University of California • Berkeley 
 
 PAULINE FORE MOFFITT LIBRAJIY 
 
J7 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
THE CHILDREN'S LIBRARY, 
 
 THE BROWN OWL. 
 
 A CHINA CUP, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND. 
 THE LITTLE PRINCESS. 
 THE STORY OF A PUPPET. 
 TALES FROM THE MABINOGION. 
 IRISH FAIRY TALES. 
 
 (Others in the Press.) 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 witii funding from 
 
 IVIicrQsoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fairytalesirisliOOyeatriGli 
 
'PLAYING AWAY ON THE PIPES AS MERRILY AS IF 
 
 NOTHING HAD HAPPENED." [Pa£-e 48. 
 
IRISH 
 FAIRY TALES 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 W. B. YEATS 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN,' ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY JACK B, YEATS 
 
 LONDON 
 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 1892 
 
WHERE MY BOOKS GO, 
 
 All the words that I gather^ 
 
 And all the words that I write ^ 
 Must spread out their wings untiring^ 
 
 And never rest in their flighty 
 Till they come where your sad, sad 
 heart is, 
 
 And sing to you in the night, 
 Beyond where the waters are 7noving, 
 
 Storm darkened or starry bright. 
 
 W, B, Yeats, 
 London, January i8()2. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 LAND AND WATER FAIRIES 
 
 
 The Fairies' Dancing-Place 
 
 13 
 
 The Rival Kempers . 
 
 17 
 
 The Young Piper 
 
 32 
 
 A Fairy Enchantment 
 
 49 
 
 Teigue of the Lee . 
 
 53 
 
 The Fairy Greyhound 
 
 69 
 
 The Lady of Gollerus 
 
 n 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 EVIL SPIRITS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Devil's Mill . . -95 
 
 Fergus O'Mara and the Air- 
 
 DeMONS . . . .112 
 
 The Man who never knew Fear . 123 
 
 CATS 
 Seanchan the Bard and the King 
 
 OF THE Cats . . .141 
 
 OwNEY and Owney-na-Peak . 151 
 
 KINGS AND WARRIORS 
 The Knighting of Cuculain . 185 
 The Little Weaver of Duleek 
 
 Gate . . . . i9S 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 Classification of Irish Fairies . 223 
 Authorities on Irish Folklore . 234 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 AN IRISH STORY-TELLER 
 
 AM often doubted when I 
 say that the Irish peasantry 
 still believe in fairies. 
 People think I am merely 
 trying to bring back a little of the 
 old dead beautiful world of romance 
 into this century of great engines and 
 spinning -jinnies. Surely the hum of 
 wheels and clatter of printing presses, to 
 let alone the lecturers with their black 
 coats and tumblers of water, have driven 
 away the goblin kingdom and made 
 silent the feet of the little dancers. 
 
 B 
 
2 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Old Biddy Hart at any rate does not 
 think so. Our bran-new opinions have 
 never been heard of under her brown- 
 thatched roof tufted with yellow stone- 
 crop. It is not so long since I sat by 
 the turf fire eating her griddle cake in 
 her cottage on the slope of Benbulben 
 and asking after her friends, the fairies, 
 who inhabit the green thorn -covered 
 hill up there behind her house. How 
 firmly she believed in them ! how 
 greatly she feared offending them ! For 
 a long time she would give me no 
 answer but *I always mind my own 
 affairs and they always mind theirs.' 
 A little talk about my great-grandfather 
 who lived all his life in the valley below, 
 and a few words to remind her how I 
 myself was often under her roof when 
 but seven or eight years old loosened 
 her tongue, however. It would be less 
 dangerous at any rate to talk to me of 
 the fairies than it would be to tell some 
 ^ Towrow ' of them, as she contemptu- 
 ously called English tourists, for I had 
 
INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 lived under the shadow of their own 
 hillsides. She did not forget, however, 
 to remind me to say after we had 
 finished, ' God bless them, Thursday ' 
 (that being the day), and so ward off 
 their displeasure, in case they were 
 angry at our notice, for they love to 
 live and dance unknown of men. 
 
 Once started, she talked on freely 
 enough, her face glowing in the firelight 
 as she bent over the griddle or stirred 
 the turf, and told how such a one was 
 stolen away from near Coloney village 
 and made to live seven years among 
 * the gentry,' as she calls the fairies for 
 politeness' sake, and how when she 
 came home she had no toes, for she 
 had danced them off; and how such 
 another was taken from the neighbour- 
 ing village of Grange and compelled to 
 nurse the child of the queen of the 
 fairies a few months before I came. 
 Her news about the creatures is always 
 quite matter-of-fact and detailed, just 
 as if she dealt with any common occur- 
 
4 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 rence : the late fair, or the dance at 
 Rosses last year, when a bottle of whisky 
 was given to the best man, and a cake 
 tied up in ribbons to the best woman 
 dancer. They are, to her, people not so 
 different from herself, only grander and 
 finer in every way. They have the most 
 beautiful parlours and drawing-rooms, 
 she would tell you, as an old man told 
 me once. She has endowed them with 
 all she knows of splendour, although 
 that is not such a great deal, for her 
 imagination is easily pleased. What 
 does not seem to us so very wonderful 
 is wonderful to her, there, where all is 
 so homely under her wood rafters and 
 her thatched ceiling covered with white- 
 washed canvas. We have pictures and 
 books to help us imagine a splendid 
 fairy world of gold and silver, of 
 crowns and marvellous draperies ; but 
 she has only that little picture of St. 
 Patrick over the fireplace, the bright- 
 coloured crockery on the dresser, and 
 the sheet of ballads stuffed by her 
 
INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 young daughter behind the stone dog 
 on the mantelpiece. Is it strange, then, 
 if her fairies have not the fantastic 
 glories of the fairies you and I are 
 wont to see in picture-books and read 
 of in stories? She will tell you of 
 peasants who met the fairy cavalcade 
 and thought it but a troop of peasants 
 like themselves until it vanished into 
 shadow and night, and of great fairy 
 palaces that were mistaken, until they 
 melted away, for the country seats of 
 rich gentlemen. 
 
 Her views of heaven itself have the 
 same homeliness, and she would be 
 quite as naive about its personages if 
 the chance offered as was the pious 
 Clondalkin laundress who told a friend 
 of mine that she had seen a vision of 
 St. Joseph, and that he had 'a lovely 
 shining hat upon him and a shirt- 
 buzzom that was never starched in 
 this world.' She would have mixed 
 some quaint poetry with it, however; 
 for there is a world of difference 
 
6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 between Benbulben and Dublinised 
 Clondalkin. 
 
 Heaven and Fairyland — to these has 
 Biddy Hart given all she dreams of 
 magnificence, and to them her soul 
 goes out — to the one in love and 
 hope, to the other in love and fear — 
 day after day and season after season ; 
 saints and angels, fairies and witches, 
 haunted thorn-trees and holy wells, are 
 to her what books, and plays, and 
 pictures are to you and me. Indeed 
 they are far more ; for too many among 
 us grow prosaic and commonplace, but 
 she keeps ever a heart full of music. 
 * I stand here in the doorway,' she said 
 once to me on a fine day, * and look at 
 the mountain and think of the good- 
 ness of God ' ; and when she talks of 
 the fairies I have noticed a touch of 
 tenderness in her voice. She loves 
 them because they are always young, 
 always making festival, always far off 
 from the old age that is coming upon 
 her and filling her bones with aches. 
 
INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 and because, too, they are so like little 
 children. 
 
 Do you think the Irish peasant would 
 be so full of poetry if he had not his 
 fairies ? Do you think the peasant girls 
 of Donegal, when they are going to 
 service inland, would kneel down as 
 they do and kiss the sea with their lips 
 if both sea and land were not made 
 lovable to them by beautiful legends 
 and wild sad stories ? Do you think 
 the old men would take life so cheerily 
 and mutter their proverb, * The lake is 
 not burdened by its swan, the steed by 
 its bridle, or a man by the soul that is 
 in him,' if the multitude of spirits were 
 not near them ? 
 
 W. B. Yeats. 
 
 Clondalkin, 
 July 1891. 
 
NOTE 
 
 HAVE to thank Lady Wilde 
 for leave to give * Seanchan 
 the Bard * from her Ancient 
 Legends of Ireland (Ward 
 and Downey), the most poetical and 
 ample collection of Irish folk-lore 
 yet published; Mr. Standish O'Grady 
 for leave to give * The Knighting of 
 Cuculain* from that prose epic he 
 has curiously named History of Ire- 
 landy Heroic Period \ Professor Joyce 
 for his 'Fergus O'Mara and the Air 
 Demons ' ; and Mr. Douglas Hyde for 
 his unpublished story, * The Man who 
 never knew Fear.* 
 
NOTE 9 
 
 I have included no story that has 
 already appeared in my Fairy and 
 Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry 
 (Camelot Series). 
 
 The two volumes make, I believe, 
 a fairly representative collection of 
 Irish folk tales. 
 
LAND AND WATER 
 FAIRIES 
 
THE FAIRIES* DANCING- 
 PLACE 
 
 By William Carleton 
 
 ^NTY 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 re- 
 solved 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 warned against this; but 
 
14 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 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 neigh- 
 bours 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 
 whisky, 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 strain- 
 ing 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 
 
THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE 15 
 
 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 
 to-morrow 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 exulta- 
 tion, there was a brisk rushing noise, 
 and they were heard no more. 
 
i6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 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 play- 
 ground, he became a richer man than 
 ever he otherwise would have been, 
 had he never come in contact with 
 them at all. 
 
 ^ Kam — a metal vessel in which the peasantry 
 dip rushlights. 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPERS 
 
 By William Carleton 
 
 N the north of Ireland there 
 are spinning meetings of un- 
 married females frequently 
 held at the houses of farm- 
 ers, called kemps. Every young woman 
 who has got the reputation of being 
 a quick and expert spinner attends 
 where the kemp is to be held, at an 
 hour usually before daylight, and on 
 these occasions she is accompanied by 
 her sweetheart or some male relative, 
 who carries her wheel, and conducts 
 her safely across the fields or along 
 the road, as the case may be. A 
 c 
 
i8 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 kemp is, indeed, an animated and 
 joyous scene, and one, besides, which 
 is calculated to promote industry and 
 decent pride. Scarcely anything can 
 be more cheering and agreeable than 
 to hear at a distance, breaking the 
 silence of morning, the light-hearted 
 voices of many girls either in mirth 
 or song, the humming sound of the 
 busy wheels — jarred upon a little, it 
 is true, by the stridulous noise and 
 checkings of the reels, and the voices 
 of the reelers, as they call aloud the 
 checks, together with the name of the 
 girl and the quantity she has spun up 
 to that period; for the contest is 
 generally commenced two or three 
 hours before daybreak. This mirthful 
 spirit is also sustained by the prospect 
 of a dance — with which, by the way, 
 every kemp closes ; and when the fair 
 victor is declared, she is to be looked 
 upon as the queen of the meeting, 
 and treated with the necessary respect. 
 But to our tale. Every one knew 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPER S 19 
 
 Shaun Buie M'Gaveran to be the 
 cleanest, best-conducted boy, and the 
 most industrious too, in the whole 
 parish of Faugh-a-ballagh. Hard was 
 it to find a young fellow who could 
 handle a flail, spade, or reaping-hook 
 in better style, or who could go through 
 his day's work in a more creditable or 
 workmanlike manner. In addition to 
 this, he was a fine, well-built, handsome 
 young man as you could meet in a 
 fair; and so, sign was on it, maybe 
 the pretty girls weren't likely to pull 
 each other's caps about him. Shaun, 
 however, was as prudent as he was 
 good-looking ; and although he wanted 
 a wife, yet the sorrow one of him but 
 preferred taking a well -handed, smart 
 girl, who was known to be well-behaved 
 and industrious, like himself. Here, 
 however, was where the puzzle lay on 
 him; for instead of one girl of that 
 kind, there were in the neighbourhood 
 no less than a dozen of them — all 
 equally fit and willing to become his 
 
20 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 wife, and all equally good-looking. 
 There were two, however, whom he 
 thought a trifle above the rest ; but so 
 nicely balanced were Biddy Corrigan 
 and Sally Gorman, that for the life of 
 him he could not make up his mind 
 to decide between them. Each of 
 them had won her kemp ; and it was 
 currently said by them who ought to 
 know, that neither of them could over- 
 match the other. No two girls in the 
 parish were better respected, or deserved 
 to be so; and the consequence was, 
 they had every one's good word and 
 good wish. Now it so happened that 
 Shaun had been pulling a cord with 
 each; and as he knew not how to 
 decide between, he thought he would 
 allow them to do that themselves if 
 they could. He accordingly gave out 
 to the neighbours that he would hold 
 a kemp on that day week, and he told 
 Biddy and Sally especially that he had 
 made up his mind to marry whichever 
 of them won the kemp, for he knew 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPERS 21 
 
 right well, as did all the parish, that 
 one of them must. The girls agreed 
 to this very good-humouredly, Biddy 
 telling Sally that she (Sally) would 
 surely win it ; and Sally, not to be 
 outdone in civility, telling the same 
 thing to her. 
 
 Well, the week was nearly past, there 
 being but two days till that of the 
 kemp, when, about three o'clock, there 
 walks into the house of old Paddy 
 Corrigan a little woman dressed in 
 high -heeled shoes and a short red 
 cloak. There was no one in the house 
 but Biddy at the time, who rose up 
 and placed a chair near the fire, and 
 asked the little red woman to sit down 
 and rest herself. She accordingly did 
 so, and in a short time a lively chat 
 commenced between them. 
 
 * So, 'said the strange woman, there's 
 to be a great kemp in Shaun Buie 
 M'Gaveran's?' 
 
 ' Indeed there is that, good woman,' 
 replied Biddy, smiling and blushing to 
 
22 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 back of that again, because she knew 
 her own fate depended on it. 
 
 *And,' continued the Httle woman, 
 * whoever wins the kemp wins a 
 husband ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, so it seems.' 
 
 *Well, whoever gets Shaun will be 
 a happy woman, for he*s the moral 
 of a good boy.' 
 
 * That's nothing but the truth, any- 
 how,' replied Biddy, sighing, for fear, 
 you may be sure, that she herself 
 might lose him; and indeed a young 
 woman might sigh from many a worse 
 reason. *But,' said she, changing the 
 subject, *you appear to be tired, honest 
 woman, an' I think you had better eat 
 a bit, an' take a good drink of hiinnhe 
 ramwher (thick milk) to help you on 
 your journey.' 
 
 * Thank you kindly, a colleen,' said 
 the woman ; * I'll take a bit, if you plase, 
 hopin', at the same time, that you won't be 
 the poorer of it this day twelve months,' 
 
 *Sure,' said the girl, *you know 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPERS 23 
 
 that what we give from kindness ever 
 an' always leaves a blessing behind it. * 
 
 * Yes, acushla, when it is given from 
 kindness.' 
 
 She accordingly helped herself to 
 the food that Biddy placed before her, 
 and appeared, after eating, to be very 
 much refreshed. 
 
 *Now,' said she, rising up, * you're 
 a very good girl, an' if you are able 
 to find out my name before Tuesday 
 morning, the kemp-day, I tell you that 
 you'll win it, and gain the husband.' 
 
 * Why,' said Biddy, * I never saw you 
 before. I don't know who you are, 
 nor where you live; how then can I 
 ever find out your name ? ' 
 
 '^You never saw me before, sure 
 enough,' said the old woman, *an' I 
 tell you that you never will see me 
 again but once ; an' yet if you have 
 not my name for me at the close of 
 the kemp, you'll lose all, an' that will 
 leave you a sore heart, for well I know 
 you love Shaun Buie.' 
 
24 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 So saying, she went away, and left 
 poor Biddy quite cast down at what 
 she had said, for, to tell the truth, she 
 loved Shaun very much, and had no 
 hopes of being able to find out the 
 name of the little woman, on which, 
 it appeared, so much to her depended. 
 
 It was very near the same hour of 
 the same day that Sally Gorman was 
 sitting alone in her father's house, 
 thinking of the kemp, when who 
 should walk in to her but our friend 
 the little red woman. 
 
 * God save you, honest woman,' said 
 Sally, *this is a fine day that's in it, 
 the Lord be praised ! ' 
 
 *It is,' said the woman, *as fine 
 a day as one could wish for : indeed 
 it is.' 
 
 * Have you no news on your travels ? ' 
 asked Sally. 
 
 ^ The only news in the neighbour- 
 hood,' replied the other, * is this great 
 kemp that's to take place at Shaun 
 Buie M^Gaveran's. They say you're 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPER S 25 
 
 either to win him or lose him then,' 
 she added, looking closely at Sally as 
 she spoke. 
 
 ' Fm not very much afraid of that,' 
 said Sally, with confidence ; * but even 
 if I do lose him, I may get as good.' 
 
 ^ It's not easy gettin' as good,' 
 rejoined the old woman, *an' you 
 ought to be very glad to win him, if 
 you can.' 
 
 * Let me alone for that,' said Sally. 
 ^Biddy's a good girl, I allow; but as 
 for spinnin', she never saw the day 
 she could leave me behind her. Won't 
 you sit an' rest you?' she added; 
 * maybe you're tired.' 
 
 *It's time for you to think of it,' 
 thought the woman, but she spoke 
 nothing: *but,' she added to herself 
 on reflection, *it's better late than 
 never — I'll sit awhile, till I see a little 
 closer what she's made of 
 
 She accordingly sat down and chatted 
 upon several subjects, such as young 
 women like to talk about, for about 
 
26 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 half an hour; after which she arose, 
 and taking her Httle staff in hand, she 
 bade Sally good-bye, and went her 
 way. After passing a little from the 
 house she looked back, and could not 
 help speaking to herself as follows : 
 
 * She's smooth and smart, 
 But she wants the heart ; 
 She's tight and neat, 
 But she gave no meat.' 
 
 Poor Biddy now made all possible 
 inquiries about the old woman, but to 
 no purpose. Not a soul she spoke to 
 about her had ever seen or heard of 
 such a woman. She felt very dispirited, 
 and began to lose heart, for there is 
 no doubt that if she missed Shaun it 
 would have cost her many a sorrowful 
 day. She knew she would never get 
 his equal, or at least any one that she 
 loved so well. At last the kemp day 
 came, and with it all the pretty girls 
 of the neighbourhood to Shaun Buie's. 
 Among the rest, the two that were to 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPERS 27 
 
 decide their right to him were doubt- 
 less the handsomest pair by far, and 
 every one admired them. To be sure, 
 it was a blythe and merry place, and 
 many a light laugh and sweet song 
 rang out from pretty lips that day. 
 Biddy and Sally, as every one expected, 
 were far ahead of the rest, but so even 
 in their spinning that the reelers could 
 not for the life of them declare which 
 was the better. It was neck-and-neck 
 and head-and-head between the pretty 
 creatures, and all who were at the 
 kemp felt themselves wound up to the 
 highest pitch of interest and curiosity 
 to know which of them would be 
 successful. 
 
 The day was now more than half 
 gone, and no dififerenee was between 
 them, when, to the surprise and sorrow 
 of every one present, Biddy Corrigan's 
 heck broke in two, and so to all appear- 
 ance ended the contest in favour of 
 her rival; and what added to her 
 mortification, she was as ignorant of 
 
28 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 the red little woman's name as ever. 
 What was to be done ? All that could 
 be done was done. Her brother, a 
 boy of about fourteen years of age, 
 happened to be present when the 
 accident took place, having been sent 
 by his father and mother to bring them 
 word how the match went on between 
 the rival spinsters. Johnny Corrigan 
 was accordingly despatched with all 
 speed to Donnel M^Cusker's, the 
 wheelwright, in order to get the heck 
 mended, that being Biddy's last but 
 hopeless chance. Johnny's anxiety 
 that his sister should win was of 
 course very great, and in order to lose 
 as little time as possible he struck 
 across the country, passing through, 
 or rather close by, Kilrudden forth, a 
 place celebrated as a resort of the 
 fairies. What was his astonishment, 
 however, as he passed a white -thorn 
 tree, to hear a female voice singing, 
 in accompaniment to the sound of a 
 spinning-wheel, the following words : 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPERS 29 
 
 * There's a girl in this town doesn't know my 
 
 name; 
 But my name's Even Trot — Even Trot.' 
 
 * There's a girl in this town/ said 
 the lad, * who's in great distress, for 
 she has broken her heck, and lost a 
 husband. I'm now goin' to Donnel 
 M*Cusker's to get it mended.' 
 
 'What's her name?' said the little 
 red woman. 
 
 * Biddy Corrigan.' 
 
 The little woman immediately 
 whipped out the heck from her own 
 wheel, and giving it to the boy, desired 
 him to take it to his sister, and never 
 mind Donnel M^Cusker. 
 
 *You have little time to lose,' she 
 added, * so go back and give her this ; 
 but don't tell her how you got it, nor, 
 above all things, that it was Even Trot 
 that gave it to you.' 
 
 The lad returned, and after giving 
 the heck to his sister, as a matter of 
 course told her that it was a little red 
 woman called Even Trot that sent it 
 
30 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 to her, a circumstance which made 
 tears of delight start to Biddy's eyes, 
 for she knew now that Even Trot was 
 the name of the old woman, and 
 having known that, she felt that some- 
 thing good would happen to her. She 
 now resumed her spinning, and never 
 did human fingers let down the thread 
 so rapidly. The whole kemp were 
 amazed at the quantity which from 
 time to time filled her pirn. The 
 hearts of her friends began to rise, and 
 those of Sally's party to sink, as hour 
 after hour she was fast approaching her 
 rival, who now spun if possible with 
 double speed on finding Biddy coming 
 up with her. At length they were 
 again even, and just at that moment 
 in came her friend the little red 
 woman, and asked aloud, *Is there 
 any one in this kemp that knows 
 my name?' This question she asked 
 three times before Biddy could pluck 
 up courage to answer her. She at 
 last said, 
 
THE RIVAL KEMPERS 31 
 
 ' There's a girl in this town does know your 
 
 name — 
 Your name is Even Trot — Even Trot. ' 
 
 *Ay,' said the old woman, *and so 
 it is ; and let that name be your guide 
 and your husband's through life. Go 
 steadily along, but let your step be 
 even ; stop little \ keep always advanc- 
 ing; and you'll never have cause to 
 rue the day that you first saw Even 
 Trot.' 
 
 We need scarcely add that Biddy 
 won the kemp and the husband, and 
 that she and Shaun lived long and 
 happily together ; and I have only now 
 to wish, kind reader, that you and I 
 may live longer and more happily still. 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 
 By Crofton Croker 
 
 (HERE lived not long since, 
 on the borders of the 
 county Tipperary, a decent 
 honest couple, whose names 
 were Mick Flannigan and Judy Mul- 
 doon. These poor people were blessed, 
 as the saying is, with four children, all 
 boys : three of them were as fine, stout, 
 healthy, good-looking children as ever 
 the sun shone upon ; and it was enough 
 to make any Irishman proud of the 
 breed of his countrymen to see them 
 about one o'clock on a fine summer's 
 day standing at their father's cabin 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 33 
 
 door, with their beautiful flaxen hair 
 hanging in curls about their head, and 
 their cheeks like two rosy apples, and 
 a big laughing potato smoking in their 
 hand. A proud man was Mick of 
 these fine children, and a proud woman, 
 too, was Judy; and reason enough 
 they had to be so. But it was far 
 otherwise with the remaining one, 
 which was the third eldest : he was 
 the most miserable, ugly, ill-conditioned 
 brat that ever God put life into; he 
 was so ill-thriven that he never was able 
 to stand alone, or to leave his cradle ; 
 he had long, shaggy, matted, curled 
 hair, as black as the soot; his face 
 was of a greenish -yellow colour; his 
 eyes were like two burning coals, and 
 were for ever moving in his head, as if 
 they had the perpetual motion. Be- 
 fore he was a twelvemonth old he had 
 a mouth full of great teeth ; his hands 
 were like kites' claws, and his legs were 
 no thicker than the handle of a whip, 
 and about as straight as a reaping- 
 
 D 
 
34 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 hook : to make the matter worse, he 
 had the appetite of a cormorant, and 
 the whinge, and the yelp, and the 
 screech, and the yowl, was never out 
 of his mouth. 
 
 The neighbours all suspected that 
 he was something not right, particu- 
 larly as it was observed, when people, 
 as they do in the country, got about 
 the fire, and began to talk of religion 
 and good things, the brat, as he lay 
 in the cradle, which his mother generally 
 put near the fireplace that he might 
 be snug, used to sit up, as they were 
 in the middle of their talk, and begin 
 to bellow as if the devil was in him in 
 right earnest ; this, as I said, led the 
 neighbours to think that all was not 
 right, and there was a general consul- 
 tation held one day about what would 
 be best to do with him. Some advised 
 to put him out on the shovel, but 
 Judy's pride was up at that. A pretty 
 thing indeed, that a child of hers 
 should be put on r. shovel and flung 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 35 
 
 out on the dunghill just like a dead 
 kitten or a poisoned rat; no, no, she 
 would not hear to that at all. One 
 old woman, who was considered very 
 skilful and knowing in fairy matters, 
 strongly recommended her to put the 
 tongs in the fire, and heat them red 
 hot, and to take his nose in them, and 
 that would beyond all manner of doubt 
 make him tell what he was and where 
 he came from (for the general suspicion 
 was, that he had been changed by the 
 good people) ; but Judy was too soft- 
 hearted, and too fond of the imp, so 
 she would not give in to this plan, 
 though everybody said she was wrong, 
 and maybe she was, but it's hard to 
 blame a mother. Well, some advised 
 one thing, and some another; at last 
 one spoke of sending for the priest, 
 who was a very holy and a very learned 
 man, to see it. To this Judy of 
 course had no objection ; but one 
 thing or other always prevented her 
 doing so, and the upshot of the 
 
36 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 business was that the priest never saw 
 him. 
 
 Things went on in the old way for 
 some time longer. The brat continued 
 yelping and yowling, and eating more 
 than his three brothers put together, 
 and playing all sorts of unlucky tricks, 
 for he was mighty mischievously in- 
 clined, till it happened one day that 
 Tim Carrol, the blind piper, going his 
 rounds, called in and sat down by the 
 fire to have a bit of chat with the 
 woman of the house. So after some 
 time Tim, who was no churl of his 
 music, yoked on the pipes, and began 
 to bellows away in high style; when 
 the instant he began, the young fellow, 
 who had been lying as still as a mouse 
 in his cradle, sat up, began to grin and 
 twist his ugly face, to swing about his 
 long tawny arms, and to kick out his 
 crooked legs, and to show signs of 
 great glee at the music. At last 
 nothing would serve him but he should 
 get the pipes into his own hands, and 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 37 
 
 to humour him his mother asked Tim 
 to lend them to the child for a minute. 
 Tim, who was kind to children, readily 
 consented; and as Tim had not his 
 sight, Judy herself brought them to 
 the cradle, and went to put them on 
 him; but she had no occasion, for 
 the youth seemed quite up to the 
 business. He buckled on the pipes, 
 set the bellows under one arm, and the 
 bag under the other, worked them both 
 as knowingly as if he had been twenty 
 years at the business, and hlted up 
 *Sheela na guira' in the finest style 
 imaginable. 
 
 All were in astonishment : the poor 
 woman crossed herself. Tim, who, 
 as I said before, was dark^ and did 
 not well know who was playing, was 
 in great delight; and when he heard 
 that it was a little prechan not five 
 years old, that had never seen a set of 
 pipes in his life, he wished the mother 
 joy of hei son ; offered to take him off 
 her hands if she would part with him, 
 
38 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 swore he was a born piper, a natural 
 genus^ and declared that in a little time 
 more, with the help of a little good 
 instruction from himself, there would 
 not be his match in the whole country. 
 The poor woman was greatly delighted 
 to hear all this, particularly as what 
 Tim said about natural genus quieted 
 some misgivings that were rising in 
 her mind, lest what the neighbours 
 said about his not being right might 
 be too true ; and it gratified her more- 
 over to think that her dear child (for 
 she really loved the whelp) would not 
 be forced to turn out and beg, but 
 might earn decent bread for himself. 
 So when Mick came home in the 
 evening from his work, she up and 
 told him all that had happened, and 
 all that Tim Carrol had said; and 
 Mick, as was natural, was very glad 
 to hear it, for the helpless condition of 
 the poor creature was a great trouble 
 to him. So next day he took the pig 
 to the fair, and with what it brought 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 39 
 
 set off to Clonmel, and bespoke a 
 bran-new set of pipes, of the proper 
 size for him. 
 
 In about a fortnight the pipes came 
 home, and the moment the chap in 
 his cradle laid eyes on them he squealed 
 with delight and threw up his pretty 
 legs, and bumped himself in his cradle, 
 and went on with a great many comical 
 tricks; till at last, to quiet him, they 
 gave him the pipes, and he immediately 
 set to and pulled away at * Jig Polthog,' 
 to the admiration of all who heard him. 
 
 The fame of his skill on the pipes 
 soon spread far and near, for there 
 was not a piper in the six next counties 
 could come at all near him, in *01d 
 Moderagh rue,' or *The Hare in the 
 Corn,' or *The Fox-hunter's Jig,' or 
 ' The Rakes of Cashel,' or ' The Piper's 
 Maggot,' or any of the fine Irish jigs 
 which make people dance whether 
 they will or no : and it was surprising 
 to hear him rattle away *The Fox- 
 hunt'; you'd really think you heard 
 
40 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 the hounds giving tongue, and the 
 terriers yelping always behind, and 
 the huntsman and the whippers-in 
 cheering or correcting the dogs ; it 
 was, in short, the very next thing to 
 seeing the hunt itself. 
 
 The best of him was, he was noways 
 stingy of his music, and many a merry 
 dance the boys and girls of the 
 neighbourhood used to have in his 
 father's cabin ; and he would play up 
 music for them, that they said used 
 as it were to put quicksilver in their 
 feet ; and they all declared they never 
 moved so light and so airy to any 
 piper's playing that ever they danced 
 to. 
 
 But besides all his fine Irish music, 
 he had one queer tune of his own, 
 the oddest that ever was heard; for 
 the moment he began to play it every- 
 thing in the house seemed disposed to 
 dance ; the plates and porringers used 
 to jingle on the dresser, the pots and 
 pot-hooks used to rattle in the chimney, 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 41 
 
 and people used even to fancy they 
 felt the stools moving from under 
 them ; but, however it might be with 
 the stools, it is certain that no one 
 could keep long sitting on them, for 
 both old and young always fell to 
 capering as hard as ever they could. 
 The girls complained that when he 
 began this tune it always threw them 
 out in their dancing, and that they 
 never could handle their feet rightly, 
 for they felt the floor like ice under 
 them, and themselves every moment 
 ready to come sprawling on their 
 backs or their faces. The young 
 bachelors who wished to show off their 
 dancing and their new pumps, and 
 their bright red or green and yellow 
 garters, swore that it confused them so 
 that they never could go rightly through 
 the heel and toe or cover the buckle^ or 
 any of their best steps, but felt them- 
 selves always all bedizzied and be- 
 wildered, and then old and young 
 would go jostling and knocking to- 
 
42 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 gether in a frightful manner; and 
 when the unlucky brat had them all 
 in this way, whirligigging about the 
 floor, he'd grin and chuckle and chatter, 
 for all the world like Jacko the monkey 
 when he has played off some of his 
 roguery. 
 
 The older he grew the worse he 
 grew, and by the time he was six years 
 old there was no standing the house 
 for him; he was always making his 
 brothers burn or scald themselves, or 
 break their shins over the pots and 
 stools. One time, in harvest, he was 
 left at home by himself, and when his 
 mother came in she found the cat 
 a-horseback on the dog, with her face to 
 the tail, and her legs tied round him, 
 and the urchin playing his queer tune 
 to them ; so that the dog went barking 
 and jumping about, and puss was 
 mewing for the dear life, and slapping 
 her tail backwards and forwards, which, 
 as it would hit against the dog's chaps, 
 he'd snap at and bite, and then there 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 43 
 
 was the philliloo. Another time, the 
 farmer with whom Mick worked, a very 
 decent, respectable man, happened to 
 call in, and Judy wiped a stool with 
 her apron, and invited him to sit 
 down and rest himself after- his walk. 
 He was sitting with his back to the 
 cradle, and behind him was a pan of 
 blood, for Judy was making pig's 
 puddings. The lad lay quite still in 
 his nest, and watched his opportunity 
 till he got ready a hook at the end of 
 a piece of twine, which he contrived to 
 fling so handily that it caught in the 
 bob of the man's nice new wig, and 
 soused it in the pan of blood. Another 
 time his mother was coming in from 
 milking the cow, with the pail on her 
 head : the minute he saw her he 
 lilted up his infernal tune, and the 
 poor woman, letting go the pail, 
 clapped her hands aside, and began to 
 dance a jig, and tumbled the milk all 
 a-top of her husband, who was bringing 
 in some turf to boil the supper. In 
 
44 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 short, there would be no end to telling 
 all his pranks, and all the mischievous 
 tricks he played. 
 
 Soon after, some mischances began 
 to happen to the farmer's cattle. A 
 horse took the staggers, a fine veal calf 
 died of the black-leg, and some of his 
 sheep of the red-water ; the cows began 
 to grow vicious, and to kick down the 
 milk-pails, and the roof of one end of 
 the barn fell in ; and the farmer took 
 it into his head that Mick Flannigan's 
 unlucky child was the cause of all the 
 mischief. So one day he called Mick 
 aside, and said to him, * Mick, you see 
 things are not going on with me as 
 they ought, and to be plain with you, 
 Mick, I think that child of yours is the 
 cause of it. I am really falling away 
 to nothing with fretting, and I can 
 hardly sleep on my bed at night for 
 thinking of what may happen before 
 the morning. So Td be glad if you'd 
 look out for work somewhere else; 
 you're as good a man as any in the 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 45 
 
 country, and there's no fear but you'll 
 have your choice of work.' To this 
 Mick replied, 'that he was sorry for 
 his losses, and still sorrier that he 
 or his should be thought to be 
 the cause of them ; that for his own 
 part he was not quite easy in his 
 mind about that child, but he had 
 him and so must keep him ' ; and he 
 promised to look out for another place 
 immediately. 
 
 Accordingly, next Sunday at chapel 
 Mick gave out that he was about 
 leaving the work at John Riordan's, 
 and immediately a farmer who lived a 
 couple of miles off, and who wanted a 
 ploughman (the last one having just 
 left him), came up to Mick, and offered 
 him a house and garden, and work all 
 the year round. Mick, who knew him 
 to be a good employer, immediately 
 closed with him; so it was agreed 
 that the farmer should send a car ^ to 
 take his little bit of furniture, and that 
 ^ Car, a cart. 
 
46 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 he should remove on the following 
 Thursday. 
 
 When Thursday came, the car came 
 according to promise, and Mick loaded 
 it, and put the cradle with the child 
 and his pipes on the top, and Judy sat 
 beside it to take care of him, lest he 
 should tumble out and be killed. They 
 drove the cow before them, the dog 
 followed, but the cat was of course left 
 behind; and the other three children 
 went along the road picking skeehories 
 (haws) and blackberries, for it was a 
 fine day towards the latter end of 
 harvest. 
 
 They had to cross a river, but as it 
 ran through a bottom between two 
 high banks, you did not see it till 
 you were close on it. The young 
 fellow was lying pretty quiet in the 
 bottom of the cradle, till they came to 
 the head of the bridge, when hearing the 
 roaring of the water (for there was a 
 great flood in the river, as it had rained 
 heavily for the last two or three days). 
 
THE YOUNG PIPER 47 
 
 he sat up in his cradle and looked 
 about him ; and the instant he got a 
 sight of the water, and found they 
 were going to take him across it, oh, 
 how he did bellow and how he did 
 squeal ! no rat caught in a snap-trap 
 ever sang out equal to him. * Whist ! 
 A lanna,' said Judy, * there's no fear 
 of you ; sure it's only over the stone 
 bridge we're going.' — 'Bad luck to 
 you, you old rip ! ' cried he, ' what a 
 pretty trick you've played me to bring 
 me here ! ' and still went on yelling, 
 and the farther they got on the bridge 
 the louder he yelled ; till at last Mick 
 could hold out no longer, so giving 
 him a great skelp of the whip he had 
 in his hand, * Devil choke you, you 
 brat ! ' said he, * will you never stop 
 bawling ? a body can't hear their ears 
 for you.' The moment he felt the 
 thong of the whip he leaped up in the 
 cradle, clapped the pipes under his 
 arm, gave a most wicked grin at Mick, 
 and jumped clean over the battlements 
 
48 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 of the bridge down into the water. 
 * Oh, my child, my child ! ' shouted 
 Judy, *he's gone for ever from me/ 
 Mick and the rest of the children ran 
 to the other side of the bridge, and 
 looking over, they saw him coming out 
 from under the arch of the bridge, 
 sitting cross-legged on the top of a 
 white-headed wave, and playing away 
 on the pipes as merrily as if nothing 
 had happened. The river was running 
 very rapidly, so he was whirled away at 
 a great rate ; but he played as fast, ay, 
 and faster, than the river ran; and 
 though they set off as hard as they 
 could along the bank, yet, as the river 
 made a sudden turn round the hill, 
 about a hundred yards below the 
 bridge, by the time they got there he 
 was out of sight, and no one ever laid 
 eyes on him more; but the general 
 opinion was that he went home with 
 the pipes to his own relations, the good 
 people, to make music for them. 
 
A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT 
 
 Story-teller — Michael Hart 
 Recorder — W. B. Yeats 
 
 N 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 
 
 £ 
 
so IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 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 
 
A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT 51 
 
 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 
 
52 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 in a corpse and put it on the spit and 
 set me turning it/ * That will do/ says 
 he ; * you may go in there and lie down 
 on the bed/ And in I went, nothing 
 loath, and in the morning where was I 
 but in the middle of a green field. 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 
 
 By Crofton Croker 
 
 CAN'T stop in the house 
 — I won't stop in it for 
 all the money that is 
 buried in the old castle of 
 Carrigrohan. If ever there was such a 
 thing in the world I — to be abused to 
 my face night and day, and nobody to 
 the fore doing it ! and then, if I'm 
 angry, to be laughed at with a great 
 roaring ho, ho, ho ! I won't stay in 
 the house after to-night, if there was 
 not another place in the country to 
 put my head under.' This angry 
 sohloquy was pronounced in the hall 
 
54 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 of the old manor-house of Carrigrohan 
 by John Sheehan. John was a new 
 servant ; he had been only three days 
 in the house, which had the character 
 of being haunted, and in that short 
 space of time he had been abused and 
 laughed at by a voice which sounded 
 as if a man spoke with his head in a 
 cask ; nor could he discover who was 
 the speaker, or from whence the voice 
 came. * I'll not stop here,' said John ; 
 * and that ends the matter.' 
 
 * Ho, ho, ho ! be quiet, John 
 Sheehan, or else worse will happen to 
 you.' 
 
 John instantly ran to the hall 
 window, as the words were evidently 
 spoken by a person immediately out- 
 side, but no one was visible. He had 
 scarcely placed his face at the pane of 
 glass when he heard another loud * Ho, 
 ho, ho ! ' as if behind him in the hall ; 
 as quick as lightning he turned his 
 head, but no living thing was to be 
 seen. 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 55 
 
 * Ho, ho, ho, John ! ' shouted a 
 voice that appeared to come from the 
 lawn before the house : * do you think 
 you'll see Teigue ? — oh, never ! as long 
 as you live ! so leave alone looking 
 after him, and mind your business ; 
 there's plenty of company to dinner 
 from Cork to be here to-day, and 'tis 
 time you had the cloth laid.' 
 
 * Lord bless us ! there's more of it ! 
 — I'll never stay another day here,' 
 repeated John. 
 
 * Hold your tongue, and stay where 
 you are quietly, and play no tricks on 
 Mr. Pratt, as you did on Mr. Jervois 
 about the spoons.' 
 
 John Sheehan was confounded by 
 this address from his invisible perse- 
 cutor, but nevertheless he mustered 
 courage enough to say, * Who are you ? 
 come here, and let me see you, if you 
 are a man ' ; but he received in reply 
 only a laugh of unearthly derision, which 
 was followed by a * Good-bye — I'll 
 watch you at dinner, John ! ' 
 
56 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * Lord between us and harm ! this 
 beats all ! I'll watch you at dinner ! 
 maybe you will ! 'tis the broad day- 
 light, so 'tis no ghost; but this is a 
 terrible place, and this is the last day 
 I'll stay in it. How does he know 
 about the spoons ? if he tells it I'm a 
 ruined man ! there was no living soul 
 could tell it to him but Tim Barrett, 
 and he's far enough off in the wilds of 
 Botany Bay now, so how could he 
 know it ? I can't tell for the world ! 
 But what's that I see there at the 
 corner of the wall ! 'tis not a man ! oh, 
 what a fool I am ! 'tis only the old 
 stump of a tree ! But this is a shock- 
 ing place — I'll never stop in it, for I'll 
 leave the house to-morrow; the very 
 look of it is enough to frighten any 
 one.' 
 
 The mansion had certainly an air of 
 desolation ; it was situated in a lawn, 
 which had nothing to break its uniform 
 level save a few tufts of narcissuses 
 and a couple of old trees coeval with 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 57 
 
 the building. The house stood at a 
 short distance from the road, it was 
 upwards of a century old, and Time 
 was doing his work upon it ; its walls 
 were weather-stained in all colours, its 
 roof showed various white patches, it 
 had no look of comfort ; all was dim 
 and dingy without, and within there 
 was an air of gloom, of departed and 
 departing greatness, which harmonised 
 well with the exterior. It required all 
 the exuberance of youth and of gaiety 
 to remove the impression, almost 
 amounting to awe, with which you 
 trod the huge square hall, paced along 
 the gallery which surrounded the hall, 
 or explored the long rambling passages 
 below stairs. The ballroom, as the 
 large drawing-room was called, and 
 several other apartments, were in a 
 state of decay ; the walls were stained 
 with damp, and I remember well the 
 sensation of awe which I felt creeping 
 over me when, boy as I was, and full 
 of boyish life and wild and ardent 
 
58 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 spirits, I descended to the vaults; 
 all without and within me became 
 chilled beneath their dampness and 
 gloom — their extent, too, terrified me ; 
 nor could the merriment of my two 
 schoolfellows, whose father, a respect- 
 able clergyman, rented the dwelling 
 for a time, dispel the feelings of a 
 romantic imagination until I once 
 again ascended to the upper regions. 
 
 John had pretty well recovered him- 
 self as the dinner -hour approached, 
 and several guests arrived. They were 
 all seated at the table, and had begun 
 to enjoy the excellent repast, when a 
 voice was heard in the lawn. 
 
 * Ho, ho, ho ! Mr. Pratt, won't you 
 give poor Teigue some dinner? ho, 
 ho ! a fine company you have there, 
 and plenty of everything that's good ; 
 sure you won't forget poor Teigue ? ' 
 
 John dropped the glass he had in 
 his hand. 
 
 •Who is that?' said Mr. Pratt's 
 brother, an officer of the artillery. 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 59 
 
 *That is Teigue/ said Mr. Pratt, 
 laughing, * whom you must often have 
 heard me mention/ 
 
 *And pray, Mr. Pratt,' inquired 
 another gentleman, * who is Teigue ? ' 
 
 * That,' he replied, * is more than I 
 can tell. No one has ever been able 
 to catch even a glimpse of him. I 
 have been on the watch for a whole 
 evening with three of my sons, yet, 
 although his voice sometimes sounded 
 almost in my ear, I could not see him. 
 I fancied, indeed, that I saw a man 
 in a white frieze jacket pass into the 
 door from the garden to the lawn, but 
 it could be only fancy, for I found the 
 door locked, while the fellow, whoever 
 he is, was laughing at our trouble. 
 He visits us occasionally, and some- 
 times a long interval passes between 
 his visits, as in the present case ; it is 
 now nearly two years since we heard 
 that hollow voice outside the window. 
 He has never done any injury that we 
 know of, and once when he broke a 
 
6o IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 plate, he brought one back exactly 
 like it.' 
 
 * It is very extraordinary,' exclaimed 
 several of the company. 
 
 *But,' remarked a gentleman to 
 young Mr. Pratt, *your father said he 
 broke a plate ; how did he get it with- 
 out your seeing him ? ' 
 
 * When he asks for some dinner we 
 put it outside the window and go away ; 
 whilst we watch he will not take it, 
 but no sooner have we withdrawn 
 than it is gone.' 
 
 * How does he know that you are 
 watching ? ' 
 
 * That's more than I can tell, but he 
 either knows or suspects. One day 
 my brothers Robert and James with 
 myself were in our back parlour, which 
 has a window into the garden, when 
 he came outside and said, " Ho, ho, 
 ho ! Master James and Robert and 
 Henry, give poor Teigue a glass of 
 whisky." James went out of the room, 
 filled a glass with whisky, vinegar, and 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 6i 
 
 salt, and brought it to him. "Here, 
 Teigue," said he, " come for it now." — 
 " Well, put it down, then, on the step 
 outside the window." This was done, 
 and we stood looking at it. " There, 
 now, go away," he shouted. We re- 
 tired, but still watched it. " Ho, ho ! 
 you are watching Teigue ! go out of 
 the room, now, or I won't take it." We 
 went outside the door and returned, 
 the glass was gone, and a moment after 
 we heard him roaring and cursing 
 frightfully. He took away the glass, 
 but the next day it was on the stone 
 step under the window, and there were 
 crumbs of bread in the inside, as if he 
 had put it in his pocket ; from that 
 time he has not been heard till to-day.' 
 * Oh,' said the colonel, * I'll get a 
 sight of him ; you are not used to 
 these things; an old soldier has the 
 best chance, and as I shall finish my 
 dinner with this wing, I'll be ready for 
 him when he speaks next — Mr. Bell, 
 will you take a glass of wine with me ? ' 
 
62 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 ' Ho, ho ! Mr. Bell/ shouted Teigue. 
 * Ho, ho ! Mr. Bell, you were a Quaker 
 long ago. Ho, ho ! Mr. Bell, you're a 
 pretty boy ! a pretty Quaker you were ; 
 and now you're no Quaker, nor anything 
 else : ho, ho ! Mr. Bell. And there's 
 Mr. Parkes : to be sure, Mr. Parkes looks 
 mighty fine to-day, with his powdered 
 head, and his grand silk stockings and 
 his bran new rakish-red waistcoat. 
 And there's Mr. Cole : did you ever 
 see such a fellow ? A pretty company 
 you've brought together, Mr. Pratt : kiln- 
 dried Quakers, butter-buying buckeens 
 from Mallow Lane, and a drinking 
 exciseman from the Coal Quay, to meet 
 the great thundering artillery general 
 that is come out . of the Indies, and is 
 the biggest dust of them all.' 
 
 * You scoundrel ! ' exclaimed the 
 colonel, *I'll make you show your- 
 self; and snatching up his sword 
 from a corner of the room, he sprang 
 out of the window upon the lawn. In 
 a moment a shout of laughter, so hollow, 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 63 
 
 SO unlike any human sound, made 
 him stop, as well as Mr. Bell, who with 
 a huge oak stick was close at the 
 colonel's heels; others of the party 
 followed to the lawn, and the remainder 
 rose and went to the windows. * Come 
 on, coloneV said Mr. Bell ; ^ let us 
 catch this impudent rascal.' 
 
 * Ho, ho ! Mr. Bell, here I am — 
 here's Teigue — why don't you catch 
 him ? Ho, ho ! Colonel Pratt, what a 
 pretty soldier you are to draw your 
 sword upon poor Teigue, that never 
 did anybody harm.' 
 
 * Let us see your face, you scoundrel,' 
 said the colonel. 
 
 ^ Ho, ho, ho ! — look at me — look at 
 me : do you see the wind, Colonel 
 Pratt? you'll see Teigue as soon; so 
 go in and finish your dinner.' 
 
 *If you're upon the earth, I'll find 
 you, you villain 1 ' said the colonel, 
 whilst the same unearthly shout of 
 derision seemed to come from be- 
 hind an angle of the building. * He's 
 
64 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 round that corner/ said Mr. Bell, 
 *run, run.' 
 
 They followed the sound, which was 
 continued at intervals along the garden 
 wall, but could discover no human 
 being; at last both stopped to draw 
 breath, and in an instant, almost at 
 their ears, sounded the shout — 
 
 * Ho, ho, ho ! Colonel Pratt, do you 
 see Teigue now? do you hear him? 
 Ho, ho, ho ! you're a fine colonel to 
 follow the wind.' 
 
 *Not that way, Mr. Bell— not that 
 way ; come here,' said the colonel. 
 
 * Ho, ho, ho ! what a fool you are ; 
 do you think Teigue is going to show 
 himself to you in the field, there? 
 But, colonel, follow me if you can : 
 you a soldier ! ho, ho, ho ! ' The 
 colonel was enraged : he followed the 
 voice over hedge and ditch, alternately 
 laughed at and taunted by the unseen 
 object of his pursuit (Mr. Bell, who 
 was heavy, was soon thrown out) ; 
 until at length, after being led a weary 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 65 
 
 chase, he found himself at the top of 
 the cliff, over that part of the river Lee, 
 which, from its great depth, and the 
 blackness of its water, has received the 
 name of Hell -hole. Here, on the 
 edge of the cliff, stood the colonel out 
 of breath, and mopping his forehead 
 with his handkerchief, while the voice, 
 which seemed close at his feet, ex- 
 claimed, *Now, Colonel Pratt, now, if 
 you're a soldier, here's a leap for you ! 
 Now look at Teigue — ^why don't you 
 look at him ? Ho, ho, ho ! Come 
 along ; you're warm, I'm sure. Colonel 
 Pratt, so come in and cool yourself; 
 Teigue is going to have a swim ! ' The 
 voice seemed as if descending amongst 
 the trailing ivy and brushwood which 
 clothes this picturesque cliff nearly 
 from top to bottom, yet it was impos- 
 sible that any human being could have 
 found footing. *Now, colonel, have 
 you courage to take the leap ? Ho, 
 ho, ho ! what a pretty soldier you are. 
 Good-bye; I'll see you again in ten 
 
 F 
 
66 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 minutes above, at the house — look at 
 your watch, colonel : there's a dive 
 for you'; and a heavy plunge into 
 the water was heard. The colonel 
 stood still, but no sound followed, 
 and he walked slowly back to the 
 house, not quite half a mile from 
 the Crag. 
 
 * Well, did you see Teigue ? ' said his 
 brother, whilst his nephews, scarcely 
 able to smother their laughter, stood 
 by. 
 
 *Give me some wine,' said the 
 colonel. *I never was led such a 
 dance in my life ; the fellow carried 
 me all round and round till he brought 
 me to the edge of the cliif, and then 
 down he went into Hell-hole, telling 
 me he'd be here in ten minutes ; 'tis 
 more than that now, but he's not 
 come.' 
 
 * Ho, ho, ho ! colonel, isn't he here ? 
 Teigue never told a lie in his life : but, 
 Mr. Pratt, give me a drink and my 
 dinner, and then good-night to you all. 
 
TEIGUE OF THE LEE 67 
 
 for I'm tired ; and that's the colonel's 
 doing.' A plate of food was ordered ; 
 it was placed by John, with fear and 
 trembling, on the lawn under the 
 window. Every one kept on the watch, 
 and the plate remained undisturbed 
 for some time. 
 
 ' Ah ! Mr. Pratt, will you starve 
 poor Teigue? Make every one go 
 away from the windows, and Master 
 Henry out of the tree, and Master 
 Richard off the garden wall.' 
 
 The eyes of the company were 
 turned to the tree and the garden wall ; 
 the two boys' attention was occupied 
 in getting down ; the visitors were 
 looking at them ; and * Ho, ho, ho ! — 
 good luck to you, Mr. Pratt 1 'tis a 
 good dinner, and there's the plate, 
 ladies and gentlemen. Good-bye to 
 you, colonel ! — good-bye, Mr. Bell ! 
 good-bye to you all ! ' brought their 
 attention back, when they saw the 
 empty plate lying on the grass; and 
 Teigue's voice was heard no more 
 
68 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 for that evening. Many visits were 
 afterwards paid by Teigue ; but 
 never was he seen, nor was any 
 discovery ever made of his person 
 or character. 
 
THE FAIRY GREYHOUND 
 
 BADDY M^DERMID was one 
 of the most rollicking boys 
 in the whole county of 
 Kildare. Fair or pattern^ 
 wouldn't be held barring he was in the 
 midst of it. He was in every place, 
 like bad luck, and his poor little farm 
 was seldom sowed in season ; and 
 where he expected barley, there grew 
 nothing but weeds. Money became 
 scarce in poor Paddy's pocket ; and 
 the cow went after the pig, until nearly 
 
 ^ A merry-making in the honour of some 
 patron saint. 
 
70 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 all he had was gone. Lucky however 
 for him, if he had gomch (sense) enough 
 to mind it, he had a most beautiful 
 dream one night as he lay tossicated 
 (drunk) in the Rath ^ of Monogue, be- 
 cause he wasn't able to come home. 
 He dreamt that, under the place where 
 he lay, a pot of money was buried 
 since long before the memory of man. 
 Paddy kept the dream to himself until 
 the next night, when, taking a spade 
 and pickaxe, with a bottle of holy water, 
 he went to the Rath, and, having made 
 a circle round the place, commenced 
 diggin' sure enough, for the bare life 
 and sowl of him thinkin' that he was 
 made up for ever and ever. He had 
 sunk about twice the depth of his 
 knees, when whack the pickaxe struck 
 against a flag, and at the same time 
 Paddy heard something breathe quite 
 near him. He looked up, and just 
 
 1 Raths are little fields enclosed by circular 
 ditches. They are thought to be the sheep- 
 folds and dwellings of an ancient people. 
 
1 
 
 'fornent him there sat on his haunches a 
 
 COMELY-LOOKING GREYHOUND." [Page 71. 
 
THE FAIRY GREYHOUND 71 
 
 foment him there sat on his haunches 
 a comely-looking greyhound. 
 
 *God save you/ said Paddy, every 
 hair in his head standing up as straight 
 as a sally twig. 
 
 *Save you kindly/ answered the 
 greyhound — leaving out God, the 
 beast, bekase he was the divil. Christ 
 defend us from ever seeing the likes 
 o^ him. 
 
 *Musha, Paddy M*Dermid,' said 
 he, * what would you be looking after 
 in that grave of a hole you're diggin' 
 there ? ' 
 
 * Faith, nothing at all, at all,' an- 
 swered Paddy ; bekase you see he 
 didn't like the stranger. 
 
 *Arrah, be easy now, Paddy M*Der- 
 mid,' said the greyhound; * don't I 
 know very well what you are looking 
 for?' 
 
 *Why then in truth, if you do, I 
 may as well tell you at wonst, particu- 
 larly as you seem a civil -looking 
 gentleman, that's not above speak- 
 
72 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 ing to a poor gossoon like myself.' 
 (Paddy wanted to butter him up a 
 bit.) 
 
 *Well then/ said the greyhound, 
 * come out here and sit down on this 
 bank,' and Paddy, like a gomulagh 
 (fool), did as he was desired, but had 
 hardly put his brogue outside of the 
 circle made by the holy water, when 
 the beast of a hound set upon him, 
 and drove him out of the Rath ; 
 for Paddy was frightened, as well he 
 might, at the fire that flamed from 
 his mouth. But next night he re- 
 turned, full sure the money was there. 
 As before, he made a circle, and 
 touched the flag, when my gentleman, 
 the greyhound, appeared in the ould 
 place. 
 
 * Oh ho,' said Paddy, * you are there, 
 are you? but it will be a long day, 
 I promise you, before you trick me 
 again'; and he made another stroke 
 at the flag. 
 
 *Well, Paddy M^Dermid,' said the 
 
THE FAIRY GREYHOUND 73 
 
 hound, * since you will have money, 
 you must ; but say, how much will 
 satisfy you ? ' 
 
 Paddy scratched his conlaan, and 
 after a while said — 
 
 *How much will your honour give 
 me?' for he thought it better to be 
 civil. 
 
 *Just as much as you consider 
 reasonable, Paddy M^Dermid/ 
 
 *Egad,' says Paddy to himself, 
 * there's nothing like axin' enough.' 
 
 *Say fifty thousand pounds,' said 
 he. (He might as well have said a 
 hundred thousand, for I'll be bail the 
 beast had money gulloure.) 
 
 * You shall have it,' said the hound ; 
 and then, after trotting away a little 
 bit, he came back with a crock full 
 of guineas between his paws. 
 
 * Come here and reckon them,' said 
 he ; but Paddy was up to him, and 
 refused to stir, so the crock was shoved 
 alongside the blessed and holy circle, 
 and Paddy pulled it in, right glad to 
 
74 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 have it in his clutches, and never 
 stood still until he reached his own 
 home, where his guineas turned into 
 little bones, and his ould mother 
 laughed at him. Paddy now swore 
 vengeance against the deceitful beast 
 of a greyhound, and went next night 
 to the Rath again, where, as before, he 
 met Mr. Hound. 
 
 *So you are here again, Paddy?' 
 said he. 
 
 * Yes, you big blaggard,' said Paddy, 
 * and I'll never leave this place until I 
 pull out the pot of money that's buried 
 here.' 
 
 *0h, you won't,' said he. *Well, 
 Paddy M'Dermid, since I see you are 
 such a brave venturesome fellow I'll 
 be after making you up if you walk 
 downstairs with me out of the could ' ; 
 and sure enough it was snowing like 
 murder. 
 
 * Oh may I never see Athy if I do,' 
 returned Paddy, *for you only want 
 to be loading me with ould bones. 
 
THE FAIRY GREYHOUND 75 
 
 or perhaps breaking my own, which 
 would be just as bad.* 
 
 * Ton honour/ said the hound, * I 
 am your friend ; and so don't stand 
 in your own hght ; come with me and 
 your fortune is made. Remain where 
 you are and you'll die a beggar-man.' 
 So bedad, with one palaver and an- 
 other, Paddy consented; and in the 
 middle of the Rath opened up a 
 beautiful staircase, down which they 
 walked ; and after winding and turning 
 they came to a house much finer than 
 the Duke of Leinster's, in which all 
 the tables and chairs were solid gold. 
 Paddy was delighted ; and after sitting 
 down, a fine lady handed him a glass 
 of something to drink \ but he had 
 hardly swallowed a spoonful when all 
 around set up a horrid yell, and those 
 who before appeared beautiful now 
 looked like what they were — enraged 
 * good people ' (fairies). Before Paddy 
 could bless himself, they seized him, 
 legs and arms, carried him out to a 
 
76 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 great high hill that stood like a wall 
 over a river, and flung him down. 
 * Murder ! ' cried Paddy ; but it was no 
 use, no use ; he fell upon a rock, and 
 lay there as dead until next morning, 
 where some people found him in the 
 trench that surrounds the mote of Coul- 
 hall, the * good people * having carried 
 him there ; and from that hour to the 
 day of his death he was the greatest 
 object in the world. He walked double, 
 and had his mouth (God bless us) where 
 his ear should be. 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 ^m 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^P 
 
 ^ 
 
 5*^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 1 
 
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 1-^ 
 
 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 
 
 By Crofton Croker • 
 
 |N the shore of Smerwick 
 harbour, one fine summer's 
 morning, just at daybreak, 
 stood Dick Fitzgerald 
 * shoghing the dudeen,' which may be 
 translated, smoking his pipe. The 
 sun was gradually rising behind the 
 lofty Brandon, the dark sea was getting 
 green in the light, and the mists clear- 
 ing away out of the valleys went rolling 
 and curling like the smoke from the 
 corner of Dick's mouth. 
 
 *'Tis just the pattern of a pretty 
 morning,' said Dick, taking the pipe 
 
78 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 from between his lips, and looking to- 
 wards the distant ocean, which lay as 
 still and tranquil as a tomb of polished 
 marble. * Well, to be sure,' continued 
 he, after a pause, * 'tis mighty lonesome 
 to be talking to one's self by way of 
 company, and not to have another soul 
 to answer one — nothing but the child 
 of one's own voice, the echo ! I know 
 this, that if I had the luck, or may 
 be the misfortune,' said Dick, with a 
 melancholy smile, * to have the woman, 
 it would not be this way with me ! and 
 what in the wide world is a man with- 
 out a wife ? He's no more surely than 
 a bottle without a drop of drink in 
 it, or dancing without music, or the 
 left leg of a scissors, or a fishing-line 
 without a hook, or any other matter 
 that is no ways complete. Is it not 
 so?' said Dick Fitzgerald, casting his 
 eyes towards a rock upon the strand, 
 which, though it could not speak, stood 
 up as firm and looked as bold as ever 
 Kerry witness did. 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 79 
 
 But what was his astonishment at 
 beholding, just at the foot of that rock, 
 a beautiful young creature combing her 
 hair, which was of a sea-green colour ; 
 and now the salt water shining on it 
 appeared, in the morning light, like 
 melted butter upon cabbage. 
 
 Dick guessed at once that she was 
 a Merrow,^ although he had never seen 
 one before, for he spied the cohuleen 
 driuth^ or little enchanted cap, which 
 the sea people use for diving down into 
 the ocean, lying upon the strand near 
 her; and he had heard that, if once 
 he could possess himself of the cap 
 she would lose the power of going 
 away into the water: so he seized it 
 with all speed, and she, hearing the 
 noise, turned her head about as natural 
 as any Christian. 
 
 When the Merrow saw that her 
 
 httle diving-cap was gone, the salt tears 
 
 — doubly salt, no doubt, from her — 
 
 came trickling down her cheeks, and 
 
 ^ Sea fairy. 
 
8o IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 she began a low mournful cry with just 
 the tender voice of a new-born infant. 
 Dick, although he knew well enough 
 what she was crying for, determined to 
 keep the cohuleen driuth, let her cry 
 never so much, to see what luck would 
 come out of it. Yet he could not help 
 pitying her ; and when the dumb thing 
 looked up in his face, with her cheeks 
 all moist with tears, 'twas enough to 
 make any one feel, let alone Dick, who 
 had ever and always, like most of his 
 countrymen, a mighty tender heart of 
 his own. 
 
 * Don't cry, my darling,' said Dick 
 Fitzgerald ; but the Merrow, like any 
 bold child, only cried the more for 
 that. 
 
 Dick sat himself down by her side, 
 and took hold of her hand by way of 
 comforting her. 'Twas in no particular 
 an ugly hand, only there was a small 
 web between the fingers, as there is in 
 a duck's foot ; but 'twas as thin and as 
 white as the skin between egg and shell. 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 8t 
 
 * What's your name, my darling ? ' 
 says Dick, thinking to make her con- 
 versant with him ; but he got no 
 answer ; and he was certain sure now, 
 either that she could not speak, or 
 did not understand him : he therefore 
 squeezed her hand in his, as the only 
 way he had of talking to her. It's the 
 universal language; and there's not a 
 woman in the world, be she fish or 
 lady, that does not understand it. 
 
 The Merrow did not seem much 
 displeased at this mode of conversa- 
 tion ; and making an end of her whin- 
 ing all at once, *Man,' says she, look- 
 ing up in Dick Fitzgerald's face ; * man, 
 will you eat me ? ' 
 
 * By all the red petticoats and check 
 aprons between Dingle and Tralee,' 
 cried Dick, jumping up in amazement, 
 * I'd as soon eat myself, my jewel ! 
 Is it I eat you, my pet? Now, 'twas 
 some ugly ill-looking thief of a fish put 
 that notion into your own pretty head, 
 with the nice green hair down upon it, 
 
 G 
 
82 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 that is SO cleanly combed out this 
 morning ! ' 
 
 *Man/ said the Merrow, *what will 
 you do with me if you won't eat me ? ' 
 
 Dick's thoughts were running on a 
 wife : he saw, at the first glimpse, that 
 she was handsome; but since she spoke, 
 and spoke too like any real woman, he 
 was fairly in love with her. 'Twas the 
 neat way she called him man that 
 settled the matter entirely. 
 
 * Fish,' says Dick, trying to speak to 
 her after her own short fashion ; * fish,' 
 says he, * here's my word, fresh and 
 fasting, for you this blessed morning, 
 that I'll make you Mistress Fitzgerald 
 before all the world, and that's what 
 ril do.' 
 
 * Never say the word twice,' says 
 she; *I'm ready and willing to be 
 yours. Mister Fitzgerald; but stop, if 
 you please, till I twist up my hair.' 
 It was some time before she had settled 
 it entirely to her liking ; for she guessed, 
 I suppose, that she was going among 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 83 
 
 Strangers, where she would be looked 
 at. When that was done, the Merrow 
 put the comb in her pocket, and then 
 bent down her head and whispered 
 some words to the water that was close 
 to the foot of the rock. 
 
 Dick saw the murmur of the words 
 upon the top of the sea, going out 
 towards the wide ocean, just like a 
 breath of wind rippling along, and, 
 says he, in the greatest wonder, * Is it 
 speaking you are, my darling, to the • 
 salt water ? ' 
 
 'It's nothing else,' says she, quite 
 carelessly ; * I'm just sending word 
 home to my father not to be waiting 
 breakfast for me; just to keep him 
 from being uneasy in his mind.' 
 
 * And who's your father, my duck ? ' 
 said Dick. 
 
 * What ! ' said the Merrow, * did you 
 never hear of my father ? he's the king 
 of the waves to be sure ! ' 
 
 * And yourself, then, is a real king's 
 daughter ? ' said Dick, opening his two 
 
84 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 eyes to take a full and true survey of 
 his wife that was to be. *0h, I'm 
 nothing else but a made man with 
 you, and a king your father; to be 
 sure he has all the money that's down 
 at the bottom of the sea ! ' 
 
 * Money/ repeated the Merrow, 
 
 * what's money ? ' 
 
 * 'Tis no bad thing to have when one 
 wants it/ replied Dick ; * and may be 
 now the fishes have the understanding 
 to bring up whatever you bid them ? ' 
 
 *0h yes/ said the Merrow, *they 
 bring me what I want/ 
 
 ' To speak the truth then,' said Dick, 
 
 * 'tis a straw bed I have at home before 
 you, and that, I'm thinking, is no ways 
 fitting for a king's daughter; so if 
 'twould not be displeasing to you, 
 just to mention a nice feather bed, 
 with a pair of new blankets — but 
 what am I talking about ? may be you 
 have not such things as beds down 
 under the water ? ' 
 
 * By all means,' said she, * Mr. 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 85 
 
 Fitzgerald — plenty of beds at your 
 service. I've fourteen oyster-beds of 
 my own, not to mention one just 
 planting for the rearing of young ones.' 
 
 *You have?' says Dick, scratching 
 his head and looking a little puzzled. 
 *Tis a feather bed I was speaking of; 
 but, clearly, yours is the very cut of a 
 decent plan to have bed and supper so 
 handy to each other, that a person 
 when they'd have the one need never 
 ask for the other.* 
 
 However, bed or no bed, money or 
 no money, Dick Fitzgerald determined 
 to marry the Merrow, and the Merrow 
 had given her consent. Away they 
 went, therefore, across the strand, 
 from Gollerus to Ballinrunnig, where 
 Father Fitzgibbon happened to be that 
 morning. 
 
 * There are two words to this bargain, 
 Dick Fitzgerald,' said his Reverence, 
 looking mighty glum. *And is it a 
 fishy woman you'd marry ? The Lord 
 preserve us ! Send the scaly creature 
 
86 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 home to her own people ; that^s my 
 advice to you, wherever she came from.' 
 
 Dick had the cohuleen driuth in his 
 hand, and was about to give it back to 
 the Merrow, who looked covetously at 
 it, but he thought for a moment, and 
 then says he, * Please your Reverence, 
 she's a king's daughter.' 
 
 *If she was the daughter of fifty 
 kings,' said Father Fitzgibbon, * I tell 
 you, you can't marry her, she being a 
 fish.' 
 
 * Please your Reverence,' said Dick 
 again, in an undertone, *she is as 
 mild and as beautiful as the moon.' 
 
 * If she was as mild and as beautiful 
 as the sun, moon, and stars, all put 
 together, I tell you, Dick Fitzgerald,' 
 said the Priest, stamping his right 
 foot, *you can't marry her, she being 
 a fish.' 
 
 *But she has all the gold that's 
 down in the sea only for the asking, 
 and I'm a made man if I marry her ; 
 and,' said Dick, looking up slily, ^ I can 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 87 
 
 make it worth any one's while to do 
 the job.' 
 
 * Oh ! that alters the case entirely,' 
 repHed the Priest ; * why there's some 
 reason now in what you say : why 
 didn't you tell me this before ? marry 
 her by all means, if she was ten times 
 a fish. Money, you know, is not to 
 be refused in these bad times, and I 
 may as well have the hansel of it as 
 another, that may be would not take 
 half the pains in counselling you that 
 I have done.' 
 
 So Father Fitzgibbon married Dick 
 Fitzgerald to the Merrow, and like 
 any loving couple, they returned to 
 Gollerus well pleased with each other. 
 Everything prospered with Dick — he 
 was at the sunny side of the world ; 
 the Merrow made the best of wives, 
 and they lived together in the greatest 
 contentment. 
 
 It was wonderful to see, considering 
 where she had been brought up, how 
 she would busy herself about the house. 
 
88 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 and how well she nursed the children ; 
 for, at the end of three years there 
 were as many young Fitzgeralds — two 
 boys and a girl. 
 
 In short, Dick was a happy man, 
 and so he might have been to the end 
 of his days if he had only had the 
 sense to take care of what he had got ; 
 many another man, however, beside 
 Dick, has not had wit enough to do 
 that. 
 
 One day, when Dick was obliged to 
 go to Tralee, he left the wife minding 
 the children at home after him, and 
 thinking she had plenty to do without 
 disturbing his fishing-tackle. 
 
 Dick was no sooner gone than Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald set about cleaning up the 
 house, and chancing to pull down a 
 fishing-net, what should she find be- 
 hind it in a hole in the wall but her 
 own cohuleen driuth. She took it out 
 and looked at it, and then she thought 
 of her father the king, and her mother 
 the queen, and her brothers and sisters. 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 89 
 
 and she felt a longing to go back to 
 them. 
 
 She sat down on a little stool and 
 thought over the happy days she had 
 spent under the sea ; then she looked 
 at her children, and thought on the 
 love and affection of poor Dick, and 
 how it would break his heart to lose 
 her. *But,' says she, *he won't lose 
 me entirely, for I'll come back to him 
 again, and who can blame me for going 
 to see my father and my mother after 
 being so long away from them ? ' 
 
 She got up and went towards the 
 door, but came back again to look 
 once more at the child that was sleep- 
 ing in the cradle. She kissed it gently, 
 and as she kissed it a tear trembled for 
 an instant in her eye and then fell on 
 its rosy cheek. She wiped away the 
 tear, and turning to the eldest little 
 girl, told her to take good care of her 
 brothers, and to be a good child her- 
 self until she came back. The Merrow 
 then went down to the strand. The 
 
90 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 sea was lying calm and smooth, just 
 heaving and glittering in the sun, and 
 she thought she heard a faint sweet 
 singing, inviting her to come down. 
 All her old ideas and feelings came 
 flooding over her mind, Dick and her 
 children were at the instant forgotten, 
 and placing the cohuleen driuth on her 
 head she plunged in. 
 
 Dick came home in the evening, and 
 missing his wife he asked Kathleen, his 
 little girl, what had become of her 
 mother, but she could not tell him. 
 He then inquired of the neighbours, 
 and he learned that she was seen going 
 towards the strand with a strange- 
 looking thing like a cocked hat in her 
 hand. He returned to his cabin to 
 search for the cohuleen driuth. It was 
 gone, and the truth now flashed upon 
 him. 
 
 Year after year did Dick Fitzgerald 
 wait expecting the return of his wife, 
 but he never saw her more. Dick 
 never married again, always thinking 
 
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS 91 
 
 that the Merrow would sooner or later 
 return to him, and nothing could ever 
 persuade him but that her father the 
 king kept her below by main force ; 
 * for,' said Dick, * she surely would not 
 of herself give up her husband and her 
 children/ 
 
 While she was with him she was so 
 good a wife in every respect that to 
 this day she is spoken of in the tradition 
 of the country as the pattern for one, 
 under the name of The Lady of 
 
 GOLLERUS. 
 
EVIL SPIRITS 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 
 
 By Samuel Lover 
 
 jOU see, sir, there was a 
 colonel wanst, in times back, 
 that owned a power of land 
 about here — but God keep 
 uz, they said he didn't come by it 
 honestly, but did a crooked turn when- 
 ever 'twas to sarve himself. 
 
 Well, the story goes that at last the 
 divil (God bless us) kem to him, and 
 promised him hapes o' money, and all 
 his heart could desire and more, too, 
 if he'd sell his sowl in exchange. 
 
 He was too cunnin' for that; bad 
 as he was — and he was bad enough 
 
96 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 God knows — he had some regard for 
 his poor sinful sowl, and he would not 
 give himself up to the divil, all out ; 
 but, the villain, he thought he might 
 make a bargain with the old chap^ and 
 get all he wanted, and keep himself 
 out of harm's way still : for he was 
 mighty 'cute — and, throth, he was able 
 for Owld Nick any day. 
 
 Well, the bargain was struck, and 
 it was this-a-way : the divil was to give 
 him all the goold ever he'd ask for, 
 and was to let him alone as long as he 
 could; and the timpter promised him 
 a long day, and said 'twould be a great 
 while before he'd want him at all, at 
 all ; and whin that time kem, he was 
 to keep his hands aff him, as long as 
 the other could give him some work 
 he couldn't do. 
 
 So, when the bargain was made, 
 *Now,' says the colonel to the divil, 
 * give me all the money I want.' 
 
 *As much as you like,' says Owld 
 Nick ; * how much will you have ? ' 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 97 
 
 * You must fill me that room/ says 
 he, pointin' into a murtherin' big room 
 that he emptied out on purpose — 
 *you must fill that room/ says he, 
 *up to the very ceilin' with goolden 
 guineas.' 
 ■ ^ And welkem,' says the divil. 
 
 With that, sir, he began to shovel 
 the guineas into the room like mad; 
 and the colonel towld him, that as 
 soon as he was done, to come to him 
 in his own parlour below, and that he 
 would then go up and see if the divil 
 was as good as his word, and had filled 
 the room with the goolden guineas. 
 So the colonel went downstairs, and 
 the owld fellow worked away as busy 
 as a nailer, shovellin' in the guineas by 
 hundherds and thousands. 
 
 Well, he worked away for an hour 
 and more, and at last he began to get 
 tired; and he thought it mighty odd 
 that the room wasn't fillin' fasther. 
 Well, afther restin' for awhile, he began 
 agin, and he put his shouldher to the 
 
 H 
 
98 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 work in airnest ; but still the room was 
 no fuller at all, at all. 
 
 * Och ! bad luck to me,' says the 
 divil, *but the likes of this I never 
 seen,' says he, * far and near, up and 
 down — the dickens a room I ever kem 
 across afore,' says he, ^ I couldn't cram 
 while a cook would be crammin' a 
 turkey, till now ; and here I am,' says 
 he, Mosin' my whole day, and I with 
 such a power o' work an my hands 
 yit, and this room no fuller than five 
 minutes ago.' 
 
 Begor, while he was spakin' he seen 
 the hape o' guineas in the middle of 
 the flure growing littler and littler every 
 minit ; and at last they wor disappear- 
 ing, for all the world like corn in the 
 hopper of a mill. 
 
 * Ho ! ho ! ' says Owld Nick, ' is that 
 the way wid you ? ' says he ; and wid 
 that, he ran over to the hape of goold 
 — and what would you think, but it 
 was runnin' down through a great big 
 hole in the flure, that the colonel made 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 99 
 
 through the ceilin' in the room below ; 
 and>that was the work he was at afther 
 he left the divil, though he purtended 
 he was only waitin' for him in his 
 parlour; and there the divil, when he 
 looked down the hole in the flure, seen 
 the colonel, not content with the two 
 rooms full of guineas, but with a big 
 shovel throwin^ them into a closet a' 
 one side of him as fast as they fell 
 down. So, putting his head through the 
 hole, he called down to the colonel : 
 
 * Hillo, neighbour ! ' says he. 
 
 The colonel looked up, and grew as 
 white as a sheet, when he seen he was 
 found out, and the red eyes starin' 
 down at him through the hole. 
 
 *Musha, bad luck to your impu- 
 dence!' says Owld Nick : 'it is sthrivin' 
 to chate me you are,' says he, *you 
 villain ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, forgive me for this wanst ! ' 
 says the colonel, * and, upon the honour 
 of a gintleman,' says he, * I'll never 
 
lOo IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * Whisht ! whisht ! you thievin' rogue/ 
 says the divil, * I'm not angry with you 
 at all, at all, but only like you the 
 betther, bekase you're so cute; — lave 
 off slaving yourself there,' says he, 
 *you have got goold enough for this 
 time; and whenever you want more, 
 you have only to say the word, and it 
 shall be yours to command.' 
 
 So with that, the divil and he parted 
 for that time : and myself doesn't 
 know whether they used to meet often 
 afther or not; but the colonel never 
 wanted money, anyhow, but went on 
 prosperous in the world — and, as the 
 saying is, if he took the dirt out o' the 
 road, it id turn to money wid him ; 
 and so, in course of time, he bought 
 great estates, and was a great man 
 entirely — not a greater in Ireland, 
 throth. 
 
 At last, afther many years of pros- 
 perity, the owld colonel got stricken 
 in years, and he began to have 
 misgivings in his conscience for his 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL loi 
 
 wicked doings, and his heart was heavy 
 as the fear of death came upon him ; 
 and sure enough, while he had such 
 murnful thoughts, the divil kem to 
 him, and towld him he should go wid 
 him. 
 
 Well, to be sure, the owld man was 
 frekened, but he plucked up his courage 
 and his cuteness, and towld the divil, 
 in a bantherin' way, jokin' like, that 
 he had partic'lar business thin, that he 
 was goin' to a party, and hoped an 
 owld friend wouldn^t inconvaynience 
 him that-a-way. 
 
 The divil said he'd call the next 
 day, and that he must be ready ; and 
 sure enough in the evenin' he kem to 
 him ; and when the colonel seen him, 
 he reminded him of his bargain that 
 as long as he could give him some 
 work he couldn't do, he wasn't obleeged 
 to go. 
 
 ^ That's thrue,' says the divil. 
 
 * I'm glad you're as good as your 
 word, anyhow,' says the colonel. 
 
I02 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * I never bruk my word yit,' says 
 the owld chap, cocking up his horns 
 consaitedly ; * honour bright/ says he. 
 
 'Well then/ says the colonel, * build 
 me a mill, down there, by the river,' 
 says he, *and let me have it finished 
 by to-morrow mornin'/ 
 
 * Your will is my pleasure,' says the 
 owld chap, and away he wint ; and 
 the colonel thought he had nicked 
 Owld Nick at last, and wint to bed 
 quite aisy in his mind. 
 
 But, jewel machree, sure the first 
 thing he heerd the next mornin' was 
 that the whole counthry round was 
 runnin' to see a fine bran new mill 
 that was an the river -side, where the 
 evening before not a thing at all, at 
 all, but rushes was standin', and all, 
 of coorse, wonderin' what brought it 
 there ; and some sayin' 'twas not lucky, 
 and many more throubled in their 
 mind, but one and all agreein' it was 
 no good', and that's the very mill 
 forninst you. 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 103 
 
 But when the colonel heered it he 
 was more throubled than any, of coorse, 
 and began to conthrive what else he 
 could think iv to keep himself out 
 iv the claws of the owld one. Well, 
 he often heerd tell that there was 
 one thing the divil never could do, 
 and I darsay you heerd it too, sir, 
 — that is, that he couldn't make a 
 rope out of the sands of the say; 
 and so when the owld one kem to 
 him the next day and said his job 
 was done, and that now the mill was 
 built he must either tell him somethin* 
 else he wanted done, or come away 
 wid him. 
 
 So the colonel said he saw it was 
 all over wid him. * But,' says he, 
 
 * I wouldn't like to go wid you alive, 
 and sure it's all the same to you, alive 
 or dead ? ' 
 
 *0h, that won't do,' says his frind; 
 
 * I can't wait no more,' says he. 
 
 * I don't want you to wait, my dear 
 frind,' says the colonel; *all I want 
 
I04 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 is, that you'll be plased to kill me 
 before you take me away.' 
 
 * With pleasure,' says Owld Nick. 
 
 * But will you promise me my choice 
 of dyin' one partic'lar way ? ' says the 
 colonel. 
 
 * Half a dozen ways, if it plazes you,' 
 says he. 
 
 * You're mighty obleegin',' says the 
 colonel ; * and so,' says he, ' I'd rather 
 die by bein' hanged with a rope made 
 out of the sa7ids of the say^^ says he, 
 lookin' mighty knowin' at the owld 
 fellow. 
 
 * I've always one about me,' says 
 the divil, * to obleege my frinds,' says 
 he ; and with that he pulls out a rope 
 made of sand, sure enough. 
 
 *0h, it's game you're makin',' says 
 the colonel, growin' as white as a sheet. 
 
 *The game is mine, sure enough,' 
 says the owld fellow, grinnin', with a 
 terrible laugh. 
 
 * That's not a sand-rope at all,' says 
 the colonel. 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 105 
 
 * Isn't it ? ' says the divil, hittin' him 
 acrass the face with the ind iv the 
 rope, and the sand (for it was made of 
 sand, sure enough) went into one of 
 his eyes, and made the tears come 
 with the pain. 
 
 * That bates all I ever seen or heerd,' 
 says the colonel, sthrivin' to rally and 
 make another offer ; * is there anything 
 you caiiH do ? ' 
 
 * Nothing you can tell me,' says the 
 divil, *so you may as well leave off 
 your palaverin' and come along at 
 wanst.' 
 
 * Will you give me one more offer,' 
 says the colonel. 
 
 *You don't desarve it,' says the 
 divil; *but I don't care if I do'; 
 for you see, sir, he was only playin' 
 wid him, and tantalising the owld 
 sinner. 
 
 *A11 fair,' says the colonel, and with 
 that he ax'd him could he stop a 
 woman's tongue. 
 
 *Thry me,' says Owld Nick. 
 
io6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * Well then,' says the colonel, * make 
 my lady's tongue be quiet for the next 
 month and I'd thank you.' 
 
 * She'll never trouble you agin,' says 
 Owld Nick ; and with that the colonel 
 heerd roarin' and cryin', and the door 
 of his room was thrown open and in 
 ran his daughter, and fell down at 
 his feet, telling him her mother had 
 just dhropped dead. 
 
 The minit the door opened, the 
 divil runs and hides himself behind 
 a big elbow-chair; and the colonel 
 was frekened almost out of his siven 
 sinses by raison of the sudden death 
 of his poor lady, let alone the jeopardy 
 he was in himself, seein' how the divil 
 had forestalled him every way; and 
 after ringin' his bell and callin' to 
 his sarvants and recoverin' his daughter 
 out of her faint, he was goin' away 
 wid her out of the room, whin the 
 divil caught howld of him by the 
 skirt of the coat, and the colonel was 
 obleeged to let his daughter be carried 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 107 
 
 out by the sarvants, and shut the door 
 afther them. 
 
 * Well/ says the divil, and he grinn'd 
 and wagg'd his tail, all as one as a 
 dog when he's plaised ; * what do you 
 say now ? ' says he. 
 
 *0h/ says the colonel, 'only lave 
 me alone until I bury my poor wife,' 
 says he, *and I'll go with you then, 
 you villain,' says he. 
 
 * Don't call names,' says the divil ; 
 *you had better keep a civil tongue 
 in your head,' says he ; * and it doesn't 
 become a gintleman to forget good 
 manners.' 
 
 'Well, sir, to make a long story 
 short, the divil purtended to let him 
 off, out of kindness, for three days 
 antil his wife was buried ; but the 
 raison of it was this, that when the 
 lady his daughter fainted, he loosened 
 the clothes about her throat, and in 
 pulling some of her dhress away, he 
 tuk off a goold chain that was on 
 her neck and put it in his pocket. 
 
io8 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 and the chain had a diamond crass 
 on it (the Lord be praised !) and the 
 divil darn't touch him while he had 
 the sign of the crass about him. 
 
 Well, the poor colonel (God forgive 
 him !) was grieved for the loss of his 
 lady, and she had an illigant berrin — 
 and they say that when the prayers 
 was readin' over the dead, the owld 
 colonel took it to heart like anything, 
 and the word o' God kem home to 
 his poor sinful sowl at last. 
 
 Well, sir, to make a long story short, 
 the ind of it was, that for the three 
 days o' grace that was given to him 
 the poor deluded owld sinner did 
 nothin' at all but read the Bible from 
 mornin' till night, and bit or sup didn't 
 pass his lips all the time, he was so 
 intint upon the Holy Book, but he 
 sat up in an owld room in the far 
 ind of the house, and bid no one 
 disturb him an no account, and struv 
 to make his heart bould with the words 
 iv life; and sure it was somethin' 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL 109 
 
 strinthened him at last, though as the 
 time drew nigh that the inuny was to 
 come, he didn't feel aisy, and no 
 wondher; and, bedad the three days 
 was past and gone in no time, and 
 the story goes that at the dead hour 
 o' the night, when the poor sinner 
 was readin' away as fast as he could, 
 my jew'l, his heart jumped up to his 
 mouth at gettin' a tap on the shoulder. 
 
 * Oh, murther ! ' says he, * who's 
 there?' for he was afeard to look 
 up. 
 
 ^It's me,' says the owld one, and 
 he stood right forninst him, and his 
 eyes like coals o' fire, lookin' him 
 through, and he said, with a voice 
 that almost split his owld heart, 
 * Come ! ' says he. 
 
 * Another day ! ' cried out the poor 
 colonel. 
 
 * Not another hour,' says Sat'n. 
 
 * Half an hour ! ' 
 
 *Not a quarther,' says the divil, 
 grinnin' with a bitther laugh; ^give 
 
no IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 over your readin', I bid you/ says he, 
 * and come away wid me.' 
 
 * Only gi' me a few minits,' says he. 
 
 * Lave aff your palaver in', you snakin' 
 owld sinner,' says Sat'n ; * you know 
 you're bought and sould to me, and 
 a purty bargain I have o' you, you 
 owld baste,' says he ; * so come along 
 at wanst,* and he put out his claw 
 to ketch him ; but the colonel tuk 
 a fast hould o' the Bible, and begged 
 hard that he'd let him alone, and 
 wouldn't harm him antil the bit o' 
 candle that was just blinkin' in the 
 socket before him was burned out. 
 
 * Well, have it so, you dirty coward,' 
 says Owld Nick, and with that he 
 spit an him. 
 
 But the poor owld colonel didn't 
 lose a minit (for he was cunnin' to 
 the ind), but snatched the little taste 
 o' candle that was forninst him out 
 o' the candlestick, and puttin' it an 
 the Holy Book before him, he shut 
 down the cover of it and quinched 
 
THE DEVIL'S MILL iii 
 
 the light. With that the divil gave 
 a roar like a bull, and vanished in a 
 flash o* fire, and the poor colonel 
 fainted away in his chair; but the 
 sarvants heerd the noise (for the divil 
 tore aff the roof o* the house when 
 he left it), and run into the room, 
 and brought their master to himself 
 agin. And from that day he was 
 an althered man, and used to have 
 the Bible read to him every day, for 
 he couldn't read himself any more, 
 by raison of losin' his eyesight when 
 the divil hit him with the rope of 
 sand in the face, and afther spit an 
 him — for the sand wint into one eye, 
 and he lost the other that-a-way, savin' 
 your presence. 
 
FERGUS O'MARA ANr3 THE 
 AIR-DEMONS 
 
 By Dr. P. W. Joyce 
 
 IF all the different kinds of 
 goblins that haunted the 
 lonely places of Ireland in 
 days of old, air-demons were 
 most dreaded by the people. They 
 lived among clouds, and mists, and 
 rocks, and they hated the human race 
 with the utmost malignity. In those 
 times lived in the north of Desmond 
 (the present county of Cork) a man 
 man named Fergus O'Mara. His farm 
 lay on the southern slope of the 
 Ballyhoura Mountains, along which 
 
FERGUS O'MARA 113 
 
 ran the open road that led to his 
 house. This road was not shut in by 
 walls or fences; but on both sides 
 there were scattered trees and bushes 
 that sheltered it in winter, and made 
 it dark and gloomy when you ap- 
 proached the house at night. Beside 
 the road, a little way off from the 
 house, there was a spot that had an 
 evil name all over the country, a little 
 hill covered closely with copsewood, 
 with a great craggy rock on top, from 
 which, on stormy nights, strange and 
 fearful sounds had often been heard — 
 shrill voices, and screams, mingled 
 with loud fiendish laughter; and the 
 people believed that it was the haunt 
 of air-demons. In some way it had 
 become known that these demons had 
 an eye on Fergus, and watched for 
 every opportunity to get him into their 
 power. He had himself been warned 
 of this many years before, by an old 
 monk from the neighbouring monastery 
 of Buttevant, who told him, moreover, 
 I 
 
H4 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 that SO long as he led a blameless, 
 upright life, he need have no fear of 
 the demons ; but that if ever he 
 yielded to temptation or fell into any 
 great sin, then would come the 
 opportunity for which they were 
 watching day and night. He never 
 forgot this warning, and he was very 
 careful to keep himself straight, both 
 because he was naturally a good man, 
 and for fear of the air-demons. 
 
 Some time before the occurrence 
 about to be related, one of Fergus's 
 children, a sweet little girl about seven 
 years of age, fell ill and died. The 
 little thing gradually wasted away, but 
 suffered no pain; and as she grew 
 weaker she became more loving and 
 gentle than ever, and talked in a 
 wonderful way, quite beyond her years, 
 of the bright land she was going to. 
 One thing she was particularly anxious 
 about, that when she was dying they 
 should let her hold a blessed candle 
 in her hand. They thought it very 
 
FERGUS O'MARA 115 
 
 Strange that she should be so continu- 
 ally thinking and talking of this ; and 
 over and over again she made her father 
 and mother promise that it should be 
 done. And with the blessed candle 
 in her hand she died so calmly and 
 sweetly that those round her bed could 
 not tell the exact moment. 
 
 About a year after this, on a bright 
 Sunday morning in October, Fergus 
 set out for Mass. The place was 
 about three miles away, and it was not 
 a chape V but a lonely old fort, called 
 to this day Lissanaffrin, the fort of the 
 Mass. A rude stone altar stood at 
 one side near the mound of the fort, 
 under a little shed that sheltered the 
 priest also; and the congregation 
 worshipped in the open air on the 
 green plot in the centre. For in those 
 days there were many places that had 
 no chapels ; and the people flocked to 
 
 ^ A fort is the same as a rath (see p. 70) ; 
 a few are fenced in with unmortared stone walls 
 instead of clay ditches. 
 
ii6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 these open-air Masses as faithfully as 
 we do now to our stately comfortable 
 chapels. The family had gone on 
 before, the men walking and the women 
 and children riding; and Fergus set 
 out to walk alone. 
 
 Just as he approached the Demons' 
 Rock he was greatly surprised to hear 
 the eager yelping of dogs, and in a 
 moment a great deer bounded from the 
 covert beside the rock, with three 
 hounds after her in full chase. No 
 man in the whole country round loved 
 a good chase better than Fergus, or 
 had a swifter foot to follow, and with- 
 out a moment's hesitation he started 
 in pursuit. But in a few minutes he 
 stopped up short; for he bethought 
 him of the Mass, and he knew there 
 was little time for delay. While he 
 stood wavering, the deer seemed to 
 slacken her pace, and the hounds 
 gained on her, and in a moment 
 Fergus dashed off at full speed, forget- 
 ting Mass and everything else in his 
 
FERGUS O'MARA 117 
 
 eagerness for the sport. But it turned 
 out a long and weary chase. Some- 
 times they slackened, and he was 
 almost at the hounds' tails, but the 
 next moment both deer and hounds 
 started forward and left him far behind. 
 Sometimes they were in full view, and 
 again they were out of sight in thickets 
 and deep glens, so that he could guide 
 himself only by the cry of the hounds. 
 In this way he was decoyed across 
 hills and glens, but instead of gaining 
 ground he found himself rather falling 
 behind. 
 
 Mass was all over and the people 
 dispersed to their homes, and all 
 wondered that they did not see Fergus ; 
 for no one could remember that he 
 was ever absent before. His wife re- 
 turned, expecting to find him at home ; 
 but when she arrived there was trouble 
 in her heart, for there were no tidings 
 of him, and no one had seen him since 
 he had set out for Mass in the morning. 
 
 Meantime Fergus followed up the 
 
ii8 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 chase till he was wearied out ; and at 
 last, just on the edge of a wild moor, 
 both deer and hounds disappeared 
 behind a shoulder of rock, and he lost 
 them altogether. At the same moment 
 the cry of the hounds became changed 
 to frightful shrieks and laughter, such 
 as he had heard more than once from 
 the Demons' Rock. And now, sitting 
 down on a bank to rest, he had full 
 time to reflect on what he had done, 
 and he was overwhelmed with remorse 
 and shame. Moreover, his heart sank 
 within him, thinking of the last sounds 
 he had heard ; for he believed that he 
 had been allured from Mass by the 
 cunning wiles of the demons, and he 
 feared that the dangerous time had come 
 foretold by the monk. He started up 
 and set out for his home, hoping to 
 reach it before night. But before he 
 had got half-way night fell and a 
 storm came on, great wind and rain 
 and bursts of thunder and lightning. 
 Fergus was strong and active, however. 
 
b 
 
 FERGUS O'MARA 119 
 
 and knew every turn of the mountain, 
 and he made his way through the storm 
 till he approached the Demons* Rock. 
 Suddenly there burst on his ears 
 the very same sounds that he had 
 heard on losing sight of the chase — 
 shouts and shrieks and laughter. A 
 great black ragged cloud, whirling 
 round and round with furious gusts of 
 wind, burst from the rock and came 
 sweeping and tearing towards him. 
 Crossing himself in terror and uttering 
 a short prayer, he rushed for home. 
 But the whirlwind swept nearer, till at 
 last, in a sort of dim, shadowy light, 
 he saw the black cloud full of 
 frightful faces, all glaring straight at 
 him and coming closer and closer. 
 At this moment a bright light dropped 
 down from the sky and rested in front 
 of the cloud ; and when he looked up, 
 he saw his little child floating in the 
 air between him and the demons, 
 holding a lighted candle in her hand. 
 And although the storm was raging 
 
I20 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 and roaring all round, she was quite 
 calm — not a breath of air stirred her 
 long yellow hair — and the candle 
 burned quietly. Even in the midst 
 of all his terror he could observe her 
 pale gentle face and blue eyes just as 
 when she was alive, not showing traces 
 of sickness or sadness now, but 
 lighted up with joy. The demons 
 seemed to start back from the light, 
 and with great uproar rushed round to 
 the other side of Fergus, the black 
 cloud still moving with them and 
 wrapping them up in its ragged folds ; 
 but the little angel floated softly 
 round, still keeping between them and 
 her father. Fergus ran on for home, 
 and the cloud of demons still kept 
 furiously whirling round and round 
 him, bringing with them a whirlwind 
 that roared among the trees and bushes 
 and tore them from the roots ; but 
 still the child, always holding the 
 candle towards them, kept floating 
 calmly round and shielded him. 
 
FERGUS O'MARA 121 
 
 At length he arrived at his house; 
 the door lay half-open, for the family 
 were inside expecting him home, list- 
 ening with wonder and affright to the 
 approaching noises ; and he bounded 
 in through the doorway and fell flat on 
 his face. That instant the door — 
 though no one was near — was shut 
 violently, and the bolts were shot home. 
 They hurried anxiously round him to 
 lift him up, but found him in a death- 
 like swoon. Meantime the uproar out- 
 side became greater than ever; round 
 and round the house it tore, a roaring 
 whirlwind with shouts and yells of rage, 
 and great trampling, as if there was 
 a whole company of horsemen. At 
 length, however, the noises seemed to 
 move away farther and farther off from 
 the house, and gradually died away in 
 the distance. At the same time the 
 storm ceased, and the night became 
 calm and beautiful. 
 
 The daylight was shining in through 
 the windows when Fergus recovered 
 
122 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 from his swoon, and then he told his 
 fearful story; but many days passed 
 over before he had quite recovered 
 from the horrors of that night. When 
 the family came forth in the morning 
 there was fearful waste all round and 
 near the house, trees and bushes torn 
 from the roots, and the ground all 
 trampled and torn up. After this the 
 revelry of the demons was never again 
 heard from the rock; and it was 
 believed that they had left it and 
 betaken themselves to some other 
 haunt. 
 
THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW 
 FEAR 
 
 Translated from the Gaelic by 
 Douglas Hyde 
 
 [HERE was once a lady, and 
 she had. two sons whose 
 names were Louras (Law- 
 rence) and Carrol. From 
 the day that Lawrence was born no- 
 thing ever made him afraid, but Carrol 
 would never go outside the door from 
 the time the darkness of the night 
 began. 
 
 It was the custom at that time when 
 a person died for people to watch 
 the dead person's grave in turn, one 
 
124 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 after another; for there used to be 
 destroyers going about stealing the 
 corpses. 
 
 When the mother of Carrol and 
 Lawrence died, Carrol said to Law- 
 rence — 
 
 *You say that nothing ever made 
 you afraid yet, but I'll make a bet 
 with you that you haven't courage 
 to watch your mother's tomb to-night.' 
 
 *I'll make a bet with you that I 
 have,' said Lawrence. 
 
 When the darkness of the night 
 was coming, Lawrence put on his 
 sword and went to the burying-ground. 
 He sat down on a tombstone near his 
 mother's grave till it was far in the 
 night and sleep was coming upon him. 
 Then he saw a big black thing coming 
 to him, and when it came near him he 
 saw that it was a head without a body 
 that was in it. He drew the sword to 
 give it a blow if it should come any 
 nearer, but it didn't come. Lawrence 
 remained looking at it until the light 
 
THE MAN WHO KNEW NO FEAR 125 
 
 of the day was coming, then the head- 
 without-body went, and Lawrence came 
 home. 
 
 Carrol asked him, did he see any- 
 thing in the graveyard. 
 
 * I did,' said Lawrence, * and my 
 mother's body would be gone, but that 
 I was guarding it.' 
 
 *Was it dead or alive, the person 
 you saw ? ' said Carrol. 
 
 * I don't know was it dead or alive,' 
 said Lawrence ; * there was nothing in 
 it but a head without a body.' 
 
 * Weren't you afraid ? ' says Carrol. 
 
 * Indeed I wasn't,' said Lawrence ; 
 'don't you know that nothing in the 
 world ever put fear on me.' 
 
 *ril bet again with you that you 
 haven't the courage to watch to-night 
 again,' says Carrol. 
 
 *I would make that bet with you,' 
 said Lawrence, *but that there is a 
 night's sleep wanting to me. Go 
 yourself to-night.' 
 
 * I wouldn't go to the graveyard 
 
126 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 to-night if I were to get the riches of 
 the world,' says Carrol. 
 
 * Unless you go your mother's body 
 will be gone in the morning,' says 
 Lawrence. 
 
 * If only you watch to-night and to- 
 morrow night, I never will ask of you 
 to do a turn of work as long as you 
 will be alive,' said Carrol, * but I think 
 there is fear on you.' 
 
 *To show you that there's no fear 
 on me,' said Lawrence, * I will watch.' 
 
 He went to sleep, and when the 
 evening came he rose up, put on his 
 sword, and went to the graveyard. He 
 sat on a tombstone near his mother's 
 grave. About the middle of the night 
 he heard a great sound coming. A 
 big black thing came as far as the 
 grave and began rooting up the clay. 
 Lawrence drew back his sword, and 
 with one blow he made two halves of 
 the big black thing, and with the 
 second blow he made two halves of 
 each half, and he saw it no more. 
 
THE MAN WHO KNE W NO FEAR 127 
 
 Lawrence went home in the morning, 
 and Carrol asked him did he see any- 
 thing. 
 
 *I did/ said Lawrence, 'and only 
 that I was there my mother's body 
 would be gone.' 
 
 *Is it the head -without -body that 
 came again ? ' said Carrol. 
 
 * It was not, but a big black thing, 
 and it was digging up my mother's 
 grave until I made two halves of it.' 
 
 Lawrence slept that day, and when 
 the evening came he rose up, put on 
 his sword, and went to the churchyard. 
 He sat down on a tombstone until it 
 was the middle of the night. Then 
 he saw a thing as white as snow and 
 as hateful as sin ] it had a man's head 
 on it, and teeth as long as a flax-carder. 
 Lawrence drew back the sword and 
 was going to deal it a blow, when it 
 said — 
 
 * Hold your hand ; you have saved 
 your mother's body, and there is not 
 a man in Ireland as brave as you. 
 
128 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 There is great riches waiting for you 
 if you go looking for it.' 
 
 Lawrence went home, and Carrol 
 asked him did he see anything. 
 
 *I did,' said Lawrence, *and but 
 that I was there my mother's body 
 would be gone, but there's no fear of 
 it now.' 
 
 In the morning, the day on the 
 morrow, Lawrence said to Carrol — 
 
 ' Give me my share of money, and 
 I'll go on a journey, until I have a 
 look round the country.' 
 
 Carrol gave him the money, and he 
 went walking. He went on until 
 he came to a large town. He went 
 into the house of a baker to get bread. 
 The baker began talking to him, 
 and asked him how far he was 
 going. 
 
 * I am going looking for some- 
 thing that will put fear on me,' said 
 Lawrence. 
 
 * Have you much money ? ' said the 
 baker. 
 
THE MAN WHO KNE W NO FEAR 129 
 
 *I have a half-hundred pounds,' 
 said Lawrence. 
 
 *I'll bet another half-hundred with 
 you that there will be fear on you if 
 you go to the place that I'll bid you,' 
 says the baker. 
 
 * I'll take your bet,' said Lawrence, 
 ' if only the place is not too far away 
 from me.' 
 
 ' It's not a mile from the place where 
 you're standing,' said the baker ; ' wait 
 here till the night comes, and then 
 go to the graveyard, and as a sign 
 that you were in it, bring me the 
 goblet that is upon the altar of the 
 old church {all) that is in the grave- 
 yard.' 
 
 When the baker made the bet he 
 was certain that he would win, for 
 there was a ghost in the churchyard, 
 and nobody went into it for forty years 
 before that whom he did not kill. 
 
 When the darkness of the night 
 came, Lawrence put on his sword and 
 went to the burying -ground. He 
 
 K 
 
I30 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 came to the door of the churchyard 
 and struck it with his sword. The 
 door opened, and there came out a 
 great black ram, and two horns on 
 him as long as flails. Lawrence gave 
 him a blow, and he went out of sight, 
 leaving him up to the two ankles in 
 blood. Lawrence went into the old 
 church, got the goblet, came back 
 to the baker's house, gave him the 
 goblet, and got the bet. Then the 
 baker asked him did he see anything 
 in the churchyard. 
 
 *I saw a big black ram with long 
 horns on him,' said Lawrence, *and 
 I gave him a blow which drew as 
 much blood out of him as would 
 swim a boat; sure he must be dead 
 by this time.' 
 
 In the morning, the day on the 
 morrow, the baker and a lot of people 
 went to the graveyard and they saw 
 the blood of the black ram at the 
 door. They went to the priest and 
 told him that the black ram was 
 
THE MAN WHO KNE W NO FEAR 131 
 
 banished out of the churchyard. The 
 priest did not believe them, because 
 the churchyard was shut up forty years 
 before that on account of the ghost 
 that was in it, and neither priest nor 
 friar could banish him. The priest came 
 with them to the door of the church- 
 yard, and when he saw the blood he 
 took courage and sent for Lawrence, 
 and heard the story from his own 
 mouth. Then he sent for his blessing- 
 materials, and desired the people to 
 come in till he read mass for them. 
 The priest went in, and Lawrence and 
 the people after him, and he read mass 
 without the big black ram coming as 
 he used to do. The priest was greatly 
 rejoiced, and gave Lawrence another 
 fifty pounds. 
 
 On the morning of the next day 
 Lawrence went on his way. He 
 travelled the whole day without seeing 
 a house. About the hour of midnight 
 he came to a great lonely valley, and 
 he saw a large gathering of people 
 
132 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 looking at two men hurling. Lawrence 
 stood looking at them, as there was 
 a bright light from the moon. It 
 was the good people that were in 
 it, and it was not long until one of 
 them struck a blow on the ball and 
 sent it into Lawrence's breast. He 
 put his hand in after the ball to draw 
 it out, and what was there in it but the 
 head of a man. When Lawrence got 
 a hold of it, it began screeching, and 
 at last it asked Lawrence — 
 
 * Are you not afraid ? ' 
 
 * Indeed I am not,' said Lawrence, 
 and no sooner was the word spoken 
 than both head and people disappeared, 
 and he was left in the glen alone by 
 himself. 
 
 He journeyed until he came to 
 another town, and when he ate and 
 drank enough, he went out on the 
 road, and was walking until he came 
 to a great house on the side of the 
 road. As the night was closing in, he 
 went in to try if he could get lodging. 
 
THE MAN WHO KNE W NO FEAR 133 
 
 There was a young man at the door 
 who said to him — 
 
 *How far are you going, or what 
 are you in search of? ' 
 
 * I do not know how far I am going, 
 but I am in search of something that 
 will put fear on me,' said Lawrence. 
 
 * You have not far to go, then,' said 
 the young man; *if you stop in that 
 big house on the other side of the road 
 there will be fear put on you before 
 morning, and I'll give you twenty 
 pounds into the bargain.' 
 
 * I'll stop in it,' said Lawrence. 
 The young man went with him, 
 
 opened the door, and brought him 
 into a large room in the bottom of the 
 house, and said to him, *Put down 
 fire for yourself and I'll send you 
 plenty to eat and drink.' He put 
 down a fire for himself, and there 
 came a girl to him and brought him 
 everything that he wanted. 
 
 He went on very well, until the 
 hour of midnight came, and then he 
 
134 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 heard a great sound over his head, and 
 it was not long until a stallion and a 
 bull came in and commenced to fight. 
 Lawrence never put to them nor from 
 them, and when they were tired fight- 
 ing they went out. Lawrence went to 
 sleep, and he never awoke until the 
 young man came in in the morning, 
 and he was surprised when he saw 
 Lawrence alive. He asked him had 
 he seen anything. 
 
 * I saw a stallion and a bull fighting 
 hard for about two hours,' said Law- 
 rence. 
 
 * And weren't you afraid ? ' said the 
 young man. 
 
 * I was not,' says Lawrence. 
 
 * If you wait to-night again, I'll give 
 you another twenty pounds,' says the 
 young man. 
 
 * I'll wait, and welcome,' says Law- 
 rence. 
 
 The second night, about ten o'clock, 
 Lawrence was going to sleep, when two 
 black rams came in and began fighting 
 
THE MAN WHO KNE W NO FEAR 135 
 
 hard. Lawrence neither put to them 
 nor from them, and when twelve 
 o^clock struck they went out. The 
 young man came in the morning and 
 asked him did he see anything last 
 night. 
 
 * I saw two black rams fighting,' said 
 Lawrence. 
 
 *Were you afraid at all?' said the 
 young man. 
 
 ' I was not,' said Lawrence. 
 
 *Wait to-night, and I'll give you 
 another twenty pounds,' says the 
 young man. 
 
 * All right,' says Lawrence. 
 
 The third night he was falling 
 asleep, when there came in a gray old 
 man and said to him — 
 
 * You are the best hero in Ireland ; I 
 died twenty years ago, and all that time 
 I have been in search of a man like 
 you. Come with me now till I show 
 you your riches ; I told you when you 
 were watching your mother's grave that 
 there was great riches waiting for you.' 
 
136 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 He took Lawrence to a chamber 
 under ground, and showed him a large 
 pot filled with gold, and said to him — 
 
 *You will have all that if you give 
 twenty pounds to Mary Kerrigan the 
 widow, and get her forgiveness for me 
 for a wrong I did her. Then buy this 
 house, marry my daughter, and you 
 will be happy and rich as long as you 
 live.' 
 
 The next morning the young man 
 came to Lawrence and asked him did 
 he see anything last night. 
 
 *I did,' said Lawrence, *and it's 
 certain that there will be a ghost always 
 in it, but nothing in the world would 
 frighten me; I'll buy the house and the 
 land round it, if you like.' 
 
 * I'll ask no price for the house, but 
 I won't part with the land under a 
 thousand pounds, and I'm sure you 
 haven't that much.' 
 
 * I have more than would buy all the 
 land and all the herds you have,' said 
 Lawrence. 
 
THE MAN WHO KNE W NO FEAR 137 
 
 When the young man heard that 
 Lawrence was so rich, he invited him 
 to come to dinner. Lawrence went 
 with him, and when the dead man's 
 daughter saw him she fell in love with 
 him. 
 
 Lawrence went to the house of Mary 
 Kerrigan and gave her twenty pounds, 
 and got her forgiveness for the dead 
 man. Then he married the young 
 man's sister and spent a happy life. 
 He died as he lived, without there 
 being fear on him. 
 
i 
 
CATS 
 
SEANCHAN THE BARD AND 
 THE KING OF THE CATS 
 
 By Lady Wilde 
 
 BHHWHEN Seanchan, the renowned 
 fffin ^^^^' ^^^ made Ard-File, 
 ■^^ or Chief Poet of Ireland, 
 Guaire, the king of Con- 
 naught, to do him honour, made a 
 great feast for him and the whole 
 Bardic Association. And all the 
 professors and learned men went to 
 the king's house, the great ollaves of 
 poetry and history and music, and of 
 the arts and sciences ; and the learned, 
 aged females, Grug and Grag and 
 Grangait ; and all the chief poets and 
 
142 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 poetesses of Ireland, an amazing num- 
 ber. But Guaire the king entertained 
 them all splendidly, so that the ancient 
 pathway to his palace is still called 
 ' The Road of the Dishes.' 
 
 And each day he asked, * How fares 
 it with my noble guests?' But they 
 were all discontented, and wanted 
 things he could not get for them. 
 So he was very sorrowful, and prayed 
 to God to be delivered from * the 
 learned men and women, a vexatious 
 class.' 
 
 Still the feast went on for three 
 days and three nights. And they 
 drank and made merry. And the 
 whole Bardic Association entertained 
 the nobles with the choicest music 
 and professional accomplishments. 
 
 But Seanchan sulked and would 
 neither eat nor drink, for he was 
 jealous of the nobles of Connaught. 
 And when he saw how much they 
 consumed of the best meats and wine, 
 he declared he would taste no food 
 
SEANCHAN THE BARD 143 
 
 till they and their servants were all 
 sent away out of the house. 
 
 And when Guaire asked him again, 
 * How fares my noble guest, and this 
 great and excellent people ? ' Seanchan 
 answered, *I have never had worse 
 days, nor worse nights, nor worse 
 dinners in my life.' And he ate 
 nothing for three whole days. 
 
 Then the king was sorely grieved 
 that the whole Bardic Association 
 should be feasting and drinking while 
 Seanchan, the chief poet of Erin, was 
 fasting and weak. So he sent his 
 favourite serving -man, a person of 
 mild manners and cleanliness, to offer 
 special dishes to the bard. 
 
 * Take them away,' said Seanchan ; 
 '- ril have none of them.' 
 
 *And why, O Royal Bard?' asked 
 the servitor. 
 
 * Because thou art an uncomely youth,' 
 answered Seanchan. * Thy grandfather 
 was chip-nailed — I have seen him; I 
 shall eat no food from thy hands.' 
 
144 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Then the king called a beautiful 
 maiden to him, his foster - daughter, 
 and said, * Lady, bring thou this 
 wheaten cake and this dish of salmon 
 to the illustrious poet, and serve him 
 thyself/ So the maiden went. 
 
 But when Seanchan saw her he 
 asked: *Who sent thee hither, and 
 why hast thou brought me food ? ' 
 
 *My lord the king sent me, O 
 Royal Bard,' she answered, * because 
 I am comely to look upon, and he 
 bade me serve thee with food my- 
 self.' 
 
 * Take it away,' said Seanchan, * thou 
 art an unseemly girl, I know of none 
 more ugly. I have seen thy grand- 
 mother; she sat on a wall one day 
 and pointed out the way with her 
 hand to some travelling lepers. How 
 could I touch thy food?' So the 
 maiden went away in sorrow. 
 
 And then Guaire the king was indeed 
 angry, and he exclaimed, *My male- 
 diction on the mouth that uttered 
 
SEANCHAN THE BARD 145 
 
 that ! May the kiss of a leper be on 
 Seanchan's lips before he dies ! ' 
 
 Now there was a young serving-girl 
 there, and she said to Seanchan, 
 
 * There is a hen's Qgg in the place, my 
 lord, may I bring it to thee, O Chief 
 Bard?' 
 
 *It will suffice,' said Seanchan; 
 
 * bring it that I may eat.' 
 
 But when she went to look for it, 
 behold the egg was gone. 
 
 * Thou hast eaten it,' said the bard, in 
 wrath. 
 
 *Not so, my lord,' she answered; 
 *but the mice, the nimble race, have 
 carried it away.' 
 
 *Then I will satirise them in a 
 poem,' said Seanchan; and forthwith 
 he chanted so bitter a satire against 
 them that ten mice fell dead at once 
 in his presence. 
 
 * 'Tis well,' said Seanchan ; * but the 
 cat is the one most to blame, for it 
 was her duty to suppress the mice. 
 Therefore I shall satirise the tribe of 
 
 L 
 
146 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 the cats, and their chief lord, Irusan, 
 son of Arusan; for I know where 
 he lives with his wife Spit-fire, and his 
 daughter Sharp-tooth, with her brothers 
 the Purrer and the Growler. But I 
 shall begin with Irusan himself, for 
 he is king, and answerable for all the 
 cats.' 
 
 And he said: 'Irusan, monster of 
 claws, who strikes at the mouse but 
 lets it go; weakest of cats. The 
 otter did well who bit off the tips of 
 thy progenitor's ears, so that every 
 cat since is jagged-eared. Let thy tail 
 hang down ; it is right, for the mouse 
 jeers at thee.' 
 
 Now Irusan heard these words in 
 his cave, and he said to his daughter 
 Sharp-tooth: *Seanchan has satirised 
 me, but I will be avenged.' 
 
 *Nay, father,' she said, 'bring him 
 here alive that we may all take our 
 revenge.' 
 
 * I shall go then and bring him,' said 
 Irusan ; ' so send thy brothers after me. 
 
SEANCHAN THE BARD 147 
 
 Now when it was told to Seanchan 
 that the King of the Cats was on his 
 way to come and kill him, he was 
 timorous, and besought Guaire and 
 all the nobles to stand by and protect 
 him. And before long a vibrating, 
 impressive, impetuous sound was heard, 
 like a raging tempest of fire in full 
 blaze. And when the cat appeared 
 he seemed to them of the size of a 
 bullock ; and this was his appearance 
 — rapacious, panting, jagged - eared, 
 snub - nosed, sharp - toothed, nimble, 
 angry, vindictive, glare -eyed, terrible, 
 sharp-clawed. Such was his similitude. 
 But he passed on amongst them, not 
 minding till he came to Seanchan; 
 and him he seized by the arm and 
 jerked him up on his back, and made 
 off the way he came before any one 
 could touch him ; for he had no other 
 object in view but to get hold of the 
 poet. 
 
 Now Seanchan, being in evil plight, 
 had recourse to flattery. *0 Irusan,' 
 
148 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 he exclaimed, * how truly splendid thou 
 art : such running, such leaps, such 
 strength, and such agility ! But what 
 evil have I done, O Irusan, son of 
 Arusan ? spare me, I entreat. I invoke 
 the saints between thee and me, O 
 great King of the Cats.* 
 
 But not a bit did the cat let go his 
 hold for all this fine talk, but went 
 straight on to Clonmacnoise, where 
 there was a forge ; and St. Kieran 
 happened to be there standing at the 
 door. 
 
 * What ! ' exclaimed the saint ; ' is 
 that the Chief Bard of Erin on the 
 back of a cat? Has Guaire's hospi- 
 tality ended in this ? ' And he ran for 
 a red-hot bar of iron that was in the 
 furnace, and struck the cat on the 
 side with it, so that the iron passed 
 through him, and he fell down lifeless. 
 
 *Now my curse on the hand that 
 gave that blow ! ' said the bard, when 
 he got upon his feet. 
 
 * And wherefore ? ' asked St. Kieran. 
 
SEANCHAN THE BARD 149 
 
 * Because/ answered Seanchan, * I 
 would rather Irusan had killed me, 
 and eaten me every bit, that so I 
 might bring disgrace on Guaire for 
 the bad food he gave me ; for it was 
 all owing to his wretched dinners that 
 I got into this plight.' 
 
 And when all the other kings heard 
 of Seanchan's misfortunes, they sent 
 to beg he would visit their courts. 
 But he would have neither kiss nor 
 welcome from them, and went on his 
 way to the bardic mansion, where the 
 best of good living was always to be 
 had. And ever after the kings were 
 afraid to offend Seanchan. 
 
 So as long as he lived he had the chief 
 place at the feast, and all the nobles 
 there were made to sit below him, and 
 Seanchan was content. And in time 
 he and Guaire were reconciled; and 
 Seanchan and all the ollaves, and the 
 whole Bardic Association, were feasted 
 by the king for thirty days in noble 
 style, and had the choicest of viands 
 
i5o IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 and the best of French wines to drink, 
 served in goblets of silver. And in 
 return for his splendid hospitality the 
 Bardic Association decreed unani- 
 mously a vote of thanks to the king. 
 And they praised him in poems as 
 * Guaire the Generous,' by which name 
 he was ever after known in history, 
 for the words of the poet are immortal. 
 
11 
 
 S 
 
 ^ 
 
 3 
 
 m 
 
 ^58 
 
 ^m 
 
 P!^^ 
 
 m)m 
 
 OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 
 
 By Gerald Griffen 
 
 ||%ra^fi»g|HEN Ireland had kings of 
 
 KKhI ^^^ ^^^ — when there was 
 B^^U no such thing as a coat 
 made of red cloth in the 
 country — when there was plenty in 
 men^s houses, and peace and quietness 
 at men's doors (and that is a long time 
 since) — there lived, in a village not far 
 from the great city of Lumneach,^ two 
 young men, cousins : one of them 
 named Owney, a smart, kind-hearted, 
 handsome youth, with limb of a delicate 
 form, and a very good understanding. 
 
 ^ The present Limerick. 
 
152 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 His cousin's name was Owney too, and 
 the neighbours christened him Owney- 
 na-peak (Owney of the nose), on ac- 
 count of a long nose he had got — a 
 thing so out of all proportion, that 
 after looking at one side of his face, it 
 was a smart morning's walk to get 
 round the nose and take a view of the 
 other (at least, so the people used to 
 say). He was a stout, able-bodied 
 fellow, as stupid as a beaten hound, 
 and he was, moreover, a cruel tyrant 
 to his young cousin, with whom he 
 lived in a kind of partnership. 
 
 Both of them were of a humble 
 station. They were smiths — white- 
 smiths — and they got a good deal of 
 business to do from the lords of the 
 court, and the knights, and all the 
 grand people of the city. But one 
 day young Owney was in town, he saw 
 a great procession of lords, and ladies, 
 and generals, and great people, among 
 whom was the king's daughter of the 
 court — and surely it is not possible for 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 153 
 
 the young rose itself to be so beautiful 
 as she was. His heart fainted at her 
 sight, and he went home desperately in 
 love, and not at all disposed to business. 
 
 Money, he was told, was the surest 
 way of getting acquainted with the 
 king, and so he began saving until he 
 had put together a few hogs,'^ but 
 Owney-na-peak, finding where he had 
 hid them, seized on the whole, as he used 
 to do on all young Owney's earnings. 
 
 One evening young Owney's mother 
 found herself about to die, so she 
 called her son to her bedside and said 
 to him: *You have been a most 
 dutiful good son, and 'tis proper you 
 should be rewarded for it. Take this 
 china cup to the fair, — there is a fairy 
 gift upon it, — use your own wit, look 
 about you, and let the highest bidder 
 have it — and so, my white-headed boy,^ 
 God bless you ! ' 
 
 * A hog^ IS. id. 
 
 * White-haired boy, a curious Irish phrase 
 for the favourite child. 
 
154 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 The young man drew the Httle 
 bedcurtain down over his dead 
 mother, and in a few days after, 
 with a heavy heart, he took his 
 china cup, and set off to the fair of 
 Garry o wen. 
 
 The place was merry enough. The 
 field that is called Gallows Green now 
 was covered with tents. There was 
 plenty of wine (poteen not being known 
 in these days, let alone parliament\ a 
 great many handsome girls, and 'tis 
 unknown all the keoh that was with the 
 boys and themselves. Poor Owney 
 walked all the day through the fair, 
 wishing to try his luck, but ashamed to 
 offer his china cup among all the fine 
 things that were there for sale. Even- 
 ing was drawing on at last, and he was 
 thinking of going home, when a strange 
 man tapped him on the shoulder, and 
 said: *My good youth, I have been 
 marking you through the fair the whole 
 day, going about with that cup in your 
 hand, speaking to nobody, and looking 
 
OWNBV AND OWNEY-NA'PEAK 155 
 
 as if you would be wanting something 
 or another/ 
 
 ^ I'm for selling it/ said Owney. 
 
 'What is it you're for selling, you 
 say?' said a second man, coming up, 
 and looking at the cup. 
 
 *Why then,' said the first man, 
 'and w^hat's that to you, for a prying 
 meddler? what do you want to know 
 what it is he's for selling ? ' 
 
 * Bad manners to you (and where's 
 the use of my wishing you what you 
 have already?), haven't I a right to 
 ask the price of what's in the fair ? ' 
 
 ' E'then, the knowledge o' the price 
 is all you'll have for it,' says the first. 
 'Here, my lad, is a golden piece for 
 your cup.' 
 
 * That cup shall never hold drink or 
 diet in your house, please Heaven,' 
 says the second; 'here's two gold 
 pieces for the cup, lad.' 
 
 'Why then, see this now — if I was 
 forced to fill it to the rim with gold 
 before I could call it mine, you shall 
 
iS6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 never hold that cup between your 
 fingers. Here, boy, do you mind me, 
 give me that, once for all, and here's 
 ten gold pieces for it, and say no more.' 
 
 * Ten gold pieces for a china cup ! ' 
 said a great lord of the court, who just 
 rode up at that minute, ' it must surely 
 be a valuable article. Here, boy, 
 here are twenty pieces for it, and give 
 it to my servant.' 
 
 * Give it to mine,' cried another lord 
 of the party, * and here's my purse, where 
 you will find ten more. And if any 
 man offers another fraction for it to 
 outbid that, I'll spit him on my sword 
 like a snipe.' 
 
 *I outbid him,' said a fair young 
 lady in a veil, by his side, flinging 
 twenty golden pieces more on the 
 ground. 
 
 There was no voice to outbid the 
 lady, and young Owney, kneeling, gave 
 the cup into her hands. 
 
 ' Fifty gold pieces for a china cup,' 
 said Owney to himself, as he plodded 
 
OIVNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 157 
 
 on home, * that was not worth two ! 
 Ah ! mother, you knew that vanity had 
 an open hand.' 
 
 But as he drew near home he de- 
 termined to hide his money somewhere, 
 knowing, as he well did, that his cousin 
 would not leave him a single cross to 
 bless himself with. So he dug a little 
 pit, and buried all but two pieces, 
 which he brought to the house. His 
 cousin, knowing the business on which 
 he had gone, laughed heartily when he 
 saw him enter, and asked him what 
 luck he had got with his punch-bowl. 
 
 *Not so bad, neither,' says Owney. 
 * Two pieces of gold is not a bad price 
 for an article of old china.' 
 
 * Two gold pieces, Owney, honey ! 
 Erra, let us see 'em, maybe you would ? ' 
 He took the cash from Owney's hand, 
 and after opening his eyes in great 
 astonishment at the sight of so much 
 money, he put them into his pocket. 
 
 *Well, Owney, I'll keep them safe 
 for you, in my pocket within. But 
 
158 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 tell US, maybe you would, how come 
 you to get such a mo7't o' money for an 
 old cup o' painted chaney, that wasn't 
 worth, maybe, a fi'penny bit ? ' 
 
 *To get into the heart o' the fair, 
 then, free and easy, and to look about 
 me, and to cry old china, and the first 
 man that co7ne up, he to ask me, what 
 is it I'd be asking for the cup, and I to 
 say out bold: "A hundred pieces of 
 gold," and he to laugh hearty, and we to 
 huxter together till he beat me down to 
 two, and there's the whole way of it all.' 
 
 Owney-na-peak made as if he took 
 no note of this, but next morning early 
 he took an old china saucer himself 
 had in his cupboard, and off he set, 
 without saying a word to anybody, to 
 the fair. You may easily imagine that 
 it created no small surprise in the place 
 when they heard a great big fellow 
 with a china saucer in his hand crying 
 out : * A raal chaney saucer going for a 
 hundred pieces of goold ! raal chaney 
 — who'll be buying ? ' 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 159 
 
 * Erra, what's that you're saying, you 
 great gomeril?' says a man, coming 
 up to him, and looking first at the 
 saucer and then in his face. *Is it 
 thinking anybody would go make a 
 viuthaim of himself to give the like for 
 that saucer ? ' But Owney-na-peak had 
 no answer to make, only to cry out : 
 * Raal chaney ! one hundred pieces of 
 goold ! ' 
 
 A crowd soon collected about him, 
 and finding he would give no account 
 of himself, they all fell upon him, beat 
 him within an inch of his life, and after 
 having satisfied themselves upon him, 
 they went their way laughing and 
 shouting. Towards sunset he got up, 
 and crawled home as well as he could, 
 without cup or money. As soon as 
 Owney saw him, he helped him into 
 the forge, looking very mournful, 
 although, if the truth must be told, 
 it was to revenge himself for former 
 good deeds of his cousin that he set 
 him about this foolish business. 
 
i6o IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * Come here, Owney, eroo/ said his 
 cousin, after he had fastened the forge 
 door and heated two irons in the fire. 
 ^ You child of mischief ! ' said he, when 
 he had caught him, *you shall never 
 see the fruits of your roguery again, for 
 -I will put out your eyes.' And so 
 saying he snatched one of the red-hot 
 irons from the fire. 
 
 It was all in vain for poor Owney to 
 throw himself on his knees, and ask 
 mercy, and beg and implore forgive- 
 ness ; he was weak, and Owney- na- 
 peak was strong; he held him fast, 
 and burned out both his eyes. Then 
 taking him, while he was yet fainting 
 from the pain, upon his back, he 
 carried him off to the bleak hill of 
 Knockpatrick,! a great distance, and 
 there laid him under a tombstone, and 
 
 1 A hill in the west of the County of 
 Limerick, on the summit of which are the 
 ruins of an old church, with a burying-ground 
 still in use. The situation is exceedingly 
 singular and bleak. 
 
OIVNBY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK i6i 
 
 went his ways. In a little time after, 
 Owney came to himself. 
 
 * O sweet light of day ! what is to 
 become of me now?' thought the 
 poor lad, as he lay on his back under 
 the tomb. * Is this to be the fruit of 
 that unhappy present? Must I be 
 dark for ever and ever? and am I 
 never more to look upon that sweet 
 countenance, that even in my blind- 
 ness is not entirely shut out from me ? ' 
 He would have said a great deal more 
 in this way, and perhaps more pathetic 
 still, but just then he heard a great 
 mewing, as if all the cats in the world 
 were coming up the hill together in 
 one faction. He gathered himself up, 
 and drew back under the stone, and 
 remained quite still, expecting what 
 would come next. In a very short 
 time he heard all the cats purring and 
 mewing about the yard, whisking over 
 the tombstones, and playing all sorts of 
 pranks among the graves. He felt the 
 tails of one or two brush his nose ; and 
 
 M 
 
i62 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 well for him it was that they did not 
 discover him there, as he afterwards 
 found. At last — 
 
 * Silence ! ' said one of the cats, 
 and they were all as mute as so many 
 mice in an instant. 'Now, all you 
 cats of this great county, small and 
 large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, 
 mottled, and white, attend to what I'm 
 going to tell you in the name of your 
 king and the master of all the cats. 
 The sun is down, and the moon is up, 
 and the night is silent, and no mortal 
 hears us, and I may tell you a secret. 
 You know the king of Munster's 
 daughter ? ' 
 
 * O yes, to be sure, and why wouldn't 
 we ? Go on with your story,' said all 
 the cats together. 
 
 * I have heard of her for one,' said 
 a little dirty-faced black cat, speaking 
 after they had all done, *for I'm the 
 cat that sits upon the hob of Owney 
 and Owney -na- peak, the whitesmiths, 
 and I know many's the time young 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAIC 163 
 
 Owney does be talking of her, when he 
 sits by the fire alone, rubbing me down 
 and planning how he can get into her 
 father's court.' 
 
 * Whist, you natural ! ' says the cat 
 that was making the speech, * what do 
 you think we care for your Owney, or 
 Owney-na-peak ? ' 
 
 *Murther, murther!' thinks Owney 
 to himself, *did anybody ever hear 
 the aiqual of this ? ' 
 
 *Well, gentlemen,' says the cat 
 again, 'what I have to say is this. 
 The king was last week struck with 
 blindness, and you all know well, how 
 and by what means any blindness may 
 be cured. You know there is no dis- 
 order that can ail mortal frame, that 
 may not be removed by praying a 
 round at the well of Barrygowen^ 
 
 ^ The practice of praying rounds, with the 
 view of healing diseases, at Barrygowen well, 
 in the County of Limerick, is still continued, 
 notwithstanding the exertions of the neighbour- 
 ing Catholic priesthood, which have diminished, 
 but not abolished it. 
 
i64 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 yonder, and the king's disorder is such, 
 that no other cure whatever can be 
 had for it. Now, beware, don't let the 
 secret pass one o' yer lips, for there's a 
 great-grandson of Simon Magus, that 
 is coming down to try his skill, and he 
 it is that must use the water and 
 marry the princess, who is to be given 
 to any one so fortunate as to heal her 
 father's eyes ; and on that day, gentle- 
 men, we are all promised a feast of 
 the fattest mice that ever walked the 
 ground.' This speech was wonderfully 
 applauded by all the cats, and presently 
 after, the whole crew scampered off, 
 jumping, and mewing, and purring, 
 down the hill. 
 
 Owney, being sensible that they were 
 all gone, came from his hiding-place, 
 and knowing the road to Barrygowen 
 well, he set off, and groped his way 
 out, and shortly knew, by the rolling 
 of the waves,^ coming in from the point 
 of Foynes, that he was near the place. 
 ^ Of the Shannon. 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 165 
 
 He got to the well, and making a 
 round like a good Christian, rubbed 
 his eyes with the well-water, and look- 
 ing up, saw day dawning in the east. 
 Giving thanks, he jumped up on his 
 feet, and you may say that Owney-na- 
 peak was much astonished on opening 
 the door of the forge to find him there, 
 his eyes as well or better than ever, 
 and his face as merry as a dance. 
 
 *Well, cousin,' said Owney, smiling, 
 * you have done me the greatest service 
 that one man can do another; you 
 put me in the way of getting two pieces 
 of gold,' said he, showing two he had 
 taken from his hiding-place. ^ If you 
 could only bear the pain of suffering 
 me just to put out your eyes, and lay 
 you in the same place as you laid me, 
 who knows what luck you'd have ? ' 
 
 * No, there's no occasion for putting 
 out eyes at all, but could not you lay 
 me, just as I am, to-night, in that place, 
 and let me try my own fortune, if it be 
 a thing you tell thruth ; and what else 
 
i66 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 could put the eyes in your head, after 
 I burning them out with the irons ? ^ 
 
 * You'll know all that in time/ says 
 Owney, stopping him in his speech, 
 for just at that minute, casting his eye 
 towards the hob, he saw the cat sitting 
 upon it, and looking very hard at him. 
 So he made a sign to Owney-na-peak 
 to be silent, or talk of something else ; 
 at which the cat turned away her eyes, 
 and began washing her face, quite 
 simple, with her two paws, looking 
 now and then sideways into Owney's 
 face, just like a Christian. By and by, 
 when she had walked out of the forge, 
 he shut the door after her, and finished 
 what he was going to say, which made 
 Owney-na-peak still more anxious than 
 before to be placed under the tomb- 
 stone. Owney agreed to it very readily, 
 and just as they were done speaking, 
 cast a glance towards the forge window, 
 where he saw the imp of a cat, just 
 with her nose and one eye peeping 
 in through a broken pane. He said 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 167 
 
 nothing, however, but prepared to 
 carry his cousin to the place; where, 
 towards nightfall, he laid him as he 
 had been laid himself, snug under the 
 tombstone, and went his way down the 
 hill, resting in Shanagolden that night, 
 to see what would come of it in the 
 morning. 
 
 Owney-na-peak had not been more 
 than two or three hours or so lying 
 down, when he heard the very same 
 noises coming up the hill, that had 
 puzzled Owney the night before. See- 
 ing the cats enter the churchyard, he 
 began to grow very uneasy, and strove to 
 hide himself as well as he could, which 
 was tolerably well too, all being covered 
 by the tombstone excepting part of 
 the nose, which was so long that he 
 could not get it to fit by any means. 
 You may say to yourself, that he was 
 not a little surprised, when he saw the 
 cats all assemble like a congregation 
 going to hear mass, some sitting, some 
 walking about, and asking one another 
 
i68 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 after the kittens and the like, and more 
 of them stretching themselves upon the 
 tombstones, and waiting the speech of 
 their commander. 
 
 Silence was proclaimed at length, and 
 he spoke : * Now all you cats of this 
 great county, small and large, gray, 
 red, yellow, black, brown, mottled, or 
 white, attend ' 
 
 * Stay ! stay ! ' said a little cat with 
 a dirty face, that just then came running 
 into the yard. *Be silent, for there 
 are mortal ears listening to what you 
 say. I have run hard and fast to say 
 that your words were overheard last 
 night. I am the cat that sits upon 
 the hob of Owney and Owney-na-peak, 
 and I saw a bottle of the water of 
 Barrygowen hanging up over the 
 chimbley this morning in their house/ 
 
 In an instant all the cats began 
 screaming, and mewing, and flying, as 
 if they were mad, about the yard, 
 searching every corner, and peeping 
 under every tombstone. Poor Owney- 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 169 
 
 na-peak endeavoured as well as he could 
 to hide himself from them, and began 
 to thump his breast and cross him- 
 self, but it was all in vain, for 
 one of the cats saw the long nose 
 peeping from under the stone, and in 
 a minute they dragged him, roaring 
 and bawling, into the very middle of 
 the churchyard, where they flew upon 
 him all together, and made smithereens 
 of him, from the crown of his head to 
 the soles of his feet. 
 
 The next morning very early, young 
 Owney came to the churchyard, to see 
 what had become of his cousin. He 
 called over and over again upon his 
 name, but there was no answer given. 
 At last, entering the place of tombs, he 
 found his limbs scattered over the earth. 
 
 * So that is the way with you, is it ? ' 
 said he, clasping his hands, and looking 
 down on the bloody fragments ; * why 
 then, though you were no great things 
 in the way of kindness to me when 
 your bones were together, that isn't 
 
170 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 the reason why I'd be glad to see 
 them torn asunder this morning early.* 
 So gathering up all the pieces that he 
 could find, he put them into a bag he 
 had with him, and away with him to 
 the well of Barrygowen, where he lost 
 no time in making a round, and 
 throwing them in, all in a heap. In 
 an instant, he saw Owney-na-peak as 
 well as ever, scrambling out of the 
 well, and helping him to get up, he 
 asked him how he felt himself. 
 
 * Oh ! is it how I'd feel myself you'd 
 want to know ? ' said the other ; * easy 
 and I'll tell you. Take that for a 
 specimen ! ' giving him at the same 
 time a blow on the head, which you 
 may say wasn't long in laying Owney 
 sprawling on the ground. Then with- 
 out giving him a minute's time to 
 recover, he thrust him into the very 
 bag from which he had been just 
 shaken himself, resolving within him- 
 self to drown him in the Shannon at 
 once, and put an end to him for ever. 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 171 
 
 Growing weary by the way, he 
 stopped at a shebeen house over- 
 right Robertstown Castle, to refresh 
 himself with a mornings before he'd 
 go any farther. Poor Owney did not 
 know what to do when he came to 
 himself, if it might be rightly called 
 coming to himself, and the great bag 
 tied up about him. His wicked cousin 
 shot him down behind the door in the 
 kitchen, and telling him he'd have his 
 life surely if he stirred, he walked in 
 to take something that's good in the 
 little parlour. 
 
 Owney could not for the life of him 
 avoid cutting a hole in the bag, -to 
 have a peep about the kitchen, and 
 see whether he had no means of escape. 
 He could see only one person, a simple- 
 looking man, who was counting his 
 beads in the chimney-corner, and now 
 and then striking his breast, and look- 
 ing up as if he was praying greatly. 
 
 *Lord,' says he, *only give me 
 death, death, and a favourable judg- 
 
172 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 ment ! I haven't anybody now to look 
 after, nor anybody to look after me. 
 What's a few tinpennies to save a 
 man from want ? Only a quiet grave 
 is all I ask.' 
 
 * Murther, murther ! ' says Owney 
 to himself, * here's a man wants death 
 and can't have it, and here am I going 
 to have it, and, in troth, I don't want 
 it at all, see.' So, after thinking a 
 little what he had best do, he began to 
 sing out very merrily, but lowering his 
 voice, for fear he should be heard in 
 the next room : 
 
 * To him that tied me here, 
 
 Be thanks and praises given ! 
 I'll bless him night and day, 
 
 For packing me to heaven. 
 Of all the roads you'll name, 
 
 He surely will not lag, 
 Who takes his way to heaven 
 
 By travelling in a bag ! ' 
 
 *To heaven, ershtshin}^'^ said the 
 man in the chimney-comer, opening 
 
 ^ Does he say ? 
 
OWNEV AND OWNEY'NA'PEAK 173 
 
 his mouth and his eyes ; * why then, 
 you^d be doing a Christian turn, if you'd 
 take a neighbour with you, that's tired 
 of this bad and villainous world.' 
 
 * You're a fool, you're a fool ! ' said 
 Owney. 
 
 *I know I am, at least so the 
 neighbours always tell me — but what 
 hurt ? Maybe I have a Christian soul 
 as well as another ; and fool or no fool, 
 in a bag or out of a bag, I'd be glad 
 and happy to go the same road it is 
 you are talking of.' 
 
 After seeming to make a great 
 favour of it, in order to allure him the 
 more to the bargain, Owney agreed to 
 put him into the bag instead of himself ; 
 and cautioning him against saying a 
 word, he was just going to tie him, 
 when he was touched with a little 
 remorse for going to have the innocent 
 man's life taken : and seeing a slip of 
 a pig that was killed the day before, in 
 a corner, hanging up, the thought 
 struck him that it would do just as 
 
174 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 well to put it in the bag in their place. 
 No sooner said than done, to the great 
 surprise of the natural, he popped the 
 pig into the bag and tied it up. 
 
 * Now,^ says he, * my good friend, go 
 home, say nothing, but bless the name 
 in heaven for saving your life; and you 
 were as near losing it this morning as 
 ever man was that didn't know.' 
 
 They left the house together. Pre- 
 sently out comes Owney-na-peak, very 
 hearty ; and being so, he was not able 
 to perceive the difference in the 
 contents of the bag, but hoisting it 
 upon his back, he sallied out of the 
 house. Before he had gone far, he 
 came to the rock of Foynes, from the 
 top of which he flung his burden into 
 the salt waters. 
 
 Away he went home, and knocked 
 at the door of the forge, which was 
 opened to him by Owney. You may 
 fancy him to yourself crossing and 
 blessing himself over and over again, 
 when he saw, as he thought, the ghost 
 
OWNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 175 
 
 Standing before him. But Owney 
 looked very merry, and told him not 
 to be afraid. *You did many is the 
 •good turn in your life,' says he, *but 
 the equal of this never.' So he up 
 and told him that he found the finest 
 place in the world at the bottom of the 
 waters, and plenty of money. *See 
 these four pieces for a specimen,' 
 showing him some he had taken from 
 his own hiding hole: *what do you 
 think of that for a story ? ' 
 
 * Why then that it's a droll one, no 
 less ; sorrow bit av I wouldn't have a 
 mind to try my luck in the same way ; 
 how did you come home here before 
 me that took the straight road, and 
 didn't stop for so much as vay gusthah^ 
 since I left Knockpatrick ? ' 
 
 *0h, there's a short cut under the 
 waters,' said Owney. * Mind and only 
 be civil while you're in Thiernaoge,^ 
 and you'll make a sight o' money.' 
 
 ^ Literally— wj//^ in. 
 ^ The abode of the fairies. 
 
176 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Well became Owney, he thrust his 
 cousin into the bag, tied it about him, 
 and putting it into a car that was 
 returning after leaving a load of oats, 
 at a corn-store in the city, it was not 
 long before he was at Foynes again. 
 Here he dismounted, and going to 
 the rock, he was, I am afraid, half 
 inclined to start his burden into the 
 wide water, when he saw a small skiff 
 making towards the point. He hailed 
 her, and learned that she was about 
 to board a great vessel from foreign 
 parts, that was sailing out of the river. 
 So he went with his bag on board, 
 and making his bargain with the captain 
 of the ship, he left Owney-na-peak along 
 with the crew, and never was troubled 
 with him after, from that day to this. 
 
 As he was passing by Barrygowen 
 well, he filled a bottle with the water ; 
 and going home, he bought a fine 
 suit of clothes with the rest of the 
 money he had buried, and away he 
 set off in the morning to the city of 
 
OIVNEY AND OWNEY-NA-PEAK 177 
 
 Lumneach. He walked through the 
 town, admiring everything he saw, 
 until he came before the palace of 
 ^he king. Over the gates of this he 
 saw a number of spikes, with a head 
 of a man stuck upon each, grinning 
 in the sunshine. 
 
 Not at all daunted, he knocked very 
 boldly at the gate, which was opened 
 by one of the guards of the palace. 
 
 * Well ! who are you, friend ? ' 
 
 *I am a great doctor thafs come 
 from foreign parts to cure the king's 
 eyesight. Lead me to his presence 
 this minute.' 
 
 *Fair and softly,' said the soldier. 
 
 * Do you see all those heads that are 
 stuck up there ? Yours is very likely 
 to be keeping company by them, if 
 you are so foolish as to come inside ■ 
 these walls. They are the heads of 
 all the doctors in the land who came 
 before you; and that's what makes 
 the town so fine and healthy this time 
 past, praised be Heaven for the same!' 
 
 N 
 
178 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * Don^t be talking, you great gomeril,' 
 says Owney; 'only bring me to the 
 king at once.' 
 
 He was brought before the king.. 
 After being warned of his fate if he 
 should fail to do all that he undertook, 
 the place was made clear of all but a 
 few guards, and Owney was informed 
 once more, that if he should restore 
 the king's eyes, he should wed with 
 the princess, and have the crown after 
 her father's death. This put him in 
 great spirits, and after making a round 
 upon his bare knees about the bottle, 
 he took a little of the water, and rubbed 
 it into the king's eyes. In a minute 
 he jumped up from his throne and 
 looked about him as well as ever. 
 He ordered Owney to be dressed out 
 like a king's son, and sent word to 
 his daughter that she should receive 
 him that instant for her husband. 
 
 You may say to yourself that the 
 princess, glad as she was of her father's 
 recovery, did not like this message. 
 
OWNEV AND OWNEY'NA'PEAK 179 
 
 Small blame to her, when it is con- 
 sidered that she never set her eyes 
 upon the man himself. However, her 
 mind was changed wonderfully when 
 he was brought before her, covered 
 with gold and diamonds, and all sorts 
 of grand things. Wishing, however, 
 to know whether he had as good a 
 wit as he had a person, she told him 
 that he should give her, on the next 
 morning, ail answer to two questions, 
 otherwise ' she would not hold him 
 worthy of her hand. Owney bowed, 
 and she put the questions as follows : 
 
 * What is that which is the sweetest 
 thing in the world ? * 
 
 ' What are the three most beautiful 
 objects in the creation ? * 
 
 These were puzzling questions ; but 
 Owney having a small share of brains 
 of his own, was not long in forming 
 an opinion upon the matter. He was 
 very impatient for the morning ; but 
 it came just as slow and regular as if 
 he were not in the world. In a short 
 
i8o IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 time he was summoned to the court- 
 yard, where all the nobles of the land 
 assembled, with flags waving, and 
 trumpets sounding, and all manner of 
 glorious doings going on. The princess 
 was placed on a throne of gold near 
 her father, and there was a beautiful 
 carpet spread for Owney to stand 
 upon while he answered her questions. 
 After the trumpets were silenced, she 
 put the first, with a clear sweet voice, 
 and he replied : 
 
 * It's salt ! ' says he, very stout, out. 
 There was a great applause at the 
 
 answer; and the princess owned, 
 smiling, that he had judged right. 
 
 * But now,' said she, * for the second. 
 What are the three most beautiful 
 things in the creation ? ' 
 
 *Why,' answered the young man, 
 * here they are. A ship in full sail — 
 a field of wheat in ear — and ' 
 
 What the third most beautiful thing 
 was, all the people didn't hear; but 
 there was a great blushing and laughing 
 
OWNEV AND OWNEY'NA'PEAK i8i 
 
 among the ladies, and the princess 
 smiled and nodded at him, quite 
 pleased with his wit. Indeed, many 
 said that the judges of the land them- 
 selves could not have answered better, 
 had they been in Owney's place ; nor 
 could there be anywhere found a more 
 likely or well-spoken young man. He 
 was brought first to the king, who 
 took him in his arms, and presented 
 him to the princess. She could not 
 help acknowledging to herself that his 
 understanding was quite worthy of his 
 handsome person. Orders being im- 
 mediately given for the marriage to 
 proceed, they w^ere made one with all 
 speed; and it is said, that before 
 another year came round, the fair 
 princess was one of the most beautiful 
 objects in the creation. 
 
KINGS AND WARRIORS 
 
THE 
 KNIGHTING OF CUCULAINi 
 
 By Standish O'Grady 
 
 |NE night in the month of 
 the fires of Bel, Cathvah, 
 the Druid and star-gazer, 
 was observing the heavens 
 through his astrological instruments. 
 Beside him was Cuculain, just then 
 completing his sixteenth year. Since 
 the exile of Fergus MacRoy, Cuculain 
 had attached himself most to the Ard- 
 Druid, and delighted to be along with 
 him in his studies and observations. 
 
 ^ Cuculain was the great hero of legendar)' 
 Ireland. 
 
i86 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Suddenly the old man put aside his 
 instruments and meditated a long time 
 in silence. 
 
 *Setanta,' said he at length, *art 
 thou yet sixteen years of age ? ' 
 
 * No, father,* replied the boy. 
 
 * It will then be difficult to persuade 
 the king to knight thee and enrol thee 
 among his knights,* said Cathvah. 
 *Yet this must be done to-morrow, 
 for it has been revealed to me that 
 he whom Concobar MacNessa shall 
 present with arms to-morrow, will be 
 renowned to the most distant ages, 
 and to the ends of the earth. Thou 
 shalt be presented with arms to-morrow, 
 and after that thou mayest retire for 
 a season among thy comrades, nor 
 go out among the warriors until thy 
 strength is mature.' 
 
 The next day Cathvah procured the 
 king's consent to the knighting of 
 Cuculain. Now on the same morning, 
 one of his grooms came to Concobar 
 MacNessa and said : * O chief of the 
 
KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN 187 
 
 Red Branch, thou knowest how no 
 horse has eaten barley, or ever occupied 
 the stall where stood the divine steed 
 which, with another of mortal breed, 
 in the days of Kimbay MacFiontann, 
 was accustomed to bear forth to the 
 battle the great war -queen, Macha 
 Monga-Rue; but ever since that stall 
 has been empty, and no mortal steed 
 hath profaned the stall in which the 
 deathless Lia Macha was wont to 
 stand. Yet, O Concobar, as I passed 
 into the great stables on the east side 
 of the courtyard, wherein are the steeds 
 of thy own ambus, and in which is that 
 spot since held sacred, I saw in the 
 empty stall a mare, gray almost to 
 whiteness, and of a size and beauty 
 such as I have never seen, wha turned 
 to look upon me as I entered the 
 stable, having very gentle eyes, but 
 such as terrified me, so that I let fall 
 the vessel in which I was bearing curds 
 for the steed of Konaul Clareena ; and 
 she approached me, and laid her head 
 
i88 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 upon my shoulder, making a strange 
 noise.' 
 
 Now as the groom was thus speak- 
 ing, Cowshra Mend Macha, a younger 
 son of Concobar, came before the 
 king, and said : * Thou knowest, O my 
 father, that house in which is preserved 
 the chariot of Kimbay MacFiontann, 
 wherein he and she, whose name I 
 bear, the great queen that protects 
 our nation, rode forth to the wars in 
 the ancient days, and how it has been 
 preserved ever since, and that it is 
 under my care to keep bright and 
 clean. Now this day at sunrise I 
 approached the house, as is my custom, 
 and approaching, I heard dire voices, 
 clamorous and terrible, that came from 
 within, and noises like the noise of 
 battle, and shouts as of warriors in 
 the agony of the conflict, that raise 
 their voices with short intense cries 
 as they ply their weapons, avoiding 
 or inflicting death. Then I went back 
 terrified, but there met me Minrowar, 
 
KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN 189 
 
 son of Gerkin, for he came but last 
 night from Moharne, in the east, and 
 he went to look at his own steeds; 
 but together we opened the gate of 
 the chariot -house, and the bronze of 
 the chariot burned like glowing fire, 
 and the voices cried out in acclaim, 
 when we stood in the doorway, and 
 the light streamed into the dark 
 chamber. Doubtless, a great warrior 
 will appear amongst the Red Branch, 
 for men say that not for a hundred 
 years have these voices been heard, 
 and I know not for whom Macha 
 sends these portents, if it be not for 
 the son of Sualtam, though he is not 
 yet of an age to bear arms.' 
 
 Thus was Concobar prepared for 
 the knighting of Cuculain. 
 
 Then in the presence of his court, 
 and his warriors, and the youths who 
 were the comrades and companions 
 of Cuculain, Concobar presented the 
 young hero with his weapons of war, 
 after he had taken the vows of the 
 
I90 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Red Branch, and having also bound 
 himself by certain gaesa.^ But Cuculain 
 looked narrowly upon the weapons, 
 and he struck the spears together and 
 clashed the sword upon the shield, and 
 he brake the spears in pieces, and the 
 sword, and made chasms in the shield. 
 
 * These are not good weapons, O 
 my King,' said the boy. 
 
 Then the king presented him with 
 others that were larger and stronger, 
 and these too the boy brake into 
 little pieces. 
 
 * These are still worse, O son of 
 Nessa,' said the boy, 'and it is not 
 seemly, O chief of the Red Branch, 
 that on the day that I am to receive 
 my arms I should be made a laughing- 
 stock before the Clanna Rury, being 
 yet but a boy.' 
 
 But Concobar MacNessa exulted 
 exceedingly when he beheld the amaz- 
 
 ^ Curious vows taken by the ancient warriors. 
 Hardly anything definite is known of them. 
 —Ed. 
 
KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN 191 
 
 ing Strength and the waywardness of 
 the boy, and beneath delicate brows 
 his eyes glittered like gleaming swords 
 as he glanced rapidly round on the 
 crowd of martial men that surrounded 
 him ; but amongst them all he seemed 
 himself a bright torch of valour and 
 war, more pure and clear than polished 
 steel. But he beckoned to one of 
 his knights, who hastened away and 
 returned, bringing Concobar's own 
 shield and spears and the sword out 
 of the Tayta Brae, where they were 
 kept, an equipment in reserve. And 
 Cuculain shook them and bent them, 
 and clashed them together, but they 
 held firm. 
 
 * These are good arms, O son of 
 Nessa,' said Cuculain. 
 
 Then there were led forward a pair 
 of noble steeds and a war -car, and 
 the king conferred them on Cuculain. 
 Then Cuculain sprang into the chariot, 
 and standing with legs apart, he stamped 
 from side to side, and shook and shook, 
 
192 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 and jolted the car until the axle brake 
 and the car itself was broken in pieces. 
 
 * This is not a good chariot, O my 
 King/ said the boy. 
 
 Then there were led forward three 
 chariots, and all these he brake in 
 succession. 
 
 * These are not good chariots, O chief 
 of the Red Branch,' said Cuculain. *No 
 brave warrior would enter the battle or 
 fight from such rotten foothold.' 
 
 Then the king called to his son 
 Cowshra Mead Macha and bade him 
 take Lseg, and harness to the war- 
 chariot, of which he had the care, 
 the wondrous gray steed, and that one 
 which had been given him by Kelkar, 
 the son of Uther, and to give Laeg a 
 charioteering equipment, to be chariot- 
 eers of Cuculain. For now it was 
 apparent to all the nobles and to the 
 king that a lion of war had appeared 
 amongst them, and that it was for 
 him Macha had sent these omens. 
 
 Then Cuculain's heart leaped in his 
 
KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN 193 
 
 breast when he heard the thunder of 
 the great war-car and the mad whinny- 
 ing of the horses that smelt the battle 
 afar. Soon he beheld them with his 
 eyes, and the charioteer with the golden 
 fillet of his office, erect in the car, 
 struggling to subdue their fury. A 
 gray, long-maned steed, whale -bellied, 
 broad-chested, behind one yoke; a 
 black, ugly-maned steed behind the 
 other. 
 
 Like a hawk swooping along the 
 face of a cliff when the wind is high, 
 or like the rush of the March wind 
 over the plain, or like the fleetness of 
 the stag roused from his lair by the 
 hounds and covering his first field, 
 was the rush of those steeds when they 
 had broken through the restraint of 
 the charioteer, as though they galloped 
 over fiery flags, so that the earth shook 
 and trembled with the velocity of their 
 motion, and all the time the great car 
 brayed and shrieked as the wheels of 
 solid and glittering bronze went round, 
 o 
 
194 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 for there were demons that had their 
 abode in that car. 
 
 The charioteer restrained the steeds 
 before the assembly, but nay-the-less a 
 deep pur, Uke the pur of a tiger, pro- 
 ceeded from the axle. Then the 
 whole assembly lifted up their voices 
 and shouted for Cuculain, and he 
 himself, Cuculain the son of Sualtam, 
 sprang into his chariot, all armed, with 
 a cry as of a warrior springing into his 
 chariot in the battle, and he stood 
 erect and brandished his spears, and 
 the war -sprites of the Gaeil shouted 
 along with them, to the Bocanahs and 
 Bananahs and the Genitii Glindi, the 
 wild people of the glens, and the 
 demons of the air, roared around him, 
 when first the great warrior of the 
 Gseil, his battle-arms in his hands, stood 
 equipped for war in his chariot before 
 all the warriors of his tribe, the kings 
 of the Clanna Rury, and the people of 
 Emain Macha. 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER OF 
 DULEEK GATE 
 
 By Samuel Lover 
 
 |0U see, there was a waiver 
 lived, wanst upon a time, 
 in Duleek here, hard by 
 the gate, and a very honest, 
 industherous man he was, by all 
 accounts. He had a wife, and av 
 coorse they had childhre, and small 
 blame to them, and plenty of them, so 
 that the poor little waiver was obleeged 
 to work his fingers to the bone a'most 
 to get them the bit and the sup ; but 
 he didn't begridge that, for he was an 
 industherous craythur, as I said before. 
 
196 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 and it was up airly and down late with 
 him, and the loom never standin* still. 
 Well, it was one mornin' that his wife 
 called to him, and he sitting very 
 busy throwin^ the shuttle ; and says she, 
 *Come here,' says she, * jewel, and 
 ate your brekquest, now that it's ready.' 
 But he never minded her, but wint an 
 workin'. So in a minit or two more, 
 says she, callin' out to him agin, * Arrah, 
 lave off slavin' yourself, my darlin', and 
 ate your bit o' brekquest while it is 
 hot.' 
 
 *Lave me alone,' says he, and he 
 dhruv the shuttle fasther nor before. 
 
 Well, in a little time more, she goes 
 over to him where he sot, and says she, 
 coaxin' him like, *Thady, dear,' says 
 she, * the stirabout will be stone cowld 
 if you don't give over that weary work 
 and come and ate it at wanst.' 
 
 ' I'm busy with a patthern here that 
 is brakin' my heart,' says the waiver; 
 ' and antil I complate it and masther 
 it intirely I won't quit.' 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 197 
 
 *0h, think o' the iligant stirabout, 
 that 'ill be spylte intirely.' 
 
 'To the divil with the stirabout,' 
 says he. 
 
 *God forgive you,' says she, *for 
 cursin' your good brekquest.' 
 
 * Ay, and you too,' says he. 
 
 *Throth, you're as cross as two 
 sticks this blessed morning, Thady,' 
 says the poor wife; *and it's a heavy 
 handful I have of you when you are 
 cruked in your temper ; but stay there 
 if you Hke, and let your stirabout grow 
 cowld, and not a one o' me 'ill ax you 
 agin ; ' and with that off she wint, and 
 the waiver, sure enough, was mighty 
 crabbed, and the more the wife spoke 
 to him the worse he got, which, you 
 know, is only nath'ral. Well, he left 
 the loom at last, and wint over to the 
 stirabout, and what would you think 
 but whin he looked at it, it was as 
 black as a crow ; for, you see, it was 
 in the hoighth o' summer, and the 
 flies lit upon it to that degree that 
 
198 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 the Stirabout was fairly covered with 
 them. 
 
 * Why, thin, bad luck to your 
 impidence,' says the waiver ; * would 
 no place sarve you but that? and is 
 it spyling my brekquest yiz are, you 
 dirty bastes?' And with that, bein* 
 altogether cruked-tempered at the time, 
 he lifted his hand, and he made one 
 great slam at the dish o' stirabout, and 
 killed no less than three score and tin 
 flies at the one blow. It was three 
 score and tin exactly, for he counted 
 the carcasses one by one, and laid 
 them out on a clane plate, for to 
 view them. 
 
 Well, he felt a powerful sperit risin' 
 in him, when he seen the slaughther 
 he done, at one blow ; and with that 
 he got as consaited as the very dickens, 
 and not a sthroke more work he'd do 
 that day, but out he wint, and was 
 fractious and impident to every one he 
 met, and was squarin' up into their 
 faces and sayin', * Look at that fist ! 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 199 
 
 that's the fist that killed three score 
 and tin at one blow — Whoo ! ' 
 
 With that all the neighbours thought 
 he was crack'd, and faith, the poor 
 wife herself thought the same when he 
 kem home in the evenin', afther spendin' 
 every rap he had in dhrink, and 
 swaggerin' about the place, and lookin* 
 at his hand every minit. 
 
 * Indeed, an' your hand is very 
 dirty, sure enough, Thady jewel,' says 
 the poor wife ; and thrue for her, for 
 he rowled into a ditch comin' home. 
 * You had betther wash it, darlin'.' 
 
 *How dar' you say dirty to the 
 greatest hand in Ireland?' says he, 
 going to bate her. 
 
 * Well, it's nat dirty,' says she. 
 
 * It is throwin' away my time I have 
 been all my life,' says he ; * livin' with 
 you at all, and stuck at a loom, nothin' 
 but a poor waiver, when it is Saint 
 George or the Dhraggin I ought to be, 
 which is two of the siven champions 
 o' Christendom.' 
 
20O IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 *Well, suppose they christened him 
 twice as much/ says the wife; 'sure, 
 what's that to uz ? ' 
 
 * Don't put in your prate,' says he ; 
 * you ignorant sthrap,' says he. * You're 
 vulgar, woman — you're vulgar — mighty 
 vulgar ; but I'll have nothin' more to 
 say to any dirty snakin' thrade again — 
 divil a more waivin' I'll do.' 
 
 *0h, Thady dear, and what'll the 
 children do then ? ' 
 
 * Let them go play marvels,' says he. 
 
 * That would be but poor feedin' for 
 them, Thady.' 
 
 *They shan't want for feedin',' says 
 he ; * for it's a rich man I'll be soon, 
 and a great man too.' 
 
 *Usha, but I'm glad to hear it, 
 darUn', — though I dunna how it's to be, 
 but I think you had betther go to bed, 
 Thady.' 
 
 * Don't talk to me of any bed but 
 the bed o' glory, woman,' says he, 
 lookin' mortial grand. 
 
 * Oh ! God send we'll all be in glory 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 201 
 
 yet,' says the wife, crassin' herself; 
 *but go to sleep, Thady, for this 
 present.' 
 
 * I'll sleep with the brave yit,' says he. 
 
 * Indeed, an' a brave sleep will do 
 you a power o' good, my darlin',' says 
 she. 
 
 * And it's I that will be the knight ! ' 
 says he. 
 
 *A11 night, if you plaze, Thady,' 
 says she. 
 
 *None o' your coaxin',' says he. 
 * I'm detarmined on it, and I'll set off 
 immediantly, and be a knight arriant.' 
 
 * A what ? ' says she. 
 
 * A knight arriant, woman.' 
 
 * Lord, be good to me, what's that ? ' 
 says she. 
 
 * A knight arriant is a rale gintleman,' 
 says he; * going round the world for 
 sport, with a swoord by his side, takih' 
 whatever he plazes for himself; and 
 that's a knight arriant,' says he. 
 
 Well, sure enough he wint about 
 among his neighbours the next day, and 
 
202 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 he got an owld kittle from one, and a 
 saucepan from another; and he took 
 them to the tailor, and he sewed him 
 up a shuit o' tin clothes like any knight 
 arriant and he borrowed a pot lid, and 
 that he was very partic'lar about, bekase 
 it was his shield and he wint to a frind o' 
 his, a painther and glazier, and made him 
 paint an his shield in big letthers — 
 
 <v 
 
 IM THE MAN OF ALL MIN, 
 
 THAT KILLED THREE SCORE AND TIN 
 
 AT A BLOW.' 
 
 'When the people sees that,' says 
 the waiver to himself, *the sorra one 
 will dar' for to come near me.' 
 
 And with that he towld the wife to 
 scour out the small iron pot for him, 
 ' For,' says he, * it will make an iligant 
 helmet ' ; and when it was done, he put 
 it an his head, and his wife said, * Oh, 
 murther, Thady jewel, is it puttin' a 
 great heavy iron pot an your head you 
 are, by way iv a hat ? ' 
 
 *Sartinly,' says he; 'for a knight 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 203 
 
 arraint should always have a weight an 
 his brain^ 
 
 *But, Thady dear,' says the wife, 
 * there's a hole in it, and it can't keep 
 out the weather.' 
 
 *It will be the cooler,' says he, 
 puttin' it an him ; ' besides, if I don't 
 like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp 
 o' sthraw, or the like o' that.' 
 
 *The three legs of it looks mighty 
 quare, stickin' up,' says she. 
 
 'Every helmet has a spike stickin' 
 out o' the top of it,' says the waiver ; 
 *and if mine has three, it's only the 
 grandher it is.' 
 
 * Well,' says the wife, getting bitther 
 at last, *all I can say is, it isn't the 
 first sheep's head was dhress'd in it.' 
 
 * Your sarvint, mcCam^ says he ; and 
 off he set. 
 
 Well, he was in want of a horse, and 
 so he wint to a field hard by, where the 
 miller's horse was grazin', that used 
 to carry the ground corn round the 
 counthry. 
 
204 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 * This is the idintical horse for me,' 
 says the waiver ; * he is used to carryin' 
 flour and male, and what am I but 
 XkiQ flower o^ shovelry in a coato' mail\ 
 so that the horse won't be put out iv 
 his way in the laste.' 
 
 But as he wasridin'himout o' the field, 
 who should see him but the miller. 
 
 * Is it Stalin' my horse you are, honest 
 man ? ' says the miller. 
 
 *No,' says the waiver; 'I'm only 
 goin' to ^A:ercise him,' says he, * in the 
 cool o' the evenin' \ it will be good for 
 his health.' 
 
 * Thank you kindly,' says the miller ; 
 * but lave him where he is, and you'll 
 obleege me.' 
 
 *I can't afford it,' says the waiver, 
 runnin' the horse at the ditch. 
 
 * Bad luck to your impidence,' says 
 the miller ; * you've as much tin about 
 you as a thravellin' tinker, but you've 
 more brass. Come back here, you 
 vagabone,' says he. 
 
 But he was too late ; away galloped 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 205 
 
 the waiver, and took the road to Dublin, 
 for he thought the best thing he could 
 do was to go to the King o* Dublin 
 (for Dublin was a grate place thin, and 
 had a king iv its own), and he thought, 
 maybe, the King o* Dublin would give 
 him work. Well, he was four days 
 goin* to Dublin, for the baste was not 
 the best and the roads worse, not all 
 as one as now; but there was no 
 turnpikes then, glory be to God ! When 
 he got to Dublin, he wint sthrait to the 
 palace, and whin he got into the 
 coortyard he let his horse go and graze 
 about the place, for the grass was 
 growin' out betune the stones ; every- 
 thing was flourishin' thin in Dublin, 
 you see. Well, the king was lookin' 
 out of his dhrawin'-room windy, for 
 divarshin, whin the waiver kem in; 
 but the waiver pretended not to see 
 him, and he wint over to a stone sate, 
 undher the windy — for, you see, there 
 was stone sates all round about the 
 place for the accommodation o' the 
 
2o6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 people — for the king was a dacent, 
 obleeging man; well, as I said, the 
 waiver wint over and lay down an one 
 o' the sates, just undher the king's 
 windy, and purtended to go asleep; 
 but he took care to turn out the front 
 of his shield that had the letthers an 
 it ; well, my dear, with that, the king 
 calls out to one of the lords of his 
 coort that was standin* behind him, 
 howldin' up the skirt of his coat, 
 accordin' to rayson, and says he : * Look 
 here,' says he, * what do you think of 
 a vagabone like that comin' undher 
 my very nose to go sleep ? It is thrue 
 I'm a good king,' says he, *and I 
 'commodate the people by havin' sates 
 for them to sit down and enjoy the 
 raycreation and contimplation of seein' 
 me here, lookin' out a' my dhrawin'- 
 room windy, for divarshin; but that 
 is no rayson they are to make a hotel 
 o' the place, and come and sleep 
 here. Who is it at all?' says the 
 king. 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 207 
 
 * Not a one o' me knows, plaze your 
 majesty.' 
 
 * I think he must be a furriner/ says 
 the king; 'bekase his dhress is out- 
 landish.' 
 
 *And doesn't know manners, more 
 betoken,' says the lord. 
 
 *I'll go down and circumspect him 
 myself,' says the king ; * folly me,' says 
 he to the lord, wavin' his hand at the 
 same time in the most dignacious 
 manner. 
 
 Down he wint accordingly, followed 
 by the lord ; and whin he wint over to 
 where the waiver was lying, sure the 
 first thing he seen was his shield with 
 the big letthers an it, and with that, 
 says he to the lord, * Bedad,' says he, 
 *this is the very man I want.' 
 
 *For what, plaze your majesty?' 
 says the lord. 
 
 * To kill that vagabone dragghin, to 
 be sure,' says the king. 
 
 *Sure, do you think he could kill 
 him,' says the lord, *when all the 
 
2o8 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Stoutest knights in the land wasn't 
 aiquil to it, but never kem back, and 
 was ate up alive by the cruel desaiver.' 
 
 ' Sure, don't you see there,' says the 
 king, pointin' at the shield, ^that he 
 killed three score and tin at one blow ? 
 and the man that done that^ I think, 
 is a match for anything.' 
 
 So, with that, he wint over to the 
 waiver and shuck him by the shouldher 
 for to wake him, and the waiver rubbed 
 his eyes as if just wakened, and the 
 king says to him, * God save you,' said 
 he. 
 
 *God save you kindly,' says the 
 waiver, purtendit^ he was quite 
 onknowst who he was spakin' to. 
 
 * Do you know who I am,' says the 
 king, *that you make so free, good 
 man ? ' 
 
 ' No, indeed,' says the waiver ; * you 
 have the advantage o' me.* 
 
 * To be sure I have,' says the king, 
 nioighty high ; * sure, ain't I the King 
 o' Dublin ? ' says he. 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 209 
 
 The waiver dhropped down an his 
 two knees forninst the king, and says 
 he, ^ I beg God's pardon and yours for 
 the Hberty I tuk ; plaze your holiness, 
 I hope you'll excuse it.' 
 
 *No offince,' says the king; *get 
 up, good man. And what brings you 
 here ? ' says he. 
 
 *rm in want o' work, plaze your 
 riverence,' says the waiver. 
 
 'Well, suppose I give you work?' 
 says the king. 
 
 *ril be proud to sarve you, my 
 lord,' says the waiver. 
 
 'Very well,' says the king. *You 
 killed three score and tin at one blow, 
 I understan',' says the king. 
 
 * Yis,' says* the waiver \ * that was the 
 last thrifle o' work I done, and I'm 
 afeard my hand '11 go out o' practice 
 if I don't get some job to do at wanst.' 
 
 * You shall have a job immediantly,' 
 says the king. * It is not three score 
 and tin or any fine thing like that; 
 it is only a blaguard dhraggin that 
 
210 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 is disturbin' the counthry and ruinatin' 
 my tinanthry wid aitin' their powlthry, 
 and I'm lost for want of eggs,' says the 
 king. 
 
 *Throth, thin, plaze your worship,' 
 says the waiver, *you look as yollow 
 as if you swallowed twelve yolks this 
 minit.* 
 
 *Well, I want this dhraggin to be 
 killed,' says the king. * It will be no 
 throuble in life to you ; and I am only 
 sorry that it isn't betther worth your 
 while, for he isn't worth fearin' at all ; 
 only I must tell you, that he lives in 
 the County Galway, in the middle of a 
 bog, and he has an advantage in that.' 
 
 *0h, I don't value it in the laste,' 
 says the waiver; 'for the last three 
 score and tin I killed was in a soft 
 place. ^ 
 
 * When will you undhertake the job, 
 then ? ' says the king. 
 
 * Let me at him at wanst,' says the 
 waiver. 
 
 * That's what I like,' says the king; 
 
 k 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 211 
 
 * you're the very man for my money,' 
 says he. 
 
 * Talkin' of money,' says the waiver ; 
 ' by the same token, I'll want a thrifle 
 o' change from you for my thravellin' 
 charges/ 
 
 *As much as you plaze,' says the 
 king ; and with the word, he brought 
 him into his closet, where there was 
 an owld stockin' in an oak chest, 
 burstin' wid goolden guineas. 
 
 * Take as many as you plaze,' says 
 the king; and sure enough, my dear, 
 the little waiver stuffed his tin clothes 
 as full as they could howld with them. 
 
 * Now, I'm ready for the road,' says 
 the waiver. 
 
 * Very well,' says the king ; * but you 
 must have a fresh horse,' says he. 
 
 * With all my heart,' says the waiver, 
 who thought he might as well ex- 
 change the miller's owld garron for a 
 betther. 
 
 And maybe it's wondherin' you are 
 that the waiver would think of goin' to 
 
212 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 fight the dhraggin afther what he heerd 
 about him, when he was purtendin' to 
 be asleep, but he had no sitch notion ; 
 all he intended was, — to fob the goold, 
 and ride back again to Duleek with his 
 gains and a good horse. But, you see, 
 cute as the waiver was, the king was 
 cuter still ; for these high quolity, you 
 see, is great desaivers; and so the 
 horse the waiver was put an was larned 
 on purpose; and sure, the minit he 
 was mounted, away powdhered the 
 horse, and the divil a toe he'd go but 
 right down to Galway. Well, for four 
 days he was goin' evermore, until at 
 last the waiver seen a crowd o' people 
 runnin' as if owld Nick was at their 
 heels, and they shoutin' a thousand 
 murdhers and cryin', *The dhraggin, 
 the dhraggin ! ' and he couldn't stop 
 the horse nor make him turn back, but 
 away he pelted right forninst the 
 terrible baste that was comin' up to 
 him, and there was the most nefaarious 
 smell o' sulphur, savin' your presence. 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 213 
 
 enough to knock you down ; and, faith 
 the waiver seen he had no time to lose, 
 and so he threw himself off the horse 
 and made to a three that was growin^ 
 nigh hand, and away he clambered up 
 into it as nimble as a cat ; and not a 
 minit had he to spare, for the dhraggin 
 kem up in a powerful rage, and he 
 devoured the horse body and bones, 
 in less than no time; and then he 
 began to sniffle and scent about for the 
 waiver, and at last he clapt his eye an 
 him, where he was, up in the three, and 
 says he, * In throth, you might as well 
 come down out o* that,' says he ; ^ for 
 I'll have you as sure as eggs is mate.' 
 
 * Divil a fut Til go down,' says the 
 waiver. 
 
 * Sorra care, I care,' says the dhrag- 
 gin; *for you're as good as ready 
 money in my pocket this minit, for 
 I'll lie undher this three,' says he, * and 
 sooner or later you must fall to my 
 share ' ; and sure enough he sot down, 
 and began to pick his teeth with his 
 
214 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 tail, afther the heavy brekquest he 
 made that mornin' (for he ate a whole 
 village, let alone the horse), and he got 
 dhrowsy at last, and fell asleep; but 
 before he wint to sleep, he wound him- 
 self all round about the three, all as one 
 as a lady windin' ribbon round her 
 finger, so that the waiver could not 
 escape. 
 
 Well, as soon as the waiver knew he 
 was dead asleep, by the snorin' of him 
 — and every snore he let out of him 
 was like a clap o' thunder — that minit 
 the waiver began to creep down the 
 three, as cautious as a fox ; and he was 
 very nigh hand the bottom, when, bad 
 cess to it, a thievin' branch he was 
 dipindin' an bruk, and down he fell 
 right a-top o' the dhraggin ; but if he 
 did, good luck was an his side, for 
 where should he fall but with his two 
 legs right acrass the dhraggin's neck, 
 and, my jew'l, he laid howlt o' the 
 haste's ears, and there he kept his grip, 
 for the dhraggin wakened and en- 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 215 
 
 dayvoured for to bite him; but, you 
 see, by rayson the waiver was behind 
 his ears, he could not come at him, 
 and, with that, he endayvoured for to 
 shake him off; but the divil a stir 
 could he stir the waiver; and though 
 he shuk all the scales an his body, he 
 could not turn the scale agin the 
 waiver. 
 
 'By the hokey, this is too bad 
 intirely,' says the dhraggin; *but if 
 you won't let go,' says he, *by the 
 powers o' wildfire, I'll give you a ride 
 that 'ill astonish your siven small sinses, 
 my boy ' ; and, with that, away he flew 
 like mad ; and where do you think he 
 did fly ? — bedad, he flew sthraight for 
 Dublin, divil a less. But the waiver 
 bein' an his neck was a great disthress 
 to him, and he would rather have had 
 him an inside passenger ; but, anyway, 
 he flew and he flew till he kem slap up 
 agin the palace o' the king ; for, bein' 
 blind with the rage, he never seen it, 
 and he knocked his brains out — that 
 
2i6 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 is, the small thrifle he had — and down 
 he fell spacheless. An^ you see, good 
 luck would have it, that the King o' 
 Dublin was lookin' out iv' his dhrawin'- 
 room windy, for divarshin, that day 
 also, and whin he seen the waiver 
 ridin' an the fiery dhraggin (for he was 
 blazin* like a tar-barrel), he called out 
 to his coortyers to come and see the 
 show. * By the powdhers o' war, here 
 comes the knight arriant,' says the 
 king, 'ridin' the dhraggin that's all 
 afire, and if he gets into the palace^ yiz 
 must be ready wid the fire ingines^ 
 says he, *for to put him out.'' But 
 when they seen the dhraggin fall out- 
 side, they all run down -stairs and 
 scampered into the palace-yard for to 
 circumspect the curosity \ and by the 
 time they got down, the waiver had got 
 off o' the dhraggin's neck, and runnin' 
 up to the king, says he, *Plaze your 
 holiness,' says he, *I did not think 
 myself worthy of killin' this facetious 
 baste, so I brought him to yourself for 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 217 
 
 to do him the honour of decripitation 
 by your own royal five fingers. But I 
 tamed him first, before I allowed him 
 the liberty for to dar' to appear in your 
 royal prisince, and you'll oblige me if 
 you'll just make your mark with your 
 own hand upon the onruly haste's 
 neck/ And with that the king, sure 
 enough, dhrew out his swoord and 
 took the head aff the dirty brute as 
 clane as a new pin. Well, there was 
 great rejoicin' in the coort that the 
 dhraggin was killed ; and says the king 
 to the little waiver, says he, ^ You are a 
 knight arriant as it is, and so it would 
 be of no use for to knight you over 
 agin ; but I will make you a lord,' 
 says he. 
 
 * O Lord ! ' says the waiver, thunder- 
 struck like at his own good luck. 
 
 * I will,' says the king ; ' and as you 
 are the first man I ever heer'd tell of 
 that rode a dhraggin, you shall be 
 called Lord Mount Dhraggin,' says he. 
 
 * And Where's my estates, plaze your 
 
2i8 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 holiness ? * says the waiver, who always 
 had a sharp look-out afther the main 
 chance. 
 
 *0h, I didn't forget that/ says the 
 king; *it is my royal pleasure to 
 provide well for you, and for that 
 rayson I make you a present of all the 
 dhraggins in the world, and give you 
 power over them from this out,' says 
 he. 
 
 ' Is that all ? ' says the waiver. 
 
 * All ! ' says the king. * Why, you 
 ongrateful little vagabone, was the like 
 ever given to any man before ? ' 
 
 *I b'lieve not, indeed,' says the 
 waiver ; * many thanks to your majesty.' 
 
 * But that is not all I'll do for you,' 
 says the king; *ril give you my 
 daughther too in marriage,' says he. 
 Now, you see, that was nothin' more 
 than what he promised the waiver in 
 his first promise ; for, by all accounts, 
 the king's daughther was the greatest 
 dhraggin ever was seen, and had the 
 divil's own tongue, and a beard a yard 
 
THE LITTLE WEAVER 219 
 
 long, which she purtended was put an 
 her by way of a penance by Father 
 Mulcahy, her confissor; but it was 
 well known it was in the family for 
 ages, and no wondher it was so long, 
 by rayson of that same. 
 
1 
 
APPENDIX 
 
1 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 1 fl^!*^M 
 
 
 ^5^^^^ 
 
 Si 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF 
 IRISH FAIRIES 
 
 IRISH Fairies divide them- 
 selves into two great classes : 
 the sociable and the solitary. 
 The first arfe in the main 
 
 kindly, and the second full of all un- 
 
 charitableness. 
 
 The Sociable Fairies 
 
 These creatures, who go about in troops, 
 and quarrel, and make love, much as men 
 and women do, are divided into land 
 fairies or Sheoques (Ir. Sidheog, *a little 
 fairy,') and water fairies or Merrows (Ir. 
 Moruadh^ * a sea maid ' ; the masculine is 
 unknown). At the same time I am 
 
224 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 inclined to think that the term Sheoque 
 may be applied to both upon occasion, 
 for I have heard of a whole village 
 turning out to hear two red -capped 
 water fairies, who were very * little fairies ' 
 indeed, play upon the bagpipes. 
 
 I. The Sheoques, — The Sheoques 
 proper, however, are the spirits that 
 haunt the sacred thorn bushes and the 
 green raths. All over Ireland are little 
 fields circled by ditches, and supposed to 
 be ancient fortifications and sheepfolds. 
 These are the raths, or forts, or * royalties,' 
 as they are variously called. Here, 
 marrying and giving in marriage, live 
 the land fairies. Many a mortal they 
 are said to have enticed down into their 
 dim world. Many more have listened to 
 their fairy music, till all human cares 
 and joys drifted from their hearts and 
 they became great peasant seers or * Fairy 
 Doctors,' or great peasant musicians or 
 poets like Carolan, who gathered his 
 tunes while sleeping on a fairy rath ; or 
 else they died in a year and a day, to live 
 ever after among the fairies. These 
 Sheoques are on the whole good; but 
 
IRISH FAIRIES 225 
 
 one most malicious habit have they — 
 a habit worthy of a witch. They steal 
 children and leave a withered fairy, a 
 thousand or maybe two thousand years 
 old, instead. Three or four years ago a 
 man wrote to one of the Irish papers, 
 telling of a case in his own village, and 
 how the parish priest made the fairies 
 deliver the stolen child up again. At 
 times full-grown men and women have 
 been taken. Near the village of 
 Coloney, Sligo, I have been told, lives an 
 old woman who was taken in her youth. 
 When she came home at the end of 
 seven years she had no toes, for she had 
 danced them off. Now and then one hears 
 of some real injury being done a person 
 by the land fairies, but then it is nearly 
 always deserved. They are said to have 
 killed two people in the last six months 
 in the County Down district where I am 
 now staying. But then these persons 
 had torn up thorn bushes belonging to 
 the Sheoques. 
 
 2. The Merrows. — These water fairies 
 are said to be common. I asked a 
 peasant woman once whether the fisher- 
 Q 
 
226 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 men of her village had ever seen one. 
 ^ Indeed, they don't like to see them 
 at all/ she answered, *for they always 
 bring bad weather.' Sometimes the 
 Merrows come out of the sea in the 
 shape of little hornless cows. When in 
 their own shape, they have fishes' tails 
 and wear a red cap called in Irish 
 cohuleen driuth (p. 79). The men among 
 them have, according to Croker, green 
 teeth, green hair, pigs' eyes, and red 
 noses ; but their women are beautiful, 
 and sometimes prefer handsome fisher- 
 men to their green-haired lovers. Near 
 Bantry, in the last century, lived a 
 woman covered with scales like a fish, 
 who was descended, as the story goes, 
 from such a marriage. I have my- 
 self never heard tell of this grotesque 
 appearance of the male Merrows, and 
 think it probably a merely local Munster 
 tradition. 
 
 The Solitary Fairies 
 
 These are nearly all gloomy and 
 terrible in some way. There are, how- 
 
IRISH FAIRIES 227 
 
 ever, some among them who have light 
 hearts and brave attire. 
 
 1. The Lepricaun (Ir. Leith bhrogan^ 
 i,e, the one shoe maker). — This creature 
 is seen sitting under a hedge mending 
 a shoe, and one who catches him can 
 make him deliver up his crocks of gold, 
 for he is a miser of great wealth ; but if 
 you take your eyes off him the creature 
 vanishes like smoke. He is said to be 
 the child of an evil spirit and a debased 
 fairy, and wears, according to Mc Anally, 
 a red coat with seven buttons in each 
 row, and a cocked-hat, on the point of 
 which he sometimes spins like a top. In 
 Donegal he goes clad in a great frieze coat. 
 
 2. The Cluricaun (Ir. Clobhair-cean 
 in O' Kearney). — Some writers consider 
 this to be another name for the Lepricaun, 
 given him when he has laid aside his 
 shoe -making at night and goes on the 
 spree. The Cluricauns' occupations are 
 robbing wine-cellars and riding sheep 
 and shepherds' dogs for a livelong night, 
 until the morning finds them panting and 
 mud-covered. 
 
 3. The Gonconer or Ganconagh (Ir. 
 
228 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 Gean-canogh^ i.e. love-talker). — This is a 
 creature of the Lepricaun type, but, unlike 
 him, is a great idler. He appears in 
 lonely valleys, always with a pipe in his 
 mouth, and spends his time in making 
 love to shepherdesses and milkmaids. 
 
 4. The Far Darrig (Ir. Fear Dearg, 
 i.e. red man). — This is the practical joker 
 of the other world. The wild Sligo story 
 I give of *A Fairy Enchantment' was 
 probably his work. Of these solitary 
 and mainly evil fairies there is no more 
 lubberly wretch than this same Far 
 Darrig. Like the next phantom, he pre- 
 sides over evil dreams. 
 
 5. The Pooka (Ir. Puca^ a word 
 derived by some from poc^ a he-goat). — 
 The Pooka seems of the family of the 
 nightmare. He has most likely never 
 appeared in human form, the one or two 
 recorded instances being probably mis- 
 takes, he being mixed up with the Far 
 Darrig. His shape is usually that of a 
 horse, a bull, a goat, eagle, or ass. His 
 delight is to get a rider, whom he rushes 
 with through ditches and rivers and 
 over mountains, and shakes off in the 
 
IRISH FAIRIES 229 
 
 gray of the morning. Especially does he 
 love to plague a drunkard : a drunkard's 
 sleep is his kingdom. At times he takes 
 more unexpected forms than those of 
 beast or bird. The one that haunts the 
 Dun of Coch-na-Phuca in Kilkenny takes 
 the form of a fleece of wool, and at night 
 rolls out into the surrounding fields, 
 making a buzzing noise that so terrifies 
 the cattle that unbroken colts will run 
 to the nearest man and lay their heads 
 upon his shoulder for protection. 
 
 6. The Dullahan. — This is a most 
 gruesome thing. He has no head, or 
 carries it under his arm. Often he is 
 seen driving a black coach called coach- 
 a- bower (Ir. Coite-bodhar\ drawn by 
 headless horses. It rumbles to your 
 door, and if you open it a basin of blood 
 is thrown in your face. It is an omen 
 of death to the houses where it pauses. 
 Such a coach not very long ago went 
 through Sligo in the gray of the morning, 
 as was told me by a sailor who believed 
 he saw it. In one village I know its 
 rumbling is said to be heard many times 
 in the year. 
 
 I 
 
230 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 7. The Leanhaun Shee (Ir. Lean- 
 haun sidhe^ i.e. fairy mistress). — This spirit 
 seeks the love of men. If they refuse, 
 she is their slave ; if they consent, they 
 are hers, and can only escape by finding 
 one to take their place. Her lovers 
 waste away, for she lives on their life. 
 Most of the Gaelic poets, down to quite 
 recent times, have had a Leanhaun Shee, 
 for she gives inspiration to her slaves and 
 is indeed the Gaelic muse — this malig- 
 nant fairy. Her lovers, the Gaelic poets, 
 died young. She grew restless, and 
 carried them away to other worlds, for 
 death does not destroy her power. 
 
 8. The Far Gorta (man of hunger). 
 — This is an emaciated fairy that goes 
 through the land in famine time, beg- 
 ging and bringing good luck to the 
 giver. 
 
 9. The Banshee (Ir. Bean-sidhe^ />. 
 fairy woman). — This fairy, like the Far 
 Gorta, differs from the general run of 
 solitary fairies by its generally good 
 disposition. She is perhaps not really 
 one of them at all, but a sociable fairy 
 grown solitary through much sorrow. 
 
IRISH FAIRIES 231 
 
 The name corresponds to the less 
 common Far Shee (Ir. Fear Sidhe), a 
 man fairy. She wails, as most people 
 know, over the death of a member of 
 some old Irish family. Sometimes she 
 is an enemy of the house and screams 
 with triumph, but more often a friend. 
 When more than one Banshee comes 
 to cry, the man or woman who is dying 
 must have been very holy or very brave. 
 Occasionally she is most undoubtedly one 
 of the sociable fairies. Cleena, once an 
 Irish princess and then a Munster goddess, 
 and now a Sheoque, is thus mentioned 
 by the greatest of Irish antiquarians. 
 
 O'Donovan, writing in 1 849 to a friend, 
 who quotes his words in the Dublin 
 University Magazine^ says : * When my 
 grandfather died in- Leinster in 1798, 
 Cleena came all the way from Ton Cleena 
 to lament him ; but she has not been 
 heard ever since lamenting any of our 
 race, though I believe she still weeps in 
 the mountains of Drumaleaque in her 
 own country, where so many of the race 
 of Eoghan More are dying of starvation.' 
 The Banshee on the other hand who cries 
 
232 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 with triumph is often believed to be no 
 fairy but a ghost of one wronged by an 
 ancestor of the dying. Some say wrongly 
 that she never goes beyond the seas, 
 but dwells always in her own country. 
 Upon the other hand, a distinguished 
 writer on anthropology assures me that 
 he has heard her on ist December 1867, 
 in Pital, near Libertad, Central America, 
 as he rode through a deep forest. She 
 was dressed in pale yellow, and raised a 
 cry like the cry of a bat. She came to 
 announce the death of his father. This 
 is her cry, written down by him with the 
 help of a Frenchman and a violin. 
 
 i 
 
 -^A 
 
 
 '^^ 
 
 He saw and heard her again on 5th 
 February 1 871, at 16 Devonshire Street, 
 Queen's Square, London. She came this 
 time to announce the death of his eldest 
 child ; and in 1 884 he again saw and heard 
 her at 28 East Street, Queen's Square, 
 the death of his mother being the cause. 
 The Banshee is called dad/t or 5owa 
 
IRISH FAIRIES 233 
 
 in East Munster, and is named Bachuntha 
 by Banim in one of his novels. 
 
 Other Fairies and Spirits. — Besides 
 the foregoing, we have other solitary 
 fairies, of which too little definite is 
 known to give them each a separate men- 
 tion. They are the House Spirits, of 
 whom *Teigue of the Lee' is probably an 
 instance ; the Water Sherie, a kind of 
 will-o'-the-wisp ; the Sowlth, a formless 
 luminous creature ; the Pastha (Piast- 
 bestia\ the lake dragon, a guardian of 
 hidden treasure ; and the Bo men fairies, 
 who live in the marshes of County Down 
 and destroy the unwary. They may be 
 driven away by a blow from a particular 
 kind of sea -weed. I suspect them of 
 being Scotch fairies imported by Scotch 
 settlers. Then there is the great tribe of 
 ghosts called Thivishes in some parts. 
 
 These are all the fairies and spirits 
 I have come across in Irish folklore. 
 There are probably many others undis- 
 covered. 
 
 W. B. Yeats. 
 
 Co. Down, June 1891. 
 
AUTHORITIES ON IRISH 
 FOLKLORE 
 
 jROKER'S Legends of the South 
 of Ireland ; Lady Wilde's 
 Ancient Legends of Ireland^ 
 and Ancient Channs ; Sir 
 William Wilde's Irish Popular Super- 
 stitio7is ; McAnally's Irish Wonders ; 
 Irish Folklore^ by Lageniensis (Father 
 O'Hanlan) ; Curtins's Myths and Folk- 
 lore of Ireland \ Douglas Hyde's Beside the 
 Fire and his Leabhar Sgeulaigheachta ; 
 Patrick Kennedy's Legendary Fictions of 
 the Irish Peasantry^ his Banks of the 
 Boro^ his Evenings on the Duffrey^ and 
 his Legends of Mount Leinster\ the chap- 
 books, Royal Fairy Tales^ and Tales of 
 the Fairies. There is also much folk- 
 lore in Carleton's Traits and Stories ; 
 
IRISH FOLKLORE 235 
 
 in Lover's Legends and Stories of the 
 Irish Peasantry ; in Mr. and Mrs. S. C. 
 Hall's Ireland', in Lady Chatterton's 
 Ra7nbles in the South of Ireland \ in 
 Gerald Griffen's Tales of a fury Room 
 in particular, and in his other books in 
 general. It would repay the trouble if 
 some Irish magazine would select from 
 his works the stray legends and scraps 
 of fairy belief. There is much in the 
 Collegians. There is also folklore in 
 the chap-book Hibernian Tales ^ and a 
 Banshee story or two will be found in 
 Miss Lefanu's Memoirs of my Grand- 
 7nother^ and in Barrington's Recollections. 
 There are also stories in Donovan's 
 introduction to the Four Masters. The 
 best articles are those in the Dublin and 
 London Magazine (" The Fairy Grey- 
 hound" is from this collection) for 1827 
 and 1829, about a dozen in all, and David 
 Fitzgerald's various contributions to the 
 Review Celtique in our own day, and 
 Miss M^Clintock's articles in the Dublin 
 University Magazine for 1878. There 
 are good articles also in the Dublin 
 University Magazine for 1839, and 
 
236 IRISH FAIRY TALES 
 
 much Irish folklore is within the pages 
 of the Folklore Journal and the Folklore 
 Record^ and in the proceedings of the 
 Kilken7iy ArchcBological Society, The 
 Penny Journal, the Newry Magazine, 
 Dufffs Sixpenny Magazine, and the 
 Hiberniaft Magazine, are also worth a 
 search by any Irish writer on the look- 
 out for subjects for song or ballad. My 
 own articles in the Scots Observer and 
 National Observer give many gatherings 
 from the little-reaped Connaught fields. 
 I repeat this list of authorities from my 
 Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish 
 Peasantry, — a compilation from some of 
 the sources mentioned, — bringing it down 
 to date and making one or two corrections. 
 The reader who would know Irish tradi- 
 tion should read these books above all 
 others — Lady Wilde's Ancient Legends, 
 Douglas Hyde's Beside the Fire, and a 
 book not mentioned in the foregoing list, 
 for it deals with the bardic rather than 
 the folk literature, Standish O'Grady's 
 History of Ireland, Heroic Period — per- 
 haps the most imaginative book written 
 on any Irish subject in recent decades. 
 
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