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Sayings Stories and Verses About
the Leprechaun
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I could not passThe half-door
where
the cobbler sat in view
Nor figure me the wize Leprechaun
In square-cut, old-world reds and buckle-shoes
Bent at his work in the hedge-side, and know
Just how he tapped his brogue, and twitched
His wax-end this and that way, both with wrists
And elbows. In the rich June fields,
Where the ripe clover drew the bees,
And the tall quakers trembled, and the West Wind
Lolled his half-holiday away- ARABIAN NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
By W. E. Henley, Scribner's magazineVolume 14,
Issue 1 Charles Scribner's Sons,
July, 1893 New York .pp. 56-63
Menu
Augustine Martin
"Indeed, Stephens does not seek to denigrate the fulfillment of such
desires of human nature as hunger, love, happiness, and a need for
security. But he demonstrates that leprechauns have a greater value than a
"Prime Minister or a stockbroker, because a leprechaun dances and makes
merry, while a Prime Minister knows nothing of these virtues."-Source:Augustine
Martin, James Stephens: A Critical Study (Totowa, N. J.: Rowman and
Littlefield, 1977), p. 38.
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THE PASSING OF THE SHEE.
And did you meet them riding down
A mile away from Gaiway town?
Wise childish eyes of Irish grey,
You must have seen them, too, to-day.
And did you hear wild music blow
All down the boreen, long and low,
The tramp of ragweed-horses’ feet,
And Una’s laughter, wild and sweet?
Oh, once I met them riding down
A hillside far from Gaiway town;
But not alone I walked that day
To hear the fairy pipers play.
They lighted down, the kindly Shee,
They builded palace-walls for me;
They built me bower, they built me bawn,
Ganconagh, Banshee, Leprechaun.
They builded me a chamber fair,
Roofed in with music, walled by air,
And in its garden, fair to sight,
Green wallflowers, windflowers, brown
and white.
Bouchaleen bree, if you should see
One riding with the happy Shee,
One with blue eyes and yellow hair,
Less light of heart than many there—
Thy hermitage is peopled with the dreams
That gladden sleep;
Here Fancy dailies with delirious themes
Mid shadows deep,
Till eyes, unused to tears, with wild
emotions weep.
We rise, alas, to find our visions fled!
But thine remain.
Night weaves of golden harmonies the
thread,
And fills thy brain
With joys that overflow in Love’s awaken-
ing strain.
Yet thou, from mortal influence apart,
Seek’st naught of praise;
The empty plaudits of the emptier heart
Taint not tby lays;
Thy Maker’s smile alone thy tuneful
bosom sways.
Teach me, thou warbling eremite, to sing
Thy rhapsody;
Nor borne on vain ambition’s vaunting
wing,
But led of thee,
To rise from earthly dreams to hymn
Eternity.
JOHN B. TABB., In: The Living age ... / Volume
213, Issue 2759: p498.
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The Little Cobblers
The Leprechauns?
Here is another tale that I remember hearing my Grandad tell.
I cannot recall the place that he said that it happened happened
. It was somewhere out in the West of Ireland, if I remember rightly.
It appears that there was a family by the name of McGuiness. They owned
a little farm of about 30 acres and not such a lot of stock, just a few
chickens, a horse, a few pigs and a cow.
The family consisted of the husband James, his Wife and five children.
They were anything but well to
do, starving most of the time. Things went from bad to worse and the
husband, from worrying fell sick and died.
The Widow decided to carry on for the sake of the children and DID manage
to get by, through being frugal and thrifty. But she never could buy anything,
like clothes, shoes, Etc, that were necessary to a large family like hers.
Of course she could patch up the childrens children's
clothes
when it was needed, which was almost all of the time, but their shoes
were what worried her most. and they were in bad shape, what with holes
in them and being lop-sided at the heel and
some without any sole at all.
One night, after the children were all put to bed, she looked at their
shoes and the tears came into her eyes. What could she do?. The Summertime
was alright for the tots. They could run
around barefooted and no ham harm befall them, but here
was
Winter only a few weeks away and she did'nt want them catching a heavy
cold which might develop into something more serious, that eventually,
might mean opening the grave and
putting them alonside her beloved Husband, James.
In desperation she sat down and tried to figure a way out. Then suddenly
a thought came to her. She had once heard that the little men, the Leprechauns,
were cobblers by trade and if
they knew of her plight they surely would help her. Anyway she knelt
down and with all the faith and sincerity in her voice, she told them of
her situation and begged them to help her.
She was so sincere in her plea that something within her assured her,
somehow, that her prayer would be answered. With light heart she started
to sweep up the kitchen floors which, as
most Irishmen in the rural districts in Ireland know, was just the
simple earth.
She wanted the place to be clean when the little men arrived, as she
surely knew they would.
She went to the cupboard, and although there was'nt much there, she
fixed up a little meal for the fairies in case they were hungry. And then
after putting two fresh candles on the tables
she took the five little pairs of dilapidated shoes and a worn pair
of her own and placed them in front of the fire. This done she went, in
a happy mood
to bed, to await the results that the morning would bring.
During the night, she fancied she heard the strains of soft music down
below in the kitchen. But thinking she was dreaming she went to sleep again.
Again she woke up with the music in
her ears and unable to sleep further, and with a bit of curiosity in
her mind, she got out of bed and tip-toed to the head of the stairs. Then
not able to restrain her curiosity further, softly
came down, step by step, noticing that the music seemed to be getting
louder.
The door to the kitchen was closed when she reached it. She pushed it
open a crack and peeked in and lo and behold what did she see?.
The candles had all burned out but the room was full of a strange light,
where it came from she could'nt see, and right in the middle of the floor,
dancing around six brand NEW pairs of
shoes, were forty, or maybe, fifty little fairies having the time of
their lives. On the table were all the plates, -- where she had piled the
food,-empty. She stood spellbound for quite a while,
and, knowing that if she went into the room she'd break the spell and
perhaps, cause hard luck to fall on her, she went softly back to her room.
In the morning when she came down, there
were the new shoes, just as she saw them during the night and the marks
of little feet, in the earthen floor, all around them.
Needless to say, to the day of her death she will always uphold the
Leprechauns and list them first in her category of friends. -Mr Hale Sen,
Transcribed by A Fitzpatrick , from George Hale. October 19th. 1938. 1.P.M.
American Life Histories: Manuscripts from the Federal Writers' Project,
1936-1940
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An Old Woman who was Housekeeper to the Donnellans:
I'll tell you how the fortune of the family began.
It was Tully O'Donnellan was riding home from Ballinasbe, or some other
place, and it was raining, and he came to a river that was in flood, and
there used to be no bridges in those times.
And when he was going to ride through the river, he saw the greasa
leprechaun on the bank, and he offered him a lift, and he stooped down and
lifted him up behind him on the horse.
And when he got near where the castle was, he saw it in flames before him.
And the leprechaun said, "Don't fret after it but build a new castle in
the place I'll show you, about a stone's
throw from the old one." "I have no money to do that," said Tully
Donnellan. "Never mind that," said the leprechaun, "but do as I bid you,
and you'll have plenty." So he did as he bade
him, and the morning after he went to live in the new castle, when he went
into that room that has the stone with his name on it now, it was full up
of gold, and you could be turning it like
you'd turn potatoes into a shovel. And when the children would go into the
room with their father and mother, the nurses would put bits of wax on
their shoes, the way bits of the gold
would stick to them. And they had great riches and smothered the world
with it, and they used to shoe their horses with silver. It was in racing
they ran through it, and keeping hounds
and horses and horns.
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Mrs. Day:
My own sons are all for education and read all books and they wouldn't
believe now in the stories the old people used to tell. But I know one
Finnegan and his wife that went to
Esserkelly churchyard to cry over her brother that was dead. And all of a
sudden there came a pelt of a stone against the wall of the old church and
no one there. And they never went
again, and they had no business to be crying him and it not a funeral.
Francis, my son that's away now, he was out one morning before the
daybreak to look at a white heifer in the field. And there he saw a little
old woman, and she in a red cloak - crying,
crying, crying. But he wouldn't have seen that if he had kept to natural
hours.
There were three girls near your place, and they went out one time to
gather cow-dung for firing. And they were sitting beside a small little
hill, and while they were there, they heard a
noise of churning, churning, in the ground beneath them. And as they
listened, all of a minute, there was a noggin of milk standing beside
them. And the girl that saw it first said, "I'll not
drink of it lest they might get power over me." But the other girl said,
"I'll bring it home and drink it." And she began to ridicule them. And
because of she ridiculing them and not believing in them, that night in
bed she was severely beaten so that she
wasn't the better of it for a long time.
Often they'll upset a cart in the middle of the road, when there's no
stone nor anything to upset it And my father told me that sometimes after
he had made the hay up into cocks, and on a
day without a breath of wind, they'd find it all in the next field lying
in wisps. One time too the cart he was driving went over a leprechaun-and
the old woman in the cart had like to faint
The Spinning Woman.
No, I never seen them myself, and I born and bred in the same village as
Michael Barrett. But the old woman that lives with me, she does be telling
me that before she came to this part she
was going home one night, where she was tending a girl that was sick, and
she had to cross a hill forth. And when she came to it, she saw a man on a
white horse, and he got to the
house before her, and the horse stopped at the back-door. And when she got
there and went in, sure enough the girl was gone.
I never saw anything myself, but one night I was passing the boreen near
Kinvara, and a tall man with a tall hat and a long coat came out of it. He
didn't follow me, but he looked at me for
a while, and then he went away.
And one time I saw the leprechaun. It's when I was a young woman and there
was black frieze wanting at Ballylee, and in those days they all thought
there could no black frieze be spun
without sending for me. So I was coming home late in the evening. and
there I saw him setting by the side of the road, in a hollow between two
ridges. He was very small, about the height
of my knee, and wearing a red jacket, and he went out of that so soon as
he saw me. I knew nothing about him at that time. The boys say if I'd got
a hold of his purse I'd be rich for ever.
And they say he should have been making boots; but he was more in dread of
me than I of him, and had his instruments gathered up and away with him in
one second.
There used to be a lot of things seen, but someway the young people go
abroad less at night, and I'm thinking the souls of some of those may be
delivered by this time.
There was a boy looked out of the door, and he saw a woman milking the
cow. But after, when he went to milk her, he found as much milk as ever
there was.
-From: Lady A. Gregory Beliefs of the West of Ireland
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leprechaun : Definition
SYLLABICATION:
lep·re·chaun
PRONUNCIATION:
lp´r-kn´´, -kôn´´
NOUN : One of a race of elves in Irish folklore who can reveal hidden treasure
to those who catch them.
ETYMOLOGY:
Irish Gaelic luprachán, alteration of Middle Irish luchrupán,
from Old Irish luchorpán, luchorp, lú-, small, legwh- + corp, body, from Latin corpus, See
kwrep-. + -án, diminutive suff.
OTHER FORMS:
lep´re·chaun´´ish — ADJECTIVE
WORD HISTORY:
Nothing seems more Irish than the leprechaun; yet hiding within the word
leprechaun
is a word from another language entirely. If we look back beyond Modern
Irish Gaelic
luprachán and Middle Irish luchrupán to Old Irish luchorpán,
we can see the
connection. Luchorpán is a compound of Old Irish lú, meaning
“small,” and the Old
Irish word corp, “body.” Corp is borrowed from Latin corpus (which we know
from
habeas corpus). Here is a piece of evidence attesting to the deep influence
of Church
Latin on the Irish language. Although the word is old in Irish it is fairly
new in English,
being first recorded in 1604.
To
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In a lowering in the land there lived a leprechaun. --Stanley and Angelee
Anderson
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The Leprechaun
by
Robert Dwyer Joyce (1830-83)
In a shady nook one moonlit night,
A leprahaun I spied
In scarlet coat and cap of green,
A cruiskeen by his side.
'Twas tick, tack, tick, his hammer went,
Upon a weeny shoe,
And I laughed to think of a purse of gold,
But the fairy was laughing too.
With tip-toe step and beating heart,
Quite softly I drew night.
There was mischief in his merry face,
A twinkle in his eye;
He hammered and sang with tiny voice,
And sipped the mountain dew;
Oh! I laughed to think he was caught at last,
But the fairy was laughing, too.
As quick as thought I grasped the elf,
"Your fairy purse," I cried,
"My purse?" said he, "'tis in her hand,
That lady by your side."
I turned to look, the elf was off,
And what was I to do?
Oh! I laughed to think what a fool I'd been,
And, the fairy was laughing too.
To
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Objective Students will use their knowledge of force and motion to make their own
working leprechaun traps.
Materials
stuff such as- (paper towel rolls, empty containers, tin foil, little
boxes various shapes and sizes, scrap paper, string,
sandwich bags, etc.)
tape, glue, stapler
markers
Method About a week before doing this activity send a note
home requesting stuff. You'll be amazed at what parents
send over. The more the better!
Have students dig through all the junk and decide what
they will need for their leprechaun trap.
Students build their traps. (about a half a day is required to
do this )
Let students to search through the stuff as they need
more items.
About half way through gather back as a class and discuss the
strategies that some students are using, ie: If the
leprechaun comes in here...this will happen...
Point out and try to encourage the use of force and
motion.
Ask students to set their traps right before they go
home.
Lock the doors when all of them have left, set each trap
off and deposit a chocolate gold coin under it!
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WHAT should I be but a prophet and a liar,
Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose
father was a friar?
Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water,
What should I be but the fiend's god-daughter?
And who should be my playmates but the adder
and the frog,
That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog?
And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar,
But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass,
maybe,
As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby,
You will find such flame at the wave's weedy ebb
As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother's web,
But there comes to birth no common spawn
From the love of a priest for a leprechaun,
And you never have seen and you never will see
Such things as the things that swaddled me!
After all's said and after all's done,
What should I be but a harlot and a nun?
In through the bushes, on any foggy day,
My Da would come a-swishing of the drops away,
With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth,
A-mumbling of his beads for all that he was worth.
And there sit my Ma, her knees beneath her
chin,
A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in,
And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying
That would mean just the opposite of all that he was praying!
He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of
Matin,
He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin,
He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil,
And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up
the devil!
From:A Few
Figs from Thistles: Poems and Sonnets,
Edna St. Vincent Millay; Harper & Brothers, 1922
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THE FAIRY REEL
(John Watt)
Last night i dreamed that I went strollin down the fairy glen
I dreamed I saw the little folk in Ireland once again
I watched them have a ceili around the fairy tree
a hundred thousand welcomes the fairies gave to me.
cho: Come and see the fairies round the fairy tree
it is the finest spectacle that eyes could ever see
you'll see them dance so merrily, they bounce from toe to heel
come and see the fairies, dance the fairy reel.
They wore shoes of golden leather, cloaks of emerald green
upon their little heads they wore are a scarlet red cobeen
they wore rings of sparkling diamonds, bangles oh so grand
what a wealth of treasure they must have in fairy land.
The king was dancing with the queen, the princess with the prince
and all the other fairies joined in an Irish dance
the music played so sweetly as the moonlit shone
they danced and played together this bunch of leprechauns
When I awoke I lay and thought of all that I had seen
and all those little leprechauns dancing in my dreams
thats why ths Irish people sing and dance and joke
they take a good example from the little fairy folk.
(repeat chorus)
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WISHES THREE
Oh, there lived in old Ireland, a wee little man,
And he went by the name of a leprechaun.
A fairy shoemaker none other was he
And he had the power of wishes three.
Now, I'm tellin' you sure as the day I was born
'Tis meself that would boldly walk up and say,
"Bless the friends that I love, and the friends that love me,
And the friends of me friends, that's me wishes three!"
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The Fairy Finder
Source: Samuel Lover,
Legends and Stories of Ireland
"FINDING a fortune" is a phrase often heard amongst the peasantry of
Ireland. If any man from small beginnings arrives at wealth, in a
reasonable course, of time, the fact is scarcely ever
considered as the result of perseverance, superior intelligence or
industry; it passes as a by-word through the country that "found a fortin'
"; whether by digging up "a crock o' goold" in
the ruins of an old abbey, or by catching a Leprechaun and forcing him to
"deliver or die," or discovering it behind an old wainscot, is quite
immaterial; the when or the where is equally
unimportant, and the thousand are satisfied with the rumour: "He found a
fortin'. " Besides, going into particulars destroys romance--and the Irish
are essentially romantic--and their love
of wonder is more gratified in considering the change from poverty to
wealth as the result of superhuman aid, than in attributing it to the mere
mortal causes of industry and prudence.
The crone of every village has plenty of stories to make her hearers
wonder how fortunes have been arrived at by extraordinary short outs; and
as it has been laid down as an axiom,
"That there never was a fool who had not a greater fool to admire him," so
there never was an old woman who told such stories without plenty of
listeners.
Now, Darby Kelleher was one of the latter class, and there was a certain
collioch [old woman] who was an extensive dealer in the marvellous, and
could supply "wholesale, retail, and for
exportation," any customer such as Darby Kelleher, who not only was a
devoted listens; but also made an occasional offering at the cave of the
sibyl, in return for her oracular
communications. This tribute generally was tobacco, as the collioch was
partial to chewing the weed; and thus Darby returned a quid pro quo,
without having any idea that he was
giving a practical instance of the foregoing well-known pun.
Another constant attendant at the but of the hag was Oonah Lenehan,
equally prone to the marvellous with Darby Kelleher, and quite his equal
in idleness. A day never passed without
Darby and Oonah paying the old woman a visit. She was sure to be "at
home," for age and decrepitude rendered it impossible for her to be
otherwise, the utmost limit of her ramble from
her own chimney corner being the seat of sods outside the door of her hut,
where, in the summer-time, she was to be found, so soon as the sunbeams
fell on the front of her abode, and
made the seat habitable for one whose accustomed vicinity to the fire
rendered heat indispensable to comfort.
Here she would sit and rock herself to and fro in the hot noons of July
and August, her own appearance and that of her wretched cabin being in
admirable keeping. To a fanciful beholder
the question might have suggested itself, whether the hag was made for the
hovel or it for her; or whether they bad grown into a likeness of one
another, as man and wife are said to do,
for there were many points of resemblance between them. The tattered
thatch of the hut was like the straggling hair of its mistress, and Time,
that had grizzled the latter, had covered the
former with grey lichens. To its mud walls, a strong likeness was to be
found in the tint of the old woman's shrivelled skin; they were both
seriously out of the perpendicular; and the rude
mud and wicker chimney of the edifice having toppled over the gable, stuck
out, something in the fashion of the doodeen, or short pipe, that
projected from the old woman's upper
storey; and so they both were smoking away from morning till night; and to
complete the similitude sadly, both were poor, both lonely, both fast
falling to decay.
Here were Darby Kelleher and Oonah Lenehan sure to meet every day. Darby
might make his appearance thus:
"Good morrow, kindly, granny."
"The same to you, avic," mumbled out the crone.
"Here's some 'baccy for you, granny."
"Many thanks to you, Darby. I didn't lay it out for seeing you so airly
the day."
"No, nor you wouldn't neither, only I was passin' this-a-way, runnin' an
errand for the Squire and I thought I might as well step in and ax you how
you wor."
"Good boy, Darby."
"Throth, an' it's a hot day that's in it, this blessed day. Phew! Faix,
it's out o' breath I am, and mighty hot intirely; for I was runnin' a'most
half the way, bekase it's an arrand, you see, and
the Squire tould me to make haste, and so I did, and wint acrase the
fields by the short cut; and as I was passin' by the ould castle, I
remimbered what you tould me a while ago; granny,
about the crock o' goold that is there for sartin, if anyone could come
upon it."
"An' that's thrue indeed, Darby avick--and never heerd any other the
longest day I can remimber."
"Well, well! think o' that! Oh, thin, it's he that 'ill be the lucky
fellow that finds it."
"Thrue for you, Darby; but that won't be antil it is laid out for some one
to rise it."
"Sure, that's what I said to myself often; and why mightn't it be my
chance to be the man that it was laid out for to find it."
"There's no knowin'," mumbled the crone mysteriously, as she shook the
ashes out of her tobacco-pipe, and replenished the doodeen with some of
the fresh stock Darby had presented.
"Faix, an' that's thrue, sure enough. Oh, but you've a power o' knowledge,
granny! Sure enough, indeed, there's no knowin'; but they say there's
great virtue in dhrames."
"That's ondeniable, Darby," said the hag; "and by the same token maybe
you'd step into the house and bring me out a bit o' live turf to light my
pipe."
"To be sure, granny;" and away went Darby to execute the commission.
While he was raking from amongst the embers on the hearth a piece of turf
sufficiently "alive" for the purpose, Oonah made her appearance outside
the hut, and gave the usual cordial
salutation to the old woman. Just as she had done her civility, out came
Darby, holding the bit of turf between the two extremities of an osier
twig, bent double for the purpose of forming
a rustic tongs.
"Musha, an' is that you, Darby?" said Oonah.
"Who else would it be?" said Darby.
"Why, you tould me over an hour agone, down there in the big field, that
you wor in a hurry."
"And so I am in a hurry, and wouldn't be here, only I jist stepped in to
say 'God save you!' to the mother here, and to light her pipe for her, the
craythur."
"Well, don't be standin' there lettin' the coal go black out, Darby," said
the old woman; "but let me light my pipe at wanst."
"To be sure, granny," said Darby, applying the morsel of lighted ember to
the bowl of her pipe until the process of ignition had been effected. "And
now, Oonah, my darlint, if you're so
sharp an other people, what the dickens brings you here, when it is mindin'
the geese in the stubbles you ought to be, and not here? What would the
misthress say to that, I wondher?"
"Oh, I left them safe enough, and they're able to take care of themselves
for a bit, and I wanted to ax the granny about a dhrame I had.'
"Sure, so do I," said Darby; "and you know first come first sarved is a
good ould sayin'. And so, granny, you own to it that there's a power o'
vartue in dhrames?"
A long-drawn whiff of the pipe was all the hag vouchsafed in return.
"Oh, thin, but that's the iligant tabaccy! Mush; but it's fine an' sthrong,
and takes the breath from one a'most, it's so good. Long life to you,
Darby--paugh!"
"You're kindly welkim, granny. An' as I was sayin' about the dhrames--you
say there's a power o' vartue In them."
"Who says agin it?" said the hag authoritatively, and looking with
severity on Darby.
"Sure, an' it's not me you'd suspect o' the like? I was only goin' to say
that myself had a mighty sharp dhrame last night, and sure, I kem to ax
you about the maynin' av it."
"Well, avic, tell us your dhrame," said the hag, sucking her pipe with
Increased energy.
"Well, you see," said Darby, "I dhremt I was goin' along a road, and that
all of a suddint I kern to crass roads, and, you 'know, there's grate
vartue in crass roads."
"That's thrue, avourneen! Paugh! go an."
"Well, as I was sayin', I kem to the crass roads, and soon afther I seen
four walls. Now, I think the four walls manes the ould castle."
"Likely enough, avic."
"Oh," said Oonah, who was listening with her mouth as wide open as if the
faculty of hearing lay there, instead of in her ears, "sure, you know the
ould castle has only three walls, and
how could that be it?"
"No matther for that," said the crone, "It ought to have four, and that's
the same thing."
"Well, well! I never thought o' that," said Oonah, lifting her hands in
wonder. "Sure enough, so it ought!"
"Go on, Darby," said the hag.
"Well, I thought the greatest sight o' crows ever I seen flew out o' the
castle, and I think that must mane the goold there is in it!"
"Did you count how many there was?" said the hag, with great solemnity.
"Faith, I never thought o' that," said Darby, with an air of vexation,
"Could you tell me itself, wor they odd or even, avic?"
"Faix, an' I could not say for sartin."
"Ah, that's it!" said the crone, shaking her head in token of
disappointment. "How can I tell the mayin' o' your dhrame, if you don't
know how it kem out exactly?"
"Well, granny, but don't you think the crows was likely for goold?"
"Yis--if they flew heavy."
"Throth, thin, an' now I remimber, they did fly heavy, and I said to
myself there would be rain soon, the crows was flyin' so heavy."
"I wish you didn't dhrame o' rain, Darby."
"Why, granny? What harm is it?"
"Oh, nothin'; only it comes in a crass place there."
"But it doesn't spile the dhrame, I hope?"
"Oh no. Go an."
"Well, with that, I thought I was passin' by Doolins the miller's, and
says he to me: 'Will you carry home this sack o' male for me?' Now, you
know, male is money, every fool knows."
"Right, avic."
"And so I tuk the sack o' male an my shouldher, and I thought the woight
iv it was killin' me, just as if it was a sack o' goold."
"Go an, Darby."
"And with that I thought I met with a cat, and that, you know, manes an
ill-nathur'd woman."
"Right, Darby."
"And says she to me: 'Darby Kelleher,' says she, 'you're mighty yollow.
God bless you! is it the jandhers you have?' says she. Now wasn't that
mighty sharp? I think the jandhers manes
goold?"
"Yis; if it was the yollow jandhers you dhremt iv, but not the black
jandhers."
"Well, it was the yollow jandhers."
"Very good, avic; that's makin' a fair offer at it."
"I thought so myself," said Darby, "more by token when there was a dog in
my dhrame next; and that's a find, you know."
"Right, avic."
"And he had a silver collar an him."
"Oh, bad luck to that silver collar, Darby. What made you dhrame o' silver
at all?"
"Why, what harm?"
"Oh, I thought you knew better nor to dhrame o'silver. Why, cushla machree,
sure, sliver is a disappointment, all, the world over."
"Oh, murther!" said Darby, in horror, "and is my dhrame spylte [spoiled]
by that blackguard collar?"
"Nigh hand, indeed, but not all out. It would be spylte only for the dog,
but the dog is a find, and so it will be only a frindly disappointment, or
maybe a fallin' out with an acquaintance."
"Oh, what matther," said Darby. "So the dhrame is to the good still?"
"The dhrame is to the good still; but tell me if you dhremt o' three
sprigs o' sparemint at the ind iv it?"
"Why, thin, now I could not say for sartin, bekase I was nigh wakin'
at'the time, and the dhrame was not so clear to me."
"I wish you could be sartin o' that."
Why, I have it an my mind that there was sparemint in it, bekase I thought
there was a garden in part iv it, and the sparemint was likely to be
there."
"Sure enough, and so you did dhrame o' the three sprigs o' sparemint.
"Indeed, I could a'most make my book-oath that I dbremt iv it. I'm partly
sartin, if not all out."
"Well, that's raysonable. It's a good dhrame, Darby."
"Do you tell me so!"
"Deed an' it is, Darby. Now wait till the next quarther o' the new moon,
and dhrame again then, and you'll see what'll come of it."
"By dad, an' I will, granny. Oh, but it's you has taken the maynin' out of
it beyant everything; and faix, if I find the crock, it's yourself won't
be the worse iv it; but I must be goin', granny,
for the Squire bid me to hurry, or else I would stay longer wid you. Good
mornin' to you--good mornin!, Oonah! I'll see you to-morrow sometime,
granny." And off went Darby, leisurely
enough.
The foregoing dialogue shows the ready credulity of poor Darby; but it was
not in his belief of the "vartue of dhrames" that his weakness only lay.
He likewise had a most extensive
creed as regarded fairies of all sorts and sizes, and was always on the
look-out for a Leprechaun. Now, a Leprechaun is a fairy of peculiar
tastes, properties and powers, which it is
necessary to acquaint the reader with. His taste as to occupation is very
humble, for he employs himself in making shoes, and he loves retirement,
being fond of shady nooks where he
can sit alone and pursue his avocation undisturbed. He is quite a hermit
in this respect, for there is no instance on record of two Leprechauns
being seen together.
But he is quite a beau in his dress, notwithstanding, for he wears a red
square-cut coat, richly laced with gold, waistcoat and inexpressible of
the same, cocked hat, shoes and buckles. He
has the property of deceiving, in so great a degree, those who chance to
discover him, that none has ever yet been known whom he has not
overreached in the "keen encounter of the
wits," which his meeting with mortals always produces. This is occasioned
by his possessing the power of bestowing unbounded wealth on whoever can
keep him within sight until be is
weary of the surveillance, and gives the ransom demanded; and to this end
the object of the mortal who is so fortunate as to surprise one is to
seize him, and never withdraw his eye from
him, until the threat of destruction forces the Leprechaun to produce the
treasure; but the sprite is too many for us clumsy- witted earthlings, and
is sure, by some device, to make us
avert our eyes, when he vanishes at once.
This Enchanted Cobbler of the meadows Darby Kelleher was always on the
look-out for. But though so constantly on the watch for a Leprechaun, be
never had got even within sight of
one, and the name of the Fairy Finder was bestowed upon him in derision.
Many a trick, too, was played on him. Sometimes a twig stuck amongst long
grass, with a red rag hanging upon
it, has betrayed Darby into cautious observance and approach, until a
nearer inspection, and a laugh from behind some neighbouring hedge, have
dispelled the illusion. But this, though
often repeated, did not cure him, and no turkey- cock had a quicker eye
for a bit of red, or flew at it with greater eagerness, than Darby
Kelleher; and he entertained the belief that one day
or other he would reap the reward of all his watching, by finding a
Leprechaun in good earnest.
But that was all in the hands of Fate, and must be waited for. In the
meantime, there was the castle and the "crock o' goold" for a certainty,
and under the good omens of the "sharp
dhrame" he had, he determined on taking that affair in hand at once. For
his companion in the labour of digging, and pulling the ponderous walls of
the castle to pieces, be selected
Oonah, who was, in the parlance of her own class, "a brave, two-handed,
long-sided jack," and as great a believer in dreams and omens as Darby
himself; besides, she promised profound
secrecy, and agreed to take a small share of the treasure for her reward
in assisting to discover it.
For about two months Darby and Oonah laboured in vain; but at last,
something came of their exertions. In the course of their work, when they
occasionally got tired, they would sit
down to rest themselves and talk over their past disappointments and
future hopes. Now it was during one of these intervals of repose that
Darby, as he was resting himself on one of the
coign-stones of the ruin, suddenly discovered--that he was in love with
Oonah.
Now Oonah happened to be thinking much in the same sort of way about Darby
at that very moment, and the end of the affair was, that Darby and Oonah
were married the Sunday
following.
The calculating Englishman will ask, Did be find the treasure before be
married the girl? The unsophisticated boys of the sod never calculate on
these occasions; and the story goes that
Oonah Lenehan was the only treasure Darby discovered in the old castle.
Darby's acquaintances were in high glee on the occasion, and swore he got
a great lob--for Oonah, be it
remembered, was on the grenadier scale, or what in Ireland is called "the
full of a door," and the news spread over the country in some such fashion
as this--
"Arrah, an' did you hear the news?"
"What news!"
"About Darby Kelleher."
"What of him?"
"Sure, be found a fairy at last."
"Tare-an-ounty!"
"Thruth I'm tellin' you. He's married to Oonah Lenehan."
"Ha! ha! ha! by the powers, it's she that is the rale fairy! Musha, more
power to you, Darby, but you've cotched it in airnest now!"
But the fairy he had caught did not satisfy Darby so far as-to make him
give up the pursuit for the future. He was still on the watch for a
Leprechaun; and one morning as he was going to
his work, he stopped suddenly on his path, which lay through a field of
standing corn, and. his eye became riveted on some object with the most
eager expression. He crouched and
crawled, and was making his way with great caution towards the point of
his attraction, when he was visited on the back of the head with a thump
that considerably disturbed his visual
powers, and the voice of his mother, a vigorous old beldame, saluted his
ear at the same time with a hearty "Bad luck to you, you lazy thief; what
are you slindging there for, when it's
mindin' your work you ought to be?"
"Whist! whist! mother," said Darby, holding up his hand in token of
silence.
"What do you mane, you omadhaun?"
"Mother, be quiet, I bid you! Whist! I see it."
"What do you see?"
"Stoop down here. Straight forninst you, don't you see it as plain as a
pikestaff?"
"See what?"
"That little red thing."
Well, what of it?"
"See there, how it stirs. Oh, murther! it's goin' to be off afore I can
catch it. Oh, murther! why did you come here at all, makin' a noise and
frightenin' it away?"
"Frightenin' what, you big fool?"
"The Leprechaun there. Whisht! it is quiet agin."
"May the d--l run a-huntin' wid you for a big omadhaun. Why, you born
nath'ral, is it that red thing over there you mane?"
"Yis; to be sure it is. Don't spake so loud, I tell you."
"Why, bad scran to you, you fool, it's a poppy, it is, and nothin' else;"
and the old woman went over to the spot where it grew, and plucking it up
by the roots, threw it at Darby, with a
great deal of abuse into the bargain, and bade him go mind his work,
instead of being a "slindging vagabone, as he was."
It was some time after this occurrence that Darby Kelleher had a meeting
with a certain Doctor Dionysius MacFinn, whose name became much more
famous than it had hitherto been,
from the wonderful events that ensued in consequence.
Of the doctor himself it becomes necessary to say something. His father
was one Paddy Finn; and had been so prosperous in the capacity of a cow
doctor, that his son Denis, seeing the
dignity of a professor in the healing art must increase in proportion to
the nobleness of the animal he operates upon, determined to make the
human, instead of the brute creation, the
object of his care. To this end he was assisted by his father, who had
scraped some money together in his humble calling, and having a spice of
ambition in him, as well as his aspiring
son, he set him up in the neighbouring village as an apothecary. Here
Denny enjoyed the reputation of being an "iligant bone-setter"; and
cracked skulls--the result of fair fighting and
whisky fevers--were treated by him on the most approved principles. But
Denny's father was gathered unto his fathers, and the son came into the
enjoyment of all the old man's money.
This, considering his condition, was considerable, and the possession of a
few hundred pounds so inflated the apothecary, that he determined on
becoming a "doctor" at once. For this
purpose he gave up his apothecary's shop, and set off--where do you
think?--to Spain.
Here he remained for some time, and returned to Ireland, declaring himself
a full physician of one of the Spanish universities; his name of Denny
Finn transformed into Doctor Dionysius
MacFinn, or, as his neighbours chose to call it, MacFun, and fun enough
the doctor certainly gave birth to. The little money he once had was spent
in his pursuit of professional
honours, and he returned to his native place with a full title and an
empty purse, and his practice did not tend to fill it. At the same time,
there was a struggle to keep up appearance.. He
kept a horse, or what he intended to be considered as such, but 'twas only
a pony, and if he had but occasion to go to the end of the village on a
visit, the pony was ordered on service.
He was glad to accept an invitation to dinner whenever he had the luck to
get one, and the offer of a bed even was sure to be accepted, because that
insured breakfast the next morning.
Thus poor Doctor Dionysius made out the cause. Often asked to dinner from
mingled motives of kindness and fun, for while a good dinner was a welcome
novelty to the doctor, the
absurdities of his pretension and manner rendered him a subject of
unfailing diversion to his entertainers. Now, he had gone the round of all
the snug farmers and country gentlemen in
the district, but at last be had the honour to receive an invitation from
the Squire himself, and on the appointed day Doctor Dionysius bestrode his
pony, attired in the full dress of a
Spanish physician, which happens to be red from head to foot, and
presented himself at "The Hall."
When a groom appeared to take his "horse" to the stable, the doctor
requested that his steed might be turned loose into the lawn, declaring it
'to be more wholesome for the animal than
being cooped up in a house. The saddle and bridle were accordingly
removed, and his desire complied with.
The doctor's appearance in the drawing-room, attired as he was, caused no
small diversion, but attention was speedily called off' from him by the
announcement of dinner, that electric
sound that stimulates a company at the same instant, and supersedes every
other consideration whatsoever. Moreover, the Squire's dinners were
notoriously good, and the doctor
profited largely by the same that day, and let no opportunity of filling
his glass with the choice wines that surrounded him. This he did to so
much purpose, that the poor little man was
very far gone when the guests were about to separate.
At the doctor's request the bell was rung, and his horse ordered, as the
last remaining few of the company were about to separate, but everyone of
them had departed, and still there was
no announcement of the steed being at the door. At length a servant made
his appearance, and said it was impossible to catch the doctor's, pony.
"What do you mean by 'catch'?" said the Squire. "Is it not in the stable?"
"No, sir."
Here an explanation ensued, and the Squire ordered a fresh attempt to be
made to take the fugitive; but though many fresh hands were employed in
the attempt, the pony baffled all their
efforts--every manoeuvre usually resorted to on such occasions was vainly
put in practice. He was screwed up into corners, but no sooner was he
there than, squealing and flinging up
his heels, be broke through the blockade,, Again his flank was turned by
nimble runners, but the pony was nimbler still; a sieve full of oats was
presented as an inducement, but the pony
was above such vulgar tricks, and defied all attempts at being captured.
This was the mode by which the doctor generally secured the offer of a
bed, and he might have been successful in this instance but for a knowing
old coachman who was up to the trick;,
and out of pure fun, chose to expose it; so, bringing out a huge
blunderbuss, he said: "Never mind; just let me at him, and I'll engage
I'll make him stand."
"Oh; my good man," said the doctor, "pray don' take so much trouble - just
let me go with you;" and proceeding to the spot where the pony was still
luxuriating on the rich grass of the
Squire's lawn, he gave a low whistle, and the little animal walked up to
his owner with as much tractability as a dog. The saddling and bridling
did not take much time, and the doctor was
obliged to renounce his hopes of a bed and the morrow's breakfast, and
ride home--or homewards, I should say--for it was as Iittle his destiny as
his wish to sleep at home that night, for
he was so overpowered with his potations that he could not guide the pony,
and the pony's palate was so tickled by the fresh herbage that he wished
for more of it, and finding a gate
that led to a meadow, open by the roadside, he turned into the field,
where he very soon turned the doctor into a ditch, so that they had bed
and board between them to their heart's
content.
The doctor and his horse slept and ate profoundly all night, and even the
"rosy-fingered morn," as the poets have it, found them in the continuance
of their enjoyment. Now it happened
that Darby Kelleher was passing along the path that lay by the side of the
ditch where the doctor was sleeping, and on perceiving him, Darby made as
dead a set as ever pointer did at
game.
The doctor, be it remembered, was dressed in red. Moreover, he was a
little man, and his gold-laced hat and ponderous shoe-buckles completed
the resemblance to the being that Darby
took him for. Darby was at last certain that be had discovered a
Leprechaun, and amaze so riveted him to the spot, and anxiety made his
pulse beat so fast, that he could not move nor
breathe for some seconds. At last he recovered himself, and stealing
stealthily to the spot where the doctor slept, every inch of his approach
made him more certain of the reality of his
prize; and when he found himself within reach of it, he made one furious
spring, and flung himself on the unfortunate little man, fastening his
tremendous fist on his throat, at the same
time exclaiming in triumph: "Hurrah! By the hoky, I have you at last!"
The poor little doctor, thus rudely and suddenly aroused from his tipsy
sleep, looked excessively bewildered when he opened his eyes, and met the
glare of ferocious delight that Darby
Kelleher cast upon him, and be gurgled out: "What's the matter?" as well
as the grip of Darby's hand upon his throat would permit him.
"Goold's the matther," shouted Darby. "Goold! goold! goold!"
"What about goold?" says the doctor.
"Goold--yollow goold--that's the matther."
"Is it Paddy Goold that's taken ill again?" said the doctor, rubbing his
eyes. "Don't choke me, my good man. I'll go immediately," said he,
endeavouring to rise.
"By my sowl, you won't," said Darby, tightening his hold.
"For mercy's sake, let me go!" said the doctor.
"Let you go, indeed!--ow! ow!"
"For the tender mercy--"
"Goold! goold! you little vagabone!"
"Well I'm going, if you let me."
"Divil a step;" and here he nearly choked him.
"Oh, murder! For God's sake!"
"Whisht, you thief! How dar you say God, you divil's imp!" The poor little
man between the suddenness of his waking and the roughness of the
treatment he was under, was in such a
state of bewilderment, that for the first time he now perceived he was
lying amongst grass and under bushes, and rolling his eyes about, he
exclaimed:
"Where am l? God bless me!"
"Whisht! you little cruked ottomy - by the holy farmer, if you say God
agin, I'll cut your throat."
"What do you hold me so tight for?"
"Just for fear you'd vanish, you see. Oh, I know you well."
"Then, my good man, if you know me so well, treat me with proper respect,
if you please."
"Divil send you respect. Respect, indeed! that's a good thing. Musha, bad
luck to your impidence, you thievin' ould rogue."
"Who taught you to call such names to your betters, fellow? How dare you
use a professional gentleman so rudely?"
"Oh, do you hear this! - a professional gintleman! Arrah, do you think I
don't know you, you little ould cobbler?"
"Cobbler! Zounds, what do you mean, you ruffian? Let me go, sirrah!" and
he struggled violently to rise.
"Not a taste, 'scure, to the step you'll go out o' this till you give me
what I want."
"What do you want, then?"
"Goold--goold!"
"Ho! ho! so you're a robber, sir. You want to rob me, do you?"
"Oh, what robbery it is! Throth, that won't do, as cunnin' as you think
yourself; you won't frighten me that way. Come, give it at wanst--you may
as well. I'll never let go my grip o' you
antil you hand me out the goold."
"'Pon the honour of a gentleman, gold nor silver is not in my company. I
have fourpence-halfpenny in my breeches' pocket, which you are welcome to
if you let go my throat."
"Fourpence-ha'pny! Why, thin, do you think me sitch a gom, all out, as to
put me off wid fourpence-hap'ny. Throth, for three straws, this minit I'd
thrash you within an inch o' your life for
your impidence. Come, no humbuggin'; out with the goold!"
"I have no gold. Don't choke me. If you murder me, remember there's law in
the land, You'd better let me go."
"Not a fut. Gi' me the goold, I tell you, you little vagabone!" said
Darby, shaking him violently.
"Don't murder me, for Heaven's sake!"
"I will murdher you if you don't give me a hatful o' goold this minit."
"A hatful of gold! Why, who do you take me for?"
"Sure, I know you're a Leprechaun, you desaiver o' the world!"
"A Leprechaun!" said the doctor, in mingled indignation and amazement. "My
good man, you mistake."
"Oh, how soft I am! 'Twon't do, I tell you. I have you, and I'll hould
you; long I've been lookin' for you, and I cotch you at last, and by the 'tarnal
o' war, I'll have your life or the goold."
"My good man, be merciful--you mistake--I'm no Leprechaun--I'm Doctor
MacFinn."
"That won't do either! You think to desaive me, but 'twon't do--just as if
I didn't know a docthor from a Leprechaun. Gi' me the goold, you ould
chate!"
"I tell you, I'm Doctor Dionysius MacFinn. Take care what you're
about--there's law in the land; and I think I begin to know you. Your name
is Kelleher!"
"Oh, you cunnin' ould thief! Oh, thin you are the complate ould rogue;
only I'm too able for you. You want to freken me, do you? Oh, you little
scrap o' deception, but you are deep!"
"Your name is Kelleher--I remember. My good fellow, take care; don't you
know I'm Doctor MacFinn--don't you see I am?"
"Why, thin, but you have the dirty yollow pinched look iv him, sure
enough; but don't I know you've only put in an you to desaive me; besides,
the docthor has dirty ould tatthers o'
black clothes an him, and isn't as red as a sojer like you."
"That's an accident, my good man."
"Gi' me the goold this minit, and no more prate wid you."
"I tell you, Kelleher--"
"Hould your tongue, and gi' me the goold."
"By all that's--"
"Will you give it?"
"How can I?"
"Very well. You'll see what the ind of it 'ill be," said Darby, rising,
but still keeping his iron grip of the doctor. "Now, for the last time, I
ask you, will you gi' me the goold? or by the powers
o' wildfire, I'll put you where you'll never see daylight antil you make
me a rich man."
"I have no gold, I tell you."
"Faix, thin, I'll keep you till you find it," said Darby, who tucked the
little man under his arm, and ran home with him as fast as be could.
He kicked at his cabin door for admittance when he reached home,
exclaiming:
"Let me in! let me in! Make haste; I have him."
"Who have you?" said Oonah, as she opened the door.
"Look at that!" said Darby in triumph. "I cotch him at last!"
"Weira, thin, it is a Leprechaun, it is?" said Oonah.
"Divil a less," said Darby, throwing down the doctor on the bed, and still
holding him fast. "Open the big chest, Oonah, and we'll lock him up in
it!, and keep him antil he gives us the
goold."
"Murder! murder!" shouted the doctor. "Lock me up in a chest!"
"Gi' me the goold, thin, and I won't."
"My good man, you know I have not gold to give."
"Don't b'live him, Darby jewel," said Oonah. "Them Leprechauns is the
biggest liars in the world."
"Sure, I know that!" said Darby, "as well as you. Oh, all the throuble
I've had wid him; throth, only I'm aiqual to a counsellor for knowledge,
he'd have namplushed me long ago."
"Long life to you, Darby dear!"'
"Mrs. Kelleher," said the doctor.
"Oh, Lord!" said Oonah, in surprise, "did you ever hear the likes o'
that--how he knows my name!"
"To be sure he does," said Darby; "and why not? Sure, he's a fairy, you
know."
"I'm no fairy, Mrs. Kelleher. I'm a doctor--Doctor MacFinn."
"Don't b'live him, darlin'," said Darby. "Make haste and open the chest."
"Darby Kelleher," said the doctor, "let me go, and I'll cure you whenever
you want my assistance."
"Well, I want your assistance now," said Darby, "for I'm very bad this
minit wid poverty; and if you cure me o' that, I'll let you go."
"What will become of me?" said the doctor in despair, as Darby carried him
towards the big chest which Oonah had opened.
"I'll tell you what'll become o' you," said Darby, seizing a hatchet that
lay within his reach. "By the seven blessed candles, if you don't consint
before night to fill me that big chest full o'
goold, I'll chop you as small as aribs [herbs] for the pot." And Darby
crammed him into the box.
"Oh, Mrs. Kelleher, be merciful to me," said the doctor, "and whenever
you're sick I'll attend you."
"God forbid!" said Oonah; "it's not the likes o' you I want when I'm sick,
Attind me, indeed! bad luck to you, you little imp, maybe you'd run away
with my babby, or it's a Banshee you'd
turn yourself into, and sing for my death. Shut him up, Darby; it's not
loocky to be houldin' discoorse the likes iv him."
"Oh!" roared the doctor, as his cries were stifled by the lid of the chest
being closed on him. The key was turned, and Oonah sprinkled some holy
water she had in a little bottle that hung
in one corner of the cabin over the look, to prevent the fairy having any
power upon it.
Darby and Oonah now sat down in consultation on their affairs, and began
forming their plans on an extensive scale, as to what they were to do with
their money - for have it they
must--now that the Leprechaun was fairly in their power. Now and then
Darby would rise and go over to the chest, very much as one goes. to the
door of a room where a naughty child
has been locked up, to know "if it be good yet," and giving a thump on the
lid, would exclaim; "Well, you little vagabone, will you gi' me the goold
yet?"
A groan and a faint answer of denial was all the reply be received.
"Very well, stay there; but remimber, if you don't consint before night,
I'll chop you to pieces." He then got his bill-hook, and began to sharpen
it close by the chest, that the Leprechaun
might hear him; and when the poor doctor heard this process going forward,
be felt more dead than alive; the horrid scraping of the iron against the
stone being interspersed with.
occasional interjectional passages from Darby, such as: "Do you hear that,
you thief? I'm gettin' ready for you." Then away he'd rasp at the
grindstone again, and as he paused to feel the
edge of the weapon, exclaim: "By the powers, I'll have it as sharp as a
razhir"
In the meantime, it was well for the prisoner that there were many large
chinks in the cheat, or suffocation from his confinement would have
anticipated Darby's pious intention, upon him;
and when he found matters likely to go so hard with him, the thought
struck him at last of affecting to be what Darby mistook him for and
regaining his freedom by stratagem.
To this end, when Darby had done sharpening his bill-hook, the doctor
replied, in answer to one of Darby's summonses for gold, that be saw it
was in vain longer to deny giving it, that
Darby was too cunning for him, and that he was ready to make him the
richest man in the country.
"I'll take no less than the full o' that chest," said Darby.
"You'll have ten times the full of' it, Darby," said the doctor, "if
you'll only do what I bid you."
"Sure, I'll do anything."
"Well, you must first prepare the mystificandherumbrandherum."
"Tare-an-ouns, how do I know what that is?"
"Silence, Darby Kelleher, and attend to me: that's a magical ointment,
which I will show you how to make; and whenever you want gold, all you
have to do is to rub a little of it on the
point of a pick-axe or your spade, and dig wherever you please, and you
will be sure to find treasure."
"Oh, think o' that! Faix, an I'll make plenty of it when you show me, How
is it made?"
"You must go into the town, Darby, and get me three things, and fold them
three times in three rags torn out of the left side of a petticoat that
has not known water for a year."
"Faith, I can do that much, anyhow," said Oonah, who began tearing the
prescribed pieces out of her under-garment.
"And what three things am I to get you?"
"First bring me a grain of salt from a house that stands at cross roads."
"Crass roads!" said Darby, looking significantly at Oonah.
"By my sowl, but it's my dhrame's comin' out!"
"Silence, Darby Kelleher," said the doctor, with solemnity. "Mark me,
Darby Kelleher;" and then he proceeded to repeat a parcel of gibberish to
Darby, which he enjoined him to
remember and repeat again; but as Darby could not, the doctor said he
should only write it down for him, and tearing a leaf from his
pocket-book, he wrote in pencil a few words, stating
the condition he was in, and requesting assistance. This slip of paper he
desired Darby to deliver to the apothecary in the town, who would give him
a drug that would complete the
making of the ointment.
Darby went to the apothecary's as he was desired, and it happened to be
dinner-time when he arrived. The apothecary had a few friends dining with
him, and Darby was detained until
they chose to leave the table and go in a body to liberate the poor little
doctor. He was pulled out of the chest amidst the laughter of his
liberators and the fury of Darby and Oonah, who
both made considerable fight against being robbed of their prize. At last
the doctor's friends got him out of the house, and proceeded to the town
to supper, where the whole party kept
getting magnificently drunk, until sleep plunged them into dizzy dream, of
Leprechauns and Fairy Finders.
The doctor for some days swore vengeance against Darby, and threatened a
prosecution; but his friends recommended him to let the matter rest, as it
would only tend to make the affair
more public, and get him nothing but laughter for damages.
As for Darby Kelleher, nothing could ever persuade him that it was not a
red Leprechaun he had caught, which by some villainous contrivance on the
Fairy's part changed itself into the
semblance of the doctor; and he often said the great mistake he made was "givin'
the little vagabone so much time, for that if he done right he'd have set
about cutting his throat at
wanst."
To return to the top click here
THE LEPRECHAUN AND THE
GENIUS
HIBERNIA'S Genius passed one day
Through one of her sweet
mountain vallies,
Whose emerald Verdure is begot
Where Sun with Show'r so frequent dallies.
Turning around a granite rock,
She popp'd upon a shady nook,
Where, whisp'ring to some blushing flow'rs,
There lisp'd an amatory brook.
It was the very place for love,
For vows, that never should be broken,
And forty other silly things,
That never, never should be spoken.
Fancy her wonder then, when in
This sweetest " place for lovers only,"
She saw a Cobbler — making love ?
No; — making brogues — and all alonee.
Alonee, proudee, like a
child,
None more conceited could you meet;
Though his pride was not for his own,
But for his neighbour's greater feet.
Like most conceited men, too, he
Was little, and like little men
Was very active too; in short,
With him't was, " Cut and come again."
And on he cut, and on he stitch'd,
And seem'd to be in greatest gig,
For every stitch he gave his brogue,
He put another in his wig.1
Sips from a bottle oft were taken,
In which, from mountain side, a few
Bright dew-drops from the heath were shaken ;
In fact his drink was, mountain dew.
The Genius, — (by the by 't is odd
What lots of geniuses we boast here ;)
First, as a lady always ought,
Look'd round about to see the coast clear.
For she, in sooth a single lady,
The monster Scandal well might gobble her,
If in a solitary glen
She was seen talking to a Cobbler. '
T'is true that he was very little,
And age upon his face did linger;
But there 's much mischief, it is said,
Even in the devil's little finger.
And years don't always virtue bring,
But he was very, very old,
And very, very, ve—ry little ;
In short, the truth may 's well be told :
He was not more than two
feet high,
With three-cock'd hat, red inexpressible,
Which, lucky dog, was all his own,
Seeing he had, at home, no
Jezebel.
A coat to match, and a
flapp'd vest,
Over his body — somewhat logy,—
At once, to cut description short,
He was just like a cut-down fogy.2
She saw he was a Leprechaun,
And at the drams he swill'd galore of,
As he was of the "world of spirits,"
Her wonder gradually wore off.
He was a spirit himself—'twas but
A kindred link, in social feeling,
With other spirit that he wove,
And so from weaving went to reeling.
But to my tale : —The Genius now
Thought she might make her fortune featly,
If she could catch the Leprechaun,
And make him hand the
hundreds neatly.
You 'll wonder that a
genius, thus,
The filthy lust of gold could lure ;
But pray remember, ere you blame,
That geniuses are always
poor.
And here, the fate I might
lament
Of Irish genius in particular,
Whose shaft of Hope is sadly bent
From its original
perpendicular.
The deadly Demon of Decay
Has had a fatal sweeping rap at all;
Not only is the column bent,
But where the d—l is our
capital ?
Little is left — and what
remains
How few there are that will " embark " it,
Except in steam-packets, to feed
The interest of a foreign
market.
But this is foreign to my
tale,
And bordering upon political
Economy — on which I don't
Intend to become analytical.
But it accounts the further,
why
The nymph, of whom my story 's told,
Should strive, her tatter'd robe of green
To 'broider with the fairy's
gold.
She stole upon him, but the
sprite
Was up to trap — not lurking blindly —
And, as he finish'd a heel-tap,
Look'd up, and said, " Good
morrow kindly."
Whether the heel-tap of his
glass
It was, or the heel-tap of leather
He finished, I don't know, — but it
Was either — or p'rhaps both
together. "
Good morrow," said the
Genius, though
She wish'd he had not been so circum- -
Spect,— for she thought the lad to clutch,
Altho' she did not mean to
Burk him.
She ask'd politely after 's health,
And, touching next upon the news,
Inquir'd what 't was he work'd upon ;
He
said, " A pair of dead man's shoes." "
A
dead man's shoes ? " she said ; — " why he
Won't want them ? "— With a devilish air, "
No," said the sprite; " but I can get
What price I fix on, from his heir."
"Well, that 's more sensible," said she, "
Than making brogues for living folk,
For while I'm to the fore, indeed,
That would be an exceeding joke."
"You ? " said the Leprechaun ; " I 'd beat
All women cobblers put together;
You ladies may have finer souls,
But match me at an upper-leather! "
For cobbler's duty I will yield
To no brogue-maker in the nation;
My work is super, ma'am." — Said she, "
Indeed 't is super—erogation. "
Give o'er thy toil, thou senseless sprite;
Thy labour 's vain. You ought to see '
T'is useless making brogues for those
Whose brogues are ready-made by me. "
Your brogues are good, I don't deny ;
But though you made them ne'er so stout,
They can't endure as long as mine,
For those I give will ne'er wear out. "
Take up your awl, good man, and trudge;
And as for bragging — Voce Sotto,
Your upper-leathers down must go,
And give up mending heels in toe toe.
" Take up your awl, I say,
and go."
She hoped he 'd turn, and she could catch him ;
But he 'd a trick worth two o' that,
For, as to tricking, who
could match him ? "
Maybe you 'd give it me,"
says he; " '
T'is there, behind you, on the stone."
She turn'd — and his awl was not there, —
When she look'd back —her all was gone.
1 " Stitching your
wig " means getting tipsy.
2 The slang
name for a pensioner of the Royal Hospital in
Ireland. The name will soon be obsolete, as the establishment
is to be broken up, and transferred to Chelsea.
-From:Legends and Stories
of Ireland.,Samuel Lover, 1902.
To
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CLEVER
TOM AND THE LEPRECHAUN
OLIVER Tom Fwich-(i.e. Fitz)pathrick, as people used to call him, was the eldest
son o' a comfortable farmer, who lived nigh hand to Morristown-Lattin, not far
from the Liftey. Tom. was jist turned o' nine-an'-twinty, whin he met wid the
follyin' advinthur, an' he was as cliver, clane, tight, good-lukin' a boy as any
in the whole county Kildare. One fine day in harvist (it was a holiday) Tom was
takin' a ramble by himsilf thro' the land, an' wint sauntherin' along the sunny
side uv a hidge, an' thinkin' in himsilf, whare id be the grate harm if people,
instid uv idlin' an' goin' about doin' nothin' at all, war to shake out the hay,
an' bind and stook th' oats that was lyin' an the ledge, 'specially as the
weather was raither brokm uv late, whin all uv a suddint he h'ard a clackin'
sort o' n'ise jist a little way fornint him, in the hidge. "Dear me," said Tom,
"but isn't it now raaly suiprisin' to hear the stonechatters singin' so late in
the saison." So Tom stole an, goin' on the tips o' his toes to thry iv he cud
git a sight o' what was makin' the n'ise, to see iv he was right in his guess.
The n'ise stopt; but as Tom hiked sharp thro' the bushes, what did he see in a
neuk o' the hidge but a brown pitcher that might hould about a gallon an' a haff
o' liquor; an' bye and bye he seen a little wee deeny dawny bit iv an ould man,
wid a little motty iv a cocked hat stuck an the top iv his head, an' a deeshy
daushy leather apron hangin' down afore him, an' he pulled out a little wooden
stool, an' stud up upon it, and dipped a little piggen into the pitcher, an' tuk
out the full av it, an' put it beside the stool, an' thin sot down undher the
pitcher, an' begun to work at put' a heelpiece an a bit iv a brogue jist fittin'
fur himself.
"Well, by the powers!" said Tom to himsilf, "I aften hard tell o' the
Leprechauns, an', to tell God's thruth, I nivir rightly believed in thim, but
here 'a won o' thim in right airnest; if I go knowin'ly to work, I 'm a med man.
They say a body must nivir take their eyes aff o' thim, or they'll
escape."
Tom now stole an a little farther, wid his eye fixed an the little man jist as a
cat does wid a mouse, or, as we read in books, the rattlesnake does wid the
birds he wants to inchant. So, whin he got up quite close to him, "God bless
your work, honest man," sez Tom. The little man raised up his head, an' "Thank
you kindly," sez he. "I wundher you 'd be workin' an the holiday," sez Tom.
"That's my own business, an' none of your's," was the reply, short enough.
"Well, may be, thin, you'd be civil enough to tell us, what you 'ye got in the
pitcher there," sez Tom. "Aye, will I, wid pleasure," sez he: "it's good beer."
"Beer!" sez Tom: "Blud an' turf man, whare did ye git it?" "Whare did l git it
is it? why l med it to be shure; an' what do ye think I med it av?" "Divil a one
o' me knows," sea Tom, "but av malt, I 'spose; what ilse?" "Tis there you 're
out; I med it av haith." "Av haith!" sez Tom, burstin' out laughin'. "Shure you
don't take me to be sich an omedhaun as to b'lieve that?" "Do as ye plase," sez
he, "but what I tell ye is the raal thruth. Did ye nivir hear tell o' the
Danes?" "To be shure I did," sea Tom, "warn't thim the chaps we gev such a
lickin' whin they thought to take Derry frum huz?" "Hem," sez the little man
dhryly, "is that all ye know about the matther?" "Well, but about thim Danes,"
sea Tom. "Why all th' about thim is," said he, "is that whin they war here they
taught huz to make beer out o' the haith, an' the saicret 's in my family ivir
sense." "Will ye giv a body a taste o' yer beer to thry?" sez Tom. "I 'll tell
ye what it is, young man, it id be fitther fur ye to be lukin' afther yer
father's propirty thi'n to be botherin' dacint, quite people wid yer foolish
questions. There, now, while you 're idlin' away yer time here, there 's the
cows hay' bruk into th' oats, an' are knockin' the corn all about."
Tom was taken so by surprise wid this, that he was jist an the very point o'
turnin' round, whin he recollicted himsilf. So, afeard that the like might
happin agin, he med a grab at the Leprechaun, an' cotch him up in his hand, but
in his hurry he ovirset the pitcher, and spilt all the beer, so that he couldn't
git a taste uv it to tell what sort it was. He thin swore what he wouldn't do to
him iv he didn't show him whare his money was. Tom luked so wicked, an' so
bloody-minded, that the little man was quite frightened. "So," sez he, "come
along wid me a couple o' fields aff an' I 'll show ye a crock o' gould." So they
wint, an' Tom held the Leprechaun fast in his hand, an' nivir tuk his eyes frum
aff uv him, though they had to crass hidges an' ditches, an' a cruked bit uv a
bog (fur the Leprechaun seemed, out o' pure mischief, to pick out the hardest
and most conthrairy way), till at last they come to a grate field all full o'
balyawn buies, [a] an' the Leprechaun pointed to a big bolyawn, an'
sez he, "Dig undher that bolyawn, an' you 'II git a crock chuck full o' goulden
guineas."
Tom, in his hurry, had nivir minded the bringin' a fack [b] wid him, so he
thought to run home and fetch one, an' that he might know the place agin, he tuk
aff one o' his red garthers, and tied it round the bolyawn. "I s'pose," sez the
Leprechaun, very civilly, "ye 've no further occashin fur me?" "No," sez Tom,
"ye may go away now, if ye like, and God speed ye, an' may good luck attind ye
whareivir ye go." "Well, good bye to ye, Tom Fwichpathrick," sed the Leprechaun,
"an' much good may do ye wid what ye 'II git."
So
Tom run fur the bare life, till he come home, an' got a fack, an' thin away wid
him as hard as he could pilt back to the field o' bolyawns; but whin he got
there, lo an' behould, not a bolyawn in the field, but had a red garther, the
very idintical model o' his own, tied about it; an' as to diggin' up the whole
field, that was all nonsinse, fur there was more nor twinty good Irish acres in
it. So Tom come home agin wid his fack an his shouldher, a little cooler nor he
wint; and many's the hearty curse he gev the Leprechaun ivry time he thought o'
the nate turn he sarved him. [c]
[a] Lit. Yellow-stick, the
ragwort or ragweed, which grows to a great size in Ireland.
[b] A kind of spade with but
one step, used in Leinster.
[c] All that is said in this
legend about the beer is a pure fiction, for we never heard of a Leprechaun
drinking or smoking. It is, however, a tradition of the peasantry, that the
Danes used to make beer of the heath. It was a Protestant farmer in the county
of Cavan, that showed such knowledge of the siege of Derry; the Catholic
gardener who told us this story, knew far better. It is also the popular belief
that the Danes keep up their claim on Ireland, and that a Danish father, when
marrying his daughter, gives her a portion in Ireland.
To
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THE
LEPRECHAUN IN THE GARDEN
THERE's a sort a' people that every body must have met wid sumtime or another. I
mane thim people that purtinds not to b'lieve in things that in their hearts
they do b'lieve in, an' are mortially afeard o' too. Now Failey [a]
Mooney was one o' these. Failey (iv any o' yez knew him) was a rollockin',
rattlin', divil-may-care sort ov a chap like--but that 'a neither here nor
there; he was always talkin' one nonsinse or another; an' among the rest o' his
fooleries, he purtinded not to b'lieve in the fairies, the Leprechauns, an' the
Poocas, an' he evin sumtimes had the impedince to purtind to doubt o' ghosts,
that every body b'lieves in, at any rate. Yit sum people used to wink an' luk
knowin' whin Failey was gostherin', fur it was obsarved that he was mighty shy
o' crassin' the foord a' Ahnamoe afther nightfall; an' that whin onst he was
ridin' past the ould church o' Tipper in the dark, tho' he'd got enough o'
pottheen into him to make any man stout, he med the horse trot so that there was
no keepin' up wid him, an' iv'ry now an' thin he'd throw a sharp luk-out ovir
his lift shouldher.
Well, one night there was a parcel o' the neighbours sittin' dhrinkin' an'
talkin' at Larry Rielly's public-house, an' Failey was one o' the party. He was,
as usual, gittin' an wid his nonsinse an' baldherdash about the fairies, an'
swearin' that he didn't b'lieve there was any live things, barrin' min an'
bastes, an' birds and fishes, an' sich like things as a body cud see, and he
wint on talkin' in so profane a way o' the good people, that som o' the company
grew timid an' begun to crass thimsilves, not knowin' what might happin', whin
an ould woman called Mary Hogan wid a long blue cloak about her, that was sittin'
in the chimbly corner smokin' her pipe widout takin' the laste share in the
conversations tuk the pipe out o' her mouth, an' threw the ashes out o' it, an'
spit in the fire, an' turnin' round, luked Failey straight in the face. "An' so
you don't b'lieve there 's sich things as Leprechauns, don't ye?" sed she.
Well, Failey luked rayther daunted, but howsumdivir he sed nothin'. "Why, thin,
upon my throth, an' it well becomes the likes a' ye, an' that 's nothin' but a
bit uv a gossoon, to take upon yer to purtind not to b'lieve what yer father,
an' yer father's father, an' his father dare him, nivir med the laste doubt uv.
But to make the matther short, seein' 's b'lievin' they say, an' I, that might
be yer gran'mother, tell ye there is sich 'things as Leprechauns, an' what 'a
more, that I mysilf sedn one o' thim,--there 'a fur ye, now!"
All the people in the room luked quite surprised at this, an' crowded up to the
fireplace to listen to her. Failey thried to laugh, but it wouldn't do, nobody
minded him.
"I
remimber," sed she, "some time afther I married the honest man, that 's now dead
and gone, it was by the same token jist a little afore I lay in o' my first
child (an' that 'a many a long day ago), I was sittin', as I sed, out in our
little bit a' a gardin, wid my knittin' in my hand, watchin' sum bees we had
that war goin' to swarm. It was a fine sunshiny day about the middle o' June,
an' the bees war hummin' and flyin' backwards an' forwards frum the hives, an'
the birds war chirpin' an' hoppin' an the bushes, an' the buttherflies war flyin'
about an' sittin' an the flowers, an' ev'ry thing smelt so fresh an' so sweet,
an' I felt so happy, that I hardly knew whare I was. Well, all uv a suddint, I
heard among sum rows of banes we had in a corner o' the gardin, a n'ise that
wint tick tack tick tack, jist fur all the world as iv a brogue-maker was puttin'
an the heel uv a pump. 'The Lord presarve us,' sed I to mysilf, 'what in the
world can that be?' So I laid down my knittin', an' got up, an' stole ovir to
the banes, an' nivir believe me iv I didn't see, sittin' right forenint me, in
the very middle of thim, a bit of an ould man, not a quarther so big as a
newborn child, wid a little' cocked hat an his head, an' a dudeen in his mouth,
smokin' away; an' a plain, ould-fashioned, dhrab-coloured coat, wid big brass
buttons upon it, an his back, an' a pair o' massy silver buckles in his shoes,
that a'most covered his feet they war so big, an' be workin' away as hard as
ivir he could, heelin' a little pair o' pumps. The instant minnit I clapt
my two eyes upon him I knew him to be a Leprechaun, an' as I was stout an'
foolhardy, sez I to him ' God save ye honist man! that 's hard work ye 're at
this hot day.' He luked up in my face quite vexed like; so wid that I med a run
at him an' cotch hould o' him in my hand, an' axed him whare was his purse o'
money! 'Money?' sed he, 'money annagh! an' whare on airth id a poor
little ould crathur like myself git money?' 'Come, come,' sed I, 'none o' yer
thricks upon thravellers; doesn't every body know that Leprechauns, like ye, are
all as rich as the dlvil himsilf.' So I pulled out a knife I'd in my pocket, an'
put on as wicked a face as ivir I could (an' in throth, that was no aisy matther
fur me thin, fur I was as comely an' good-humoured a lukin' girl as you'd see
frum this to Ballitore)--an' swore by this and by that, if 'he didn't instantly
gi' me his purse, or show me a pot o' goold, I'd cut the nose aft his face.
Well, to be shure, the little man did luk so frightened at hearin' these words,
that I a'most found it in my heart to pity the poor little crathur. 'Thin,' sed
he, 'come wid me jist a couple o' fields aft, an' I'll show ye whare I keep my
money.' So I wint, still houldin' him fast in my hand, an' keepin' my eyes fixed
upon him, whin all o' a suddint I h'ard.a whiz-z behind me. 'There! there!
cries he, 'there's yer bees all swarmin' an' goin' aff wid thimsilves like
blazes.' I, like a fool as I was, turned my head round, an' whin I seen nothin'
at all, an' luked back at the Leprechaun, an' found nothin' at all at all in my
hand--fur whin l had the ill luck to take my eyes aff him, ye see, he slipped
out o' my fingers jist as iv he was med o' fog or smoke, an' the sarra the fut
he iver, come nigh my garden again."
[a] i. e. Felix. On
account of the Romish custom of naming after Saints, Felix, Thaddaeus, Terence,
Augustine, etc., are common names among the peasantry.
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THE THREE
LEPRECHAUNS
MRS. L. having heard that Molly Toole, an old woman who held a few acres of land
from Mr. L., had seen Leprechauns, resolved to visit her, and learn the truth
from her own lips. Accordingly, one Sunday, after church, she made her
appearance at Molly's residence, which was--no very common thing--extremely neat
and comfortable. As she entered, every thing looked gay and cheerful. The sun
shone bright in through the door on the earthen floor. Molly was seated at the
far side of the fire in her arm-chair; her daughter Mary, the prettiest girl on
the lands, was looking to the dinner that was boiling; and her son Mickey, a
young man of about two-and-twenty, was standing lolling with his back against
the dresser.
The arrival of the mistress disturbed the stillness that had hitherto prevailed.
Mary, who was a great favourite, hastened to the door to meet her, and shake
hands with her. Molly herself had nearly got to the middle of the floor when the
mistress met her, and Mickey modestly staid where he was till he should catch
her attention. "O then, musha! but isn't it a glad sight for my ould eyes to see
your own silf undher my roof? Mary, what ails you, girl? and why don't you go
into the room and fetch out a good chair for the misthress to sit down upon and
rest herself?" "Deed faith, mother, I 'm so glad I don't know what I 'm doin'.
Sure you know I didn't see the misthress since she cum down afore."
Mickey now caught Mrs. L.'s eye, and she asked him how he did. "By Gorra,
bravely, ma'am, thank you," said be, giving himself a wriggle, while his two
hands and the small of his back rested on the edge of the dresser.
"Now, Mary, stir yourself alanna," said the old woman, "and get out the bread
and butther. Sure you know the misthress can't but be hungry afther her
walk."--" O, never mind it, Molly; it's too much trouble."--" Throuble, indeed!
it 's as nice butther, ma'am, as iver you put a tooth in; and it was Mary
herself that med it."--" O, then I must taste it."
A
nice half griddle of whole-meal bread and a print of fresh butter were now
produced, and Molly helped the mistress with her own hands. As she was eating,
Mary kept looking in her face, and at last said, "Ah then, mother, doesn't the
misthress luk mighty well? Upon my faikins, ma'am, I never seen you luking half
so handsome."--" Well! and why wouldn't she luk well? And niver will she luk
betther nor be betther nor I wish her."--" Well, Molly, I think I may return the
compliment, for Mary is prettier than ever; and as for yourself, I really
believe it 's young again you're growing."--" Why, God be thanked, ma'am, I 'm
stout and hearty; and though I say it mysilf, there 'a not an ould woman in the
county can stir about betther nor me, and I 'm up ivery mornin' at the peep of
day, and rout them all up out of their beds. Don't I?" said she, looking at
Mary.--" Faith, and sure you do, mother," replied Mickey; "and before the peep
of day, too; for you have no marcy in you at all at all."--" Ah, in my young
days," continued the old woman, "people woren't slugabeds; out airly, home
late--that was the way wid thim."--" And usedn't people to see Leprechauns in
thim days, mother?" said Mickey, laughing.--" Hould your tongue, you saucy cub,
you," cried Molly; "what do you know about thim?"--" Leprechauns?"' said Mrs.
L., gladly catching at the opportunity; "did people really, Molly, see
Leprechauns in your young days?"--" Yes, indeed, ma'am; some people say
they did," replied Molly, very composedly.--" O com' now, mother," cried Mickey,
"don't think to be goin' it upon us that away; you know you seen thim one time
yoursilf, and you hadn't the gumption in you to cotch thim, and git their crocks
of gould from thim."--" Now, Molly, is that really true that you saw the
Leprechauns?"--" 'Deed, and did I, ma'am; but this boy 's always laughin' at me
about thim, and that makes me rather shy in talkin' o' thim"--" Well, Molly,
I won't laugh at you; so, come, tell me how you saw them."
"Well, ma'am, you see it was whin I was jist about the age of Mary, there. I was
comin' home late one Monday evenin' from the market; for my aunt Kitty, God be
marciful to her! would keep me to take a cup of tay. It was in the summer time,
you see, ma'am, much about the middle of Tune, an' it was through the fields I
come. Well, ma'am, as I was sayin', it was late in the evenin', that is, the sun
was near goin' down, an' the light was straight in my eyes, an' I come along
through the bog-meadow; for it was shortly afther I was married to him that 'a
gone, an' we wor livin' in this very house you're in now; an' thin whin I come
to the castle-field--the pathway you know, ma'am, goes right through the middle
uv it--an' it was thin as fine a field of whate, jist shot out, as you'd wish to
luk at; an' it was a purty sight to see it wavin' so beautifully wid every air
of wind that was goin' over it, dancin' like to the music of a thrash, that was
singin' down below in the hidge. [a] Well, ma'am, I crasst over the style that
'a there yit, and wint along fair and aisy, till I was near about the middle o'
the field, whin somethin' med me cast my. eyes to the ground, a little before
me; an' thin I saw, as sure as I 'm sittin' here, no less nor three o' the
Leprechauns, all bundled together like so miny tailyors, in the middle o' the
path before me. They worn't hammerin' their pumps, nor makin' any kind, of n'ise
whatever; but there they wor, the three little fellows, wid their cocked hats
upon thim, an' their legs gothered up undher thim, workin' away at their thrade
as hard as may be. If you wor only to see, ma'am, how fast their little ilbows
wint as they pulled out their inds! Well, every one o' thim had his eye cocked
upon me, an' their eyes wor as bright as the eye of a frog, an' I cudn't stir
one step from the spot for the life o' me.. So I turned my head round, and
prayed to the Lord in his marcy to deliver me from thim, and when I wint to luk
at thim agin, ma'am, not a sight o' thim was to be seen: they wor gone like a
dhrame."--" But, Molly, why did you not catch them?"--" I was afeard, ma'am,
that 'a the thruth uv it; but maybe I was as well widout thim. I niver h'ard
tell of a Leprechaun yit that wasn't too many for any one that cotch him."--"
Well, and Molly, do you think there are any Leprechauns now?"--" It 's my
belief, ma'am, they're all gone out of the country, diver and dane, along wid
the Fairies; for I niver hear tell o' thim now at all."
Mrs. L. having now attained her object, after a little more talk with the good
old woman, took her leave, attended by Mary, who would see her a piece of the
way home. And Mary being asked what she thought of the Leprechauns, confessed
her inability to give a decided opinion: her mother, she knew, was incapable of
telling a lie, and yet she had her doubts if there ever were such things as
Leprechauns.
The following tale of a Cluricaun, related by the writer of the Legend of Bottle
Hill, is of a peculiar character. We have never heard anything similar of a
Leprechaun.
[a] In our Tales and Popular
Fictions, p. 16, we noticed the coincidence between this and a passage in an
Arabic author. We did not then recollect the. following verses of Milton,
The willows and the hazle copses green
Shall now no more be seen
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
Lycidas, 42.
The simile of the moon among the stars in the same place, we have since found in
the Nibelungen Lied (st. 285), and in some of our old poets, and Hammer says (Schirin
i. note 7), that it occurs even to satiety in Oriental poetry. In like manner
Camoens' simile of the mirror, mentioned in the same place, occurs in
Poliziano's Stanze i. 64.
-From: The Fairy
Mythology.,Thomas Keightley, 1870.
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THE Leprechaun--that flash from elf-land--was perched comfortably upon the
west window ledge, high up in Ardmore Tower. Dawn was just beginning to send
misty, gray lights over the rolling land. Winds that have blown since the world
began were blowing around the old Irish tower. It was the south wind, this
morning, that was blowing the strongest--the wind from the good sea that washed
the coast of Ardmore and the high-lands of Ireland. The strong, stone tower,
tapering skyward, stood, as it stands today, like a silent sentinel on the "hill
of the sheep"--the "great hill." Below its conical top, two windows, east and
west, looked out, and it's on the ledge of the west one--mind you--that the
Leprechaun was sitting. He had been sitting there since sundown. An iron bar,
inside the tower, goes from the top of the west window to the top of the east
window, and once, no one knows how long ago, seven small bells hung from this
bar under the pinnacle. They are gone now, but in the old days they used to ring
often.
("That's so," said the Leprechaun. He was always saying "That's so," to agree
with himself or other people--himself oftenest.)
This little elf, in red jacket and green breeches who spends most of his days
and some of his nights making shoes for the fairy folk, has been working the
past night on a pair of riding boots for the fairy prince who wants the boots by
sunrise. Tap, tap, tap--goes the Leprechaun's tiny hammer. Whish, whish, go
his swift fingers. Hum, hum-m-m-m-, goes his little singing tune, for the
Leprechaun could no more work without singing than you could sleep without
shutting your eyes.
("That's so!" said the Leprechaun.)
He is only six inches high, and harder to catch than a will-o'-the-wisp. If
one could ever succeed in catching him, and then could keep looking at
him, he might tell--though not a bit willingly--where a wonderful crock
of gold is. But do you think you could keep looking at him and at him alone?
Why, just as you think you are looking at nothing else, he, somehow, makes you
look away from him, and, ochone, he is gone! He's that clever.
("That's so," said the Leprechaun.)
Many an enchantment the Leprechaun can perform, for all he appears so simple
as he pegs away at the riding boots. Yes, himself it is that can blight the corn
or snip off hair most
unexpectedly. When he sits, crosslegged at his work, whether on a cornice of
a roof or on a twig of the low bushes, it's just as well not to let him know you
are watching him. The Irish fairy folk are all like that, and draw magic out of
earth and sea and sky, or else draw it out of nothing at all.
("Do you hear that?" said the Leprechaun.)
Now this misty, windy dawn of a morning, thousands of days and nights ago, as
the Leprechaun, up there on the gray, stone tower, tapped, tapped with his
hammer, to finish the prince's boots, promised by sunrise, his elfin mind
capered around with many thoughts. The mists were beginning to shine in the dim
light of early morning, and the Leprechaun's thoughts, freshened by the south
wind, were wafted over the whole land of Erin that stretched beyond the bogs and
swamps, beyond the mounds and cromlechs, beyond the hills. He could tell you the
colors of all the winds of Ireland. This south wind was white; the north wind,
full of blackness; the west wind pale yellow, and the east wind was always a
stirring, purple wind. The lesser winds, too, had their colors--yellow of furze,
red of fire, gray of fog, green of meadow, brown of autumn leaves, and three
more colors that mortals could not see. The Leprechaun, whenever he wished,
could travel lightly on whatever wind was blowing and sing a tune as loud as any
of them. This morning, in the misty dawn, it was his heart that did the
traveling and it was his thoughts that sang tunes to match. When his eyes
glanced from his work, toward the sea, his thoughts flew to Manannan Mac Lir,
the old sea-god, riding along in his chariot, with thousands of his steeds
shaking their manes as
they galloped with him. For many a century, the great, slender, round tower
had watched these steeds and the spirited charioteer. On many a moonlit night,
it had seen invading bands crawl quietly to shore and stealthily march right up
to the base of the tower with bad plans to surprise the unprotected people.
Again and again the men of Ardmore had gathered their families, with provisions,
safely, into the tall tower, barring the narrow door that was many feet high
above the ground. There the weak ones and the women and children had lived, for
days, until the invaders had been driven away. The Leprechaun laughed aloud as
he thought of one stormy day when the old sea-god, Manannan Mac Lir, had bidden
his horses keep the invaders from reaching the shore and the tower. The lively
horses shook their manes and obeyed--ochone, but they obeyed!
Tap, tap, tap! The south wind, thought the Leprechaun, will be a strong one,
this day! And the wind will draw music from the harps of all the Little Good
Folk throughout Erin. As the Leprechaun, between his taps, looked westward,
there was a break in the light morning vapor, like the gay snatch of song a
maiden sings in the midst of her work; and, through the break, the elf's long
gaze swept across the river Blackwater, and beside Watergrasshill, over the
moor-land to the Bochragh Mountains, and even as far as Mt. Mish. There was a
tale about Mt. Mish that rushed in now upon his thinking--a tale about his
ancestors, the Tuatha-de-Danann "the folk of the god whose mother is Dana."
On a day, in the early age of the world, when gray moor-land and steep
mountains began to blaze brilliant with purple
heather and yellow furze, the Danaans, covering themselves with a fog, crept
along the east coast to possess the country near Mt. Mish. Fiercely they fought
with the inhabitants, the Firbolgs, and won. For a thousand years they held
sway--these tall, fair-haired men of Greek descent who had come from the North.
After the thousand years and one day more, new invaders, the Milesians, entering
along the bank of the Inverskena River, swept up into the land, like the knowing
conquerors that they were, to overcome the Danaans.
The Leprechaun now sang, with a little humming chant, the words that Amergin,
chief druid of the Milesians, sang when he set his right foot on the soil of
Erin:
I am the Wind that blows over the
sea,
I am the Wave of the ocean;
I am the Murmur of the billows;
I am the Ox of the seven combats;
I am the Vulture upon the rock;
I am a Ray of the Sun;
I am the fairest of Plants;
. . . . . . . . . . .
When the Danaans had been conquered by the Milesians, they promised that they
would dwell inside the hills or under the lakes, and that they would be
invisible to mortals, except on rare occasions. This promise they had kept.
("That's so," said the Leprechaun.)
The Leprechaun liked what the Danaans, his ancestors, had done next. The
chief druid of the Danaans had raised his golden harp in the dazzling sunlight,
the other druids had lifted their silver harps in the glittering morning air,
and al
the druids had played such deliciously enchanting melodies that the Danaans,
in a long procession that seemed like a living green, had followed their
leaders, laughing as they went, and singing like merry brooks or happy children.
Into the mountains they had gone, disappearing before the very eyes of the
Milesians. Forever afterwards they lived within the mountains and became the
Ever-Living Living Ones in the Land of Youth.
The Leprechaun knew well that he, and all his elf kin, were descendants of
those very Danaans, who still lived in their underground palaces that blazed
with light and laughter. Hadn't the drean--the wise, small wren--that
druid of
birds, often told him what was going on down there? Hadn't he himself been
below the tower of Ardmore, where, in a glorious hall that belonged to the
Ever-Living Living Ones, the Danaans held many a gay carousal? Didn't he hear,
at times, their bells ringing under the bog, on a quiet evening? And hadn't he,
more times than once, rung the sweet bells of Ardmore--these bells which never
had been rung except by one whose real home was in the Land of Youth? In the
Land of Youth was the Leprechaun's home. (Ochone, I should say!) There it had
been since the day that Oisin, son of Finn, journeyed to that land. For, on the
same day, without Oisin's knowledge, the Leprechaun had sped from the green
hills of Erin, through a golden haze, to the country of the Ever-Living Living
Ones. Oisin was his hero, his great hero, whom he had helped, invisibly, more
than he had helped anyone else. The most valiant Danaan of all was Oisin, and
Oisin he would follow to the world's end.
("That's so," said the Leprechaun, as he began the fancy stitching on the
prince's riding boots.)
Now, for the thousandth time, he told himself the story of Oisin, for he
liked this tale best of all: how Oisin, when
hunting, met the maiden, Niam of the Golden Hair, riding her snow-white
steed; how, after she sang to him a song of the enchanting "land beyond dreams,"
Oisin had ridden with her to the Land of Youth (and the Leprechaun, in the shape
of a butterfly, had perched on the horse's mane); how, in the realm of her
father, the king, fearless Oisin had had brave adventures. He rescued a princess
from a giant; subdued the three Hounds of Erin (helped by the Leprechaun who
confused the hounds), and found the magic harp--a harp next in wonder to the
Dagda's harp whose strings, when touched, would sing the story of the one who
last touched them. He had even tilted with the king's cupbearer to win
a gold-hilted sword, and had done other worthy deeds. No time at all, it
seemed to Oisin, that magical time, in the Land of Youth, but, at last, his
heart longed to see his old home. So Niam of the Golden Hair gave him her
snow-white steed to ride, but charged him three times that, when he should reach
the familiar places of Erin, he must not, once, set foot upon the ground or he
would never be able to return to the Land of Youth. Oisin bade her farewell and,
with the Leprechaun as a butterfly still on the horse's mane, he began his
homeward journey.
As he was riding along, once more, through a beautiful vale of Erin, he saw
men, much smaller than himself, trying in vain to push aside a huge boulder that
had rolled from the hillside down upon their tilled land. In pity for these
weaklings, he instantly jumped from his saddle to the ground (not heeding the
Leprechaun who, in his own form, clung with all his might, to remind him of
Niam's warning) and, with one push, he sent the boulder out of the way. Alas!
Even as the men were shouting praises to their god-like helper, it seemed to
Oisin that darkness bore him to the earth. When he opened his eyes, lo, he was
an old man, feeble, gray-headed, gray-bearded! The men whom he had helped, had
with one accord run away; but the Leprechaun, astride a twig close by, whispered
words of cheer and sang part of the song of the Danaans when they went into the
mountains. Oisin then roused himself and said faintly, "I hear the voice of
bells." Then he added in a resolute tone, "Whenever I shall hear sweet bells
ring, young will be my heart." Since that day, the Leprechaun had often rung
bells, especially the bells of
Ardmore Tower, because he knew that Oisin would hear them and feel
young again.
Tap, tap, tap,--and the Leprechaun's work is done. It's little that anyone
can tell about him making shoes, or about Ireland's heroes, or about its grassy
mounds of mystery. He stands up now and stretches himself. If he felt like it,
he could blow a blast on the tiny, curved horn, hanging at his side, and call,
from the Underland, as many merry-hearted Danaans as he chose. He could cast
spells, too, on the sea, beyond the ninth wave from shore. Instead, he whisks
from the west window into the tower and out again, through the east window.
There he stands for a few moments--his feet braced on the highest circular
cornice, his back leaning against the sloping roof top--watching the rim of the
sun
rise over a mountainous cloud. The sky of gold is changing to the pink of a
wild rose. The gray mists, over moorland and mound, are scattering as quickly as
the men whom Oisin helped.
The Round Tower of Ardmore again greeted the sun, as the Leprechaun, hugging
tightly the riding boots promised to the fairy prince at sunrise, swiftly slid
down a sunbeam to the top of the oak tree, where the prince was waiting.
"Here they are, Your Highness," said the elf, with a bow.
The prince smiled, as he took the boots, and gave the Leprechaun a piece of
gold. "You've kept your promise," he said.
"That's so," answered the Leprechaun. Then he sprang up on the rollicking
south wind and flew away.
-From:Tower Legends.,
Bertha Palmer Lane, 1932.
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THE LEPRECHAUN.*
I
OH, the lonely, quiet glen,
Where the hazel trees are green,
And, among the bushes hiding,
The humble stream is gliding,
Murmuring as in reverie,
The long, long day, so tranquilly.
II.
Where the blackberries droop low,
Where gleams the glossy sloe,
And nuts are clustering brown
On thick branches, drooping down;
And, sometimes, soft and clear is heard
The music of the sweet blackbird.
III
There, when the sun is low,
A tapping noise doth come and go; "
'Tis the Leprechaun at his last,
At which ho raps away so fast.
He wears a cocked hat on his head,
And a tiny coat of scarlet red.
IV
Oft so quickly and so keen,
Bright his glance around is seen;
And if a mortal he espies,
Quick as lightning then he flies,
And naught of him can you then trace
Within that lonely, silent place.
V.
Oh, could you steal upon,
And catch fast the Leprechaun,
You might win the gold so rare,
Stores of which he's hid somewhere
When the tap! tap! tap! you hear,
Steal quietly and slowly near.
VI
Some soft balmy evening, when
The sun is sinking in the glen,
As the fairy workman plies,
Quickly spring and seize the prize,
And ask him then the spot to show '
Where bright the hidden treasures glow.
VII
Look not round, or then is gone
Prom your grasp the Leprechaun;
And his mocking laugh you'll hear
Ringing 'round so strange and clear.
Oh, keep your hand and eye upon
The little, wily Leprechaun!
*The Irish Fairy Shoemaker.
-
From: Poems Mrs Mary Anne Kelly O'Doherty 1877
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THE LEPRECHAUN
By NORA CHESSON
O
HAVE you seen the Leprechaun at darkling of the moon?
О
have you seen the Leprechaun a-clouting fairy shoon ?
Beneath the sacred thorn-tree he sits and labours long,
And not a bird in Ireland can better him in song.
His eyes are changeful-coloured as any opal stone,
His mouth is sly and wistful with wisdom all his own ;
His ears can hear the grass grow a hundred miles away,
He's younger than to-moirow, more old than yesterday.
If
you can catch the Leprechaun and keep him in your hold,
He'll show you where lies buried a crock of fairy gold;
But you must never lose your grasp whatever wile he tries,
Though you see your cabin flaming before your very еуеn.
But if you let him 'scape you, some wisdom you'll have won
By
holding wisdom in your hand beneath the moon or sun ;
Though t'were only for a moment, and suddenly withdrawn.
О
have you ever met him, the red-capped Leprechaun-
-In: The English Ilustrated
Magazine, 1903
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THE LEPRECHAUN.
AIR—" Araby's Daughter."
The morning sun shone over valley and mountain,
And sprinkled with diamonds the calm-flowing Lee ;
The lark sang on high, and the plash of the fountain
Was blent with the hum of the wandering bee,
When Dermot came forth from his cot by the meadow,
And gaz'd on the morning sky, azure and gold ;
Ere taking his way through the sunlight and shadow,
He stopp'd at the gate of the chieftain's stronghold.
He lov'd the fair Una, M'Carthy's proud daughter,
Whose beauty was sung by the bards of the land,
And warriors often in marriage had sought her,
And nobles had sued for the young maiden's hand ;
But Dermot was poor, and deformed, and lowly;
Yet often he came from his cabin afar
To gaze on the maiden, with thoughts pure and holy,
As
we gaze on the light of a far distant star.
He
thought, as he stray'd by the clear running river, "
There's beauty and wealth in the bold chieftain's hall
When she scorns the brave she will look on me never,
As the one who would win her must rival them all.
I must gaze on her still as the serf and the vassal,
While selling the trout I have snar'd in the stream,
And list to the sounds of high feasting and wassail,
And back to my cabin to ponder and dream."
The evening has come, and the rock of the fairy
Is bathed in light from the red setting sun ;
As Dermot reclines there exhausted and weary,
His long task is ended, his labor is done.
But, hark ! there's a song through the sally-grove ringing,
That is sweet as the lark's when he welcomes the dawn,
And Dermot has stole on the fairy that's singing—
Though he often had foil'd him—that wild Leprechaun.
He
grapples the sprite, with his eyes beaming pleasure ;
The fairy has yielded at last to his fate,
And Dermot has gain'd the long-coveted treasure,
And feels himself growing both handsome and straight.
He hies to the castle ; the handsome young stranger
Is greeted with welcome and, feasted with joy,
Though his old mother thinks that some trouble or danger
Has come in the path of her poor sickly boy.
And soon, ere the long days of summer were over,
A castle was built on that rock in the Lee ;* *
For the chieftain's fair daughter had told her young lover
She wish'd on that wild spot her dwelling to be.
The joybells have rung, and the bridal is ended ;
The hall is deserted; the banquet is o'er;
The maiden with joy to her new home has wended ;
But the crooked-back peasant was never seen more.
**
There are two or three legends to account for Carrigadrohid Castle being built
on the isolated rock in the Kiver Lcc. I have chosen the most romantic, though
least probable.
*
Written before the foundation of the present beautiful structure was laid.
-From:Legends,
Ballads, and Songs of the Lee.,John Fitz Gerald, 1862
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Lament of the Last Leprechaun.
For the red shoon of the Shee,
For the falling o' the leaf,
For the wind among the reeds,
My grief!
For the sorrow of the sea,
For the song's unquickened seeds,
For the sleeping of the Shee,
My grief!
For dishonoured -whitethorn-tree,
For the runes that no man reads,
Where the gray stones face the sea,
My grief !
Lissakeole, that used to be
Filled with music night and noon,
For their ancient revelry,
My grief!
For the empty fairy shoon,
Hollcnv rath and yellow leaf;
Hands unkissed to sun or moon :
My grief— my grief!
From: Ballads in Prose,
Nora Chesson,1894.
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The
Leprechaun*
O Summer is the time to see the little
leprechaun;
He haunts the Irish hedges at the very peep
o' dawn;
You hear a little hammer going rap-a-tap-a-tap —
And then you know he's close at hand, the foxy
fairy chap.
And, faith, the little leprechaun has knowledge of
a place
Where lies a crock o' fairy gold — the hoarding of
his race;
And, if you keep your eye on him, you have him
in your power,
And he must tell you where 'tis hid, that golden
fairy dower.
But, ah! beware the leprechaun, for he has tricks
to blind,
And if you look away from him he'll vanish like
the wind.
And sure 'tis I that know it, for I flung away my
chance
Of ever being wealthy by one fatal, fleeting glance.
For once at early morning, ere the sun had drunk
the dew,
I came upon the leprechaun at work upon a shoe;
At work upon a fairy shoe, the crabbed little elf,
And, 0, so very busy that he didn't see myself. "
Good morning to your honor, sir," all flustered
like, I said. "
Good morning kindly, sir," said he, and hardly
raised his head. '
Twas coolly he replied to me, betraying no surprise;
In fact, I thought I saw a roguish twinkle in his
eyes. "
Tis early you are up," said I, not knowing what
to say. "
Ah, yes," said he, "but that's because I'm rather.
rushed to-day.
But, though I rise so early, yet I honestly declare
I'm never up so early as my neighbor over there."
* The leprechaun is
a fairy shoemaker eagerly sought by
people who like to get rich quick. If the mortal who meets
him will only keep his eyes fixed upon the fairy, the little chap
will have to disclose the hiding place of a certain crock of
gold. But the leprechaun is so full of tricks to make people
look away from him, that few of those who have met him have
got rich at his expense. [
- From:
Heart Songs and Home Songs,Heart Songs and Home Songs,Heart Songs and Home
Songs, Denis Aloysius, McCarthy,1916.
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Sho-heen. Sho,
(Lullaby.)
The verses which I have called "
Sea-hin-sea Sea-ho," were written by
me while on a train bound from the
White Mountains to Boston last Sep- (
Original.)
By Mary Grant O'Sheridan.
The leprechaun out in the haggard
Is mending his little red shoon;
And wee, fairy folk in the meadow
Dance light 'neath the sheen of the moon.
The brown-throstle nestlings are dreaming
Of love, on the low laurel bough.
And elfln craft sailing the river
Have flre pennants flung from the prow.
Then sleep my heart's birdling, my
darling! The brown-throstle mother and I
Together keep watch o'er our loved
ones Sea-hin-sea Sea-ho lullaby.
(Sho-heen-sho sho-ho lullaby).
The silver mists curl in the valley,
And red lilies bend in the dew.
The drolleen sings out In the hedgerow,
The drolleen, he sings love for you!
The white, powdered wings of the
night-moth Flit down to the half-opened rose;
And mother will kiss your dear eyelids,
And seal them with love when they
close. Then sleep my heart's flower, my darling,
The moon o'er the mountain hangs
low, And brown-throstles peep in their
dreaming.
Sea-hin-sea, sea-hin-sea.
sea-ho.
Boston. September, 1902.
-From:The Gael.,1903.
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Leprechauns in Lives of the
Saints- Second Voyage of St. Brendan of Clonfert
xxxiii. HERE 1s THE STORY OF
THE ISLE OF DWARFS. (
95) After leaving this place they saw a little insignificant country
near them. And as they were landing there, the harbour was filled
with demons in the shapes of dwarfs and leprechauns opposing them,
whose faces were black as coal. Then said Brendan: ' Let go the
anchor, for no one can enter this land but one who shall wage human
war against demons, and shed blood over them.' They remained
there till the end of seven days and seven nights, and they could not
draw up their anchor, and
they left it there, stuck between the rocks,
and then quitted the harbour. (
96) So they were in sore straits for want of their
anchor, and for
the loss of the smith who could have made one for them. Then said
Brendan to a priest of his company: ' Do thou,' said he,' the work
of the smith for us to the end of a month.' So Brendan blessed the
hands of the priest, for he had never previously learnt smith's craft.
Then, however, the priest made an admirable anchor, and there was
never found either before or since anything to compare with it for
excellence of workmanship.
95. ' Dwarfs and Leprechauns ' = in formis quasi
pigmeorum, R. The
word luchurpdn (lit. little body) occurs in many forms, and is the Anglo-
Irish 'Leprechaun', a kind of fairy. In Rawl. B. 502 f. 41°. 5, these
beings are said to be the offspring of the unlawful intercourse of the chilren
of Seth with those of Cain; but according to ib. f. 42*'. 47 (||LU 2*
45) they are the descendants of Ham after he had been cursed by his
father. The qualification for entering the demon isle differs from the
Latin : ' nisi is qui bella humana gerit, et sanguinem fundit.'
-From:Bethada Naem NErenn-Lives of the Irish Saints,
Charles Plummer, 1922
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About the Leprechaun (Wood-Martin)
One rather rare kind of
fairy also to be described—the Lepre
chaun, or hermit-fairy, of peculiar habits, tastes, and powers— ives a solitary
life; for in Leprechaun history there is, at present, no recorded instance
of two of this class of " good
people" ever having been seen together. The Leprechaun loves solitude and
retirement, frequenting undisturbed nooks, where he can sit in perfect
quiet, without fear of interruption, in the pursuit of his usual occupation,
that of a hrogue- or shoe-maker (fig. 0). Though carrying on this humble trade,
he is described as wearing the red square-cut coat and long waistcoat
richly laced with gold, the knee- breeches, shoes, and cocked hat,
characteristic of the beaux of the last century. He possesses the power of Klo
0_.lhf
bestowing unbounded wealth on what- From Mr. & Mn. ever mortal can catch and
keep him
under his eye, until, weary of human observation, he gives the ransom demanded
for his liberty. Nearly always, by some device, he makes his captor avert his
gaze, if only for a moment, when
he instantly vanishes.
-From:Traces of the Elder Faithsof Ireland.,
William Gregory Wood-Martin, 1902
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Leprechauns
and Place Names
Nor is the leprechaun
forgotten—the merry sprite " Whom maids at night, Oft meet in glen that's
haunted," who will give you the sparan settlings, an inexhaustible fairy purse,
if you can only manage to hold him spell-bound by an uninterrupted gaze. This
lively little fellow is known by several different names, such as litprachaun,
lurieane, lurrigadane, dun- cane, luppercadane, loughryman, &c. The correct
original designation from which all these have been corrupted, is luthorpan, or
as we find it in the MS. H. 2, 16 (col. 120), lucharían; from /»/'everything
small" (Cor. Gl., roce "luda"), and carpan, a diminutive of corp, a body, Lat.
corpus; so that liichorpan signifies " an extremely little body " (see Stokes's
Cor. Gl. p. 1).
Every one knows that fairies ore a merry race and
that they enjoy immensely their midnight gambols ;
moreover, it would seem that they indulge in many
of the ordinary peasant pastimes. The fairy fort of
Lisfaerbeganagommaun stands in the townland of
Knocknagraigue East, four.files from cor???. in Clare ; and whoever cautiously
approaches it on a
calm moonlight night, will probably see a spectacle
worth remembering—the little inhabitants, in all their
glory, playing at the game of coman, or hurley.
Their favourite amusement is told clearly enough in
the name Lisnascragh the fort of the
little hurlers. Sam Lover must have been well acquainted
with their pastimes when he wrote his
pretty song, " The fairies are dancing by brake and
by bower;" and indeed he probably saw them himself, "
lightly tripping o'er the green," in one of the
many forts, where they indulge in their nightly
revelry, and which are still called Lissarinka, the
fort of the dancing.
Readers of Crofton Croker will recollect the story
of the rath of Knockgraffon, and how the little man,
Lusmore, sitting down to rest himself near the fort,
heard a strain of wild music from the inside. Knockgraffon
is not the only " airy " place where the ceól-
sidhe, or fairy music, is heard ; in fact this is a very
common way of manifesting their presence ; and accordingly
certain raths in the south of Ireland are
known by the name of Lissakeole, the fort of the
music. Neilson (Irish Gram., page 55) mentions a
hill in the county of Down, called Knocknafeadalea,
whistling hill, from the music of the fairies which
was often heard to proceed from it ; and the townland
of Lisnafeddaly in Monaghan, and Lisnafeedy in
Armagh, both took their names (signifying the fort
of the whistling : fend or fid, a whistle) from lisses,
with the same reputation.
-From:The Origin and History of Irish
Names of Places, Patrick Weston Joyce, 1875.
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OF CERTAIN
IRISH FAIRIES
THE Leprechaun,—the omadhaun!—that
lives in
County Clare,
Is one foot wide and three foot high without an
inch to spare.
He winks the sea-blue eye of him, like other saucy
rogues, .
And underneath the blackthorn-bush he sits to clout
his brogues.
Then, if you catch the Leprechaun and never loose
your hold,
He's bound to show you where he's hid a pot of
yellow gold,
And give you, too, a fairy purse with tassels down
the end, /
That's never bare, but always full, no matter what
you spend. '
Tis I would catch the Leprechaun;—and then
what would I do?
'Id take the yellow gold,
machree, and give it all
to you!...
From:The Mirthful Lyre.,Arthur Guiteman, 1918
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From The Tipperary Venus
…..Musha! thin, may bad luck attend yez for a set of
schemin' vagabones; an' afther all my throuble it's done
again I am," he cried, in a rage, emptying his pocket, and
flinging away its contents in thorough disgust. "Hollo!
what's this ?" he cried, with a start, as he drew forth the
last handful; " may I never ate bread if I haven't tuk one
of the chaps prisoner, an' if it isn't a Leprechaun I'm not
alive;" and sure enough there, lying in the palm of his hand, was as queer a
looking specimen of fairyhood as
ever the eye looked upon.
The little bit of a creature had the appearance of an old
man, with -wrinkled skin and withered features. It was
dressed, too, in the costume of a by-gone age.' A mite of
a velvet coat covered its morsel of a back ; a pair of velvet
breeches, together with white silk stockings, and little red-
heeled shoes, adorned its diminutive legs, which looked as
if they might have belonged to a rather fat spider, and a
stiff white wig, duly pomatumed and powdered, surmounted
by a three-cornered hat, bedecked its head, v
The leprechaun seemed to be in a state of insensibility,
as Terry examined minutely its old-fashioned appearance. '
It's just as I've heard tell of 'em," he cried, in glee; "
cocked hat, an' breeches, an' buckles, an' all. Hurroo !
I'm a made man if he ever comes to." With that, Terry
breathed gently on the little fellow as he lay-in his hand,
as one would to resuscitate a drowned fly. "
I wondher if he'd have any relish for wather—here
goes to thry," said Terry, plucking a buttercup flower, in
whose cavity a drop of dew had rested, and holding it to
the lips of the leprechaun, " Oh, murdher! if I only had a
taste of whisky to qualify it; if that wouldn't bring the
life into an Irish fairy, nothing would Ha! he's openin'
his bit of an eye, by dad ; here, suck this, yer sowl to
glory," Terry continued, and was soon gratified by seeing
the leprechaun begin to imbibe the contents of the buttercup
with intense avidity. "
I hope you're betther, sir," said Terry, politely. "
Not the betther for you, Mr. Terry Magra," replied the
fairy, " though I'm obleeged to you for. the drop o' drink." "
Indeed, an' yer welcome, sir," Terry went on, " an'
more betoken, it's mighty sorry I am to have £ev you any
oneasiness." "
That's the last lie you towld, Mr. Terry, and you know
it," the leprechaun answered, tartly, " when your heart is
fairly leapin' in your body because you've had the luck to
lay a howld of me." "
Well, an' can't a fella be glad at his own luck, an' yet sorry if anybody else
is hurted by it," said Terry, apologetically. " You can't humbug me, you
covetious blaggard," the fairy went on. " But I'll thry you, anyway—now listen
to me. The fairies that you have just been so wicked as to inthrude your
unwelcome presence upon, were all leprechauns like myself—immortal essences,
whose duty it was to make and guard the treasures, that you saw in spite of all
the terrors that we employed to frighten you away. So long as they were
unobserved by mortal eyes, our existence was a bright and glorious one ; but,
once seen, we are obliged to abandon our fairy life and shape, take this
degrading form, and work at a degrading occupation, subject to the ailments and
mishaps of frail humanity, and forced to live in constant fear of your insatiate
species. Now, the only chance I have to regain the blissful immortality I have
lost, is for you to be magnanimous enough to relinquish the good fortune you
anticipate from my capture. Set me unconditionally free, and I can revel once
more in my forfeited fairy existence—persevere in your ungenerous advantage,
and I am condemned to wander a wretched outcast
through the world—now, what is your determination ?"
Terry's better feelings prompted him at first to let the
little creature go, but love of lucre got the upper hand,
and after a slight pause of irresolution, he replied : "
Indeed, an' it's heart sick that I am to act so conthrary,
but I'll leave it to yerself if it ain't agin nature for a man
to fling away his luck. Shoemakin' is an iligant amusement,
an' profitable ; you'll soon get mighty fond of it; so,
I'm afeard I'll have to throuble you to do somethin' for
me." " I thought how it would be; you're all alike," said the
fairy, sadly; " selfish to the heart's core. Well, what do
you want? I'm in your power, and must fulfill your
desire." "
Long life to you; now ye talk sense," cried Terry,
elated. " Sure I won't be hard on you—a thrifle of money
is all I wish for in the world, for everything else will follow
that." " More, perhaps, than you imagine—cares and anxieties,"
said the leprechaun. "
I'll risk all them," replied Terry; " come, now, I'll tell
you what you may do for me. Let me find a shillin' in
my pocket every time I put my fist into it, an' I'll be satisfied." "
Enough ! it's a bargain ; and now that you have made
your wish, all your power over me is gone," said the lepre
chaun, springing out of his hand like a grasshopper, and
lighting on the branch beside him ; " it's a purty" sort of a
fool you are," it continued, with a chuckle, "when the
threasures of the universe were yours for the desire, to be
contented with a pitiful pocket-full of shillin's ! ho ! ho!"
and the little thing laughed like a cornkrake at the discomfited
Terry. "
Musha! then, may bad cess to me if I don't crush the
fun out of yojjr cattherpillar of a carcass if I ketch a howlt
of you," said Terry, savagely griping at the fairy ; but,
with another spring, it jumped into the brushwood, and
disappeared.
Terry's first impulse was to dive'his hand into his pocket
to see if the leprechaun had kept his word, and to his
great delight, there he found, sure enough, a fine bright
new shilling. At this discovery his joy knew no bounds.
He jumped and hallooed aloud, amusing himself flinging
away shilling after shilling, merely on purpose to test the
continuance of the supply. He was satisfied. It was inexhaustible,
and bright dreams of a splendid future flitted
before his excited imagination.
With a heart full of happiness, Terry now wended his
way homeward, busying himself, as he went, along in conveying
shilling after shilling from one pocket into the
other, until he tilled it up to the button-hole. On arriving
at the village, he met a few of his old companions, but so
altered that he could scarcely recognize them, while they
stared at him as though he were a spectre. "
Keep us from harm," said one, " if here ain't Terry
Magra come back."
Back," cried Terry, with a merry laugh, " why, man
alive, I've never been away." "
Never away, indeed, and the hair of you as white as
the dhriven snow, that wa»*s brown as a beetle's back,
whin you left," said the other.
It then struck Terry that his friends in their turn had
aged considerably. The youngest that he remembered had
become bent and wrinkled. " The saints be good to us,"
he cried, " but this is mighty quare entirely. How long is
it sence I've seen yez, boys 1" he inquired eagerly. "
How long is it ? why, a matther of twenty years or
so," said one of the bystanders; " don't you know it is ?" "
Faith, an' I didn't until this blessed minute," said Terry. "
Have I grown ould onbeknownst to myself, I won-
dher?" • "
Bedad, an' it's an easy time you must have had sense
you've been away," said another; " not all as one as some
of us." "
Well, won't you come an' taste a sup, for gra' we met ?"
Baid Terry, beginning to feel rather uneasy at the singular
turn things had taken; but they shook their heads, and,
without any other observation, passed on, leaving him
standing alone. "
Stop !" he cried, " wait a bit; it's lashin's of money
that I have—here—look;" and he drew forth a handful
of the silver. It was no use, however. All their old cordiality
and love of fun were gone ; off they went, without
even a glance behind them. "
Twenty years," said Terry to himself. "Oh, they're
makin' fun of me. I don't feel a bit oulder nor I was yes-
therday. I'll soon be easy on that point, anyway." So he
proceeded towards the old drinking-place, that he had so
often spent the night in, but not an atom of it could he
find. In the place where he expected to see it, there was
a bran new house. He entered it, however, and going
straight up to a looking-glass which stood in the room,
was amazed on seeing reflected therein an apparition he
could not recognize, so withered and wrinkled did it appear,
and so altogether unlike what he anticipated, that he turned
sharply around in the hope of finding some aged individual
looking over his shoulder; but he was entirely alone—it
was his own reflection, and no mistake at all about it. "
By the powers of war, but my journey into the mountains
hasn't improved my personal appearance," said he. "
It's easy to see that; but, never mind, I've got the money,
an' that'll comfort me;" and he jingled the shillings in his
pocket as if he could never weary of the sound.
In a short time the fame of Terry's wealth spread
abroad, and as it may readily be imagined, he didn't long
want companions. The gay and the dissolute flocked
round him, and as he had a welcome smile and a liberal
hand for everybody, the hours flew by, carrying uproarious
jollity on their wings, and notwithstanding his infirmities
of body, Terry was as happy as the days were long.
Now, while he had only to provide for his own immedi
ate wants, and settle the whisky scores of his riotous
friends, he had easy work of it. It was only to keep put
ting his hand into his pocket two or three dozen times a
day, and there was more than sufficient. But this kind pf
existence soon began to grow monotonous, and Terry
sighed for the more enviable pleasures of a domestic life,
and inasmuch as it was now well understood that Terry
was an " eligible party," he had no great difficulty in making
a selection. Many of the " down hill " spinsters gave
evident indications that they would be nothing loth to
take him for better or for worse ; and—I'm sorry to have
to record the fact—not a few even of the more youthful
maidens set their curls at the quondam piper. Neither his
age, nor the doubtful source of his revenue, rendering him
an unmarketable commodity in the shambles of Hymen.
In process of time, Terry wooed and won a demure-
looking little collieen, and after having shut himself up for
two or three days, accumulating money enough for the
interesting and expensive ceremony, was duly bound to her
for life. Now, it was that his inexhaustible pocket began
to be overhauled continuously, and Terry cursed his imprudence
in not asking for guineas instead of shillings.
Mrs. Terry Magra possessed a somewhat ambitious desire
to outvie her neighbors. Silk dresses were in demand
and shawls and bonnets by the cart-load. The constant
employment gave Terry the rheumatism in his muscles,
until at last it was with the greatest difficulty he could
force his hand into his pocket.
Before many months had elapsed, Terry was prostrated
upon a sick bed, his side—the pocket-side—completely
paralyzed, and as he was not one of .those who lay by for
a rainy day, his inability to apply to his fairy exchequer
caused him to suffer the greatest privation—and where
were the boon companions of .his joyous hours, now ?
Vanished—not one of them to be seen—but haply fluttering
around some new favorite of fortune, to be in his turn
fooled, flattered, and when the dark day came—deserted.
When Terry grew better in health, which he did very
slowly, there was a considerable back-way to make up, and
the best part of his time was occupied in the mere mechanical
labor of bringing out his shillings. Mrs. Magra also
became more and. more exacting, and the care-worn piper
began to acknowledge to himself that nis good fortune was
not at all comparable with the anxiety and annoyance it
had produced. Again and again he deplored the chance
which had placed the temptation in his way, and most
especially blamed his own selfish greed, which prevented
him from behaving with proper generosity toward the captured
leprechaun. "
He towld me plain enough what would come of it,"
cried he, one day, as, utterly exhausted, he threw himself
on the floor, after many hours' application to the indispensable
pocket; " he towld me that it would bring care and
misery, an' yet I wasn't satisfied to profit by the warning.
Here am I, without a single hour of comfort, everybody
dhraggin' at me for money, money ! an' the very sinews of
me fairly wore out wid divin' for it. This sort of life ain't
worth livin' for."
Before long, Terry's necessities increased to such a
degree, that out of the twenty-four hours of the day and
night, more than two-thirds were taken up with the now
terrible drudgery by which
they were to be supplied. No
time had he left for relaxation—hardly for sleep. The
thought of to-morrow's toil weighed on his heart, and kept
him from rest. He was thoroughly miserable. It was in
vain that he called upon death to put an end to him and
his wretchedness together; there was no escape for him,
even, by that dark road ; the fear of a worse hereafter, made
imminent by the consciousness of an ill-spent life, kept him
from opening the eternal gate himself, to which he was
often sorely tempted.
To this great despondency succeeded a course of reckless
dissipation and drunkenness. Homeless at last, he wandered
from one drinking-shop to another, caring nothing
for the lamentable destitution in which his family was
steeped ; for, as is usually the case, the poorer he became
the more his family increased. His deserted wife and
starving little ones were forced to obtain a scanty subsistence
through the degrading means "of beggary. He himself
never applied to his fairy resource unless to furnish
sufficient of the scorching liquor as would completely
drown all sense of circumstance. The slightest approach
to sobriety only brought with it reflection, and reflection
was madness. So, the very worst amongst the worst, in
rags and filth, he staggered about the village, a mark of
scorn and contempt to every passer-by-, or else prone upon
some congenial heap of garbage, slept off the fierceness of
his intoxication, to be again renewed the instant consciousness
returned.
With that extraordinary tenacity of life indicative of an
originally fine constitution, which, added to a naturally
powerful frame of body, might have prolonged his years
even beyond the allotted space, Terry crept on in this worse
than brutal state of existence for many months, until at
last, one morning, after a drinking bout of more than usual
excess, he was found lying in a stable to which he had
crawled for shelter, insensible, and seemingly dead. Perceiving,
however, some slight signs of animation yet
remaining, his discoverers carried him to the public hospital,
for home he had none, and his own misdeeds had
estranged the affections, and closed the heart against him
of her whose inclination as well as duty would have
brought her quickly to his side, had he but regarded and
cherished the great God-gift to man—a woman's love, and
not cast it aside as a worthless thing.
Tended and cared for, however, although by stranger
hands, Terry hovered a long time betwixt life and death,
until at length skill and attention triumphed over the assailant,
and he was restored to comparative health.
It was then, during the long solitary hours of his convalescence,
when the mind was restored to thorough consciousness,
but the frame yet too weak for him to quit his
bed, that the recollection of his' wasted existence stood
spectre-like before his mental vision. Home destroyed,
wife
_ and children abandoned, friendships sundered, and
himself brought to the brink of a dreaded eternity, and all
through the means he had so eagerly coveted, and by
which he had expected to revel in all the world's joys.
He prayed, in the earnest sincerity of awakened repentance ; he prayed for
Heaven's assistance to enable him to
return to the straight path. "
Oh! if I once get out of this," he cried, while drops
of agony bedewed his face, " I'll make amends during the
brief time yet left me—I will, I will. Come what may,
never again will I be beholdin' to that fearful gift. I now
find to my great cost that wealth, not properly come by, is
a curse and not a blessing. I'll work, with the help of the
good God and his bright angels, an' may-be peace will
once more visit my tortured heart." ,
It was some time before he was able to leave his bed,
but when at last he was pronounced convalescent, he quitted
the. hospital, with the firm determination never again,
under any circumstance whatsoever, even to place his hand
within the pocket from whence he had hitherto drawn his
resources. As a further security against the probability of
temptation, he took a strong needle and thread, and sewed
up the opening tightly. "
There," he cried, with an accent of relief, " bad luck
to the toe of me can get in there now. Oh ! how I wish
to gracious it had always been so, and I wouldn't be the
miserable, homeless, houseless, wife and childless vagabone
that I am at this minnit."
As he was debating in his own mind what he should
turn to in order to obtain a living—for so great a disgust
had he taken to the pipes, to which he attributed all his
wretchedness, that he had determined to give up his productive
but precarious profession of piper, and abandoning
the dissolute crowd who rejoiced in his performances, be-
take himself to same more useful and reputable employment—
it suddenly occurred to him to visit the scene of his
fairy adventure, in the hope that he might get rid of the
dangerous gift his cupidity had obtained for him.
No sooner had he conceived the idea than he instantly
set forward to put it in execution. The night was favorable
for his purpose, and he arrived at the identical place in
the mountain, without the slightest interruption or accident.
He found it just'as he had left it, a scene of the wildest
desolation. No sound fell on his ear save the mournful
shrieking of the wind as it tore itself against the harsh
branches of the dead pine' trees. He climbed the rugged
side of the hill and looked into the black lake that filled
the dark chasm at ils summit. It seemed to be as solid as
a sheet of lead. He flung a pebble into the gurf; it was
eagerly sucked up, and sunk without a ripple, as though
dropped into a mass of burning pitch. One heavy bubble
swelled to the surface, broke into a sullen flame that flashed
lazily for an instant, and then went out. A small, but intensely
black puff of smoke rose above the spot; so dense
was the diminutive cloud that it was rejected by the
shadowy atmosphere, which refused to receive it within its
bosom. Reluctantly it seemed to hang upon the surface
of the lake, then slowly mounted, careering backwards and
forwards with each passing breeze.
The singular phenomenon attracted Terry's attention,
and he watched, with increasing interest, the gyrations of
the cloud, until at length it took a steady direction towards
the spot where he stood. It was not long before it floated
up to him, and he stepped
aside to let it pass by, but as he
moved, so did the ball of smoke. He stooped, and it followed
his movement; he turned and ran—just as swiftly
it sped with him. He now saw there was something supernatural
in it, and his heart beat with apprehension. "
There's no use in kickin' agin fate," he said, " so, with
a blessin', I'll just stop where I am, an' see what will come
of it; worse off I can't be, an' that's a comfort any way."
So saying, Terry stood still, and patiently waited the result.
To his great surprise the cloud of smoke, after making
the circuit of his head two or three times, settled on
his right shoulder, and on casting his eye round, he perceived
that it had changed into a living form, but still as
black as a coal. "
Bedad I'm among them agin, sure enough," said Terry,
now much more easy in his mind; " I woudher .who this
little divil is that's roostin' so comfortably on my showl-
dher." "
Wondher no longer, Misther Terry Magra," grunted a
frog-like voice into his ear; " by what magic means, oh!
presumptuous mortal, did you discover the charmed stone
which compelled the spirit of yonder sulphurous lake to
quit his warm quarters, thus to shiver in the uncongenial
air ? Of all the myriad pebbles that are scattered around,
that was the only one which possessed the power to call
me forth." "
Faix, an' it was a lucky chance that made me stumble
on it, sir," said Terry. " That's
as it may turn out," replied the spirit. " Do
you know who and what I am ? but why should you, ignorant
creature as you are ? Listen, and be enlightened. I
am the chief guardian of yon bitiyninous prison, within
whose murky depths lie groaning all of fairy kind, who
have by their i/nprudence forfeited their brilliant station. "
You don't tell me that, sir ? By goxty, an' I wouldn't
like to change places with them," said Terry, with a great
effort at familiarity. "
There's no knowing when you may share their fate,"
replied the spirit. " The soul of many an unhappy mortal,
who has abused a fairy-gift, lies there, as well."
Terry shivered to his very marrow as he heard those
words, for full well he knew, that amongst all such, none
deserved punishment more than he; he was only wondering
how his immortal part could be extracted from its living
tenement, when, as though the spirit knew his very thoughts,
it uttered: "
I have but to breathe within your ear a word of power,
and with that word the current of your life would cease."
Terry instinctively stretched his neck to its fullest extent,
as he said to himself, " I'll keep my lug out of your reach
if I can, my boy." But the spirit either knew his thought
or guessed it from the movement. "
Foolish piper," it said, "I could reach it did I so
incline, were it as high as Cashel Tower." And to prove
that the assertion was not a mere boast, the little fellow
made a jump, and perched upon the bridge of Terry's
nose, and sat there astride ; and as it was of the retrousse
order, a very comfortable seat itvhad ; light as a feather, it
rested there, peering alternately into each of Terry's eyes,
who squinted at the intruder, brimful of awe and amazement. "
I give in," said he. " It's less nor nothin' that I am in
your hands ; but if it's just as convainient for you, I'd be
much obliged to you if you'd lave that, for its fairly tearin'
the eyes out of me head that you are, while I'm thryin' to
look straight at you." "
It's all the same to me entirely," replied the spirit; "
and now that you have come to a full sense of my power,
I'll take up my position at a more agreeable distance."
So saying, the spirit bounded off of Terry's nose, and
alighted on a branch of the same tree on which the legion
of little pipers had before assembled, while Terry wiped
his relieved eyes with the sleeve of his coat, and sat upon
the piece of rock that stood beside. "
And now, Masther Magra," said the spirit, " we'll proceed
to business. Had you picked up any other stone but
the one you did, or had you refrained from obstructing the
lake in any way, your soul would have been mine for ever.
You see what a small chance you had. But inasmuch as
your good luck pointed out the talismanic pebble, you have
yet the privilege of making another wish which I must
gratify whatsoever it may be ; think well, however, ere you
ask it; let no scruples bound your desires. The wealth of
the world is in my distribution." Terry's
nerves thrilled again, as his mind conjured up
images of purchased delights. But for an instant only did
he hesitate what course he should pursue.
The temptation is wonderful," said he. " But no: I've endured enough of misery
from what I've had already."
II "What can I do for you?" said the spirit, sharply. Don't keep
a poor devil all night in the cold." "
Well, then, sir, I'll tell you," replied the other. " I
suppose you know already—for you seem to be mighty
knowledgeable—that some years back I kotch a leprechaun
on this very spot; and though he towld me that it would
be the desthroyin' of him out an' out, I meanly chose to
make myself rich, as I thought, by taking a fairy-gift from
him, rather than lettin' him go free an' unharmed. It was a
dirty an' selfish thransaction on my part, an' it's with salt
tears that I've repi.nted of that same. Now, if that leprechaun
is sufferin' on my account, and you can give the
creather any comfort, it's my wish that you'll manage it
for me—ay, even though I was to bear his punishment
myself." • "
You have spoken well and wisely," said the spirit;
u and
your reward will be beyond yqur hope."
Simultaneously with those words, Terry was still more
astonished at beholding a gradual but complete change
taking place in the neighborhood: the blasted trees shot
forth "fresh branches, the branches, in their turn, pushed
out new leaves, thick verdure overspread the rugged sides of
the mountain; while gushing joyously from an adjacent hollow,
a little rill danced merrily through the shining pebbles,
singing its song of gratitude, as though exulting in the
new-found liberty; unnumbered birds began to fill the air
with their delicious melody, the rifted and calcined rocks
concealed their charred fronts beneath festoons of flowering
parasites, the murky lake sank slowly into the abyss, while
in its place a tufted, daisy-spangled field appeared, to which
the meadow-lark descended lovingly, and fluttering a short
space amidst the dewy grass, sprang up again, with loud,
reverberating note.
The primeval change, when the beautiful new world
emerged from chaos, was not more glorious than was the
aspect now presented to the rapt beholder. He felt within
himself the exhilarating effect of all this vast and unex-
pected wonder, the free, fresh blood cast off its sluggishness,
and once more bounded through his veins, the flush
of vigor and excitement bedewed his brow, the flaccid
muscles hardened into renewed strength, elasticity and
suppleness pervaded every limb, stiffened and racked ere-
while with keen rheumatic pains; it was not, however,
until attracted by the pure limpid stream that filtered into
a sandy hollow near him, he stooped down to carry the
refreshing draught up to his lips, that he was aware of the
greatest change of all; for, instead of the sunken cheeks
and wrinkled brow, the bloodshot eyes and thin, grey hairs
that he had brought with him, the ruddy, health-embrowned .
and joy-lit features of years long gone, laughed up at him
from the glassy surface.
And now a merry little chuckle tintled in his ear, and
on looking around, he discovered that the black spirit had
vanished, and in its place sat the identical leprechaun,
about whose melancholy fate he was so concerned. "
By the piper that played before Moses, but it's glad I
am to see you once more, my haro; have they let yon
out ?" inquired Terry, with considerable anxiety. "
I have never been imprisoned," replied the little fellow,
gaily. "
Why, then, tear an nounthers" said Terry. "You
haven't been gostherin' me all the time, an' the heart of me
fairly burstin' wid the thought of them weeshee gams of
yours strikin' out among the pitch that was beyant." "
It was that very feeling of humanity, which I knew yet
lingered in your heart, that saved you," replied the leprechaun. "
As how, sir, might I ax ?" "
How long is it since you saw me before ?" "
Don't mention it," cried Terry, with an abashed look, "
a weary life-time a'most has passed since then." "
And what a life-time," observed the leprechaun,
reproachfully. "
Indeed, an' you may say that," replied the other. "
There's no one knows betther nor I do how sinfully that
life was wasted, how useless it has been to me an' to every
one else, how foolishly I flung away the means that might
liave comforted those who looked up to me, among heartless,
conscienceless vagabones, who laughed at me while I
fed their brutish appetites, and fled from me as though I
were infectious when ill-health and poverty fell upon my
head." "
Then the fairy gift did not bring you happiness ?" "
Happiness!" replied Terry, with a groan, " it changed
me from a man into a beast, it brought distress at d misery
upon those nearest and
dearest to me, it made my whole
worldly existence one continued reproach, and God help me,
I'm afeared it has shut the gates of heaven against my
sowl hereafter." "
Then I suppose you have the grace to be sorry this time
that you didn't behave more generously in my case," said
the fairy. "
True darlin'; if I wasn't, I wouldn't be here now,"
replied Terry. ," It was to thry and find you out that I
took this journey, an' a sore one it is to a man wid the
weight of years that's on my back." "
Oh, I forgot that you were such an ould creather
intirely," said the little fellow, with a merry whistle, "but
what the mischief makes you bend your back into an
apperciand, and hide your ears on your showlders, as if
the cowld was bitin' them." "
Faix, an' it's just because I'm afeered to sthraighten
myself out, that murdherin thief rheumatism has screwed
the muscles of my back so .tight." "
You can't stand up then, eh Terry ?" "
Not for this many a long day, sir, more is the pity,"
replied the other, with a heavy sigh. "
You don't tell me that," said the leprechaun, with a
queer expression of sympathy. "There could be no harm
thryin', any way." "
If I thought there would be any use in it, it's only too
glad that I'd be," said Terry. " There's
no knowin' what a man can do, until he makes
the effort."
Encouraged by these words, Terry commenced very
gingerly to lift his head from its long sunken position ; to his
infinite delight he found the movement unaccompanied
by the slightest twinge, and so, with a heart brim full of
overflowing joy,, he drew himself up to his full height without
an ache or a pain; tall, muscular, and as straight as
a tailor's yard.
The hurroo! that Terry sent forth from his invigorated
lungs, when he felt the entire consciousness of his return to
youth and its attendant freshness and strength, startled the
echoes of the mountain, like the scream of a grey eagle. "
And now, Misther Terry Magra," said tie leprechaun, "
I may as well tell you the exact period of time that has
transpired since I first had the pleasure of a conversation
with you; it is now exactly, by my watch," and he pulled
out a mite of a time-keeper from his fob—" there's nothing
like being particular in matters of chronology—jist fourteen
minutes and fifty-nine seconds, or to be more explicit, in
another minute it will be precisely a quarter of an hour." "
Oh, murdher alive, only to think!" cried Terry, gasping
for breath. "An' the wife an' childher, and the drunkenness
and misery I scattered around me." "
Served but to show you, as in a vision, the sure consequences
which would have resulted had you really been in
possession of the coveted gift you merely dreamed that you
had obtained; the life of wretchedness which you passed
through, in so short a space of time, is but one of many
equally unfortunate, some leading even to a more terrible
close. There are a few, however, I am bound to say, on
whom earthly joys appear to
shed a constant ray; but we,
to whom their inmost thoughts are open as the gates of
morning to the sun, know that those very thoughts are
black as everlasting night." "
What say you now, Terry ? Will you generously give
up your power over me, and by leading a life of industry
and temperance, insure for you and yours contentment,
happiness, and comfort, or will you, to the quelling- of my
fairy existence and its boundless joys, risk the possession
of so dangerous though dazzling a gift as I am compelled
to bestow upon you, should you insist on my compliance
with such a wish ?"
It must be confessed that Terry's heart swelled again at
the renewed prospect of sudden wealth, and inasmuch as
he exhibited, by the puzzled expression of his countenance,
the hidden thoughts that swayed, alternately, his good and
evil impulses, the leprechaun continued— "
Take time to consider—do nothing rashly; but weigh
well the consequences of each line of conduct, before you
decide irrevocably and for ever." "
More power to you for givin' me that chance, any
way,"4said Terry. " It woul'dn't take me long to make my
mind up, if it wasn't for what I've gone through; but, ' the
burnt child,' you know, ' keeps away from the fire.' Might
I ax, sir, how far you could go in the way of money ? for,
av I incline that way at all, bedad it won't be a peddlin
shillin' that I'll be satisfied with." "
Do you know Squire Moriarty ?" said the fairy.
Is it Black Pether ? who d
oesn't know the dirty thief of
the world ? Why, ould Bluebeard was a suckm' babby
compared to him, in the regard of cruelty." "
How rich is he ?" "
Be gorra, an' they say there's no countin' it, it's so
thremendous. Isn't he the gripinest an' most stony-hearted
landlord in the barony, as many a poor farmer knows,
when rent day's to the fore ?" said Terry. "
And how did he get his money ?" inquired the
leprechaun. "
Indeed, an' I b'lieve there's no tellin' exactly. Some
says this way, an' others that. I've heard say that he was
a slave marchint early in life, or a pirate, or something
aiqually ginteel an' profitable," replied Terry. "
They lie, all of them," the little fellow went on. " He
got it as you did yours, by a fairy gift, and see what it has
made of him. In his early days, there was not a finer-
hearted fellow to be found anywhere; everybody liked,
courted, and loved him." "
That's thrue enough," said Terry, " and now there ain't a dog on his estates
will wag a tail at him." " Weir, you may be as rich as he is, if you like,
ferry," said the fairy. " May I ?" cried Terry,
his eyes flashing fire at t
he idea. " He turned his poor old mo
ther out of doors, the other day," observed the leprechaun, quietly.
Terry's
bright thoughts vanished in an instant, and
indignation took their
place; for filial reverence is the
first of Irish virtues. " The murdherin' Turk!" he exclaimed,
angrily, " if I had a howld of him now, I'd squeeze the
sowl out of his vagabone carcass, for disgracin' the coun-
thry that's cursed with such an unnatural reprobate." "
It was the money that made him do it," said the
fairy. "
You don't tell me that, sir!" "
Indeed but I do, Terry. When the love of that takes
possession of a man's heart, there's no room there for any
other thought. The nearest and dearest ties of blood, of
friendship, and of kin, are loosed and cast away as worthless
things. You have a mother, Terry ?" "
I have, I have; may all good angels guard and keep
Ler out of harm's way," cried Terry, earnestly, while the
large tears gushed forth from his eyes. " .Don't say another
word," he went on, rapidly ; " if it was goold mines that
you could plant under every step I took, or that you could
rain dimonds into my hat, an' there was the smallest chance
of my heart's love sthrayin' from her, even the length of a
fly's shadow, it's to the divil I'd pitch the whole bilin', soon
an' suddent. So you can keep your grand gifts, an' yer
fairy liberty, an' take my blessin' into the bargain, for
showin' me the right road." "
You're right, Terry," said the leprechaun, joyously, "
an' I'd be proud to shake hands with you if my fist was big
enough. You have withstood temptation manfully, and
sufficiently proved the kindliness of your disposition. I
know that this night's experience will not be lost on you,
but that you will henceforth abandon the wild companionship
in the midst of which you have hitherto wasted time
and energy, forgetful of the great record yet to come, when
each misused moment will stand registered against you." "
And now, Terry," he continued, " I'll leave you to take
a little rest; after all you have gone through you must
sorely need it." So saying, the leprechaun waved a slip
of osier across Terry's eyelids, when they instantly closed
with a snap, down he dropped all of a heap upon the
springy moss, and slept as solid as a toad in a rock.
When Terry awoke, the morning was far advanced, and
the sun was shining full in his face, so that the first impression
that filled his mind was,
world of fire. He soon mastered that thought, however,
and then, sitting down upon the famous stone, began to collect
his somewhat entangled faculties into an intelligible
focus. Slowly the events of the night passed before him;
the locality of each phase in his adventures was plainly
distinguishable from where he sat. There, close to-him,
was the identical branch on which had perched the legion
of little pipers; a short distance from him was the mazy
hollow through which he had so singularly forced his way;
half hoping to find some evidence of the apparently vivid
facts that he had witnessed, he put his hand into his
breeches pocket, but only fished out a piece of pig-tail
tobacco.
As he ran over every well-remembered circumstance, he
became still more puzzled. It was clear enough that he
had been asleep, as he had but just woke up; but then he
was equally certain that he was wide awake when the leprechaun
touched his eyelids with the osier. Indeed, he
looked round in the expectation of seeing it lying somewhere
about; but there was no trace of such a thing.
The conclusion he came to was a characteristic one. "
By the mortial," said he, as, taking up his pipes, he sauntered
down the mountain-road, " there's sornethin' quare in
it, sure enough; but it's beyant my comprehendin'. The
divil a use is there in botherin' my brains about it; all I
know is, that there's a mighty extensive hive o' bees sing-
in' songs inside of my hat this blessed mornin'. I must,
put some whisky in an' drownd out the noisy varmints."
The chronicler of this veracious history regrets exceedingly
that he cannot, with any regard to the strict truth,
bring it to a conclusion in the usual moral-pointing style,
except in its general tendency, which he humbly considers
to be wholesome and suggestive; but the hero of the tale —
the good-for-nothing, wild roysterer, Terry, who ought,
of course, to have profited by the lesson lie had received
and to have become a sober, steady, useful, somewhat bilious,
but in every way respectable, member of society,
dressed in solemn black, and petted religiously by extatical
elderly ladies, did not assist the conventional denouement
in the remotest degree. With grief I am compelled to
record the humiliating fact, that Terry waxed wilder than
ever, drank deeper, frolicked longer, and kicked up more promiscuous shindies
than before, and invariably wound up the
account of his fairy adventures, which in process of time
he believed in most implicitly, by exclaiming : "
What a murdherin' fool I was not to take the money."
THE END
-
From:Humorous Stories, John Brougham, 1857.
To
return to the top click here
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 leith bhrogan, or
leith phrogan, and is in some places pronounced Luchryman, as O'Kearney
writes it in that very rare book, the Feis 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 phantoms. 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 himself
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 practical joking, especially with
gruesome joking. This he does, and nothing else.
The Fear-Gorta (Man of Hunger) is an emaciated phantom that goes
through the land in famine time, begging an alms and bringing good luck to the
giver.
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
porringers 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 another 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 persecutes. 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 Water-horse, the
Payshtha (píast = bestia), the Lake-dragon, and such like; but
whether these be animals, fairies, or spirits, I know not.
- From:Yeats, W.B,
Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry.1888.
The Leprehaun
*
THE Leprehauns are merry, industrious, tricksy little sprites, who do all
the shoemaker's work and the tailor's and the cobbler's for the fairy gentry,
and are often seen at sunset under the hedge singing and stitching. They know
all the secrets of hidden treasure, and if they take a fancy to a person will
guide him to the spot in the fairy rath where the pot of gold lies buried. It
is believed that a family now living near Castlerea came by their riches in a
strange way, all through the good offices of a friendly Leprehaun. And the
legend has been handed down through many generations as an established fact.
There was a poor boy once, one of their forefathers, who used to drive his
cart of turf daily back and forward, and make what money be could by the sale;
but he was a strange boy, very silent and moody, and the people said he was a
fairy changeling, for he joined in no sports and scarcely ever spoke to any
one, but spent the nights reading all the old bits of books he picked up in
his rambles. The one thing he longed for above all others was to get rich, and
to be able to give up the old weary turf cart, and live in peace and quietness
all alone, with nothing but books round him, in a beautiful house and garden
all by himself.
Now he had read in the old books how the Leprehauns knew all the secret
places where gold lay hid, and day by day he watched for a sight of the little
cobbler, and listened for the click, click of his hammer as he sat under the
hedge mending the shoes.
At last, one evening just as the sun set, he saw a little fellow under a
dock leaf, working away, dressed all in green, with a cocked hat on his head.
So the boy jumped down from the cart and seized him by the neck.
"Now, you don't stir from this," he cried, "till you tell me where to find
the hidden gold."
"Easy now," said the Leprehaun, "don't hurt me, and I will tell you all
about it. But mind you, I could hurt you if I chose, for I have the power; but
I won't do it, for we are cousins once removed. So as we are near relations
I'll just be good, and show you the place of the secret gold that none can
have or keep except those of fairy blood and race. Come along with me, then,
to the old fort of Lipenshaw, for there it lies. But make haste, for when the
last red glow of the sun vanishes the gold will disappear also, and you will
never find it again."
"Come off, then," said the boy, and he carried the Leprehaun into the turf
cart, and drove off. And in a second they were at the old fort, and went in
through a door made in the stone wall.
"Now, look around," said the Leprehaun; and the boy saw the whole ground
covered with gold pieces, and there were vessels of silver lying about in such
plenty that all the riches of all the world seemed gathered there.
"Now take what you want," said the Leprehaun, "but hasten, for if that door
shuts you will never leave this place as long as you live."
So the boy gathered up his arms full of gold and silver, and flung them
into the cart; and was on his way back for more when the door shut with a clap
like thunder, and all the place became dark as night. And he saw no more of
the Leprehaun, and had not time even to thank him.
So he thought it best to drive home at once with his treasure, and when he
arrived and was all alone by himself he counted his riches, and all the bright
yellow gold pieces, enough for a king's ransom.
And he was very wise and told no one; but went off next day to Dublin and
put all his treasures into the bank, and found that he was now indeed as rich
as a lord.
So he ordered a fine house to be built with spacious gardens, and he had
servants and carriages and books to his heart's content. And he gathered all
the wise men round him to give him the learning of a gentleman; and he became
a great and powerful man in the country, where his memory is still held in
high honour, and his descendants are living to this day rich and prosperous;
for their wealth has never decreased though they have ever given largely to
the poor, and are noted above all things for the friendly heart and the
liberal hand.
But the Leprehauns can be bitterly malicious if they are offended, and one
should he very cautious in dealing with them, and always treat them with great
civility, or they will take revenge and never reveal the secret of the hidden
gold.
One day a young lad was out in the fields at work when he saw a little
fellow, not the height of his hand, mending shoes under a dock leaf. And he
went over, never taking his eyes off him for fear he would vanish away; and
when he got quite close he made a grab at the creature, and lifted him up and
put him in his pocket.
Then he ran away home as fast as he could, and when he had the Leprehaun
safe in the house, he tied him by an iron chain to the hob.
"Now, tell me," he said, "where am I to find a pot of gold? Let me know the
place or I'll punish you."
"I know of no pot of gold," said the Leprehaun; "but let me go that I may
finish mending the shoes."
"Then I'll make you tell me," said the lad.
And with that he made down a great fire, and put the little fellow on it
and scorched him.
"Oh, take me off, take me off!" cried the Leprehaun, "and I'll tell you.
Just there, under the dock leaf, where you found me, there is a pot of gold.
Go; dig and find."
So the lad was delighted, and ran to the door; but it so happened that his
mother was just then coming in with the pail of fresh milk, and in his haste
he knocked the pail out of her hand, and all the milk was spilled on the
floor.
Then, when the mother saw the Leprehaun, she grew very angry and beat him.
"Go away, you little wretch!" she cried. "You have overlooked the milk and
brought ill-luck." And she kicked him out of the house.
But the lad ran off to find the dock leaf, though he came back very
sorrowful in the evening, for he had dug and dug nearly down to the middle of
the earth; but no pot of gold was to be seen.
That same night the husband was coming home from his work, and as he passed
the old fort he heard voices and laughter, and one said--
"They are looking for a pot of gold; but they little know that a crock of
gold is lying down in the bottom of the old quarry, hid under the stones close
by the garden wall. But whoever gets it must go of a dark night at twelve
o'clock, and beware of bringing his wife with him."
So the man hurried home and told his wife he would go that very night, for
it was black dark, and she must stay at home and watch for him, and not stir
from the house till he came back. Then he went out into the dark night alone.
Now," thought the wife, when he was gone, "if I could only get to the
quarry before him I would have the pot of gold all to myself; while if he gets
it I shall have nothing."
And with that. she went out and ran like the wind until she reached the
quarry, and than she began to creep down very quietly in the black dark. But a
great stone was in her path, and she stumbled over it, and fell down and down
till she reached the bottom, and there she lay groaning, for her leg was
broken by the fall.
Just then her husband came to the edge of the quarry and, began to descend.
But when he heard the groans he was frightened.
"Cross of Christ about us!" he exclaimed; "what is that down below? Is it
evil, or is it good?"
"Oh, comedown, come down and help me!" cried the woman. It's your wife is
here, and my leg is broken, and I'll die if you don t help me."
"And is this my pot of gold?" exclaimed the poor man. "Only my wife with a
broken leg lying at the bottom of the quarry."
And he was at his wits' end to know what to do, for the night was so dark
he could not see a hand before him. So he roused up a neighbour, and between
them they dragged up the poor woman and carried her home, and laid her on the
bed half dead from fright, and it was many a day before she was able to get
about as usual; indeed she limped all her life long, so that the people said
the curse of the Leprehaun was on her.
But as to the pot of gold, from that day to this not one of the family,
father or son, or any belonging to them, ever set eyes on it. however, the
little Leprehaun still sits under the dock leaf of the hedge and laughs at
them as he mends the shoes with his little hammer--tick tack, tick tack--but
they are afraid to touch him, for now they know he can take his revenge.
*Leprehaun, or Leith Brogan. means the "Artisan of the Brogue."
From: Ancient
Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland, Lady FrancescaSperanza
Wilde, 1887.
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The Leprechaun; or 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?--
"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!
Lay your ear close to the hill.
Do you not catch the tiny clamour,
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,
Ruin and round-tow'r, cave and rath,
And where the cormorants build;
From times of old
Guarded by him;
Each of them fill'd
Full to the brim
With gold!
III.
I caught him at work one day, myself,
In the castle-ditch, where foxglove grows,--
A wrinkled, wizen'd and bearded Elf,
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron-shot in his lap--
"Rip-rap, tip-tap,
Tick-tack-too!
(A grasshopper on my cap!
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;
Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,-
Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed,
Was gone!
* "Yellow bird", the yellow-bunting, or yorlin.
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Leprechaun Sayings
and Jokes
.What is little/ green traveling two hundred
miles per hour?
A leprechaun in a blender!
What would the Texass Leprechaun have?
A pot of chilli at the end of his rainbow!
How would you know a frog Leprechaun?
He would have a croak of gold!
What kind of Leprechaun would be in jaqil>
A leprecon!
Can you borrow money from a leprechaun?
No- He is always a little short.
Little and green and stuck to your bumper?
A leprechaun who didn't see you coming.
Leprechaun in the food service industry?
A short-order cook!
Why was the leprechaun on the
potato?
To stay out of the stew!
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