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While we do not require funding donations may help us bring more resources to the world and if you want to help us do that contact us at: cbladey@bcpl.net We thank you in advance for your kind assistance! 5 Minute Irish Stories Set 1 : 1-30 1.The Wayside Fountain Cenn Escrach of the orchards, a dwelling for the meadow bees, there is a shining thicket in its midst, with a drinking cup of wooden lathes. -Irish 9th-10th century 2. Daniel O' Connell and the Trickster There was a man living at Carhan, near Caherciveen, in the time of Daniel O' Connell. He was poor and he had a large family. One day he was selling two pigs- a white one and a black one- at Tralee fair. A buyer asked him how much he wanted for the white one, along with the black one. The poor man thought, and no wonder, that the buyer wanted only the white pig; so he named the price. The buyer immediately marked both pigs and took from his pocket only that which had been asked for the white one. " What do you mean?" asked the poor man. "You only inquired about the white pig" "That's a lie!" said the buyer. "Didn 't I ask you how much you wanted for the white one along with the black one?" The poor man could do nothing but give him the two pigs for the price of one. He returned home and told his story to his wife and to all the neighbors. It wasn't long till it spread all over the district, and everybody was sorry for the poor man. He told his story to Daniel O'Connell, who had great sympathy for him. "We'll get our own back on that buyer later on," said O'Connell. "Are you willing to cut off the lobe of your right ear?" "I am ," said he. O'Connell cut of the lobe of the man's right ear, put it into an envelope, and took it home. He asked the poor man to accompany him to Tralee next day to play a trick on the buyer. "He has a tobacco shop in Tralee," said O'Connell; "and we'll call into him. After a while, you must take out your pipe and take a whiff or two from it. I will then pass the remark that you don't smoke very much, and you must reply that you would smoke seven times as much, if you had the tobacco. I will then say that I'll give you all the tobacco you want." The following day, they both went to Tralee and went into the tobacco shop. The poor man pulled out his pipe, "reddened it, drew a few whiffs, and put it back into his pocket. "You don't smoke very much," said O'Connell to him. "I'd smoke seven times as much, if I had it," said the poor man. "Well, I'll give you plenty of tobacco," said O'Connell. He ordered the buyer to give the poor man as much tobacco as would reach from his toe to the lobe of his right ear and asked how much it would cost. "Eight shillings" said the buyer. "That's agreed" said O'Connell . The buyer then began to measure the length from the man's toe to the lobe of his right ear, but when he reached the ear, he found that the lobe was missing. He pretended nothing. "We have caught you!" said O'Connell. "That's not the lobe of his right ear. It is back in Carhan, if you know where that place is. So you must measure from his toe to Carhan!" The buyer was dumbfounded. He could say nothing. The O'Connell ordered him to pay the man for the black pig, and he would not insist on the tobacco at all. The buyer paid the money, and even something extra, and went off to his kitchen covered with shame. And no wonder!- 3. St. Mael Anfaidh and the Bird's Lament for St. Mo Lua This was the Mael Anfaidh who saw a certain little bird wailing and sorrowing. "O God" said he, "what has happened there ? I will not eat food until it is explained to me." While he was there he saw an angel coming towards him. "Well now, priest," said the angel," let it not trouble you any more. Mo Lua son of Ocha has died, and that is why the living things bewail him, for he never killed a living thing, great nor small; not more do men bewail him than the other living things do, and among them the little bird that you see" -Irish 9th-10th century 4. How celtchar Killed the "Brown Mouse" ....And this is the second plague next, namely the Brown Mouse; that is , a puppy which a widow's son found in the hollow of a tree-trunk, and the widow reared it until it was big, At last however it turned against the widow's sheep, and killed her cows and her son, and killed her herself; and went after that to the Great Pig's Glen. It would devastate a farmstead in Ulster every night, and lie asleep every day. "Rid us of it, Celtchar!"! said Conchobar. Celtchar went to the woods and brought away an alder log, and a whole was bored through it as long as his arm, and he boiled it in fragrant herbs and honey and grease, until it was supple and tough. Celtchar went to the cave where the Brown Mouse used to sleep, and entered the cave early before the Brown Mouse should come after its ravages. It came with its snout lifted up to the scent of the trunk, and Celtchar pushed the trunk out through the cave towards it. The hound took it in its jaws and set its teeth in it, and the teeth stuck in the tough wood. Celtchar dragged the trunk towards him and the hound dragged in the other direction; and Celtchar thrust his arm along inside the log, until he brought its heart up through its mouth, so that he had it in his hand. And he took its head with him.... -Irish ninth century 5. The Blackbird's Song The little bird has given a whistle from the tip of its bright yellow beak; the blackbird from the yellow-turfed bough sends forth its call over Loch Loigh -Irish 8th -9th Century 6. The Fox and the Eagle There came a very bad year one-time. One day the fox was near the shore of the Lakes of Killarney, and he couldn't find a bird or anything else to eat. Then he spied three ducks a bit out from the shore and thought to himself that if he could catch hold of them, he would have a fine meal. There was some water parsnip with very large leaves growing by the shore, and he swam out to it and cut off two big leaves of it with his teeth. He held one of them at each side of his mouth and swam toward the ducks. The never felt anything until he had taken one of them off with him. Very satisfied with himself, he brought her ashore, laid her down, and decided to try and catch the other two as well- 'tis seldom they would be an offer! He caught a second duck by the same trick and left her dead near the first. Then out he swam for the third and brought her in. But, if he did, there was no trace of the other two where he had left them . "May god help me!" said he. "I have only the one by my day's work. What'll I do? I wonder who is playing tricks on me." He looked all around but couldn't see an enemy anywhere. Then he looked toward the cliff that was nearby, and what did he spy but the nest of an eagle high up on it. "No one ever took my two ducks but the eagle," said he. "As good as I am at thieving, there's a bigger thief above my head." He didn't know how to get at the eagle. Then he saw a fire smoldering not far away, where men had been working at a quarry a few days before. They had a fire and it was still burning slowly under the surface of the ground. He dragged the duck to the fire and pulled her hither and thither through the embers. Then he left her down on the grass and hid. The eagle must have been watching out for the third duck too, for down he swooped and snatched her up to his nest. No sooner did the dead duck's body touch the dry nest than the nest caught fire---there were live embers stuck in the duck's feathers. Down fell the blazing nest with the three dead ducks as well as the eagle's three young ones inside it, so the fox had six birds for his supper. Didn't he get his own back well on the eagle? - 7. How Cobhthach Contrived his Brother's Death Cobhtach the Lean of Bregia, son of Ughaine M/or, was king of Br/egia; but Loeghaire Lorc, son of Ughaine, was king of Ireland. He too was the son of Ughaine M/or. Cobhtach was jealous of Loeghaire for the kingship of Ireland, so that a wasting sickness seized him, and his blood and his flesh withered from him, whence he was called "the Lean of Bregia"; but he had not succeeded in killing Loeghaire. Loeghaire was summoned to him after that, to give him his blessing before he died..."Come tomorrow," said Cobhthach, "to build my tomb and set up my gravestone and conduct the wake for me, and perform my funeral lament, for I shall shortly die" "Good", said Loeghaire, "it shall be done" "Well now, " said Cobhtach to his queen and his steward, "say that I am dead, without anyone else knowing, and let me be put in my chariot with a razor-knife in my hand. My brother will come hastily to bewail me, and will throw himself on to me; perhaps he will get something form me. " That came true. The chariot was brought out; his brother came to bewail him, and threw himself down on him. He planted the knife in him at his midriff so that the point came out of him at the tip of his heart, and he killed Loeghaire so... -Irish Ninth Century 8. Two Women or twelve Men There was a fox that had three young ones, and when the time came to teach them how to fend for themselves, the old fox took them to a house. There was great talk going on inside the house. He asked the first two young ones if they could tell him who was in the house. The couldn't. Then he tried the third. "Who is inside?" asked the old fox. "Either two women or twelve men," said the young one. "You'll do well in the world," said the old fox. 9. The Cat and the Dog Long ago the dog used to be out in the wet and the cold, while the cat remained inside near the fire. One day, when he was "drowned wet," the dog said to the cat, "You have a comfortable place, but you won't have it any longer. I'm going to find out whether I have to be outside every wet day, while you are inside. The man of the house overheard the argument between the two and thought that it would be right to settle the matter. "Tomorrow," said he, "I will start a race between ye five miles from the house, and whichever of ye comes into the house first will have the right to stay inside from then on. The other can look after the place outside." Next day, the two got themselves ready for the race. As they ran toward the house, the dog was a half -mile ahead of the cat. Then he met a beggar man. When the beggar man saw the dog running toward him with his mouth open, he thought he was running to bite him. He had a stick in his hand and he struck the dog as he ran by. The dog was hurt and started to bark at the beggar man and tried to bite him for satisfaction. Meanwhile the cat ran toward the house, and she was licking herself near the fire and resting after the race when the dog arrived. "Now," said the cat when the dog ran in, "the race is won, and I have the inside of the house for ever more. "- 10.St. Columba's nettle Broth Once when he was going round the graveyard in Iona, he saw an old woman cutting nettles for broth for herself. What is the cause of this, poor woman?" Said Colum Cille. "Dear Father" said she, "I have one cow, and it has not yet borne a calf; I am waiting for it, and this is what has served me for a long time." Colum Cille made up his mind then that nettle broth should be what should serve him mostly from then on for ever; saying,"Since they suffer this great hunger in expectation of the one uncertain cow, it would be right for us that the hunger which we suffer should be great, waiting for God; because what we are expecting, the everlasting Kingdom, is better, and is certain." And he said to his servant "Give me nettle broth every night," said he, "without butter or milk with it." "It shall be done", said the cook. He hollowed the stick for stirring the broth and made it into a tube, so that he used to pour the milk into that tube and stir it into the broth. Then the people of the church noticed that the priest looked well, and talked of it among themselves. This was told to Colum Cille, and then he said,"May your successors grumble for ever! Now!" said he to the servant, "what do you give me in the broth every day?" "You yourself are witness," said the menial, "unless it comes out of the stick with which the broth is mixed, I know of nothing in it except broth alone." Then, the explanation was revealed to the priest, and he said. "Prosperity and good deeds to your successor for ever!" And this has come true. -Irish 11th Century return to the top 11. The Man who Swallowed the Mouse There was a man in Rinnard one time. He felt very thirsty one evening after a day's mowing; so he took a bowl of thick milk to drink. The kitchen was half dark, as lamps and lights were scarce at that time. He swallowed the m ilk, and what was in it but a mouse! He never felt anything until he had swallowed the milk, mouse and all. Every day from that day on, especially when he would lie down, he could feel the mouse running about and dancing inside of him. At that time, the doctors were not as good as they are now, and no doctor or anybody else could help him. He told all of his friends about the mouse, for he knew that they wouldn't wish anything to be wrong with him. One woman came to see how he was, and she said that the best thing to do was to put a piece of roasted bacon and a piece of mutton on a plate on both sides of his mouth when he lay down in bed. The cat should be kept in the room too. When the mouse would smell the roasted meat, she would come out taste it. The man tried this remedy for three nights. On the third night didn't the mouse come out and start to eat the meat ! She hadn't eaten much before the cat killed her. The man lived to a great age after that happened. That story is as true as any I ever heard!- 12. The Hermit Blackbird Ah, Blackbird, it is well for you where your nest is in the bushes; a hermit that clangs no bell, sweet, soft, and peaceful is your call. -Irish 11-12th Century J 13. The Recognition of Ulysses ..."good people said the queen "who are you at all?" "I am Ulysses son of Laertes," said he. "You are not the Ulysses whom I know" said she. "I am indeed," he said, "and I will describe my credentials"; and then he told of their secrets and their talks together and their hidden thoughts. "What has happened to your looks or your men," said she, "if you are Ulysses?" " They are lost," he said "What was the last of your keepsakes that you left with me?" she said. "A golden brooch,"said he, "with a silver head; and I took your brooch with me when I went into the ship and it was then you turned back from me," said Ulysses. "That is true," she said "and if you were Ulysses you would ask after your dog." "I had not thought it would be alive at all," he said. "I made a broth of long life" said she, "because I saw that Ulysses loved it greatly. And what sort of dog at all is that dog?" she said. "It has white sides and a light crimson back and a jet black belly and a green tail," said Ulysses. "That is the description of the dog." She said, "and no one in the place dares give it its food except myself and you and the steward" "Bring the dog in" said he. And four men went to fetch it and brought it in with them. And when it heard the sound of Ulysses' voice, it gave a tug at its chain so that it laid the four men flat all over the house behind it, and, jumped at Ulysses ' breast and licked his face. When Ulysses' people saw that, they leaped towards him. Whoever could no get at his skin to kiss him covered his clothes with kisses... -Irish 13th. Century 14. The coming of Winter I have news for you; the stag bells, winder snows, summer has gone. Wind high and cold, the sun low, short its course, the sea running high. Deep red the bracken, its shape is lost; the wild goose has raised its accustomed cry. Cold has seized the bird's wings; season of ice, this is my news. -Irish ninth century J 15. The Smell of Money for the Smell of Food There were six young fellows visiting a town one day. One of them suggested that they go and eat some food. They had some drinks before that. The went into an hotel, and one of them ordered a meal for them all. Each was to pay his own share. A pound of meat was placed in front of each of them. One of the fellows told the woman to take away his own meat, as he wasn't going to eat it at all. "I won't," she said. "It was ordered and you can eat it or leave it." He ate a small bit of bread and took a cup of soup or tea, whichever it was. Tea wasn't very plentiful at that time. After the meal, each of the m went to pay his share, but this fellow wanted to pay only fro the read and the soup or tea. As they were about to leave, the woman snatched this fellow's hat at the doorway. He asked her to give it back to him, but it was no use. They started to argue about it, but she remained firm. Daniel O'Connell was walking along the street when he heard the argument and saw the young fellow bareheaded. He stopped and asked what was the trouble. "This is the trouble," said the fellow. "Five others and myself came to this woman to get a meal. One of us ordered a pound of meat for each. When she put the meat in front of me, I said I wouldn't have any and wouldn't eat it. She told me to eat it or leave it. I didn't taste the meat at all; so I didn't want to pay for it." "If this fellow didn't eat the meat," said O'Connell, "tis strange that he should have to pay for it. Give him back his hat." "He didn't have to eat it," said the woman. "The smell of my meat filled his belly." "You may be right in that," said O'Connell. "I have always herd that all a woman needs to do to get an excuse is to glance over her shoulder." O'Connell took off his own hat, put his hand into his trousers' pocket, and threw a fistful of silver into the hat. "Come over here now," said he to the woman. "Place you nose over this money and take your time smelling it. Fill your belly well with it." She was taken aback by that. "Does that satisfy you?" asked O'Connell. She was covered with shame and made no reply. "Give him his hat quickly, said O' Connell. "You have got as good a bargain as you gave." That ended the matter. The fellow got his hat and went off.- 16. Mo Chua's Riches ...Mo Chua and Colum Cille were contemporaries. And when Mo Chua (that is Mac Duach) was in a hermitage of the wilderness, he had no worldly wealth but a cock and a mouse and a fly.. The work the cock used to do for him was to keep matins at midnight. Now the mouse, it would not allow him to sleep more than five hours in a day and a night; and when he wished to sleep longer, being tired from much cross vigil and prostration, the mouse would begin nibbling his ear and so awoke him. Then the fly, the work it did was to walk along every line he read in his Psalter, and when he rested from singing his psalms the fly would stay on the line he had left until he returned again to read his psalms. It happened soon after this that these three treasures died; and Mo Chua wrote a letter afterwards to Colum Cille when he was in Iona in Scotland, and complained of the death of this flock. Colum Cile wrote to him, and this is what he said; "Brother, said he, "you must not wonder at the death of the flock that has gone from you for misfortune never comes but where there are riches".... -Irish, Geoffrey Keating 1634 17. The Sow and Her Banbh An old sow and her young banbh were thieving one day, and a dog was set to chase them. They ran at their best with the dog at their heels. "I won't go there any more, any more, any more," grunted the old sow. "That's what you say always, always always," grunted the banbh.- 18. Winter Cold Cold,cold, chill tonight is wide Moylurg; the snow is higher than a mountain, the deer cannot get at its food. Eternal cold! The storm has spread on every side; each sloping furrow is a river and every ford is a full mere. Each full lake is a great sea and each mere is a full lake; horses cannot get across the ford of Ross, no more can two feet get there. The fishes of Ireland are roving, there is not a strand where the wave does not dash, there is not a town left in the land, not a bell is herd, no crane calls. The wolves of Cuan Wood do not get repose or sleep in the lair of wolves; the little wren does not find shelter for her nest on the slopes of Lon. Woe to the company of little birds for the keen wind and the cold ice! The blackbird with its dusky black does not find a bank it would like, shelter for its side in the Woods of Cuan. Snug is our cauldron on its hook, restless the blackbird on Letir Cr/o; snow has crushed the wood here, it is difficult to climb up Benn B/o. The Eagle of brown Glen Rye gets affliction from the bitter wind; great is its misery and its suffering, the ice will get into its beak. It is foolish for you- take heed of it--to rise from quilt and feather bed; there is much ice on every ford; that is why I say "Cold!" - Irish, eleventh century J 19.The Old Crow Teaches the Young Crow There was an old crow long ago, and he made a nest. After a time, only one of his brood remained with him. One day the old crow took the young one out into the field to teach him how to fly. When the young crow had learned how to fly and was able to go to any part of Ireland, the old crow said, "I think that you are able to fly anywhere now and make your living by yourself. Before you go, I want to give you a little advice that will protect you from danger, as it has protected myself." "Tell it to me," said the young crow. "If you are ever in a potato field or cornfield and see a man coming toward you with something under his arm or in his hand, fly off immediately, fearing he may have a gun and may shoot you" "I understand," said the young crow. "Another bit of advice to you," said the old crow. "If you see a man bending down as he comes toward you in the field or on the road, fly off as fast as you can, for he will be picking up a stone to throw at you. If he has nothing under his arm and if he doesn't bend down, you're safe." "That's all very well," said the young crow, "but what if he has a stone in his pocket?" "Off you go," said the old crow. "You know more than myself !"- 20. The Best and Worst Nail in the Ark The shipwright who made the Ark left empty a place for a nail in it, because he was sure that he himself would not be taken into it. When Noah went into the Ark with his children, as the angel had told him, Noah shut the windows of the Ark and raised his hand to bless it. Now the Devil had come into the Ark along with him as he went into it and when Noah Blessed the Ark the Devil found no other way but the empty hole which the shipwright had left unclosed, and he went into it in the form of a snake; and because of the tightness of the hole he could not go out nor come back and he was like this until the Flood ebbed and that is the best and the worst nail that was in the Ark. --Irish 16th century return to the top 21. The Uglier Foot There was a tailor in Ballyvourney a long time ago. He had very big ankles, and the nickname the people had on him was "Tadhg of the Ankles" . At that time, tradesmen traveled from house to house, and the people used to gather in for sport and fun with them. One night Tadhg was sewing away, sitting on the table, and he had one of his legs stretched out from him. The woman of the house was sitting at the head of the table, between Tadhg and the fire. She noticed Tadhg's big ankle. "Upon my conscience, that's an ugly foot," said she. One or two people laughed at this. "Upon my conscience," said Tadhg, "there's a still uglier foot than it in the house." The woman of the house must have had badly shaped feet herself, and she thought that Tadhg was hinting at her. "There isn't an uglier foot than it in the whole world, " said she "Would you lay a bet on that?" asked Tadhg "I would said she. "I'll bet you a quart of whiskey that there's an uglier foot than it is in this house," said Tadhg. " I'll take that bet," said the woman. At that, Tadhg pulled his other foot from under him. "Now ," said he, "which is the uglier, the first foot or the second one?" "Upon my word, the second is a lot uglier," said the woman. "Very well," said Tadhg. "Send out for a quart of whiskey for me." "I will, indeed," said the woman. 22. The Wind It has broken us, it has crushed us, it has drowned us, O King of the star-bright Kingdom; the wind has consumed us as twigs are consumed by crimson fire from Heaven -Irish 8th-9th century 23. The Blacksmith and the Horseman There was a man one time, and he was very strong. He was full of money, and one day he put about twenty pounds of it into a purse. "I'll set out on my travels now," said he, "and I'll keep on going until I meet a man who is stronger than myself. If I meet him, he'll get this purse." So on he traveled, asking everyone if they knew of any strong man, until at last he was directed to a certain smith. When he reached the forge, he pulled up his horse outside the window without dismounting. "Have you anything in there to 'redden' my pipe for me?"he shouted to the smith. The smith picked up a live coal with the tongs, placed it on the top of the great anvil, took up the anvil by its snout with one hand and reached it out through the window to the horseman. The horseman took hold of the other end of the anvil, let the live coal slip into his pipe, and handed the anvil back to the smith. The smith put the anvil back on the block. "My horse needs a shoe. Have you any made?" asked the horseman. "I have," replied the smith, picking out a horseshoe. "This may do you," said he. "Give it here to me," said the horseman. When he got it he pulled it apart with his two hands. "That shoe was no good," said he. The smith gave him another shoe, but he broke it in two in the same way. "That one was no good either," said he. "Give me another." "What's the use in giving them to you?" asked the smith. "I'll try one more," said the horseman. The smith passed another shoe to him. "This will do," said the horseman. The smith put the shoe on the horse, and when he had the last nail driven,"How much do I owe you?" asked the horseman. "A half crown," said the smith. When the horseman handed him a half crown, the smith took it between his fingers and broke it in two. "That was no good," said the smith. The horseman gave him a second half crown, and the smith broke it in two again. "That was no good either. Give me another," said he. What's the use in giving them to you?" asked the horseman. "I'll try one more," said the smith. "This will do,"said he when he got the third half crown. The horseman took the purse out of his pocket. "Take this," said he. "You deserve it, for you are a stronger man than I am. I had a good hold on the shoes to break them, but you had hardly any hold on the half crowns that you broke"- 24. The Four Seasons Once upon a time Athairne came on a journey in the autumn to the house of his foster son Amhairghen ,and stayed the night there; and was about to leave the next day. But Amhairghen said to detain him: "A good season for staying is autumn; there is work then for everyone before the very short days. Dappled fawns from along the hinds, the red clumps of the bracken shelter them; stags run from knolls at the belling of the deer-herd. Sweet acorns in the wide woods, corn-stalks around the cornfields over the expanse of the brown earth. There are thorn-bushes and prickly brambles by the midst of the ruined court; the hard ground is covered with heavy fruit. Hazel-nuts of good crop f all from the huge old trees on dikes." Again he made to leave in the winder, but then Amhairghen said: "In the black season of deep winter a storm of waves is roused along the expanse of the world. Sad are the birds of every meadow plain, except the ravens that feed on crimson blood, at the clamor of harsh winter; rough, black, dark, smoky. Dogs are viscious in cracking bones ; the iron pot is put on the fire after the dark black day." Again he made to leave in the spring, but the Amhairghen said: "Raw and cold is icy spring, cold will arise in the wind; the ducks of the watery pool have raised a cry, passionately wailful is the harsh-shrieking crane which the wolves hear in the wilderness at the early rise of morning; birds awaken from meadows many are the wild creatures from which they flee out of the wood, out of the green grass." Again he made to leave in the summer, and Amhairghen said, letting him do so: "a good season is summer for long journeys; quiet is the tall fine wood which the whistle of the wind will not stir; green is the plumage of the sheltering wood; eddies swirl in the stream; good is the warmth in the turf." -Irish eleventh century 25.Winter has Come Winter has come with scarcity, lakes have flooded their sides, frost crumbles the leaves, the merry wave begins to mutter. -Irish 9th Century 26. Se/an na Scuab Long ago there was a poor man living in Buffickle, west in B/era. He was married. He made his living by making brushes and selling them in Cork a few times a year. After some years, the mayor of Cork died, and three men were in for the position. When the day of the election came, the three had the same votes. They went to a magistrate to decide between them, but he shook his head and said that he couldn't settle the mater. He told them to go out next morning to a certain place at the edge of the city and to tell their troubles to the first man who came along. Whoever that man named would become mayor. They did so. The first man to come along was Se/an of the Brushes with a load of brushes on his shoulder. The three of them stopped him and told him their story. He listened to them and said that it would be hard to bass over two of them and elect the other. So he told them that the best plan was to elect himself as mayor. They did so That was that. Se/an 's old wife was home when she heard that her husband was mayor of Cork with a gold chain across his chest and two gray horses drawing him from place to place. She set out and never stopped until she reached Cork. She looked about, and next day she saw Se/an being drawn by two gray horses, a Caroline hat on his head and a big gold chain hanging down from his neck. She went over to him. "Stay out from me, old woman!" he shouted. "Are you my husband, S/ean?" she asked. "I am," said he, "but keep away from me and don't pretend to know me. I don't even know myself!" 27. Arran Arran of the many stags, the sea reaches to its shoulder; island where companies were fed, ridge where blue spears are reddened. Wanton deer upon its peaks, mellow blaeberries on its heaths, cold water in its streams nuts upon its brown oaks. Hunting-dogs there, and hounds, blackberries and sloes of the dark blackthorn, dense thorn bushes in its woods, stags astray among its oak-groves Gleaning of purple lichen on its rocks, grass without blemish on its slopes, a sheltering cloak over its crags;gambolling of fawns, trout leaping. Smooth is its lowland, fat its swine, pleasant its fields, a tale you may believe; its nuts on the tips of his hazel-wood sailing of long galleys past it. It is delightful for them when fine weather comes, trout under the banks of its rivers, seagulls answer each other round its white cliff; delightful at all times is Arran. -Irish 12th century. 28.The Hill of Howth Delightful to be on the Hill of Howth, very sweet to be above its white sea; the perfect fertile hill, home of ships, the vine grown pleasant warlike peak. The peak where Finn and the Fianna used to be, the peak where were drinking-horns and cups, the peak where bold O Duinn brought Gr/ainne one day in stress of pursuit. The peak bright-knolled beyond all hills, with its hill-top round and green and rugged; the hill full of swordsmen, full of wild garlic and trees, the many coloured peak, full of beasts, wooded. The peak that is loveliest throughout the land of Ireland, the bright peak above the sea of gulls, it is a hard step for me to leave it lovely Hill of delightful Howth. -Irish 14th Century J 29.The Boorish Patron I have heard that he does not give horses for songs of praise; he gives what is natural to him-a cow -Irish 9th Century 30. C/u Chulainnn and the Charioteer ...They came thence on the next day across Ard, and C/uChulainn let them go on before him. At Tamhlachtae /Orl/aimh a little to the north of Disert L/ochaid he came upon the charioteer or /Orl/amh, son of Ailill and Medhbh, cutting wood there (or according to another source it was C/uChulainn's chariot shaft that had broken, and he had gone to cut a shaft when he met /Orl/amh's charioteer). "The Ulstermen are behaving disgracefully, if it is they who are over there," said C/uChulainn, "While the army is at their heels,". He went to the charioteer to stop him, for he thought he was one of the Ulstermen. He saw the man cutting wood for a chariot shaft. "What are you doing here? Said C/u Chulainn. "Cutting a chariot shaft," said the charioteer; "we have broken our chariots in hunting that wild doe C /uChulainn. Help me," said the charioteer, "but consider whether you will collect the poles or trim them," "I shall trim them, indeed," said C/u Chulainn. Then he trimmed the holly poles between his fingers as the other watched, so that he stripped them smooth of bark and knots. "This cannot be your proper work that I gave you," said the charioteer;he was terrified. "Who are you? Said C/u Chulainn. "I am the charioteer of /Orl/amh son of Ailill and Medhbh. And you? Said the charioteer. "C/u Chulainn is my name," said he. "Woe to me then!" said the charioteer. "Do not be afraid," said C/uChulainn, "where is your master"? "He is on the mound over there," said the charioteer. "Come along with me then," said C/uChulainn, "for I never kill charioteers," C/uChulainn went to /Orl/amh, and killed him, and cut off his head and brandished the head before the army. Then he put the head on the charioteer's back , and said, " Take that with you," said C/uChulainn, "and go to the camp so".... -Irish,Ninth Century ... 5 Minute Irish Stories Set 2 : 32-64 32. The Ived Tree-Top My little hut in Tuaim Inbhir, a mansion would not be more delightful, with its stars as ordained, with its sun, with its moon. It was Gob/an that made it (that its tale may be told you) my darling, God of Heaven, was the thacher who has thatched it. A house in which rain does not fall, a place in which spears are not feared, as open as if in a garden without a fence around it. -Irish 9th century 33. The Druid's Candle Saint Patrick came one night to a farmer's house, and there was a great candle shining in some place near, and three or four of the farmer's sons had got their death through it for every one that would see it would get his death. It was some evil thing that put it there, witchcraft that the Druids used to be doing at that time the way the Freemasons do it in England to this day. They do that, and they have a way of knowing each other if they would meet in a crowd. But Saint Patrick went to where the candle was, and it did him no harm and he put it out, and it was never lighted again in Ireland. 34. Cromwell's Bible One time Cromwell was planning to put a wall or a paling all a round the coast of England. He thought that was the only way to keep an enemy out. He had a huge, black Bible--it would take a horse to draw it!--and he had a servant always with him to take care of the Bible. One day, himself and the servant set out and they never stopped until they reached the coast. It w as a very warm day, and Cromwell was exhausted when he reached the sea. Drowsiness and sleep were coming over him, and he lay down on the strand to close his eyes. "Now," said he to the servant, "I'll stretch myself for a while, and you're to take care of the Bible until I awake. And as if your life depended on it, you're not to open it. If you do, it will be the worse for you!" He lay down and it wasn't long till he was snoring for himself. When the servant saw that he was asleep, "By heavens, it won't be long now till I find out what power is in this Bible!" He opened it and, if he did, it wasn't long until a small, stout man jumped out on the strand before his eyes, and then another and another until the strand was covered with them. None of them was the size of your thumb, and they all were running around and shouting: "Give me work! Give me work! Give me work!" The poor servant was terrified, I'd say, when he saw the huge crowd all over the strand, and his heart was full of fear that they would rouse Cromwell. "May the Devil take the pack of ye!" he shouted. "Where would I get work for ye? Why don't ye start making ropes out of the sand?" They started making ropes out of the sand, but, of course, if they were at it since, they couldn't make any ropes of it. They had to give up in the end, and told the servant that it was beyond their powers. "If that's the way with ye," said the servant, "I can't help ye. Off ye go in the name of the Devil to wherever ye came from, and don't be annoying me, yourselves and your work!" In they went, every single madman of them into the Bible, and when the servant was rid of the last one of them, I promise you that it didn't take him long to close the Bible on them. Nor did he open it again. When Cromwell had slept through, he s at up, took hold of the Bible and opened it, but, if he was opening it since, no help would come out of the Bible to him. "I'm afraid that you opened this Bible, fellow, while I was asleep", said he to the servant. "And if you did, that leaves England without a paling!" 35. Goban, The Builder The Goban was the master of sixteen trades. There was no beating him ; he had got the gift. He went one time to Quyin Abbey when it was building, looking for a job, and the men were going to their dinner, and he had poor clothes, and they began to jibe at him and the foreman said, "Make now a cat-and-nine-tails while we are at our dinner, if you are any good." And he took the chisel and cut in the rough in the stone, a cat with nine tails coming from it, and there it was complete when they came out from their dinner. There was no beating him. He learned no trade, but he was master of sixteen. That is the way, a man that has the gift will get more out of his own brain than another will get through learning. There is many a man without learning will get the better of a college-bred man, and will have better words too. Those that make inventions in these days have the gift, such a man now as Edison, with all he has got out of electricity. 36 .The Swine of the Gods A few years ago a friend of mine told me of something that happened to him when he was a young man and out drilling with some Connacht Fenians. The were but a car-full, and drove along a hillside until they came to a quiet place. The left the car and went further up the hill with their rifles, and drilled for a while. As they were coming down again they saw a very thin, long legged pig of the old Irish sort, and the pig began to follow them. One of them cried out as a joke that it was a fairy pig, and they all began to run to keep up the joke. The pig ran too, and presently, how nobody knew, this mock terror became real terror, and they ran as for their lives. When they got to the car they made the horse gallop as fast as possible, but the pig still followed. Then one of them put up his rifle to fire, but when he looked along the barrel he could see nothing. Presently they turned a corner and came to a village. The told the people of the village what had happened, and the people of the village took pitchforks and spades and the like, and went along the road with them to drive the pig away. When they turned the corner they could not find anything. 37. The Stuarts As to the Stuarts, there are no songs about them and no praises in the West, whatever there may be in the South. Why would there, and they running away and leaving the country the way they did? And what good did they ever do it? James the Second was a coward. Why didn't he go into the thick of the battle like the Prince of Orange? He stopped on a hill three miles away, and rode off to Dublin, bringing the best of his troops with him. There was a lady walking in the street at Dublin when he got there, and he told her the battle was lost, and she said, "faith you made good haste; you made no delay on the road." So he said no more after that. The people liked James well enough before he ran; they didn't like him after that.. 38. One Queer Experience A good many believe that the fairies will spirit away children. They will carry off a healthy child and leave instead a weazened little dwarf. One day they played that trick on a tailor, and he kept the dwarf several years and it didn't grow any, and was just the same shriveled little thing it was in the beginning. Finally, the tailor made up his mid what the matter was. So he heated his goose red hot and held it over the dwarf, and said, "Now, get out of here-- I know you!" But the dwarf never let on it noticed him; and the tailor lowered the goose little by little till it almost touched the dwarf's face. The n the dwarf spoke and said, "Well I'll leave, but first you go to the door and look round the corner." The man knew if he did that the dwarf would get the best of him and he said he would not. Then the dwarf saw 'twas no use, and it sprang out of the cradle and went roaring and cackling up the chimney, and a good child lay there in its place. I had one queer experience myself. It was the time of the Fenian troubles. I was sitting up late--I suppose it must have been after midnight --but I hadn't taken anything, and was as sober as I am this minute. Well, it got to be very late, as I said, and by and by, I heard strange noises, hundreds of them, and they were dragging dead bodies and all that. I could hear their breathing, and I could hear their clothing rub along against the wall. Then the ceiling and the sides of the room I was in began to wave. I took a candle and went out in the hall, and there was nothing there, doors all fastened, everything all right. Now, what do you make out of that? I never have been able to account for it myself. 39.Shortening the Road Himself and his son were walking the road together one day, and the Goban said to the son, "Shorten the road for me." So the son began to walk fast, thinking that would do it, but the Goban sent him back home when he didn't understand what to do. The next day they were walking, and the Goban said again to shorten the road for him, and this time he began to run, and the Goban sent him home again. When he went in and told the wife he was sent home the second time, she began to think, and she said, "When he bids you shorten the road, it is that he wants you to be telling him stories." For that is what the Goban meant, but it took the daughter-in-law to understand it. And it is what I was saying to the other woman, that if one of ourselves w as making a journey, if we had another along with us, it would not seem to be one half as long as if we wouldn't be alone. And if this is so with us, it is much more with a stranger, and so I went up the hill with you to shorten the road, telling you that story. 40. The Heather Beer People say that the Danes were able to make the sweetest of beer from the tops of the heather. But the Irish people could not get the secret of it from them, although they tried their best. When they were routing the Danes out of Ireland, they killed most of them until there were only two left alive, a father and son. The Irish made up their minds to try to get the secret of the beer from these two , or it would be lost for ever. So they said to the pair that were left that whoever of them would give up the secret would be let go free. Then the father spoke, and he said, "If that's the way things are and if only one of us will be let go alive, let ye kill the boy, and I will tell you how my people make the beer from the heather." The son was put to death, and then the father was asked to tell the secret. "Well," said he, " I asked ye to kill the boy first, because I was afraid that ye would get the secret out of him, if I died before him. Since he's dead now, I want to tell ye that ye won't get from me the secret ye at trying so hard to get. Ye'll never get it from me. Do what ye wish with me." The father was put to death, and the secret was never found since.--OS 46 41. Another Story Seumas Salach, Dirty James, it is he brought all down. At the time of the battle there was one of his men said," I have my eye cocked, and all the nations will be done away with," and he pointing his cannon. "Oh!" said James, "Don't make a widow of my daughter." If he didn't say that, the English would have been beat. It was a very poor thing for him to do. I used to hear them singing "The White Cockade" through the country--"King James was beaten and all his well-wishers; my grief, my boy, that went with them!" But I don't think their people had ever much opinion of the Stuarts; but in those days they were all prone to versify. But the Famine did away with all that. Sure King James ran all the way from Boyne to Dublin after the battle. There was a verse made about him. "It was the coming of King James that struck down Ireland, With his one shoe Irish and his one shoe English, He that wouldn't strike a blow and that wouldn't make a peace, he has left trouble for ever on the Gael." 42. The Baptism of Conor MacNessa Jong Ago people were few, and the priests used to travel about saying Mass and spending a night her and there. Some of them arrived at a house and they asked the boy to go out and cut some rushes with a sickle to make a bed. The boy went out to a clump of rushes, and a voice spoke to him from out the clump: "Don't put me out of my dwelling." The boy went away from the clump and told the priests in the house what had happened. "Didn't you bring the rushes?"they asked. "No Father," and he to one of them. "If I told you what I have heard, you wouldn't go there either." "Come along and show me where this was said." They went out to the clump. The priest put on his stole and read something, and a voice spoke from the clump. "Who are you?" asked the priest. "I am Conor of Ulster," said the voice. "How long have you been here?" "Since the Savior w as crucified," said the voice. "And what put you here?" asked the priest. "It happened this way. I was in a battle, and a piece of something entered my skull When I heard later on that the savior was crucified, frenzy came of my skull, and I died. The Savior then put my soul into my skull until the Day of Judgment." "I'll baptize you now, and you will go to Heaven," said the priest. "Must I die a second time?" asked the voice. "You must." "Oh, Father, I'd rather stay in my skull until the Day of Judgment," said the voice When the priest heard these words, tears fell from his eyes down on the clump, and Conor of Ulster immediately rose up from it like an angel. "I'm on my way to Heaven now, Father!" said he. "Your tears have baptized me!".---- To the top of this section 43. The Battle of Clontarf Clontarf was on the head of a game of chess. The generals of the Danes were beaten at it, and they were vexed; and Cennedigh was killed on a hill near Fermoy. He put the Holy Gospels in his breast as a protection, but he was struck through them with a reeking dagger. It was Brodar, that he Brodericks are descended from, that put a dagger through Brian's heart, and he attending to his prayers. What the Danes left in Ireland were hens and weasels. And when the crock crows in the morning the country people will always say "It is for Denmark they are crowing. Crowing they are to be back in Denmark." 44. A Pig on the Road from Gort There was a man coming along the road from Gort to Garryland one night, and he had a drop taken ,and before him on the road he saw a pig walking. And having a drop in, he gave a shout and made a kick at it and bid it get out of that. And from the time he got home, his arm had swelled from the shoulder to be as big as a bag, and he couldn't use his hand with the pain in it. And his wife brought him after a few days to a woman that used to do cures at Rahasane. And on the road all she could do would hardly keep him from lying down to sleep on the grass. And when they got to the woman, she knew all that happened, and says she:"It's well for you that your wife didn't let you fall asleep on the grass, for if you had done that but for an instant, you'd be a gone man." 45. The Queen of Breffny Devorgilla was a red-haired woman, and it was she put the great curse on Ireland, bringing in the English through MacMurrough, that she went from O'Rourke. It was to Henry the Second MacMurrough went, and he sent Strongbow, and they stopped in Ireland ever since. But who knows but another race might be worse, such as the Spaniards that were scattered along the whole coast of Connacht at the time of the Armada. And the laws are good enough. I heard it said the English will be dug out of their graves one day for the sake of their law. As to Devorgilla,she was not brought away by force, she went to MacMurrough herself. For there are men in the world that have a coaxing way, and sometimes women are weak. 46. Patrick Sarsfiled Sarsfield was a great general the time he turned the shoes on his horse. The English it was were pursuing him, and he got off and changed the shoes the way when they saw the tracks they would think he went another road. That was a great plan. He got to Limerick then, and he killed thousands of the English. He was a great general. 47. In Defense of Women Woe to him who speaks ill of women! It is not right to abuse them. They have not deserved, that I know, all the blame they have always had. Sweet are their words, exquisite their voice, that sex for which my love is great; woe to him who does not scruple to revile them, woe to him who speaks ill of women! They do no murder nor treachery, nor any grim or hateful deed, they do no sacrilege to church nor bell; woe to him who speaks ill of women! Certain it is, there has never been born bishop nor king nor great prophet without fault, but from a woman; woe to him who speaks ill of women! They are thrall to their own hearts, they love a man slender and sound-it would be long before they would dislike him. Woe to him who speaks ill of women! An old fat greybeard, they do not desire a tryst with him-- dearer to them is a young lad, though poor. Woe to him who speaks ill of women! --Irish, Earl Gerald Fitzgerald, 14th Century, J 48. King Henry VIII Henry the Eighth was crying and roaring and leaping out of the bed for three days and nights before his death. And he died cursing his children, and he that had eight millions when he came to the Throne, coining leather money at the end. 49. Sarsfield Surrenders and Rory takes to the Hills My uncle Donal used to tell me how his grandfather often told him that when Limerick at last surrendered to William of Orange and there looked nothing more to fight for, and that the French flag was set on one hill and William's flag on another for choice of the Irish fighters as they marched out; and when these thronged solid to the French, with brave Patrick Sarsfield at their head, one rough fellow, Rory, who in the fighting had drawn everyone's admiration, so reckless he was,-- this Rory struck away on his own. A captain of Sarsfield's headed for King Louis's flag, seeing Rory strike off by himself, called, "Rory, aren't you coming with us to France?" "No!" Rory answered , shortly "You're surely not going to William?" "No,no!" said Rory. "In the Lord's name, are you making no choice?" "I'm choosing Ireland." "You're mad. Ireland's lost, and there isn't a solitary soul left to fight for her." "You're standing on Ireland," Rory said, like that. "And I'm to fight for her." "But you haven't even a handful behind you, and England has a hundred thousand." "I 'll have be hind me an army more plentiful," said Rory, "than the hairs on your head." "What do you mean?" "Every angel God can spare He will strap a sword on and send to my helping-- and England's hundred thousand will melt like the mists before us." "When? " asked the captain with a chuckle. "In God's own good time. Maybe in a year, maybe five hundred years; but, be it soon or be it long. Rory wins." And his gun on his shoulder, Rory turned away and headed to the hills. 50. Magical Theft Well, these women were just ordinary country women like you still see around except that they were able to work this magic, whatever way they did it. If you had cows, they could take the "profit" of them from you. The milk you got from the cows would be useless, insipid and lifeless, and they would have the butter for themselves. There was a man living near here one time and he had eight cows. Day in day out, he used to see this hare running about, in and out among the cows in his fields. He didn't know what the hare was doing there, but he did notice that he was making nothing from the milk his cows were giving-- it was just like water. He had a dog, a pure black hound, and they say that a hound without a speck of white in it that has a rod of the rowan tree tied around its neck is the only animal that can catch a hare like that. So one day when he saw the hare among the cows, he loosed the hound after her. Hound and hare coursed the fields back and forward and finally the hare made a jump over a high stone wall and the hound caught her by the leg and broke it. The man knew that the hound had caught the hare, and when he came up to where they were what did he find there only an old hag who lived in the locality sitting by the wall with the blood pouring out of her. The hag was brought home and some time after that she died and the man went to the wake. The were going round with the whiskey at the hag's wake and he was offered a glass too. "Here, drink a glass for the old woman." they said. Indeed, I won't" said he "for I got my fill of her". May morning was a terrible time for working charms of all kinds but especially for stealing the "profit" of your milk. One May morning this man was coming up through Altnapaste and he saw this hag, back and forward through a field, pulling an iron chain after her and this is what she was saying: "Come all to me, come all to me." The man was riding on horseback on the road and watching all this and he shouts: "The half of it for me." That was all there was to that but when he got home he noticed that his cows had an awful lot of milk. All the vessels he had about the house were filled to overflowing with milk. He told the priest about it and eventually things were put right again. He had got half of what the old hag had been asking for herself. 51. A worse than Cromwell Cromwell was very bad but the drink is worse. For a good many that Cromwell killed should go to heaven, but those that are drunk never see heaven. And as to drink, a man that takes the first glass is as quiet and as merry as a pet lamb; and after the second glass he is as knacky as a monkey; and after the third glass he is as ready for battle as a lion; and after the fourth glass he is like as swine as he is. "I am thirsty" Tha Tort Orm," that was one of our Lord's seven words on the Cross, where he was dry. And a man far off would have given him drink; but there was a drunkard at the foot of the Cross, and he prevented him. 52. Willie Brennan Brennan was born in Kilmurry, near Kilworth. He listed in the army and then he deserted out of it. They were hunting him around the country day and night. One day outside at Leary's Bridge, Brennan met the Pedlar Bawn. I never heard him called by another name. The Pedlar was traveling for a firm in Cork, going about the country selling different kinds of things. Brennan put the blunderbuss up to him and made him hand out what he had watch and chain and all. Then the Pedlar asked him to give hi m some token to show to the people of the firm in Cork that he had met him. "Tell them that you met Brennan the Highwayman." "Give me some token that you met me, or I'll be put to jail," said the Pedlar. "What have I to do for you?" asked Brennan. "Fire a shot through this side of my old coat," said the Pedlar. He did. "Fire another through this side now," said the Pedlar. So he did. "Here! Said the Pedlar. "Fire another through my old hat." Brennan did. "Come!" said the Pedlar. "Fire another through my old cravat." "I have no more ammunition," said Brenna. The Pedlar then drew a pistol, whenever he had it hid. "Come! Said he. "Deliver!" Brennan had to deliver, quick and lively too! "You're a smarter man than me," said he. "All I ever went through, I robbed army, men and lords, and you beat me. Will you make a comrade for me?" The Pedlar only flung his pack over the ditch. "I will," said he. "I'll stand a loyal comrade until my dying day." And so he was, a loyal comrade. "We'll go along to County Tipperary, " said Brennan. "Tis a wealthy county. There's agents and landlords and there going around the country gathering the rent in the houses, and we'll whip them going back in the evening." So the two of them went along to the County Tipperary. Brennan went in to a widow there one morning. The poor woman was crying and lamenting. He asked her what was the matter with her. "What good is it for me to tell you, my good man? Said she. She didn't know but he was a tramp. "How do you know? " Said he. "The agent is coming here by and by, and I haven't a halfpenny to give him for the rent, "said she. "Well, what would you say to the man who'd give it to you?" s aid Brennan. He asked her how much it was, and she told him --five or six pounds, I suppose. He counted it out to her. "Tell me now," said he, "the road he goes home in the evening." She told him the road he'd take after giving the day gathering around. He made her go down on her knew then and swear to God and to him that she would never tell anyone that she saw him, or mention that anyone gave her the money. Himself and the Pedlar met the agent going home with the money and whipped the whole lot that he had gathered that day . Brennan is buried over in Kilcrumper near the old church wall. To the top of this section 53 . A son of the Dean There was a son of Dean Swift was a great rider, and the Dean made him a bet of two hundred pounds that he would not leap over the drop at the edge of the cliffs of Moher, where there is a wall close to the brink. But the son made a leap sideways over the wall, that was standing sideways the same as that press, and so he was over the drop in the leap, but he landed again on the ground. He won the two hundred pounds doing that. There was another son of the Dean that was called Fireball, and that used to put his own son standing out in the front of the house and an egg on his head, and he would fire his gun and put the two halves of the egg to different sides. Hadn't the son a great nerve to stand and let him do that? But fireball said he would shoot him if he did not. 54. Saint Kevin One day in spring before the blossoms were on the trees, a young man grievously afflicted with the falling sickness fancied that an apple would cure him, and the dickens an apple tree at all was about the place. But what mattered that to the Saint! He ordered a score of fine yellow pippins to grow upon a willow, and the boy gathered and ate and was cured. The Saint was one day going up Derrybawn, and he meets a woman that carried five loaves in her apron. "What have ye there, good woman?" says the Saint. "I have five stones" says she "If they are stones," says he, "I pray that they may be bread. And if they are bread," says he, "I pray that they may be stones." So, with that, the woman lets them fall, and sure enough, stones they were, and are to this day. The Saint managed to get from King O' Toole a grant of the land upon which he built his churches. The king was old and weak in himself, and took a mighty liking to a goose, a live goose,. And in course of time the goose was like the master , old and weak. So O'Toole sent for his Holiness. And his Holiness went to see what would the pagan--for King O'Toole was a heathen--want with him. "God save ye," says the Saint. "God save ye kindly," says the king. "A better answer than I expected," says the Saint. "Will ye make my goose young?" says the king. "What'll ye give me? Says the Saint. "What'll ye ask? Says the king. "All I'll ask will be as much of the valley as he'll fly over." Says the Saint. "Done," says the king. So with that Saint Kevin stoops down, takes up the goose, and flings him up, and away he goes over the lake and all round the Glen, which in course was the Saint's hereditary property from that day out. 55 . The Man Who Lost his Shadow A man named Brasil bought an island from a Danish chieftain, but the chieftain had to go back to Lochlainn before the bargain was completed. Brasil had to travel to Lochlainn after him to get the papers from him. He spent a long time looking for him here and there, until at last he was directed to the chieftain's castle. Brasil went in and found the chieftain sitting at a table which was covered with all kinds of documents. The chieftain welcomed him and gave him food and drink. Brasil then told him that he had come from Ireland to get the papers dealing with the agreement. " I have them here," said the chieftain. "But maybe you would like to stay here in this place with us. I promise that you will be well off--better off than you would be at home." "Oh, I wouldn't stay at any price, " said Brasil. "Give me the papers and let me be off." "Very well," said the chieftain. "But seeing that you won't stay with us, I'll have to keep your shadow instead of yourself". "But I can't leave that behind," said poor Brasil. "I couldn't live without it." The Dane gave him the papers. Brasil snatched them from him and rushed out the door like a shot. But when he was passing the window, the sun cast his shadow in through the window. The Dane put a big book on top of the shadow and held it there. It is said that nobody named Brasil has had a shadow ever since.- 56 . Saint Finbar Long long ago, before Saint Finbar came to Gougane, the little lake was between the mountains, and on a calm day you would like to be looking at it, the water was so still. At that time there was a small house there and a widow and her son lived in it. They had one cow, and every day the son would mind the cow while his mother was busy around the house. One day when he went down to the lake, what did he see, instead of the water, but an ugly serpent that was almost as big as one of the hills around. The boy was terrified and he ran home. They didn't know from him where the serpent had come or why she came, so there was great excitement around the place. The serpent remained there and came out every day and swept off anything she met. At last the people of the district were ruined, and were afraid to go outside their does. Saint Finbar came to the district and the people begged him to do something for them. They had no great faith in the saint for the parish priest had spent his time trying to banish the serpent. That was good and it wasn't bad. One night when the great world was asleep, and the serpent along with them, Saint Finbar went out with tow of his friars. He never halted until he reached the lake. He walked around it three times , praying. When he reached the mouth of the lake the third time, he stopped, took out a small bottle of holy water that he had, and sprinkled it three times on the serpent. The serpent shook herself and let out a roar that shook the hills round about. Then she moved from where she was and tore and devoured the land until she came to where Lough Loo is today. She made a bed there for herself. Next morning she moved on again and never stopped till she reached Cork Harbor. There she entered the sea. Water has filled the track she left behind her , and that's the River Lee today. The people of the place were so grateful to Saint Finbar that they drew stones and earth and made a small island in the middle of the lake. There he built a monastery. 57. Emmet's Dress It was a pity to hang so fine a man. I was looking at his picture a while ago, and his dress, very nice, knee breeches and a collar turned over, they dressed very nice in those days. But now you'll see a man having a thing stiff the same as a washboard in front of him ,and one button in it, and you wouldn't know has he a soutane under it or anything at all. It is likely the linen Emmet was wearing was made at home, for I remember the days when every house had flax sowed in the garden. There was a man going to be hanged in Galway one time and his wife went to see him the night before, and all s he said was. "Where will I sow the flax this year?" He was vexed at that and he said, "Is that all you are come to say to me?" "Is it that you are in a sulk because you are going to be hanged in the morning?" says the wife. That was all she said. 58. Happy for You, Blind Man! Happy for you, blind man, who see nothing of women! Ah, if you saw what I see you would be sick even as I am . Would God I had been blind before I saw her curling hair, her white flanked splendid snowy body; ah, my life is distressful to me. I pitied blind men until my peril grew beyond all sorrow, I have changed my pity, though pitiful, to envy; I am ensnared by the maid of the curling locks. Alas for him who has seen her, and alas for him who does not see her every day; alas for those trapped in her love, and alas for those who are set free! Alas for him who goes to meet her, and alas for him who does not meet her always, alas for him who was with her, and alas for him who is not with her! -Irish, Uilliam Ruadh; 16th Century 59.The Binding O'Connell was a great man, wide big arms he had. It was he left us the cheap tea; to cheapen it he did, that was at that time a shilling for one bare ounce. His heart is in Rome and his body in Glasnevin. A lovely man, he would put you on your guard; he was for the country, he was for all Ireland. 60. The Best Road to Heaven There was a woman I knew was very charitable to the poor; and she'd give them the full of her apron of bread, or of potatoes or anything she had. And she was only lately married. And one day, a poor woman came to the door with her children and she brought them to the fire, and warned them and gave them a drink of milk; and she sent out to the barn for a bag of potatoes for them. And the husband came in, and he said:"Kitty, if you go on this way, you won't leave much for ourselves." And she said: "He that gave us what we have, can give us more." And the next day when they went out to the barn, it was full of potatoes--more than were ever in it before. And when she was dying, and her children about her, the priest said to her:"Mrs. Gallagher, it's in Heaven you'll be at twelve o'clock tomorrow. 61.The Black Art A man and his wife were living in Malinmore long ago, and they had an only daughter, a young girl. As with every couple of that kind, the daughter was the apple of their eye. One day the father was cutting turf at Rossmore. When dinnertime came, the mother sent the girl with food, consisting of some broth in a wooden dish, to her father. There were only wooden vessels at that time. The father sat down at the edge of the bog to take his meal. It was a fine day, and the two of them were looking out over the s ea. It wasn't long until a large sailing ship came into view, making for the mouth of the river. "Isn't that a fine large ship?" said the little girl to her father. "It is, indeed! " said he. "I wonder--where is she going to?" said the girl. "I'd say she was making for Killybegs." "Well, if I wished so now, she would never reach there, big and all as she is," said the girl. "Shut up, you little fool!" said the father. "What could you do to a ship that's out on the sea? Have 50.sense in what you say." The girl made no reply and waited until her father had finished his meal. Then she took the dish to wash it in the pool of water in the bog. When she had done that, she started to play tricks with he dish in the water. The father was lighting his pipe and took no notice of what she was doing; he thought she was only washing the vessel. Soon she spoke to him. "Look now, father, and see what I can do with that ship," said she. The father looked out to sea and saw that ship, which should have been making for the river mouth, was coming straight for the cliffs below them. "Who taught you how to do that?" he asked. "My mother," said she "And what are you going to do to the ship when you get her near the shore?" he asked. "As soon as I get her near enough to the rocks, I can turn this dish upside down and the same will happen to the ship on the sea," said she. "I see," said the father. "And you tell me that it was your mother who taught you this?" "She did, indeed," said the girl. At any rate, the girl let the ship go free, and it floated out to the open sea again. The little girl took the dish home, and her father passed no remark on whether what she had learned from her mother as good or bad. That night, when he returned from the bog, he cleaned and washed himself well and put on his best suit of clothes. He left the house that night, and wherever he went, his wife and daughter never saw him again for the rest of their lives. He was angry to learn that he had married a woman who practiced the black art. Had she not taught some of it to her daughter, he would never have found out. But the girl had let the cat out of the bag, and that left her without seeing her father any more. Wasn't it strange, whatever place he went to, that he was never seen again? 62.The Terry Alts The Terry Alts were a bad class; everything you had they'd take from you. It was against herding they began to get the land, the same as at the present time. And women they would take; a man maybe that hadn't a perch of land would go to a rich farmer's house and bring away his daughter. And I, supposing, to have some spite against you, I'd gather a mob and do every bad thing to destroy you. That is the way they were, a bad class and doing bad deeds. One of hem went to confession to the priest, that asked him how many crimes did he do, and he said, "I was at thirteen killings between Clare and Connacht." He met with a dreadful death. His tongue came four inches out, that neither priest nor doctor could put it in. To the top of this section 63.Finn's Generosity If the brown leaves were gold that the wood lets fall, if the white wave were silver, Finn would have given it all away. -Irish 12th Century 64. Parnell Parnell was a very good man, and a just man, and if he had lived to now, Ireland would be different to what it is. The only thing ever could be said against him was the influence he had with that woman. And how do we know but that was a thing appointed for him by God? Parnell had a back to him, but O'Connell stood alone. He fought a good war in the House of Commons. Parnell did a great deal, getting the land. He wouldn't like at all that you'd wrong the poor. I often heard he didn't die at all--it was very quick for him to go. I often wondered there were no people smart enough to dig up the coffin and to see what is in it, at night they could do that. No one knows in what soil Robert Emmet was buried, but he was made an end of sure enough. Parnell went through Gort one day, and he called it the fag-end of Ireland, just as Lady Morgan called the North the Athens of Ireland. ... 5 Minute Irish Stories Set 3: 65-94 65. The Cow that Ate the Piper There were three spalpeens coming home to Kerry from Limerick one time after working there . On their way, they met a piper on the road. "I'll go along with ye," said the piper. "All right," they said. The night was very cold, freezing hard, and they were going to perish. They saw a dead man on the road with a new pair of shoes on his feet. "By heavens! " said the piper. "I haven't a stitch of shoes on me. Give me that spade to see can I cut off his legs." "Twas the only way he could take off the shoes. They were held on by the frost. So he took hold of the spade and cut off the two feet at the ankles. He took them along with him. They got lodgings at a house where three cows were tied in the kitchen. "Keep away from that gray cow," said the servant girl, "or we'll eat your coats. Keep out from her.." They all went to sleep. The three spalpeens and the piper stretched down near the fire. The piper heated the shoes and the dead man's feet at the fire and got the shoes off. He put on the shoes and threw the feet near the gray cow's head. Early next morning he left the house wearing his new pair of shoes. When the servant girl got up, she looked at the door. It was bolted, and the three spalpeens were asleep near the fire. "My God!" she cried. "There were four of ye last night, and now there are only three. Where did the other man go?" "We don't know," they said. "How would we know where he went?" She went to the gray cow's head and fond the two feet. "Oh my! She cried. "He was eaten by her." She called the man of the house ."The gray cow has eaten one of the men," said she. "What's that you're saying?" asked the farmer. "I'm telling the truth " she said "There's only his feet left. The rest of him is eaten". The farmer got up. "There were four of ye there last night, men," said he. "There were," said one of the spalpeens, "and our comrade has been eaten by the cow." "Don't cause any trouble about it," said the farmer. "Here's five pounds for ye. Eat your breakfast and be off. Don't say a word." They left when they had the breakfast eaten. And they met the piper some distance from the house, and he dancing on the road. Such a thing could happen!- return to the top 66.A prophecy It is likely there will be a war at the end of the two thousand, that was always foretold. And I hear the English are making ships that will drive the same as diving ducks under the water. But as to the Irish Americans, they would sweep the entire world; and England is afraid of America, it being a neighbor. 67. She's the White Flower of the Blackberry She's the white flower of the blackberry, she's the sweet flower of the rasbery, she's the best herb in excellence for the sight of the eyes. She's my pulse, she's my secret, she's the scented flower of the apple, she's summer in the cold time between Christmas and Easter. -Irish, folksong before 1789 J 68. The English Law A man at Duras was telling me that the English will not be put down till the time the sea will get dry, and it is as well, for without their law in the country the Irish would have one another ate and killed. But the Germans are like starlings going through the air, and the prophecy of Columcille is coming true that the time would come when an old man would be turned three times in the bed to know could he show garrison duties in the barracks and to know could he go to the war when the best soldiers would be gone. In the Crimea it was in a song that the Russians were coming on ahead, and in no dread, but that the English would put them to fear in no time. 69. The Man from Kilmacoliver Now the Cross at Ahenny is in the graveyard, and a man from Kilmacoliver was passing by one day (and he was so mean that his soul was as narrow as a knitting needle, and if you had a cold in the head he would grudge it to you) --well, when he saw the cross he said to himself:"That would make a grand hone for my scythe, if I sawed off an arm of it." He went home and got his saw and he began to saw it off, and he looked up and saw his house on the opposite hill at Kilmacoliver was on fire, and he dropped his saw and ran to save his house, and when he got there it was no fire, only the setting sun shining on the windows. Still and all, he would not be warned, and he called his son, who was a young lad, to go back with him. And the young lad was to carry back the arm of the Cross when it was sawed off. And they went back, and he picked up the saw, and began to saw again in the same notch, and as he sawed, drops of blood f ell from the notch he had made and fell on him, and he gave one mighty skirl that was heard as far as Mullinahone, and the echo of it as far as Grangemockler and Toor, and even to Kilcash, and he fell down with the falling sickness, and the young lad ran off for help. And when the people came, he was wriggling like an eel, but no matter how he twisted, the blood drops still fell on him, and each place they dropped on was burned through to the bone, and in the latter end he died and it was as well. 70. An Old Man's Prophecy (1923) I tell you the English will be back again and this Government put out. It is certain they will come back. It is in Columcille's prophecy. There was a Lord one time was with O'Brien in Dromoland, and O'Brien promised him whatever he would ask and he said, "Give me the house of Dromoland and the lands." So he agreed to that. But then he said he had some request to make, and the Lord said he would give it. And he said, "Give me the house and the lands of Dromoland back again"; and he had to give it. That will be the way with the English. They gave up Ireland, but they have their two eyes fixed on it, till they will get it back again. 71.The Four leafed Shamrock and the Cock There was a great fair being held in Dingle one day long ago. Tis a good many years ago, I think. All of the people were gathered there as usual. Whoever else was there, there was a showman there, and the trick that he had was ac cock walking down the street ahead of him drawing a big, heavy beam tied to his leg. At least, all the people thought that it was a beam, and everyone was running after him, and as he went from street to street, the crowd was getting bigger all the time . Each new person who saw the cock and the beam joined in the procession. Then there came up the street a small old man carrying a load of rushes on his back. He wondered what all the people were looking at. All that he could see was a wisp of straw being dragged along by a cock. The thought that everybody had gone mad, and he asked them why they were following the cock like that. Some of them answered him, "Don't you see the great wonder?" they said. "That great beam of wood being dragged after him by that cock, and he's able to pull it through every street he travels and it tied to his leg ?" "All that he's pulling is a wisp of straw," replied the old man. The showman overheard him saying this. Over to him he went, and he asked him how much he wanted for the load of rushes he had on his back. The old man named some figure--to tell the truth, I can't say how much he wanted for the load of rushes he had on his back--but whatever it was, the showman gave it to him. He would have given him twice as much. As soon as the showman took the load of rushes off the old man's back, the old man followed after the crowd, but all that he could see was the cock pulling a heavy beam tied to his leg. He followed him all over Dingle. What happened was that the old man had a four -leafed shamrock, unknown to himself, tied up in the load of rushes. That's what made what he saw different from what the people saw, and that's why the showman paid him three times the value for the rushes. He told the people, and they gave up the chase. I heard that story among the people, and it could be true, because the four-leafed shamrock has that power.--OS41 72.The Wolf's Prophecy It chanced one day not long after the coming of the Gall from England into Ireland there was a priest making his way through a wood of Meath. And there came a man fornest him and bade him for the love of God to come with him to confess his wife that was lying sick near that place. So the priest turned with him and it was not long before he heard groaning and complaining as would be heard form a woman but when he came where she was lying it was a wolf he saw before him on the ground. The priest was afeared when he saw that and he turned away; but the man and wolf s poke with him and bade him not to be afeared but to turn and confess her. Then the priest took heart and blessed him and sat down beside her. And the wolf spoke to him and made her confession to the priest and he anointed her. And when they had that done, the priest began to thinking in himself that she that had that mislikeness upon her and had grace to speak, might likely have grace and the gift of knowledge in other things; and he asked her about the strangers that were come into Ireland, and what way it would be with them. And it was what the wolf said:" It was through the sin of the people of this country Almighty God was displeased with them and sent that race to bring them in to bondage, and so they must be until the Gall themselves will be encumbered with sin. And at that time the people of Ireland will have power to put on them the same wretchedness for their sins." 73. Young Lad of the Braided Hair Young lad of the braided hair, with whom I was a while together, you went this way last night and did not come to see me; I thought it would do you no harm if you came to seek me, and that a little kiss of yours would give me comfort if I were in the midst of a fever. If I had wealth and money in my pocket I should have a short cut made to the door of my love's house, hoping to God I should hear the sweet sound of his shoe; and fort many a day I have not slept but in hopes for the taste of your kiss. And I thought my sweetheart, that you were the moon and the sun and I thought after that that you were the snow on the mountain, and I thought after that the at you were lightening from God, or that your were the Pole Star going before and behind me. You promised me silk and satin, hoods and shoes with high heels, and you promised after that you would follow me swimming; I am not like that, but like a hawthorn in the gap every evening and every morning watching my mother's house. -Irish Traditional Song J 74. The Three Questions It was this codger and he was hired as a heardsboy to a bishop. Things were bad in Ireland at the time: the enemy had come and conquered the country and took the land and was killing before them, priest and people. So this evening the heardsboy come home and he seen the bishop walking up and down and looking very down-in-the-mouth. "My Lord Bishop," says the herdsboy, "what ails you? You look very downhearted?" "I'm to die in the morning," says the bishop. "How is that? Says the herdsboy. "I'm to lose me head," says the bishop. "The chief that took over this country" he says, "sent for me this morning and give me three questions to answer by the morra morning and if I'm not fit he's to take the head off me. " "What's the three questions, my lord?" says the herdsboy. "I might be fit to help." "You could not, " says the bishop. "You might only lose your own head as well." Anyway he got the bishop to tell him, and the herdsboy said that he would go in place of the bishop next morning and to leave all to him. "You'll only lose your head, too " says the bishop. Morning come and the herdsboy set off and meets this big fellow and stands before him. "How are you?" says he. "I'm herdsboy to the Lord Bishop," says he. "Why didn't he come himself?" says he. "The Lord Bishop didn't think it worth his while," says he, "to come himself to answer three simple questions." "Then if you're not fit to answer them you 'll lose your head," says this big fellow. "Fair enough," says the herdsboy. "Here's my first question then," says the big fellow. "What's the first thing I think of in the morning when I rise?" "What you'll eat," says the herdsboy. "That's right," says he. "Now here's me second question: How many loads of sand are there round the shores of Ireland?" "One," says the herdsboy, "if you had a cart big enough to hold it." "Right, says the big fellow. "And now here's my third and last question: How much am I worth?" "Twenty-nine pieces of silver," says the herdsboy. "How do you make that out?" "Well, our Lord God Himself was sold for thirty pieces," says the herdsboy, "and you can't be as good as Him." And he got him and the bishop off. 75. The Child from the Sea One day in the olden times, a fisherman from Errismore was fishing for gurnet. The day was very fine, and fish were plentiful. Toward evening, the fisherman felt a great weight on his line and thought that he had hooked a heavy fish. He started to haul it in, and when he had it on board, what had he caught but a male child! His hair was as red as the coat of a fox. The hook was stuck into his cheek. The fisherman was very proud of his catch. The boy ran up under the forward half of the boat and stayed there. The fisherman took him home, but as soon as he let him down on the floor, the boy rushed in under a bed, and even a man with a pitchfork couldn't get him out. There he stayed until the following day. They tried by every means to get him to eat and drink, but it was no use. The man went to the priest and told him what had happened. "You must take him out again, as close as you can to the spot where you caught him," said the priest, "and put him back into the sea again." The fisherman took him in the boat next day and rowed toward the place where he had caught him. When they were near the spot the boy gave a big laugh. He jumped, legs up, out of the boat, dived down like a cormorant, and was seen no more.--OS33 76. A Vain Pilgrimage Coming to Rome, much labour and little profit! The King whom you seek here, unless you bring Him with you will not find Him. - Irish 9th century.J 77. The Magic Pigs of Cruachu ...Out of (the magic cave of Cruachu)it also came these pigs. Neither corn nor grass nor leaf would grow for seven years in any place that they frequented. Wherever they would be counted, they would not stay, but if anyone tried to count them they would go to another land. They were never completely counted; but "There are three", said one; "More seven" said another; "There are nine" said another; Eleven pigs; Thirteen pigs". In that way it was impossible to count them. Moreover, they could not be killed, for if they were shot at they would disappear. Once upon a time Medhbh of Cruachu and Ailill went to count them, in Magh Mucraimhe. The were counted by them then. Medhbh was in her chariot; one of the pigs leaped over the chariot. "That pig is one too many, Medhbh" s aid everyone. "Not this one" said Medhbh, seizing the pig's leg, so that its hide split on its forehead and it left the hide in her hand with the leg; and it is not known where they went after that. Hence it is called Magh Mucraimhe...(Plain of Pig-counting) - Irish 9th 10th century J 78. The Hour of Death The old people used to say that in the olden times everybody knew the exact time when he would die. There was a man who knew that he would die in autumn. He planted his crops the previous spring, but instead of building a fine firm fence around them, all he did was to plant a make shift hedge of a few rushes and ferns to guard the crops. It so happened that God (praise and glory to Him!) sent an angel down on earth to find out how the people were getting on. The angel came to this man and asked him what he was doing. The man told him. " And why haven't you a better fence than that makeshift to protect your crops?" asked the angel. "It will do me," said the man, "until I have the crop stored. Let those who succeed me look after their own fences. I'll die this autumn." The angel returned and told the Almighty what had happened. And from that day on, people lost foreknowledge of the hour of death--OS25 79. The Monk's Mistress The sweet little bell that is rung on a windy night, I would rather go to meet it than to meet a wanton woman. -Irish 9th Century J 80. Imperial Caesar Dead and Turned to Clay The world has laid low, and the wind blows away like ashes Alexander, Caesar, and all who were in their trust; grass-grown is Tara, and see Troy now how it is--and the English themselves, perhaps they too will pass! -Irish 17th-18th century J 81. The Sailor and the Rat Long ago there were people who were able to banish rats, if they were doing damage. The used to have a charm for it, called the charm of the rats. There was once a sailor on a ship, and he had a very fine, costly suit of clothes in a trunk. One day when he opened the trunk to put on the suit, or to air it, what did he find but that it was torn and eaten to rags by a rat. He made no delay but took out his razor and laid it edge upward on the deck. The razor was not long on the deck when out came a rat, rubbed its mouth along the edge of the razor and kissed it. Then it ran back to where it had come from. Other rata followed, one by one; each of them rubbed its mouth along the edge of the razor, kissing it, and then ran away again. After a few score of them had done that, there finally came out a rat, screaming loudly. She went up to the razor and rubbed her neck along its edge, until she fell dead beside it. The captain of the ship had been watching what was going on from the first rat to the last, which had cut its throat on the razor. He went straight to his cabin ,took out his book, and called the sailor to him. He paid him whatever wages were due to him and ordered him to leave the ship. "You could have done that trick to any man on board," said he. "As easily as you did it to the rat".--OS39 82. The Air Ship One day the monks of Clonmacnoise were holding a meeting on the floor of the church, and as they were at their deliberations there they saw a ship sailing over them in the air, going as if it were on the sea. When the crew of the ship saw the meeting and the inhabited place below them, they dropped anchor, and the anchor came right down on to the floor of the church, and the priests seized it. A man came down out of the ship after the anchor, and he was swimming as if he were in the water, till he reached the anchor; and they were dragging him down then. "For God's sake let me go! Said he, "for you are drowning me." Then he left them, swimming in the air as before, taking his anchor with him. -Irish 14th - 15th century J 83. The Girl and The Sailor Long ago a lot of women and girls used to go to Catherciveen to sell buttermilk. There would often be ten or twelve churns of the milk at the Cross and great demand for it. I heard that on one day the women and girls were at the cross as usual selling the milk. Among them was a girl from Rinnard, who had a churn in a donkey cart. She was standing in the cart with a measure in her hand to sell to anybody who came to her. Below at the pier, a ship was tied up while her cargo was being unloaded. Two of the crew walked up toward the Cross where the women were, and one of them turned to the girl from Rinnard and asked here what price the buttermilk was. "A penny a quart," said she." All right," said the sailor. "Give me a quart of it. I'm thirsty." She handed him the quart of milk, and he gave her a penny. He put the saucepan to his mouth and drank the m ilk while the other sailor looked on. When he had finished, he handed the saucepan back to her. He was standing near the cart in which she was, and he wiped his mouth with a corner of her apron. The two sailors then went off down the street. What did the girl do but jump off the cart and away with her down the street after the man who had wiped his mouth with her apron. She left the ass and the cart and the churn behind her. Some relatives of hers who were on the street tried to stop her and get her to return to the cart, but if they did, she paid no heed to them. Whenever the sailors went into a public house, she followed them and stood near the sailor who had touched her apron. It was idle for her relatives to try to separate them. Later on in the day, a relative of hers heard what had happened. He went along the street and into a public house where the three of them were standing at the counter. The girl had her back to him when he entered. He went up behind her, took out his knife, and cut the string of her apron. It fell on the floor. No sooner did it fall than the girl went off out the door of her own accord and went back to her cart and churn. The man who had cut the strings picked up the apron, took it into the kitchen, and shoved it into the center of the fire. He stood there until it was burned. All that were at the fair couldn't separate her from the sailor until the apron was taken off her. May God guard us all.!--OS40 84. The Burial of the Priest's Concubine This is a tale about a priest's concubine when she died, Many people came to her to carry her away to bury her, and they could not lift her because she was heavy. And they all wondered greatly at this, and everyone said, "O One God Almighty Father, how shall she be taken to be buried?" And they consulted a cunning professor and the Professor said to them as follows: "Bring two priest's concubines to us to carry her away to the church." And they were brought, and they carried her away very lightly to the church; and the people wondered greatly at this, and the professor said to them, " There is no cause for you to wonder at their actions, O people; that is, that two devils should carry off one devil with them" Finit. -Irish 14th-15th Century J 85. Drowned Giantess A woman, whose breasts had not grown, was cast up on a sea shore in Europe. She was fifty feet tall, that is from her shoulders to her feet, and her chest was seven feet across. There was a purple cloak on her. Her hands were tied behind her back and her head had been cut off; and it was in this way that the wave cast her up on land. Finit. Another woman was cast up from the sea in Scotland and she was a hundred and ninety-tow feet long; there were seventeen feet between her breasts, an sixteen was the length of her hair and seven the length of the finger of her hand. Her nose was seven feet long, and there were two feet between her eyebrows. Every limb of her was as white as the swan of the foam of the wave. -Irish 14-15th century/ second paragraph 9th century J 86. Froech in the Dark Pool ...He went to come out of theater then. "Do not come out, said Ailill, "till you bring me a branch of that mountain-ash on the bank of the river. Beautiful I think its berries." He went away then and broke a spray from the tree, and carried it on his back through the water. And this was what Findabhair used to say afterwards of any beautiful thing which she saw, that she thought it more beautiful to see Froech across the dark pool; the body so white and the hair so lovely, the face so shapely , the eye so blue, and he a tender youth without fault or blemish, with face narrow below and broad above, and he straight and spotless, and the branch with the red berries between the throat and the white face... -Irish 8th century J 87. Columcille's Coffin After Colm was sentenced to exile, he sailed away from Derry for Scotland. He wasn't even allowed to look back as he went. He came to Iona and spent his life converting pagans over there . Colm had a lovely big white horse of which he was very fond and when Colm grew old and lay on his deathbed, the horse came into the house and over to the bed where he lay. It sniffed and nosed all around him and then went out again. Colm died that night. But before he died, he asked that his name be put on his coffin and that the coffin should be cast out into the sea. And so it was done. Down at the lower end of Inishowen, there was a man who had a lot of cattle and he had a boy hired to heard them. The boy used to take them down to the shore every day to graze. But there was one cow which never ate any grass and was forever down on the sands licking at something or other. The boy never paid much attention to her, but the farmer noticed that this particular cow was beginning to give more and more milk, far more than the rest of them, so much so, in fact, that there weren't enough vessels about the place to hold it all. "What's that cow eating more than any of the rest of them?" asked the farmer. "She's not eating anything at all," said the boy. "But she's always d own on the sands licking at something or other." Down they went to see w hat the cow was licking and, sure enough, there was Columcille's coffin sticking up out of the sand on the shore with his name on the lid and orders for him to be buried in Downpatrick. And so it was done----Gp.63 88. Froech and the Fairy Women ...They heard a sound of wailing throughout Cruachu; and three times fifty women were seen with purple tunics and green hoods, and silver bracelets round their arms. People went to meet them to find out why they were lamenting "For Froech son of Idhath" said one of the women, "the darling boy of the king of the fairy hills of Ireland". Then Froech heard their wail. "Take me out," said he to his followers, "that is the wail of my mother and of the womenfolk of Boann." He was taken out thereupon and brought to them. The women came round him, and took him away to the fairy hill of Cruachu. The next evening they saw him come back, with fifty women around him, whole and hale without blemish or wound. All the women were of like age and shape and like loveliness and like beauty and like straightness and like figure, in the dress of the fairy women, so that there was no telling one from the other. The people were almost smothered in crowding round them. They departed at the gateway of the courtyard. As they went away, they gave forth their cry, so that the people who were in the court were thrown prostrate. Hence it is that the musicians of Ireland have got the tune "the Wail of the Fairy Women.... -Irish 8th century 89. Sunshine through the Window Pleasant to me is the glittering of the sun today upon these margins because it flickers so -Irish 9th century J 90. Midhir's Invitation to the Earthly Paradise "Fair woman, will you go with me to a wonderful land where music is ? The hair is like the primrose tip there, and the whole body is the colour of snow. There, there is neither "mine" nor "thine"; white are the teeth there, black the eyebrows; a delight to the eye is the full number of our hosts; every cheek there is the colour of the foxglove. The ridge of every moor is purple, a delight to the eye are the blackbird's eggs; thought the plain of Ireland is fair to see, it is like a desert once you know the Great Plain. Fine though you think the ale of Ireland, the ale of the Great Land is more heady ; a wonderful land is the land I tell of, the young do not die there before the old. Sweet mild streams flow through the land, choice mead and wine; matchless people without blemish, conception without sin, without guilt. We see everyone on all sides and no one sees us; it is the darkness of Adam's trespass that screens us from being counted. Woman, if you come to my mighty people a crown of gold shall be on your head; honey wine, ale, fresh milk, and beer you shall have there with me, fair woman." -Irish 9th Century J 91. Iubhdh/an's Fairy House I have a house in the land to the north, one half of it of red gold, the lower half of silver. Its porch is of white bronze and its threshold of copper, and of the wings of white-yellow birds is its thatch, I think. Its candlesticks are golden, with a candle of great purity, with a gem of precious stone in the very middle of the house. But for myself and the high-queen, none of us are sad; a household there without old age, with yellow curly-created hair. Every man is a chess-player, there are good companies there without exclusion; the house is not closed against man or woman going to it. -Irish 12th -13th century.J 92. At the Battle of Magh Mucraimhe ...Moreover, the air above them was black meanwhile with devils waiting for the wretched souls, to drag them to Hell. There were no angels there, except only two and they were above the head of Art wherever he went in the army because of the just character of that rightful prince. Then either of the two armies made for the other. Fierce was the onslaught they made on either side. Bitter sights were seen there-- the white fog of chalk and lime going up to the clouds from the shields and targets as they were struck with the edges of swords and the points of spears and arrows which were skillfully parried by the heroes; the bleating and shattering of the bosses, as they were belabored with swords and stones; the noise of the pelting weapons; the gushing and shedding of blood and gore from the limbs of the champions and the sides of the warriors... -Irish 9th 10th century J 93. Eating a Mouse Includes its Tail ..."That is true," said the king. "This is Lughaidh, and it is through fear of me that they do not name themselves"...."Well Now", said the king, "kill me a batch of mice". Then he put a mouse in the food served to each man, raw and bloody, with the hair on, and this was set before them; and they were told they would be killed unless they ate the mice. They grew very pale at that. Never had a more distressing vexation been put upon them. "How are they ?" said the king. "They are miserable, with their plates before them". ..."Tell them they shall be killed unless they eat." Bad luck to him who decreed it, " said Lughaidh, putting the mouse in his mouth, while the king watched him. At that al the men put them in. There was one poor wretch of them who gagged as he put the tail of the mouse to his mouth. "A sword across your throat" , said Lughaidh, "eating a mouse includes its tail." Then he swallowed the mouse's tail. "They do as you tell them," said the king from the door. "I do as they tell me, too," said Lughaidh. "Are you Lughaidh?" said the king. "That is my name" said Lughaidh... -Irish 9th-10th century.J 94. The Guest House at the Monastery of Cork ...The guest house was open when he arrived. That day was a day of three things- wind and snow, and rain in its doorway; so that the wind left not a straw from the thatch nor a speck of ash that it did not sweep through the opposite door, under the beds and couches and partitions of the royal house. The blanket of the guest house was rolled up in a bundle on its bed, and was full of lice and fleas. That was natural because it was never aired by day nor turned by night, since it was rarely unoccupied when it might be turned. The guest house bath had last night's water in it, and with its heating-stones was beside the doorpost. The scholar found no one to wash his feet, so he himself took off his shoes and washed his hands and feet in that dirty washing-water, and soaked his shoes in it afterwards. He hung his book-satchel on the peg in the wall, put up his shoes and tucked his arms together into the blanket and wrapped it round his legs. But as multitudinous as the sands of the sea or sparks of fire or as dew drops on a May-day morning or as the stars of heaven were the lice and the fleas biting his feet, so that he grew sick at them. And no one came to visit him nor to wait on him.. -Irish 12th century. ... 95. Civil Irish and Wild Irish You who follow English ways, who cut short your curling hair, O slender hand of my choice, you are unlike the good son of Donnchadh! If you were he, you would not give up your long hair (the best adornment in all the land of Ireland) for an affected English fashion, and your head would not be tonsured. You think a shock of yellow hair unfashionable; he hates both the wearing of love-locks and being shaven-headed in the English manner-how unlike are your ways. E/oghan B/an the darling of noble women, is a man who never loved English customs; he has not set his heart on English ways, he has chosen the wild life rather. Your ideas are nothing to E'oghan B'an; he would give breeches away for a trifle, a man who asked no cloak but a rag, who had no desire for doublet and hose. He would hate to have at his ankle a jeweled spur on a boot, or stockings in the English manner; he will allow no love-locks on him. A blunt rapier which could not kill a fly, the son of Donchadh does not think it handsome; nor the weight of an awl sticking out behind his rear as he goes to the hill of the assembly. Little he cares for gold-embroidered cloaks, or for a high well-furnished ruff, or for a gold ring which would only be vexatious, or for a satin scarf down to his heels. He does not set his heart on a feather bed, he would prefer to lie upon rushes; to the good son of Donnchadh a house of rough wattles is more comfortable than the battlements of a castle. A troop of horse at the mouth of a pass, a wild fight, a ding -dong fray of foot soldiers, these are some of the delights of Donnchadh's son- and seeking contest with the foreigners. You are unlike E/oghan B/an ; men laugh at you as you put your foot on the mounting- block; it is a pity that you yourself don't see your errors, O you who follow English ways. -Irish Laoiseach Mac an Bhaird 16th century. 96. Lanty's New House Lanty M'Cluskey had married a wife, and, of course, it was necessary to have a house in which to keep her. Now, Lanty had taken a bit of a farm, about six acres; but as there was no house on it, he resolved to build one; and that it might be as comfortable as possible, he selected for the site of it one of those beautiful green circles that are supposed to be the playground of the fairies. Lanty was warned against this. But as he was a headstrong man, and not much given to fear, he said he would not change such a pleasant situation for his house, to oblige all the fairies in Europe. He accordingly proceeded with the building, which he finished off very neatly. And, as it is usual on these occasions to give one's neighbors and friends a housewarming, so, in compliance with this good and pleasant old custom, Lanty, having brought home the wife in the course of the day, got a fiddler, and a lot of whiskey, and gave those who had come to see him a dance in the evening. This was all very well, and the fun and hilarity were proceeding briskly, when a noise was heard after night had set in, like a crushing and straining of ribs and rafters on the top of the house. The folks assembled all listened, and without doubt there was nothing heard but crushing, and heaving, and pushing, and groaning, and panting, as if a thousand little men were engaged in pulling down the roof. "Come" said a voice, which spoke in a tone of command, "work hard: you know we must have Lanty's house down before midnight." This w as an unwelcome piece of intelligence to Lanty, who finding that his enemies were such as he could not cope with, walked out, and addressed them as follows: "Gentlemen I humbly ask your pardon for building on any place belonging to you, but if you'll have the civilitude to let me alone this night, I'll begin to pull down and remove the house tomorrow morning." This was followed by a noise like the slapping of a thousand tiny little hands, and a shout of "Bravo, Lanty! Build halfway between the two white thorns above the boreen." And after another hearty little shout of exultation, there was a brisk rushing noise, and they were heard of no more. The story, however, does not end here, for Lanty, when digging the foundation of his new house, found the full of a kam of gold so that in leaving to the fairies their playground, he became a richer man than ever he otherwise would have been, had he never come in contact with them at all. 97. The Student's Life The Student's life is pleasant, carrying on his studies; it is plain to you my friends, his is the most pleasant in Ireland. No king nor great prince nor landlord, however strong, coerces him; no taxes to the Chapter, no fines, no early-rising. Early-rising or sheep-herding he never undertakes them, nor yet does he pay heed to the watchmen in the night. He spends a while at backgammon, and at the tuneful harp, or again another while at wooing, and at courting a fair woman. He gets good profit from his plough-team when early spring comes round-the fame of his plough is a handful of pens! -Irish, 17th century 98. Egan O' Rahilly and the Minister There was a splendid green-boughed tree of great value growing for many years close by a church which the wicked Cromwell had plundered, above a spring overflowing with bright cold water, in a field of green turf which a thieving minister had extorted from an Irish gentleman; one who had been exiled across the wild seas thorough treachery, and not through the edge of the sword. This stinking l out of a dammed minister wanted to cut a long green bough of the tree to make household gear of it. None of the carpenters or workmen would touch the beautiful bough, for its shade was most lovely, sheltering them as they lamented brokenly and bitterly for the bright champions who were stretched beneath the sod. "I will cut it" said a bandy meagre-shanked gallows bird of a son of this portly minister, " and get me an axe at once." The dull-witted oaf went up into the tree like a scared cat fleeing a pack of hounds, until he came upon two branches growing one across the other. He tried to put them apart by the strength of his wrists, but they sprang from his hands in the twinkling of an eye across each other again, and gripped his gullet, hanging him high between air and Hell. It was then the accursed Sasenach was wriggling his legs in the hangman's dance, and he standing on nothing, and his black tongue out the length of a yard, mocking at his father. The minister screamed and bawled like a pig in a sack or a goose caught under a gate, and no wonder, while the workmen were getting a ladder to cut him down. Egan O' Rahilly from Sliabh Luchra of the Heroes was there, watching the gallows-bird of the noose, and he recited this verse:- "Good is your fruit tree; may the bounty of this your fruit be on every branch! Alas that the trees of Ireland are not covered by your fruit every day!" What is the poor wild Irish devil saying? " said the minister , " He is lamenting your darling son," said an idler who was beside him. "Here is two pence for you to buy tobacco with." Said the fat badger of a Minster. "Thankee, minister of the son of courses" (the Devil) said Egan; and he recited a verse:- "Hurro, minister who gave me your two pence for lamenting your child! May the fate of that child befall he rest of them down to the last of them" -Irish 18th century 99. Prosperity in the Time of Tadhg O' Conchobhair ....The nobleman for whom from wide-plained Codhal in the south the fruit and nuts of soft Munster have grown bright; owing to our chieftain every bright branched hazel has become red, and the fruits of the pleasant bending sloe bushes have grown jet black. In his time the cattle are like part of the Cattle-Tribute; Nuts are the hue of coppery gold for the descendant of gentle Mugh; the fruit-flowers in their fresh white tresses have sweetened the cool streams of the tree-blessed shore; green corn grows from the earth close up to the mighty woods, and the bright hazel branches are filled with sap. At evening, the flowers of the fair-plaited hazel have cooled the sunny earth, the home of stranger birds; drops of honey and of dew, like dark tears, will keep the fringe of the thin- grassed wood bent down; the saplings around the Boyle are bowed with nuts because the slow soft eye of the descendant of Bron looks down on them. Nuts dropping into the white-foamed murmuring Boyle will fall down beside the great trees with twisted boles; the flower of every tree of them like dark purple, is purple for the race of great Muircheertach. A shower of honey upon slim-formed saplings in the fresh bowed forks of the golden graceful wood- this is but another boon from his holding of the peace-and the slow cows with their full udders from the lands of the plain of great Tuam... -Irish Sea/an M/or O' Clumh/ain 14th century J 100. No man goes Beyond His Day A fisherman must follow the sea, and how can a man escape the day of his death? There is such and such a time marked out for a man on this earth, and , when his day is come, if he went into an ant's hole, death would find him there. We have only our time, and , young or old, a man must go when he is called. There was a boat going out to Inis Tuaisceart once to fish from the rocks, and when they were halfway out they found that they had left the mast behind them. So they went back for the mast. And there was a man on the slip who was the best man on the island at fishing from the rocks, for at every craft there is one man is better than all others, if it were only at driving nails with a hammer. They set out again, taking this man with them, and, when they came to Inis Tuaisceart, they went about the island putting one man out on a rock here and another there, till at last they were all in their places fishing. After they had been thus for a time, the day began to rise on them, and the boat went again to pick up the men. But when they came to the rock where they had put this man out, he was not to be found. A wave had come up out of the sea, they said, and taken him, for death wanted him and his day was come , and when the went back at the beginning of the day it was not for the mast they went, as they thought, but for the man. No man goes beyond his day. 101. A light tokens the Death of Mr. Corrigan Well, I was coming along the road convenient to Drumbargy Lane. And I seen this light. And it seemed for the start--I couldn't just say whether it started from Francy's or whether it come past it. But it was a little below Francy's when I seen it first. And it was a powerful light and what struck me was that: wasn't it a wonder that it wasn't blacked out, do you see, for the way it was at that time it was only the underpart of a bicycle light that you'd see; the upper part of the glass had to be either blacked or there had to be a black cloth over it. It was during the war, do you see. But this was a full light. And it came on very, very,very, very very, quick. And it was just coming forward to where the turn is on the road when it disappeared. So I was on this side of Drumbargy Lane at that time. And the thought that struck me was that they either got a burst or a puncture or something had happened to the bicycle. So I came on anyway, expecting for to come across some man in difficulty, or some person, man or woman. But there was nobody on the road. So I took from that, that it was some kind of token. John O'Prey was working here with Francy's father at the time. And he was coming home one night. And this light came along, as he thought, meeting him. But it went out before they met. And there was nobody on the road. I just don't know how long it was before I seen it that John O'Prey seen it. But Francy's father died about in a week or a fortnight, a short time after. 102. Who Will Buy a Poem I ask, who will buy a poem? Its meaning is the true learning of sages. Would anyone take, does anyone want, a noble poem which would make him immortal? Though tis is a poem of close-knit lore, I have walked all Munster with it, every market-place from cross to cross- and it has brought me no profit from last year to the present. Though a groat would be small payment, no man nor any woman offered it; not a man spoke of the reason, but neither Irish nor English heeded me. An art like this is no profit to me, though it is hard that it should die out ; it would be more dignified to go and make combs- why should anyone else take up poetry? Corc of Cashel lives no more, nor Cian, who did not hoard up cattle nor the price of them, men who were generous in rewarding-poets--alas, it is good-bye to the race of /Eibhear. The prize for generosity was never taken from them, until Cobhtach died, and T/al; I spare to mention the many kindreds for whom I might have continued to make poetry. I am like a trading ship that has lost its freight, after the FitzGeralds who deserved renown. I hear no offers--how that torments me! It is a vain quest about which I ask. -Irish Mahon O' Hefferman 17th century J 103. The Lawyer and the Devil There was this man in it one time and he had three sons and he wanted to make something of them but hadn't the money. So he sells himself to the Divil to rise money to school the three boys, and he did. He made one a priest, the other a doctor and the third one was a lawyer. The Divil gave him the money to pay for their education. But anyway, at the end of seven years the Divil showed up to claim the old man and his soul and take him and it down to Hell. He had his three sons there, or one at a time in with him. So when the Divil come the priest began to pray and beg and appeal for the sparings for his father, and in the heel of the hunt he got a few years more off the Divil for his father. When that was up and the Divil came again the doctor was there and he appealed for sparings for his father and got them. And when the Divil come a third time to claim the old fellow the lawyer was there. The lawyer says to the divil: "You've given sparings to my father twice already and I know you can't be expected to do it again. But," says he, " as a last request, will you give him sparings while that butt of a candle is there?" The candle was burning on the table. The divil said he would; it was only a butt of a candle and wouldn't be long in it. At that the lawyer picks up the butt of a candle and blows it out and puts it in his pocket. And that was that! The divil had to keep to his bargain and go without the old man, for the lawyer held on to the butt of a candle. Trust the lawyer to beat the Divil. 104.The Wild Man of the Woods Dismal is this life, to be without a soft bed; a cold frosty dwelling, harshness of snowy wind. Cold icy wind, faint shadow of a feeble sun, the shelter of a single tree on the top of the level moor. Enduring the shower, stepping along deer-paths, traversing greeswards on a morning of raw frost... -Irish 12th century J 105. The Blood of Adam There was a priest in this parish long ago, and the old people used to tell us a lot of stories about him. He was a fine singer, they said, and he could play the fiddle finely and he was very fond of music. He was a noted horseman, too, although it was a horse that killed him in the end--it was how he was out one night on a sick call, and it was late and very dark when he was coming home, and the horse stumbled and threw him, and they found him in the morning and his neck broken. It was behind on the Gort a ' Ghleanna road it happened, just at the bridge halfways down the hill. W ell, what I'm telling you happened a good while before that, on another night when he was out riding late, when he was back on the lower road, near the county bounds. It was a bright moonlight night and he was walking the horse along when he heard this sweet music coming from the bank of the river , and he stopped to listen to it. After a while he put the horse at the ditch of the road and cleared it into the field and down to the river. And there was this very big crowd of small people, men and women about as big as a twelve-years-old child, and they all gathered around listening to a lot of them that were playing every kind of musical instrument. And the priest was sitting on his horse, enjoying the music, when some of them saw him. "Tis a priest, " they said and the music stopped. And they all gathered around the horse. And one of them, the head m an of them, maybe, spoke up. "Such a question, Father, and will you answer it?" "I will, and welcome, if I have the answer," says the priest. "What we want to know is this, will we go to Heaven?" says the little man. "I do not know," says the priest, "but I can tell you this much: if you have any drop of Adam 's blood in your veins, you have as good a chance of Heaven as any man, but if you have not, then you have no right to Heaven.""Och/on /O!" says the little man. And they all went off along the riverbank, all crying and wailing so that it would break your heart to listen to them. return to the top 106. Thomas Moore and the Tramp Thomas Moore was lying looking, him and this other, his companion, looking at the Meeting of the Waters and bragging: it was such beautiful scenery, gorgeous, never saw anything like it. An this poor tramp came up, And badly dressed, in rags, and bad boots on him with his toes sticking out through his shoes. And he asked help of Thomas Moore. And Thomas didn't recognize him at all; he ignored him asking for help. And he stood for a few minutes and he started his wee poem as follows: " If Moore was a man without place of abode, Without clothes on his back, and him walking the road, Without bit in his belly or shoes on his feet, He wouldn't give a damn where the bright waters meet." This Moore told him, "Repeat that," he says "again." So the tramp repeated it again. And he put his hand in his pocket, and he gave him half a sovereign. He says , "That's as good as I ever heard," he says, "I couldn't do it better meself ." That was that. It was a great piece of composition. It was me father told me that one; it was him that I heard at it. Surely 107. Hare and Hound John McLoughlin that lived out the Point Road had this hound. There never was the beating of her. She pupped in a teapot. One time she was carrying the pups, and a hare rised up and she made after it and ripped the belly out of herself on this ditch, on wire or something;and the pups, the greyhound pups, spilled out of her. And one of them up like hell and after the hare and stuck till her till he caught and killed her, And when the greyhound died., John McLouchlin had her skinned and he put a back into a waistcoat with her skin. And one day he was out over the water hunting and this hare started up; and begod, he said, the back of the waistcoat on him barked! 108. The Banshee Cries for the O'Briens The Banshee always cries for the O'Briens. And Anthony O' Brien was a fine man when I married him, and handsome, and I could have had great marriages if I didn't choose him, and many wondered at me. And when he was took ill and in the bed, Johnny Rafferty came in one day, and says he, "Is Anthony living?" and I said he was. "For," says he, "as I was passing, I heard crying, crying from the hill where the forths are, and I thought it must be for Anthony, and that he was gone." And then Ellen, the little girl, came running in, and she says, "I heard the mournfullest crying that ever you heard just behind the house." And I said, "It must be the Banshee." And Anthony heard me say that where he was lying in the bed, and he called out. "If it's the Banshee it's for me, and I must die today or tomorrow." And in the middle of the next day, he died. 109. The Wild Man Comes to the Monastery .....There was a time when I thought sweeter than the quiet converse of monks, the cooing of the ringdove flitting about the pool. There was a time when I thought sweeter than the sound of a little bell beside me, the warbling of the blackbird from the gable and the belling of the stag in the storm. There was a time when I thought sweeter than the voice of a lovely woman beside me, to hear at maitns the cry of the heath-hen of the moor. There was a time when I thought sweeter the howling of wolves, than the voice of a priest indoors, baa-ing and bleating. Though you like your ale with ceremony in the drinking-halls. I like better to snatch a drink of water in my palm from a spring. Though you think sweet, yonder in your church, the gentle talk of your students, sweeter I think the splendid talking the wolves make in Glenn mBolC/ain. Though you like the fat and meat which are eaten in the drinking halls, I like better to eat a head of clean water-cress in a place without sorrow... -Irish 12th century J 110. Iniskeen's on Fire There was a woman and she had a wee baby boy in a cradle. Them days there was no such thing as a pram. So this boy come in, and the child was taken out of the cradle, and this funny boy got into it. The child was never seen, and the funny boy was in the cradle all he time. And a man come in , a neighbor man come in, and the boy in the cradle says, "Gimmie a Light for me Pipe".Gimmie a coal there outtta the fire." So the boyo got the coal and he smoked. And then there was another man going to a blacksmith. He was going to get a loy fixed. It wasn't a spade now; it was a loy. So the man was going away to get the loy fixed with the blacksmith. He looked into the cradle. And he knew it was no child. He knew it was no baby. And the boy in the cradle put up his head. "Would you give me a light for me pipe," he says. So the man that went in, he went out to the street, and he let a big curse out of him: "Inishkeen's on fire" "Iniskeen's on fire." The boyo got up and hopped out of the cradle and away and he never was seen after. He was frightened you see, when he heard about the fire in Iniskeen. That's where they lived, you see. I often heard me husband telling it. The man says, "Inishkeen's on fire." So he disappeared. I often heard him telling me that. 111. The Horse's Last Drunk Do you know that the jennet is the most willing animal in the world? Man alive a jennet never knows when he is done. Years ago, I saw a jennet drawing a load up Patrick's Hill in Cork, and that's like the side of a mountain. The load was too much for it and for all its trying the jennet could go no farther. But do you know what happened? With the height of willingness and the power of pulling, its eyes came out of its head before it, for they were the only part of it free and not tackled to the cart. That was willingness for you! The man who owned that jennet was carrying from Cork to Kenmare. It was in the days before there were any motorcars and before their like had been thought about at all. He was coming one day with the divil of a load of wheat, maybe it could be about a ton weight and he saw that his horse was failing. He wondered if he had overfed her or what could ail her. He wanted to get into the town of Macroom that night at least . Well, he had a bottle of poteen with him, and he put It back into the horse, and she was as lively as could be for another piece of the road. But just when he was to the east of Macroom, didn't the horse lie down on the road, under the load and the divil a stir from her. They thought that she was dead. There wasn't a move out of her, no matter what they did. One of the men with him said that they had as well make the best of it, and if they skinned her they would be able to sell the s kin in Macroom. So they set to, and they skinned her, and when they had that done she moved. She wasn't dead at all, but only dead drunk with the poteen she had taken, and the cold had put a stir into her when the skin was off. They were in the devil of a fix, for the skin was after stiffening. One hopped over the wall, and killed four of the sheep and skinned them, and they sewed the warm skins on to the horse, and she got up after the debauch, and pulled away as good as ever. Ever after that he used to shear her twice a year--and you should have seen the grand fleece she had on her. She lived for fourteen years after that with two shearings a year. 112. Terry the Grunter There was at one time, an old tramp called Tery the Grunter who used to wander round these parts often times. The lived principally on his wits and he composed satires about people who did not please him. He happened to be in Sligo when a certain solicitor died and he asked some of this'man's brother solicitors for help. They refused him. When the funeral was starting four solicitors carried the coffin part of the way to the cemetery. Terry the Grunter gave the following descriptions of the affair: There's a knave overhead and four underneath, The body is dead and the soul on a journey The Devil is at law and he wants an attorney. When the Protestant church at Riverstown was being built, the bishop of Elphin came to consecrate it. He met our hero who, as usual, was on the lookout for money. The bishop refused him and the tramp wrote the following: An English bishop came from Elphin, To consecrate the church at Cooper Hill; But if the Devil himself came up from Hell, He would do it fully as well! 113. Elegy on Druim nDen How bare is your stronghold, Druim nDen! Very bare is your rampart and your site. I see, of the flowers once lavish on you from now for ever you shall be bare. Lovely were your borders and your verge, sweet the call of cuckoos that dwelt around you; shining was your wall, spacious and splendid, and your fortress encircled with green-leaved oaks. You were a protection against need and sorrow, you were a fence and a forest clearing; it is my longing to set my back to your wall and my face towards your wide demesne. But I am in the west of Ireland and you in the east are all on fire; the grazing herd crops the meadow the meal is ground without the miller. Rarely comes any that would be better; every frame shall be brought low; you shall be a hall for tearful austere nuns, though now you are grass grown and bare. -Irish 11th century. 114. A clock Token One night the clock in my room struck six and it had not struck for years, and two nights after--on Christmas night--it struck six again, and afterwards I heard that my sister in America had died just at that hour. So now I have taken the weights off the clock, that I wouldn't hear it again. 115. John Brodison and the Policeman There was a famous character in our country. He lived at Bellanaleck, he was the name of John Brodson. He was a famous liar. Aye, he was a famous liar. I knew him. I was often talking to him. He was a kind of a smart old boy, you know: quick-witted. He was coming out of Enniskillen one night with the ass and cart. And the law was: ye had to have a light after a certain time on a cart, do you see, when it was dark. Ye had to have a light. So the policeman was standing at Bellanaleck Cross and Brodison knew that the police would be there at the time. So he got out of the cart. And he took the donkey out of the cart, and he tied it behind. And he got into the shafts, and he started to pull the cart, and the donkey walking behind him anyway. And when he came to the Cross, the policeman says, "Brodison," he says. "Ye have no light." "Where's your light, Brodison?" "Ask the driver," he says. Aye "ask the driver." Well that was the sort of a boy he was . Ah, he had great bids in him. 116. The Little Boys who Went to Heaven ....Don/an son of Liath, one of Sen/an's disciples, went to gather dulse on the shore, with two little boys who were studying along with him. The sea carried off his boat from him, so that he had no boat to fetch the boys, and there was no other boat on the island to rescue the boys. So the boys were drowned on a rock; but on the next day their bodies were carried so that they lay on the beach of the island. Their parents came then and stood on the beach, and asked that their sons should be given them alive. Sen/an said to Donn/an, "Tell the boys to arise and speak with me." Donn/an said to the boys, "You may arise to talk with your parents, for Sen/an tells you to do so." They arose at once at Sen/an's command, and said to their parents, " You have done wrong to us, bringing us away from the land to which we came". "How could you prefer," said their mother to them "to stay in that land rather than to come to us?" "Mother," they said, "though you should give us power over the whole world and all its enjoyment and delight, we should think it no different from being in prison, compared with being in the life and in the world to which we came. Do not delay us, for it is time for us to go back again to the land from which we have come; and God shall bring it their parents gave them their consent, and they went together with Sen/an to his oratory; and the sacrament was given them, and they went to Heaven, and their bodies were buried in front of the oratory where Sen/an lived. And these were the first dead who were buried in Scatterly Island... -Irish 10th century J 117. How St. Scoithin Got His Name Once upon a time he met Barra of Cork, he walking on the sea and Barra in a ship. "How is it that you are walking on the sea? Said Barra. "It is not the sea at all but a flowery blossomy field," said Scoithin and he took up in his hand a crimson flower and threw it from him to Barra in the ship. And Scoithin said "How is it that a ship is floating on the field?" At those words, Barra stretched his hand down into the sea and took a salmon out of it, and threw it to Scoithin. And it is from tat flower (scoth) that he is called Scoithin. -Irish 10th-11th century. J 118. The Farmer's Answers There was a poor man one time-Jack Murphy his name was; and rent day came, and he hadn't enough to pay his rent. And he went to the landlord, and asked would he give him time. And the landlord asked when would he pay him; and he said he didn't know that. And the landlord said:"Well, if you can answer three questions I'll put to you, I'll let you off the rent altogether. But if you don't answer them, you will have to pay it oat once, or to leave your farm. And the three questions are these: How much does the moon weigh? How many stars are there in the sky? What is it I am thinking?" And he said he would give him till the next day to think of the answers. And Jack was walking along, very downhearted; and he met with a friend of his, one Tim Daly; and he asked what was on him. And he told him how he must answer the landlord's three questions on tomorrow, or to lose his farm. "And I see no use in going to him tomorrow," says he, "for I'm sure I will not be able to answer his questions right." Let me go in your place," says Tim Daly, "for the landlord will not know one of us from the other, and I'm a good hand at answering questions, and I'' engage I'll get you through." So he agreed to that. And the next day Tim Daly went in to the landlord, and says he:" I'm come now to answer your three questions." Well, the first question the landlord put was: "What does the moon weigh?" And Tim Daly says: "It weighs four quarters." Then the landlord asked: "How many stars are in the sky?" "Nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine." Says Tim. "How do you know that?" says the landlord. "Well, " says Tim, "if you don't believe me, go out yourself tonight and count them." Then the landlord asked him the third question: "What am I thinking now?" "You are thinking it's to Jack Murphy you're talking, and it is not, but to Tim Daly." So the landlord gave in then. And Jack had the farm free from that out. 119. Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral Dean Swift was a great man; very sharp-tongued he was, and fond of women terribly. Himself and his man Jack went riding to some place and they went for shelter into a public-house. There was a fire on the hearth and there were two men sitting beside it and they made no offer to move aside where the Dean and Jack wore very simple clothes, knee breeches as the gentlemen used to do. So the Dean says to Jack, "Did you put up the horses?" "I did", says Jack. "What did you give them for a feed?" says the Dean. "I gave them a feed of oysters," says Jack. So when the two men heard that they went out for to look at the great wonder, the horses to be eating oysters. And when they came in, the Dean and Jack had their two places taken by the fire. The dean was eating his dinner one time and he gave Jack but the bone with very little left on it. " It is the sweetest bit that is next the bone." Says he. Well, a while after they were on the road, and he bade Jack to tie up his horse where he'd have a feed of grass. So Jack brought him to a big stone and tied his head to it. "Sure you told me yourself," says Jack, "the sweetest of the grass is next the stone!" Some eggs Jack brought him one time, in his hand, just as you might be bringing them to a man out on a bog. "Let you put a plate under everything you will bring from this out," says the Dean. So the next morning when Jack brought up his boots, he had put a plate under them. The Dean sent Jack for a woman one night, and it was a black woman Jack brought up to the hotel, and the Dean never saw her till morning, and when he did he thought it was the devil. He sacked Jack that time. "What were you sacked for?" says Jack's mother. "It is that he sent me for a pullet and I brought back a hen," says Jack "That's no great fault," says the mother and she went to the Dean and said he had a right to take Jack back again, and so he did. 120. A big Potato John Brodison tells this story that one season, some years ago, he had a field of potatoes convenient to the Sligo and Leitrim Railway Line. And it was a very steep hill that he had the potatoes planted in. And they had done remarkably well, and when it came to the time for to dig them, they turned out a powerful fine crop of potatoes. And he was digging, he tells us, one day, and he came to a spot on the ridge and he found out that there was a potato from one brow to the other. So, he got behind, as he thought, this potato for to roll it out. But he found out that it had grew across the furrow in through a ridge on both sides of the ridge that it was planted on. So he had to go to both these ridges and dig all the mold that was around the potato. So then when he had it properly uncovered, he found out that it was a very deep distance in the ground. And he had to start for to rise it with a spade out of the ground. And he was a very long time a-digging the mold from round it, for to get it, to get the spade in under it. But finally the mold all cleared and he started with the spade, rising it up, and rising it up, and rising it up, till finally he got it to the top of the round. And it joined to roll. So he was that much fatigued and tired after the job that he had it; he never bothered looking where it went to. And he started again, and he heard a cart coming along the road from the direction of Enniskillen. And the next thing he heard was a terrible bang. So he looked round, and he seen where this cart had tumbled. So he stuck the spade. He run down to it. He found that the pratie had rolled onto the road, and in trying to get by it, the man hadn't enough room between the pratie and the other hedge for to get by clear, and the wheel of the cart went up onto the potato, and it tumbled. So there it was; there was nothing only sacks of meal and sacks of flour lying here and in all directions. And the horse was lying on its side in the road. But then, in them days there was a lot of people traveling on horses' carts and donkey 's carts, and it wasn't very long till there came a go of men making for home. So, them all got down and they got the horse released from the cart. And they got the horse up on his feet again. So, they had to take and they had to move every sack that was lying along the hedge away from about the cart still they got the cart back on its wheels again and got it pulled alongside the potato. So then they had to help this man again put on his load again. So, it was getting very near night, and he tells us that he didn't like for to leave it on the road all night for fear of more capsizers or more accidents. So he went home. And he had a talk with the wife. So they came to the conclusion that they'd put the donkey in the cart, and that they'd start away with the crosscut, and that they'd cut it into shares and draw it to the house. So they started anyway, and at a very late hour they had it all cut at the house. So, that was a terrible hard night, he said, one of the hardest nights of his life between the way he had to labor for to get the potato up out of the earth and then the hardship that he had that night, him and the wife after. Oh, John used to tell that story. Oh, many a good story John told. 121. The Old Times in Ireland The first man ever lived in Ireland was Partholan, and he is buried and his greyhound along with him at some place in Kerry. The Nemidians came after that and stopped for a while and then they all died of some disease. And then the Firbolgs came, the best men that ever were in Ireland, and they had no law but love, and there was never such peace and plenty in Ireland. What religion had they? None at all. And there was a low sized race came that worked the land of Ireland a long time. They had their time like the others. Tommy Niland was sitting beside me one time the same as yourself, and the day warm as this day, and he said, "In the old times you could buy a cow for one and sixpence, and a horse for two shillings. A and if you had lived in those days, Padriac, you'd have your cow and your horse." For there was a man in those times bought a cow for one and sixpence, and when he was driving her home he sat down by the roadside crying, for fear he had given too little. And the man that sold him as he was going home he sat down by the roadside crying, for fear that he had taken too much. For the people were very innocent at that time and very kind. But Columcille laid it down in his prophecy that every generation would be getting smaller and more liary; and that was true enough. And in the old days if there was a pig killed, it would never be sent to the saltery but everyone that came would get a bit of it. But now, a pig to be killed, the door of the house would be closed, and no one to get a bit of it at all. In the old times the people had no envy, and they would be writing down the stories and the songs for one another. But they are too enormous now to do that. And as to the people in the towns, they don't care for such things now, they are too corrupted with drink. 122.Nera and the Dead Man "Ailill and Medb, King and Queen of Connacht, are in their palace at Ráth Cruchan. It is the eve of Samhain, the modern Hallow- e'en, and great was the darkness of that night and its horror. Ailill promises to reward anyone who will put a withe round the foot of either of two captives who had been hanged the day before. A number of men make the attempt, but return in terror with their errand unfulfilled. At length Nera sets off for the gallows. He put a withe round the foot of one of the two captives Thrice it sprang off again. Then the captive said to him unless he put an extra spike on it the spike of the wood itself would not close on it. Then Nera put an extra spike on it. The hanged man then asks Nera to take him on his back to the house which is nearest to us saying that he was thirsty when hanged and now wants a drink. When they arrive at the nearest house there is a lake of fire round it. There is no drink for us in that house says the captive. The fire is always raked there. Nera carries him to the second house but they cannot enter as a lake of water surrounds the house. There is never a washing nor a bathing tub nor a slop pail in it at night after sleeping. They go to the third house and here the dead man enters. There were tubs for washing and bathing in it and a drink in each of them. also a slop pail on the floor of the house. He (the hanged man) then drinks a draught from each of them (he tosses a handful of ashes at the barking dog and it falls down dead and before the people have a chance to wake) he and scatters the last sip from his lips at the faces of the people that were in the house so that they all died. Henceforth it is not good to have either a tub for washing or bathing or a fire without raking or a slop pail in a house after sleeping.." Nera at this point is really scared- so much so that he runs off into the night and still to this day that dead man is still occupying the small house in the hills of Ireland somewhere...... 123 From : Frank Martin and the Fairies William Carleton 123 About this time there was said to have occurred a very remarkable circumstance, which gave poor Frank a vast deal of importance among the neighbours. A man named Frank Thomas, the same in whose house Mickey M'Rorey held the first dance at which I ever saw him, as detailed in a former sketch; this man, I say, had a child sick, but of what complaint I cannot now remember, nor is it of any importance. One of the gables of Thomas's house was built against, or rather into, a Forth or Rath, called Towny, or properly Tonagh Forth. It was said to be haunted by the fairies, and what gave it a character peculiarly wild in my eyes was that there were on the southern side of it two or three little green mounds, which were said to be the graves of unchristened children, over which it was considered dangerous and unlucky to pass. At all events, the season was mid-summer, and one evening about dusk, during the illness of the child, the noise of a hand-saw was heard upon the Forth. This was considered rather strange, and after a little time, a few of those who were assembled at Frank Thomas's went to see who it could be that was sawing in such a place, or what they could be sawing at so late an hour for every one knew that nobody in the whole country about them would dare to cut down the few white- thorns that grew upon the Forth. On going to examine, however, judge of their surprise, when after surrounding and searching the whole, place, they could discover no trace of either saw or sawyer. In fact, with the exception of themselves there was no one, either natural or supernatural, visible. They then returned to the house, and had scarcely sat down, when it was heard again within ten yards of them. Another examination of the premises took place, but with equal success. Now, however, while standing on the Forth, they heard the sawing in a little hollow, about a hundred and fifty yards below them, which was completely exposed to their, but they could see nobody. A party of them immediately went down to ascertain, if possible, what this singular noise and invisible labour could mean; but on arriving at the spot, they heard the sawing, too which were now added hammering, and the driving of nails upon the Forth above whilst those who stood on the Forth continued to hear it in the hollow. On comparing notes, they resolved to send down to Billy Nelson's for Frank Martin, a distance of only about eighty or ninety yards. He was soon on the spot and without a moment's hesitation solved the enigma. Tis' the fairies, said he. I see them, and busy crathurs they are. But what are they sawing, Frank? They are makin' a child's coffin, he replied; they have the body already made an' they're now nailin' the lid together. That night the child died, and the story goes that on the second evening afterwards, the carpenter who was called upon to make the coffin brought a table out from Thomas's house to the Forth, as a temporary bench; and it is said that the sawing and hammering necessary for the completion of his task were precisely the same which had been heard the evening but one before- neither more nor less. I remember the death of the child myself, and the making of its coffin, but I think the story of the supernatural carpenter was not heard in the village for some months after its interment. Frank had every appearance of a hypochondriac about him. At the time I saw him, he might be about thirty-four years of age; but I do not think, from the debility of his frame and infirm health, that he has been alive for several years. He was an object of considerable interest and curiosity, and often have I been present when he was pointed out to strangers as the man that could see the good people. 124 Paddy Corcoran's Wife William Carleton Pady Corcoran's wife was for several years afflicted with a kind of complaint which nobody could properly understand. She was sick, and she was not sick; she was well, and she was not well; she was as ladies wish to be who love their lords, and she was not as such ladies wish to be. In fact nobody could tell what he matter with her was. She had a gnawing at the heart which came heavily upon her husband; for, with the help of God, a keener appetite than the same gnawing amounted to could not be met with of a summer's day. The poor woman was delicate beyond belief, and had no appetite at all, so she hadn't barring a little relish for a mutton-chop, or a staik, or a bit o' mait, anyway; for sure, God help her! She hadn't the list inclination for the dhry pratie, or the dhrop o' sour buttermilk along with it, especially as she was so poorly; and indeed, for a woman in her condition-for sick as she was, poor Paddy alwayss was made to believe her in that condition-but God's will be done! She didn't care. A pratie an' a grain o' salt was a welcome to her-glory be to his name!- as he best roast an' boiled that ever was dressed; and why not? There was one comfort: she wouldn't be long with him-long troublin'him; it matthered little what she got, but sure she knew herself that from the gnawin' at her heart, she could never do good without the little bit o' mait now and then' an' sure, if her own husband begridged it to her who else had she a better right to expect it from? Well, as we have said, she lay a bedridden invalid for long enough, trying doctors and quacks of all sorts, sexes, and size, and all without a farthing's benefit, until, at the long run, poor Paddy was nearly brought to the last pass in striving to keep her in the bit o' mait. The seventh year was now on the point of closing, when, one harvest day, as she lay bemoning her hae condition, on her bed beyond the kitchen fire, a little weeshy woman dressed in a neat read cloak, comes in, and sitting down by the hearth, says: Well, Kittty Corcoran, you've had a long lair of it there on the broad o' her back for seven years, an' you're jist as far from ein' cured as ever. Mavrone, ay said the other; in throth that's what I was this minnit thinkin' ov and a sorrowful thought it's to me. It's yer own fau't that ever you wor there at all. Arra, now how is that? Asked Kitty; sure I wouldn't be here if I could help it? Do you think it's a comfort or a pleasure to me to be sick and bedridden? No, said the other, I do not; but I'll tell you the truth: for the last seven years you have been annoying us. I am one o' the good people; an.' As I have a regared for you, I'm come to let you know the raison why you've been ill, if you'll take the thrubble to remember, your childre threwn out yer dirty wather afther dusk an' before sunrise, at the very time we're passin' yer door, which we pass twice a day. Now; if you avoid this, if you throw it out in a different place, an at a different time, the complaint you have will lave you; so will the gnawin' at the heart; an' you'll be as well as ever you wor. If you don't follow this advice, why, remain as you are an' all the art o' man can't cure you. She then bade her good-bye and disappeared. Kitty, who was glad to be cured on such easy terms, immediately complied with the injunction of the fairy; and the consequence was, that the next day she found herself in as good health as ever she enjoyed during her life. 125 The White Trout, A legend of Cong S. Lover There was wanst upon a time, long ago, a beautiful lady that lived in a castle upon the lake beyant, and they say she was promised to a king's son, and they wor to be married, when all of a sudden he was murthered, the crathur (Lord help us), and threwn into the lake above, and so, of course, he couldn't keep his promise to the fair lady-and more's the pity. Well, the story goes that she went out iv her mind, because av loosin' the king's son-for she was tendher- hearted, God help her, like the rest if us!-and pined away afer him , until at last, no one about seen her, good or bad; and the story wint that the fairies took her away. Well, sir, in coorse o' time, the White Throut, God bless it, was seen in the sthrame beyant, and sure the people didn't know what to think av the crathur, seein' as how a white throut was never heard av afore, nor since' and years upon years the throut was there, just where you seen it this blessed minit, longer nor I can tell--- aye throth, and beyant the memory o' th' ouldest in the village. At last the people began to think it must be a fairy; for what else could it be?-and no hurt nor harm was iver put an the white throut, until some wicked sinners of sojers kem to these parts, and laughed at all the people a', and gibed and jeered them for thinkin' o the likes; and one o' them in partic'lar (had luck to him; God forgi' me for saying it!) swore he'd catch the throut and ate it for his dinner-the blackguard! Well, what would yout hink o' the villainy of the sojer? Sure enough he cotch the throut, and away wid him home, and puts an the fryin'-pan, and into it he pitches the purty little thing. The throut squeeled all as one as a Christian crathur, and, my dear, you'd think the sojer id split his sides laughin'- for he was a harden'd villain; and when he thought one side was done, he turns it over to froy the other; and, what would you think, but the divil a taste of a burn was an it all at all; and sure the sojer thought it was a quare throut that coiuld not be briled. But, says he, I''l give it another turn by and by, little thinkin''what was in store for him, the haythen. Well,, when he throught that side was done he turns it again, and lo and behold you, divil a taste more done that side was nor the other. Bad luck to me, says the sojer, but that bates the world, says he; but I'll thry you again, by darlint, says he, as cunnin' as you think yourself; and so with that he turns it over, but not a sign of the fire was on the purty throut. Well, says the desperate villain-(for sure, sir, only he was a desperate villain entirely, he might know he was doin a wrong thing, seein' that all his endeavors was no good)-Well, says he, my jolly little throut, maybe yo're fired enough, though you don't seem over well dress'd; but you may be better than you look, like a singed cat, and a tit-bit afther all, says he; and with that he ups with his knife and fork to taste a piece o' the throut; but, my jew'l the minit he puts his knife into the fish, there was a murtherin' screech, that you'd think the life id have you if you hurd it, and away jumps the throut out av the fryin-pan into the middle o' the flure; and an the spot where it fell, up riz a lovely lady-the beautifullest crathur that eyes ever seen, dressed in white, and a band o' gold in her hair, and a sthrame o' blood runnin' down her arm. Look where you cut me, you villain, says she, and she held out her arm to him-and ,my dear, he thought the sight id lave his eyes. Couldn't you lave me cool and comfortable in the river where you snared me, and not disturb me in my duty/ says she. Well, he thrimbled like a dog in a wet sack, and at last he stammered out somethin', and begged for his life , and ax'd her ladyship's pardin, and said he didn't know she was on duty, or he was too good a sojer not to know betther nor to meddle wid her. I was on duty, then, says the lady; I was watchin' for my true love that is comin' by wather to me, says she, an' if he comes while I'm away, an' that I miss iv him, I'll turn you into a pinkeen, and I'll haunt you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or wather runs. Well the sojer thought the life id lave him, at the thoughts iv his bein' turned into a pinkeen, and begged for mercy; and with that says the lady-Renounce your evil coorses, says she, you villain, or you'll repint it too late; be a good man for the further, and go to your duty reg'lar, and now, says she, take me back and put me into the river again where you found me. Oh, my lady, says the sojer, how could I have the heart to drownd a beautiful lady like you? But before he could say another word, the lady was vanished, and there he saw the little throut an the ground. Well he put it in a clean plate, and away he runs for the bare life, for fear her lover would come while she was away; and he run, and he run, even till he came to the cave again, and threw the throut into the river. The minit he did, the wather was as red a blood for a little while, by rayson av the cut, I suppose, until the sthrame washed the stain away; and to this day there's a little red mark an the throut's side where it was acut. Well, sir, from that day out the sojer was an altered man, and reformed his ways, his duty reg'lar and fasted three times a -week-though it was never fish he tuk an fastin' days, for afther the fright he got, fish id never rest an his stomach-savin' your presence. But anyhow, he was an altered man as I said before, and in coorse o' time he left the army, and turned hermit at last; and they say he used to pray evermore for the soul of the White Throut. ("going to his duty"= atttendance at the confessional). 126 A Donegal Fairy Letitia Maclintock Ay, it's a bad thing to displeasure the gentry, sure enough-they can be unfriendly if they're angered an' they can be the very best o' gude neighbours if they're treated kindly. My mother's sister was her lone in the house one day, wi' a big pot o' water boiling on the fire and ane o' the wee folk fell down the chimney, and slipped wi his leg in the hot water. He let a terrible squeal out o' him an'in a minute the house was full o' wee crathurs pulling him out o' the pot an' carrying him across the floor. Did she scald you ? my aunt heard them saying to him. Na, na, it was mysel scalded my ainsel, quoth the wee fellow. A weel, a weel, says they. If it was your ainsel scalded yours' we'll say nothing, but if she had scalded you, we'd ha' made her pay. 127 The Brewery of Egg-shells T. Crofton Croker Mrs. Sullivan fancied that her youngest child had been exchanged by fairies theft, and certainly appearances warranted such a conclusion; for in one night her healthy, blue-eyed boy had become shrivelled up into almost nothing, and never ceased squalling and crying. This naturally made poor Mrs. Sullivan very unhappy; and all the neighbours, by way of comforting her, said that her own child was, beyond any kind of doubt, with the good people, and that one of themselves was put in his place. Mrs. Sullivan of course could not disbelieve what every one told her, but she did not wish to hurt the thing; for although its face was so withered , and its body wasted away to a mere skeleton, it had still a strong resemblance to her own boy. She, therefore, could not find it in her heart to roast it alive on the griddle, or to burn its nose off with the red-hot tongs, or to throw it out in the snow on the road-side, notwithstanding these, and several like proceedings, were strongly recommended to her for the recovery of her child. One day who should Mrs. Sullivan meet but a cunning woman well known about the country by the name of Ellen Leah (or Grey Ellen). She had the gift, however, she got it, of telling where the dead were, and what was good for the rest of their souls; and could charm away warts and woens, and do a great many wonderful things of the same nature. You''re in grief this morning, Mrs. Sullivan, were the first words of Ellen Leah to her. You many say that, Ellen, said Mrs. Sullivan, and good cause I have to be in Grief, for there was my own fine child whipped off from me out of his cradle, without as much as by your leave or ask your pardon, and an ugly dony bit of a shirvelled-up fairy put in his place; no wonder, then, that you see me in grief, Ellen. Small blame to you, Mrs. Sullivan, said Ellen Leah, but are you sure t'is a fairy? Sure! Echoed Mrs. Sullivan sure enough I am to my sorrow, and can I doubt my own two eyes? Every mother's soul must feel for me! Will you take an old woman's advice? Said Ellen Leah, fixing her wild and mysterious gaze upon the unhappy mother; and, after a pause, she added, but maybe you'll call it foolish? Can you get me back my child, my own child, Ellen? Said Mrs. Sullivan with great energy. If you do as I bid you, returned Ellen Leah, you'll know. Mrs. Sullivan was silent in expectation, and Elen continued. Put down the big pot full of water on the fire, and make it boil like mad; then get a dozen new-laid eggs, break them, and keep the shells, but throw away the rest; when that is done, put the shells in the pot of boiling water, and you will soon know whether it is your own boy or a fairy. If you find that it is a fairy in the cradle, take the red- hot poker and cram it down his ugly throat, and you will not have much truble with him after that. I promise you. Home went Mrs. Sullivan, and did as Ellen Leah desired. She put the pot on the fire, and plenty of turf under it, and set the water boiling at such a rate, that if ever water was red-hot, it surely was. The child was lying, for a wonder, quite easy and quiet in the cradle, every now and then cocking his eye, that would twinkle as keen as a star in a frosty night, over at the great fire, and the big pot upon it; and he looked on with great attention at Mrs. Sulivan breaking the eggs and putting down the egg- shells to boil. At last he asked, with the voice of a very old man. What are you doing mammy? Mrs. Sullivan's heart, as she said herself, was up in her mouth ready to choke her, at hearing the child speak. But she contrived to put the poker in the fire, and to answer, without making any wonder at the words, I'm brewing, a vick (my son). And what are you brewing, mammy/ said the little imp, whose supernatural gift of speech now proved beyond question that he was a fairy substitute. I wish the poker was red, thought Mrs. Sullivan; but it was a large one and took a long time heating; so she determined to keep him in talk until the poker was in a proper state to thrust down his throat, and therefore repeated the question. Is it what I'm brewing, a vick, said she, you want to know? Yes, mammy: What are you brewing returned the fairy Egg-shells, a vick, said Mrs. Sullivan. Oh! Shrieked the imp, staring up in the cradle, and clapping his hands together, I'm fifteen hundred years in the world and I never saw a brewery of egg-shells before! The poker was by this time quite red, and Mrs. Sullivan seizing it, ran furiously towards the cradle; but somehow or other her foot slipped and she fell flat on the floor, and the poker flew out of her hand to the other end of the house. However, she got up without much loss of time and went to the cradle, intending to pitch the wicked thing that was in it into the pot of boiling water, when there she saw her own child in a sweet sleep, one of his soft round arms rested upon the pillow-his features were as placid as if their repose had never been disturbed, save the rosy mouth, which moved with a gentle and regular breathing. 128 Far Darrig in Donegal Pat Driver, the tinker, was a man well-accustomed to a wandering life, and to strange shelters; he had shared the beggar's blanket in smoky cabins; he had crouched beside the still in many a nook and corner where poteen was made on the wild Innishowen mountains; he had even slept on the bare heather, or on the ditch, with no roof over him but the vault of heaven; yet were all his nights of adventure tame and commonplace when compared with the one especial night. During the day preceding that night, he had mended all the kettles and saucepans in Moville and Greencastle, and was on his way to Culdaff, when night overtook him on a lonely mountain road. He knocked at one door after another asking for a night's lodging, while he jingled the halfpence in his pocket, but was everywhere refused. Where was the boasted hospitality of Innishowen, which he had never before known to fail? It was of no use to be able to pay when the people seemed so churlish. Thus thinking he made his way towards a light a little farther on, and knocked at another cabin door. An old man and woman were seated one at each side of the fire. Will you be pleased to give me a night's lodging sir? Asked Pat respectfully. Can you tell a story? Returned the old man. No, then, sir I canna say I'm good at story-telling, replied the puzzled tinker. Then you maun just gang farther, for none but them that can tell a story will get in here. This reply was made in so decided a tone that Pat did not attempt to repeat his appeal, but turned away reluctantly to resume his weary journey. A story, indeed, muttered he. Auld wives fables to please the weans! As he took up his bundle of tinkering implements, he observed a man standing rather behind the dwelling- house, and, aided by the rising moon, he made his way towards it. It was a clean, roomy barn, with a piled-up heap of straw in one corner. Here was a shelter not to be despised; so Pat crept under the straw and was soon asleep. He could not have slept very long when he was awakened by the tramp of feet, and, peeping cautiously through a crevice in his straw covering, he saw four immensely tall men enter the barn, dragging a body which they threw roughly upon the floor. They next lighted a fire in the middle of the barn, and fastened the corpse by the feet with a great rope to a beam in the roof. One of them began to turn it slowly before the fire. Come on, said he, addressing a gigantic fellow, the tallest of the four-I'm tired; you be to tak' your turn. Faix an' troth, I'll no' turn him, replied the big man. There's Pat Diver in under the straw, why wouldn't he tak' his turn? With hideous clamour the four men called the wretched Pat, who seeing there was no escape, thought it was his wisest plan to come forth as he was bidden. Now, Pat, said they, You'll turn the corpse, but if you let him burn you'll be tied up there and roasted in his place. Pat's hair stood on end, and the cold perspiration poured from his forehead, but there was nothing for it but to perform his dreadful task. Seeing him fairly embarked in it, the tall men went away. Soon, however, the flames rose so high as to singe the rope, and the corpse fell with a great thud upon the fire, scattering the ashes and embers, and extracting a howl of anguish from the miserable cook, who rushed to the door, and ran for his life. He ran on until he was ready to drop with fatigue, when, seeing a drain overgrown with tall, rank grass, he thought he would creep in there and lie hidden till morning. But he was not many minutes in the drain before he heard the heavy tramping again, and the four men came up with their burthen, which they laid down on the edge of the drain. I'm tired, said one, to the giant; it's your turn to carry him apiece now. Faix and troth, I'll no' carry him, replied he, but there's Pat Diver in the drain why wouldn't he come out and tak' his turn? Come out, Pat, come out, roared all the men, and Pat, almost dead with fright, crept out. He staggered on under weight of the corpse until he reached Kiltown Abbey, a ruin festooned with ivy, where the brown owl hooted all night long, and the forgotten dead slept around the walls under dense, matted tangles of brambles and ben-weed. No one ever buried there now, but Pat's tall companions turned into the wild graveyard, and began digging a grave. Pat, seeing them thus engaged, thought he might once more try to escape, and climbed up into a hawthorn tree in the fence hoping to be hidden in the boughs. I'm tired, said the man who was digging the grave, here take the spade, addressing the big man. It's your turn. Faix an' troth, it's no' my turn, replied he, as before. There's Pat Diver in the tree, why wouldn't he come down and tak' his turn? Pat came down to take the spade, but just then the cocks in the little farmyards and cabins round the abbey began to crow, and the men looked at one another. We must go, said they, and well is it for you, Pat Diver, that the cocks crowed, for if they had not, you'd just ha' been bundled into that grave with the corpse. Two months passed, and Pat had wandered far and wide over the county Donegal, when he chanced to arrive at Raphoe during a fair. Among the crowd that filled the Diamond he came suddenly on the big man. How are you , Pat Diver? Said he, bending down to look into the tinker's face. You've the advantage of me, sir, for I havna' the pleasure of knowing you, faltered Pat. Do you not know me, Pat? Whisper-When you go back to Innishowen, you'll have a story to tell! 129 The Piper and the Puca Douglas Hyde In the old times, there was a half fool living in Dunmore, in the county Galway, and although he was excessively fond of music, he was unable to learn more than one tune, and that as the Black Rogue. He used to get a good deal of money from the gentlemen, for they used to get sport out of him. One night the piper was coming home from a house where there had been a dance, and he half drunk. When he came to a little bridge that was up by his mother's house, he squeezed the pipes on, and began playing the Black Rogue (an rogaire dubh). The Puca came behind him, and flung him up on his own back. There were long horns of the Puca, and the piper got a good grip of them, and then he said- Destruction on you, you nasty beast, let me home. I have a ten-penny piece in my pocket for my mother, and she wants snuff. Never mind your mother, said the Puca, but keep your hold. If you fail, you will break your neck and your pipes. Then the Puca said to him, Play up for me the Shan Van Vocht (an t-seann-bhean-bhocht). I don't know it, said the piper. Never mind whether you do or you don't, said the Puca. Play up, and I'll make you know. The piper put wind in his bag, and he played such music as made himself wonder. Upon my word, you're a fine music- master, says the piper then; but tell me where you're for bringing me. There's a great feat in the house of the Banshee, on the top of Croagh Patric tonight, says the Puca, and I'm for bringing you there to play music, and, take my word, you'll get the price of your trouble. By my word, you'll save me a journey, then, says the piper, for Father William put a journey to Croagh Patric on me, because I stole the white gander from him last Martinmas. The Puca rushed him across hills and bogs and rough places, till he brought him to the top of Croagh Patric. Then the Puca struck three blows with his foot, and a great door opened, and they passed in together, into a fine room. The piper saw a golden table in the middle of the room, and hundreds of old women (cailleacha) sitting round about it. The old woman rose up, and said, A hundred thousand welcomes to you, you Puca of November (na Samhna). Who is this you have brought with you? The best piper in Ireland, says the Puca. One of the old women struck a blow on the ground, and a door opened in the side of the wall, and what should the piper see coming out but the white gander which he had stolen from Father William. By my conscience, then, says the piper, myself and my mother ate every taste of that gander, only one wing, and I gave that to Moy-rua (Red Mary), and it's she told the priest I stole his gander. The gander cleaned the table and carried it away, and the Puca said, Play up music for these ladies. The piper played up, and the old women began dancing and they were dancing till they were tired. Then the Puca said to pay the piper, and every old woman drew out a gold piece, and gave it to him. By the tooth of Patric, said he, I'm as rich as the son of a lord. Come with me, says the Puca and I'll bring you home. They went out then, and just as he was going to ride on the Puca, the gander came up to him , and gave him a new set of pipes. The puca was not long until he brought him to Dunmore, and he threw the piper off at the little bridge, and then he told him to go home, and says to him. You have two things now that you never had before- you have sense and music (ciall agus ceol) The piper went home, and he knocked at his mother's door, saying, Let me in, I'm as rich as a lord, and I'm the best piper in Ireland. You're drunk, said the mother. No, indeed, says the piper, I haven't drunk a drop. The mother let him in, and he gave her the gold pieces, and, Wait now, says he, till you hear the music I'll play. He buckled on the pipes, but instead of music, there came a sound as if all the geese and ganders in Ireland were screeching together. He awakened the neighbours and they all were mocking him, until he put on the old pipes, and then he played melodious music for them; and after that he told them all he had gone through that night. The next morning, when his mother went to look at the gold pieces, there was nothing there but the leaves of a plant. The piper went to the priest, and told him his story, but the priest would not believe a word from him, until he put the pipes on him, and then the screeching of the ganders and geese began. Leave my sight, you thief, said the priest. But nothing would do the piper till he would put the old pipes on him to show the priest that his story was true. He buckled on the old pipes, and he played melodious music, and from that day till the day of his death, there was never a piper in the county Galway was as good as he was. 130 The Kildare Pooka Patrick Kennedy Mr. H-R--, when he was alive, used to live a good deal in Dublin, and he was once a great while out of the country on account of the ninety-eight business. But the servants kept on in the big house at Rath-all the same as if the family was at home. Well, they used to be frightened out of their lives after going to their beds with the banging of the kitchn-door, and the clattering of fire- irons, and the pots and plates and dishes. One evening they sat up ever so long, keeping one another in heart with telling stories about ghosts and fetches, and that when-what would you have it?-the little scullery boy that used to be sleeping over the horses, and could not get room at the fire, crept into the hot hearth, and when he got tired listening to the stories, sorra fear him, but he fell dead asleep. Well and good, after they were all gone and the kitchen fire raked up, he was woke with the noise of the kitchen door opening, and the trampling of an ass on the kitchen floor. He peeped out, and what should he see but a big ass, sure enough, sitting on his curabingo and yawning before the fire. After a little he looked about him, and began scratching his ears, as if he was quite tired, and says he, I may as well begin first as last. The poor boy's teeth began to chatter in his head, for says he, Now he's goin' to ate me; but the fellow with the long ears and tail on him had something else to do. He stirred the fire, and then he brought in a pail of water from the pup, and filled a big pot that he put on the fire before he went out. He then put in his hand-foot, I mean-into the hot hearth, and pulled out the little boy. He let a roar out of him with the fright, but the pooka only looked at him, and thrust out his lower lip to show how little he valued him, and then he pitched him into his pew again. Well, he then lay down before the fire till he heard the boil coming on the water, and maybe there wasn't a plate, or a dish, or a spoon on the dresser that he didn't fetch and put into the pot, and wash and dry the whole bilin' of 'em as well as e'er a kitchen-maid from that to Dublin town. He then put all of them upon their places on the shelves; and if he didn't give a good sweepin' to the kitchen, leave it till again. Then he comes and sits forment the boy, let down one of his ears, and cocked up the other, and gave a grin. The poor fellow strove to roar out, but not a dheeg 'ud came out of the throat. The last thing the pooka done was to rake up the fire, and walk out, giving such a slap o' the door, that the boy thought the house couldn't help tumbling down. Well, to be sure if there wasn't a hullabullo next morning when the poor fellow told his story! They could talk of nothing else the whole day. One said one thing, another said another, but a fat, lazy scullery girl said the wittiest thing of all. Musha! Says she, if the pooka does be cleaning up everything that way when we are asleep what should we be slaving ourselves for doing his work? Shu gu dheine, (yes indeed), says another;' them's the wisest words you ever said, Kauth; it's meeself won't contradict you. So said, so done. Not a bit of a plate or dish saw a drop of water that evening, and not a besom was laid on the floor, and every one went to bed soon after sundown. Next morning everything was as fine as fine in the kitchen, and the lord mayor might eat his dinner off the flags. It was great ease to the lazy servants, you may depend, and everything went on well till a foolhardy gag of a boy said he would stay up one night and have a chat with the pooka. He was a little daunted when the door was thrown open and the ass marched up to the fire. An' then, sir says he, at last, picking up courage, if it isn't taking a liberty, might I ax who you are , and why you are so kind as to do half of the day's work for the girls every night? No liberty at all, says the pooka, says he: I'll tell you, and welcome. I was a servant in the time of Squire R's father, and was the laziest rogue that ever was clothed and fed, and done nothing for it. When my time came for the other world, this is the punishment was laid on me- to come here and do all this labour every night, and then go out in the cold. It isn't so bad in the fine weather; but if you only knew what it is to stand with your head between your legs, facing the storm from midnight to sunrise, on a bleak winter night. And could we do anything for your comfort, my poor fellow? Says the boy. Musha, I don't know, says the pooka; but I think a good quilted frieze coat would help to keep the life in me them long nights. Why then, in troth, we'd be the ungratefullest of people if we didn't feel for you. To make a long story short, the next night but two the boy was there again; and if he didn't delight the poor pooka holding up a fine warm coat before him, it's no mather! Betune the pooka and the man, his legs was got into the four arms of it, and it was buttoned down the breast and the belly, and he was so pleased he walked up to the glass to see how he looked. Well, says he, it's a long lane that has no turning. I am much obliged to you and your fellow-servants. You have made me happy at last. Good-night to you. So he was walking out, but the other cried, Och! Sure youre going too soon. What about the washing and sweeping? Ah, you may tell the girls that they must now get their turn. My punishment was to last till I was thought worthy of a reward for the way I done my duty. You'll see me no more. And no more they did, and right sorry they were for having been in such a hurry to reward the ungrateful pooka. 131 How Thomas Connolly Met the Banshee J. Todhunter Aw, the banshee, sir? Well, sir, as I was striving to tell ye I was going home from work one day, from Mr. Cassidy's that I would tell ye of, in the dusk o' the evening. I had more not a mile-aye, it was nearer twoi mile-to thrack to, where I was lodgin' with a dacent widdy woman I knew, Biddy Maguire be name, so as to be near me work. It was the first week in November, an' a lonesome road I had to travel, an' dark enough, wid threes above it; an' about half-ways there was a bit of a brudge I had to cross, over one o' them little sthrames that runs into the Doddher. I walked on in the middle iv the road, for there was no toe- path at that time, Misther Harry, nor for many a long day afther that; but, as I wasa sayin'. I walked along till I come night upon thebrudge, where the road was a bit open, an' there, right enough, I seen the hog's back o' the ould-fashioned brudge that used to be there till it was pulled down, an' a white mist steamin' up out o' the wather all around it. Well, now, Misther Harry, often as I'd passed by the place before, that night it seemed sthrange to me, an''like a place ye might see in a dhrame; and as''I come up to it I began to feel a cowld wind blowin''through the hollow o' me heart. Musha Thomas, sez I to meself, is it yerself that's in it? Sez I; so I put a bould face on it ,an ' I made a sthruggle to set one leg afore the other, ontil I came to the rise o' the brudge. And there, God be good to us! In a cantle o' the wall I seen an ould woman, as I thought, sittin' on her hunkers, all crouched together, an' her head bowed down, seemin'ly in the greatest affliction. Well, sir, I pitied the ould craythur, an thought I wasn't worth a thraneen, for the mortial fright I was in, I up an' sez to her, That's a cowld lodgin' for ye, ma'am. Well, the sorra ha'porth she sez to that, nor tuk no more notice o' me than if I hadn't let a word out o' me, but kep' rockin' herself to an' fro, as if her heart was breakin'; so I sez to her again, Eh, ma'am, is there anythin' the matther wid ye? An' I made for to touch her on the showldher, on'ly somethin' stopt me, for as I looked closer at her I saw she was no more an ould woman nor she was an ould cat. The first thing I tuk notice to, Misther Harry, was her hair, that was sthreelin' down over her showldhers, an' a good yard on the ground on aich side of her. O, be the holy farmer, but that was the hair! The likes of it I never seen on mortial woman, young or ould, before nor sense. It grew as sthrong out of her as out of e'er a young slip of a girl ye could see; but the colour of it was a misthery to describe. The first squint I got of it I thought it was silbery grey, like an ould crone's but when I got up beside her I saw, be the glance o' the sky it was a soart iv an Iscariot colour, an' a shine out of it like floss silk. It ran over her showldhers and the two shapely arms she was lanin' her head on, for all the world like Mary Magdelen's in a picther; and then I persaved that the grey cloak and the green gownd undhernaith it was made of no earthly matarial I ever laid eyes on. Now, I needn't tell ye, sir, that I seen all this in the twinkle of a bed-post-long as I take to make the narration of it. So I made a step back from her, an' The Lord be betune us an harm! Sez I, out loud, an' wid that I blessed meself. Well, Misther Harry, the word wasn't out o' me mouth afore she turned her face on me. Aw, Misther Harry, but 'twas that was the awfullest apparation ever I seen, the face of her as she looked up at me! God forgive me for sayin' it, but 'twas more like the face of the Axy Homo beyand in Marlboro Sthreet Chapel nor like any face I could mintion-as pale as a corpse, an' a most o' freckles on it, like the freckles on a turkey's egg an' the two eyes sewn in wid thread, from the terrible power o' crying the' had to do; an' such a pair iv eyes as the' wor, Misther Harry, as blue as two forget-me nots, an' as cowld as the moon in a boghole of a frosty night, an' a dead-an'-live look in them that sent a cowld shiver through the marra o' me bones. Be the mortial! Ye could ha' rung a tay cupful o' cowld paspiration out o' the hair o' me head that minute, so ye could. Well, I thought the life 'ud lave me intirely when she riz up from her hunkers, till, bedad! She looked mostly as tall as Nelson's Pillar; an' wid the two eyes gazin' back at me, an' her two arms stretched out before her, an' a keine out of her that riz the hair o' me scalp till it was as stiff as the hog's bristles in a new hearth broom, away she glides-glides round the angle o' the brudge, an' down with her into the sthrame that ran undhernaith it. 'twas then I began to suspect what she was. Wisha, Thomas! Says I to meself, sez I; an' I make a great struggle to get me two legs into a throt, in spite o' the spavin o' fright the pair o' them wor in; an' how I brought meself home that same night the Lord in heaven only knows, for I never could tell; but I must ha' tumbled agin the door, and shot in head foremost into the middle o' the flure, whre I lay in a dead swoon for mostly an hour; and the first I knew was Mrs. Maguire stannin' over me with a jorum o' punch she was pourin' down me throath (throat), to bring back the life into me, an' me head in a pool of cowld wather she dashed over me in her first fright. Arrah, Misther Connolly, bhashee, what ails ye? Shashee, to put the scare on a lone woman like that? Shashee. Am I in this world or the next? Sez I. Musha! Where else would ye be on'y here in my kitchen? Shashee. O, glory be to God! Sez I, but I thought I was in Purgathory at the laste, not to mintion an uglier place, sez I, only it's too cowld I find meself, an' not too hot, sez I. Faix,an' maybe ye wor more nor half-ways there on'y for me, shashee; but what's come to you at all, at all? Is it your fetch ye seen, Mister Connolly? Aw, naboclish! (don't mind it) sez I. Never mind what I seen, sez I. So be degrees I began to come to a little; an' that's the way I met the banshee, Misther Harry! But how did you know it really was the banshee after all, Thomas? Begor, sir, I knew the apparition of her well enough; but 'twas confirmed by a sarcumstance that occurred the same time. There was a Misther O' Nales was come on a visit, ye must know, to a place in the neighbourhood-one o' the ould O'Nales iv the county Tyrone, a rale ould Irish family-an' the banshee was heard keening round the house that same night, be more than one that wa in it; an' sure enough, Misther Harry, he was found dead in his bed the next mornin'. So if it wasn't the banshee I seen that time, I'd like to know what else it could a' been. 132 Grace Connor Miss Letitia Mac Lintock Thady and Grace Connor lived on the borders of a large turf bog, in the parish of Clondevaddock, where they could hear the Atlantic surges thunder in upon the shore, and see the wild storms of winter sweep over the Muckish mountain, and his rugged neighbours. Even in summer the cabin by the bog was dull and dreary enough. Thady Connor worked in the fields, and Grace made a livelihood as a peddler, carrying a basket of remnants of cloth, calico, drugget, and frieze about the country. The people rarely visited any large town, and found it convenient to buy from Grace, who was welcomed in many a lonely house, where a table was hastily claared, and she might display her wares. Being considered a very honest woman, she was frequently entrusted with commissions to the shops in Letterkenny and Ramelton. As she set out twords home, her basket was generally laden with little gifts for her children. Grace, dear, would one of the kind housewifes say, here's a farrel (a cake with three pieces) of oaten cake, wi' a taste o' butter on it; tak'it wi' you for the weans; or,. Here's half-a-dozen of eggs; you' ve a big family to support. Small Connors of all ages crowded round the weary mother, to rifle her basket of these gifts. But her thrifty, hard life came suddenly to an end. She died after an illness of a few hours, and was waked and buried as handsomely as Thady could afford. Thady was in bed the night after the funeral, and the fire still burned brightly, when he saw his departed wife across the room and bend over the cradle. Terrified, he muttered rapid prayers covered his face with the blanket; and on looking up again the appearance was gone. Next night he lifted the infant out of the cradle, and laid it behind him in the bed, hoping thus to escape his ghostly visitor; but Grace was presently in the room , and stretching over him to wrap up her child. Shrinking and shuddering the poor man exclaimed, Grace, woman, what is it brings you back? What is it you want wi' me? I want naething fae you, Thaddy, but to put the wean back in her cradle, replied the spectre, in a tone of scorn. You're too feared for me, but my sister Rose willna be feared for me-tell her to meet me tomorrow evening, in the old wallsteads. Rose lived with her mother, about a mile off, but she obeyed her sister's summons without the least fear, and kept the strange tryste in due time. Rose, dear, she said, as she appeared before her sister in the old wallsteads, my mind's oneasy about them twa' red shawls that's in the basket. Matty Hunter and Jane Taggart paid me for them, an' I bought them wi' their money., Friday was eight days. Gie them the shawls the morrow. An' old Mosey M'Corkel gied me the price o' a wiley coat; it's in under the other things in the basket. An' now farewell; I can get to my rest. Grace, Grace, bide a wee minute, cried the faithful sister, as the dear voice grew fainter, and the dear face began to fade-Grace, darling! Thady? The children? One word mair! But neither cries nor tears could further detain the spirit hastening to its rest! 133 The Black Lamb Lady Wilde It is a custom amongst the people, when throwing away water at night, to cry out in a loud voice, take care of the water; or literally, from the Irish, Away with yourself from the water-for they say that the spirits of the dead last buried are then wandering about, and it would be dangerous if the water fell on them. One dark night a woman suddenly threw out a pail of boiling water without thinking of the warning words. Instantly a cry was heard, as of a person in pain, but no one was seen. However, the next night a black lamb entered the house, having the back all fresh scalded, and it lay down moaning by the hearth and died. Then they all knew that this was the spirit that had been scalded by the woman, and they carried the dead lamb out reverently, and buried it deep in the earth. Yet every night at the same hour it walked again into the house, and lay down, moaned, and died; and after this had happened many times, the priest was sent for, and finally, by the strength of his exorcism, the spirit of the dead was laid to rest; the black lamb appeared no more. Neither was the body of the dead lamb found in the grave when they searched for it, though it had been laid by their own hands deep in the earth, and covered with clay. 134 The Radiant Boy Mrs. Crow Captain Stewart, afterwards Lord Castlereagh, when he was a young man, happened to be quartered in Ireland. He was fond of sport, and one day the pursuit of game carried him so far that he lost his way. The weather, too, had become very rough, and in this strait he presented himself at the door of a gentleman's house, and sending in his card, requested shelter for the night. The hospitality of the Irish country gentry is proverbial; the master of the house received him warmly; and he feared he could not make him so comfortable as he could have wished, his house being full of visitors already, added to which some strangers, driven by the inclemency of the night, had sought shelter before him, but such accommodation as he could give he was heartily welcome to; whereupon he called his butler, and committing the guest to his good offices, told him he must put him up somewhere, and do the best he could for him. There was no lady, the gentleman being a widower. Captain Stewart found the house crammed ,and a very jolly party it was. His host invited him to stay, and promised him good shooting if he would prolong his visit a few days; and, in fine, he thought himself extremely fortunate to have fallen into such pleasant quarters. At length, after an agreeable evening, they all retired to bed, and the butler conducted him to a large room, almost divested of furniture, but with a blazing turf fire in the grate, and a shake-down on the floor, composed of cloaks and other heterogeneous materials. Nevertheless, to the tired limbs of Captain Stewart, who had had a hard day's shooting, it looked very inviting; but before he lay down, he thought it advisable to take off some of the fire, which was blazing up the chimney in what he thought an alarming manner. Having done this, he stretched himself on his couch and soon fell asleep. He believed he had slept about a couple of hours when he awoke suddenly, and was startled by such a vivid light in the room that he thought it on fire, but on turning to look at the grate he saw the fire was out, though it was from the chimney the light proceeded. He sat up in bed, trying to discover what it was when he perceived the form of a beautiful naked boy, surrounded by a dazzling radiance. The boy looked at him earnestly and then the vision faded, and all was dark. Captain Stewart, so far from supposing what he had seen to be of a spiritual nature, had no doubt that the host, or the visitors, had been trying to frighten him. Accordingly, he felt indignant at the liberty, and on the following morning, when he appeared at breakfast, he took care to evince his displeasure by the reserve of his demeanor, and by announcing his intention to depart immediately. The host expostulated, reminding him of his promise to stay and shoot. Captain Stewart coldly excused himself, and at length, the gentleman seeing something was wrong, took him aside, and pressed for an explanation; whereupon Captain Stewart, without entering into particulars, said he had been made the victim of a sort of practical joking that he thought quite unwarrantable with a stranger. The gentleman considered this not impossible amongst a parcel of thoughtless young men, and appealed to them to make an apology; but one and all, on honor, denied the impeachment. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike him; he clapt his hand to his forehead, uttered an exclamation, and ran the bell. Hamilton, said he to the butler; where did Captain Stewart sleep last night? Well, sir, replied the man; you know every place was full-the gentlemen were lying on the floor three or four in a room-so I gave him the Boy's Room; ; but I lit a blazing fire to keep him from coming out. You were very wrong, said the host; you know I have positively forbidden you to put anyone there, and have taken the furniture out of the room to ensure its not being occupied. Then retiring with Captain Stewart, he informed him, very gravely of the nature of the phenomena he had seen; and at length being pressed for further information, he confessed that there existed a tradition in the family, that whoever the Radiant boy appeared to will rise to the summit of power; and when he has reached the climax, will die a violent death, and I must say, he added, that the records that have been kept of his appearance go to confirm this persuasion. 135 Bewitched Butter (Donegal) Miss. Letitia Maclintock Not far from Rathmullen lived, last spring a family called Hanlon; and in a farm-house, some fields distant, people named Dogherty. Both families had good cows, but the Hanlons were fortunate in possessing a Kerry cow that gave more milk and yellower butter than the others. Grace Dogherty, a young girl, who was more admired than loved in the neighbourhood, took much interest in the Kerry cow, and appeared on night at Mrs. Hanlon's door with the modest request- Will you let me milk your Moily (cow without horns)? An' why was you wish to milk wee Moiley, Grace, dear, inquired Mrs. Hanlon. Oh, just because you're sae throng at the present time. Thank you kindly, Grace, but I'm no too throng to do my ain work. I'll no trouble you to milk. The girl turned away with a discontented air; but the next evening, and the next, found her at the cow-house door with the same request. At length Mrs. Hanlon, not knowing well how to persist in her refusal, yielded, and permitted Grace to milk the Kerry cow. She soon had reason to regret her want of firmness. Moiley gave no milk to her owner. When this melancholy state of things lasted for three days the Hanlons applied to a certain Mark McCarrion, who lived near Binton. That cow has been milked by someone with an evil eye, said he. Will she give you a wee drop, do you think? The full of a pint measure wad do. Oh, ay, Mark dear; I'll get that much milk frae her, any way. Weel, Mrs. Hanlon, lock the door, an' get nine new pins that was never used in clothes an' put them into a saucepan wi' the pint o' milk. Set them on the fire, an' let them come to the boil. The nine pins soon began to simmer in Moiley's milk. Rapid steps were heard approaching the door, agitated knocks followed, and Grace Dogherty's high-toned voice was raised in eager entreaty. Let me in, Mrs. Hanlon! She cried. Take off that cruel pot! Take out them pins, for they're pricking holes in my heart, an' I'll never offer to touch milk of yours again. 136 The Witch Hare Mr. And Mrs. S. C. Hall I was out thraacking hares meeself, and I seen a fine puss of a thing hopping, hopping, in the moonlight, and whacking her ears about, now up, now down, and winking her great eyes, and---Here goes, says I, and the thing was so close to me that she turned round and looked at me , and then bounced back, as well as to say, do your worst! So I had the least grain in life of blessed powder left, and I put it in the gun- and bang at her! My jewel the scritch she gave would frighten a regiment, and a mist, like, came betwixt me and her, and I seen her no more, but when the mist wint off I saw blood on the spot where she had been , and I followed its track, and at last it led me-whist, whisper-right up to Katey MacShane's door; and when I was at the thrashold, I opened the door, and there she was herself, sittin' quite content in the shape of a woman, and the black cat that was sittin' by here rose up its back and spit at me; but I went on never heedin', and asked the ould---how she was and what ailed her. Nothing. Sis she. What's that on the floor sis I. Oh, she says, I was cuttin' a billet of wood, she says, wid the reaping hook, she says, an' I've wounded mesel in the leg, she says, and that's drops of my precious blood, she says. 137 The Horned Women Lady Wilde A rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, while all the family and servants were asleep. Suddenly a knock was given at the door, and a voice called-Open! Open! Who is there? Said the woman of the house. I am the Witch of the one Horn, was answered. The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbours had called and required assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered having in her hand a pair of wool carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if growing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and began to card the wool with violent haste. Suddenly she paused, and said aloud: Where are the women? They delay too long. Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, Open! Open! ?The mistress felt herself constrained to rise and open to the call, and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wheel. Give me place, she said, I am the Witch of the two horns, and she began to spin as quick as lightning. And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches entered, until at least twelve women sat round the fire-the first with one horn, the last with twelve horns. And they carded the thread, and turned their spinning wheels, and wound and wove. All singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speak to the mistress of the house. Strange to hear, and frightful to look upon, were these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and the mistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might call for help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her. Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said---Rise, woman, and make us a cake. The mistress searched for a vessel to bring water from the well that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but she could find none. And they said to her, Take a sieve and bring water in it. And she took the sieve and went to the well; but the water poured from it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the well and wept. Then a voice came by her and said, Take yellow clay and moss and bind them together, and plaster the sieve so that will hold. This she did, and the sieve held water for the cake, and the voice said again- Return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house, cry aloud three times and say. The mountain of the Fenian women and the sky over it is all on fire. And she did so. When the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry broke from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentation and shrieks, and fled away to Slievenamon, where was their chief abode. But the Spirit of the well bade the mistress of the house to enter and prepare her home against the enchantments of witches if they returned again. And first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in which she had washed her child''s feet (the feet-water) outside the door on the threshold, secondly, she took the cake which the witches had made in her absence of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the sleeping family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit in the mouth of each sleeper, and they were restored; and she took the cloth they had woven and placed it half in and half out of the chest with the padlock; and lastly, she secured the door with a great crossbeam fastened in the jambs, so that they could not enter, and having done these things she waited. Not long were the witches in coming back, and they raged and called for vengeance. Open, Open! They screamed., open feet-water! I cannot, said the feet-water, I am scattered on the ground, and my path is down to the Lough. Open, open, wood and trees and beam! They cried to the door. I cannot, said the door, for the beam is fixed in the jambs and I have now power to move. Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood! They cried again. I cannot, said the cake, for I am broken and bruised, and my blood is on the lips of the sleeping children. Then the witches rushed through the air with great cries and fled back to Slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the Spirit of the Well, who had wished their ruin; but the woman and the house were left in peace and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her flight was kept hung up by the mistress as a sign of the night's awful contest; and this mantle was in possession of the same family from generation to generation for five hundred years after. 138 The Witch's Excursion Patrick Kennedy Shemus Rua (Red James) awakened from his sleep on night by noises in his kitchen. Stealing to the door, he saw half-a-dozen old women sitting round the fire, jesting and laughing, his old housekeeper, Madge, quite frisky and gay, helping her sister crones to cheering glasses of punch. He began to admire the impudence and imprudence of Madge, displayed in the invitation and the riot, but recollected on the instant her officiousness in urging him to take a comfortable posset, which she had brought to his bedside just before he fell asleep. Had he drunk it, he would have been just now deaf to the witches' glee. He heard and saw them drink his health in such a mocking style as nearly to tempt him to charge them, besom in hand, but he restrained himself. The jug being emptied, one of them cried out, Is it time to be gone? And at the same moment, putting on a red cap, she added- By yarrow and rue, and my red cap too, Hie over to England. Making use of a twig which she held in her hand as a steed she gracefully soared up the chimney, and was rapidly followed by the rest. But when it came to the house-keeper, Shemus interposed. By your leave ma'am, said he, snatching twig and cap. Ah, you desateful ould crocodile! If I find you here on my return, there'll be wigs on the green- By yarrow and rue, And my red cap too, Hie over to England. The words were not out of his mouth when he was soaring above the ridgepole, and swiftly ploughing the air. He was careful to speak no word (being somewhat conversant with witch-lore), as the result would be a tumble, and the immediate return of the expedition. In a very short time they had crossed the Wicklow hills, the Irish Sea and the Welsh mountains, and were charging, at whirlwind speed, the hall door of a castle. Shemus, only for the company in which he found himself, would have cried out for pardon expecting to be mummy against the hard oak door in a moment; but all bewildered, he found himself passing through the keyhole, along a passage, down a flight of steps, and through a cellar-door key-hole before he could form any clear idea of his situation. Waking to the full consciousness of his position, he found himself sitting on a stallion, plenty of lights glimmering round, and he and his companions, with full tumblers of frothing wine in hand, hob-nobbing and drinking healths as jovially and recklessly as if the liquor was honestly come by, and they were sitting in Shemus's own kitchen. The red birredh (cap) has assimilated Shemus's nature for the time being to that of his unholy companions. The heady liquours soon got into their brains, and a period of unconsciousness succeeded the ecstasy, the head-ache, the turning round of the barrels, and the scattered sight of poor Shemus. He woke up under the impression of being roughly seized, and shaken, and dragged up stairs, and subjected to a disagreeable examination by the lord of the castle, in his state parlour. There was much derision among the whole company, gentle and simple, on hearing Shamus's explanation, and as the thing occurred in the dark ages, the unlucky Leinsterman was sentenced to be hung as soon as the gallows could be prepared for the occasion. The poor Hibernian was n the cart proceeding on his last journey, with a label on his back, and another on his breast, announcing him as the remorseless villain who for the last month had been draining the casks in my lord's vault every night. He was surprised to hear himself addressed by his name and in his native tongue, by an old woman in the crowd. Ach, Shemus, alanna! Is it going to die you are in a strange place without your cappen d'yarrag?( red cap) These words infused hope and courage into the poor victim's heart. He turned to the lord and humbly asked leave to die in his red cap, which he supposed had dropped from his head in the vault. A servant was sent for the head-piece, and Shemus felt lively hope warming his hear while placing it on his head. On the platform he was graciously allowed to address the spectators, which he proceeded to do in the usual formula composed for the benefit of flying stationers-Good people all, a warning take by me, but when he had finished the line, My Parents reared me tenderly, he unexpectedly added- By yarrow and rue, etc., and the disappointed spectators saw him shoot up obliquely through the air in the style of a sky-rocket that had missed its aim. It is said that the lord took the circumstance much to heart, and never afterwards hung a man for twenty-four hours after his offense. 139 The Legend of O'Donoghue T.Crofton Croker In an age so distant that the precise period is unknown, a chieftain named O'Donoghue ruled over the country which surrounds the romantic Loch Lean, now called the lake of Killarney. Wisdom, beneficence, and justice distinguished his reign , and the prosperity and happiness of his subjects were their natural results. He is said to have been as renowned for his warlike exploits as for his pacific virtues; and as a proof that his domestic administration was not the less rigorous because it was mild, a rocky island is pointed out to strangers, called O' Donoghue's Prison, in which this prince once confined his own son for some act of disorder and disobedience. His end-for it cannot correctly be called his death-was singular and mysterious. At one of those splendid feasts for which his court was celebrated, surrounded by the most distinguished of his subjects, he was engaged in a prophetic relation of the events which were to happen in ages yet to come. His auditors listened, now wrapt in wonder, now fired with indignation, burning with shame, or melted into sorrow, as he faithfully detailed the heroism, the injuries, the crimes, and the miseries of their descendants. In the midst of his predictions he rose slowly from his seat, advanced with a solemn, measured, and majestic tread into the shore of the lake, and walked forward composedly upon its unyielding surface. When he had nearly reached the center he paused for a moment, then, turning slowly round, looked toward his friends, and waving his arms to them with the cheerful air of one making a short farewell, disappeared from their view. The memory of the good O'Donoghue has been cherished by successive generations with affectionate reverence; and it is believed that at sunrise, on every May-day morning, the anniversary of his departure he revisits his ancient domains; a favored few only are in general permitted to see him , and this distinction is always an omen of good fortune to the beholders; when it is granted to many it is a sure token of an abundant harvest-a blessing, the want of which during this prince's reign was never felt by his people. Some years have elapsed since the last appearance of O'Donoghue. The April of that year had been remarkably wild and stormy; but on May-morning the fury of the elements had altogether subsided. The air was hushed and still; and the sky which was reflected in the serene lake, resembled a beautiful but deceitful countenance, whose smiles, after the most tempestuous emotions, tempt the stranger to believe that it belongs to a soul which no passion has ever ruffled. The first beams of the rising sun were just gilding the lofty summit of Glennaa, when the waters near the eastern shore of the lake became suddenly and violently agitated, though all the rest of its surface lay smooth and still as a tomb of polished marble, the next morning a foaming wave darted forward, and, like a proud high-crested war-horse, exulting in his strength, rushed across the lake toward Toomies mountain. Behind this wave appeared a stately warrior fully armed, mounted upon a milk-white steed; his snowy plume waved gracefully from a helmet of polished steel, and at his back fluttered a light blue scarf. The horse apparently exulting in his noble burden, sprung after the wave along the water, which bore him up like a firm earth, while showers of spray that glittered brightly in the morning sun were dashed up at every bound. The warrior was O'Donoghue; he was followed by numberless youths and maidens, who moved lightly and unconstrained over the watery plain, as the moonlight fairies glide through the fields of air; they were linked together by garlands of delicious spring flowers, and they timed their movements to strains of enchanting melody. When O''Donoghue had nearly reached the western side of the lake he suddenly turned his steed, and directed his course along the wood -fringed shore of Glenaa, preceded by the huge wave that curled and foamed up as high as the horse's neck, whose fiery nostrils snorted above it. The long train of attendants followed with playful deviations the track of their leader, and moved on with unabated fleetness to their celestial music, till gradually , as they entered the narrow strait between Glenaa and Dinis, they became involved in the mists which still partially floated over the lakes, and faded from the view of the wondering beholders: but the sound of their music still fell upon the ear, and echo, catching up the harmonious strains, fondly repeated and prolonged them in soft and softer tones, till the last faint repetition died away, and the hearers awoke as from a dream of bliss. 140 Rent-Day Oh, ullagone! Ullagone! This is a wide world, but what will we do in it, or where will we go? Muttered Bill Doody, as he sat on a rock by the lake of Killarney. What will we do? Tomorrow's rent-day, and Tim the Driver swears if we don't pay our rent, he'll cant every ha'perth we have; and then sure enough there's Judy and myself, and the poor grawls, (children) will be turned out to starve on the high-road, for the never a halfpenny of rent have I!-Oh hone, what ever I should live to see this day! Thus did Bill Doody bemoan his hard fate, pouring his sorrows to the reckless waves of the most beautiful of lakes, which seemed to mock his misery as they rejoiced beneath the cloudless sky of a May morning. That lake, glittering in sunshine, sprinkled with fairy isles of rock and verdure, and bounded by giant hills of ever-varying hues, might with its magic beauty, charm all sadness but despair;' for alas, How ill the scene that offers rest And heart that cannot rest agree! Yet Bill Doody was not so desolate as he supposed; there was one listening to him he little thought of, and help was at hand from a quarter he could not have expected. What's the matter with you, my poor man? Said a tall, portly-looking gentleman, at the same time stepping out of a furze-brake. Now Bill was seated on a rock that commanded the view of a large field. Nothing in the field could be concealed from him ,except this furze-break, which grew in a hollow near the margin of the lake. He was, therefore, not a little surprised at the gentleman's sudden appearance, and began to question whether the personage before him belonged to this world or not. He, however, soon mustered courage sufficient to tell him how his crops had failed, how some bad member had charmed away his butter, and how Tim the Driver threatened to turn him out of the farm if he didn't pay up every penny of the rent by twelve o'clock next day. A sad story, indeed, said the stranger; but surely, if you represented the case to your landlord's agent, he won't have the heart to turn you out. Heart, your honour; where would an agent get a heart! Exclaimed Bill. I see your honour does not know him; besides, he has an eye on the farm this long time for a fosterer of his own; so I expect no mercy at all, only to be turned out. Take this, my poor fellow, take this, said the stranger, pouring a purse full of gold into Bill's old hat, which in his grief he had flung on the ground. Pay the fellow your rent, but I'll take care it shall do him no good. I remember the time when things went otherwise in this country when I would have hung up such a fellow in the twinkling of an eye! These words were lost upon Bill, who was insensible to everything but the sight of the gold, and before he could unfix his gaze, and lift up his head to pour out his hundred thousand blessings, the stranger was gone. The bewildered peasant looked around in search of his benefactor, and at last he thought he saw him riding on a white horse a long way off on the lake. O'Donoghue, O'Donoghue! Shouted Bill; the good, the blessed O' Donoghue! And he ran capering like a madman to show Judy the gold, and to rejoice her heart with the prospect of wealth and happiness. The next day Bill proceeded to the agent's not sneakingly, with his hat in his hand, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his knees bending under him; but bold and upright, like a man conscious of his independence. Why don't you take off your hat, fellow? Don't you know you are speaking to a magistrate? Said the agent. I know I'm not speaking to the king, sir, said Bill; and I never takes off my hat but to them I can respect and love. The Eye that sees all knows I've no right either to respect or love an agent! You scoundrel! Retorted the man in office, biting his lips with rage at such an unusual and unexpected opposition. I'll teach you how to be insolent again; I have the power, remember. To the cost of the country, I know you have, said Bill who still remained with his head as firmly covered as if he was Lord Kingsdale himself. But come, said the magistrate; have you got the money for me? This is rent-day. If there's one penny of it wanting or the running gale that's due, prepare to turn out before night, for you shall not remain another hour in possession. There is your rent, said Bill, with an unmoved expression of tone and countenance; you'd better count it, and give me a receipt in full for the running gale and all. The agent gave a look of amazement at the gold; for it was gold-real guineas! And not bits of dirty ragged small notes that are not fit to light one's pipe with. However willing the agent may have been to ruin, as he thought, the unfortunate tenant, he took up the gold, and handed the receipt to Bill, who strutted off with it as proud as a cat of her whiskers. The agent going to his desk shortly after, was confounded at beholding a heap of gingerbread cakes instead of the money he had deposited there. He raved and swore, but all to no purpose; the gold had become gingerbread cakes, just marked like the guineas, with the king's head; and Bill had the receipt in his pocket; so he saw there was no use in saying anything about the affair, as he would only get laughed at for his pains. From that hour Bill Doody grew rich; all his undertakings prospered; and he often blesses the day that he met with O'Donoghue, the great prince that lives down under the lake of Killarney. 141 The Phantom Isle Giraldus Cambrensis Among the other islands is one newly formed, which they call the Phantom Isle, which had its origin in this manner. One calm day a large mass of earth rose to the surface of the sea, where no land had ever been seen before, to the great amazement of the islanders who observed it. Some of them said that it was a whale, or other immense sea-monster; others remarking that it continued motionless, said, No; it is land. In order, therefore, to reduce their doubts to certainty, some picked young men of the island determined to approach nearer the spot in a boat. When, however, they came so near to it that they thought they should go on shore, the island sank in the water and entirely vanished from sight. The next day it re-appeared, and again mocked the same youths with the like delusion. At length, on their rowing towards it on the third day, they followed the advice of an older man, and let fly an arrow, barbed with red-hot steel, against the island; and then landing, found it stationary and habitable. This adds one to the many proofs that fire is the greatest of enemies to every sort off phantom; in so much that those who have seen apparitions, fall into a swoon as soon as they are sensible of the brightness of fire. For fire, both from its position and nature, is the noblest of the elements, being a witness of the secrets of the heavens. The sky is firey; the planets are firey; the bush burnt with fire but was not consumed; the Holy Ghost sat upon the apostles in tongues of fire.- 12th century 142 The Story of the Little Bird T. Crofton Croker Many years ago there was a very religious and holy man, one of the monks of a convent, and he was one day kneeling at his prayers in the garden of his monastery, when he heard a little bird singing in one of the rose-trees of the garden, and there never was anything that he had heard in the world so sweet as the song of that little bird. And the holy man rose up from his knees where he was kneeling at his prayers to listen to its song; for he thought he never in all his life heard anything so heavenly. And the little bird, after singing for some time longer on the rose-tree, flew away to a grove at some distance from the monastery, and the holy man followed it to listen to its singing, for he felt as if he would never be tired of listening to the sweet song it was singing out of its throat. And the little bird after that went away to another distant tree, and sung there for a while, and then to another tree, and so on in the same manner, but ever farther and farther away from the monastery, and the holy man still following it farther, and farther, and farther still listening delighted to its enchanting song. But at last he was obliged to give up, as it was growing late in the day, and he returned to the convent; and as he approached it in the evening, the sun was setting in the west with all the most heavenly colours that were ever seen in the world, and when he came into the convent, it was nightfall. And he was quite surprised at everything he saw, for they were all strange faces about him in the monastery that he had never seen before, and the very place itself, and everything about it, seemed to be strangely altered; and, altogether, it seemed entirely different from what it was when he had left in the morning; and the garden was not like the garden where he had been kneeling at his devotion when he first heard the singing of the little bird. And while he was wondering at all he saw, one of the monks of the convent came up to him, and the holy man questioned him, Brother, what is the cause of all these strange changes that have taken place here since the morning? And the monk that he spoke to seemed to wonder greatly at his question, and asked him what he meant by the changes since morning? For, sure, there was no change; that all was just as before. And then he said, Brother, why do you ask these strange questions, and what is your name? For you wear the habit of our order, though we have never seen you before. So upon this the holy man told his name, and said that he had been at mass in the chapel in the morning before he had wandered away from the garden listening to the song of a little bird that was singing among the rose-trees, near where he was kneeling at his prayers. And the brother, while he was speaking, gazed at him very earnestly, and then told him that there was in the convent a tradition of a brother of his name, who had left it two hundred years before, but that what was become of him was never known. And while he was speaking, the holy man said. My hour of death is come; blessed be the name of the Lord for all his mercies to me, through the merits of his only-begotten Son. And he kneeled down that very moment, and said, Brother, take my confession, for my soul is departing. And he made his confession, and received his absolution, and was anointed and before midnight he died. The little bird, you see, was an angel, one of the cherubims or seraphims; and that was the way the Almighty was pleased in His mercy to take to Himself the soul of that holy man. 143 Conversion of King Laoghair's Daughters Once when Patrick and his clerics were sitting beside a well in the Rath of Crogan, with books open on their knees, they saw coming towards them the two young daughters of the King of Connaught. 'Twas early morning, and they were going to the well to bathe. The young girls said to Patrick, Whence are ye, and whence come ye? And Patrick answered, It were better for you to confess to the true God than to inquire concerning our race. Who is God? Said the young girls, and where is God and of what nature is God, and where is His dwelling-place? Has your God sons and daughters, gold and silver? Is He in heaven, or on earth, in the sea, in rivers, in mountainous places, in valleys? Patrick answered them, and made known who God was, and they believed and were baptized, and a white garment put upon their heads; and Patrick asked them would they live on or would they die and behold the face of Christ/ They chose death, and died immediately, and were buried near the well Clebach. 144 The Demon Cat Lady Wilde There was a woman in Connemara, the wife of a fisherman; as he had always good luck, she had plenty of fish at all times stored away in the house ready for market. But, to her great annoyance, she found that a great cat used to come in at night and devour all the best and finest fish. So she kept a big stick by her, and determined to watch. One day, as she and a woman were spinning together, the house suddenly became quite dark; and the door was burst open as if by the blast of the tempest, when in walked a huge black cat, who went straight up to the fire, and then turned round and growled at them. Why, surely this is the devil, said a young girl, who was by, sorting fish. I'll teach you how to call me names, said the cat; and, jumping at her, he scratched her arm till the blood came. There now, he said, you will be more civil another time when a gentleman comes to see you. And with that he walked over to the door and shut it close, to prevent any of them going out, for the poor young girl, while crying loudly from fright and pain, had made a desperate rush to get away. Just then a man was going by, and hearing the cries, he pushed open the door and tried to get in; but the cat stood on the threshold, and would let no one pass. On this the man attacked him with his stick, and gave him a sound blow; the cat, however, was more than a match in the fight, for it flew at him and tore his face and hands so badly that the man at last took to his heels and ran away as fast as he could. Now, it's time for my dinner, said the cat, going up to examine the fish that was laid out on the tables. I hope the fish is good today. Now, don't disturb me, nor make a fuss; I can help myself. With that he jumped up, and began to devour all the best fish, while he growled at the woman. Away, out of this, you wicked beast, she cried, giving it a blow with the tongs that would have broken its back only it was a devil; out of this, no fish you have today. But the cat only grinned at her, and went on tearing and spoiling and devouring the fish, evidently not a bit the worse for the blow. On this, both the women attacked it with sticks, and struck hard blows enough to kill it, on which the cat glared at them, and spit fire, then, making a leap, it tore their heads and arms till the blood came, and the frightened women rushed shrieking from he house. But presently the mistress returned, carrying with her a bottle of holy water; and , looking in, she saw the cat still devouring the fish and not minding. So she crept over quietly and threw holy water on it without a word. No sooner was this done than a dense black smoke filled the place, through which nothing was seen but the two red eyes of the cat, burning like coals of fire. Then the smoke gradually cleared away, and she saw the body of the creature burning slowly till it became shriveled and black like a cinder, and finally disappeared. And from that time the fish remained untouched and safe from harm, for the power of the evil one was broken, and the demon cat was seen no more. 145 The Long Spoon Patrick Kennedy The devil and the hearth-money collector for Bantry set out one summer morning to decide a bet they made the night before over a jug of punch. The wanted to see which would have the best load at sunset, and neither was to pick up anything that wasn't offered with the good-will of the giver. They passed by a house and they learned the poor ban-a-t'yee (woman of the house) cry out to her lazy daughter, Oh, musha-----take you for a lazy sthronsuch (lazy thing) of a girl! Do you intend to get up today? Oh;oh, says the taxman, there's' a job for you, Nick. Ovock, says the other, it wasn't' from her heart she said it; we must pass on. The next cabin they were passing, the woman was on the bawnditch (enclosure wall) crying out to her husband that was mending one of his brogues inside: Oh, tattheration to you, Nick! You never rung them pigs, and there they are in the potato drills rootin' away; the----run to Lusk with them. Another windfall for you, says the man of the inkhorn, but the old thief shook his horns and wagged his tail. So they went on, and ever so many prizes were offered to the black fellow without him taking one. Here it was a gorsoon playing marvels when he should be using his clappers in the corn -field; and then it was a lazy drone of a servant asleep with his face to the sod when he ought to be weeding. No one thought of offering the hearth-money man even a drink of butter-milk, and at last the sun was within half a foot of the edge of Coolagh. They were just then passing Monmolin, and a poor woman that was straining her supper in a skeeoge outside her cabin-door, seeing the two standing at the bawn gate, bawled out, Oh, here's the hearth-money man-run away wid him. Got a bite at last, says Nick. Oh, no, no! it wasn't from her heart, says the collector. Indeed, an' it was from the very foundation-stones it came. No help for misfortunes; in with you, says he, opening the mouth of his big black bag; and whether the devil was ever after seen taking the same walk or not, nobody ever laid eyes on his fellow-traveller again. 146 The Farie’s Dancing-Place William Carleton Lanty M’Clusky had married a wife, and, of course, it was necessary to have a house in which to keep her. Now, Lanty had taken a bit of a farm, about six acres; but as there was no house on it, he resolved to build one; and that it might be as comfortable as possible, he selected for the site of it one of those beautiful green circles that are supposed to be the play-ground of the fairies. Lanty was armed against this; but as he was a headstrong man, and not much given to fear, he said he would not change such a pleasant situation for his house to oblige all the fairies in Europe. He accordingly proceeded with the building, which he finished off very neatly; and , as it is usual on these occasions to give one’s neighbours and friends a house-warming, so, in compliance with this good and pleasant old custom, Lanty having brought home the wife in the course of the day, got a fiddler and a lot of whiskey, and gave those who had come to see him a dance in the evening. This was all very well, and the fun and hilarity were proceeding briskly, when a noise was heard after night had set in, like a crushing and straining of ribs and rafters on the top of the house. The folks assembled all listened, and, without doubt, there was nothing heard but crushing, heaving, and pushing, and groaning, and panting, as if a thousand little men were engaged in pulling down the roof. Come, said a voice which spoke in a tone of command, work hard; you know we must have Lanty’s house down before midnight. This was an unwelcome piece of intelligence to Lanty, who, finding that his enemies were such as he could not cope with, walked out, and addressed them as follows; Gintlemen, I humbly ax yer pardon for buildin’ on any place belongin’ to you; but if you’ll have the civilitude to let me alone this night, I’ll begin to pull down and remove the house tomorrow morning. This was followed by a noise like the clapping of a thousand tiny little hands, and a shout of Bravo, Lanty! Build half-way between the two White-thorns above the boreen; and after another hearty little shout of exultation, there was a brisk rushing noise, and they were heard no more. The story, however, does not end here; for Lanty when digging the foundation of his new house, found the full of a kam of gold (metal vessel=Kam); so that in leaving the fairies their play-ground, he became a richer man than ever he otherwise would have been, had he never come in contact with them at all. 147 A fairy Enchantment Story-teller: Michael Hart Recorder: W.B. Yeats In the times when we used to travel by canal I was coming down from Dublin. When we came to Mullingar the canal ended, and I began to walk, and stiff and fatigued I was after the slowness. I had some friends with me, and now and then we walked, now and then we rode in a cart. So on till we saw some girls milking a cow, and stopped to joke with them. After a while we asked them for a drink of milk. We have nothing to put it in here, they said, but come to the house with us. We went home with them and sat round the fire talking. After a while the others went, and left me loath to stir from the good fire. I asked the girls for something to eat. There was a pot on the fire and they took the meat out and put it on a plate and told me to eat only the meat that came from the head. When I had eaten, the girls went out and I did not see them again. It grew darker and darker, and there I still sat, loath as ever to leave the good fire, and after a while two men came in, carrying between them a corpse. When I saw them I hid behind the door. Says one to the other, Who’ll turn the spit? Says the other, Michael Hart, come out of that and turn the meat! I came out in a tremble and began turning the spit. Michael Hart, says the one who spoke first, if you let it burn we will have to put you on the spit instead, and on that they went out. I sat there trembling and turning the corpse until midnight. The men came again, and the one said it was burnt, and the other said it was done right, but having fallen out over it, they both said they would do me no harm that time; and sitting by the fire one of them cried out, Michael Hart, can you tell a story? Never a one, said I. On that he caught me by the shoulders and put me out like a shot. It was a wild, blowing night; never in all my born days did I see such a night—the darkest night that ever came out of the heavens. I did not know where I was for the life of me. So when one of the men came after me and touched me on the shoulder with a Michael Hart, can you tell a story now?- I can, says I. In he brought me, and putting me by the fire says Begin. I have no story but the one, says I, that I was sitting here, and that you two men brought in a corpse and put it on the spit and set me a turning it. That will do, says he, you may go in there and lie down on the bead. And in I went, nothing loath, and in the morning where was I but in the middle of a green field. 148 The Death of Bran One day Finn was hunting and Bran went following after a fawn. And they were coming towards Finn, and the fawn called out, and it said: If I go into the sea below I will never come back again; and if I go up into the air above me, it will not save me from Bran. For Bran would overtake the wild geese, she was that swift. Go out through my legs, said Finn then. So the fawn did that, and Bran followed her; and as Bran went under him, Finn squeezed his two knees on her, at that she died on the moment. And there was great grief on him after that, and he cried tears down the same as he did when Osgar died. And some said it was Finn’s mother the fawn was, and that it was to save his mother he killed Bran. But that is not likely, for his mother was beautiful Murine, daughter of Dadg, son of Nuada of the Tuatha de Danaan, and it was never heard that she was changed into a fawn. It is more likely it was Oisin’s mother was in it. But some say Bran and Sceolan are still seen to start at night out of the thicket on the hill of Almhuin. 149 The Midwife of Listowel J. Curtin Why do you call the fairies good people? Asked I. I don’t call them the good people myself, answered Duvane, but that is what the man called them who told me the story. Some call them the good people to avoid vexing them. I think they are called the good people mostly by pious men and women, who say that they are some of the fallen angels. How is that? They tell us that when the Lord cast down the rebel angels the chief of them all and the ringleaders went to the place of eternal punishment, but that the Lord stopped his hand while a great many were on the way. Wherever they were when he stopped his hand there they are to this day. Some of these angels are under the earth; others are on the earth, and still others in the air. People say that they are among us at all times, that they know everything htat is going on, that they have great hope of being forgiven at the day of judgment by the Lord and restored to heaven, and that if they hadn’t that hope they would destroy this world and all that’s in it. At this juncture the mason called out: I will not say whether I think the fairies are fallen angels or who they are, but I remember a case in which a woman lost an eye through the fairies. If you do, said I, I hope you will tell it. I will indeed, said he. There was an old woman, a midwife, who lived in a little house by herself between this and Listowel. One evening there was a knock at the door; she opened it, and what should she see but a man who said she was wanted, and to go with him quickly. He begged her to hurry. She made herself ready at once, the man waiting outside. When she was ready the man sprang on a fine, large horse, and put her up behind him. Away raced the horse then. They went a great distance in such a short time that it seemed to her only two or three miles. They came to a splendid large house and went in. The old woman found a beautiful lady inside. No other woman was to be seen. A child was born soon, and the man brought a vial of ointment, told the old woman to rub it on the child, but to have a great care and not touch her own self with it. She obeyed him and had no intention of touching herself, but on a sudden her left eye itched. She raised her hand, and rubbed the eye with one finger. Some of the ointment was on her finger, and that instant she saw great crowds of people around her, men and women. She knew that she was in a fort among fairies, and was frightened, but had courage enough not to show it, and finished her work. The man came to her then, and said; I will take you home now. He opened the door, went out, sprang to the saddle, and reached his hand to her, but her eye was opened now and she saw that in place of a horse it was an old plough beam that was before her. She was more in dread than ever, but took her seat, and away went the plough beam as swiftly as the very best horse in the kingdom. The man left her down at her own door, and she saw no more of him. Some time after there was a great fair at Listowel. The old midwife went to the fair, and there were big crowds of people on every side of her. The old woman looked around for a while and what did she see but the man who had taken her away on a plough beam. He was hurrying around, going in and out among the people, and no one knowing he was in but the old woman. At last the finest young girl at the fair screamed and fell in faint-the fairy had thrust something into her side. A crowd gathered around the young girl. The old woman, who had seen all, made her way to the girl, examined her side, and drew a pin from it. The girl recovered. A little later the fairy made his way to the old woman. Have you seen me before? Asked he. Oh, maybe I have, said she. Do you remember that I took you to a fort to attend a young woman? I do. When you anointed the child did you touch any part of yourself with the ointment I gave you? I did without knowing it; my eye itched and I rubbed it with my finger. Which eye? The left. The moment she said that he struck her left eye and took the sight from it. She went home blind of one eye, and was that way the rest of her life. 150 Tom Daly and the Nut-Eating Ghost Tom Daly lived between Kenmare and Skneem, but nearer to Kenmare, nad had an only son, who was called Tom, after the father. When the son was eighteen years old Tom Daly died, leaving a widow and this son. The wife was paralyzed two years before Tom’s death, and could rise out of bed only as she was taken out, but as the fire was near the bed she could push a piece of turf into it if the turf was left at hand. Tom Daly while alive was in the employ of a gentleman living at Drummond Castle. Young Tom got the father’s place, and he looked on his godfather as he would on his own father, for the father and godfather had been great friends always, and Tom’s mother was as fond of the godfather as she was of her own husband. Four years after old Tom died the godfather followed him. He was very fond of chestnuts, and when he came to die he asked his friends to put a big wooden dish of them in his coffin, so he might come at the nuts in the next world. They carried out the man’s wishes. The godfather was buried, and the bed-ridden widow mourned for him as much as for her own husband. The young man continued to work for the gentleman at Drummond Castle, and in the winter it was often late in the evening before he could come home. There was a short cut from the gentleman’s place through a grove and past the graveyard. Young Tom was going home one winter night, the moon was shining very brightly. While passing the graveyard he saw a man on a big tomb that was in it, and he cracking nuts. Young Daly saw that it was on his grandfather’s tomb the man was, and when he remembered the nuts that were buried with him he believed in one minute that it was the godfather who was before him. He was greatly in dread then, and ran off as fast as ever his legs could carry him. When he reached home he was out of breath and panting. What is on you, asked the mother, and to be choking for breath? Sure I saw my godfather sitting on the tomb and he eating the nuts that were buried with him. Bad luck to you, said the mother; don’t be belying the dead, for it is as great a sin to tell one lie on the dead as ten on the living. God knows, said Tom, that I’d not belie my godfather, and ‘tis he that is in it; and hadn’t I enough time to know him before he died? Do you say in truth, Tom, that ‘tis your godfather? As sure as you are my mother there before me ‘tis my godfather that’s in the graveyard cracking nuts. Bring me to him, for the mercy of God, till I ask him about your own father in the other world. I’ll not do that, said Tom. What a queer thing it would be to bring you to the dead. Isn’t it better to go, Tom dear, and speak to him? Ask about your father, and know is he suffering in the other world. If he is we can relieve him with masses for his soul. Tom agreed at last, and, as the mother was a cripple, all he could do was to put a sheet around her and take her on his back. He went then towards the graveyard. There was a great thief living not far from Kemmare, and he came that night towards the estate of the gentleman where Tom was working. The gentleman had a couple of hundred fat sheep that were grazing. The thief made up his mid to have one of the sheep, and he sent an apprentice boy that he had to catch one, and said that he’d keep watch on the top of the tomb. As he had some nuts in his pockets, the thief began to crack them. The boy went for the sheep, but before he came back the thief saw Tom Daly, with his mother on his back. Thinking that it was his apprentice with the sheep, he called out, Is she fat? Tom Daly, thinking it was the ghost asking about the mother , dropped her and said, Begor, then, she is and heavy! Away with him, then, as fast as ever his two legs could carry him, leaving the mother behind. She, forgetting her husband and thinking the ghost would kill and eat her, jumped up, ran home like a deer, and was there as soon as her son. God spare you, mother, how could you come! Cried Tom, and be here as soon as myself? Sure I moved like a blast of March wind, said the old woman; ‘tis the luckiest ride I had in my life, for out of the fright the good Lord gave me my legs again. 151 James Murray and Saint Martin Told By Timothy Sheahy/ J.Curtin There was a small farmer named James Murray, who lived between this and Slieve Mish. He had the grass of seven cows, but though he had the land, he hadn’t stock to put on it; he had but the one cow. Being a poor man, he went to Cork with four firkins of butter for a neighbour. He never thought what day of the month it was until he had the butter sold in the city, and it was Saint Martin’s eve at the time. Himself and his father before him and his grandfather had always killed something to honor St. Martin, and when he was in Cork on St. Martin’s eve he felt heartsore and could not eat. He walked around and muttered to himself: I wish to the Almighty God I was at home; my house will be disgraced forever. The words weren’t out of his mouth when a fine looking gentleman stood before him and asked: What trouble is on you, good man? James Murray told the gentleman. Well, my poor man, you would like to be at home to-night? Indeed, then, I would, and but for I forgot the day of the month, it isn’t here I’d be now, poor as I am. Where do you live? Near the foot of Slieve Mish, in Kerry. Bring out your horse and creels, and you will be at home. What is the use in talking? ‘Tis too far for such a journey. Never mind; bring out your horse. James Murray led out the horse, mounted, and rode away. He thought he wasn’t two hours on the road when he was going in at his own door. Sure, his wife was astonished and didn’t believe that he could be home from Cork in that time; it was only when he showed the money they paid him for the other man’s butter that she believed. Well, this is St. Martin’s eve! It is, said she. What are we to do? I don’t know, for we have nothing to kill. Out went James and drove in the cow. What are you going to do? Asked the wife. To kill the cow in honour of St. Martin. Indeed, then, you will not. I will, indeed, and he killed her. He skinned the cow and cooked some of her flesh, but the woman was down in the room at the other end of the house lamenting. Come up now and eat your supper, said the husband. But she would not eat, and was only complaining and crying. After supper the whole family went to bed. Murray rose at daybreak next morning, went to the door, and saw seven gray cows, and they feeding in the field. Whose cows are those eating my grass? Cried he, and ran out to drive them away. Then he saw that they were not like other cattle in the district, and they were fat and bursting with milk. I’ll have the milk at least, to pay for the grass they’ve eaten, said James Murray. So his wife milked the gray cows and he drove them back to the field. The cows were contented in themselves and didn’t wish to go away. Next day he published the cows, but no one ever came to claim them. It was the Almighty God and St. Martin who sent these cows, said he, and he kept them. In the summer all the cows had heifer calves, and every year for seven years they had heifer calves, and the calves were all gray, like the cows. James Murray got very rich, and his crops were the best in the country. He bought new land and had a deal of money put away; but it happened on the eighth year one of the cows had a bull calf. What did Murray do but kill the calf. That minute the seven old cows began to bellow and run away, and the calves bellowed and followed them, all ran and never stopped till they went into the sea and disappeared under the waves. They were never seen after that, but, as Murray used to give away a heifer calf sometimes during the seven years, there are cows of that breed around Slieve, Mish, and Dingle to this day, and every one is as good as two cows. 152 Cliodna’s Wave And it was in the time of the Fianna of Ireland that Ciabhan of the Curling Hair, the king of Ulster’s son, went to Manannan’s country. Ciabhan now was the most beautiful of the young men of the world at that time, and he was as far beyond all othe king’s sons as the moon is beyond the stars. And Finn liked him well, but the rest of the Fianna got to be tired of him because there was not a woman of their women, wed or unwed, but gave him her love. And Finn had to send him away at the last, for he was in dread of the men of the Fianna because of the greatness of their jealousy. So Ciabhan went on till he came to the Strand of the Cairn, that is called now the Strand of the Strong Man, between Dun Sobairce and the sea. And there he saw a curragh, and it having a narrow stern of copper. And Ciabhan got into the curragh, and his people said: Is it to leave Ireland you have a mind, Ciabhan? It is indeed, he said, for in Ireland I get neither shelter or protection. He bade farewell to his people then, and he left them very sorrowful after him, for to part with him was like the parting of life from the body. And Ciabhan went on in the curragh, and great white shouting waves rose up about him, every one of them the size of a mountain; and the beautiful speckled salmon that are used to stop in the sand and the shingle rose up to the sides of the curragh, till great dread came on Ciabhan, and he said: By my word, if it was on land I was I could make a better fight for myself. And he was in this danger till he saw a rider coming towards him on a dark grey horse having a golden bridle, and he would be under the sea for the length of nine waves, and he would rise with the tenth wave, and no wet on him at all. And he said: What reward would you give to whoever would bring you out of this great danger? Is there anything in my hand worth offering you? Said Ciabhan. There is, said the rider, that you would give your service to who ever would give you his help. Ciabhan agreed to that, and he put his hand into the rider’s hand. With that the rider drew him on to the horse, and the curragh came on beside them till they reached to the shore of Tir Tairngaire, the Land of Promise. They got off the horse there, and came to Loch Luchra, the Lake of the Dwarfs, and to Manannan’s city, and a feast was after being made ready there, and comely serving boys were going round with smooth horns, and playing on sweet- sounding harps till the whole house was filled with the music. Then there came in clowns, long-snouted, long-heeled, lean, and bald, and red, that used to be doing tricks in Manannan’s house. And one of these tricks was, a man of the mto take nine straight willow rods, and to throw them up to the rafters of the house, and to catch them again as they came down, and he standing on one leg, and having but one hand free. And they thought no one could do that trick but themselves, and they were used to ask strangers to do it, the way they could see them fail. So this night when one of them had done the trick, he came up to Ciabhan, that was beyond all the Men of Dea or the Sons of the Gael that were in the house, in shape and in walk and in name, and he put the nine rods in his hand. And Ciabhan stood up and he did the feat before them all, the same as if he had never learned to do any other thing. Now Gebann, that was a chief Druid in Manannan’s country, had a daughter, Cliodna of the Fair Hair, that had never given her love to any man. But when she saw Ciabhan she gave him her love, and she agreed to go away with him on the morrow. And they went down to the landing-place and got into a curragh, and they went on till they came to Teite’s Strand in the southern part of Ireland. It was from Teite Brec the Freckled the strand got its name, that went there one time for a wave game, and three times fifty young girls with her, and they were all drowned in that place. And as to Ciabhan, he came on shore, and went looking for deer, as was right, under the thick branches of the wood; and he left the young girl in the boat on the strand. But the people of Manannan’s house came after them, having forty ships. And Iuchnu, that was in the curragh with Cliodna, did treachery, and he played music to her till she lay down in the boat and fell asleep. And then a great wave came up on the strand and swept her away. And the wave got its name from Cliodna of the Fair Hair, that will be long remembered.-Lady Gregory 153 The Birth of Bran This, now is the story of the birth of Bran. Finn’s mother, Muirne, came one time to Almhuin, and she brought with her Tuiren, her sister. And Iollan Eachtach, a chief man of the Fianna of Ulster, was at Almhuin at the time, and he gave his love to Tuiren, and asked her in Marriage, and brought her to his own house. But before they went, Finn made him give his word he would bring her back safe and sound if ever he asked for her, and he bade him find sureties for himself among the chief men of the Fianna. And Iollan did that and the sureties he got were Caoilte and Goll and Lugaidh Lamha, and it was Lugaidh gave her into the hand of Iollan Eachtach. But before Iollan made that marriage, he had a sweetheart of the Sidh, Uchdealb of the Fair Breast; and there came great jealousy on her when she knew he had taken a wife. And she took the appearance of Finn’s woman-messenger, and she came to the house where Tuiren was, and she said: Finn sends health and long life to you, queen, and he bids you to make a great feast; and come with me now, she said, till I speak a few words with you for there is hurry on me. So Tuiren went out with her, and when they were away from the house the woman of the Sidh took out her dark Druid rod from under her cloak and gave her a blow of it that changed her into a hound, the most beautiful that was ever seen. And then she went on, bringing the hound with her, to the house of Fergus Fionnliath, king of the harbour of Gallimh. And it is the way Fergus was, he was the most unfriendly man to dogs in the whole world, and he would not let one stop in the same house with him. But it is what Uchtdealb said to him.: Finn wishes you life and health, Fergus, and he says to you to take good care of his hound till he comes himself; and mind her well, she said, for she is with young, and do not let her go hunting when her time is near, or Finn will be no way thankful to you. I wonder at that message, said Fergus, for Finn knows well there is not in the world a man has less liking for dogs than myself. But for all that, he said I will not refuse Finn the first time he sent a hound to me. And when he brought the hound out to try her, she was the best he ever knew, and she never saw the wild creature she would not run down; and Fergus took a great liking for hounds from that. And when her time came near, they did not let her go hunting any more, and she gave birth to two whelps. And as to Finn, when he heard his mother’s sister was not living with Iollan Eachtach, he called to him for the fulfillment of the pledge that was given to the Fianna. And Iollan asked time to go looking for Tuiren, and he gave his word that if he did not find her he would give himself up in satisfaction for her. So they agreed to that, and Iollan went to the hill where Uchtdealb was, his sweetheart of the Sidhe, and told her the way things were with him, and the promise he had made to give himself up to the Fianna. If that is so, said she, and if you will give me your pledge to keep me as your sweetheart to the end of your life, I will free you from that danger. So Iollan gave her his promise, and she went to the house of Fergus Fionnliath, and she brought Tuiren away and put her own shape on her again, and gave her up to Finn. And Finn gave her to Lugaidh Lamha that asked her in marriage. And as to the two whelps, they stopped always with Finn and the names he gave them were Bran and Sceolan.-Lady Gregory 154 Red Ridge There was another young man came and served Finn for a while, out of Connacht he came, and he was very daring and the Red Ridge was the name they gave him. And he all but went from Finn one time, because of his wages that were too long in coming to him. And the three battalions of the Fianna came trying to quiet him, but he would not stay for them. And at the last Finn himself came, for it is a power he had, if he would make but three verses he would quiet any one. And it is what he said: Daring Red Ridge, he said, good in battle, if you go from me today with your great name it is a good parting for us. But once at Rath Cro, he said, I gave you three times fifty ounces in the one day and at Carn Ruidhe I gave you the full of my cup of silver and of yellow gold. And do you remember, he said, the time we were at Rath Ai, when we found the two women, and when we ate the nuts myself and yourself were there together. And after that the young man said no more about going from him. And another helper came to Finn one time he was fighting at a ford, and all his weapons were used or worn with the dint of the fight. And there came to him a daughter of Mongan of the Sidhe, bringing him a flat stone having a chain of gold to it. And he took the stone and did great deeds with it. And after the fight the stone fell into the ford, that got the name of Ath Liag Finn. And that stone will never be found till the Woman of the Waves will find it, and will bring it to land on a Sunday morning; and on that day seven years the world will come to an end.-Lady Gregory 155 Conn Crither Finn now, when he had turned from his road to go to Credhe’s house, had sent out watchmen to every landing-place to give warning when the ships of the strangers would be in sight. And the man that was keeping watch at the White Strand was Conn Crither, son of Bran, from Teamhair Luachra. And after he had been a long time watching, he was one night west from the Round Hill of the Fianna that is called Cruachan Adrann, and there he fell asleep. And while he was in his sleep the ships came; and what roused him was the noise of the breaking of shields and the clashing of swords and of spears, and the cries of women and children and of dogs and horses that were under flames, and that the strangers were making an attack on. Conn Crither started up when he heard that, and he said: It is great trouble has come on the people through my sleep, and I will not stay living after this, he said, for Finn and the Fianna of Ireland to see me, but I will rush into the middle of the strangers he said, and they will fall by me till I fall by them. He put on his suit of battle then and ran down towards the strand. And on the way he saw three women dressed in battle clothes before him, and fast as he ran he could not overtake them. He took his spear then to make a cast of it at the woman who was nearest him, but she stopped on the moment, and she said: Hold your hand and do not harm us , for we are not come to harm you but to help you. Who are you yourselves? Said Conn Crither. We are three sisters, she said, and we are come from Tir nan Og, the Country of the Young, and we have all three given you our love, and no one of us loves you less than the other and it is to give you our help we are come. What way will you help me? Said Conn. We will give you good help, she said, for we will make Druid armies about you from stalks of grass and from the tops of the watercress, and they will cry outto the strangers and will strike their arms from their hands, and take from them their strength and their eyesight. And we will put a Druid mist about you now, she said, that will hide you from the armies of the strangers, and they will not see you when you make an attack on them. And we have a well of healing at the foot of Slieve Iolair, the Eagle’s mountain, she said, and its waters will cure every wound made in battle. And after bathing in that well you will be as whole and as sound as the day you were born. And bring whatever man you like best with you, she said and we will heal him along with you. Conn Crither gave them his thanks for that, and he hurried on on the strand. And it was at that time the armies of the King of the Great Plain were taking spoils from Traig Moduirn in the north to Finntraighe in the south. And Conn Crither came on them and the Druid army from him, and he took their spoils from them, and the Druid army took their sight and their strength from them, and they were routed, and they made away to where the King of the Great Plain was, and Conn Crither followed killing and destroying. Stop with me, king-hero, said the king of the Great Plain, that I may fight with you on account of my people, since there is not one of them that turns to stand against you. So the two set their banners in the earth and attacked one another, and fought a good part of the day until Conn Crither struck off the king’s head. And he lifted up the head, and he was boasting of what he had done. By my word, he said, I will not let myself be parted from this body till some of the Fianna, few or many, will come to me.-Lady Gregory 156 Lomna’s Head Finn took a wife one time of the Luigne of Midhe. And at the same time there was in his household one Lomna, a fool. Finn now went into Tethra, hunting with the Fianna, but Lomna stopped at the house. And after a while he saw Coirpre, a man of the Luigne, go in secretly to where Finn’s wife was. And when the woman knew he had seen that, she begged and prayed of Lomna to hide it from Finn. And Lomna agreed to that, but it preyed on him to have a hand in doing treachery on Finn. And after a while he took a four-square rod and wrote in Ogham on it, and these were the words he wrote- An alder stake in a paling of silver; deadly nightshade in a bunch of cresses; a husband of a lewd woman; a fool among the well-taught Fianna; heather on the bare Ualann of Luigne. Finn saw the message, and there was anger on him against the woman; and she knew well it was from Lomna he had heard the story, and she sent a message to Coirpre bidding him to come and kill the fool. So Coirpre came and struck his head off, and brought it away with him. And when Finn came back in the evening, he saw the body, and it without a head. Let us know whose body is this, said the Fianna. And then Finn did the divination of rhymes, and it is what he said: It is the body of Lomna; it is not by a wild boar he was killed; it is not by a fall he was killed; it is not in his bed he died; it is by his enemies he died; it is not a secret to the Luigne the way he died. And let out the hounds now on their track, he said. So they let out the hounds, and put them on the track of Coirpre, and Finn followed them, and they came to a house, and Coirpre in it, and three times nine of his men , and he cooking fish on a spit; and Lomna’s head was on the spike beside the fire. And the first of the fish that was cooked Coirpre divided between his men, but he put no bit into the mouth of the head. And then he made a second division in the same way. Now that was against the Fianna, and the head spoke, and it said. As speckled white-bellied salmon that grows from a small fish under the sea; you have shared a share that is not right; the Fianna will avenge it upon you, Coirpre. Put the head outside said Coirpre, for that is an evil word for us. Then the head said from outside, It is in may pieces you will be; it is great fires will be lighted by Finn in Luigne. And as it said that, Finn came in, and he made an end of Coirpre, and of his men.-Lady Gregory ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 157. The Four Households There were many great saints among the Gael, but Patrick was the bush among them all. It was beyond the sea he was born, and his mother was a sister of St. Martin of Tours; and he dreamed in Rome, and walked all Ireland barefoot. It was in his young youth he was brought from France to Ireland as a slave, and he was set to serve four households, and he did his work so well that every one of the households thought him to be servant to itself alone; and it was by an angel the ashes used to be cleared away from the hearth for him. 158. He Gets His Freedom He was sent out after a while minding swine and he went through great hardships; but Victor the angel used to come to visit him and to teach him the order of prayer. And he had no way to buy his freedom , but one time a wild boar came rooting in the field, and brought up a lump of gold; and Patrick brought it to a tinker and the tinker said “It is nothing but solder, give it here to me”. But then he brought it to a smith, and the smith told him it was gold, and with that gold he bought his freedom. And from that time the smiths have been lucky, taking money everyday and never without work; but as for the tinkers, every man’s face is against them and their face is against every man, and they get no ease or rest, but are ever and always traveling the world. 159. The Man and Woman that were Always Young After that he went out to sea with foreigners and he went back to his own country, and his people asked him to stop there with them. But he would not; for always in his sleep he could see the island of the Gael, and he could hear the singing of the children of the Wood of Fochlad. He went over the sea of Icht then, and he fasted in the islands of the Torrian sea, and then he went to learn from Germanus, and after that again to Rome. And then he and his people went out to sea, nine in all, and they came to an island where they saw a new house, and a young man and a young woman in it; and they saw a withered old hag by the door of the house. “What happened this old woman?” said Patrick. “It is great her weakness is". “She is my own grandchild, old as she is,” said the young man. “What way did that happen?” said Patrick. “It is not hard to say that,” said the young man; “For we are here from the time of Christ” he said “and he came to visit us when he was here among men and we made a feast for him and he blessed our house and he blessed ourselves, but the blessing did not reach to our children. And this is the way we will be, without age coming upon us, to the Judgment. And it is a long time your coming is foretold to us” he said “and it is the will of God for you to go and to preach in the country of the Gael; and Christ left a token with us, a bent staff to be given to you. " 160. Patrick Goes Back to Ireland Patrick took the staff with him then and went back to Germanus. And Victor the angel came and said to him “It was God’s bidding to you to go back and to teach in the country of the Gael.” But Patrick was not willing to go and he complained to God of the hardheartedness of the Gael. And God said “I myself will be your helper.” Then Patrick went back to Rome and he was made a bishop, and when they were making a bishop of him the three quires answered to them, the quire of the people of Heaven, the quire of the Romans and the quire of the children of the Wood of Fochlad. It was in the east of Ireland he landed, at Inis Patrick; and three times before that the druids had foretold of his coming, and it is what they said, “Adzeheads will come over an angry sea; their cloaks hole-headed; their staves crooked; their tables to the east of their houses; they will all answer Amen.” At the time he landed it was the feast of Beltaine, and on that day every year the High King lighted a fire in Teamhuir, and there was geasa, that is a bond, upon the men of Ireland not to kindle a fire in any place before the kindling of that fire in Teamhuir. Patrick, now, struck the flame of the Paschal fire, and all the people saw it and it lighted up the whole of Magh Breg. “That is a breaking of bonds” said the king to his druids; “and find out for me” he said “who was it kindled that fire.” And it is what the druids said, “Unless that fire is quenched before morning in the same night it was kindled, it will never be quenched.” And when the fire was not quenched in that night, there was great anger on the king. 1 161. The Deer’s Cry Patrick made this hymn on time he was going to preach the Faith at Teamhuir, and his enemies lay in hiding to make an attack on him as he passed. But as he himself and Benen his servant went by, all they could see passing was a wild deer and a fawn. And the Deer’s Cry is the name of the hymn to this day. I bind myself today to a strong strength, to a calling on the Trinity. I believe in a Threeness with confession of a Oneness in the Creator of the World. “I bind myself today to the strength of Christ’s birth and his baptism; To the strength of his resurrection with his ascension In stability of earth, in steadfastness of rock, I bind to myself today God’s strength to pilot me; “God’s power to uphold me; God’s wisdom to guide me; God’s eye to look before me; God’s ear to hear me; “God’s word to speak for me; God’s hand to guard me; God’s path to lie before me; God’s shield to protect me ; God’s host to save me; “Against snares of demons; against the begging of sins; against the asking of nature; against all my ill-wishers near me and far from me; alone and in a crowd. “So I have called on all these strengths, to come between me and every fierce and merciless strength that may come between my body and my soul; “Against incantations of false prophets; against black laws of heathens; against false laws of heretics; against craft of idolatry; against spells of women and smiths and druids; against every knowledge forbidden to the souls of men; “Christ for my protection today against poison, against burning, against drowning, against wounding; that a multitude of rewards may come to me. “Christ with me, Christ before me; Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ under me, Christ over me; Christ to the right of me, Christ to the left of me; Christ in lying down, Christ in sitting, Christ in rising up; “Christ in the heart of everyone that thinks of me; Christ in the mouth of everyone that speaks to me; Christ in every eye that sees me; Christ in every ear that hears me. “I bind myself today a strong strength to a calling upon the Trinity; I believe in a Threeness with confession Of a Oneness in the Creator of the World. 162. Patrick and the Big Men It is often told by the people of Ireland how Oisin, son of Finn, came back to Ireland in the time of Patrick; and the poets of Ireland have put into verses the arguments they used to be having with one another. And there are some say Caoilte of the Fianna and a troop of his people were in Ireland at that same time; and whether or not that story is true, this is the way the meeting between himself and Patrick is put down in the old writings. Patrick was one time singing the Mass at the Rath of the Red Ridge where Finn, son of Cumhal, used to be, and his clerks were with him ,and the clerks saw Caoilte and his people coming towards them, and fear and terror fell on them before the great men and the great hounds that were with them; for they were not of the one time with themselves. It is then there rose up that high herdsman, that angel of the earth, Patrick son of Calpurn, Apostle of the Gael, and sprinkled holy water upon the big men, and with that every bad thing that was about them made away into the hills and the scalps and the borders of the country on every side, and the big men sat down. An there was great wonder on the clerks as they looked at them, for the tallest of themselves reached but to their waist or to their shoulders, and they sitting. “What name have you?” said Patrick then. “I am Caoilte, son of Ronan of the Fianna.” “Was it not a good lord you were with” said Patrick “that is Finn, son of Cumhal?”, and Caoilte said “If the brown leaves falling in the woods were of gold, if the waves of the sea were silver, Finn would have given away the whole of it.” What was it kept you through your lifetime?” said Patrick. “Truth that was in our hearts, and strength in our hands, and fulfillment in our tongues,” said Caoilte. Then Patrick gave them food and drink and good treatment and talked with them. And on the morning of the morrow his two protecting angels came to him out on the green, and he asked them was it any harm before the King of Heaven and earth, for him to be listening to the stories of the Fianna. And it was what the angels answered him: “ Holy Clerk” they said “it is no more than a third of their stories these old fighting-men can tell, by reason of forgetfulness and their memory that fails them; but whatever they tell, let you write it down on poet’s boards and in the words of poets, for it will be a diversion to the companies and the high people of the latter times to be listening to them. “ And Patrick did as they bade him, and he bade Brogan the scribe to write down all the stories told by Caoilte; and Brogan did that, and they are in the world to this day. 163. The Hidden Well of Usnach One time Diarmuid king of Ireland was with Patrick on the Hill of Usnach, and there was no water to be had; and one of the big men of the Fianna, it might have been Caoilte and it might have been Oisin, asked for a vessel that he might go and get it. And as he went he was looking back to see were they watching him, and when he was out of their sight he went to the Well of Usnach that was called the Whitebrimmed, and since the time of the battle of Gabra it had never been found by any man in Ireland. And when he came to the brink of the well he saw in it eight beautiful speckled salmon, for it was such a hidden place there was nothing for them to be in dread of. He took brooklime, and he put down the vessel into the well and he took the eight salmon alive and leaping like mad things. And then he went back and set the vessel before the King of Ireland, and there was wonder on them all seeing that; and the stalk of every one of the sprigs of the watercress reached as high as Diarmuid’s knee. “They must be divided into two shares he said “a half to Patrick and a half to ourselves.” “Not so” said Patrick “for there are more of you than of ourselves. But make three parts” he said and give one to the church for that is her own share;” and so it was done. “That is well, King of Ireland” he said then “but do not lose your share in heaven through these big men.” “What do you mean saying that?” said Diarmuid. “I mean that you have your thoughts too much taken up with them,” said Patrick. 164. Patrick and Cascorach the Musician One time the King of Ulster went up with Caoilte to a great liss that was called Foradh-na-Feinne, the Resting place of the Fianna. And when they were there they saw coming towards them a young man that was wearing a beautiful green cloak having in it a silver brooch; a shirt of yellow silk next to his skin he had; a coat of soft satin, and a harp from his neck. “Where do you come from and who are you yourself?” said the King. “ I come from the South from the hill of Bodb Dearg son of the Dagda.” said he ; “and I am Cascorach, son of Cainchen that is poet to the Tuatha de Danaan and I am the makings of a poet myself. And it is what I am come for now,” he said “to get true knowledge and the stories of the Fianna and their great deeds from Caoilte son of Ronan.” With that he took his harp and made music for them till he had put them all into their sleep. “Well Caoilte my soul,” he said then, “what answer will you give me?” “I will give you all you are asking” said Chalet. “if you have skill and understanding to learn all the Fianna did of arms and of bravery. and it was a great fighting man used to be in this place” he said, “that was Finn, son of Cumhal, and it is great riches and great wages you would have got from him for your music; although this day the place is empty.” And he made them this lament: “The Resting place of the Fianna is bare tonight where Finn of the naked sword used to be; through the death of the king that was without gloom, wide Almhuin is deserted; The right company are not living; Fionn the very prince is not alive; no armies to be seen, no captains with the King of the Fiann. They are all gone, the people of Finn, they that used to be going from valley to valley; it is a pity the life I have now, to be left after Diarmuid and Conan, after Gollson of Morna from the plain. It is the truth I am telling you; all that I say is true; it is great our losses were there beyond. They are gone, the armies and the hundreds; it is a pity. I myself not to have found death; they are all gone now; they used to be together from border to border.” Then Caoilte brought to mind the loss of the heroes and of the great companies he used to be going among, and he cried miserably, sorrowfully, till all his breast was wet with him. He set out after that and Cascorach with him and they went up by hills and rocks to the top of green grassed Slieve Fuad, to the rowan tree of the Meadow of the Two Stags and to the place where the men of Ulster left their chariots after the last battle of the War for the Bull of Cuailgne. And Patrick was there before him, having with him three times fifty bishops and three times fifty priests and three times fifty deacons and three times fifty singers of psalms. And they sat down there, and Patrick kept his Hours with praising the Maker of the world. Then he gave a welcome to Caoilte. “Well , my soul” he said “who is that well looking dark eyed browed curly headed young man that is with you having a harp with him?” “He is Cascorach son of the musician of the Tuatha De.Danann, that is come to find news and knowledge of the Fianna from me.” “ It is a good road he has chosen,” said Patrick. “And O Caoilte” he said “it is great good you yourself have waited for, the time of belief and of saints and of holiness, and to be in friendship with the King of Heaven and earth. And play to us now Cascorach,” he said ,“till we hear your music and your skill. “ “I will do that,” said Cascorach; “and I never was better pleased, holy Clerk, to do it for any man than for yourself.” He took his harp then and readied it, and played a strain of music, and the clerks had never heard the like of that music for sweetness, unless it might be the praises of the King of Heaven sung according to the Rule. And they all fell into their sleep listening to the continuous music of the Sidhe. And when Cascorach had made an end of playing, he asked a reward of Patrick. “What reward are you asking, my soul?” said Patrick. “Heaven for myself “ said he “for that is the reward is best; and good luck to go with my art and with all that will follow it after me.” “I give you heaven,” said Patrick, “and I give this to your art, it to be one of the three arts by which a man can find profit to the last in Ireland. And however great the grudgingness a man of your art may meet with, let him but make his music and no one will begrudge him anything. “And that they may have all happiness,” he said, “so long as they are not slothful in their trade.” After that Cascorach put back his harp in its covering. “That was good music you gave us,” said Brogan the scribe. “It was good indeed ,“ said Patrick; “and but for a taste of the music of the Sidhe that was in it I never heard anything nearer to the music of heaven.” “If there is music in heaven why should it not be on earth?” said Brogan. “And so it is not right to banish it away”. “I do not say we should banish it,” said Patrick, “but only that we should not hold to it out of measure.” 165. Patrick’s Farewell to Caoilte But after a good while Caoilte said “Holy Patrick, my soul, I am thinking it is time for me to be going tomorrow.” “Why would you go?” said Patrick. “To be searching out the hills and the hollows of every place where my comrades and the King of the Fianna used to be together with me, for it seems long for me to be in the one place.” And when they rose up on the morrow, Caoilte laid his hand in Patrick’s bosom and it is what Patrick said..” From myself to yourself, in the house or out of the house, in whatever place God will lay his hand on you, I give you Heaven". 166. Bodb Dearg’s Daughter Aedh King of Connacht was at Dun Leoda Loingsig one time giving a great feast. And it happened at the fall of the clouds of evening he came out on the green .lawn, and as he was there and the people of his household with him, he saw on one side a girl of wonderful appearance, having yellow hair, and she not looking at the people but only at the king. “Where do you come from girl?” said the king. “You are my sweetheart.” said she. “Whose daughter are you and what name have you? “ said the king. “I am Ailleann of the man shapes, daughter to Bodb Dearg, son of the Dagda. “ I have never seen a woman I would sooner have as a wife than yourself.” said the king “but that I am under the rule of Blessed Patrick and of the King of Heaven and earth. And Patrick bound me” he said “ to have one wife only, that is Aife daughter of Eoghan, King of Leinster. And would you wish to be seen by the great men of my kingdom?, he said “I would like it indeed,” said she “ for I am not an everliving woman of the Sidhe, but I am of the Tuatha de Danaan, having my own body about me. “ Then she showed herself to the whole gathering of the people and they never saw before or after a woman more beautiful than herself. “And what judgment do you put upon me King?” she said “Whatever judgment Blessed Patrick gives I will give it” said he. Then Aedh sent messengers to Patrick where he was in the south, and they brought him to Benn Gulbain in Maenmag. And Aedh the King went to meet him there and knelt before him and told him the whole story. “Are you the girl” said Patrick “that gave her love to the King of Connacht?” “I am “ said she. “Well girl” said Patrick “it is good your shape is and your appearance. And what is it keeps you like this,” he said “at the every height of your comeliness?” “Everyone that drank at Giobniu’s Feast,” she said, “no sickness or wasting comes upon them. And tell me now holy Clerk,” she said “what is your judgment on myself and on the King of Connacht?” “It is a good one” said Patrick; “it is settled by God and myself that a man must have one wife only.” “And I myself” said the girl “what am I to do?” " Go back to your house among the Sidhe” said Patrick “and if it should happen the King of Leinster’s daughter to die before yourself, let the man you have given your love to take you as his only wife. But if you should try to harm Aedh or his wife by day or by night,” he said “ I will destroy you the way neither your father or your mother or your fosterers will like to be looking at you.” Then the girl cried pitifully heavily, and the King said “I am dear to you.” “You are dear to me indeed", said she, “There is not one of the people of the world is dearer to me than yourself” said the king; “but I must not go beyond the conditions of the Adzehead and of God.” With that the girl went back to her hidden house among the Sidhe. And after a while the wife of the King of Connacht died at Uaran Garaid and was buried on the hill that is called the High Place of the Angels. And after that again there was a gathering made of all the five provinces of Ireland to hold the feast of Teamhuir. And Patrick and Aedh King of Connacht were out on the green; and they saw coming towards them Aillenn daughter of Bodb Dearg, having with her three fifties of the women of the Tuatha de Danaan, and she sat down on the grass beside Patrick and the King of Connacht, and she gave her message. Then Patrick said to the King “I will give her to you if you will take her as your wife” “Whatever you are willing for me to do I will do it” said the king. “I promised you would take her” said Patrick, “ if she would give up her false druid belief and kneel to the King of heaven and earth.” “Do you agree to that Ailenn?” said the king. “I agree to it “ said she. Then she rose up, and her women, and they all kneeled to Patrick, and Patrick joined her and the King in marriage. That now was the first marriage made by the Adzehead in Ireland. 167. Ethne the Beautiful and Fedelm the Rosy-Red Patrick was one time at Cruchan of Connacht, and he went up to the well that is called Cibach and that is opposite the rising of the sun, and he sat down beside the well, and his clerks with him. There were two daughters of Laoghaire the High King who were living at Rath Cruchan at that time, getting their learning from the druids, and the name of the one was Ethne and the other was Fedelm the Rosy-Red. And it was their custom every morning to come and to wash themselves in the well. And on this day when they came they saw a company of men having white clothes, and books before them beside the well. And there was great wonder on them and they thought them to be of the people of the Sidhe. And they questioned Patrick and said to him “Where do you come from? And where are you going? And is it gods you are” they said “or men from the hills of the Sidhe?” “ It would be better for you to believe in God than to be asking who we ourselves are” said Patrick. “Who is your god?” said Ethne then. “And where is he?” she said “Is it in the skies he is, or in the earth, or under the earth, or upon the earth, or in the seas or in the streams, or in the mountains or in the valleys? Is he beautiful? Has he sons and daughters? Is he of the everliving ones?” Patrick took in hand then to answer their questions and to teach them the true faith; and he told them it was fitting that they should join with the King of Glory being as they were the daughters of an earthly king. And when they had heard the whole story a great desire came upon them to serve Him. “And it is the desire of our hearts” they said “to see his Son, our husband.” “That is not possible” said Patrick “but through taking the body of Christ and through death.” “We would die surely” they said “if we might see Christ on the moment.” Then Patrick baptized them and gave them the Body of Christ, and put a white veil upon their heads, and they were filled with peace and with the friendship of God. And when they were sleeping in death, his people put them on a little bed, and laid coverings over them, and keened them there. 168. The Soul and the Body The Saviour told Patrick one time to go and prepare a man that was going to die. And Patrick said “I would sooner not go for I never yet saw the soul part from the body.” But after that he went and prepared the man. And when he was lying there dead, he saw the soul go from the body, and three times it went to the door and three times it came back and kissed the body. And Patrick asked the Saviour why it did that and he said “That soul was sorry to part from the body because it had kept it so clean and so honest.” 169. Patrick’s Rush Candles Patrick went one time into a house in the south, and the people of it were poor, and they had not a candle or a rush light or turf or sticks for a fire, but when the daylight was done what they had to do was to go to their bed. And when Patrick came in and saw the house so dark he said “Are there no green rushes growing in the bog?” So they went out and brought him in a bundle of green rushes and he took them in his hand and blessed them, and they gave out light through the whole of the night time. 170. His Church At Ardmacha Patrick was walking up the hill of Ardmacha one time with his people and they found a doe resting on the ground, and a fawn beside her. And his people were going to kill the fawn, but Patrick forbade them and he took it in his arms and carried it, and the doe came following after him. And it was in the place where he put down the fawn, the church of Ardmacha was built for him afterwards. 171. He is Waked by Angels When the time came for Patrick to die it is to Ardmacha he had a desire to go. But Victor the angel went to meet him on the road at midday and said “Go back to the place you came from, to the barn, for it is there your death will be. And give thanks to Christ” he said “for your prayers are granted; it is to Heaven you will soon be going,” And when his soul parted from his body, there was no candle wasted with him, but it was the angels of God kept lasting watch over him until the end of twelve nights, and through all that time there was no night in Magh Inis with the light of the angels. It is that was a long day of peace! And after his death there was near being a great battle between the men of Ulster and the Ua Neill, fighting for his body. But at the last it seemed to them that his body was brought by each of them to his own country, and so they were separated by God. 172. Brigit in Her Young Youth: Now as to Brigit she was born at sunrise on the first day of the spring,of a bondwoman of Connacht. And it was angels that baptized her and that gave her the name of Brigit, that is a Fiery Arrow. She grew up to be a serving girl the same as her mother. And all the food she used was the milk of a white red- eared cow that was set apart for her by a druid. And everything she put her hand to used to increase, and it was she wove the first piece of cloth in Ireland, and she put the white threads in the loom that have a power of healing in them to this day. She bettered the sheep and she satisfied the birds and she fed the poor. 173. Brigit in Her Father's House: And when she grew to be strong and to have good courage she went to her father Dubthach's house in Munster and stopped with him there. And one time there came some high person to the house, and food was made ready for him and for his people; and five pieces of bacon were given to Brigit, to boil them. But there came into the house a very hungry miserable hound, and she gave him out of pity a piece of the bacon. And when the hound was not satisfied with that she gave him another piece. Then Dubthach came and he asked Brigit were the pieces of bacon ready; and she bade him count them and he counted them , and the whole of the five pieces were there, not one of them missing. But the high guest that was there that Brigit had thought to be asleep had seen all, and he told her father all that happened. And he and the people that were with him did not eat that meat, for they were not worthy of it, but it was given to the poor and to the wretched. 174. She Minds the Dairy: After that Brigit went to visit her mother that was in bondage to a druid of Connacht. And it is the way she was at that time, at a grass-farm of the mountains having on it twelve cows, and she gathering butter. And there was sickness on her, and Brigit cared her and took charge of the whole place. And the churning she made, she used to divide it first into twelve parts in honour of the twelve apostles of our lord; and the thirteenth part she would make bigger than the rest, to the honour of Christ, and that part she would give to strangers and to the poor. And the serving boy wondered to see her doing that, but it is what she used to say:"It is in the name of Christ I feed the poor; for Christ is in the body of every poor man"' 175. She Fills The Vessels: One time the serving boy went to the druid's house and they asked was the girl minding the dairy well. And he said"I am thankful, and the calves are fat;" for he dared not say anything against the girl, and she not there. But the druid got word of what she was doing and he came to visit the farm, and his wife along with him; and the cows were doing well, and the calves were fat. Then they went into the dairy, having with them a vessel eighteen hands in height. And Brigit bade them welcome and washed their feet, and made ready food for them, and after that they bade her fill up the vessel with butter. And she had but a churning and a half for them, and she went into the kitchen where it was stored and it is what she said: "O my High Prince who can do all these things, this is not a forbidden asking; bless my kitchen with thy right hand! "My kitchen, the kitchen of the white Lord;a kitchen that was blessed by my king; a kitchen where there is butter. "My Friend is coming, the Son of Mary; it is he blessed my kitchen; the Prince of the world comes to this place;that there may be plenty with him" After she had made that hymn she brought the half of the churning from the place where it was stored and the druid's wife mocked at her and said" It is good filling for a large vessel this much is!""Fill your vessel" said Brigit, "and God will add something to it." And she was going back to her kitchen and bringing half a churning every time and saying every time a verse of those verses. And if all the vessels of the men of Munster had been brought to her she would have filled the whole of them. 176. The Man That had lost his Wife's Love: Brigit would give herself to no man in marriage but she took the veil and after that she did great wonders. There came to her one time a man making his complaint that his wife would not sleep with him but was leaving him, and he came asking a spell from Brigit that would bring back her love. And Brigit blessed water for him and it was what she said:" Bring that water into your house, and put it in the food and in the drink and on the bed." And after he had done that, his wife gave him great love, so that she could not be as far as the other side of the house from him, but was always at his hand. And one day he set out on a journey, leaving the wife in her sleep, and as soon as she awoke from her sleep she rose up and followed after her man till she saw him, and there was a strip of the sea between them. And she called out to him it is what she said, that if he would not come back to her, she would go into the sea that was between them. 177. The Drying of Brigit's Cloak: One time Brennain, the saint of the Gael, came from the west to Brigit, to the plain of the Life, for he wondered at the great name she had for doing miracles and wonders. And Brigit came in from her sheep to welcome him, and as she came into the house she laid her cloak that was wet on the rays of the sun, and they held it up the same as hooks. Then Brennain bade his serving lad to put his cloak on the sun rays in the same way, and he put it on them, but twice it fell from them. Then Brennain himself put it on them the third time, and there was anger on him, and that time it stopped on the rays. 178. The King of Leinster's Fox: One time there was a man of her household cutting firing, and it chanced to him to kill a pet fox belonging to the King of Leinster, and the King had him bake prisoner. But Brigit called the fox out of the wood, and he came and was at his tricks and his games for the King and his people at Brigit's bidding. And when he had done his tricks he went away safe through the wood, and the army of Leinster, footmen and horsemen and hounds, after him. 179. Brigit Spreads Her Cloak: When she was a poor girl she was minding her cow one time at the Curragh of Life/e and she had no place to feed it but the side of the road. And a rich man that owned the land came by and saw her and he said:" How much land would it take to give grass to the cow?" "As much as my cloak would cover" said she. "I will give that" said the rich man. She laid down her cloak then, and it was spreading out miles and miles on every side. But there was a silly old woman passing by and she said "if that cloak goes on spreading, all Ireland will be free; and with that the cloak stopped and spread no more. And Brigit held that land through her lifetime, and it never had rent on it since, but the English Government have taken it now and have put barracks upon it. It is a pity the old woman spoke that time. She did not know Brigit to be better than any other one. 180. The leper who would be a King: A leper came one time to Brigit, asking a cow. And Brigit said "Would you sooner have a cow or be healed of your disease?" "I would sooner be healed" he said "than to have the sway over the whole world. For every sound man is a king" he said. Then Brigit prayed to God; and the leper was healed, and served her afterwards. 181. The Lake of Milk: The Seven Bishops came to her in a place she had in the north of Kildare, and she asked her cook Blathnet had she any food, and she said she had not. And Brigit was ashamed, being as she was without food before those holy men, and she prayed hard to the Lord. Then angels came and bade her to milk the cows for the third time that day. So she milked them herself, and they filled the pails with the milk, and the whole of Leinster. And the milk overflowed the vessels till it made a lake that is called the Lake of Milk to this day. 182. The Things Brigit Wished For: These were the wishes of Brigit: "I would wish a great lake of ale for the King of Kings; I would wish the family of Heaven to be drinking it through life and time. "I would wish the men of Heaven in my own house; I would wish vessels of peace to be giving to them. I would wish vessels full of alms to be giving away; I would wish ridges of mercy for peacemaking. I would wish joy to be in their drinking;I would wish Jesus to be here among them. I would wish the three Marys of great name; I would wish the people of Heaven from every side. I would wish to be a rent-payer to the Prince; the way if I was in trouble he would give me a good blessing. Whatever, now, Brigit would ask of the Lord, he would give it to her on the moment And it is what her desire was, to satisfy the poor, to banish every hardship, and to save every sorrowful man. 183. The Son of Reading: One time she was minding her sheep on the Curragh, and she saw a son of reading running past her. "What is it makes you so uneasy?" she said "and what is it you are looking for?" "It is to Heaven I am running, woman of the veil" said he scholar. "The Virgin's son knows he is happy that makes that journey" said Brigit. "And pray to God to make it easy for myself to go there" she said. "I have no time" said he; "for the gates of Heaven are open now, and I am in dread they might be shut against me. And as you are hindering me" he said "pray to the Master to make it easy for me to go there and I will pray him to make it easy for you" Then they said "Our Father" together, and he was religious from that out, and it was he gave her absolution at the last. And it is by reason of him that the whole of the sons of learning of the world are with Brigit. 184. The Fishes Honour Her: Brennain came to Brigit one time to ask why was it the beasts of the sea gave honour to her more than to the rest of the saints. Then they made their confession to each other, and Brennain said after that " In my opinion, girl, it is right the beasts are when they honour you above ourselves". 185. A Hymn Made for Brigit by Brennain or Another: " Brigit, excellent woman; sudden flame; may the bright fiery sun bring us to the lasting kingdom. "May Brigit save us beyond troups of demons; "May she break before us the battles of every death. "May she do away with the rent sin has put on us; the blossomed branch; the Mother of Jesus; the dear young woman greatly looked up to. That I may be safe in every place with my saint of Leinster. 186. The First of February: And from that time to this the housekeepers have a rhyme to say on Saint Brigit's day, bidding them to bring out a firkin of butter and to divide it among the working boys. For she was good always, and it was her desire to feed the poor, to do away with every hardship, to be gentle to every misery, And it is on her day the first of the birds begin to make their nests, and the blessed Crosses are mad with straw and are put up in the thatch; for the death of the year is don with and the birthday of the year is come. And it is what the Gael of Scotland say in a averse: " Brigit, but her finger in the river on the feast day of Brigit and away went the hatching-mother of the cold. "She washed the palms of her hands in the river on the day of the feast of Patrick, and away went the birth-mother of the cold." 187. A Hymn Brocan Made for Brigit: Victorious Brigit did not love the world; the spending of the world was not dear to her; a wonderful ladder for the people to climb to the kingdom of the Son of Mary. "A wild boar came among her swine; he hunted the wild pigs to the north; Brigit blessed him with her staff, that he made his dwelling with her own herd. "She was open in all her doings; she was only Mother of the great King's Son; she blessed the frightened bird till she played with it in her hand. "Before going with angels to the battle let us go running to the church; to remember the Lord is better than any poem. Victorious Brigit did not lover the world" 188. Her Care for Leinster: On the day of the battle of Almhuin, Brigit was seen over the men of Leinster, and Columcille was seen over the Ua Neill; and it was the men of Leinster won that battle. And a long time after that again, when Strongbow that had brought great trouble into Ireland and that was promised the kingdom of Leinster was near his end, he cried out from his bed that he saw Brigit of the Gael, and that it was she herself was bringing him to his death. 189. She Remembers the Poor: But if Brigit belonged to the east, it is not in the west she is forgotten, and the people of Burren and of Corcomruadh and Kinvara go every year to her blessed well that is near the sea, praying and remembering her. And in that well there is a little fish that is seen every seven years, and whoever sees that fish is cured of every disease. And there is a woman living yet that is poor and old and that saw that blessed fish, and this is the way she tells the story:" I had a pearl in my eye one time, and I went to Saint Brigit;s well on the cliffs.Scores of people there were in it, looking for cures, and some got them and some did not get them. And I went down the four steps to the well and I was looking into it, and I saw a little fish no longer than your finger coming from a stone under the water. Three spots it had on the one side and three on the other side, red spots and a little green with the red, and it was very civil coming hither to me and very pleasant wagging its tail. And it stopped and looked up at me and gave three wags of its back, and walked off again and went under the stone."And I said to a woman what was near me that I saw the little fish, and she began to call out and to say there were many coming with cars and with horses for a month past and none of them saw it at all. And she proved me, asking had it spots, and I said it had, tree on the one side and three on the other side. That is it she said. And within three days I had the sight of my eye again. It was surely Saint Brigit I saw that time; who else would it be? And you would know by the look of it that it was no common fish. Very civil it was, and nice and loughy, and no one else saw it at all. Did I say more prayers than the rest? Not a prayer. I was young in those days. I suppose she took a liking to me, maybe because of my name being Brigit the same as her own." 190. The Boy that Dreamed He Would Get His Health: There was a beggar boy used to be in Burren, that was very simple like and had no health, and if he would walk as much as a few perches it is likely he would fall on the road. And he dreamed twice that he went to Saint Brigit's blessed well upon the cliffs and that he found his health there. So he set out to go to the well, and when he came to it he fell in and he was drowned. Very simple he was and innocent and without sin. It is likely it is in heaven he is at this time. 191. The Water of the Well: And there is a woman in Burren now is grateful to Saint Brigit, for "I brought my little girl that was not four years old " she says " to saint Brigit's well on the cliffs, where she was ailing and pining away. I brought her as far as the doctors in Gort and they could do nothing for her and then I promised to go to Saint Brigit's well, and from the time I made that promise she got better. And I saw the little fish when I brought her there; and she grew to be as strong a girl as ever went to America. I made a promise to go to the well ever year after that, and so I do, of a Garlic Sunday, that is the last Sunday in July. And I brought a bottle of water from it last year and it is as cold as amber yet" 192. The Binding: And when the people are covering up a red sod under the ashes in the night time to spare the seed of the fire for the morning, they think upon brigit the fiery Arrow and it is what they do be saying:"I save this fire as Christ saved every one; Brigit beneath it, the Son of Mary within it; let the three angels having most power in the court of grace be keeping this house and the people of this house and sheltering them until the dawn of day." For it is what Brigit had a mind for; lasting goodness that was not hidden;minding sheep and rising early; hospitality towards good men. It is she keeps everyone that is in straits and in dangers; it is she puts down sickeness; it is she quiets the voice of the waves and the anger of the great sea. She is the queen of the south; she is the mother of the flocks; she is the Mary of the Gael.