to cry. Whisht, you fool/ says I ;
tis all for the better/ Twas true for me. What do
you think, ma am; the goat that I gave your mother,
that was seen feeding at sunrise that morning by Jack
Cronin, as merry as a bee, dropped down dead without
anybody knowing why, before Jack s face; and at that
very moment he saw two pigeons fly from the top of the
house out of the town, toward the Lismore road. Twas
at the same time my woman saw them, as I just told
you."
" Twas very strange, indeed, Tom/ said Mr. Martin ;
"I wish you could give us some explanation of it."
"I wish I could, sir," was Tom Bourke s answer ; "but
I m bound down. I can t tell but what I m allowed to
tell, any more than a sentry is let walk more than his
rounds."
"I think you said something of having had some for
mer knowledge of the man that assisted in the cure of
your son," said Mr. Martin.
192 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"So I had, sir/ returned Bourke. "I had a trial of
that man. But that s neither here nor there. I can t
tell you anything about that, sir. But would you like
to know how he got his skill?"
"Oh ! very much, indeed/ said Mr. Martin.
"But you can tell us his Christian name, that we may
know him better through the story," added Mrs. Martin.
Tom Bourke paused for a minute to consider this
proposition.
"Well, I believe that I may tell you that, anyhow ; his
name is Patrick. He was always a smart, cute * boy,
and would be a great clerk if he stuck to it. The first
time I knew him, sir, was at my mother s wake. I was
in great trouble, for I did not know where to bury her.
Her people and my father s people I mean their
friends, sir, among the good people had the greatest
battle that was known for many a year, at Dunmanway-
cross, to see to whose churchyard she d be taken. They
fought for three nights, one after another, without being
able to settle it. The neighbors wondered how long
I was before I buried my mother ; but I had my reasons,
though I could not tell them at that time. Well, sir,
to make my story short, Patrick came on the fourth
morning and told me he settled the business, and that
day we buried her in Kilcrumper churchyard, with my
father s people."
"He was a valuable friend, Tom," said Mrs. Martin,
with difficulty suppressing a smile. "But you were
about to tell how he became so skilful."
"So I will and welcome," replied Bourke. "Your
health, ma am. I m drinking too much of this punch,
sir ; but to tell the truth, I never tasted the like of it ; it
goes down one s throat like sweet oil. But what was I
going to say? Yes well Patrick, many a long year
ago, was coming home from a berrin late in the evening,
* Cute, acute.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 193
and walking by the side of a river, opposite the big
inch,* near Ballyhefaan ford. He had taken a drop,
to be sure; but he was only a little merry, as you may
say, and knew very well what he was doing. The moon
was shining, for it was in the month of August, and
the river was as smooth and as bright as a looking-
glass. He heard nothing lor a long time but the fall
of the water at the mill weir about a mile down the
river, and now and then the crying of the lambs on
the other side of the river. All at once there was a
noise of a great number of people laughing as if they d
break their hearts, and of a piper playing among them.
It came from the inch at the other side of the ford,
and he saw, through the mist that hung over the river,
a whole crowd of people dancing on the inch. Patrick
was as fond of a dance as he was of a glass, and that s
saying enough for him ; so he whipped off his shoes and
stockings, and away with him across the ford. After
putting on his shoes and stockings at the other side of
the river he walked over to the crowd, and mixed with
them for some time without being minded. He thought,
sir, that he d show them better dancing than any of
themselves, for he was proud of his feet, sir, and a good
right he had, for there was not a boy in the same parish
could foot a double or treble with him. But pwah ! his
dancing was no more to theirs than mine would be to the
mistress there. They did not seem as if they had a bone
in their bodies, and they kept it up as if nothing could
tire them. Patrick was shamed within himself, for he
thought he had not his fellow in all the country round ;
and was going away, when a little old man, that was
looking at the company bitterly, as if he did not like
what was going on, came up to him. Patrick, says he.
Patrick started, for he did not think anybody there
knew him. Patrick/ says he, you re discouraged, and
* Inch, low meadow ground near a river.
194 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
no wonder for you. But you have a friend near you.
I m your friend, and your father s friend, and I think
worse* of your little finger than I do of all that are
here, though they think no one is as good as themselves.
Go into the rin g and call for a lilt. Don t be afeard. I
tell you the best of them did not do it as well as you
shall, if you will do as I bid you. Patrick felt some
thing within him as if he ought not to gainsay the old
man. He went into the ring, and called the piper to
play up the best double he had. And sure enough, all
that the others were able for was nothing to him ! He
bounded like an eel, now here and now there, as light
as a feather, although the people could hear the music
answered by his steps, that beat time to every turn of
it, like the left foot of the piper. He first danced a
hornpipe on the ground. Then they got a table, and
he danced a treble on it that drew down shouts from
the whole company. At last he called for a trencher;
and when they saw him, all as if he was spinning on it
like a top, they did not know what to make of him.
Some praised him for the best dancer that ever entered
a ring; others hated him because he was better than
themselves ; although they had ^ood. right to think them
selves better than him or any o^ her man that ever went
the long journey. "
"And what was the cause of his great success?" in*
quired Mr. Martin.
"He could not help it, sir," replied Tom Bourke.
"They that could make him do more than that made
him do it. Howsomever, when he had done, they wanted
him to dance again, but he was tired, and they could
not persuade him. At last he got angry, and swore a
big oath, saving your presence, that he would not dance
a step more ; and the word was hardly out of his mouth
when he found himself all alone, with nothing but a
white cow grazing by his side."
* Worse, more.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 195
"Did he ever discover why he was gifted with these
extraordinary powers in the dance, Tom?" said Mr.
Martin.
"I ll tell you that too, sir/ answered Bourke, "when
I come to it. When he went home, sir, he was taken
with a shivering, and went to bed; and the next day
they found he had got the fever, or something like it,
for he raved like as if he was mad. But they couldn t
make out what it was he was saying, though he talked
constant. The doctors gave him over. But it s little
they knew what ailed him. When he was, as you may
say, about ten days sick, and everybody thought he was
going, one of the neighbors came in to him with a man,
a friend of his, from Ballinlacken, that was keeping with
him some time before. I can t tell you his name either,
only it was Darby. The minute Darby saw Patrick he
took a little bottle, with the juice of herbs in it, out of
his pocket, and gave Patrick a drink of it. He did the
same every day. for three weeks, and then Patrick was
able to walk about, as stout and as hearty as ever he
was in his life. But he was a long time before he came
to himself; and he used to walk the whole day some
times by the ditch-side, talking to himself, like as if
there was someone along with him. And so there was,
surely, or he wouldn t be the man he is to-day."
"I suppose it was from some such companion he
learned his skill," said Mr. Martin.
"You have it all now, sir," replied Bourke. "Darby
told him his friends were satisfied with what he did
the night of the dance ; and though they couldn t hinder
the fever, they d bring him over it, and teach him more
than many knew beside him. And so they did. For
you see, all the people he met on the inch that night were
friends of a different faction; only the old man that
spoke to him, he was a friend of Patrick s family, and
it went again his heart, you see, that the others were
so light and active, and he was bitter in himself to hear
196 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
em boasting how they d dance with any set in the whole
country round. So he gave Patrick the gift thai night,
and afterward gave him the skill that makes him the
wonder of all that know him. And to be sure it was
only learning he was at that time- when he was wander
ing in his mind after the fever/*
"I have heard many strange stories about thai inch
near Ballyhefaan ford," said Mr. Martin. " Tis a great
place for the good people, isn t it, Tom ?"
"You may say that, sir/ returned Bourke. "I could
tell you a great deal about it. Many a time I sat for
as good as two hours by moonlight, at th other side of
the river, looking at em playing goal as if they d break
their hearts over it ; with- their coats and waistcoats off,
and white handkerchiefs on the- heads of one party, and
red ones on th other, just as you d see on a Sunday in
Mr. Simming s big field. I saw em one night play till
the moon set, without one party being a-ble to take the
ball from th other. I m sure they were going to- fight,
only twas near morning. I m told your grandfather,
ma am, used to see em there too," said Bourke, turning
to Mrs. Martin.
"So I have been told, Tom," replied Mrs. Martin.
"But don t they say that the churchyard of Kilcrumper
is just as favorite a place with the good people as Bally
hefaan inch?"
"Why, then, maybe you never heard, ma am, what
happened to Davy Eoche in that same churchyard,"
said Bourke ; and turning to Mr. Martin, added : " Twas
a long time before he went into your service, sir. He
was walking home, of an evening, from the fair of Kil-
cumber, a little merry, to be sure, after the day, and he
came up with a berrin. So he walked along with it,
and thought it very queer that he did not know a
mother s soul in the crowd but one man, and he was
sure that man was dead many years afore. Howsom-
ever, he went on with the berrin till they came to Kil-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 197
crumper churchyard; and, faith, he went in and stayed
with the rest, to see the corpse buried. As soon as the
grave was covered, what should they do but gather about
a- piper that come along with em, and fall to dancing
as if it was a wedding. Davy longed to be among em
(for he hadn t a bad foot of his own, that time, what
ever he may now) ; but he was loth to begin, because
they all seemed strange to him, only the man I told
you that he thought was dead. Well, at last this man
saw what Davy wanted, and came up to him. Davy/
says he, take out a partner, and show what you can do,
but take care a-nd don t offer to kiss her. That I
won t, says Davy, although her lips were made of
honey/ And with that he made his bow to the purtiest
girl in the ring, and he and she began to dance. Twas
a jig they danced, and they did it to th ad
miration, do you see, of all that were there. Twas
all very well till the jig was over; but just as they had
done, Davy, for he had a drop in, and was warm with
the dancing, forgot himself, and kissed his partner,
according to custom. The smack was no sooner off of
his lips, you see, than he was left alone in the church
yard, without a creature near him, a-nd all he could see
was the tall tombstones. Davy said they seemed as if
they were dancing too, but I suppose that was only the
wonder that happened him, and he being a little in
drink. Howsomever, he found it was a great many
hours later than he thought it; twas near morning
when he came home; but they couldn t get a word out
of him till the next day, when he woke out of a dead
sleep about twelve o clock."
When Tom had finished the account of Davy Koche
and the berrin, it became quite evident that spirits, of
some sort, were working too strong within him to admit
of his telling many more tales of the good people. Tom
seemed conscious of this. He muttered for a few min
utes broken sentences concerning churchyards, river-
198 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
sides, leprechauns, and dina magh,* which, were quite
unintelligible, perhaps, to himself, certainly to Mr. Mar
tin and his lady. At length he made a slight motion
of the head upward, as if he would say, "I can talk no
more-;" stretched his arm on the table, upon which
he placed the empty tumbler slowly, and with the most
knowing and cautious air; and rising from his chair,
walked, or rather rolled, to the parlor door. Here he
turned round to face his host and hostess; but after va
rious ineffectual attempts to bid them good-night, the
words, as they rose, being always choked by a vio
lent hiccup, while the door, which he held by the handle,
swung to and fro, carrying his unyielding body along
with it, he was obliged to depart in silence. The cow
boy, sent by Tom s wife, who knew well what sort of
allurement detained him when he remained out after
a certain hour, was in attendance to conduct his master
home. I have no doubt that he returned without meet
ing any materia-1 injury, as I know that within the last
month he was, to use his own words, "as stout and hearty
a man as any of his age in the county Cork."
THE PUDDING BEWITCHED
WILLIAM CAKLETON"
"MOLL EOE EAFFEETY was the son daughter I mane
of ould Jack Rafferty, who was remarkable for a habit
he had of always wearing his head undher his hat; but
indeed the same family was a quare one, as everybody
knew that was acquainted wid them. It was said of
them but whether it was thrue or not I won t undher-
take to say, for f raid I d tell a lie that whenever they
* Daoine maithe, i.e., the good people.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 199
didn t wear shoes or boots they always went barefooted ;
but I heard aftherwards that this was disputed, so
rather than say anything to in.jure their character, I ll
let that pass. Now, ould Jack Rafferty had two sons,
Paddy and Molly hut ! what are you all laughing at?
I mane a son and daughter, and it was generally be
lieved among the neighbors that they were brother
and sisther, which you know might be thrue or it might
not : but that s a thing that, wid the- help- o ? goodness,
we have nothing to say to. Troth there was many ugly
things put out on them that I don t wish to repate, such
as that neither Jack nor his son Paddy ever walked a
perch widout puttin one foot afore the other like a sal
mon; an I know it was whispered about, that
whinever Moll Eoe slep , she had an out-of-the-way cus
tom of keepin her eyes shut. If she did, however, for
that matther the loss was her own ; for sure we all know
that when one comes to shut their eyes they can t see
as far before them as another.
"Moll Roe was a fine young bouncin girl, large and
lavish, wid a purty head o hair on her like scarlet, that
bein one of the raisons why she was called Roe, or red ;
her arms an cheeks were much the color of the hair,
an her saddle nose was the purtiest thing of its kind
that ever was on a face. Her fists for, thank goodness,
she was well sarve.d wid them, too had a strong simu-
larity to two thumpin turnips, reddened by the sun;
an to keep all right and tight, she had a temper as
fiery as her head for, indeed, it was well known that-
all the Rafferties were warm-hearted. Howandiver, it
appears that God gives nothing in vain, and of coorse
the same fists, big and red as they were, if all that is
said about them is thrue, were not so much given to
her for ornament as use. At laist, takin them in con
nection wid her lively temper, we have it upon good
authority, that there was no danger of their getting blue-
moulded for want of practice. She had a twist, to<v
200 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
in one of her eyes that was very becomin in its way,
and made her poor husband, when she got him, take it
into his head that she could see round a corner. She
found him out in many quare things, widout doubt ; but
whether it was owin to that or not, I wouldn t under
take to say for fraid I d tell a lie.
"Well, begad, anyhow, it was Moll Eoe that was the
dilsy* It happened that there was a nate vagabone in
the neighborhood, just as much overburdened wid
beauty as herself, and he was named Gusty Gillespie.
Gusty, the Lord guard us, was what they call a black-
mouth Prosbytarian, and wouldn t keep Christmas-day,
the blagard, except what they call tf ould style/ Gusty
was rather good-lookin when seen in the dark, as well
as Moll herself; and, indeed, it was purty well known
that accordin as the talk went it was in nightly
meetings that they had an opportunity of becomin 7 de
tached to one another. The quensequence was, that in
due time both families began to talk very seriously as
to what was to be done. Moll s brother, Pawdien O Kaf-
ferty, gave Gusty the best of two choices. What they
were it s not worth spakin about; but at any rate one
of them was a poser, an as Gusty knew his man, he
soon came to his senses. Accordianly everything was
deranged for their marriage, and it was appointed that
they should be spliced by the Rev. Samuel M Shuttle,
who was the Prosbytarian parson, on the following
Sunday.
"Now this was the first marriage that had happened
for a long time in the neighborhood betune a black-
mouth an a Catholic, an of coorse there was strong ob
jections on both sides aginst it ; an begad, only for one
thing, it would never a tuck place at all. At any rate,
faix, there was one of the bride s uncles, ould Harry
Connolly, a fairy-man, who could cure all complaints
* Perhaps from Irish dilse i.e., love.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 201
wid a secret he had. and as he didn t wish to see his
niece married upon sich a fellow, he fought bittherly
against the match. All Moll s friends, however, stood
up for the marriage barrin him, an of coorse the Sun
day was appointed, as I said, that they were to be dove
tailed together.
Well, the day arrived, and Moll, as became her, went
to mass, and Gusty to meeting, afther which they were
to join one another in Jack Kafferty s, where the priest,
Father M Sorley, was to slip up afther mass to take his
dinner wid them, and to keep Misther M Shuttle, who
was to marry them, company. Nobody remained at
home but ould Jack Bafferty an his wife, who stopped
to dress the dinner, for, to tell the truth, it was to be
a great let-out entirely. Maybe, if all was known, too,
that Father M Sorley was to give them a cast of his
office over an above the ministher, in regard that Moll s
friends were not altogether satisfied at the kind of mar
riage which M Shuttle could give them. The sorrow
may care about that splice here splice there all I
can say is, that when Mrs. Bafferty was goin to tie up
a big bag pudden, in walks Harry Connolly, the fairy-
man, in a rage, and shouts oui> - Blood and blunder-
bushes, what are yez here for?
" Arrah why, Harry? Why, avick?
" Why, the sun s in the suds and the moon in the
high Horicks; there s a clipstick comin an, an there
you re both as unconsarned as if it was about to rain
mether. Go out and cross yourselves three times in tho
name o the four Mandromarvins, for as prophecy says
Fill the pot, Eddy, supernaculum a blazing star s a
rare spectaculum. Go out both of you and look at the
sun, I say, an ye ll see the condition he s in off !
"Begad, sure enough, Jack gave a bounce to the door,
and his wife leaped like a two-year-ould, till they were
both got on a stile beside the house to see what was
wrong in the sky.
202 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
" Arrah, what is it, Jack/ said she ; can you see any
thing ?
" No/ says he, sorra the full o my eye of anything I
can spy, barrin the sun himself, that s not visible in re
gard of the clouds. God guard us! I doubt there s
something to happen.
" If there wasn t, Jack, what ud put Harry, that
knows so much, in the state he s in?
" I doubt it s this marriage/ said Jack: betune
ourselves, it s not over an above religious for Moll to
marry a black-mouth, an only for ; but it can t be
helped now, though you see not a taste o the sun is will-
in to show his face upon it.
" As to that/ says the wife, winkin wid both her
eyes, if Gusty s satisfied wid Moll, it s enough. I know
who ll carry the whip hand, anyhow; but in the mane-
time let us ax Harry ithin what ails the sun.
"Well, they accordianly went in an put the question
to him:
" Harry, what s wrong, ahagur ? What is it now, for
if anybody alive knows, tis yourself?
" Ah ! said Harry, screwin his mouth wid a kind
of a dhry smile, the sun has a hard twist o the cholic;
but never mind that, I tell you you ll have a merrier
weddin than you think, that s all/ and havin said
this, he put on his hat and left the house.
"Now, Harry s answer relieved them very much, and
so, afther calling to him to be back for the dinner, Jack
sat down to take a shough o the pipe, and the wife
lost no time in tying up the puddeii and puttin it in the
pot to be boiled.
"In this way things went on well enough for a while,
Jack smokin away, an the wife cookin and dhressin
at the rate of a hunt. At last, Jack, while sittin , as I
said, contentedly at the fire, thought he could persave
an odd dancin kind of motion in the pot that puzzled
him a good deal.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 203
" Katty/ said he, what the dickens is in this pot on
the fire ?
" Nerra thing but the big pudden. Why do you ax V
says she.
" Why/ said he, if ever a pot tuck it into its head
to dance a jig, and this did. Thundher and sparbles,
look at it I
"Begad, it was thrue enough ; there was the pot bob
bin up an down and from side to side, jiggin it away
as merry as a grig; an it was quite aisy to see that it
wasn t the pot itself, but what was inside of it, that
brought about the hornpipe.
66 Be the hole o ? my coat/ shouted Jack, there s some
thing alive in it, or it would never cut sich capers !
" Be gorra, there is, Jack ; something sthrange en
tirely has got into it. Wirra, man alive, what s to be
done ?
"Jist as she spoke, the pot seemed to cut the buckle
in prime style, and afther a spring that ud shame a
dancin -masther, off flew the lid, and out bounced the
pudden itself, hoppin , as nimble as a pea on a drum
head, about the floor. Jack blessed himself, and Katty
crossed herself. Jack shouted, and Katty screamed. In
the name of goodness, keep your distance; no one here
injured you !
"The pudden, however, made a set at him, and Jack
lepped first on a chair and then on the kitchen table
to avoid it. It then danced toward Kitty, who was
now repatin her prayers at the top of her voice, while
the cunnin thief of a pudden was hoppin and jiggin
it round her, as if it was amused at her distress.
" If I could get the pitchfork/ said Jack, I d dale
wid it by goxty I d thry its mettle.
" No, no/ shouted Katty, thinkin there was a fairy
in it; let us spake it fair. Who knows what harm it
might do? Aisy now/ said she to the pudden, aisy,
dear ; don t harm honest people that never meant to of-
204 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
fend you. It wasn t us no, in troth, it was ould Harry
Connolly that bewitched you; pursue him if you wish,
but spare a woman like me ; for, whisper, dear, I m not
in a condition to be frightened troth I m not/
"The pudden, bedad, seemed to take her at her word,
and danced away from her toward Jack, who, like the
wife, believin there was a fairy in it, an that spakin
it fair was the best plan, thought he would give it a soft
word as well as her.
" Tlase your honor, said Jack, she only spaiks the
truth; an , upon my voracity, we both feels much
oblaiged to your honor for your quietness. Faith, it s
quite clear that if you weren t a gentlemanly pudden
all out, you d act otherwise. Ould Harry, the rogue, is
your mark; he s jist gone down the road there, and if
you go fast you ll overtake him. Be me song, your danc-
in masther did his duty, anyhow. Thank your honor !
God speed you, an may you never meet wid a parson
or alderman in your thravels !
"Jist as Jack spoke the pudden appeared to take the
hint, for it quietly hopped out, and as the house was
directly on the road-side, turned down toward the
bridge, the very way that ould Harry went. It was
very natural, of coorse, that Jack and Katty should go
out to see how it intended to thravel; and, as the day
was Sunday, it was but natural, too, that a greater
number of people than usual were passin the road. This
was a fact; and when Jack and his wife were seen fol-
lowin the pudden, the whole neighborhood was soon up
and afther it.
" Jack Eafferty, what is it ? Katty ahagur, will you
tell us what it manes ?
" Why/ replied Katty, it s my big pudden that s be
witched, an it s now hot foot pursuin ; here she
stopped, not wishin to mention her brother s name
some one or other that surely put pishrogues an it/*
* Put it under fairy influence.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 205
"This was enough; Jack, now seein 5 that he had as
sistance, found his courage comin back to him; so says
he to Katty, Go home/ says he, an lose no time in
makin another pudden as good, an here s Paddy Scan-
lan s wife, Bridget, says she ll let you boil it on her fire,
as you ll want our own to dress the rest o the dinner:
and Paddy himself will lend me a pitchfork, for pur-
shuin to the morsel of that same pudden will escape till
I let the wind out of it, now that I ve the neighbors to
back an support me, says Jack.
"This was agreed to, and Katty went back to prepare
a fresh pudden, while Jack an half the townland pur
sued the other wid spades, graips, pitchforks, scythes,
flails, and all possible description of instruments. On
the pudden went, however, at the rate of about six Irish
miles an hour, an sich a chase never was seen. Cath
olics, Prodestants, an Prosbytarians, were all afther it.
armed, as I said, an bad end to the thing but its own
activity could save it. Here it made a hop, and there
a prod was made at it; but off it went, an some one,
as eager to get a slice at it on the other side, got the
prod instead of the pudden. Big Frank Farrell, the mil
ler of Ballyboulteen, got a prod backward that brought
a hullabaloo out of him you might hear at the other end
of the parish. One got a slice of a scythe, another a
whack of a flail, a third a rap of a spade that made him
look nine ways at wanst.
" Where is it goin ? asked one. My life for you, it s
on its way to Meeting. Three cheers for it if it turns
to Carntaul. Prod the sowl out of it, if it s a Prodes-
tan , shouted the others ; if it turns to the left, slice it
into pancakes. We ll have no Prodestan puddens here.
"Begad, by this time the people were on the point of
beginnin to have a regular fight about it, when, very
fortunately, it took a short turn down a little bv-lane
that led toward the Methodist praichin-house, an in an
instant all parties were in an uproar against it as a
206 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Methodist pudden. It s a Wesleyan, shouted several
voices; an by this an by that, into a Methodist chapel
it won t put a foot to-day, or we ll lose a fall. Let
the wind out of it. Come, boys, where s your pitch
forks?
"The divle purshuin to the one of them, however,
ever could touch the pudden, an jist when they thought
they had it up against the gavel of the Methodist chapel,
begad it gave them the slip, and hops over to the left,
clane into the river, and sails away before all their eyes
as light as an egg-shell.
"Now, it so happened that a little below this place,
the demesne-wall of Colonel Bragshaw was built up to
the very edge of the river on each side of its banks ; and
so findin there was a stop put to their pursuit of it,
they went home again, every man, woman, and child of
them, puzzled to think what the pudden was at all, what
it meant., or where it was goin ! Had Jack Rafferty
an his wife been willin to let out the opinion they held
about Harry Connolly bewitchin it, there is no doubt of
it but poor Harry might be badly trated by the crowd,
when their blood was up. They had sense enough, how-
andiver, to keep that to themselves, for Harry bein an
ould bachelor, was a kind friend to the Raffertys. So,
of coorse, there was all kinds of talk about it some
guessin this, and some guessin that one party sayin
the pudden was of there side, another party denyin it,
an insistin it belonged to them, an so on.
"In the manetime, Katty Eafferty, for f raid the din
ner might come short, went home and made another
pudden much about the same size as the one that had
escaped, and bringin it over to their next neighbor,
Paddy Scanlan s, it was put into a pot and placed on
the fire to boil, hopin that it might be done in time,
espishilly as they were to have the ministher, who loved
a warm slice of a good pudden as well as e er a gintle-
man in Europe.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 207
"Anyhow, the day passed ; Moll and Gusty were made
man an wife, an no two could be more lovin . Their
friends that had been asked to the weddin were saun-
terin about in pleasant little groups till dinner-time,
chattin an laughin ; but, above all things, sthrivin to
account for the figaries of the pudden; for, to tell the
truth, its adventures had now gone through the whole
parish.
"Well, at any rate, dinner-time was dhrawin near,
and Paddy Scanlan was sittin comfortably wid his wife
at the fire, the pudden boilen before their eyes, when
in walks Harry Connolly, in a flutter, shoutin Blood
an blunderbushes, what are yez here for ?
" Arra, why, Harry why, avick ? said Mrs. Scanlan.
" Why/ said Harry, the sun s in the suds an the
moon in the high Horicks! Here s a clipstick comin
an, an there you sit as unconsarned as if it was about
to rain mether ! Go out both of you, an look at the
sun, I say, and ye ll see the condition he s in off !
" Ay, but, Harry, what s that rowled up in the tail
of your cothamore * (big coat) ?
" Out wid yez, said Harry, an pray aginst the clip-
stick the sky s f allin !
"Begad, it was hard to say whether Paddy or the
wife got out first, they were so much alarmed by Harry s
wild, thin face an piercin eyes ; so out they went to see
what was wondherful in the sky, an kep lookin an
lookin in every direction, but not a thing was to be
seen, barrin the sun shinin down wid great good
humor, an not a single cloud in the sky.
"Paddy an the wife now came in laughin , to scould
Harry, who, no doubt, was a great wag in his way when
he wished. Musha, bad scran to you, Harry / They
had time to say no more, howandiver, for, as they were
* Irish, c6t a mdr.
308 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
.goin into the door, they met him comin out of it wid a
reek of smoke out of his tail like a lime-kiln.
"* Harry, shouted Bridget, my sowl to glory, but the
tail of your cothamore s a-fire you ll be burned. Don t
you see the smoke that s out of it ?
" Cross yourselves three times/ said Harry, widout
.stoppin , or even lookin behind him, for, as the pro
phecy says Fill the pot, Eddy They could hear
no more, for Harry appeared to feel like a man that
carried something a great deal hotter than he wished,
as anyone might see by the liveliness of his motions,
and the quare faces he was forced to make as he went
along.
" What the dickens is he carryin in the skirts of his
big coat ? asked Paddy.
" My sowl to happiness, but maybe he has stole the
pudden, said Bridget, for it s known that many a
.sthrange thing he does/
"They immediately examined the pot, but found that
the pudden was there as safe as tuppence, an this puz
zled them the more, to think what it was he could be
carryin about wid him in the manner he did. But little
they knew what he had done while they were sky-gazin !
"Well, anyhow, the day passed and the dinner was
ready, an no doubt but a fine gatherin there was to
partake of it. The Prosbytarian ministher met the
Methodist praicher a divilish stretcher of an appetit,
he had, in throth on their way to Jack Kafferty s, an
as he knew he could take the liberty, why he insisted
on his dinin wid him; for, afther all, begad, in thim
times the clargy of all descriptions lived upon the best
footin among one another, not all as one as now but
no matther. Well, they had nearly finished their dinner,
when Jack Bafferty himself axed Katty for the pudden ;
but, jist as he spoke, in it came as big as a mess-pot.
" Gintlemen, said he, I hope none of you will refuse
iastin a bit of Katty s pudden ; I don t mane the dancin
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 209
one that tuck to its thravels to-day, but a good solid
fellow that she med since/
" To be sure we won t/ replied the priest ; so, Jack,
put a- thrifle on them three plates at your right hand,
and send them over here to the cla-rgy, an maybe/ he
said, laughin for he was a droll, good-humored man
maybe, Jack, we won t set you a proper example/
" Wid a heart an a half, yer reverence an gintlemen ;
in throth, it s not a bad example ever any of you set us
at the likes, or ever will set us, I ll go bail. An sure I
only wish it was betther fare I had for you; but we re
humble people, gintlemen, and so you can t expect to-
meet here what you would in higher places/
" Betther a male of herbs/ said the Methodist
Eraicher, where pace is / He had time to go no
irther, however ; for much to his amazement, the priest
and the minister started up from the table just as he
was goin to swallow the first spoonful of the pudden,,
and before you could say Jack Robinson, started away at
a lively jig down the floor.
"At this moment a neighbor s son came runnin in,
an tould them that the parson was comin to see the
new-married couple, an wish them all happiness; an
the words were scarcely out of his mouth when he made
his appearance. What to think he knew not, when he
saw the ministher footing it away at the rate of a wed-
din . He had very little time, however, to think; for,
before he could sit down, up starts the Methodist
praicher, and clappin his two fists in his sides chimes
in in great style along wid him.
" Jack Rafferty/ says he and, by the way, Jack was
his tenant what the dickens does all this mane? says;
he ; I m amazed !
" The not a particle o me can tell you/ says Jack;
but will your reverence jist taste a morsel o pudden,
merely that the young couple may boast that you ait;
at their weddin ; for sure if you wouldn t, who would?
210 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
" Well/ says he, to gratify them I will ; so just a
morsel. But, Jack, this bates Bannagher/ says he again,
puttin the spoonful o pudden into his mouth; has
there been dhrink here?
" Oh, the divle a spudhf says Jack, for although
there s plinty in the house, faith, it appears the gintle-
men wouldn t wait for it. Unless they tuck it elsewhere,
I can make nothin of this/
"He had scarcely spoken, when the parson, who was
an active man, cut a caper a yard high, an before you
could bless yourself, the three clargy were hard at work
dancin , as if for a wager. Begad, it would be unpos-
sible for me to tell you the state the whole meetin was
in when they seen this. Some were hoarse wid laughin ;
some turned up their eyes wid wondher; many thought
them mad, an others thought they had turned up their
little fingers a, thrifle too often.
" Be goxty, it s a burnin shame/ said one, to see
three black-mouth clargy in sich a state at this early
hour ! Thundher an ounze, what s over them at all ?
says others; why, one would think they re bewitched.
Holy Moses, look at the caper the Methodis cuts ! An
as for the Rechter, who would think he could handle his
feet at such a rate ! Be this an be that, he cuts the
buckle, and does the threblin step aiquil to Paddy
Horaghan, the dancin -masther himself ! An ? see ! Bad
cess to the morsel of the parson that s not hard at Peace
upon a trencher, an it of a Sunday too ! Whirroo, gin-
tlemen, the fun s in yez af ther all whish ! more power
to yez P
"The sorra s own fun they had, an no wondher; but
judge of what they felt, when all at once they saw
ould Jack Rafferty himself bouncin in among them, and
footing it away like the best o them. Bedah, no play
could come up to it, an nothin could be heard but
laughin , shouts of encouragement, and clappin of
hands like mad. Now the minute Jack Rafferty left the
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 211
chair where he had been carvin the pudden, ould Harry
Connolly comes over and claps himself down in his
place, in ordher to send it round, of coorse ; an he was
scarcely sated, when who should make his appearance
but Barney Hartigan, the piper. Barney, by the way,
had been sent for early in the day, but bein from home
when the message for him went, he couldn t come any
sooner.
" Begorra, said Barney, you re airly at the work,
gintlemen ! but what does this mane ? But, divle may
care, yez shan t want the music while there s a blast in
the pipes, anyhow! So sayin he gave them Jig Pal-
tlw-gue, an after that Kiss my Lady, in his best style.
"In the manetime the fun went on thick an threefold,
for it must be remimbered that Harry, the ould knave,
was at the pudden ; an maybe he didn t sarve it about
in double quick time too. The first he helped was the
bride, and, before you could say chopstick, she was at
it hard an fast before the Methodist praicher, who gave
a jolly spring before her that threw them into convul
sions. Harry liked this, and made up his mind soon to
find partners for the rest; so he accordianly sent the
pudden about like lightnin ; an to make a long story
short, barrin the piper an himself, there wasn t a. pair
o heels in the house but was as busy at the dancin as
if their lives depinded on it.
" Barney, says Harry, just taste a morsel o this
pudden ; divle- the such a bully of a pudden ever you ett ;
here, your sowl ! thry^a snig of it it s beautiful.
" To be sure I will, says Barney. I m not the boy
to refuse a good thing; but, Harry, be quick, for you
know my hands is engaged, an it would be a thousand
pities not to keep them in music, an they so well in
clined. Thank you, Harry; be^ad that is a famous
pudden ; but blood an turnips, what s this for ?
"The word was scarcely out of his mouth when he
bounced up, pipes an all, an dashed into the middle of
212 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TAI^S
the party. Hurroo, your sowls, let us make a night of
it ! The Ballyboulteen boys for ever ! Go it, your rev
erence turn your partner heel an toe, ministher.
Good ! Well done again Whish ! Hurroo ! Here s for
Ballyboulteen, an the sky over it !
"Bad luck to the sich a set ever was seen together in
this world, or will again, I suppose. The worst, how
ever, wasn t come yet, for jist as they were in the
very heat an fury of the dance, what do you think comes
hoppin in among them but another pudden, as nimble
an merry as the first ! That was enough ; they all had
heard of the ministhers among the rest an most o
them had seen the other pudden, and knew that there
must be a fairy in it, sure enough. Well, as I said, in it
comes ta the thick o them ; but the very appearance of
it was enough. Off the three clargy danced, and off
the whole weddiners danced afther them, every one
jnakin the best of their way home; but not a sowl
of them able to break out of the step, if they were
to be hanged for it. Throth it wouldn t lave a laugh
in you to see the parson dancin down the road on his
way home, and the ministher and Methodist praicher
cuttin the buckle as they went along in the opposite
direction. To make short work of it, they all danced
home at last, wid scarce a puff of wind in them; the
bride and bridegroom danced away to bed; an now,
boys, come an let us dance the Horo Lheig in the barn
idout. But you see, boys, before we go, an in- ordher
that I may make everything plain, I had as good tell
jou that Harry, in crossing the bridge of Ballyboulteen,
a couple of miles below Squire Bragshaw s demesne-wall,
;saw the pudden floatin down the river thertruth is he
was waitin for it ; but be this as it may, he took it out,
for the wather had made it as clane as a new pin,
and tuckin it up in the tail of his big coat, contrived,
AS you all guess, I suppose, to change it while Paddy
iScanlan an the wife were examinin the sky ; an for the
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 213
other, he contrived to bewitch it in the same manner, by
gettin a fairy to go into it, for, indeed, it was purty well
known that the same Harry was hand an glove wid the
good people. Others will tell you that it was half a
pound of quicksilver he put into it; but that doesn t
stand to raison. At any rate, boys, I have tould you
the adventures of the Mad Pudden of Ballyboulteen ; but
I don t wish to tell you many other things about it that
happened for fraid I d tell a lie." *
* Some will insist that a fairy-man or fairy-woman has
the power to bewitch a pudding by putting a fairy into it ;
while others maintain that a competent portion of quick
silver will make it dance over half the parish.
T YEER-NA-N-OGE
[THERE is a country called Tir-na-n-Og, which means the
Country of the Young, for age and death have not found it ;
neither tears nor loud laughter have gone near it. The
shadiest boskage covers it perpetually. One man has gone
there and returned. The bard, Oisen, who wandered away
on a white horse, moving on the surface of the foam with
his fairy Niamh, lived there three hundred years, and then
returned looking for his comrades. The moment his foot
touched the earth his three hundred years fell on him, and
he was bowed double, and his beard swept the ground. He
described his sojourn in the Land of Youth to Patrick be
fore he died. Since then many have seen it in many places ;
some in the depths of lakes, and have heard rising there
from a vague sound of bells ; more have seen it far off on the
horizon, as they peered out from the western cliffs. Not
three years ago a fisherman imagined that he saw it. It
never appears unless to announce some national trouble.
There are many kindred beliefs. A Dutch pilot, settled in
Dublin, told M. De La Boullage Le Cong, who travelled in
Ireland in 1614, that round the poles were many islands;
some hard to be approached because of the witches who in
habit them and destroy by storms those who seek to land.
He had once, off the coast of Greenland, in sixty-one de
grees of latitude, seen and approached such an island only
to see it vanish. Sailing in an opposite direction, they met
with the same island, and sailing near, were almost de
stroyed by a furious tempest.
According to many stories, Tir-na-n-Og is the favorite
dwelling of the fairies. Some say it is triple the island of
the living, the island of victories, and an underwater land.]
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 215
THE .LEGEND OF O DONOGHUE *
T. CKOFTON" CROKEK
IN an age so distant that the precise period is un
known, a chieftain named O Donoghue ruled over thq
country which surrounds the romantic Lough Lean,
now called the lake of Killarney. Wisdom, beneficence,
and justice distinguished his reign, and the prosperity
and happiness of his subjects were their natural results.
He is said to have been as renowned for his warlike
exploits as for his pacific virtues; and as a proof that
his domestic administration was not the less rigorous
because it was mild, a rocky island is pointed out to
strangers, called "O Donoghue s Prison," in which this
prince once confined his own son for some act of dis
order and disobedience.
His end for it cannot correctly be called his death
was singular and mysterious. At one of those splendid
feasts for which his court was celebrated, surrounded
by the most distinguished of his subjects, he was en
gaged in a prophetic relation of the events which were to
happen in ages yet to come. His auditors listened, now
wrapt in wonder, now fired with indignation, burning
with shame, or melted into sorrow, as he faithfully de
tailed the heroism, the injuries, the crimes, and the mis-
eries of their descendants. In the midst of his predic
tions he rose slowly from his seat, advanced with a
solemn, measured, and majestic tread to the shore of
the lake, and walked forward composedly upon its un
yielding surface. When he had nearly reached the cen
ter he paused for a moment, then, turning slowly round,
looked toward his friends, and waving his arms to them
with the cheerful air of one taking a short farewell, dis
appeared from their view.
* Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland.
216 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The memory of the good O Donoghue has been cher
ished by successive generations with affectionate rever
ence; arid it is believed that at sunrise, on every May
day morning, the anniversary of his departure, he re
visits his ancient domains: a favored few only are in
general permitted to see him, and this distinction is
always an omen of good fortune to the beholders; when
it is granted to many it is a sure token of an abundant
harvest a blessing, the want of which during this
prince s reign was never felt by his people.
Some years have elapsed since the last appearance of
O Donoghue. The April of that year had been remark
ably wild and stormy; but on May-morning the fury of
the elements had altogether subsided. The air was
hushed and still; and the sky, which was reflected in
the serene lake, resembled a beautiful but deceitful
countenance, whose smiles, after the most tempestuous
motions, tempted the stranger to believe that it belongs
to a soul which no passion has ever ruffled.
The first beams of the rising sun were just gilding
the lofty summit of Glenaa, when the waters near the
eastern shore of the lake became suddenly and violently
agitated, though all the rest of its surface lay smooth
and still as a tomb of polished marble, the next morning
a foaming wave darted forward, and, like a proud, high-
crested war-horse, exulting in his strength, rushed across
the lake toward Toomies mountain. Behind this wave
appeared a stately warrior fully armed, mounted upon
a milk-white steed that sprang after the wave along the
water which bore him up like firm earth. The warrior
was O Donoghue, followed by numberless youths and
maidens linked together by garlands of delicious spring
flowers, and they timed their movements to strains of en
chanting melody. When O Donoghue had nearly reached
the western side of the lake, he suddenly turned his steed,
and directed his course along the wood-fringed shore
of Glenaa, preceded by the huge wave that curled and
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 217
foamed up as high as the horse s neck, whose fiery nos
trils snorted above it. The long train of attendants
followed with playful deviations the track of their
leader, and moved on with unabated neetness to their
celestial music, till gradually, as they entered the nar
row strait between Glenaa and Dinis, they became in
volved in the mists which still partially floated over the
lakes, and faded from the view of the wondering be
holders; but the sound of their music still fell upon
the ear, and echo, catching up the harmonious strains,
fondly repeated and prolonged them in soft and softer
tones, till the last faint repetition died away, and the
hearers awoke as from a dream of bliss.
KENT DAY
"On, ullagone ! ullagone ! this is a wide world, but
what will we do in it, or where will we go ?" muttered
Bill Doody, as he sat on a rock by the Lake of Kil-
larney. "What will we do ? To-morrow s rent day, and
Tim the Driver swears if we don t pay our rent, he ll
cant every ha perth we have; and then, sure enough,
there s Judy and myself, and the poor grawls* will be
turned out to starve on the high-road, for never a
halfpenny of rent have I ! Oh hone, that ever I should
live to see this day!"
Thus did Bill Doody bemoan his hard fate pouring
his sorrows to the reckless waves of the most beauti
ful of lakes, which seemed to mock his misery as they
rejoiced beneath the cloudless sky of a May morning.
That lake, glittering in sunshine, sprinkled with fairy
isles of rock and verdure, and bounded by giant hills
of ever-varying hues, might, with its magic beauty,
charm all sadness but despair; for alas,
"How ill the scene that offers rest
And heart that cannot rest agree!"
* Children.
218 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Yet Bill Doody was not so desolate as he supposed;
there was one listening to him he little thought of, and
help was at hand from a quarter he could not have
expected.
"What s the matter with you, my poor man?" said a
tall, portly-looking gentleman, at the same time step
ping out of a furze-brake. Now Bill was seated on a
rock that commanded the view of a large field. Noth
ing in the field could be concealed from him, except
this furze-brake, which grew in a hollow near the mar
gin of the lake. He was, therefore, not a little sur
prised at the gentleman s sudden appearance, and be
gan to question whether the personage before him
belonged to this world or not. He, however, soon mus
tered courage sufficient to tell him how his crops had
failed, how some bad member had charmed away his
butter, and how Tim the Driver threatened to turn
him out of the farm if he didn t pay up every penny
of the rent by twelve o clock next day.
"A sad story, indeed," said the stranger; "but surely,
if you represented the case to your landlord s agent,
he won t have the heart to turn you out."
"Heart, your honor; where would an agent get a
heart !" exclaimed Bill. "I see your honor does not
know him; besides, he has an eye on the farm this
long time for a fosterer of his own; so I expect no
mercy at all at all, only to be turned out."
"Take this, my poor fellow, take this," said the
stranger, pouring a purse full of gold into Bill s old
hat, which in his grief he had flung on the ground.
"Pay the fellow your rent, but I ll take care it shall do
him no good. I remember the time when things went
otherwise in this country, when I would have hung up
such a fellow in the twinkling of an eye !"
These words were lost upon Bill, who was insensible
to everything but the sight of the gold, and before he
could unfix his gaze, and lift up his head to pour out
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 219
his hundred thousand blessings, the stranger was gone.
The bewildered peasant looked around in search of
his benefactor, and at last he thought he saw him
riding on a white horse a long way off on the lake.
"O Donoghue, O Donoghue," shouted Bill; "the
good, the blessed O Donoghue !" and he ran capering
like a madman to show Judy the gold, and to rejoice
her heart with the prospect of wealth and happiness.
The next day Bill proceeded to the agent s; not
sneakingly, with his hat in his hand, his eyes fixed on
the ground, and his knees bending under him; but
bold and upright, like a man conscious of his inde
pendence.
"Why don t you take off your hat, fellow? don t you
know you are speaking to a magistrate ?" said the agent.
"I know I m not speaking to the king, sir," said Bill ;
"and I never takes off my hat but to them I can re
spect and love. The Eye that sees all knows I ve no
right either to respect or love an agent!"
"You scoundrel !" retorted the man in office, biting
his lips with rage at such an unusual and unexpected
opposition, "I ll teach you how to be insolent again;
I have the power, remember."
"To the cost of the country, I know you have," said
Bill, who still remained with his head as firmly cov
ered as if he was the Lord Kingsale himself.
"But, come," said the magistrate; "have you got the
money for me ? This is rent day. If there s one penny
of it wanting, or the running gale that s due, prepare
to turn out before night, for you shall not remain an
other hour in possession."
"There is your rent," said Bill, with an unmoved ex
pression of tone and countenance; "you d better count
it, and give me a receipt in full for the running gale
and all."
The agent gave a look of amazement at the gold ; for
it was gold real guineas ! and not bits of dirty ragged
220 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
small notes, that are only fit to light one s pipe with.
However willing the agent may have been to ruin, as
he thought, the unfortunate tenant, he took up the gold,
and handed the receipt to Bill, who strutted off with
it as proud as a cat of her whiskers.
The agent going to his desk shortly after, was con
founded at beholding a heap of gingerbread cakes in
stead of the money he had deposited there. He raved
and swore, but all to no purpose; the gold had be
come gingerbread cakes, just marked like guineas, with
the king s head ; and Bill had the receipt in his pocket ;
so he saw there was no use in saying anything about
the affair, as he would only get laughed at for his
pains.
From that hour Bill Doody grew rich ; all his under
takings prospered; and he often blesses the day that
he met with O Donoghue, the great prince that lives
down under the lake of Killarney.
LOUGHLEAGH (LAKE OF HEALING)*
"Do you see that bit of a lake ?" said my companion,
turning his eyes towards the acclivity that overhung
Loughleagh. "Troth, and as little as you think of it,
and as ugly as it looks with its weeds and its flags, it is
the most famous one in all Ireland. Young and ould,
rich and poor, far and near, have come to that lake
to get cured of all kinds of scurvy and sores. The
Lord keep us our limbs whole and sound, for it s a
sorrowful thing not to have the use o them. Twas
but last week we had a great grand Frenchman here;
and, though he came upon crutches, faith he went home
*Dul>Un and London Magazine, 1825.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 221
sound as a bell ; and well he paid Billy Eeily for curing
him."
"And, pray, how did Billy Eeily cure him ?"
"Oh, well enough. He took his long pole, dipped it
down to the bottom of the lake, and brought up on the
top of it as much plaster as would do for a thousand
sores I"
"What kind of plaster?"
"What kind of plaster ? why, black plaster to be sure ;
for isn t the bottom of the lake filled with a kind of
black mud which cures all the world?"
"Then it ought to be a famous lake indeed."
"Famous, and so it is," replied my companion, "but
it isn t for its cures neather that it is famous ; for, sure,
doesn t all the world know there is a fine beautiful
city at the bottom of it, where the good people live
just like Christians? Troth, it is the truth I tell you;
for Shemus-a-sneidh saw it all when he followed his dun
cow that was stolen."
"Who stole her?"
"I ll tell you all about it: Shemus was a poor gos
soon, who lived on the brow of the hill, in a cabin with
his ould mother. They lived by hook and by crook,
one way and another, in the best way they could. They
had a bit of ground that gave em the preaty, and a
little dun cow that gave em the drop o milk; and,
considering how times go, they weren t badly off, for
Shemus was a handy gossoon to boot; and, while
minden the cow, cut heath and made brooms, which
his mother sould on a market day, and brought home
the bit o tobaccy, the grain of salt, and other nic-
nackenes, which a poor body can t well do widout.
Once upon a time, however, Shemus went farther than
usual up the mountain, looken for long heath, for
townspeople don t like to stoop, and so like long
handles to their brooms. The little dun cow was a most
as cunning as a Christian sinner, and followed Shemus
222 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
like a lap dog everywhere he d go, so that she required
little or no herden. On this day she found nice picken
on a round spot as green as a leek; and, as poor
Shemus was weary, as a body would be on a fine sum
mer s day, he lay down on the grass to rest himself,
just as we re resten ourselves on the cairn here. Begad,
he hadn t long lain there, sure enough, when, what
should he see but whole loads of ganconers* dancing
about the place. Some o them were hurlen, some kick
ing a football, and others leaping a kick-step-and-a-
lep. They were so soople and so active that Shemus
was highly delighted with the sport, and a little tanned
skinned chap in a red cap pleased him better than any
o them, bekase* he used to tumble the other fellows like
mushrooms. At one time he had kept the ball up for
as good as half-an-hour, when Shemus cried out, Well
done, my hurler! The word wasn t well out of his
mouth when whap went the ball on his eye, and flash
went the fire. Poor Shemus thought he was blind, and
roared out, Mille murdher ! t but the only thing he
heard was a loud laugh. Cross o. Christ about us/
says he to> himself, what is this for? and afther rub
bing his eyes they came to a little, . and he could see
the sun and the sky, and by-and-by, he could see every
thing but his cow and the mischievous ganconers.
They were gone ta their rath or mote; but where was
the little dun cow ? He looked, and he looked, and he
might have looked from that day to this, bekase she
wasn t to be found, and good reason why the gan
coners took her away with em.
"Shemus-a-sneidh, however, didn t think so, but ran
home to his mother.
" Where is the cow, Shemus ? axed the ould woman.
* Ir. gean-canach i.e., love-talker, a kind of fairy appear
ing in lonesome valleys, a dudeen (tobacco-pipe) in his
mouth, making love to milk-maids, etc.
fA. thousand murders.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 223
a< 0ch, musha, bad luck to her/ said Shemus, I
donna where she is !
" Is that an answer, you big blaggard, for the likes
o you to give your poor ould mother? said she.
" Och, musha/ said Shemus, don t kick up saich a
bollhous about nothing. The ould cow is safe enough,
I ll be bail, some place or other, though I could find her
if I put my eyes upon Icippeens* and, speaking of eyes,
faith, I had very good luck o my side, or I had naver
a one to look after her/ ^
" Why, what happened your eyes, agrah ? axed the
ould woman.
" Oh, didn t the ganconers che Lord save us from
all hurt and harm ! drive their hurlen ball into them
both! and sure I was stone blind for an hour/
" And may be/ said the mother, the good people
took our cow?
" No, nor the devil a one of them/ said Shemus,
for, by the powers, that same cow is as knowen as a
lawyer, and wouldn t be such a fool as to go with the
ganconers while she could get such grass as I found for
her to-day/ ;
In this way, continued my informant, they talked
about the cow all that night, and next mornen both o 1
them set off to look for her. After searching every
place, high and low, what should Shemus see sticking
out of a bog hole but something very like the horns of
his little beast!
"Oh, mother, mother," said he, "I ve found her!"
"Where, alanna?" axed the ould woman.
"In the bog hole, mother," answered Shemus.
At this the poor ould creathure set up such a pul-
lallue that she brought the seven parishes about her;
and the neighbors soon pulled the cow out of the bog
* Ir. cipin i.e., a stick, a twig.
224: IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
hole. You d swear it was the same, and yet it wasn t,
as you shall hear by-and-by.
Shemus and his mother brought the dead beast home
with them; and, after skinnen her, hung the meat up
in the chimney. The loss of the drop o milk was a
sorrowful thing, and though they had a good deal of
meat, that couldn t last always; besides, the whole
parish faughed upon them for eating the flesh of a
beast that died without bleeden. But the pretty thing
was, they couldn t eat the meat after all, for when it
was boiled it was as tough as carrion, and as black as
a turf. You might as well think of sinking your teeth
in an oak plank as into a piece of it, and then you d
want to sit a great piece from the wall for fear of
knocking your head against it when pulling it through
your teeth. At last and at long run they were forced
to throw it to the dogs, but the dogs wouldn t smell
to it, and so it was thrown into the ditch, where it
rotted. This misfortune cost poor Shemus many a salt
tear, for he was now obliged to work twice as hard as
before, and be out cutten heath on the mountain late
and early. One day he was passing by this cairn with
a load of brooms on his back, when what should he
see but the little dun cow and two red-headed fellows
herding her.
"That s my mother s cow," said Shemus-a-sneidh.
"No, it is not/ said one of the chaps.
"But I say it is," said Shemus, throwing the brooms
on the ground, and seizing the cow by the horns. At
that the red fellows drove her as fast as they could to
this steep place, and with one leap she bounced over,
with Shemus stuck fast to her horns. They made only
one splash in the lough, when the waters closed over
em, and they sunk to the bottom. Just as Shemus-a-
sneidh thought that* all was over with him, he found
himself before a most elegant palace built with jewels,
and all manner of fine stones. Though his eyes were
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 225
dazzled with the splendor of the place, faith he had
gomsh* enough not to let go his holt, but in spite of all
they could do, he held his little, cow by the horns. He
was axed into the palace, but wouldn t go.
The hubbub at last grew so great that the door flew
open, and out walked a hundred ladies and gentlemen,
as fine as any in the land.
"What does this boy want?" axed one o them, who
seemed to be the. masther.
"I want my mother s cow," said Shemus.
"That s not your mother s cow," said the gentleman.
"Bethershin !" t cried Shemus-a-sneidh ; "don t I
know her as well as I know my right hand?"
"Where did you lose her ?" axed the gentleman. And
so Shemus up and tould him all about it: how he was
on the mountain how he saw the good people hurlen
how the ball was knocked in his eye, and his cow was
lost.
"I believe you are right," said the gentleman, pull
ing out his purse, "and here is the price of twenty
cows for you."
"No, no," said Shemus, "you ll not catch ould birds
wid chaff. I ll have my cow and nothen else."
"You re a funny fellow," said the gentleman; "stop
here and live in a palace."
"I d rather live with my mother."
"Fqolish boy!" said the gentleman; "stop here and
live in a palace."
"I d rather live in my mother s cabin."
"Here you can walk through gardens loaded with
fruit and flowers."
"I d rather," said Shemus, "be cutting heath on the
mountain."
"Here you can eat and drink of the best."
* Otherwise "gumshun " i.e., sense, cuteness.
f Ir. B gidir sin i. e., "that is possible."
226 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Since I ve got my cow, I can have milk once more
with the praties."
"Oh !" cried the ladies, gathering round him, "sure
you wouldn t take away the cow that gives us milk
for our tea?"
"Oh!" said Shemus, "my mother wants milk as bad
as anyone, and she must have it; so there is no use
in your palaver I must have my cow."
At this they all gathered about him and offered him
bushels of gould, but he wouldn t have anything but
his cow. Seeing him as obstinate as a mule, they began
to thump- and beat him; but still he held fast by the
horns, till at length a great blast of wind blew him
out of the place, and in a moment he found himself
and the cow standing on the side of the lake, the
water of which looked as if it hadn t been disturbed
since Adam was a boy and that s a long time since.
Well, Shemus-a-sneidh drove home his cow, and right
glad his mother was to see her; but the moment she
said "God bless the beast," she sunk down like the
breesha* of a turf rick. That was the end of Shemus-
a-sneidh s dun cow.
"And, sure," continued my companion, standing up,
"it is now time for me to look after my brown cow,
and God send the ganconers haven t taken her!"
Of this I assured him there could be no fear; and so
we parted.
HY-BKASAII>-THE ISLE OF THE BLEST
BY GEKALD GRIFFIN
On the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell,
A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell;
Men thought it a region of sunshine and rest,
And thy called it Hy-Brasail, the isle of the blest.
* Ir. briseadh i.e., breaking.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 22?
From year unto year on the ocean s blue rim,
The beautiful specter showed lovely and dim ;
The golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay,
And it looked like an Eden, away, far away !
A peasant who heard of the wonderful tale,
In the breeze of the Orient loosened his sail;
From Ara, the holy, he turned to the west,
For though Ara was holy, Hy-Brcvsail was blest.
He heard not the voices that called from the shore-
He heard not the rising wind s menacing roar ;
Home, kindred, and safety, he left on that day,
And he sped to Hy-Brasail, away, far away!
Morn rose on the deep, and that shadowy isle,
O er the faint rim of distance, reflected its smile;
Noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore
Seemed lovelily distant, and faint as before;
Lone evening came down on the wanderer s track,
And to Ara again he looked timidly back;
Oh ! far on the verge of the ocean it lay,
Yet the isle of the blest was away, far away !
Rash dreamer, return ! 0, ye winds of the main,
Bear him back to his own peaceful Ara again.
Rash fool ! for a vision of fanciful bliss,
To barter thy calm life of labor and peace.
The warning of reason was spoken in vain;
He never revisited Ara again !
Night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray,
And he died on the waters, away, far away !
228 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE PHANTOM ISLE
GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS*
AMONG the other islands is one newly formed,
which they call the Phantom Isle, which had its origin
in this manner. One calm day a large mass of earth
rose to the surface of the sea, where no land had ever
been seen before, to the great amazement of islanders
who observed it. Some of them said that it was a
whale or other immense sea monster; others, remark
ing that it continued motionless, said, "No ; it is land/
In order, therefore, to reduce their doubts to certainty,
some picked young men of the island determined to
approach nearer the spot in a boat. When, however,
they came so near to it that they thought they should
go on shore, the island sank in the water and entirely
vanished from sight. The next day it reappeared, and
again mocked the same youths with the like delusion.
At length, on their rowing toward it on the third day,
they followed the advice of an older man, and let fly
an arrow, barbed with red-hot steel, against the island;
and then landing, found it stationary and habitable.
This adds one to the many proofs that fire is the
greatest of enemies to every sort of phantom; in so
much that those who have seen apparitions, fall into
a swoon as soon as they are sensible of the brightness
of fire. For fire, both from its position and nature, is
the noblest of the elements, being a witness of the
secrets of the heavens.
The sky is fiery; the planets are fiery; the bush
burnt with fire, but was not consumed; the Holy
Ghost sat upon the apostles in tongues of fire.
* "Giraldus Cainbrensis" was born in 1146, and wrote a
celebrated account of Ireland.
SAINTS, PRIESTS
EVERYWHERE in Ireland are the holy wells. People as
they pray by them make little piles of stones, that will be
counted at the last day and the prayers reckoned up. Some
times they tell stories. These following are their stories.
They deal with the old times, whereof King Alfred of North
umberland wrote :
"I found in Innisfail the fair,
In Ireland, while in exile there,
Women of worth, both grave and gay men,
Many clericks and many laymen.
Gold and silver I found, and money,
Plenty of wheat, and plenty of honey ;
I found God s people rich in pity,
Found many a feast, and many a city."
, There are no martyrs in the stories. That ancient chron
icler Giraldus taunted the Archbishop of Cashel because no
one in Ireland had received the crown of martyrdom. "Our
people may be barbarous." the prelate answered, "but they
have never lifted their hands against God s saints ; but now
that a people have come among us who know how to make
them (it was just after the English invasion), we shall have
martyrs plentifully."
The bodies of saints are fastidious things. At a place
called Four-mile-Water, in Wexford, there is an old grave
yard full of saints. Once it was on the other side of the
river, but they buried a rogue there, and the whole grave
yard moved across in the night, leaving the rogue-corpse in
solitude. It would have been easier to move merely the
rogue-corpse, but they were saints, and had to do things in
style.
230 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE PKIESTS SOUL*
LADY WILDE
IN former clays Ihere were great schools in Ireland,
where every sort of learning was taught to the people,
and even the poorest had more knowledge at that time
than many a gentleman has now. But as to the priests,
their learning was above all, so that the fame of Ire
land went over the whole world, and many kings from
foreign lands used to send their sons all the way to
Ireland to be brought up in the Irish schools.
Now, at this time there was a little boy learning at
one of them who was a wonder to everyone for his
cleverness. His parents were only laboring people, and
of course poor; but young as he was, and as poor as
he was, no king s or lord s son could come up to him
in learning. Even the masters were put to shame;
for when they were trying to teach him he would tell
them something they never heard of before, and show
them their ignorance. One of his great triumphs was
in argument; and he would go on till he proved to
you that black was white, and then when you gave in,
for no one could beat him in talk, he would turn round
and show you that white was black, or maybe that
there was no color at all in the world. When he grew
up his poor father and mother were so proud of him
that they resolved to make him a priest, which they
did at last, though they nearly starved themselves to
get the money. Well, such another learned man was
not in Ireland, and he was as great in argument as ever,
so that no one could stand before him. Even the bishops
tried to talk to him, but he showed them at once they
knew nothing at all.
Now, there were no schoolmasters in those times,
* Ancient Legends of Ireland.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 231
but it was the priests taught the people; and as this
man was the cleverest in Ireland, all the foreign kings
sent their sons to him, as long as he had house room to
give them. So he grew very proud, and began to for
get how low he had been, and worst of all, even to for
get God, who had made him what he was. And the
pride of arguing got hold of him, so that from one
thing to another he went on to prove that there was
no Purgatory, and then no Hell, and then no Heaven,
and then no God; and at last that men had no souls,
but were no more than a dog or a cow, and when they
died there was an end of them. "Whoever saw a
soul?" he would say. "If you can show me one, I will
believe/ 5 No one could make any answer to this; and
at last they all came to believe that as there was no
other world, everyone might do what they liked in this ;
the priest setting the example, for he took a beautiful
young girl to wife. But as no priest or bishop in the
whole land could be got to marry them, he was obliged
to read the service over for himself. It was a great
scandal, yet no one dared to say a word, for all the
kings sons were on his side, and would have slaugh
tered anyone who tried to prevent his wicked goings-
on. Poor boys; they all believed in him, and thought
every word he said was the truth. In this way his
notions began to spread about, and the whole world
was going to the bad, when one night an angel came
dow r n from Heaven, and told the priest he had but
twenty-four hours to live. He began to tremble, and
asked for a little more time.
But the angel was stiff, and told him that could
not be.
"What do you want time for, you sinner?" he asked.
"Oh, sir, have pity on my poor soul!" urged the
priest.
"Oh, no! You have a soul, then," said the angel.
"Pray, how did you find that out?"
232 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"It has been fluttering in me ever since you ap
peared/ answered the priest. "What a fool I was not
to think of it before."
"A fool, indeed/ said the angel." "What good was
all your learning, when it could not tell you that you
had a soul?"
"Ah, my lord," said the priest, "if I am to die, tell
me how soon I may be in Heaven?"
"Never," replied the angel. "You denied there was
a Heaven."
"Then, my lord, may I go to Purgatory?"
"You denied Purgatory also; you must go straight
to Hell," said the angel.
"But, my lord, I denied Hell also," answered the
priest, "so you can t send me there either."
The angel was a little puzzled.
"Well," said he, "I ll tell you what I can do for you.
You may either live now on earth for a hundred years,
enjoying every pleasure, and then be cast into Hell for
ever; or you may die in twenty-four hours in the most
horrible torments, and pass through Purgatory, there
to remain till the Day of Judgment, if only you can
find some one person that believes, and through his
belief mercy will be vouchsafed to you, and your soul
will be saved."
The priest did not take five minutes to make up his
mind.
"I will have death in the twenty-four hours," he
said, "so that my soul may be saved at last."
On this the angel gave him directions as to what he
was to do, and left him.
Then immediately the priest entered the large room
where all the scholars and the kings sons were seated,
and called out to them:
"Now, tell me the truth, and let none fear to con
tradict me; tell me what is your belief have men
souls?"
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 233
"Master," they answered, "once we believed that
men had souls; but thanks to your teaching, we believe
so no longer. There is no Hell, and no Heaven, and
no God. This is our belief, for it is thus you taught
us."
Then the priest grew pale with fear, and cried out:
"Listen ! I taught you a lie. There is a God, and man
has an immortal soul. I believe now all I denied be
fore."
But the shouts of laughter that rose up drowned the
priest s voice, for they thought he was only trying them
for argument.
"Prove it, master," they cried. "Prove it. Who has
ever seen God? Who has ever seen the soul?"
And the room was stirred with their laughter.
The priest stood up to answer them, but no word
could he utter. All his eloquence, all his powers of
argument had gone from him ; and he could do nothing
but wring his hands and cry out, "There is a God !
there is a God ! Lord have mercy on my soul !"
And they all began to mock him and repeat his own
words that he had taught them :
"Show him to us; show us your God." And he fled
from them groaning with agony, for he saw that none
believed; and how, then, could his soul be saved?
But he thought next of his wife. "She will believe,"
he said to himself; "women never give up God."
And he went to her; but she told him that she be
lieved only what he had taught her, and that a good
wife should believe in her husband first and before
and above all things in Heaven or earth.
Then despair came on him, and he rushed from the
house, and began to ask every one he met if they be
lieved. But the same answer came from one and all:
"We believe only what you have taught us," for his
doctrine had spread far and wide through the country.
Then he grew half mad with fear, for the hours were
234: IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
passing, and he flung himself down on the ground in a
lonesome spot, and wept and groaned in terror, for the
time was coming fast when he must die.
Just then a little child came by. "God save you
kindly/ said the child to him.
The priest started up.
"Do you believe in God?" he asked.
"I have come from a far country to learn about
him," said the child. "Will your honor direct me to
the best school they have in these parts ?"
"The best school and the best teacher is close by,"
said the priest, and he named himself.
"Oh, not to that man/ answered the child, "for I am
told he denies God, and Heaven, and Hell, and even
that man has a soul, because he cannot see it; but I
would soon put him down."
The priest looked at him earnestly. "How?" he
inquired.
"Why," said the child, "I would ask him if he be
lieved he had life to show me his life."
"But he could not do that, my child," said the priest.
"Life cannot be seen; we have it, but it is invisible."
"Then if we have life, though we cannot see it, we
may also have a soul, though it is invisible," answered
the child.
When the priest heard him speak these words, he
fell down on his knees before him, weeping for joy,
for now he knew his soul was safe; he had met one at
last that believed. And he told the child his whole
story all his wickedness, and pride, and blasphemy
against the great God; and how the angel had come
to him, and told him of the only way in which he could
be saved, through the faith and prayers of someone
that believed.
"Now, then," he said to the child, "take this pen
knife annd strike it into my breast, and go on stabbing
the flesh until you see the paleness of death on my
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 235
face. Then watch for a living thing will soar Tip
from my body as I die, and you will then know that my
soul has ascended to the presence of God. And when
you see this thing, make haste and run to my school,
and call on all my scholars to come and see that the
soul of their master has left the body, and that all he
taught them was a lie, for that there is a G-od who
punishes sin, and a Heaven, and a Hell, and that man
has an immortal soul destined for eternal happiness or
misery."
"I will pray/ said the child, "to have courage to do
this work." And he kneeled down and prayed. Then
he rose and took the penknife and struck it into the
priest s heart, and struck and struck again till all the
flesh was lacerated; but still the priest lived, though
the agony was horrible, for he could not die until the
twenty-four hours had expired.
At last the agony seemed to cease, and the stillness
of death settled on his face. Then the child, who
was watching, saw a beautiful living creature, with
four snow-white wings, mount from the dead man s
body into the air and go fluttering round his head.
So he ran to bring the scholars; and when they saw
it, they all knew it was the soul of their master; and
they watched with wonder and awe until it passed from
sight into the clouds.
And this was the first butterfly that was ever seen
in Ireland; and now all men know that the butterflies
are the souls of the dead, waiting for the moment when
they may enter Purgatory, and so pass through torture
to purification and peace.
But the schools of Ireland were quite deserted after
that time, for people said, What is the use of going so
far to learn, when the wisest man in all Ireland did
not know if he had a soul till he was near losing it,
and was only saved at last through the simple belief
of a little child?
236 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE PEIEST OF COLOONY
W. B. TEATS
GOOD Father John O Hart
In penal days rode out
To a shoneen in his freelands,
With his snipe marsh and his trout.
In trust took he John s lands,
Sleiveens were all his race
And he gave them as dowers to his daughters.,
And they married beyond their place.
But Father John went up,
And Father John went down;
And he wore small holes in his shoes,
And he wore large holes in his gown.
All loved him, only the shoneen,
Whom the devils have by the hair,
From their wives and their cats and their children.
To the birds in the white of the air.
The birds, for he opened their cages,
As he went up and down;
And he said with a smile, "Have peace now,"
And went his way with a frown.
But if when anyone died,
Came keeners hoarser than rooks,
He bade them give over their keening,
For he was a man of books.
Shoneen i.e., upstart. Sleiveeni.e., mean fellow.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 237
And these were the works of John,
When weeping score by score,
People came into Coloony,
For he d died at ninety-four.
There was no human keening;
The birds from Knocknarea,
And the world round Knocknashee,
Came keening in that day,
Keening from Innismurry,
Nor stayed for bit or sup;
This way were all reproved
Who dig old customs up.
[Coloony is a few miles south of the town of Sligo
Father O Hart lived there in the last century, and was
greatly beloved. These lines accurately record the tradition.
No one who has held the stolen land has prospered. It has
changed owners many times.]
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE BIRD*
T. CROFTON- CEOKER
MANY years ago there was a very religious and holy
man, one of the monks of a convent, and he was one
day kneeling at his prayers in the garden of his monas
tery, when he heard a little bird singing in one of
the rose trees of the garden, and there never was any
thing that he had heard in the world so sweet as the
song of that little bird.
And the holy man rose up from his knees where he
* Amulet, 1827. T. C Croker wrote this, he says, word
for word as he heard it from an old woman at a holy well.
238 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
was kneeling at his prayers to listen to its song; for
he thought he never in all his life heard anything so
heavenly.
And the little bird, after singing for some time
longer on the rose tree, flew away to a grove at some
distance from the monastery, and the holy man fol
lowed it to* listen to its singing, for he felt as if he
would never be tired of listening to the sweet song it
was singing out of its throat.
And the little bird after that went away to another
distant tree, and sang there for a while, and then to
another tree, and so on in the same manner, but ever
further and further away from the monastery, and the
holy man still following it farther and farther and
farther, still listening delighted to its enchanting song.
But at last he was obliged to give up, as it was grow
ing late in the day, and he returned to the convent;
and as he approached it in the evening, the sun was
setting in the west with all the most heavenly colors
that were ever seen in the world, and when he came
into the convent, it was nightfall.
And he was quite surprised at everything he saw, for
they were all strange faces about him in the monastery
that he had never seen before, and the very place itself,
and everything about it, seemed to be strangely
altered; and, altogether, it seemed entirely different
from what it was when he had left in the morning;
and the garden was not like the garden where he had
been kneeling at his devotion when he first heard the
singing of the little bird.
And while he was wondering at all he saw, one of
the monks of the convent came up to him, and the
holy man questioned him, "Brother, what is the cause
of all these strange changes that have taken place here
since the morning?"
And the monk that he spoke to seemed to wonder
greatly at his question, and asked him what he meant
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 239
by the change since morning; for, sure, there was no
change; that all was just as before. And then he said,
"Brother, why do you ask these strange questions, and
what is your name? For you wear the habit of our
order, though we have never seen you before."
So upon this the holy man told his name, and said
that he had been at mass in the chapel in the morning
before he had wandered away from the garden listening
to the song of a little bird that was singing among the
rose trees, near where he was kneeling at his prayers.
And the brother, while he was speaking, gazed at
him very earnestly, and then told him that there was
in the convent a tradition of a brother of his name,
who had left it two hundred years before, but that
what was become of him was never known.
And while he was speaking, the holy man said. "My
hour of death is come ; blessed be the name of the Lord
for all his mercies to me, through the merits of his
only begotten Son."
And he kneeled down that very moment, and said,
"Brother, take my confession, for my soul is ctepart-
ing."
And he made his confession, and received his absolu
tion, and was anointed, and before midnight he died.
The little bird, you see, was an angel, one of the
cherubim or seraphim; and that was the way the Al
mighty was pleased in His mercy to take to Himself
the soul of that holy man.
CONVERSION OF KING LAOGHAIRE S
DAUGHTERS
ONCE when Patrick and his clerics were sitting be
side a well in the Rath of Croghan, with books open
on their knees, they saw coming toward them the two
240 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
only daughters of the King of Connaught. Twas
early morning,, and they were going to the well to
bathe.
The young girls said to Patrick, "Whence are ye,
and whence come ye?" and Patrick answered, "It were
better for you to confess to the true -God than to in
quire concerning our race."
"Who is God," said the young girls, "and where is
God, and of what nature is God, and where is His
dwelling place? Has your God sons and daughters,
gold and silver? Is He everlasting? Is He beautiful?
Did Mary foster her son? Are His daughters dear
and beauteous to men of the world? Is He in heaven
or on earth, in the sea, in rivers, in mountainous
places, in valleys?"
Patrick answered them, and made known who God
was, and they believed and were baptized, and a white
garment put upon their heads; and Patrick asked
them would they live on, or would they die and be
hold the face of Christ? They chose death, and died
immediately, and were buried near the well Clebach.
KING OTOOLE AND HIS GOOSE
S. LOVER
"By Gor, I thought all the world, far and near,
heerd o King O Toole well, well, but the darkness of
mankind is ontellible ! Well, sir, you must know, as
you didn t hear it afore, that there was a king called
King O Toole, who was a fine ould king in the ould
ancient times, long ago; and it was him that owned
the churches in the early days. The king, you see, was
the right sort; he was the rale boy, and loved sport as
he loved his life, and huntin in particular; and from
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 241
the risin o the sun, up he got, and away he wint over
the mountains beyant afther the deer; and the fine
times them woor.
"Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king
had his health ; but, you see, in coorse of time the king
grew ould, by raison he was stiff in his limbs, and when
he got sthriken in years, his heart failed him, and he
was lost intirely for want o divarshin, bekase he
couldn t go a huntin no longer; and, by dad, the poor
king was obleeged at last for to get a goose to divart
him. Oh, you may laugh, if you like, but it s truth
I m tellin you; and the way the goose divarted him
was this-a-way: You see, the goose used for to swim
across the lake, and go divin for throut, and cotch fish
on a Friday for the king, and flew every other day
round about the lake, divartin the poor king. All went
on mighty well, antil, by dad, the goose got sthriken
in years like her master, and couldn t divart him no
longer, and then it was that the poor king was lost
complate. The king was walkin one mornin* by the
edge of the lake, lamentin his cruel fate, and thinkin
o drownin himself, that could get no divarshun in
life, when all of a suddint, turnin round the corner
beyant, who should he meet but a mighty dacent young
man comin up to him.
" God save you/ says the king to the young man.
" God save you kindly, King O Toole/ says Re
young man. Thrue for you/ says the king. "I am
King O Toole/ says he, prince and plennypennytinch-
ery o these parts/ says he; but how kem ye to know
that? says he. Oh, never mind/ says Saint Kavin.
"You see it was Saint Kavin, sure enough the saint
himself in disguise, and nobody else. Oh, never mind/
says he, I. know more than that. May I make bowld
to ax how is your goose, King O Toole ? says he. Blur-
an-agers, how kem ye to know about my goose V says
the king. Oh, no matther; I was given to understand
242 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
it/ says Saint Kavin. After some more talk the king
says, What are you? I m an honest man/ says Saint
Kavin. Well, honest man/ says the king, and how is
it you make your money so aisy ? By makin ould
things as good as new/ says Saint Kavin. Is it a
tinker you are? says the king. No/ says the saint;
I m no tinker by thrade, King O Toole; I ve a better
thrade than a tinker/ says he what would you say/
says he, if I made your ould goose as good as new?
"My dear, at the word o making his goose as good
as new, you d think the poor ould king s eyes was
ready to jump out iv his head. With that the king
whistled, and down kern the poor goose, all as one as a
hound, waddlin up to the poor cripple, her masther,
and as like him as two pays. The minute the saint
clapt his eyes on the goose, I ll do the job for you/
says he, King O Toole. By Jcminee! says King
O Toole, if you do, bud I ll say you re the cleverest fel
low in the sivin parishes/ Oh, by dad/ says Saint Ka
vin, you must say more nor that my horn s not
so soft all out/ says he, as to repair your ould goose
for nothin ; what il you gi me if I do the job for you?
that s the chat/ says Saint Kavin. I ll give you what
ever you ax/ says the king; isn t that fair? Divil a
fairer/ says the saint; that s the way to do business.
Now/ says he, this is the bargain I ll make with you,
King O Toole: Will you gi me all the ground the
goose flies over, the first offer, afther I make her as
good as new? I will/ says the king. You won t go
back on your word ? says Saint Kavin. Honor bright ! "
says King O Toole, howldin out his fist, Honor bright/
says Saint Kavin, back again, it s a bargain. Come
here ! says he to the poor ould goose come here, you
unfort nate ould cripple, and it s I that ll make you
the sportin bird. With that, my dear, he took up the
goose by the two wings Criss o my crass an you/
says he, markin her to grace with the blessed sign at
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 243
the same minute and throwin her up in the air,
whew/ says he, just givin her a blast to help her ; and
with that, my jewel, she tuk to her heels, flyin like
one o the aigles themselves, and cuttin as many capers
as a swallow before a shower of rain.
"Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the
king standin with his mouth open, lookin at his
poor ould goose flyin as light as a lark, and betther
nor ever she was: and when she lit at his fut, patted
her an the head, and, Ma vourneen/ says he, but you
are the darlint o the world/ And what do you say
to me/ says Saint Kavin, for makin her the like?
/By gor/ says the king, I say nothin bates the art o
man, barrin the bees/ And do you say na more nor
that? says Saint Kavin. And that I m behoulden to
you/ says the king. But will you gi e me all the
ground the goose flew over ? says Saint Kavin. I will/
says King O Toole, and you re welkim to it/ says he,
though it s the last acre I have to give. But you ll
keep your word thrue? says the saint. As thrue as
the sun/ says the king. It s well for you, King
O Toole, that you said that word/ says he; for if you
didn t say that word, the devil receave the bit o your
goose id ever fly agin/ When the king was as good as
his word, Saint Kavin was plazed with hini, and thin
it was that he made himself known to the king. And/
says he, King O Toole, you re a decent man, for I only
kem here to tliry you. You don t know me/ says he,
bekase I m disguised. Musha ! thin/ says the king,
who are you? I m Saint Kavin/ said the saint,
blessin himself. Oh, queen iv heaven ! says the king,
makin the sign o the crass betune his eyes, and fallin
down on his knees before the saint; is it the great
Saint Kavin/ says he, that I ve been discoorsin all
this time without knowin it/ says he, all as one as if
he was a lump iv a gossoon? and so you re a saint?
says the king. I am/ says Saint Kavin. By gor, I
244 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
thought I was only talking to a dacent boy/ says the
king. Well, you know the differ now/ says the saint.
I m Saint Kavin/ says he, the greatest of all the saints/
And so the king had his goose as good as new, to divart
him as long as he lived: and the saint supported him
afther he kem into his property, as I tould you, until
the day iv his death and that was soon afther; for the
poor goose thought he was ketchin a throut one Friday ;
but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made and instead
of a throut, it was a thievin horse-eel; and by gor, in
stead iv the goose killin a throut for the king s supper
by dad, the eel killed the king s goose and small blarae
to him ; but he didn t ate her, bekase he darn t ate what
Saint Kavin laid his blessed hands on."
THE DEVIL
THE DEMON CAT*
LADY WILDE
TitERE was a woman in Connemara, the wife of a
fisherman; as he had always good luck, she had plenty
of fish at all times stored away in the house ready for
market. But, to her great annoyance, she found that a
great cat used to come in at night and devour all the
best and finest fish. So she kept a big stick by her, and
determined to watch.
One day, as she and a woman were spinning together,
the house suddenly became quite dark; and the door
was burst open as if by the blast of the tempest, when
in walked a huge black cat, who went straight up to
the fire, then turned round and growled at them.
"Why, surely this is the devil," said a young girl, who
was by, sorting fish.
"I ll teach you how to call me* names," said the cat;
and, jumping at her, he scratched her arm till the
blood came. "There, now," he said, "you will be more
civil another time when a gentleman comes to see you."
And with that he walked over to the door and shut it
close, to prevent any of them going out, for the poor
young girl, while crying loucHy from fright and pain,
had made a desperate rush to get away.
Just then a man was going by, and hearing the cries,
he pushed open the door and tried to get in; but the
cat stood on the threshold, and would let no one pass*
* Ancient Legends of Ireland.
346 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
On this the man attacked him with his stick, and gave
him a sound blow; the cat, however, was more than
a match in the fight, for it flew, at him and tore his
face and hands so badly that the man at last took to his
heels and ran away as fast as he could.
"Now, it s time for my dinner," said the cat, going up
to examine the fish that was laid out on the tables.
"I hope the fish is good to-day. Now, don t disturb
me, nor make a fuss ; I can help myself." With that he
jumped up, and began to devour all the best fish, while
he growled at the woman.
"Away, out of this, you wicked beast/ she cried,
giving it a blow with the tongs that would have broken
its back, only it was a devil ; "out of this ; no fish shall
you have to-day."
But the cat only grinned at her, and went on tearing
and spoiling and devouring the fish, evidently not a
bit the worse for the blow. On this, bo h the women
attacked it with sticks, and struck hard blows enough
to kill it, on which the cat glared at them, and spit fire ;
then, making a leap, it tore their heads and arms till
the blood came, and the frightened women rushed shriek
ing from the house.
But presently the mistress returned, carrying with her
a bottle of holy water; and, looking in, she saw the
cat still devouring the fish, and not minding. So she
crept over quietly and threw holy water on it without
a word. No sooner was this done than a dense black
smoke filled the place, through which nothing was seen
but the two red eyes of the cat, burning like coals
of fire. Then the smoke gradually cleared away, and
she saw the body of the creature burning slowly till it
became shrivelled and black like a cinder, and finally
disappeared. And from that time the fish remained
untouched and safe from harm, for the power of the
evil one was broken, and the demon cat was seen no
more.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 247
THE LONG SPOON *
PATKICK KENNEDY
THE devil and the hearth-money collector for Bantry
set out one summer morning to decide a bet they made
the night before over a jug of punch. They wanted
to see which would have the best load at sunset, and
neither was to pick up anything that wasn t offered
with the good-will of the giver. They passed by a
house, and they heard the poor ban-a-t yee- 1 cry out to
her lazy daughter, "Oh, musha, - take you for a
lazy sthronsuchj of a girl ! do you intend to- get up to
day?" "Oh, oh," says the taxman, "there s a job for
you, Nick." "Ovock," says the other, "it wasn t from
her heart she said it ; we must pass on." The next cabin
they were passing, the woman was on the bawnditch
crying out to her husband that was mending one of
his brogues inside : "Oh, tattheration to you, Nick ! you
never rung them pigs, and there* they are in the potato
drills rootin away ; the run to Lusk with them/
"Another windfall for you," says the man of the ink-
horn, but the old thief only shook his horns and wagged
his tail. So they went on, and ever so many prizes
were offered to the black fellow without him taking
one. Here it was a gorsoon playing marvels when he
should be using his clappers in the- corn-field ; and then
it was a lazy drone of a servant asleep with his face to
the sod when he ought to be weeding. No one thought
of offering the hearth-money man even a drink of butter,
milk, and at last the sun was within half a foot of tha
edge of Cooliagh. They were just then passing Mona-
* Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts.
t Woman of the house.
J/r. strSinse i.e., a lazy thing.
Ir. Mdhun i.e., enclosure, or wall round a house. From
, cows, and dun, a fortress. Properly, cattle-fortress.
248 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
molin, and a poor woman that was straining her sup-
per in a skeeoge outside her cabin-door, seeing the
two standing at the bawn gate, bawled out, "Oh, here s
the hearth-money man run away wid him." "Got a
bite at last," says Nick. "Oh, no, no ! it wasn t from
her heart," says the collector. "Indeed, an it was
from the very foundation-stones it came. No help for
misfortunes; in with you," says he, opening the mouth
of his big black bag; and whether the devil was ever
after seen taking the same walk or not, nobody ever
laid eyes on his fellow-traveller again.
THE COUNTESS KATHLEEN O SHEA *
A VERY long time ago, there suddenly appeared in
old Ireland two unknown merchants of whom nobody
had ever heard, and who nevertheless spoke the lan
guage of the country with the greatest perfection. Their
locks were black, and bound round with gold, and their
garments were of rare magnificence.
Both seemed of like age; they appeared to be men
of fifty, for their foreheads were wrinkled and their
beards tinged with gray.
In the hostelry where the pompous traders alighted it
was sought to penetrate their designs; but in vain
they led a silent and retired life. And while they
stopped there, they did nothing but count over and over
again out of their money-bags pieces of gold, whose yel
low brightness could be seen through the windows of
their lodging.
"Gentlemen," said the landlady one day, "how is it
* This was quoted in a London-Irish newspaper. I am
unable to find out the original source.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 249
that you are so rich, and that, being able to succor
the public misery, you do no good works ?""
"Fair hostess/ replied one of them, "we didn t like
to present alms to the honest poor, in dread we might
be deceived by make-believe paupers. Let want knock
at our door, we. shall open it. 3
The following day, when the rumor spread that twc*
rich strangers had come, ready to* la-vish their gold, a
crowd besieged their dw&Lling; but the figures of those
who came out were, widely different. Some* carried
pride in their mien ; others were shamefaced.
The two chapmen traded in souls for the demon. The
soul of the aged was worth twenty pieces of gold, not
a penny more; for Satar had had time to make his
valuation. The soul of a matron was valued, at fifty,
when she was handsome, and a hundred when she was
ugly. The soul of a young maiden fetched an extrava
gant sum; the freshest and purest flowers are the
dearest.
At that time there lived in the city an angel of
beauty, the Countess Kathleen O Shea. She was the
idol of the people and the providence of the indigent.
As soon as she learned that these miscreants profited to
the public misery to steal away hearts from God, she
called to her butler.
"Patrick/ said she to him, "how many pieces of
gold in my coffers?"
"A hundred thousand."
"How many jewels?"
"The money s worth of the gold."
"How much property in castles, forests, and lands?"
"Double the rest."
"Very well, Patrick; sell all that is not gold; and
bring me the account. I only wish to keep this mansion
and the demesne that surrounds it."
Two days afterward the orders of the pious Kathleen
were executed, and the treasure was distributed to the
250 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
poor iii proportion to their wants. This, says the tradi
tion, did not suit the purposes of the Evil Spirit, who
found no more souls to purchase. Aided by an in
famous servant, they penetrated into the retreat of the
noble dame, and purloined from her the rest of her
treasure. In vain she struggled with all her strength
to save the contents of her coffers ; the diabolical thieves
were the stronger. If Kathleen had been able to make
the sign of the Cross, adds the legend, she would have
put them to flight, but her hands were captive. The
larceny was effected.
Then the poor called for aid to the plundered Kath
leen, alas, to no good; she was able to succor their
misery no longer; she had to abandon them to the
temptation.
Meanwhile, but eight days had to pass before the
grain and provender would arrive in abundance from
the western lands. Eight such days were an age. Eight
days required an immense, sum to relieve the exigencies
of the dearth, and the poor should either perish in the
agonies of hunger, or, denying the holy maxims of the
Gospel, vend, for base lucre, their souls, the richest gift
from the bounteous hand of the Almighty. And Kath
leen hadn t anything, for she had given up her mansion
to the unhappy. She passed twelve hours in tears and
mourning, rending her sun-tinted hair, and bruising
her breast, of the whiteness of the lily; afterward she
stood up, resolute, animated by a vivid sentiment of
despair.
She went to the traders in souls.
"What do you want ?" they said.
"You buy souls?"
"Yes, a few still, in spite of you. Isn t that so, saint,
with the eyes of sapphire?"
"To-day I am come to offer you a bargain," replied
she.
"What?"
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 251
"I have a soul to sell, but it is costly/
"What does that signify if it is precious? The soul,
like the diamond, is appraised by its transparency."
"It is mine/
The two emissaries of Satan started. Their claws
were clutched under their gloves of leather; their gray
eyes sparkled ; the soul, pure, spotless, virginal, of Kath
leen it was a priceless acquisition !
"Beauteous lady, how much do you ask?"
"A hundred and fifty thousand pieces of gold."
"It s at your service," replied the traders, and they
tendered Kathleen a parchment sealed with black, which
she signed with a shudder.
The sum was counted out to her.
As soon as she got home she said to the butler, "Here,
distribute this; with this money that I give you the
poor can tide over the eight days that remain, and not
one of their souls will be delivered to the demon."
Afterward she shut herself up in her room, and gave
orders that none should disturb her.
Three days passed; she called nobody, she did not
come out.
When the door was opened, they found her cold and
stiff ; she was dead of grief.
But the sale of this soul, so adorable in its charity,
was declared null by the Lord; for she had saved her
fellow-citizens from eternal death.
After the eight days had passed, numerous vessels
brought into famished Ireland immense provisions in
grain. Hunger was no longer possible. As to the trad
ers, they disappeared from their hotel without anyone
knowing what became of them. But the fishermen of
the Blackwater pretend that they are enchained in a
subterranean prison by order of Lucifer, until they
shall be able to render up the soul of Kathleen, which
escaped from them.
252 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
THE THEEE WISHES
W. CAELETON
IN ancient times there lived a man called Billy Daw-
son, and he was known to be a great rogue. They say
he was descended from the family of the Dawsons,
which was the reason, I suppose, of his carrying their
name upon him.
Billy, in his youthful days, was the best hand at
doing nothing in all Europe ; devil a mortal could come
next or near him at idleness; and, in consequence of
his great practice that way, you may be sure that if any
man could make a fortune by it he would have done it.
Billy was the only son of his father, barring two
daughters; but they have nothing to do with the story
I m telling you. Indeed it was kind father and grand
father for Billy to be handy at the knavery as well
as at the idleness; for it was well known that not one
of their blood ever did an honest act, except with a
roguish intention. In short, they were altogether a
dacent connection, and a credit to the name. As for
Billy, all the villainy of the family, both plain and orna
mental, came down to him by way of legacy; for it so
happened that the father, in spite of all his cleverness,
had nothing but his roguery to lave him.
Billy, to do him justice, improved the fortune he
got. Every day advanced him farther into dishonesty
and poverty, until, at the long run, he was acknowledged
on all hands to be the completest swindler and the poor
est vagabond in the whole parish.
Billy s father, in his young days, had often been
forced to acknowledge the inconvenience of not having
a trade, in consequence of some nice point in law,
called the "Vagrant Act/ that sometimes troubled him.
On this account he made up his mind to give Bill an
-occupation, and he accordingly bound him to a black-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 253
smith; but whether Bill was to live or die by forgery
was a puzzle to his father though the neighbors said
that loth was most likely. At all events, he was put
apprentice to a smith for seven years, and a hard card
his master had to play in managing him. He took the
proper method, however, for Bill was so lazy and roguish
that it would vex a saint to keep him in order.
"Bill," says his master to him one day that he had
been sunning himself about the ditches, instead of mind
ing his business, "Bill, my boy, I m vexed to the heart
to see you in such a bad state of health. You re very ill
with that complaint called an All-overness , however,"
says he, "I think I can cure you. Nothing will bring
you about but three or four sound doses every day of
a medicine called the oil o* the hazel. Take the first
dose now," says he; and he immediately banged him
with a hazel cudgel until Bill s bones ached for a week
afterward.
"If you were my son," said his master, "I tell you
that, as long as I could get a piece of advice growing
convenient in the hedges, I d have you a different youth
from what you are. If working was a sin, Bill, not
an innocenter boy ever broke bread than you would
be. Good people s scarce, you think; but however that
may be, I throw it out as a hint, that you must take
your medicine till you re cured, whenever you happen
to get unwell in the same way."
From this out he kept Bill s nose to the grinding-
stone; and whenever his complaint returned, he never
failed to give him a hearty dose for his improvement.
In the course of time, however, Bill was his own
man and his own master; but it would puzzle a saint
to know whether the master or the man was the more
precious youth in the eyes of the world.
He immediately married a wife, and devil a doubt
of it, but if lie kept her in whiskey and sugar, she kept
him in hot water. Bill drank and she drank; Bill
254: IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
fought and she fought; Bill was idle and she was idle;
Bill whacked her and she whacked Bill. If Bill gave
her one black eye, she gave him another; just to keep
herself in countenance. Never was there a blessed pair
so well met; and a beautiful sight it was to see them
both at breakfast-time, blinking at each other across the
potato-basket, Bill with his right eye black, and she
with her left.
In short, they were the talk of the whole town : and
to see Bill of a morning staggering home drunk, his
shirt sleeves rolled up on his smutted arms, his breast
open, and an old tattered leather apron, with one corner
tucked up under his belt, singing one minute, and fight
ing with his wife the next she, reeling beside him, with
a discolored eye, as aforesaid, a dirty ragged cap on one
side of her head, a pair of Bill s old slippers on her
feet, a squalling child on her arm now cuffing and
dragging Bill, and again kissing and hugging him!
Yes, it was a pleasant picture to see this loving pair in
such a state !
This might do for a while, but it could not last. They
were idle, drunken, and ill-conducted; and it was not
to be supposed that they would get a farthing candle on
their words. They were, of course, dliruv to great
straits ; and faith, they soon found that their fighting,
and drinking, and idleness made them the laughing-
sport of the neighbors ; but neither brought food to their
childkre, put a coat upon their backs, nor satisfied their
landlord when he came to look for his own. Still, the
never a one of Bill but was a funny fellow with strang
ers, though, as we said, the greatest rogue unhanged.
One day he was standing against his own anvil, com
pletely in a brown study being brought to his wit s end
how to make out a breakfast for the family. The wife
was scolding and cursing in the house, and the naked
creatures of childhre squalling about her knees for food.
Bill was fairly at an amplush, and knew not where or
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 255
how to turn himself, when a poor, withered old beggar
came into the forge, tottering on his staff. A long
white beard fell from his chin, and he looked as thin
and hungry that you might blow him, one would think,
over the house. Bill at this moment had been brought
to his senses by distress, and his heart had a touch
of pity toward the old man; for, on looking at him a
second time, he clearly saw starvation and sorrow in
his face.
"God save you, honest man !" said Bill.
The old man gave a sigh, and raising himself with
great pain, on his staff, he looked at Bill in a very be
seeching way.
"Musha, God save you kindly !" says he ; "maybe you
could give a poor, hungry, helpless ould man a mouth
ful of something to ait? You see yourself I m not able
to work ; if I was, I d scorn to be behoukling to anyone."
"Faith, honest man/ said Bill, "if you knew who
you re speaking to, you d as soon ask a monkey for a
churn-staff as me for either mate or money. There s
not a blackguard in the three kingdoms so fairly on
the shaughran as I am for both the one and the other.
The wife within is sending the curses thick and heavy
on me, and the childhre s playing the cat s melody to
keep her in comfort. Take my word for it, poor man,
if I had either mate or money I d help you, for I know
particularly well what it is to want them at the present
speaking; an empty sack won t stand, neighbor."
So far Bill told him truth. The good thought was
in his heart, because he found himself on a footing with
the beggar; and nothing brings down pride, or softens
the heart, like feeling what it is to want.
"Why, you are in a worse state than I am/ said the
old man ; "you have a family to provide for, and I have
only myself to support."
"You may kiss the book on that, my old worthy,"
replied Bill; "but come, what I can do for you I will;
256 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
plant yourself up here beside the fire, and Fll give it a
blast or two of my bellows that will warm the old blood
in your body. It s a cold, miserable, snowy day, and
a good heat will be of service/
"Thank you kindly/ said the old man; "I am cold,
and a warming at your fire will do me good, sure
enough. Oh, but it is a bitter, bitter day; God bless
it!"
He then sat down, and Bill blew a rousing blast that
soon made the stranger edge back from the heat. In
a short time he felt quite comfortable, and when the
numbness was taken out of his joints, he buttoned him
self up and prepared to depart.
"Now," says he to Bill, "you hadn t the food to give
me, but what you could you did. Ask any three wishes
you choose, and be they what they may, take my word
for it, they shall be granted."
Now, the truth is, that Bill, though he believed him
self a great man in point of cuteness, wanted, after
all, a full quarter of being square; for there is always
a great difference between a wise man and a knave.
Bill was so much of a rogue that he could not, for the
blood of him, ask an honest wish, but stood scratching
his head in a puzzle.
"Three wishes !" said he. "Why, let me see did you
say three?"
"Ay," replied the stranger, "three wishes that was
what I said."
"Well," said Bill, "here goes aha ! let me alone, my
old worthy ! faith I ll overreach the parish, if what you
say is true. I ll cheat them in dozens, rich and poor, old
and young: let me alone, man I have it here;" and
he tapped his forehead with great glee. "Faith, you re
the sort to meet of a frosty morning, when a man wants
his breakfast; and I m sorry that I have neither money
nor credit to get a bottle of whiskey, that we might
take our morning together/
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 257
"Well, but let us hear the wishes/ said the old man ;
"my time is short, and I cannot stay much longer."
"Do you see this sledge-hammer ?" said Bill ; "I wish,
in the first place, that whoever takes it up in their hands
may never he able to lay it down till I give them lave;
and that whoever begins to sledge with it may never
stop sledging till it s my pleasure to release him.
"Secondly I have an arm-chair, and I wish that
whoever sits down in it may never rise out of it till
they have my consent.
"And, thirdly that whatever money I put into my
purse, nobody may have power to take it out of it but
myself \
"You devil s rip !" says the old man in a passion,
shaking his staff across Bill s nose, "why did you not
ask something that would sarve you both here and
hereafter? Sure it s as common as the market-cross,
that there s not & vagabone in his Majesty s dominions
stands more in need of both."
"Oh I by the elevens," said Bill, "I forgot that alto
gether ! Maybe you d be civil enough to let me change
one of them? The sorra purtier wish ever was made
than I ll make, if only you ll give me another chance
at it."
"Get out, you reprobate," said the old fellow, still in
a passion. "Your day of grace is past. Little you
knew who was speaking to you all this time. I m
St. Moroky, you blackguard, and I gave you an oppor
tunity of doing something for yourself and your fam
ily; but you neglected it, and now your fate is cast,
you dirty, bog-trotting profligate. Sure, it s well known
what you are! Aren t you a by-word in everybody s
mouth, you and your scold of a wife? By this and by
that, if ever you happen to come across me again, I ll
send you to where you won t freeze, you villain !"
He then gave Bill a rap of his cudgel over the head,
and laid him at his length beside the bellows, kicked
258 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
a broken coal-scuttle out of his way, and left the forge
in a fury.
When Billy recovered himself from the effects of the
blow, and began to think on what had happened, he
could have quartered himself with vexation for not ask
ing great wealth as one of the wishes at least; but now
the die was cast on him, and he could only make the
most of the three he pitched upon.
He now bethought him how he might turn them to
the best account, and here his cunning came to his
aid. He began by sending for his wealthiest neighbors
on pretence of business; and when he got them under
his roof, he offered them the arm-chair to sit down in.
He now had them safe, nor could all the art of man
relieve them except worthy Bill was willing. Bill s
plan was to make the best bargain he could before he
released his prisoners; and let him alone for knowing
how to make their purses bleed. There wasn t a wealthy
man in the country he did not fleece. The parson of
the parish bled heavily; so did the lawyer; and a rich
attorney, who had retired from practice, swore that
the Court of Chancery itself was paradise compared to
Bill s chair.
This was all very good for a time. The fame of his
hair, however, soon spread; so did that of his sledge.
In a short time neither man, woman, nor child would
darken his door; all avoided him and his fixtures as
they would a spring-gun or man-trap. Bill, so long as
he fleeced his neighbors, never wrought a hand s turn;
so that when his money was out, he found himself as
badly off as ever. In addition to all this, his character
was fifty times worse than before; for it was the gen
eral belief that he had dealings with the old boy. Noth
ing now could exceed his misery, distress, and ill-tem
per. The wife and he and their children all fought
among one another. Everybody hated them, cursed
them, and avoided them. The people thought they were
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 259
acquainted with more than Christian people ousrht to
know. This, of course, came to Bill s ears, and it vexed
him very much.
One day he was walking about the fields, thinking of
how he could raise the wind once more; the day was
dark, and he found himself, before he stopped, in the
bottom of a lonely glen covered by great bushes that
grew on each side. "Well" thought he, when every
other means of raising money failed him, "it s reported
that I m in league with the old boy, and as it s a folly
to have the name of the connection without the profit,
I m ready to make a bargain with him any day; so,"
said he, raising his voice, "Nick, you sinner, if you
be convanient and willing, why stand out here; show
your best leg here s your man."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a dark,
sober-looking old gentleman, not unlike a lawyer, walked
up to him. Bill looked at the foot and saw the hoof.
"Morrow, Nick," says Bill.
"Morrow, Bill," says Nick. "Well, Bill, what s the
news?"
"Devil a much myself hears of late," says Bill; "itf
there anything fresh below?"
"I can t exactly say, Bill; I spend little of my time
down now ; the Tories are in office, and my hands are con
sequently too full of business here to pay much atten
tion to anything else."
"A fine place this, sir," says Bill, "to take a constitu
tional walk in; when I want an appetite I often come
this way myself hem ! High feeding is very bad with
out exercise."
"High feeding! Come, come, Bill, you know you
didn t taste a morsel these four-and-twenty hours."
"You know that s a bounce, Nick. I eat a breakfast
this morning that would put a stone of flesh on you, if
you only smelt at it."
"No matter ; this is not to the purpose. What s that
260 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
you were muttering to yourself awhile ago? If you
want to come to the brunt, here I m for you."
"Nick/ said Bill, "you re complate; you want noth
ing barring a pair of Brian O Lynn s breeches."
Bill, in fact, was bent on making his companion
open the bargain, because he had often heard that, in
that case, with proper care on his own part, he might
defeat him in the long run. The other, however, was
his match.
"What was the nature of Brian s garment?" inquired
Nick. "Why, you know the song," said Bill:
" Brian O Lynn had no breeches to wear,
So he got a sheep s skin for to make him a pair;
With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,
They ll be pleasant and cool, says Brian O Lynn.
"A cool pare would sarve you, Nick."
"You re mighty waggish to-day, Misther Dawson."
"And good right I have," said Bill ; "I m a man snug
and well to do in the world; have lots of money, plenty
of good eating and drinking, and what more need a
man wish for ?"
"True," said the other; "in the meantime it s rather
odd that so respectable a man should not have six inches
of unbroken cloth in his apparel. You re as naked a
tatterdemalion as I ever laid my eyes on; in full dress
for a party of scare-crows, William."
"That s my own fancy, Nick; I don t work at my
trade like a gentleman. This is my forge dress, you
know."
"Wei 1 , but what did you summon me here for ?" said
the other; "you may as well speak out, I tell you; for,
my good friend, unless you do, / shan t. Smell that."
"I smell more than that," said Bill ; "and by the way,
I ll thank you to give me the windy side of you curse
all sulphur, I say. There, that s what I call an im
provement in my condition. But as you are so stiff,"
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 261
says Bill, "why, the short and long of it is that hem
you see I m tut sure you know I have a thriving
trade of my own, and that if I like I needn t be at a
loss; but in the meantime Fm rather in a kind of a
so so don t you take ?"
And Bill winked knowingly, hoping to trick him into
the first proposal.
"You must speak above-board, my friend," says the
other. "I m a man of few words, blunt and honest. If
you have anything to say, be plain. Don t think I can
be losing my time with such a pitiful rascal as you are."
"Well," says Bill, "I want money, then, and am ready
to come into terms. What have you to say to that,
Nick?"
"Let me see let me look at you," says his companion,
turning him about. "Now, Bill, in the first place, are
you not as finished a scare-crow as ever stood upon two
legs?"
"I play second fiddle to you there again," says Bill.
"There you stand, with the blackguards coat of arms
quartered under your eye, and
"Don t make little of &M;guards," said Bill, "nor
spake disparagingly of your own crest."
"Why, what would you bring, you brazen rascal, if
you were fairly put up at auction?"
"Faith, I d bring more bidders than you would," said
Bill, "if you were to go off at auction to-morrow. I tell
you they should bid downwards to come to your value,
Nicholas. We have no coin small enough to purchase
you."
"Well, no matter," said Nick. "If you are willing to
be mine at the expiration of seven years, I will give you
more money than ever the rascally breed of you wa?
worth."
"Done!" said Bill; "but no disparagement to my
family, in the meantime; so down with the hard cash,
and don t be a neger"
2Q2 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The money was accordingly paid down ! but as nobody
was present, except the giver and receiver, the amount
of what Bill got was never known.
"Won t you give me a luck-penny?" said the old
gentleman.
"Tut," said Billy, "so prosperous an old fellow as you
cannot want it; however, bad luck to you, with all my
heart ! and it s rubbing grease to a fat pig to say so. Be
off now, or I ll commit suicide on you. Your absence
is a cordial to most people, you infernal old profligate.
You have injured my morals even for the short time you
have been with me; for I don t find myself so virtuous
as I was."
"Is that your gratitude, Billy?"
"Is it gratitude you speak of, man? I wonder you
don t blush when you name it. However, when you
come again, if you bring a third eye in your head you
will see what I mane, Nicholas, ahagur."
The old gentleman, as Bill spoke, hopped across the
ditch, on his way to Downing Street, where of late tis
thought he possesses much influence.
Bill now began by degrees to show off; but still
wrought a little at his trade to blindfold the neighbors.
In a very short time, however, he became a great man.
So long indeed as he was a poor rascal, no decent person
would speak to him ; even the proud serving-men at the
"Big House" would turn up their noses at him. And he
well deserved to be made little of by others, because he
was mean enough to make little of himself. But when
it was seen and known that he had oceans of money, it
was wonderful to think, although he was now a greater
blackguard than ever, how those who despised him be
fore began to come round him and court his company.
Bill, however, had neither sense nor spirit to make those
sunshiny friends know their distance; not he instead
of that he was proud to be seen in decent company, and
so long as the money lasted, it was, "hail fellow well
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 263
met/ between himself and every fair-faced spunger who
had a horse under him, a decent coat to his back, and a
good appetite to eat his dinners. With riches and all,
Bill was the same man still; but, somehow or other,
there is a great difference between a rich profligate and
a poor one, and Bill found it so to his cost in both cases.
Before half the seven years was passed, Bill had his
carriage, and his equipages; was hand and glove with
my Lord This, and my Lord That; kept hounds and
hunters ; was the first sportsman at the Curragh ; patron
ized every boxing ruffian he could pick up ; and betted
night and day on cards, dice, and horses. Bill, in short,
should be a blood, and except he did all this, he could
not presume to mingle with the fashionable bloods of
his time.
It s an old proverb, however, that "what is got over
the devil s back is sure to go off under it ;" and in Bill s
case this proved true. In short, the old boy himself
could not supply him with money so fast as he made
it fly; it was "come easy, go easy," with Bill, and so
sign was on it, before he came within two years of his
time he found his purse empty.
And now came the value of his summer friends to
be known. When it was discovered that the cash was
no longer flush with him that stud, and carriage, and
hounds were going to the hammer whish ! off they
went, friends, relations, pot-companions, dinner-eaters,
black-legs, and all, like a flock of crows that had smelt
gunpowder. Down Bill soon went, week after week, and
day after day, until at last he was obliged to put on the
leather apron, and take to the hammer again; and not
only that, for as no experience could make him wise, he
once more began his tap-room brawls, his quarrels with
Judy, and took to his "high feeding" at the dry pota
toes and salt. Now, too, came the cutting tongues of all
who knew him, like razors upon him. Those that he
scorned because they were poor and himself rich, now
264 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
paid him back his own with interest ; and those that he
5iad measured himself with,, because they were rich, and
who only countenanced him in consequence of his wealth,
gave him the hardest word in their cheeks. The devil
mend him ! He deserved it all, and more if he had
got it.
Bill, however, who was a hardened sinner, never
fretted himself down an ounce of flesh by what was said
to him, or of him. Not he ; he cursed, and fought, and
swore, and schemed away as usual, taking in every one
he could; and surely none could match him at villainy
of all sorts, and sizes.
At last the seven years became expired, and Bill was
one morning sitting in his forge, sober and hungry, the
wife cursing him, and the childhre squalling as before;
he was thinking how he might defraud some honest
neighbor out of a breakfast to stop their mouths and
his own, too, when who walks in to him but old Nick to
demand his bargain.
"Morrow, Bill I" says he with a sneer.
"The devil welcome you I" says Bill ; "but you have a
fresh memory."
"A bargain s a bargain between two honest men, any
day/ says Satan ; "when I speak of honest men, I mean
yourself and me, Bill;" and he put his tongue in his
cheek to make game of the unfortunate rogue he had
come for.
"Nick, my worthy fellow," said Bill, "have bowels;
you wouldn t do a shabby thing; you wouldn t dis
grace your own character by putting more weight upon
a falling man. You know what it is to get a come down
yourself, my worthy ; so just keep your toe in your pump,
and walk off with yourself somewhere else. A cool walk
will sarve you better than my company, Nicholas."
"Bill, it s no use in shirking," said his friend ; "your
swindling tricks may enable you to cheat others, but you
won t cheat me, I guess. You want nothing to make
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 265
you perfect in your way but to travel; and travel you
shall under my guidance, Billy. No, no I m not to be
swindled, my good fellow. I have rather a a better
opinion of myself, Mr. D., than to think that you could
outwit one Nicholas Clutie, Esq. ahem !"
"You may sneer, you sinner ," replied Bill; "but I
tell you that I have outwitted men who could buy and
sell you to your face. Despair, you villain, when I tell
you that no attorney could stand before me."
Satan s countenance got blank when he heard this;
he wriggled and fidgeted about, and appeared to be not
quite comfortable.
"In that case, then," says he, "the sooner I deceive you
the better; so turn out for the Low Countries."
"Is it come to that in earnest?" said Bill, "and
are you going to act the rascal at the long run ?"
"Ton honor, Bill."
"Have patience, then, you sinner, till I finish this
horse shoe it s the last of a set I m finishing for one
of your friend the attorney s horses. And here, Nick, I
hate idleness, you know it s the mother of mischief ; take
this sledge hammer, and give a dozen strokes or so, till
I get it out of hands, and then here s with you, since it
must be so."
He then gave the bellows a puff that blew half a peck
of dust in Club-foot s face, whipped out the red-hot
iron, and set Satan sledging away for bare life.
"Faith," says Bill to him, when the shoe was finished,
"it s a thousand pities ever the sledge should be out of
your hand ; the great Parr a Gow was a child to you at
sledging, you re such an able tyke. Now just exercise
yourself till I bid the wife and childhre good-bye, and
then I m off."
Out went Bill, of course, without the slightest notion
of coming back ; no more than Nick had that he could
not give up the sledging, and indeed neither could he,
but was forced to work away as if he was sledging for a
266 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
wager. This was just what Bill wanted. He was now
compelled to sledge on until it was Bill s pleasure to re
lease him; and so we leave him very industriously em
ployed, while we look after the worthy who outwitted
him.
In the meantime, Bill broke cover, and took to the
country at large ; wrought a little journey work wherever
he could get it, and in this way went from one place to
another, till, in the course of a month, he walked back
very coolly into his own forge, to see how things went on
in his absence. There he found Satan in a rage, the
perspiration pouring from him in torrents, hammering
with might and main upon the naked anvil. Bill calmly
leaned back against the wall, placed his hat upon the
eide of his head, put his hands into his breeches pockets,
and began to whistle Shaun Gow s hornpipe. At length
he says, in a very quiet and good-humored way:
"Morrow, Nick I"
"Oh !" says Nick, still hammering away : "Oh ! you
double-distilled villain (hech!), may the most refined,
ornamental (hech!), double-rectified, super-extra, and
original (hech!) collection of curses that ever was
gathered (hech!) into a single nosegay of ill-fortune
(hech!), shine in the button-hole of your conscience
(hech!) while your name is Bill Dawson! I denounce
you (hech!) as a double-milled villain, a finished, hot-
pressed knave (hech ! ) , in comparison of whom all the
other knaves I ever knew (hech!), attorneys included,
are honest men. I brand you (hech!) as the pearl of
cheats, a tip-top take-in (hech!). I denounce you, I
say again, for the villainous treatment (hech!) I have
received at your hands in this most untoward (hech!)
and unfortunate transaction between us; for (hech!)
nnfortunate, in every sense, is he that has anything to
do with (hech !) such a prime and finished impostor."
"You re very warm, Nicky," says Bill; "what puts
you into a passion, you old sinner? Sure if it s your
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 267
own will and pleasure to take exercise at my anvil, I m
not to be abused for it. Upon my credit, Nicky, you
ought to blush for using such blackguard language, so
unbecoming your grave character. You cannot say that
it was I set you a-hammering at the empty anvil, you
profligate.
"However, as you are so very industrious I simply
say it would be a thousand pities to take you from it.
Nick, I love industry in my heart, and I always encour
age it ; so work away, it s not often you spend your time
so creditably. I m afraid if you weren t at that you d be
worse employed."
"Bill, have bowels," said the operative ; "you wouldn t
go to lay more weight on a falling man, you know ; you
wouldn t disgrace your character by such a piece of
iniquity as keeping an inoffensive gentleman, advanced
in years, at such an unbecoming and rascally job as this.
Generosity s your top virtue, Bill; not but that you have
many other excellent ones, as well as that, among which,
as you say yourself, I reckon industry; but still it is in
generosity you sliine. Come, Bill, honor bright, and re
lease me."
"Name the terms, you profligate."
"You re above terms, William ; a generous fellow like
you never thinks of terms."
"Good-by, old gentleman !" said Bill, very coolly ; "I ll
drop in to see you once a month."
"No, no. Bill, you infern a a you excellent,
worthy, delightful fellow, not so fast ; not so fast. Come,
name your terms, you sland my dear Bill, name your
terms."
"Seven years more."
"I agree; but
"And the same supply of cash as before, down on the
nail here."
"Very good ; very good. You re rather simple, Bill ;
rather soft, I must confess. Well, no matter. I shall
268 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
yet turn the tab a hem ! You are an exceedingly
simple fellow, Bill; still there will come a day, my dear
Bill there will come "
"Do you grumble, you vagrant ? Another word, and I
double the terms."
"Mum, William mum ; tace is Latin for a candle."
"Seven years more of grace, and the same measure of
the needful that I got before. Ay or no ?"
"Of grace, Bill ! Ay ! ay ! ay ! There s the cash. I
accept the terms. Oh blood ! the rascal of grace ! 1
Bill !"
"Well, now drop the hammer, and vanish," says
Billy; "but what would you think to take this sledge,
while you stay, and give me a eh! why in such a
hurry ?" he added, seeing that Satan withdrew in double-
quick time.
"Hollo ! Nicholas !" he shouted, "come back ; you for
got something \" and when the old gentleman looked
behind him, Billy shook the hammer at him, on which
he vanished altogether.
Billy now got into his old courses; and what shows
the kind of people the world is made of, he also took
up with his old company. When they saw that he had
the money once more, and was sowing it about him in
all directions, they immediately began to find excuses
for his former extravagance.
"Say what you will," said one, "Bill Dawson s a
spirited fellow, that bleeds like a prince."
"He s a hospitable man in his own house, or out of it,
as ever lived," said another.
"His only fault is," observed a third, "that he is, if
anything, too generous, and doesn t know the value of
money ; his fault s on the right side, however."
"He has the spunk in him," said a fourth; "keeps a
capital table, prime wines, and a standing welcome for
his friends."
"Why," said a fifth, "if he doesn t enjoy his money
IRISH FAIRY ANL FOLK TALES 269
while he lives, he won t when he s dead ; so more power
to him, and a wider throat to his purse."
Indeed, the very persons who were cramming them
selves at his expense despised him at heart. They knew
very well, however, how to take him on the weak side.
Praise his generosity, and he would do anything; call
him a man of spirit, and }ou might fleece him to his
face. Sometimes he would toss a purse of guineas to
this knave, another to that flatterer, a third to a bully,
and a fourth to some broken-down rake and all to con
vince them that lie was a sterling friend a man of
mettle and liberality. But never was he known to help
a virtuous and struggling family to assist the widow
or the fatherless, or to do any other act that was truly
useful. It is to be supposed the reason of this was, that
as he spent it, as most of the world do, in the service
of the devil, by whose aid he got it, he was prevented
from turning it to a good account. Between you and
me, dear reader, there are more persons acting after
Bill s fashion in the same world than you dream about.
When his money was out again, his friends played
him the same rascally game once more. No sooner did
his poverty become plain, than the knaves began to be
troubled with small fits of modesty, such as an unwill
ingness to come to his place when there was no longer
anything to be got there. A kind of virgin bashfulness
prevented them from speaking to him when they saw
him getting out on the wrong side of his clothes. Many
of them would turn away from him in the prettiest and
most delicate manner when they thought he wanted to
borrow money from them all for fear of putting him to
the blush by asking it. Others again, when they saw
him coming toward their houses about dinner hour,
would become so confused, from mere gratitude, as to
think themselves in another place ; and their servants,
seized, as it were, with the same feeling, would tell Bill
that their masters were "not at home/ 9
270 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
At length, after travelling the same villainous round
as before, Bill was compelled to betake himself, as the
last remedy, to the forge ; in other words, he found that
there is, after all, nothing in this world that a man can
rely on so firmly and surely as his own industry. Bill,
however, wanted the organ of common sense; for his
experience and it was sharp enough to leave an im
pression ran off him like water off a duck.
He took to his employment sorely against his grain;
but* he had now no choice. He must either work or
starve, and starvation is like a great doctor nobody
tries it till every other remedy fails them. Bill had
been twice rich; twice a gentleman among blackguards,
but always a blackguard among gentlemen; for no
wealth or acquaintance with decent society could rub
the rust of his native vulgarity off him. He was now a
common blinking sot in his forge; a drunken bully in
the tap-room, cursing and brow-beating every one as well
as his wife; boasting of how much money he had spent
in his day ; swaggering about the high doings he carried
on; telling stories about himself and Lord This at the
Curragh ; the dinners he gave how much they cost him,
and attempting to extort credit upon the strength of
his former wealth. He was too ignorant, however, to
know that he was publishing his own disgrace, and that
it was a mean-spirited thing to be proud of what ought
to make him blush through a deal board nine inches
thick.
He was one morning industriously engaged in a quar
rel with his wife, who, with a three-legged stool in her
hand, appeared to mistake his head for his own anvil;
he, in the meantime, paid his addresses to her with his
leather apron, when who steps in to jog his memory
about the little agreement that was between them, but
Old Nick. The wife, it seems, in spite of all her exer
tions to the contrary, was getting the worst of it; and
Si- Nicholas, willing to appear a gentleman of great
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 271
gallantry, thought he could not do less than take up the
lady s quarrel, particularly as Bill had laid her in a
sleeping posture. Now Satan thought this too bad ; and
as he felt himself under many obligations to the sex, he
determined to defend one of them on the present occa
sion ; so as Judy rose, he turned upon her husband, and
floored him by a clever facer.
"You unmanly villain/ said he, "is this the way you
treat your wife? Pon honor, Bill, I ll chastise you on
the spot. I could not stand by, a spectator of such un-
gentlemanly conduct without giving up all claim to
gallant " Whack ! the word was divided in his
mouth by the blow of a churn-staff from Judy, who no
sooner saw Bill struck, than she nailed Satan, who "fell"
once more.
"What, you villain ! that s for striking my husband
like a murderer behind his back," said Judy, and she
suited the action to the word, "that s for interfering be
tween man and wife. Would you murder the poor man
before my face? eh? If he bates me, you shabby dog
you, who has a better right ? I m sure it s nothing out
of your pocket. Must you have your finger in every
pie?"
This was anything but idle talk; for at every word
she gave him a remembrance, hot and heavy. Nicholas
backed, danced, and hopped; she advanced, still drub
bing him with great perseverance, till at length he fell
into the redoubtable armchair, which stood exactly be
hind him. Bill, who had been putting in two blows for
Judy s one, seeing that his enemy was safe, now got
between the devil and his wife, a situation that few will
le disposed to envy him.
"Tenderness, Judy," said the husband, "I hate
cruelty. Go put the tongs in the fire, and make them
red hot. Nicholas, you have a nose," said he.
Satan be^an to rise, but was rather surprised to find
that he could not budge.
272 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Nicholas/ says Bill, "how is your pulse? you don t
look well; that is to say, you look worse than usual."
The other attempted to rise, but found it a mistake.
"I ll thank you to come along," said Bill. "I have a
fancy to travel under your guidance, and we ll take the
Low Countries in our way, won t we ? Get to your legs,
you sinner ; you know a bargain s a bargain between two
honest men, Nicholas ; meaning yourself and me. Judy,
are the tongs hot?"
Satan s face was worth looking at, as he turned his
eyes from the husband to the wife, and then fastened
them on the tongs, now nearly at a furnace heat in the
fire, conscious at the same time that he could not move
out of the chair.
"Billy," said he, "you won t forget that I rewarded
you generously the last time I saw you, in the way of
business." "Faith, Nicholas, it fails me to remember
any generosity I ever showed you. Don t be womanish.
I simply want to see what kind of stuff your nose is
made of, and whether it will stretch like a rogue s con
science. If it does, we will flatter it up the chimly with
red-hot tongs, and when this old hat is fixed on the top
of it, let us alone for a weather cock." "Have a fellow-
feeling., Mr. Dawson ; you know we ought not to dispute.
Drop the matter, and I give you the next seven years."
"We know all that," says Billy, opening the red-hot
tongs very coolly. "Mr. Dawson," said Satan, "if you
cannot remember my friendship to yourself, don t forget
how often I stood your father s friend, your grand
father s friend, and the friend of all your relations up
to the tenth generation. I intended, also, to stand by
your children after you, so long as the name of Dawson,
and a respectable one it is, might last." "Don t be
blushing, Nick," says Bill, "you are too modest; that
was ever your failing ; hould up your head, there s money
bid for you. I ll give you such a nose, my good friend, that
you will have to keep an outrider before you, to carry
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 273
the end of it 011 his shoulder/ "Mr. Dawson, I pledge
my honor to raise your children in the world as high
as they can go ; no matter whether they desire it or not.-"
"That s very kind of you/ says the other, "and I ll do
as much for your nose."
He gripped it as he spoke, and the old boy imme
diately sung out; Bill pulled, and the nose went with
him like a piece of warm wax. He then transferred the
tongs to Judy, got a ladder, resumed the tongs, ascended
the chimney, and tugged stoutly at the nose until he got
it five feet above the roof. He then fixed the hat upon
the top of it, and came down.
"There s a weather cock," said Billy ; "I defy Ireland
to show such a beauty. Faith, Nick, it would make the
purtiest steeple for a church, in all Europe, and the old
hat fits it to a shaving."
In this state, with his nose twisted up the chimney,
Satan sat for some time, experiencing the novelty of
what might be termed a peculiar sensation. At last the
worthy husband and wife began to relent.
"I think," said Bill, "that we have made the most of
the nose, as well as the joke; I believe, Judy, it s long
enough." "What is ?" says Judy.
"Why, the joke," said the husband.
"Faith, and I think so is the nose," said Judy.
"What do you say yourself, Satan ?" said Bill.
"Nothing at all, William," said the other; "but that
ha ! ha ! it s a good joke an excellent joke, and a
goodly nose, too, as it stands. You were always a
gentlemanly man, Bill, and did things with a grace;
still, if I might give an opinion on such a trifle
"It s no trifle at all," says Bill, "if you spake of the
nose." "Very well, it is not," says the other; "still, I
am decidedly of opinion, that if you could shorten both
the joke and the nose without further violence, you
would lay me under very heavy obligations, which I
shall be ready to acknowledge and repay as I ought."
274 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Come/ said Bill, "shell out once more., and be off for
seven years. As much as you came down with the last
time, and vanish."
The words were scarcely spoken, when the money was
at his feet, and Satan invisible. Nothing could surpass
the mirth of Bill and his wife at the result of this ad
venture. They laughed till they fell down on the floor.
It is useless to go over the same ground again. Bill
was still incorrigible. The money went as the devil s
money always goes. Bill caroused and squandered, but
could never turn a penny of it to a good purpose. In
this way, year after year went, till the seventh was
closed, and Bill s hour come. He was now, and had
been for some time past, as miserable a knave as ever.
Not a shilling had he, nor a shilling s worth, with the
exception of his forge, his cabin, and a few articles of
crazy furniture. In this state he was standing in his
forge as before, straining his ingenuity how to make out
a breakfast, when Satan came to look after hm. The
old gentleman was sorely puzzled how to get at him.
He kept skulking and sneaking about the forge for some
time, till he saw that Bill hadn t a cross to bless him
self with. He immediately changed himself into a
guinea, and lay in an open place where he knew Bill
would see him. "If," said he, "I once get into his pos
session, I can manage him." The honest smith took
the bait, for it was well gilded ; he clutched the guinea,
put it into his purse, and closed it up. "Ho ! ho !"
shouted the devil out of the purse, "you re caught, Bill;
I ve secured you at last, you knave you. Why don t you
despair, you villain, when you think of what s before
you ?" "Why, you unlucky ould dog," said Bill, "is it
there you are? Will you always drive your head into
every loophole that s set for you ? Faith, Nick achora, I
never had you bagged till now/
Satan then began to tug and struggle with a view
of getting out of the purse, but in vain.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 275
"Mr. Dawson," said he, "we understand each other.
I ll give the seven years additional, and the cash on the
nail." "Be aisey, Nicholas. You know the weight of
the hammer, that s enough. It s not a whipping with
feathers you re going to get, anyhow. Just be aisey."
"Mr. Dawson, I grant I m not your match. Eelease me,
and I double the cash. I was merely trying your tem
per when I took the shape of a guinea."
"Faith and I ll try yours before I lave it, I ve a
notion." He immediately commenced with the sledge,
and Satan sang out with a considerable want of firm
ness. "Am I heavy enough ?" said Bill.
"Lighter, lighter, William, if you love me. I haven t
been well latterly, Mr. Dawson I have been delicate
my health, in short, is in a very precarious state, Mr.
Dawson." "I can believe that" said Bill, "and it will
be more so before I have done with you. Am I doing it
right?" "Bill," said Nick, "is this gentlemanly treat
ment in your own respectable shop? Do you think, if
you dropped into my little place, that I d act this ras
cally part toward you? Have you no compunction?"
"I know," replied Bill, sledging away with vehemence,
"that you re notorious for giving your friends a warm
welcome. Divil an ould youth more so; but you must
be daling in bad coin, must you? However, good or
bad, you re in for a sweat now, you sinner. Am I doin
it purty?"
"Lovely, William but, if possible, a little more deli
cate."
"Oh, how delicate you are ! Maybe a cup o tay would
sarve you, or a little small gruel to compose your
stomach."
"Mr. Dawson," said the gentleman in the purse, "hold
your hand and let us understand one another. I have
a proposal to make." "Hear the sinner anyhow," said
the wife. "Name your own sum," said Satan, "only
set me free." "No, the sorra may take the toe you ll
276 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
budge till you let Bill off," said the wife; "hould him
hard, Bill, barrin he sets you clear of your engage
ment."
"There it is, my posy," said Bill; "that s the
condition. If you don t give me up, here s at you once
more and you must double the cash you gave the last
time, too. So, if you re of that opinion, say ay leave
the cash and be off."
The money again appeared in a glittering heap before
Bill, upon which he exclaimed "The ay has it, you dog.
Take to your pumps now, and fair weather after you,
you vagrant ; but Nicholas Nick here, here The
other looked back, and saw Bill, with a broad grin upon
him, shaking the purse at him. "Nicholas, come back,"
said he. "I m short a guinea." Nick shook his fist, and
disappeared.
It would be useless to stop now, merely to inform
our readers that Bill was beyond improvement. In short,
he once more took to his old habits, and lived on exactly
in the same manner as before. He had two sons one
as great a blackguard as himself, and who was also
named after him; the other was a well-conducted, vir
tuous young man, called James, who left his father, and
having relied upon his own industry and honest per
severance in life, arrived afterwards to great wealth, and
built the town called Castle Dawson; which is so called
from its founder until this day.
Bill, at length, in spite of all his wealth, was obliged,
as he himself said, "to travel," in other words, he fell
asleep one day, and forgot to awaken ; or in still plainer
terms, he died.
Now, it is usual, when a man dies, to close the his
tory of his life and adventures at once; but with our
hero this cannot be the case. The moment Bill departed,
he very naturally bent his steps toward the residence of
St. Moroky, as being, in his opinion, likely to lead him
toward the snuggest berth he could readily make out. On
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES .277
arriving, he gave a very humble kind of a knock, and St.
Moroky appeared.
"God save your Reverence I" said Bill, very submis
sively.
"Be off; there s no admittance here for so poor a
youth as you are/ said St. Moroky.
He was now so cold and fatigued that he cared little
where he went, provided only, as he said himself, "he
could rest his bones, and get an air of the fire/ Ac
cordingly, after arriving at a large black gate, he
knocked, as before, and was told he would get instant
admittance the moment he gave his name.
"Billy Dawson," he replied.
"Off, instantly," said the porter to his companions,
"and let his Majesty know that the rascal he dreads so
much is here at the gate."
Such a racket and tumult were never heard as the
very mention of Billy Dawson created.
In the meantime, his old acquaintance came running
toward the gate with such haste and consternation., that
his tail was several times nearly tripping up his heels.
"Don t admit that rascal," he shouted ; "bar the gate
make every chain, and lock and bolt, fast I won t be
safe and I won t stay here, nor none of us need stay
here, if he gets in my bones are sore yet after him.
No, no begone you villain you ll get no entrance here
I know you too well."
Bill could not help giving a broad, malicious grin at
Satan, and, putting his nose through the bars, he ex
claimed "Ha ! you ould dog, I have you afraid of me
at last, have I ?"
He had scarcely uttered the words, when his foe, who
stood inside, instantly tweaked him by the nose, and
Bill felt as if he had been gripped by the same red-hot
tongs with which he himself had formerly tweaked the
nose of Nicholas.
Bill then departed, but soon found that in conse-
278 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
quence of the inflammable materials which strong drink
had thrown into his nose, that organ immediately took
fire, and, indeed, to tell the truth, kept burning night
and day, winter and summer, without ever once going
out, from that hour to this.
Such was the sad fate of Billy Dawson, who has been
walking without stop or stay, from place to place, ever
since; and in consequence of the flame on his nose, and
his beard being tangled like a wisp of hay, he has been
christened by the country folk Will-o -the-Wisp, while,
as it were, to show the mischief of his disposition, the
circulating knave, knowing that he must seek the coldest
bogs and quagmires in order to cool his nose, seizes upon
that opportunity of misleading the unthinking and
tipsy night travellers from their way, just that he may
have the satisfaction of still taking in as many as
possible.
GIANTS
WHEN the pagan gods of Ireland the Tuath-De-Dandn
robbed of worship and offerings, grew smaller and smaller in
the popular imagination, until they turned into the fairies,
the pagan heroes grew bigger and bigger, until they turned
into the giants.
THE GIANT S STATES*
T. CROFTON CROKER
ON the road between Passage and Cork there is an
old mansion called Bonayne s Court. It may be easily
known from the stack of chimneys and the gable-ends,
which are to be seen, look at it which way you will.
Here it was that Maurice Eonayne and his wife Mar
garet Gould kept house, as may be learned to this day
from the great old chimney-piece, on which is carved
their arms. They were a mighty worthy couple, and had
but one son, who was called Philip, after no less a person
than the King of Spain.
Immediately on his smelling the cold air of this world
the child sneezed, which was naturally taken to be a
good sign of his having a clear head; and the subse
quent rapidity of his learning was truly amazing, for
on the very first day a primer was put into his hands
he tore out the A, B, C page and destroyed it, as a thing
quite beneath his notice. No wonder, then, that both
father and mother were proud of their heir, who gave
* Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland.
380 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
such indisputable proofs of genius, or, as they called it
in that part of the world, "genus."
One morning, however, Master Phil, who was then
just seven years old, was missing, and no one could tell
what had become of him; servants were sent in all di
rections to seek him, on horseback and on foot, but
they returned without any tidings of the boy, whose
disappearance altogether was most unaccountable. A
large reward was offered, but it produced them no intel
ligence, and years rolled away without Mr. and Mrs.
Eonayne having obtained a-ny satisfactory account of
ther fate of their lost child.
There- lived at this time, near Carrigaline, one Robert
Kelly, a blacksmith by trade. He was what is termed a
handy man, and his abilities were held in much estima
tion by the lads and lasses of the neighborhood; for,
independent of shoeing horses, which he did to great
perfection, and making plough irons, he interpreted
dreams for the young women, sung "Arthur O Bradley"
at their weddings, and was so good-natured a fellow at
a christening, that he was gossip to half the country
round.
Now it happened that Robin had a dream himself,
and young Philip Roiiayne- appeared to him in it, at the
dead hour of the night. Robin thought he saw the boy
mounted upon a beautiful white horse, and that he told
him how he was made a page to the giant Mahoii Mac-
Mahon, who had carried him off, and who held his court
in the hard heart of the rock. "The seven years my
time of service are clean out, Robin," said he, "and if
you release me this night I will be the making of you
for ever after."
"And how will I know," said Robin cunning enough,
even in his sleep "but this is all a dream ?"
"Take that," said the boy, "for a token" and at the
word the white horse struck out with one of his hind
legs, and gave poor Robin such a kick in the forehead
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 281
that, thinking he was a dead man, he roared as loud as
he could after his brains, and woke up, calling a thou
sand murders. He found himself in bed, but he had the
mark of the blow, the regular print of a horseshoe, upon
his forehead as red as blood; and Eobin Kelly, who
never before found himself puzzled at the dream of any
other person, did not know what to think of his own.
Robin was well acquainted with the Giant s Stairs
as, indeed, who is not that knows the harbor? They
consist of great masses of rock, which, piled one above
another, rise like a flight of steps from very deep water,
against the bold cliff of Carrigmahon. Nor are they
badly suited for stairs to those who have legs of suf
ficient length to stride over a moderate-sized house, or
to enable them to clear the space of a mile in a hop,
step and jump. Both these feats the giant MacMahon
was said to have performed in the days of Finnian glorv ;
and the common tradition of the country placed his
dwelling* within, the cliff up whose side the stairs led.
Such was the impression which the dream made on
Robin, that he determined to put its truth to the test.
It occurred to him, however, before setting out on this
adventure, thai a plough iron may be no bad companion,
as, from experience, he knew it was an excellent knock
down argument, having on more occasions than one
settled a* little disagreement very quietly; so, putting
one on his shoulder, off he marched, in the cool of the
evening, through Glaun a Thowk (the Hawk s Glen) to
Monkstown. Here an old gossip of his (Tom Clancey
by name) lived, who, on hearing Robin s dream, prom
ised him the use of his skiff, and, moreover, offered to
assist in rowing it to the Giant s Stairs.
After a supper, which was of the best, they embarked.
It was a beautiful, still night, and the little boat glided
swiftly along. The regular dip of the oars, the dis
tant song of the sailor, and sometimes the voice of a be
lated traveller at the ferry of Carrigaloe, alone broke the
282 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
quietness of the land and sea and sky. The tide was in
their favor, and in a few minutes Robin and his gossip
rested on- their oars under the dark shadow of the
Giant s Stairs. Robin looked anxiously for the entrance
to the Giant s palace, which, it was said, may be found
by any one seeking it at midnight ; but no such entrance
could he see. His impatience had hurried him there be
fore that time, and after waiting a considerable space in
a state of suspense not to be described, Robin, with pure
vexation, could not help exclaiming to his companion,,
" Tis a pair of fools we are, Tom Clancey, for coming
here at all on the strength of a dream."
"And whose doing is it," said Tom, "but your own ?"
At the moment he spoke they perceived a faint glim
mering of light to proceed from the cliff, which gradu
ally increased until a porch big enough for a king s
palace unfolded itself almost on a level with the water.
They pulled the skiff directly toward the opening, and
Robin Kelly, seizing his plough iron, boldly entered with
a strong hand and a stout heart. Wild and strange was
that entrance, the whole of which appeared formed of
grim and grotesque faces, blending so strangely each
with the other that it was impossible to define any : the
chin of one formed the nose of another; what appeared
to be a fixed and stern eye, if dwelt upon, changed to a
gaping mouth; and the lines of the lofty forehead grew
into a majestic and flowing beard. The more Robin
allowed himself to contemplate the forms around him,
the more terrific they became; and the stoney expres
sion of this crowd of faces assumed a savage ferocity as
his imagination converted feature after feature into a
different shape and character. Losing the twilight in
which these indefinite forms were visible, he advanced
through a dark and devious passage, while a deep and
rumbling noise sounded as if the rock was about to close
upon him, and swallow him up alive for ever. Now,
indeed, poor Robin felt afraid.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 283
"Robin, Robin/ said he, "if you were a fool for coming
here, what in the name of fortune are you now ?" But,
as before, he had scarcely spoken, when he saw a small
light twinkling through the darkness of the distance,
like a star in the midnight sky. To retreat was out of
the question; for so many turnings and windings were
in the passage, that he considered he had but little
chance of making his way back. He, therefore, pro
ceeded towards the bit of light, and came at last into a
spacious chamber, from the roof of which hung the soli
tary lamp that had guided him. Emerging from such
profound gloom, the single lamp afforded Robin abun
dant light to discover several gigantic figures seated
round a massive stone table, as if in serious deliberation,
but no word disturbed the breathless silence which pre
vailed. At the head of this table sat Mahon MacMahon
himself, whose majestic beard had taken root, and in the
course of ages grown into the stone slab. He was the
first who perceived Robin; and instantly starting up,
drew his long beard from out the huge piece of rock in
such haste and with so sudden a jerk that it was shat
tered into a thousand pieces.
"What seek you?" he demanded in a voice of tnun-
der.
"I come/ 3 answered Robin, with as much boldness as
he could put on, for his heart was almost fainting within
him; "I come/ said he, "to claim Philip Ronayne,
whose time of service is out this night/
"And who sent you here ?" said the giant.
" Twas of my own accord I came," said Robin.
"Then you must single him out from among my
pages," said the giant; "and if you fix on the wrong
one, your life is the forfeit. Follow me." He led Robin
into a hall of vast extent, and filled with lights ; along
either side of which were rows of beautiful children, all
apparently seven years old, and none beyond that age,
dressed in green, and every one exactly dressed alike.
384 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"Here," said Mahon, "you are free to take Philip
Ronayne, if you will; but, remember, I give but one
choice."
Kobin was sadly perplexed; for there were hundreds
upon hundreds of children; and he had no very clear
recollection of the boy he sought. But he walked along
the hall, by the side of Mahon, as if nothing was the
matter, although his great iron dress clanked fearfully
at every step, sounding louder than Robin s own sledge
battering on his anvil.
They had nearly reached the end without speaking,
when Robin, seeing that the only means he had was to
make friends with the giant, determined to try what ef
fect a few soft words might have.
" Tis a fine wholesome appearance the poor children
carry/ remarked Robin, "although they have been here
so long shut out from the fresh air and the blessed light
of heaven. Tis tenderly your honor must have reared
them !"
"Ay/ said the giant, "that is true for you; so give
me your hand; for you are, I believe, a very honest fel
low for a blacksmith/
Robin at the first look did not much like the huge
size of the hand, and, therefore, presented his plough
iron, which the giant seizing, twisted in his grasp round
and round again as if it had been a potato stalk. On
seeing this all the children set up a shout of laughter.
In the midst of their mirth Robin thought he heard his
name called ; and all ear and eye, he put his hand on the
boy who he fancied had spoken, crying out at the same
time, "Let me live or die for it, but this is young Phil
Ronayne."
"It is Philip Ronayne happy Philip Ronayne/ said
his young companions; and in an instant the hall be
came dark. Crashing noises were heard, and all was in
strange confusion; but Robin held fast his prize, and
found himself lying in the gray dawn of the morning at
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 285
the head of the Giant s Stairs with the boy clasped in
his arms.
Robin had plenty of gossips to spread the story of
his wonderful adventure: Passage, Monkstown, Car-
rigaline the whole barony of Kerricurrihy rung with it.
"Are you quite sure, Eobin, it is young Phil Ronayne
you have brought back witli you?" was the regular
question; for although the boy had been seven years
away, his appearance now was just the same as on the
day he was missed. He had neither grown taller nor
older in look, and he spoke of things which had hap
pened before he was carried off as one awakened from
sleep, or as if they had occurred yesterday.
"Am I sure? Well, that s a queer question," was
Robin s reply; "seeing the boy has the blue eye of the
mother, with the foxy hair of the father ; to say nothing
of the purty wart on the right side of his little nose."
However Robin Kelly may have been questioned, the
worthy couple of Ronayne s Court doubted not that he
was the deliverer of their child from the power of the
giant MacMahon ; and the reward they bestowed on him
equalled their gratitude.
Philip Ronayne lived to be an old man; and he was
remarkable to the day of his death for his skill in work
ing in brass and iron, which it was believed he had
learned during his seven years apprenticeship to the
giant Mahon MacMahon.
A LEGEND OF KISTOCKMANY
WILLIAM CAKLETOIST
WHAT Irish man, woman, or child has not heard of
our renowned Hibernian Hercules, the great and glori
ous Fin M Coul? Not one, from Cape Clear to the
Giant s Causeway, nor from that back again to Cape
i 86 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Clear. And, by-the-way, speaking of the Giant s Cause
way brings me at once to the beginning of my story.
Well, it so happened that Fin and his gigantic relatives
were all working at the Causeway, in order to make a
bridge, or what was still better, a good stout pad-road,
across to Scotland ; when Fin, who was very fond of his
wife Oonagh, took it into his head that he would go
home and see how the poor woman got on in his absence.
To be sure, Fin was a true Irishman, and so the sorrow
thing in life brought him back, only to see that she was
snug and comfortable, and, above all things, that she
got her rest well at night; for he knew that the poor
woman, when he was with her, used to be subject to
nightly qualms and configurations, that kept him very
anxious, decent man, striving to keep her up to the good
spirits and health that she had when they were first mar
ried. So, accordingly, he pulled up a fir tree, and, after
lopping off the roots and branches, made a walking-stick
of it, and set out on his way to Oonagh.
Oonagh, or rather Fin, lived at this time on the very
tip-top of Knockmany Hill, which faces a cousin of its
own called Cullamore, that rises up, half-hill, half-
mountain, on the opposite side east-east by south, as
the sailors say, when they wish to puzzle a landsman.
Now, the truth is, for it must come out, that honest
Fin s affection for his wife, though cordial enough in
itself, was by no manner of means the real cause of his
journey home. There was at that time another giant,
named Cucullin some say he was Irish, and some say he
was Scotch but whether Scotch or Irish, sorrow doubt
of it, but he was a larger. No other giant of the day
could stand before him ; and such was his strength, that,
when well vexed, he could give a stamp that shook the
country about him. The fame and name of him went
far and near ; and nothing in the shape of a man, it was
said, had any chance with him in a fight. Whether the
story is true or not, I cannot say, but the report went
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 287
that, by one blow of his fists he flattened a thunderbolt
and kept it in his pocket, in the shape of a pancake, to
show to all his enemies, when they were about to fight
him. Undoubtedly he had given every giant in Ireland
a considerable beating, barring Fin M Coul himself ; and
he swore, by the solemn contents of Moll Kelly s
Primer, that he would never rest, night or day, winter
or summer, till he would serve Fin with the same sauce,
if he could catch him. Fin, however, who no doubt
was the cock of the walk on his own dunghill, had a
strong disinclination to meet a giant who could make
a young earthquake, or flatten a thunderbolt when he was
angry ; so he accordingly kept dodging about from place
to place, not much to his credit as a Trojan, to be sure,
whenever he happened to get the hard word that
Cucullin was on the scent of him. This, then, was the
marrow of the whole movement, although he put it on
his anxiety to see Oonagh; and I am not saying but
there was some truth in that too. However, the short
and long of it was, with reverence be it spoken, that he
heard Cucullin was coming to the Causeway to have a
trial of strength with him ; and he was naturally enough
seized, in consequence, with a very warm and sudden
fit of affection for his wife, poor woman, who was deli
cate in her health, and leading, besides, a very lonely,
uncomfortable life of it (he assured them) in his ab
sence. He accordingly pulled up the fir-tree as I said
before and having snedded it into a walking-stick, set
out on his affectionate travels to see his darling Oonagh
on the top of Knockmany, by the way.
In truth, to state the suspicions of the country at the
time, the people wondered very much why it was that
Fin selected such a windy spot for his dwelling-house,
and they even went so far as to tell him as much.
"What can you mane, Mr. M Coul," said they, "by
pitching your tent upon the top of Knockmany, where
you never are without a breeze, day or night, winter or
288 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
summer, and where you re often forced to take your
nightcap * without either going to bed or turning up
your little finger; ay, an where, besides this, there s
the sorrow s own want of water ?"
"Why," said Fin, "ever since I was the height of a
round tower, I was known to be fond of having a good
prospect of my own; and where the dickens, neighbors,
could I find a better spot for a good prospect than the
top of Knockmany? As for water I am sinking a
pump,f and, plase goodness, as soon as the Causeway s
made, I intend to finish it."
Now, this was more of Fin s philosophy; for the real
state of the case was, that he pitched upon the top of
Knockmany in order that he might be able to see Cu-
cullin coming toward the house, and, of course, that he
himself might go to look after his distant transactions
in other parts of the country, rather than but no mat
ter we do not wish to be too hard on Fin. All we
have to say is, that if he wanted a spot from which to
keep a sharp look-out and, between ourselves, he did
want it grievously barring Slieve Croob, or Slieve
Donard, or its own cousin, Cullamore, he could not find
a neater or more convenient situation for it in the
sweet and sagacious province of Ulster.
"God save all here !" said Fin, good-humoredly, on
putting his honest face into his own door.
"Musha, Fin, avick, an you re welcome home to your
own Oonagh, you darliri bully." Here followed a smack
that is said to have made the waters of the lake at
the bottom of the hill curl, as it were, with kindness
and sympathy.
"Faith," said Fin, "beautiful; an how are you,
* A common name for the cloud or rack that hangs, as a
forerunner of wet weather, about the peak of a mountain.
t There is upon the top of this hill an opening that bears
a very strong resemblance to the crater of an extinct vol
cano.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 289
Oonagh and how did you sport your figure during my
absence, my bilberry ?"
"Never a merrier as bouncing a grass widow as ever
there was in sweet Tyrone among the bushes/ y
Fin gave a short, good-humored cough, and laughed
most heartily, to show her how much he was delighted
that she made herself happy in his absence.
"An* what brought you home so soon, Fin?" said
she.
"Why, avourneen," said Fin, putting in his answer in
the proper way, "never the thing but the purest of love
and affection for yourself. Sure you know that s truth,
anyhow, Oonagh."
Fin spent two or three happy days with Oonagh, and
felt himself very comfortable, considering the dread he
had of Cucullin. This, however, grew upon him so much
that his wife could not but perceive something lay on his
mind which he kept altogether to himself. Let a woman
alone, in the meantime, for ferreting or wheedling a
secret out of her good man, when she wishes. Fin was
a proof of this.
"It s this Cucullin," said he, "that s troubling me.
When the fellow gets angry, and begins to stamp, he ll
shake you a whole townland; and it s well known that
he can stop a thunderbolt, for he always carries one
about him in the shape of a pancake, to show to anyone
that might misdoubt it."
As he spoke, he clapped his thumb in his mouth,
which he always did when he wanted to prophesy, or to
know anything that happened in his absence; and the
wife, who knew what he did it for, said, very sweetly :
"Fin, darling, I hope you don t bite your thumb at
me, dear?"
"No," said Fin; "but I bite my thumb, acushla,"
sai:i he.
"Yes, jewel; but take care and don t draw blood/ 3
said she. "Ah, Fin ! don t, my bully don t."
290 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"He s coming/ said Fin; "I see him below Dun-
gannon."
"Thank goodness, dear ! an who is it, avick ? Glory
be to God I"
"That baste, Cucullin," replied Fin; "and how to
manage I don t know. If I run away, I am disgraced;
and I know that sooner or later I must meet him, for
my thumb tells me so."
"When will he be here?" said she.
"To-morrow, about two o clock," replied Fin, with a
groan.
"Well, my bully, don t be cast down," said Oonagh;
"depend on me, and maybe I ll bring you better out of
this scrape than ever you could bring yourself, by your
rule o thumb."
This quieted Fin s heart very much, for he knew that
Oonagh was hand and glove with the fairies; and, in
deed, to tell the truth, she was supposed to be a fairy
herself. If she was, hoAvever, she must have been a kind-
hearted one, for, by all accounts, she never did anything
but good in the neighborhood.
Now it so happened that Oonagh had a sister named
Granua, living opposite them, on the very top of Culla-
more, which I have mentioned already, and this Granua
was quite as powerful as herself. The beautiful valley
that lies between them is not more than about three
or four miles broad, so that of a summer s evening, Gra
nua and Oonagh were able to hold many an agreeable
conversation across it, from the one hill-top to the other.
Upon this occasion Oonagh resolved to consult her sis
ter as to what was best to be done in the difficulty that
surrounded them.
"Granua," said she, "are you at home ?"
"No," said the other; "I m picking bilberries in Al-
thadhawan" (Anglice, the Devil s Glen).
"Well," said Oonagh, "get up to the top of Cnlla-
more, look about you, and then tell us what you see/"
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 291
"Very well," replied Granua ; after a few minutes, "I
am there now."
"What do you see ?" asked the other.
"Goodness be about us !" exclaimed Granua, "I see
the biggest giant that ever was known coming up from
Dungannon."
"Ay," said Oonagh, "there s our difficulty. Thai
giant is the great Cucullin; and he s now comin up
to leather Fin. What s to be done ?"
"I ll call to him," she replied, "to come up to Culla-
more and refresh himself, and maybe that will give you
and Fin time to think of some plan to get yourselves
out of the scrape. But," she proceeded, "I m short of
butter, having in the house only half-a-dozen firkins,
and as I m to have a few giants and giantesses to spend
the evenin with me, I d feel thankful, Oonagh, if you d
throw me up fifteen or sixteen tubs, or the largest mis-
caun you have got, and you ll oblige me very much.
"I ll do that with a heart and a-half ," replied Oonagh ;
"and, indeed, Granua, I feel myself under great obliga
tions to you for your kindness in keeping him off of us
till we see what can be done ; for what would become of
us all if anything happened Fin, poor man?"
She accordingly got the largest miscaun of butter
she had which might be about the weight of a couple
a dozen mill-stones, so that you may easily judge of
its size and calling up to her sister, "Granua," said
she, "are you ready? I m going to throw you up a
miscaun, so be prepared to catch it."
"I will," said the other ; "a good throw now, and take
care it does not fall short."
Oonasfh threw it; but, in consequence of her anxiety
about Fin and Cucullin, she forgot to say the charm
that was to send it up, so that, instead of reaching Cul-
lamore, as she expected, it fell about half-way between
the two hills, at the edge of the Broad Bog near Augher.
"My curse upon you !" she exclaimed ; "you ve dis-
292 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
graced me. I now change you into a gray stone. Lie
there as a testimony of what has happened; and may
evil betide the first living man that will ever attempt
to remove or injure you!"
And, sure enough, there it lies to this day, with the
mark of the four fingers and thumb imprinted in it,
exactly as it came out of her hand.
"Never mind," said Granua, "I must only do the best
I can with Cucullin. If all fail, I ll give him a cast of
heather broth to keep the wind out of his stomach, or
a panada of oak-bark to draw it in a bit; but, above
all things, think of some plan to get Fin out of the
scrape he s in, otherwise he s a lost man. You know
you used to be sharp and ready-witted; and my own
opinion, Oonagh, is, that it will go hard with you, or
you ll outdo Cucullin yet."
She then made a high smoke on the top of the hill,
after which she put her finger in her mouth, and ga-ve
three whistles, and by that Cucullin knew he was in
vited to Cullamore for this was the way that the Irish
long ago gave a sign to all strangers and travellers, to
let them know they were welcome to come and take share
of whatever was going.
In the meantime, Fin was very melancholy, and did
not know what to do, or how to act at all. Cucullin
was an ugly customer, no doubt, to meet with; and,
moreover, the idea of the confounded "cake" aforesaid
flattened the very heart within him. What chance could
he have, strong and brave though he was, with a man
who could, when put in a passion, walk the country
into earthquakes and knock thunderbolts into pancakes ?
The thing was impossible; and Fin knew not on what
hand to turn him. Eight or left backward or for
ward where to go he could form no guess whatsoever.
"Oonagh," said he, "can you do nothing for me?
Where s all your invention? Am I to be skivered like
a rabbit before your eyes, and to have my 013 me dis-
{RISE FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 293
graced forever in the sight of all my tribe, and me the
best man among them? How am I to fight this man-
mountain this huge cross between an earthquake and
a thunderbolt? with a pancake in his pocket that was
once
"Be easy, Fin," replied Oonagh ; "troth, I m ashamed
of you. Keep your toe in your pump, will you? Talk
ing of pancakes maybe we ll give him as good as any he
brings with him thunderbolt or otherwise. If I don t
treat him to as smart feeding as he s got this many a
day, never trust Oonagh again. Leave him to me, and
do just as I bid you."
This relieved Fin very much; for, after all, he had
great confidence in his wife, knowing, as he did, that
sne had got him out of many a quandary before. The
present, however, was the greatest of all; but still he
began to get courage, and was able to eat his victuals
as usual. Oonagh then drew the nine woollen thrtads
of different colors, which she always did to find out
the best way of succeeding in anything of importance
she went about. She then platted them into three plats
with three colors in each, putting one on her right arm,
one round her heart, and the third round her right
ankle, for then she knew that nothing could fail with
her that she undertook.
Having everything now prepared, she sent round to
the neighbors and borrowed one-and-twenty iron griddles,
which she took and kneaded into the hearts of .one-and-
twenty cakes of bread, and these she baked on the fire
in the usual way, setting them aside in the cupboard
according as they were done. She then put down a
large poi of new milk, which she made into curds and
whey, and gave Fin due instructions how to use the
curds when Cucullin should c"ome. Having done all
this, she sat down quite contented, waiting for his ar
rival on the next day about two o clock, that being
the hour at which he was expected for Fin knew as
294 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
much by the sucking of his thumb. Now, this was a
curious property that Fin s thumb had; but, notwith
standing all the wisdom and logic he used to suck out
of it, it could never have stood to him here were it not
for the wit of his wife. In this very thing, moreover,
h,e was very much resembled by his great foe, Cucullin ;
for it was well known that the huge strength he pos
sessed all lay in the middle finger of his right hand,
and that, if he happened by any mischance to lose it, he
was no more, notwithstanding his bulk, than a com
mon man.
At length, the next day, he was seen coming across
the valley, and Oonagh knew that it was time to com
mence operations. She immediately made the cradle,
and desired Fin to lie down in it, and cover himself up
with the clothes.
"You must pass for your own child," said she; "so
just lie there snug, and say nothing, but be guided by
me." This, to be sure, was wormwood to Fin I mean
going into the cradle in such a cowardly manner but
he knew Oonagh well; and finding that he had nothing
else for it, with a very rueful face he gathered himself
into it, and lay snug, as she had desired him.
About two o clock, as he had been expected, Cucul
lin came in. "God save all here!" said he; "is this
where the great Fin M Coul lives?"
"Indeed it is, honest man," replied Oonagh; "God
save you kindly won t you be sitting ?"
"Thank you, ma am," says he, sitting down; "you re
Mrs. M Coul, I suppose?"
"I am," said she; "and I have no reason, I hope, to
be ashamed of my husband."
"No," said the other, "he has the name of being
the strongest and bravest man in Ireland; but for all
that, there s a man not far from you that s very desir
ous of taking a shake with him. Is he at home?"
, then, no," she replied ; "and if ever a man left
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 295
his house in a fury, he did. It appears that some one
told him of a big basthoon of a giant called Cucullin
being down at the Causeway to look for him, and so he
set out there to try if he could catch him. Troth, I
hope, for the poor giant s sake, he won t meet with him.,
for if he does, Fin will make paste of him at once."
"Well," said the other, "I am Cucullin, and I have
been seeking him these twelve months, but he always
kept clear of me ; and I will never rest night or day till
I lay my hands on him."
At this Oonagh set up a loud laugh, of great con
tempt, by the way, and looked at him as if he was
only a mere handful of a man.
"Did you ever see Fin ?" said she, changing her man
ner all at once.
"How could I ?" said he ; "he always took care to
keep his distance."
"I thought so," she replied ; "I judged as much ; and
if you take my advice, you poor-looking creature, you ll
pray night and day that you may never see him, for I
tell you it will be a black day for you when you do,
But, in the meantime, you perceive that the wind s or*
the door, and as Fin himself is from home, maybe you d
be civil enough to turn the house, for it s always what
Fin does when he s here."
This was a startler even to Cucullin; but he got up,
however, and after pulling the middle finger of his right
hand until it cracked three times, he went outside, and
getting his arms about the house, completely turned
it as she had wished. When Fin saw this, he felt a
certain description of moisture, which shall be name
less, oozing out through every pore of his skin; but
Oonagh, depending upon her woman s wit, felt not a
whit daunted.
"Arrah, then," said she, "as you are so civil, maybe
you d do another obliging turn for us, as Fin s not here
to do it himself. You see. after this long stretch of dr.v
296 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
weather we ve had, we feel very badly off for want of
water. Now, Fin says there s a fine spring-well some
where under the rocks behind the hill here below, and it
was his intention to pull them asunder; but having
heard of you, he left the place in such a fury, that he
never thought of it. Now, if you try to find it, troth
I d feel it a kindness."
She then brought Cucullin down to see the place,
which was then all one solid rock; and, after looking
at it for some time, he cracked his right middle finger
nine times, and, stooping down, tore a cleft about four
hundred feet deep, and a quarter of a mile in length,
which has since been christened by the name of Lum-
ford s Glen. This feat nearly threw Oonagh herself off
her guard; but what won t a woman s sagacity and
presence of mind accomplish ?
"You ll now come in," said she, "and eat a bit of
such humble fare as we can give you. Fin, even al
though he and you are enemies, would scorn not to treat
you kindly in his own house; and, indeed, if I didn t
do it even in his absence, he would not be pleased
with me."
She accordingly brought him in, and placing half-a-
dozen of the cakes we spoke of before him, together with
a can or two of butter, a side of boiled bacon, and a
stack of cabbage, she desired him to help himself for
this, be it known, was long before the invention of po
tatoes. Cucullin, who, by the way, was a glutton as
well as a hero, put one of the cakes in his mouth to
take a huge whack out of it, when both Fin and Oonagh
were stunned with a noise that resembled something
between a growl and a yell. "Blood and fury !" he
shouted; "how is this? Here are two of my teeth
out ! What kind of bread is this you gave me ?"
"What s the matter ?" said Oonagh coolly.
"Matter !" shouted the other again ; "why, here are the
two best teeth in my head gone."
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 297
"Why," said she, "that s Fin s bread the only bread
he ev r er eats when at home; but, indeed, I forgot to tell
you that nobody can eat it but himself, and that child
in the cradle there. I thought, however, that, as you
were reported to be rather a stout little fellow of your
size, you might be able to manage it, and I did not wish
to affront a man that thinks himself able to fight
Fin. Here s another cake maybe it s not so hard as
that."
Cucullin at the moment was not only hungry, but
ravenous, so he accordingly made a fresh set at the sec
ond cake, and immediately another yell was heard twice
as loud as the first. "Thunder and giblets !" he roared,
"take your bread out of this, or I will not have a tooth
in my head ; there s another pair of them gone !"
"Well, honest man," replied Oonagh, "if you re not
able to eat the bread, say so quietly, and don t be wak
ening the child in the cradle there. There, now, he s
awake upon me."
Fin now gave a skirl that startled the giant, as com
ing from such a youngster as he was represented to be.
"Mother," said he, "I m hungry get me something to
eat." Oonagh went over, and putting into his hand a
cake that had no griddle in it , Fin, whose appetite in
the meantime was sharpened by what he saw going for
ward, soon made it disappear. Cucullin was thunder
struck, and secretly thanked his stars that he had the
good fortune to miss meeting Fin, for, as he said to
himself, I d have no chance with a man who could eat
such bread as that, which even his son that s but in his
cradle can munch before my eyes.
"I d like to take a glimpse at the lad in the cradle,"
said he to Oonagh; "for I can tell you that the infant
who can manage that nutriment is no joke to look at,
or to feed of a scarce summer."
"With all the veins of my heart," 1 replied Oonagh;
"get up, acushla, and show this decent little man some*
98 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
thing that won t be unworthy of your father, Fin
M Coul."
Fin, who was dressed for the occasion as much like
3, boy as possible, got up, and bringing Cucullin out,
"Are you strong ?" said he.
"Thunder an ounds!" exclaimed the other, "what a
voice in so small a chap \"
"Are you strong?" said Fin again; "are you able to
squeeze water out of that white stone?" he asked, put
ting one into Cucullin s hand. The latter squeezed and
squeezed the stone, but to no purpose; he might pull
the rock of Lumford s Glen asunder, and flatten a thun
derbolt, but to squeeze water out of a white stone was
beyond his strength. Fin eyed him with great con-
Tempt, as he kept straining and squeezing and squeezing
and straining, till he got black in the face with the
erforts.
"Ah, you re a poor creature I" said Fin. "You a
giant! Give me the stone here, and when I ll show
what Fin s little son can do, you may then judge of
what my daddy himself is."
Fin then took the stone, and slyly exchanging it for
the curds, he squeezed the latter until the whey, as
clear as water, oozed out in a little shower from his
hand.
"I ll now go in," said he, "to my cradle ; for I scorn
to lose my time with any one that s not able to eat my
daddy s bread, or squeeze water out of a stone. Bedad,
you had better be off out of this before he comes back;
for if he catches you, it s in flummery he d have you in
two minutes."
Cucullin, seeing what he had seen, was of the same
opinion himself,- his knees knocked together with the
terror of Fin s return, and he accordingly hastened in
to bid Oonagh farewell, and to assure her, that from that
day out, he never wished to hear of, much less to see,
her husband. "I admit fairly that I m not a match for.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 299
/ said he, "strong as I am; tell him I will avoid
him as I would the plague, and that I will make myself
scarce in this part of the country while I live."
Fin, in the meantime, had gone into the cradle, where
he lay very quietly, his heart at his mouth with delight
that Cucullin was about to take his departure, without
discovering the tricks that had been played off on him.
"It s well for you/ said Oonagh, "that he doesn t hap
pen to be here, for it s nothing but hawk s meat he d
make of you."
"I know that," says Cucullin; "divil a thing else
he d make of me ; but before I go, will you let me feel
what kind of teeth they are that can eat griddle-bread
like that?" and he pointed to it as he spoke.
"With all pleasure in life," said she ; "only, as they re
far back in his head, you must put your finger a good
way in."
Cucullin was surprised to find such a powerful set
of grinders in one so young; but he was still much
more so on finding, when he took his hand from Fin ti
mouth, that he had left the very finger upon which his
whole strength depended, behind him. He gave one loud
groan, and fell down at once with terror and weakness.
This was all Fin wanted, who now knew that his most
powerful and bitterest enemy was completely at his
mercy. He instantly started out of the cradle, and in
a few minutes the great Cucullin, that was for such a
length of time the terror of him and all his followers,
lay a corpse before him. Thus did Fin, through the
wit and invention of Oonagh, his wife, succeed in over
coming his enemy by stratagem, which he never could
have done by force : and thus also is it proved that the
women, if they bring us into many an unpleasant scrape,
can sometimes succeed in getting us out of others that
are as bad.
KINGS, QUEENS, PRINCESSES,
EARLS, ROBBERS
THE TWELVE WILD GEESE *
PATRICK KENNEDY
THERE was once a. King and Queen that lived very
happily together, and they had twelve sons and not a
single daughter. We are always wishing for what we
haven t, and don t care for what we have, and so it was
with the Queen. One day in winter, when the bawn
was covered with snow, she was looking out of the parlor
window, and saw there a calf that was just killed by the
butcher, and a raven standing near it. "Oh," says she,
"if I had only a daughter with her skin as white as that
snow, her cheeks as red as that blood, and her hair as
black as that raven, I d give away every one of my
twelve sons for her." The moment she said the word,
she got a great fright, and a shiver went through her,
and in an instant after, a severe-looking old woman
stood before her. "That was a wicked wish you made,"
said she, "and to punish you it will be granted. You
will have such a daughter as you desire, but the very
day of her birth you will lose your other children." She
vanished the moment she said the words.
And that very way it turned out. When she ex
pected her delivery, she had her children all in a large
room of the palace, with guards all round it, but the
very hour her daughter came into the world, the guards
* The Fireside Stories of Ireland (Gill & Son, Dublin).
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 301
inside and outside heard a great whirling and whistling,
and the twelve princes were seen flying one after an
other out through the open window, and away like so
many arrows over the woods. Well, the king was in
great grief for the loss of his sons, and he would be
very enraged with his wife if he only knew that she was
so much to blame for it.
Everyone called the little princess Snow-white-and-
Eose-red on account of her beautiful complexion. She
was the most loving and lovable child that could be
seen anywhere. When she was twelve years old she
began to be very sad and lonely, and to torment her
mother, asking her about her brothers that she thought
were dead, for none up to that time ever told her the
exact thing that happened them. The secret was weigh
ing very heavy on the Queen s conscience, and as the
little girl persevered in her questions, at last she told
her. "Well, mother," said she, "it was on my account
my poor brothers were changed into wild geese, and are
now suffering all sorts of hardship ; before the world is
a day older, I ll be off to seek them, and try to restore
them to their own shapes/
The King and Queen had her well watched, but all
was no use. Next night she was getting through the
woods that surrounded the palace, and she went on and
on that night, and till the evening of next day. She had
a few cakes with her, and she got nuts, and mugoreens
(fruit of the sweet briar), and some sweet crabs, as she
went along. At last she came to a nice wooden house
just at sunset. There was a fine garden round it, full
of the handsomest flowers, and a gate in the hedge. She
went in, and saw a table laid out with twelve plates,
and twelve knives and forks, and twelve spoons, and
there were cakes, and cold wild fowl, and fruit along
with the plates, and there was a good fire, and in an
other long room there were twelve beds. Well, while
she was looking about her she heard the gate opening,
b02 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
and footsteps along the walk, and in came twelve young
men,, and there was great grief and surprise on all
their faces when they laid eyes on her. "Oh, what mis
fortune sent you here ?" said the eldest. "For the sake
of a girl we were obliged to leave our father s court, and
be in the shape of wild geese all day. That s twelve
years ago, and we took a solemn oath that we would kill
the first young girl that came into our hands. It s a
pity to put such an innocent and handsome girl as you
are out of the world, but we must keep our oath."
"But," said she, "I m your only sister, that never knew
anything about this till yesterday ; and I stole away from
our father s and mother s palace last night to find you
out and relieve you if I can." Every one of them
clasped his hands, and. looked down on the floor, and
you could hear a pin fall till the eldest cried out, "A
curse light on our oath ! What shall we do ?" "I ll tell
you that," said an old woman that appeared at the in
stant among them. "Break your wicked oath, which no
one should keep. If you attempted to lay an uncivil
finger on her I d change you into twelve booliaun buis
(stalks of ragweed), but I wish well to you as well as
to her. She is appointed to be your deliverer in this
way. She must spin and knit twelve shirts for you out
of bog-down, to be gathered by her own hands on the
moor just outside of the wood. It will take her five
years to do it, and if she once speaks, or laughs, or
cries the whole time, you will have to remain wild geese
by day till you re called out of the world. So take care
of your sister ; it is worth your while." The fairy then
vanished, and it was only a strife with the brothers to
see who would be first to kiss and hug their sister.
So for three long years the poor young princess was
occupied pulling bog-down, spinning it, and knitting it
into shirts, and at the end of the three years she had
eight made. During all that time, she never spoke a
word, nor laughed, nor cried : the last was the hardest
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 303
to refrain from. One fine day she was sitting in the
garden spinning, when in sprung a fine grayhound and
bounded up to her, and laid his paws on her shoulder,
and licked her forehead and her hair. The next minute
a beautiful young prince rode up to the little garden
gate, took of? his hat, and asked for leave to come in.
She gave him a little nod, and in he walked. He made
ever so many apologies for intruding, and asked her
ever so many questions, but not a word could he get out
of her. He loved her so much from the first moment,
that he could not leave her till he told her he was
king of a country just bordering on the forest, and he
begged her to come home with him, and be his wife.
She couldn t help loving him as much as he did her,
and though she shook her head very often, and was
very sorry to leave her brothers, at last she nodded
her head, and put her hand in his. She knew well
enough that the good fairy and her brothers would be
able to find her out. Before she went she brought out
a basket holding all her bog-down, and another holding
the eight shirts. The attendants took charge of these,
and the prince placed her before him on his horse. The
only thing that disturbed him while riding along was
the displeasure his stepmother would feel at what he
had done. However, he was full master at home, and
as soon as he arrived he sent for the bishop, got his bride
nicely dressed, and the marriage was celebrated, the
bride answering by signs. He knew by her manners
she was of high birth, and no two could be fonder of
each other.
The wicked stepmother did all she could to make
mischief, saying she was sure she was only a woodman s
daughter; but nothing could disturb the young king s
opinion of his wife. In good time the young queen
was delivered of a beautiful boy, and the king was so
glad he hardly knew what to do for joy. All the gran
deur of the christening and the happiness of the parents
304: -IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
tormented the bad woman more than I can tell you,
and she determined to put a stop to all their comfort.
She got a sleeping posset given to the young mother,
and while she was thinking and thinking how she could
best make away with the child, she saw a wicked-looking
wolf in the garden, looking up at her, and licking his
chops. She lost no time, but snatched the child from
the arms of the sleeping woman, and pitched it out.
The beast caught it in his mouth, and was over the
garden fence in a minute. The wicked woman then
pricked her own fingers, and dabbed the blood round
the mouth of the sleeping mother.
Well, the young king was just then coming into the
big bawn from hunting, and as soon as he entered the
house, she beckoned to him, shed a few crocodile tears,
began to cry and wring her hands and hurried him
along the passage to the bedchamber.
Oh, wasn t the poor king frightened when he saw
the queen s mouth bloody, and missed his child? It
would take two hours to tell you the devilment of the
old queen, the confusion and fright, and grief of the
young king and queen, the bad opinion he began to feel
of his wife, and the struggle she had to keep down
her bitter sorrow, and not give way to it by speaking
or lamenting. The young king would not allow any
one to be called, and ordered his stepmother to give
out that the child fell from the mother s arms at the
window, and that a wild beast ran off with it. The
wicked woman pretended to do so, but she told under
hand to everybody she spoke to what the king and her
self saw in the bed-chamber.
The young queen was the most unhappy woman in
the three kingdoms for a long time, between sorrow
for her child, and her husband s bad opinion; still she
neither spoke nor cried, and she gathered bog-down
and went on with the shirts. Often the twelve wild
geese would be seen lighting on the trees in the park
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 305
or on the smooth sod, and looking in at her windows.
So she worked on to get the shirts finished, but an
other year was at an end, and she had the twelfth shirt
finished except one arm, when she was obliged to take
to her bed, and a beautiful girl was born.
Now the king was on his guard, and he would not
let the mother and child be left alone for a minute;
but the wicked woman bribed some of the attendants,
set others asleep, gave the sleepy posset to the queen,
and had a person watching to snatch the child away,
and kill it. But what should she see but the same
wolf in the garden looking up, and licking his chops
again ? Out went the child, and away with it flew the
wolf, and she smeared the sleeping mother s mouth and
face with blood, and then roared, and bawled, and cried
out to the king and to everybody she met, and the
room was filled, and everyone was sure the young queen
had just devoured her own babe.
The poor mother thought now her life would leave
her. She was in such a state she could neither think
nor pray, but she sat like a stone, and worked away
at the arm of the twelfth shirt.
The king was for taking her to the house in the wood
where he found her, but the stepmother, and the lords
of the court, and the judges would not hear of it, and
she was condemned to be burned in the big bawn at
three o clock the same day. When the hour drew near,
the king went to the farthest part of his palace, and
there was no more unhappy man in his kingdom at that
hour.
When the executioners came and led her off, she took
the pile of shirts in her arms. There was still a few
stitches wanted, and while they were tying her to the
stake she still worked on. At the last stitch she seemed
overcome and dropped a tear on her work, but the mo
ment after she sprang up, and shouted out, "I am inno
cent ; call my husband !" The executioners stayed their
306 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
hands, except one wicked-disposed creature, who set fire
to the faggot next him, and while all were struck in
amaze, there was a rushing of wings, and in a moment
the twelve wild geese were standing around the pile.
Before you could count twelve, she flung a shirt over
each bird, and there in the twinkling of an eye were
twelve of the finest young men that could be collected
out of a thousand. While some were untying their sis
ter, the eldest, taking a strong stake in his hand, struck
the busy executioner such a blow that he never needed
another.
While they were comforting the young queen, and the
king was hurrying to the spot, a fine-looking woman ap
peared among them holding the babe on one arm and
the little prince by the hand. There was nothing but
crying for joy, and laughing for joy, and hugging and
kissing, and when any one had time to thank the good
fairy, who in the shape of a wolf, carried the child away,
she was not to be found. Never was such happiness
enjoyed in any palace that ever was built, and if the
wicked queen and her helpers were not torn by wild
horses, they richly deserved it.
THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS
PATKICK KENNEDY S "FIRESIDE STOKIES OF IRELAND"
THERE was once a poor widow woman, who had a
daughter that was as handsome as the day, and as lazy
as a pig, saving your presence. The poor mother was
the most -industrious person in the townland, and was
a particularly good hand at the spinning-wheel. It was
the wish of her heart that her daughter should be as
handy as herself; but she d get up late, eat her break
fast before she d finish her prayers, and then go about
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 307
dawdling, and anything she handled seemed to be burn
ing her fingers. She drawled her words as if it was
a great trouble to her to speak, or as if her tongue
was as lazy as her body. Many a heart-scald her poor
mother got with her, and still she was only improving
like dead fowl in August.
Well, one morning that things were as bad as they
could be, and the poor woman was giving tongue at
the rate of a mill-clapper, who should be riding by but
the king s son. "Oh dear, oh dear, good woman !"
said he, "you must have a very bad child to make you
scold so terribly. Sure it can t be this handsome girl
that vexed you !" "Oh, please your Majesty, not at
all," says the old dissembler. "I was only checking her
for working herself too much. Would your majesty be
lieve it ? She spins three pounds of flax in a day, weaves
it into linen the next, and makes it all into shirts the
day after." "My gracious," says the prince, "she s the
very lady that will just fill my mother s eye, and her
self s the greatest spinner in the kingdom. Will you put
on your daughter s bonnet and cloak, if you please,
ma am, and set her behind me ? Why, my mother will
be so delighted with her, that perhaps she ll make her
her daughter-in-law in a week, that is, if the young
woman herself is agreeable."
Well, between the confusion, and the joy, and the fear
of being found out, the women didn t know what to
do; and before they could make up their minds, young
Anty (Anastasia) was set behind the prince, and away
he and his attendants went, and a g(jpd; heavy purse
was left behind with the mother. She-^UUlued a long
time after all was gone, in dread of something bad hap
pening to the poor girl.
The prince couldn t judge of the girl s breeding or
wit from the few answers he pulled out of her. The
queen was struck in a heap when she saw a young coun
try girl sitting behind her son, but when she saw her
308 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
handsome face., and heard all she could do, she didn t
think she could make too much of her. The prince,
took an opportunity of whispering her that if she4ti&i )j 1
dsjeet to be his wife she must strive to please his mother.
Well, the evening went by, and the prince and Anty
were getting fonder and fonder Q one another, but the
thought of the spinning u^ecT io send the cold to her
hear,t every moment. When bed-time came, the old
queen went along with her to a beautiful bedroom, and
when she was bidding her good-night, she pointed to a
heap of fine flax, and said, "You may begin as soon as
you like to-morrow morning, and I ll expect to see these
three pounds in nice thread the morning after/ Little
did the poor girl sleep that night. She kept crying
and lamenting that she didn t mind her mother s ad
vice better. When she was left alone next morning,
she began with a heavy heart ; and though she had a nice
mahogany wheel and the finest flax you ever saw, the
thread was breaking every moment. One while it was
as fine as a cobweb, and the next as coarse as a little
boy s whipcord. At last she pushed her chair back, let
her hands fall in her lap, and burst out a-crying.
A small, old woman with surprising big feet appeared
"before her at the same moment, and said, "What ails
you, you handsome colleen?" "An haven t I all that
flax to spin before to-morrow morning, and I ll never be
able to have even five yards of fine thread of it put to
gether." "An would you think bad to ask poor Col-
liach Cushmtfre (Old Woman Big-foot) to your wedding
with the young prince? If you promise me that, all
your three* pounds will be* made into the finest of thread
while you re taking your sleep to-night." "Indeed, you
must be there and welcome, and I ll honor you all the
days of your life." "Very well; stay in your room till
tea-time, and tell the queen she may come in for her
thread as early as she likes to-morrow morning." It
was all as she said ; and the thread was finer and evener
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 309
than the gut you see with fly-fishers. **My brave girl
you were !" says the queen. "I ll get my own mahogany
loom brought into you, but you needn t do anything
more to-day. Work and rest, work and rest, is my mot
to. To-morrow you ll weave all this thread, and who
knows what may happen ?"
The poor girl was more frightened this time than
the last, and she was so afraid to lose the prince. She
didn t even know how to put the warp in the gears, nor
how to use the shuttle, and she was sitting in the great
est grief, when a little woman, who was mighty well-
shouldered about the hips, all at once appeared to her,
told her her name was ^^^^^^ C ^C^ and made
the same bargain with her as Colliach Cushmor. Great
was the queen s pleasure when she found early in the
morning a web as fine and white as the finest paper you
ever saw. "The darling you were!" says she. "Take
your ease with the ladies and gentlemen to-day, and if
you have all this made into nice shirts to-morrow you
may present one of them to my son, and be married
to him out of hand."
Oh, wouldn t you pity poor Anty the next day, she
was now so near the prince, and, maybe, would be soon
so far from him. But she waited as patiently as she
could with scissors, needle, and thread in hand, till
a minute after noon. Then she was rejoiced to see the
third old woman appear. She had a big red nose,
and informed Anty that people called her Shron Mor
Rua on that account. She was up to her as good as
the others, for a dozen fine shirts were lying on the table
when the queen paid &e| an early visit.
Now there was nothing talked of but the wedding,
and I needn t tell you it was grand. The poor mother
was there along with the rest, and at the dinner the
old queen could talk of nothing but the lovely shirts,
and how happy herself and the bride would be after
the honeymoon, spinning, and weaving, and sewing
310 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK T LES
shirts and shifts without end. The bridegroom didn t
like the discourse,, and the bride liked it less, and he
was going to say something, when the footman came up
to the head of the table and said to the bride, "Your
ladyship s auntf Colliacfe* tlushmo^ fiacfe me ask might
she come in." The bride blushed and wished she was
seven miles under the floor, but well became the prince.
"Tell Mrs. Cushmor," said he, "that any relation of my
bride s will be always heartily welcome wherever she
and I are." In came the woman with the big foot, and
got a seat near the prince. The old queen didn t like
it much, and after a few words she asked rather spite
fully, "Dear ma am, what s the reason your foot is so
big?" "Huslia, faith, your majesty, I was standing
almost all my life at the spinning-wheel, and that s the
reason." "I declare to you, my darling," said the prince,
"I ll never allow you to spend one hour at the same
spinning-wheel."^ The same footman said again, "Your
ladyship s aunt, "Colliach Cromaiimor, wishes to come" in,
if the genteels and yourself have no objection." Very
sharoose (displeased) was Princess Anty, but the prince
sent her welcome, and she took her seat, and drank
healths apiece to the company. "May I ask, ma am?"
says the old queen, "why you re so wide half-way be
tween the head and the feet?" "That, your majesty, is
owing to sitting all my life at the loom." "By my scep
ter," says the prince, "my wife shall never sit there an
hour." xj The footman , again came up. "Your ladyship s
aunt, Colliach Shron Mor Rua, is asking leave to come
into the banquet." More blushing on the bride s face^
but the bridegroom spoke out cordially, "Tell Mrs.
Shron Mor Rua she s doing us an honor." In came
the old woman, and great respect she got near the
top of the table, but the people down low put up their
tumblers and glasses to their noses to hide the grins.
"Ma am," says the old queen, "will you tell us, if you
please, why your nose is so big and red?" "Throth,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 311
your majesty, my head was bent down over the stitch
ing all my life, and all the blood in my body ran into
my nose." "My darling/ said the prince to Anty,
"if ever I see a needle in your hand, Fll run a hundred
miles from you."
"And in troth, girls and boys, though it s a diverting
story, I don t think the moral is good; and if any of
you tJiuckeens go about imitating Anty in her laziness,
you ll find it won t thrive with you as it did with her.
She was beautiful beyond compare, which none of you
are, and she had three powerful fairies to help her be
sides. There s no fairies now, and no prince or lord to
ride by, and catch you idling or working; and maybe,
after all, the prince and herself were not so very happy
when the cares of the world or old age came on them."
Thus was the tale ended by poor old Shebale (Sy-
billa), Father Murphy s housekeeper, in Coolbawn-
Barony of Bantry, about half a century since.
THE HAUGHTY PEINCESS *
BY PATRICK KENNEDY
THERE was once a very worthy king, whose daughter
was the greatest beauty that could be seen far or near,
but she was as proud as Lucifer, and no king or prince
would she agree to marry. Her father was tired out at
last, and invited every king, and prince, and duke, and
earl that he knew or didn t know to come to his court to
give her one trial more. They all came, and next day
after breakfast they stood in a row in the lawn, ano!
the princess walked along in the front of them to make
her choice. One was fat, and says she, "I won t have
*Fireside Stories of Ireland.
312 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
you, Beer-barrel!" One was tall and thin, and to him
she said, "I won t have you, Ramrod!" To a white-
faced man she said, "I won t have you, Pale Death;"
and to a red-cheeked man she said, "I won t have you,
Cockscomb !" She stopped a little before the last of all,
for he was a fine man in face and form. She wanted
to find some defect in him, but he had nothing remark
able but a ring of brown curling hair under his chin.
She admired him a little, and then carried it off with,
"I won t have you, Whiskers !"
So all went away, and the king was so vexed, he said
to her, "Now to punish your impedence, I ll give you
to the first beggarman or singing sthronshuch that
calls;" and, as sure as the hearth-money, a fellow all
over rags, and hair that came to his shoulders, and a
bushy red beard all over his face, came next morning,
and began to sing before the parlor window.
When the song was over, the hall-door was opened,
the singer asked in, the priest brought, and the princess
married to Beard y. She roared and she bawled, but her
father didn t mind her. "There," says he to the bride
groom, "is five guineas for you. Take your wife out of
my sight, and never let me lay eyes on you or her
again."
Off he led her, and dismal enough she was. The only
thing that gave her relief was the tones of her hus
band s voice and his genteel manners. "Whose wood is
this?" said she, as they were going through one. "It
belongs to the king you called Whiskers yesterday." He
gave her the same answer about meadows and corn
fields, and at last a fine city. "Ah, what a fool I was !"
said she to herself. "He was a fine man, and I might
have him for a husband." At last they were coming
up to a poor cabin. "Why are you bringing me here?"
says the poor lady. "This was my house," said he, "and
now it s yours." She began to cry, but she was tired
and hungry, and she went in with him.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 313
Ovoch ! there was neither a table laid out, nor a fire
burning, and she was obliged to help her husband to
light it, and boil their dinner, and clean up the place
after; and next day he made her put on a stuff gown
and a cotton handkerchief. When she had her house
readied up, and no business to keep her employed, he
brought home sallies [willows], peeled them, and showed
her how to make baskets. But the hard twigs bruised
her delicate fingers, and she began to cry. Well, then
he asked her to mend their clothes, but the needle drew
blood from her fingers, and she cried again. He
couldn t bear to see her tears, so he bought a creel of
earthenware, and sent her to the market to sell them.
This was the hardest trial of all, but she looked so
handsome and sorrowful, and had such a nice air about
her, that all her pans, and jugs, and plates, and dishes
were gone before noon, and the only mark of her old
pride she showed was a slap she gave a buckeen across
the face when he axed her to go in an take share of a
quart.
Well, her husband was so glad, he sent her with an
other creel the next day ; but faith ! her luck was after
deserting her. A drunken huntsman came up riding,
and his beast got in among her ware, and made brishe
of every mother s son of em. She went home crying
and her husband wasn t at all pleased. "I see," said
he, "you re not fit for business. Come along, I ll get you
a kitchen-maid s place in the palace. I know the cook/
So the poor thing was obliged to stifle her pride
once more. She was kept very busy, and the footman
and the butler would be very impudent about looking
for a kiss, but she let a screech out of her the first at
tempt was made, and the cook gave the fellow such a
lambasting with the besom that he made no second of
fer. She went home to her husband every night, and
she carried broken victuals wrapped in papers in her
side pockets.
314 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
A week after she got service there was great bustle in
the kitchen. The king was going to be married, but
no one knew who the bride was to be. Well, in the
evening the cook filled the princess s pockets with cold
meat and puddings, and, says she, "Before you go, let
us have a look at the great doings in the big parlor/
So they came near the door to get a peep, and who
should come out but the king himself, as handsome as
you please, and no other but King Whiskers himself.
"Your handsome helper must pay for her peeping," said
he to the cook, "and dance a jig with me." Whether
she would or no, he held her hand and brought her into
the parlor. The fiddlers struck up, and away went
him with her. But they hadn t danced two steps when
the meat and the puddens flew out of her pockets.
Every one roared out, and she flew to the door, crying
piteously. But she was soon caught by the king, and
taken into the back parlor. "Don t you know me, my
darling?" said he. "I m both King Whiskers, your
husband the ballad-singer, and the drunken huntsman.
Your father knew me well enough when he gave you
to me, and all was to drive your pride out of you."
Well, she didn t know how she was with fright, and
shame, and joy. Love was uppermost anyhow, for she
laid her head on her husband s breast and cried like
a child. The maids-of-honor soon had her away and
dressed her as fine as hands and pins could do it; and
there were her mother and father, too; and while the
company were wondering what end of the handsome
girl and the king, he and his queen, who they didn t
know in her fine clothes, and the other king and queen,
came in, and such rejoicings and fine doings as there
was, none of us will ever see, any way.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 315
THE ENCHANTMENT OF GEAEOIDH IARLA
BY PATRICK KENNEDY *
IN old times in Ireland there was a great man of the
Fitzgeralds. The name on him was Gerald, but the
Irish, that always had a great liking for the family,
called him Gearoidh I aria (Earl Gerald). He had a
great castle or rath at Mullymast (Mullaghmast) ; and
whenever the English Government were striving to put
some wrong on the country, he was always the man
that stood up for it. Along with being a great leader
in a fight, and very skilful at all weapons, he was deep
in the black art, and could change himself into what
ever shape he pleased. His lady knew that he had this
power, and often asked him to let her into some of his
secrets, but he never would gratify her.
She wanted particularly to see him in some strange
shape, but he put her off and off on one pretence or
other. But she wouldn t be a woman if she hadn t
perseverance; and so at last he let her know that if
she took the least fright while he d be out of his nat
ural form, he would never recover it till many genera
tions of men would be under the mould. "Oh! she
wouldn t be a fit wife for Gearoidh larla if she could
be easily frightened. Let him but gratify her in this
whim, and he d see what a hero she was !" So one
beautiful summer evening, as they were sitting in their
grand drawing-room, he turned his face away from her
and muttered some words, and while you d wink he was
clever and clean out of sight, and a lovely goldfinch was
flying about the room.
The lady, as courageous as she thought herself, was
a little startled, but she held her own pretty well, espe
cially when he came and perched on her shoulder, and.
* Legendary Fiction of the Irish Celts. (Macmillan.)
316 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
shook his wings, and put his little beak to her lips, and
whistled the delightfulest tune you ever heard. Well,
he flew in circles round the room, and played hide and
go seek with his lady, and flew out into the garden, and
flew back again, and lay down in her lap as if he was
asleep, and jumped up again.
Well, when the thing had lasted long enough to satisfy
both, he took one flight more into the open air ; but by
my word he was soon on his return. He flew right into
his lady s bosom, and the next moment a fierce hawk
was after him. The wife gave one loud scream, though
there was no need, for the wild bird came in like an
arrow, and struck against a table with such force that
the life was dashed out of him. She turned her eyes
from his quivering body to where she saw the gold
finch an instant before, but neither goldfinch nor Earl
Gerald did she ever lay eyes on again.
Once every seven years the Earl rides round the Cur-
ragh of Kildare on a steed, whose silver shoes were half
an inch thick the time he disappeared; and when these
shoes are worn as thin as a cat s ear, he will be restored
to the society of living men, fight a great battle with
the English, and reign king of Ireland for two-score
years.*
Himself and his warriors are now sleeping in a long
cavern under the Eath of Mullaghmast. There is a
table running along through the middle of the cave.
The Earl is sitting at the head, and his troopers down
along in complete armor both sides of the table, and
their heads resting on it. Their horses, saddled and
bridled, are standing behind their masters in their
stalls at *.ach side ; and when the day comes, the miller s
son that s to be born with six fingers on each hand will
blow hi trumpet, and the horses will stamp and whinny,
* The last time Gearoidh larla appeared the horse shoes
were as thin as a sixpence.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 317
and the knights awake and mount their steeds, and go
forth to battle.
Some night that happens once in every seven years,
while the Earl is riding round the Curragh, the entrance
may be seen by any one chancing to pass by. About a
hundred years ago, a horse-dealer that was late abroad
and a little drunk, saw the lighted cavern, and went in.
The lights, and the stillness, and the sight of the men
in armor, cowed him a good deal, and he became sober.
His hands began to tremble, and he let a bridle fall
on the pavement. The sound of the bit echoed through
the long cave, and one of the warriors that was next
him lifted his head a little, and said, in a deep, hoarse
voice, "Is it time yet?" He had the wit to say, "Not
yet, but soon will," and the heavy helmet sunk down on
the table. The horse-dealer made the best of his way
out, and I never heard of any other one having got the
same opportunity.
MUNACHAR AND MANACHER
TRANSLATED LITERALLY FROM THE IRISH BY
DOUGLAS HYDE
THERE once lived a Munachar and a Manachar, a
long time ago, and it is a long time since it was, and
if they were alive then they would not be alive now.
They went out together to pick raspberries, and as many
as Munachar used to pick Manachar used to eat. Muna
char said he must go look for a rod to make a gad
(a withy band) to hang Manachar, who ate his raspber
ries every one ; and he came to the rod. "God save you,"
said the rod. "God and Mary save you." "How far
are you going?" "Going looking for a rod, a rod to
make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my rasp
berries every one."
318 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
"You will not get me," said the rod, "until you get an
axe to cut me." He came to the axe. "God save you,"
said the axe. "God and Mary save you." "How far are
you going?" "Going looking for an axe, an axe to cut
a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar,
who ate my raspberries every one."
"You will not get me," said the axe, "until you get
a flag to edge me." He came to the nag. "God save
you," says the flag. "God and Mary save you." "How
far are you going ?" "Going looking for an axe, an axe
to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Mana
char, who ate my raspberries every one."
"You will not get me," says the flag, "till you get
water to wet me." He came to the water. "God save
you," says the water. "God and Mary save you." "How
far are you going?" "Going looking for water, water
to wet flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make
a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries
every one."
"You will not get me," said the water, "until you get
a deer who will swim me." He came to the deer. "God
save you," says the deer. "Qod and Mary save you."
"How far are you going?" "Going looking for a deer,
deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe,
axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang
Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one."
"You will not get me," said the deer, "until you get
a hound who will hunt me." He came to the hound.
"God save you," says the hound. "God and Mary
save you." "How far are you going ?" "Going looking
for a hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water,
water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a
rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate
my raspberries every one."
"You will not get me," said the hound, "until you
get a bit of butter to put in my claw." He came to the
butter. "God save you," says the butter. "God and
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 319
Mary save you." "How far are you going?" "Going
looking for butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound
to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag
to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a
gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every
one."
"You will not get me," said the butter, "until you
get a cat who shall scrape me." He came to the cat.
"God save you," said the cat. "God and Mary save
you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking for
a cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of
hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water
to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to
make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my rasp
berries every one."
"You will not get me," said the cat, "until you will
get milk which you will give me." He came to the
cow. "God save you," said the cow. "God and Mary
save you." "How far are you going?" "Going looking
for a cow, cow to give me niilk, milk I will give to the
cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound,
hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet
flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a
gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries
every one."
"You will not get any milk from me," said the cow,
"until you bring me a whisp of straw from those thresh
ers yonder." He came to the threshers. "God save
you," said the threshers. "God and Mary save ye."
"How far are you going ?" "Going looking for a whisp
of straw from ye to give to the cow, the cow to give me
milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter,
butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer
to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe
to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Mana
char, who ate my raspberries every one."
"You will not get any whisp of straw from us," said
320 IRISH. FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
the threshers, "until you bring us the makings of a cake
from the miller over yonder." He came to the miller.
"God save you." "God and Mary save you." "How far
are you going?" "Going looking for the makings of a
cake, which I will give to the threshers, the threshers to
give me a whisp of straw, the whisp of straw I will give
to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to
the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of
hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to
wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to
make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my rasp
berries every one."
"You will not get any makings of a cake from me,"
said the miller, "till you bring me the full of that sieve
of water from the river over there."
He took the sieve in his hand and went over to the
river, but as often as ever he would stoop and fill it with
water, the moment he raised it the water would run out
of it again, and sure, if he had been there from that day
till this, he never could have filled it. A crow went
flying by him, over his head. "Daub ! daub !" said the
crow. "My soul to God, then," said Munachar, "but
it s the good advice you have," and he took the red clay
and the daub that was by the brink, and he rubbed it
to the bottom of the sieve, until all the holes were filled,
and then the sieve held the water, and he brought the
water to the miller, and the miller gave him the mak
ings of a cake, and he gave the makings of the cake to
the threshers, and the threshers gave him a whisp of
straw, and he gave the whisp of straw to the cow, and
the cow gave him milk, the milk he gave to the cat,
the cat scraped the butter, the butter went into the claw
of the hound, the hound hunted the deer, the deer swam
the water, the water wet the flag, the flag sharpened the
axe, the axe cut the rod, and the rod made a gad, and
when he had it ready I ll go bail that Manachar was
far enough away from him.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 321
There is some tale like this in almost every language. It
resembles that given in that splendid work of industry and
patriotism, Campbell s Tales of the West Highlands under
the name of Moonachug and Meenachug. "The English
House that Jack built," says Campbell, "has eleven steps, the
Scotch Old Woman with the Silver Penny has twelve, the
Novsk Cock and Hen A-nuting has twelve, ten of which are
double. The German story in Grimm has five or six, all
single ideas." This, however, is longer than any of them. It
sometimes varies a little in the telling, and the actors
nafnes are sometimes Suracha and Muracha, and the crow
is sometimes a gull, who, instead of daub! daub! says cuir
ere rua lesli.
DONALD AND HIS NEIGHBORS
From Hibernian Tales.*
HUDDEN and Dudden and Donald O Nery were near
neighbors in the barony of Balinconlig, and ploughed
with three bullocks; but the two former, envying the
present prosperity of the latter, determined to kill his
bullock, to prevent his farm from being properly cul
tivated and labored, that going back in the world he
might be induced to sell his lands, which they meant to
get possession of. Poor Donald, finding his bullock
killed, immediately skinned it, and throwing the skin
over his shoulder, with the fleshy side out, set off to the
next town with it, to dispose of it to the best of his ad
vantage. Going along the road a magpie flew on the top
of the hide, and began picking it, chattering all the
time. The bird had been taught to speak, and imitate
the human voice, and Donald, thinking he understood
some words it was saying, put round his hand and
caught hold of it. Having got possession of it, he put
it under his greatcoat, and so went on to town. Hav-
* A chap-book mentioned by Thackeray in his Irish Sketch
322 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
ing sold the hide, he went into an inn to take a dram,
and following the landlady into the cellar, he gave the
bird a squeeze which made it chatter some broken ac
cents that surprised her very much. "What is that I
hear ?" said she to Donald. "I think it is talk, and yet
I do not understand." "Indeed," said Donald, "it is a
bird I have that tells me everything, and I always carry
it with me to know when there is any danger. Faith,"
says he, "it says you have far better liquor than you are
giving me." "That is strange," said she, going to an
other cask of better quality, and asking him if he would
sell the bird. "I will," said Donald, "if I get enough
for it." "I will fill your hat with silver if you leave it
with me." Donald was glad to hear the news, and tak
ing the silver, set off, rejoicing at his good luck. He
had not been long at home until he met with Hud den
and Dudden. "Mr.," said he, "you thought you had done
me a bad turn, but you could not have done me a bet
ter; for look here, what I have got for the hide," show
ing them a hatful of silver ; "you never saw such a de
mand for hides in your life as there is at present."
Hudden and Dudden that very night killed their bul
locks, and set out the next morning to sell their hides.
On coming to the place they went through all the mer
chants., but could only get a trifle for them ; at last they
had to take what they could get, and came home in a
great rage, and vowing revenge on poor Donald. He
had a pretty good guess how matters would turn out,
and he being under the kitchen window, he was afraid
they would rob him, or perhaps kill him when asleep,
and on that account when he was going to bed he left
his old mother in his place, and lay down in her bed,
which was in the other side of the house, and they tak
ing the old woman for Donald, choked her in her bed, but
he making some noise, they had to retreat, and leave the
money behind them, which grieved them very much.
However, by daybreak, Donald got his mother on his back,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 323
and carried her to town. Stopping at a well, he fixed
his mother with her staff, as if she was stooping for a
drink, and then went into a public house convenient
and called for a dram. "I wish/ said he to a woman
that stood near him, "you would tell my mother to come
in; she is at yon well trying to get a drink, and she is
hard of hearing; if she does not observe you, give her a
little shake and tell her that I want her/ The woman
called her several times, but she seemed to take no
notice; at length she went to her and shook her by the
arm, but when she let her go again, she tumbled on her
head into the well, and, as the woman thought, was
drowned. She, in her great surprise and fear at the ac
cident, told Donald what had happened. "0 mercy,"
said he, "what is this ?" He ran and pulled her out of
the well, weeping and lamenting all the time, and act
ing in such a manner that you would imagine that he
had lost his senses. The woman, on the other hand,
was far worse than Donald, for his grief was only
feigned, but she imagined herself to be the cause of the
old woman s death. The inhabitants of the town hear
ing what had happened, agreed to make Donald up a
good sum of money for his loss, as the accident hap
pened in their place, and Donald brought a greater sum
home with him than he got for the magpie. They
buried Donald s mother, and as soon as he saw Hudden
he showed them the last purse of money he had got.
"You thought to kill me last night," said he, "but it
was good for me it happened on my mother, for I got all
that purse for her to make gunpowder."
That very night Hudden and Dudden killed their
mothers, and the next morning set off with them to
town. On coming to the town with their burthen on
their backs, they went up and down crying, "Who will
buy old wives for gunpowder ?" so that everyone laughed
at them, and the boys at last clotted them out of the
place. They then saw the cheat, and vowed revenge OP
224 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Donald, buried the old women, and set off in pursuit of
him. Coming to his house, they found him sitting at
his breakfast, and seizing him, put him in a sack, and
went to drown him in a river at some distance. As they
were going along the highway they raised a hare, which
they saw had but three feet, and throwing off the sack,
ran after her, thinking by her appearance she would be
easily taken. In their absence there came a drover that
way, and hearing Donald singing in the sack, wondered
greatly what could be the matter. "What is the reason,"
said he, "that you are singing, and you confined ?" "Oh,
I am going to heaven," said Donald, "and in a short
time I expect to be free from trouble." "0 dear," said
the drover, "what will I give you if you let me to your
place?" "Indeed, I do not know," said he, "it would
take a good sum." "I have not much money," said the
drover, "but I have twenty head of fine cattle, which I
will give you to exchange places with me." "Well," says
Donald, "I do not care if I should loose the sack, and I
will come out." In a moment the drover liberated him,
and went into the sack himself, and Donald drove home
the fine heifers, and left them in his pasture.
Hudden and Dudden having caught the hare, re
turned, and getting the sack on one of their backs, car
ried Donald, as they thought, to the river and threw
him in, where he immediately sank. They then marched
home, intending to take immediate possession of Don
ald s property, but how great was their surprise when
they found him safe at home before them, with such a
fine herd of cattle, whereas they knew he had none be
fore. "Donald," said they, "what is all this? We
thought you were drowned, and yet you are here before
us." "Ah !" said he, "if I had but help along with me
when you threw me in, it would have been the best job
ever I met with, for of all the sight of cattle and gold
that ever was seen is there, and no one to own them,
but I was not able to manage more than what you see,
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 325
and I could show you the spot where you might get
hundreds." They both swore they would be his friend,
and Donald accordingly led them to a very deep part of
the river, and lifted up a stone. "Now," said he, "watch
this," throwing it into the stream; "there is the very
place, and go in, one of you first, and if you want help,
you have nothing to do but call/ Hudden jumping in,
and sinking to the bottom, rose up again, and making a
bubbling noise, as those do that are drowning, attempted
to speak, but could not. "What is that he is saying
now ?" says Dudden. "Faith," says Donald, "he is call
ing for help; don t you hear him? Stand about," said
he, running back, "till I leap in. I know how to do it
better than any of you." Dudden, to have the advantage
of him, jumped in off the bank, and was drowned along
with Hudden, and this was the end of Hudden and
Dudden.
THE JACKDAW
TOM MOOR was a linen draper in Sackville Street.
His father, when he died, left him an affluent fortune,
and a shop of excellent trade.
As he was standing at his door one day a countryman
came up to him with a nest of jackdaws, and accosting
him, says, "Master, will you buy a nest of daws ?" "No,
I don t want any." "Master," replied the man, "I will
sell them all cheap; you shall have the whole nest for
ninepence." "I don t want them," answered Tom Moor,
"so go about your business."
As the man was walking away one of the daws popped
out his head, and cried "Mawk, mawk." "Damn it,"
says Tom Moor, "that bird knows my name; halloo,
countryman, what will you take for the bird ?" "Why,
you shall have him for threepence." Tom Moor bought
him, had a cage made, and hung him up in the shop.
326 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
The journeymen took much notice of the bird, and
would frequently tap at the bottom of the cage, and say,
"Who are you ? Who are you ? Tom Moor of Sackville
Street."
In a short time the jackdaw learned these words, and
if he wanted victuals or water, would strike his bill
against the cage, turn up the white of his eyes, cock his
head, and cry, "Who are you ? who are you ? Tom Moor
of Sackville Street."
Tom Moor was fond of gaming, and often lost large
sums of money; finding his business neglected in his
absence, he had a- small hazard table set up in one cor
ner of his dining-room, and invited a party of his friends
to play at it.
The jackdaw had by this time become familiar; his
cage was left open, and he hopped into every part of
the house ; sometimes he got into the dining-room, where
the gentlemen were at play, and one of them being a
constant winner, the others would say : "Damn it, how
he nicks them." The bird learned these words also, and
adding them to the former, would call, "Who are you?
who are you ? Tom Moor of Sackville Street. Damn it,
how he nicks them."
Tom Moor, from repeated losses and neglect of busi
ness, failed in trade, and became a prisoner in the Fleet ;
he took his bird with him, and lived on the master s side,
supported by friends, in a decent manner. They would
sometimes ask, "What brought you here ?" when he used
to lift up his hands and answer, "Bad company, by
G ." The bird learned this likewise, and at the end
of the former words, would say, "What brought you
here? Bad company, by G ."
Some of Tom Moor s friends died, others went abroad,
and by degrees he was totally deserted, and removed to
the common side of the prison, where the jail distemper
soon attacked him ; and in the last stage of life, lying on
a straw bed ; the poor bird had been for two days without
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 327
food or water, came to his feet, and striking his bill on
the floor, calls out, "Who are you ? Tom Moor of Sack-
ville Street; damn it, how he nicks them, damn it, how
he nicks them. What brought you here ? Bad company,
by G , bad company, by G ."
Tom Moor, who had attended to the bird, was struck
with his words, and reflecting on himself, cried out:
"Good God, to what a situation am I reduced ! my
father, when he died, left me a good fortune and an es
tablished trade. I have spent my fortune, ruined my
business, and am now dying in a loathsome jail; and to
complete all, keeping that poor thing confined without
support. I will endeavor to do one piece of justice be
fore I die, by setting him at liberty."
He made a struggle to crawl from his straw bed^
opened the casement, and out flew the bird. A flight
of jackdaws from the Temple were going over the jail,
and Tom Moor s bird mixed among them. The gar
dener was then laying the plats of the Temple gardens,
and as often as he placed them in the day the jackdaws
pulled them up by night. They got a gun and at
tempted to shoot some of them ; but being cunning birds,
they always placed one as a watch in the stump of a hol
low tree; who, as soon as the gun was leveled cried
"Mawk," and away they flew.
The gardeners were advised to get a net, and the first
night it was spread they caught fifteen; Tom Moor s
bird was amongst them. One of the men took the net
into a garret of an uninhabited house, fastens the doors
and windows, and turns the birds loose. "Now," said
he, "you black rascals, I will be revenged of you/ Tak
ing hold of the first at hand, he twists her neck, and
throwing him down, cries, "There goes one." Tom
Moor s bird, who had hopped up to a beam at one cor
ner of the room unobserved, as the man lays hold of the
second, calls out, "Damn it, how he nicks them." The
man alarmed, cries, "Sure I heard a voice, but Ih^ hoir-e
328 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
is uninhabited, and the door is fast; it could only be
imagination." On laying hold of the third, and twiM>
ing his neck, Tom s bird again says, "Damn it, how he
nicks them." The man dropped the bird in his hand,
and turning to where the voice came from, seeing the
other with his mouth open, cries out, "Who are you ?" to
which the bird answered, "Tom Moor of Sackville
Street, Tom Moor of Sackville Street." "The devil you
are; and what brought you here?" Tom Moor s bird,
lifting up his pinions, answered, "Bad company, by G ,
bad comriany, by G ." The fellow, frightened almost
out of his wits, opened the door, ran down stairs, and
out of the house, followed by all the birds, who by this
means regained their liberty.
THE STORY OF CONN-EDA; OR THE GOLDEN
APPLES OF LOUGH ERNE *
Translated -from the original Irish of the Story-teller,
ABKAHAM Me COY, ~by NICHOLAS O KEARNEY
IT was long before the time the western districts of
Innis Fodlild^ had any settled name, but were indis
criminately called after the person who took possession
of them, and whose name they retained only as long as
his sway lasted, that a powerful king reigned over this
part of the sacred island. He was a puissant warrior,
and no individual was found able to compete with him
either on land or sea, or question his right to his con
quest. The great king of the west held uncontrolled sway
* Printed first in the Cambrian Journal, 1855 ; reprinted
and re-edited in the Folk-Lore Record, vol. ii.
t Innis Fodhla Island of Destiny, an old name for Ire
land.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 329
from the island of Eathlin to the mouth of the Shannon
by sea, and as far as the glittering length by land.
The ancient king of the west, whose name was Conn, was
good as well as great, and passionately loved by his
people. His queen was a Breaton (British) princess, and
was equally beloved and esteemed, because she was the
great counterpart of the king in every respect ; for what
ever good qualification was wanting in the one , the
other was certain to indemnify the omission. It was
plainly manifest that heaven approved of the career in
life of the virtuous couple; for during their reign the
earth produced exuberant crops, the trees fruit ninefold
commensurate with their usual bearing, the rivers, lakes,
and surrounding sea teemed with abundance of choice
iish, while herds and flocks were unusually prolific, and
kine and sheep yielded such abundance of rich milk that
they shed it in torrents upon the pastures ; and furrows
and cavities were always filled with the pure lacteal
produce of the dairy. All these were blessings heaped
by heaven upon the western districts of Innis Fodhla,
over which the begnignant and just Conn swayed his
scepter, in approbation of the course of government he
had marked out for his own guidance. It is needless to
state that the people who owned the authority of the
great and good sovereign were the happiest on the face
of the wide expanse of earth. It was during his reign,
and that of his son and successor, that Ireland acquired
the title of the Chappy isle of the west" among foreign
nations.
Conn Mor and his good Queen Eda reigned in
great glory during many years; they were blessed with
an only son, whom they named Conn-eda, after both his
parents, because the Druids foretold ai his birth that he
would inherit the good qualities of both. According as
the young prince grew in years, his amiable and be
nignant qualities of mind, as well as his great strength
of body and manly bearing, became more manifest. He
330 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
was the idol of his parents, and the boast of his people ;
he was beloved and respected to that degree that neither
prince, lord nor phebeian swore an oath by the sun,
moon, stars, or elements, except by the head of Conn-
eda. This career of glory, however, was doomed to meet
a powerful but temporary impediment, for the good
Queen Eda took a sudden and severe illness, of which
she died in a few days, thus plunging her spouse, her
son, and all her people into a depth of grief and sorrow
from which it was found difficult to relieve them.
The good king and his subjects mourned the loss of
Queen Eda for a year and a day, and at the expiration
of that time Conn Mor reluctantly yielded to the advice
of his Druids and counsellors, and took to wife the
daughter of his Arch-Druid. The new queen appeared
to walk in the footsteps of the good Eda for several
years, and gave great satisfaction to her subjects. But,
in course of time, having had several children, and per
ceiving that Conn-eda was the favorite son of the king
and the darling of the people, she clearly foresaw that
he would become successor to the throne after the de
mise of his father, and that her son would certainly be
excluded. This excited the hatred and inflamed the
jealousy of the Druid s daughter against her stepson
to such an extent, that she resolved in her own mind to
leave nothing in her power undone to secure his death,
or even exile from the kingdom. She began by circu
lating evil reports of the prince; but, as he was above
suspicion, the king only laughed at the weakness of the
queen; and the great princes and chieftains, supported
by the people in general, gave an unqualified contradic
tion ; while the prince himself bore all his trials with the
utmost patience, and always repaid her bad and malici
ous acts toward him with good and benevolent ones.
The enmity of the queen toward Conn-eda knew no
bounds when she saw that the false reports she circu
lated could not injure him. _As a last resource, to carry
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 331
out her wicked projects, she determined to consult her
CailleacJi-ch earc (hen-wife), who was a reputed en
chantress.
Pursuant to her resolution, by the early dawn of
morning she hied to the cabin of the Callleacli-cliearc,
and divulged to her the cause of her trouble. "I cannot
render you any help/ said the Caillea-cli, "until you
name the duals" (reward). "What duais do you re
quire ?" asked the queen, impatiently. "My duals/ re
plied the enchantress, "is to fill the cavity of my arm
with wool, and the hole I shall bore with my distaff with
red wheat." "Your duais is granted, and shall be im
mediately given you," said the queen. The enchantress
thereupon stood in the door of her hut, and bending her
arm into a circle with her side, directed the royal at
tendants to thrust the Wool into her house through her
arm, and she never permitted them to cease until all
the available space within was filled with wool. She then
got on the roof of her brother s house, and, having made
a hole through it with her distaff, caused red wheat to
be spilled through it, until that was filled up to the roof
with red wheat, so that there was no room for another
grain within. "Now," said the queen, "since you have
received your duals, tell me how I can accomplish my
purpose."
"Take this chess board and chess, and then invite
the prince to play with you; you shall win the first
game. The condition you shall make is that who
ever wins a game shall be at liberty to impose what
ever geasa (conditions) the winner pleases on the loser.
When you win, you must bid the prince, under the pen
alty either to go into loiwrbadh (exile), or procure for
you, within the space of a year and a day, the three
golden apples that grew in the garden, the each dubli
(black steed), and culleen con na mbuadJi (hound of su
pernatural powers), called Samer, which are in the pos
session of the king of the Firbolg race, who resides 1 , in
332 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
Lough Erne.* Those two things are so precious, and
so well guarded, that he can never attain them by his
own power; and, if he would rashly attempt to seek
them, he should lose his life."
The queen was greatly pleased at the advice, and lost
no time in inviting Conn-eda to play a game at chess,
under the conditions she had been instructed to arrange
by the enchantress. The queen won the game, as the
enchantress foretold, but so great was her anxiety to
have the prince completely in her power, that she was
tempted to challenge him to play a second game, which
Conn-eda, to her astonishment, and no less mortification,
easily won. "Now," said the prince, "since you won the
first game, it is your duty to impose your geis first."
"My geis," said the queen, "which I impose upon you,
is to procure me the three golden apples that grow in
the garden, the each dubli (black steed), and cuileen
con na mbuadli (hound of supernatural powers), which
are in the keeping of the king of the Firbolgs, in Lough
Erne, within the space of a year and a day ; or, in case
you fail, to go into ionarbadh (exile), and never return,
except you surrender yourself to loose your head and
comhead beatha (preservation of life). "Well, then,"
said the prince, "the geis which I bind you by, is to sit
upon the pinnacle of yonder tower until my return, and
to take neither food nor nourishment of any description,
except what red-wheat you can pick up with the point of
your bodkin; but if I do not return, you are at perfect
liberty to come down at the expiration of the year and a
day."
In consequence of the severe geis imposed upon him,
Conn-eda was very much troubled in mind; and, well
knowing he had a long journey to make before he would
* The Firbolgs believed their elysium to be under water.
The peasantry still believe many lakes to be peopled. See
section on T yeer na n-Oge.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 333
reach his destination, immediately prepared to set out
on his way, not, however, before he had the satisfaction
of witnessing the ascent of the queen to the place where
she was obliged to remain exposed to the scorching sun
of the summer and the blasting storms of winter, for the
space of one year and a day, at least. Conn-eda being
ignorant of what steps he should take to procure the
each dubh and cuileen con na mbuadli, though he was
well aware that human energy would prove unavailing,
thought proper to consult the great Druid, Fionn
Dadhna, of Sleabh Badhna, who was a friend of his be
fore he ventured to proceed to Lough Erne. When he
arrived at the bruighean of the Druid, he was received
with cordial friendship, and the faille (welcome), as
usual, was poured out before him, and when he was
seated, warm water was fetched, and his feet bathed so
that the fatigue he felt after his journey was greatly
relieved. The Druid, after he had partaken of refresh
ments, consisting of the newest of food and oldest of
liquors, asked him the reason for paying the visit, and
more particularly the cause of his sorrow ; for the prince
appeared exceedingly depressed in spirit. Conn-eda told
his friend the whole history of the transaction with his
stepmother from beginning to end. "Can you not assist
me?" asked the Prince, with downcast countenance. "I
cannot, indeed, assist you at present," replied the Druid ;
"but I will retire to my grianan (green place) at sun-
rising on the morrow, and learn by virtue of my Druid-
ism what can be done to assist you." The Druid, ac
cordingly, as the sun rose on the following morning,
retired to his grianan, and consulted the god he adored,
through the power of his draoidheacht* When he re
turned, he called Conn-eda aside on tbe plain, and ad
dressed him thus : "My dear son, I find you have been
* Draoidheacht, i. e., the Druidic worship ; magic, sor
cery, divination.
334 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
under a severe an almost impossible geis intended
for your destruction; no person on earth could have
advised the queen to impose it except the Cailleach of
Lough Corrib, who is the greatest Druidess now in Ire
land, and sister to the Firbolg, King of Lough Erne. It
is not in my power, nor in that of the Deity I adore, to
interfere in your behalf; but go directly to Sliabh Mis,
and consult Ednchinn-duine (the bird of the human
head), and if there be any possibility of relieving you,
that bird can do it, for there is not a bird in the western
world so celebrated as that bird, because it knows all
things that are past, all things that are present and
exist, and all things that shall hereafter exist. It is
difficult to find access to his place of concealment, and
more difficult still to obtain an answer from him; but I
will endeavor to regulate that matter for you ; and that
is all I can do for you at present."
The Arch-Druid then instructed him thus : "Take/
said he, "yonder little shaggy steed, and mount him im
mediately, for in three days the bird will make himself
visible, and the little shaggy steed will conduct you to
his place of abode. But lest the bird should refuse to
reply to your queries, take this precious stonne (leag
lorgmJiar), and present it to him, and then little danger
and doubt exist but that he will give you a ready
answer." The prince returned heartfelt thanks to the
Druid and, having saddled and mounted the little shaggy
horse without much delay, he received the precious
stone from the Druid, and, after having taken his leave
of him, set out on his journey. He suffered the reins to
fall loose upon the neck of the horse according as he
had been instructed, so that the animal took whatever
road he chose.
It would be tedious to relate the numerous adventures
he had with the little shaggy horse, which had the ex
traordinary gift of speech, and was a draoidkeackt
horse during his journey.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 335
The Prince having reached the hiding place of the
strange bird at the appointed time, and having pre
sented him with the leag lorgmliar, according to Fionn
Badhna s instructions, and proposed his questions rela
tive to the manner he could best arrange for the fulfil
ment of his geis, the bird took up in his mouth the
jewel from the stone on which it was placed, and flew
to an inaccessible rock at some distance, and, when there
perched, he thus addressed the prince, "Conn-eda, son
of the King of Cruachan," said he, in a loud, croaking
human voice, "remove the stone just under your right
foot, and take the ball of iron and corna (cup) you shall
find under it; then mount your horse, cast the ball be
fore you, and having so done, your horse will tell you
all the other things necessary to be done." The bird,
having said this, immediately flew out of sight.
Conn-eda took great care to do everything according
to the instructions of the bird. He found the iron ball
and corna in the place which had been pointed out. He
took them up, mounted his horse, and cast the ball be
fore him. The ball rolled on at a regular gait, while
the little shaggy horse followed on the way it led until
they reached the margin of Lough Erne. Here the ball
rolled in the water and became invisible. "Alight now,"
said the draoidheacht pony, "and put your hand into
mine ear; take from thence the small bottle of ice (all
heal) and the little wicker basket which you will find
there, and remount with speed, for just now your great
dangers and difficulties commence." Conn-eda, ever
faithful to the kind advice of his draoidheacht pony, did
what he had been advised. Having taken the basket
and bottle of ice from the animal s ear, he remounted
and proceeded on his journey, while the water of the
lake appeared only like an atmosphere above his head.
When he entered the lake the ball again appeared, and
rolled along until it came to the margin, across which
was a causeway, guarded by three frightful serpents;
336 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
the hissings of the monsters was heard at a great dis
tance,, while, on a nearer approach, their yawning
mouths and formidable fangs were quite sufficient to
terrify the stoutest heart. "Now." said the horse, "open
the basket and cast a piece of the meat you will find in
it into the mouth of each serpent; when you have done
this, secure yourself in your seat in the best manner you
can, so that we may make all due arrangements to pa,ss
: those draoidheacht peists. If you cast the pieces of
meat into the mouth of each peist unerringly, we shall
pass them safely, otherwise we are lost." Conn-eda flung
the pieces of meat into the jaws of the serpents with
unerring aim. "Bare a benison and victory," said the
draoidheacht steed, "for you are a youth that will win
and prosper." And, on saying these words, he sprang
aloft, and cleared in his leap the river and ford, guarded
by the serpents, seven measures beyond the margin.
"Are you still mounted, Prince Conn-eda?" said the
steed. "It has taken only half my exertion to remain
so," replied Conn-eda. "I find," said the pony, "that
you are a young prince that deserves to succeed; one
danger is now over, but two others remain." They pro
ceeded onward after the ball until they came in view of
a great mountain flaming with fire. "Hold yourself in
readiness for another dangerous leap," said the horse.
The trembling prince had no answer to make, but seated
himself as securely as the magnitude of the danger be
fore him would permit. The horse in the next instant
sprang from the earth, and flew like an arrow over the
burning mountain. "Are you still alive, Conn-eda, son
of Conn-M6r?" inquired the faithful horse. "I m just
.alive, and no mere, for I m greatly scorched," answered
the prince. "Since you are yet alive, I feel assured that
jou are a young man destined to meet supernatural
success and benisons," said the Druidic steed. " Our
.greatest dangers are over," added he, "and there is hope
that we shall overcome the next and last danger." After
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 337
they had proceeded a short distance, his faithful steed,
addressing Conn-eda, said, "Alight, now, and apply a.
portion of" the little bottle of ice to your wounds/ The
prince immediately followed the advice of his monitor,
and, as soon as he rubbed the ice (all-heal) to his
wounds, he became as whole and fresh as ever he had
been before. After having done this, Conn-eda re
mounted, and following the track of the ball, soon came
in sight of a great city surrounded by high walls. The
only gate that was visible was not defended by armed
men, but by two great towers that emitted flames that
could be seen at a great distance. "Alight on this
plain," said the steed, "and take a small knife from my
other ear; and with this knife you shall kill and flay
me. When you have done this, envelope yourself in my
hide, and you can pass the gate unscathed and unmo
lested. When you get inside you can come out at pleas
ure; because when once you enter there is no danger,,
and you can pass and repass whenever you wish; and
let me tell you that all I have to ask of you in return
is that you, when once inside the gates, will immedi
ately return and drive away the birds of prey that may
be fluttering round to feed on my carcass; and more,
that you will pour any drop of that powerful ice, if such
still remain in the bottle, upon my flesh, to preserve it
from corruption. When you do this in memory of me,,
if it be not too troublesome, dig a pit, and cast my re
mains into it."
"Well." said Conn-eda, "my noblest steed, because
you have been so faithful to me hitherto, and because
you still would have rendered me further service, I con
sider such a proposal insulting to my feelings as a man r
and totally in variance with the spirit which can feel
the value of gratitude, not to speak of my feelings as a
prince. But as a prince I am able to say, Come what
may come death itself in its most hideous forms and
terrors I never will sacrifice private friendship to per-
338 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
sonal interest. Hence, I am, I swear by my arms of
valor, prepared to meet the worst even death itself
sooner than violate the principles of humanity, honor,
and friendship ! What a sacrifice do you propose I"
"Pshaw, man ! heed not that ; do what I advise you,
and prosper." "Never ! never !" exclaimed the prince.
"Well, then, son of the great western monarch/ said
the horse, with a tone of sorrow, "if you do not follow
my advice on this occasion, I tell you that both you
and I shall perish, and shall never meet again; but, if
you act as I have instructed you, matters shall assume
a happier and more pleasing aspect than you may
imagine. I have not misled you heretofore, and, if I
have not, what need have you to doubt the most im
portant portion of my counsel? Do exactly as I have
directed you, else you will cause a worse fate than death
to befall me. And, moreover, I can tell you that, if
you persist in your resolution, I have done with you
forever."
When the prince found that his noble steed could not
be persuaded from his purpose, he took the knife out of
his ear with reluctance, and with a faltering and
trembling hand essayed experimentally to point the
weapon at his throat. Conn-eda s eyes were bathed in
tears ; but no sooner had he pointed the Druidic scian to
the throat of his good steed, than the dagger, as if im
pelled by some Druidic power, stuck in his neck, and in
an instant the work of death was done, and the noble
animal fell dead at his feet. W r hen the prince saw his
.noble steed fall dead by his hand, he cast himself on the
ground, and cried aloud until his consciousness was
gone. When he recovered, he perceived that the steed
was quite dead; and, as he thought there was no hope
of resuscitating him, he considered it the most prudent
course he could adopt to act according to the advice he
.had given him. After many misgivings of mind and
abundant showers of tears, he essayed the task of flay-
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 339
ing him, which was only that of a few minutes. When
he found he had the hide separated from the body, he,
in the derangement of the moment, enveloped himself in
it, and proceeding toward the magnificent city in rather
a demented state of mind, entered it without any moles
tation or opposition. It was a surprisingly populous
city, and an extremely wealthy place; but its beauty,
magnificence, and wealth had no* charms for Conn-eda,
because the thoughts of the loss he sustained in his dear
steed were paramount to those of all other earthly con
siderations.
He had scarcely proceeded more than fifty paces from
the gate, when the last request of his beloved draoid-
heacht steed forced itself upon his mind, and compelled
him to return to perform the last solemn injunctions
upon him. When he came to the spot upon which the
remains of his beloved draoidheacht steed lay, an appal
ling sight presented itself ; ravens and other carnivorous
birds of prey were tearing and devouring the flesh of
his dear steed. It was but short work to put them, to
flight; and having uncorked his little jar of ice, he
deemed it a labor of love to embalm the now mangled
remains with the precious ointment. The potent ice had
scarcely touched the inanimate flesh, when, to the sur
prise of Conn-eda, it commenced to undergo some
strange change, and in a few minutes, to his unspeak
able astonishment and joy, it assumed the form of one
of the handsomest and noblest young men imaginable,
and in the twinkling of an eye the prince was locked in
his embrace, smothering him with kisses, and drowning
him with tears of joy. When one recovered from his
ecstasy of joy, the other from his surprise, the strange
youth thus addressed the prince : "Most noble and puis
sant prince, you are the best sight I ever saw with my
eyes, and I am the most fortunate being in existence for
having met you ! Behold in my person, changed to the
natural shape, your little shaggy draoidheacht steed!
340 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
I am brother of the king of the city; and it was the
wicked Druid, Fionn Badhna, who kept me so long in
bondage; but he was forced to give me up when you
came to consult him, for my geis was then broken; yet
I could not recover my pristine shape and appearance
unless you had acted as you have kindly done. It was
my own sister that urged the queen, your stepmother, to
send you in quest of the steed and powerful puppy
hound, which my brother has now in keeping. My sis
ter, rest assured, had no thought of doing you the least
injury, but much good, as you will find hereafter; be
cause, if she were maliciously inclined toward you, she
could have accomplished her end without any trouble.
In short, she only wanted to free you from all future
danger and disaster, and recover me from my relentless
enemies through your instrumentality. Come with me,
my friend and deliverer, and the steed and the puppy
hound of extraordinary powers, and the golden apples,
shall be yours, and a cordial welcome shall greet you in
my brother s abode; for you will deserve all this and
much more."
The exciting joy felt on the occasion was mutual, and
they lost no time in idle congratulations, but proceeded
on to the royal residence of the King of Lough Erne.
Here they were both received with demonstrations of
joy by the king and his chieftains; and, when the pur
pose of Conn-eda s visit became known to the king, he
gave a free consent to bestow on Conn-eda the black
steed, the coileen con-na-mbuadli, called Samer, and the
three apples of health that were growing in his garden,
under the special condition, however, that he would con
sent to remain as his guest until he could set out on his
journey in proper time, to fulfil his geis. Conn-eda, at
the earnest solicitation of his friends, consented, and re
mained in the royal residence of the Firbolg, King of
Lough Erne, in the enjoyment of the most delicious and
fascinating pleasures during that period.
IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES 341
When the time of his departure came, the three golden
apples were plucked from the crystal tree in the midst
of the pleasure garden, and deposited in his bosom ; the
puppy hound, Samer, was leashed, and the leash put into
his hand ; and the black steed, richly harnessed, was got
in readiness for him to mount. The king himself helped
him on horseback, and both he and his brother assured
him that he might not fear burning mountains or hiss
ing serpents, because none would impede him, as his
steed was always a passport to and from his subaqueous
kingdom. And both he and his brother extorted a prom
ise from Conn-eda, that he would visit them once every
year at least.
Conn-eda took leave of his dear friend, and the king-
his brother. The parting was a tender one, soured by
regret on both sides. He proceeded on his way without
meeting anything to obstruct him, and in due time came
in sight of the dun of his father, where the queen had
been placed on the pinnacle of the tower, in full hope
that, as it was the last day of her imprisonment there,
the prince would not make his appearance, and thereby
forfeit all pretensions and fight to the crown of his
father forever.
But her hopes were doomed to meet with a bitter
disappointment, for when it had been announced to her
by her couriers, who had been posted to watch the arrival
of the prince, that he- approached, she was incredulous ;
but when she saw him mounted on a foaming black
steed, richly harnessed, and leading a strange kind of
animal by a silver chain, she at once knew he was re
turning in triumph, and that her schemes laid for his
destruction were frustrated. In the excess of grief at
her disappointment, she cast herself from the top of the
tower, and was instantly dashed to pieces. Conn-eda
met a welcome reception from his father, who mourned
him as lost to him forever, during his absence; and,
when the base conduct of the queen became known> the
342 IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
king and his chieftains ordered her remains to be con
sumed to ashes for her perfidy and wickedness.
Conn-eda planted the three golden apples in his gar
den,, and instantly a great tree, bearing similar fruit,
sprang up. This tree caused all the district to produce
and exuberance of crops and fruits, so that it became
as fertile and plentiful as the dominions of the Firbolgs,
in consequence of the extraordinary powers possessed by
the golden fruit. The hound Samer and the steed were
of the utmost utility to him ; and his reign was long and
prosperous, and celebrated among the old people for the
great abundance of corn, fruit, milk, fowl, and fish that
prevailed during this happy reign. It was after the
name Conn-eda the province of Connaucht, or Connected
or Connacht, was so called.
NOTES
GODS OF THE EARTH. Par. 5, page 1.
Occultists, from" Paracelsus to Elephas Levi, divide the na
ture spirits into gnomes, sylphs, salamanders, undines; or
earth, air, fire, and water spirits. Their emperors, accord
ing to Elephas, are named Cob, Paralda, Djin, Hicks re
spectively. The gnomes are covetous, and of the melancholic
temperament. Their usual height is but two spans, though
they can elongate themselves into giants. The sylphs are
capricious, and of the bilious temperament. They are in size
and strength much greater than men, as becomes the people
of the winds. The salamanders are wrathful, and in tem
perament sanguine. In appearance they are long, lean, and
dry. The undines are soft, cold, fickle, and phlegmatic. In
appearance they are like man. The salamanders and sylphs
have no fixed dwellings.
It has been held by many that somewhere out of the void
there is a perpetual dribble of souls ; that these souls pass
through many shapes before they incarnate as men hence
the nature spirits. They are invisible except at rare mo
ments and times; they inhabit the interior elements, while
we live upon the outer and the gross. Some float perpetu
ally through space, and the motion of the planets drives
them hither and thither in currents. Hence some Rosicru-
cians have thought astrology may foretell many things ; for
a tide of them flowing around the earth arouses there, emo
tions and changes, according to its nature.
Besides those of human appearance are many animal and
bird-like shapes. It has been noticed that from these latter
entirely come the familiars seen by Indian braves when they
go fasting in the forest, seeking the instruction of the spir
its. Though all at times are friendly to men to some men
344 NOTES
"They have," says Paracelsus, "an aversion to self-con
ceited and opinionated persons, such as dogmatists, scien
tists, drunkards, and gluttons, and against vulgar and quar
relsome people of all kinds ; but they love natural men, who
are simple-minded and childlike, innocent and sincere, and
the less there is of vanity and hypocrisy in a man, the
easier will it be to approach them; but otherwise they are
as shy as wild animals."
SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON. Pages- 14 and 40.
Many in Ireland consider Sir Samuel Ferguson their
greatest poet. The English reader will most likely never
have heard his name, for Anglo-Irish critics, who have found
English audience, being more Anglo than Irish, have been
content to follow English opinion instead of leading it, in all
matters concerning Ireland.
CUSHEEN Loo. Page 35.
Forts, otherwise raths or royalties, are circular ditches
enclosing a little field, where, in most cases, if you dig down
you come to stone chambers, their bee-hive roofs and walls
made of unmortared stone. In these little fields the ancient
Celts fortified themselves and their cattle, in winter retreat
ing into the stone chambers, where also they were buried.
The people call them Dane s forts, from a misunderstanding
of the word Danan (Tuath-de-Danan). The fairies have
taken up their abode therein, guarding them from all dis
turbance. Whoever roots them up soon finds his cattle fall
ing sick, or his family or himself. Near the raths are
sometimes found flint arrow-heads ; these are called "fairy
darts," and are supposed to have been flung by the fairies,
when angry, at men or cattle.
LEGEND OF KNOCKGBAFTON. Page 43.
Moat does not mean a place with water, but a tumulus or
barrow. The words La Luan Da Hort agus Da Dardeen
are Gaelic for "Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday too." Da
llena is Thursday. Story-tellers, in telling this tale, says
Croker, sing these words to, the following music according
to Croker, music of very ancient kind : .
NOTES
345
Da Lu an, da Mort, da Lu - an, da I^lort, da
Lu-an, da Mort, au- gus da Dar-dine. Da Lu an, da Mojt, da
=*===
a=EE3=i=5==g===
Mr. Douglas Hyde has heard the story in Connaught,
with the song of the fairy given as "Peean Peean daw feean,
Peean go leh agus leffin" [pighin, pighin, da phighin, pighin
go ieith agus leith phighin], which in English means, "a
penny, a penny, twopence, a penny and a half, and a half
penny."
STOLEN CHILD. Page 62.
The places mentioned are round about Sligo. Further
Rosses is a very noted fairy locality. There is here a little
point of rocks where, if anyone falls asleep, there is da^srer
of their waking silly, the fairies having carried off their
souls.
SOLITARY FAIRIES. Page 85.
The trooping fairies wear green jackets, the solitary ones
red. On the red jacket of the Lepracaun, according to
McAnally, are seven rows of buttons seven buttons in each
row. On the western coast, he says, the red jacket is cov
ered by a frieze one, and in Ulster the creature wears a
cocked hat, and when he is up to anything unusually mis
chievous, leaps on to a wall and spins, balancing himself on
346 NOTES
the point of the hat with his heels in the air. McAnally
tells how once a peasant saw a battle between the green
4w;ket fairies and the red. When the green jackets began
to win, so delighted was he to see the green above the red,
Ke gave a great shout. In a moment all vanished, and he
was flung into the ditch.
BANSHEE S CRY. Page 116.
Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall give the following notation of
\fche cry :
OMENS. Page 116.
We have other omens beside the Banshee and the Dulla-
han and the Coach-a-Bower. I know one family where
death is announced by the cracking of a whip. Some fam
ilies are attended by phantoms of ravens or other birds.
When McManus, of 48 celebrity, was sitting by his dying
brother, a bird of vulture-like appearance came through the
window and lighted on the breast of the dying man. The
two watched in terror, not daring to drive it off. It
crouched there, bright-eyed, till the soul left the body. It
was considered a most evil omen. Lefanu worked this into
a tale. I have good authority for tracing its origin to
McManus and his brother.
A WITCH TRIAL. Page 156.
The last trial for witchcraft in Ireland there were never
very many is thus given in MacSkimin s History of Car-
riclcfergus : "1711, March 31st, Janet Mean, of Braid-island ;
Janet Latimer, Irish-quarter, Carrickfergus; Janet Millar,
Scotch-quarter, Carrickfergus; Margaret Mitchel, Kilroot ;
Catharine M Calmond, Janet Listen, alias Seller, Elizabeth
NOTES 347
Seller, and Janet Carson, the four last from Island Magee,
were tried here, in the County of Antrim Court, for witch
craft."
Their alleged crime was tormenting a young woman,
called Mary Dunbar, about eighteen years of age, at the
house of James Hattridge, Island Magee, and at other places
to which she was removed. The circumstances sworn on
the trial were as follows :
"The afflicted person being, in the month of February,
1711, in the house of James Hattridge, Island Magee (which
had been for some time believed to be haunted by evil
spirits), found an apron on the parlor floor, that had been
missing some time, tied with five strange knots, which she
loosened.
"On the following day she was suddenly seized with a vio
lent pain in her thigh, and afterward fell into fits and rav
ings ; and, on recovering, said she was tormented by several
women, whose dress and personal appearance she minutely
described. Shortly after, she was again seized with the like
fits, and on recovering she accused five other women of tor
menting her, describing them also. The accused persons
r cing brought from different parts of the country, she ap
peared to suffer extreme fear and additional torture as they
approached the house.
"It was also deposed that strange noises, as of whistling,
scratching, etc., were heard in the house, and that a sul
phureous smell was observed in the rooms ; that stones, turf,
and the like were thrown about the house, and the cover
lets, etc., frequently taken off the beds and made up in the
shape of a corpse; and that a bolster once walked out of a
room into the kitchen with a night-gown about it. It like
wise appeared in evidence that in some of her fits three
strong men were scarcely able to hold her in the bed ; that
at times she vomited feathers, cotton yarn, pins, and but
tons ; and that on one occasion she slid off the bed and was
laid on the floor, as if supported and drawn by an invin
cible power. The afflicted person was unable to give any
evidence on the trial, being during that time dumb, but had
no violent fit during its continuance."
In defence of the accused, it appeared that they were
mostly sober, industrious people, who attended public wor
ship, could repeat the Lord s Prayer, and had been known
to pray both in public and private; and that some of them
had lately received communion.
Judge Upton charged the jury, and observed on the regv-
348 NOTES
lar attendance of accused at public worship ; remarking that
he thought it improbable that real witches could so far
retain the form of religion as to frequent the religious wor
ship of God, both publicly and privately, which had been
proved in favor of the accused. He concluded by giving his
opinion "that the jury could not bring them in guilty upon
the sole testimony of the afflicted person s visionary images."
He was followed by Judge Macarthy, who differed from him
in opinion, "-and thought the jury might, from the evidence,
bring them in guilty," which they accordingly did.
This trial lasted from six o clock -in the morning till two
in the afternoon ; and the- prisoners were sentenced to be
imprisoned twelve months, and to stand four times in the
pillory of Carrickfergus.
Tradition says that the people were much exasperated
against these unfortunate persons, who were severely pelted
in the pillory with boiled cabbage stalks and the like, by
which one of them had an eye beaten out.
T YEEB-NA-N-OGE. Page 214.
"Tir-na-n-6g," Mr. Douglas Hyde writes, " The Country
of the Young, is the place where the Irish peasant will tell
you geabhaedh tu an sonas aer pighin, you will get happi
ness for a penny, so cheap and common it will be. It is
sometimes, but not often, called Tir-na-hoige; the Land of
Youth. Crofton Croker writes it, Thierna-na-noge, which is
an unfortunate mistake of his, Thierna meaning a lord, not
a country. This unlucky blunder is, like many others of the
same sort where Irish words are concerned, in danger of
becoming stereotyped, as the name of lona has been, from
mere clerical carelessness."
THE GONCONEB OR GANCANAGH [GEAN-CANACH]. Page 222.
O Kearney, a Louthman, deeply versed in Irish lore, writes
of the gean-canach (love-talker) that he is "another diminu
tive being of the same tribe as the Lepracaun, but, unlike
him, he personated love and idleness, and always appeared
with a dudeen in his jaw in lonesome valleys, and it was his
custom to make love to shepherdesses and milk-maids. It
was considered* very unlucky to meet him, and whoever was
known to have ruined his fortune by devotion to the fair
sex was said to have met a gean-canach. The dudeen, or
NOTES 349
ancient Irish tobacco pipe, found in our raths, etc., is still
popularly called a gean-canach s pipe."
The word is not to be found in dictionaries, nor does this
spirit appear to be well known, if known at all, in Con-
nacht. The word is pronounced gdncon&gh.
23
In the MS. marked R.I.A. in the Roy* Ir. Ac., there
E. 13
is a long poem describing such a fairy hurling-match as the
one in the story, only the fairies described as the shiafjh, or
host, wore plaids and bonnets, like Highlanders. After the
hurling the fairies have a hunt, in which the poet takes
part, and they swept with great rapidity through half Ire
land. The poem ends with the line:
" S gur shiubhail me na cuig cuig cuige s gan funi acht
buachallan buidhe;"
"and I had travelled the five provinces with nothing under
me but a yellow bohalawn (rag-weed)." [Note ~by Mr.
Douglas. Hyde."]
FATHER JOHN O HABT. Page 236.
Father O Rorke is the priest of the parishes of Ballysa-
dare and Kilvarnet, and it is from his learnedly and faith
fully and sympathetically written history of these parishes
that I have taken the story of Father John, who had been
priest of these parishes, dying in the year 1739. Coloony ia
a village in Kilvarnet.
Some sayings of Father John s have come down. Once
when he was sorrowing greatly for the death of his brother,
the people said to him, "Why do you sorrow so for your
brother when you forbid us to keen?" "Nature." he an
swered, "forces me, but ye force nature." His memory and
influence survives, in the fact that to the present day there
has been no keening in Coloony.
He was a friend of the celebrated poet and musician,
Carolan.
SHONEEN AND SLEIVEEN. Page 236.
Shoneen is the diminutive of shone [Ir. Se6ri]. There are
two Irish names for John one is Shone, the other is
Shaicn [Ir. Sedffhari], Shone is the "grandest" of the two,
and is applied to the gentry. Hence Shoneen means "a lit
tle gentry John," and is applied to upstarts and "big"
farmers, who ape the rank of gentleman.
350 NOTES
Bleiveen, not to be found in the dictionaries, is a comical
Irish word (at least in Connaught) for a rogue. It prob
ably conies from slial)h, a mountain, meaning primarily a
mountaineer, and in a secondary sense, on the principle that
mountaineers are worse than anybody else, a rogue. I am
indebted to Mr. Douglas Hyde for these details, as for many
others.
DEMON CAT. Page 245.
In Ireland one hears much of Demon Cats. The father
of one of the present editors of the Fortnightly had such a
cat, say county Dublin peasantry. One day the priest dined
with him, and objecting to see a cat fed before Christians,
said something over it that made it go up the chimney in a
flame of fire. "I will have the law on you for doing such a
thing to my cat," said the father of the editor. "Would
you like to see your cat?" said the priest. "I would," said
he, and the priest brought it up, covered with chains,
through the hearth-rug, straight out of hell. The Irish devil
does not object to these undignified shapes. The Irish devil
is not a dignified person. He has no whiff of sulphureous
majesty about him. A centaur of the ragamuffin, jeering
and shaking his tatters, at once the butt and terror of the
saints !
A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY. Page 285.
Carleton says : "Of the gray stone mentioned in this leg
end, there is a very striking and melancholy anecdote to
be told. Some twelve or thirteen years ago, a gentleman in
the vicinity of the site of it was building a house, and, in
defiance ot the legend and curse connected with it, he re
solved to break it up and use it. It was with some diffi
culty, however, that he could succeed in getting his laborers
to have anything to do with its mutilation. Two men, how
ever, undertook to blast it, but, somehow, the process of
ignition being mismanaged, it exploded prematurely, and one
of them was killed. This coincidence was held as a fulfil
ment of the curse mentioned in the legend. I have heard
that it remains in that mutilated state to the present day,
no other person being found who had the hardihood to touch
it. This stone, before it was disfigured, exactly resembled
that which the country people term a miscaun of butter,
which is precisely the shape of a complete prism, a circum-
NOTES 351
stance, no doubt, which, in the fertile imagination of the
old Senachies, gave rise to the superstition annexed to it."
SOME AUTHORITIES ON IRISH FOLK-LORE.
Croker s Legends of the South of Ireland. Lady Wilde s
Ancient Legends of Ireland. Sir William Wilde s Irish
Popular Superstitions. McAnally s Irish Wonders. Irish
Folk-Lore, by Lageniensis. Lover s Legends and Stories of
the Irish Peasantry. Patrick Kennedy s Legendary Fictions
of the Irish Celts, Banks of the Boro, Legends of Mount
Leinster, and Banks of the Duffrey; Carleton s Traits and
Stories of the Irish Peasantry; and the chap-books, Royal
Fairy Tales, Hibernian Tales, and Tales of the Fairies. Be
sides these there are many books on general subjects, con
taining stray folk-lore, such as Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall s
Ireland; Lady Chatterton s Rambles in the South of Ire
land; Gerald Griffin s Tales of a Jury-room; and the Lead-
beater Papers. For banshee stories see Harrington s Rec
ollections and Miss Lef ami s Memoirs of my Grandmother.
In O Donovan s introduction to the Four Masters are sev
eral tales. The principal magazine articles are in the
Dublin and London Magazine for 1825-1828 (Sir William
Wilde calls this the best collection of Irish folk-lore in
3xistence) ; and in the Dublin University Magazine for 1839
and 1878, those in 78 being by Miss Maclintock. The Folk-
Lore Journal and the Folk-Lore Record contain much Irish
folk-lore, as also do the Ossianic Society s publications and
the proceedings of the Kilkenny Archaeological Society. Old
Irish magazines, such as the Penny Journal. Neirry Maga
zine, and Duffy s Sixpenny Magazine and Hibernian Maga
zine, have much scattered through them. Among the peas
antry are immense quantities of ungathered legends and
beliefs.
THE END.
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