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THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
THE FIBESIDE STOEIES 
 
 ieeland; 
 
 / KaA 
 
 PATEICK KENNEDY, 
 
 Author of "Legends of Mount Leinster," "Legendary Fictions of the Irish 
 Celts," "The Banks of the Boro," and "Evenings in the Duffrey." 
 
 DUBLIN : 
 
 M'GLASHAN AND GILL; AND PATRICK KENNEDY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL <ft CO. ; AND BURNS, OATES & CO. ; 
 
 EDINBURGH ; JOHN MENZIES & CO. 
 
 1870. 
 

 PBINTED BY B. D. WEBB AND SOI 
 74, MIDDLE ABBBY-STBEET. 
 
TO 
 
 EDWAED BARRINGTON, ESQ., J.P., 
 jfassaroe, ISraj). 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I venture to dedicate to you this little volume, without permis- 
 sion indeed, for I was doubtful of obtaining it if formally asked. I 
 have no other means at command of expressing my gratitude for 
 nearly forty years of uninterrupted and active kindness on your part. 
 I would very willingly bear testimony to your worth as a merchant 
 and a landed proprietor, and to the amount of public good you have 
 done by many beneficent acts, and by furnishing employment to so 
 many hundreds of industrious families during your lifetime ; but, since 
 the days of John Dryden, the language of dedications, however sin- 
 cere, is not received with undoubted trust. With best wishes for your 
 well-being here and hereafter, 
 I am, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your faithful servant and friend, 
 
 PATRICK KENNEDY. 
 
 Dublin, November, 1870. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 A more correct title for the present collection would be 
 " The Fireside Stories of the Aryan peoples, as related in 
 Ireland," for nearly every one of them is told in some shape 
 at the social gatherings of Hindoos, Persians, Slavonians, 
 or Teutons. Their skilful framework and the rapid suc- 
 cession of their incidents may in fact account for their 
 popularity, which has endured from a period ages before 
 the commencement of the Christian era. They enjoy a 
 vitality unknown to fictions invented within historic times. 
 Country folk of the small-farmer and peasant class re- 
 sort to their neighbours' houses during the long winter 
 evenings, urged by the same want which sends the shop- 
 keepers and mechanics of a city to the reading or tap-room, 
 or the theatre. They soon exhaust the local topics, but 
 are unwilling to withdraw to the comparative loneliness of 
 their own homes ; and if one of the company possesses the 
 faculties of a good memory and a good utterance, and con- 
 descends to tell a story, he or she is a social benefactor for 
 the time. In this way the great body of fireside lore has 
 been preserved, notwithstanding the small number of good 
 story-tellers in any neighbourhood. Where the office de- 
 volves on an incompetent narrator, a change for the worse 
 ensues. Having gone on correctly for a time, he finds his 
 memory at fault, and is obliged to fall back on the sequel 
 
Vlll. PREFACE. 
 
 of a remembered tale. In this way stories, once popular in 
 this or that locality, come to be remembered no more. 
 
 Taking into account the fewness of story-tellers, and the 
 odds against a regular succession of good ones in any given 
 district, the preservation of so many household fictions is 
 not easily accounted for, especially as they have lost the 
 poetic form in which they could be easily retained in the 
 memory. The easy access to cheap books, and the diffusion 
 of the penny literature of our times, have given a death-blow 
 to the oral literature of the fireside. Eegret at the passing 
 away of an institution from which my childhood and boy- 
 hood derived such pleasure, has set me on to preserve in 
 print the naive, and in many cases, excellent narratives 
 which once delighted the unlettered folk of half the world. 
 I have endeavoured to present them in a form suitable for 
 the perusal of both sexes and of all ages. Some ludicrous 
 objurgations of no great harm occur, indeed, in some places; 
 for the narrative, as given by a Wexford or Kerry man of 
 the people, would be destitute of local colour without them. 
 
 I have only hinted, as it were, at the ordinary pronun- 
 ciation, giving the words at times as the story-tellers utter- 
 ed them, and in the correct form at others. A matter-of- 
 fact reader may, if it gives him any pleasure, suppose beast 
 to be always pronounced baste, though that faulty spell may 
 be used only in a few instances. He must also bring him- 
 self to forgive Irish idioms and incorrect orthography in 
 the colloquial parts of a story, while the mere narrative 
 accords tolerably well with rules laid down in Lindley 
 Murray's grammar. This is an ordinary feature of oral re- 
 citation. An intelligent though unlettered Bantry or Duf- 
 frey peasant or peasantess would recite the troubles of the 
 heroine, the labours and travels of the hero, the evil deeds 
 of giant, giantess, and stepmother in tolerably correct Ian- 
 
PREFACE. IX. 
 
 guage ; but the moment the narrative merged into the col- 
 loquial, the native idiom and pronunciation took the upper 
 hand. Had, as an auxiliary in the pluperfect tense, will 
 not he met here, as it is not patronised by the Irish people. 
 
 Writers born in Hants, or Notts, or Herts will kindly 
 receive a hint or two which may be of use to them, when 
 they venture on the pronunciation of natives of Ireland. 
 Neither Paddy nor Winny ever pronounces Peter Pother, 
 nor priest praste, nor thief thafe, nor read rack. He or 
 she will certainly sound beat as if it was spelled bate, but 
 neither will ever make a mistake about a word in which 
 occurs either of the diphthongs ie, ee. They simply abuse 
 ea, and indulge in aspirations — faults which are owing to 
 their retaining the pronunciation of the native Gaelic after 
 the meanings of most of its words have escaped their me- 
 mory. The diphthong ea is never pronounced in Irish as 
 it is heard in meat. It is sounded sometimes as ay in day, 
 and sometimes as a in calf. 
 
 I intended that the present volume should contain some 
 Ossianic and saintly legends, and short historic romances 
 from our ancient annals ; but circumstances in which I can- 
 not expect my readers to take any interest have altered the 
 design. These pieces only wait a favourable season to make 
 their appearance. "The Legendary Fictions of the Irish 
 Celts" (Macmillan, 1866), the present, and the projected 
 volume will complete " The Fireside and Bardic Stories of 
 Ireland." 
 
 The greater number of the stories appeared in the 
 Dublin University Magazine, while that periodical was 
 the property of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Esq., and while 
 it was enriched by the publication of his best novels. To 
 him and the present proprietor I beg to express my grate- 
 ful sense of their kind permission to issue a separate edition. 
 
X. PREFACE. 
 
 I hope the present collection may give pleasure to many 
 a young and unsophisticated reader, and revive healthy and 
 pleasant recollections of early life in the hearts and minds 
 of those advanced in years. 
 
 November , 1870. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Dedication 
 
 Preface 
 
 Hairy Rouchy 
 
 A Legend of Clever Women ... 
 
 The Twelve Wild Geese 
 
 The Wonderful Cake 
 
 The False Bride 
 
 The End of the World 
 
 The Three Gifts 
 
 The Unlucky Messenger 
 
 The Maid in the Country Underground 
 
 Jack the Cunning Thief 
 
 The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener 
 
 The Giant and his Royal Servants 
 
 The Lazy Beauty and her Aunts 
 
 The Gilla na Gruaga Donna 
 
 Shan an Omadhawn and his Master 
 
 The Princess in the Cat-skins 
 
 The Well at the World's End 
 
 The Poor Girl that became a Queen 
 
 The Grateful Beasts 
 
 The Gilla Rua 
 
 The Fellow in the Goat-skin ... 
 
 The Haughty Princess 
 
 Doctor Cure-all 
 
 The Wise Men of Gotham 
 
 The Good Boy and the Boy that envied him 
 
 Choosing the least of Three Evils 
 
 The Hermit and the Robber ... 
 
XU. CONTENTS. 
 
 Birth and Baptism of St. Mogue 
 
 The Greedy Mason ... 
 
 The Music of Heaven 
 
 How Donn Firinne got his Horse shod 
 
 Cliona of Minister ... 
 
 A Bullock Changeling 
 
 How John Hackett won the French Princess 
 
 The Fairy-stricken Servant 
 
 The Fairy Rath of Clonnagowan 
 
 The Fairies' Pass 
 
 The Banshee of the O'Briens ... 
 
 Tom Kiernan's Visit to France 
 
 The Love Philtre ... 
 
 The Pooka of Baltracy 
 
 The Enchanted Cat of Bantry 
 
 How the Devil's Glen got its Name 
 
 The Rock of Cashel ... 
 
 The Tree of the Seven Thorns ... „ 
 
 Legend of the Lover's Leap in the Dargle 
 
 The Discovery of Mitchelstown Caves . . . 
 
 Lord Clancarty's Ghost 
 
 The Treasure-seekers of Maynooth 
 
 The Origin of Loch Erne 
 
 The Death of the Red Earl ... 
 
 Notes and Illustrations 
 
 Glossary 
 
THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 There are few literary subjects more obscure in some re- 
 spects than that of genuine Household Stories. It is ac- 
 knowledged on all hands that the oral fictions of all the 
 peoples, from Hindoostan to the Hebrides, have had a 
 common origin somewhere in pagan and pre-historic times. 
 But the early recitals of any people did not consist of 
 fictions. They were accounts of past transactions, chiefly 
 the exploits of the ancestors of personages among the 
 auditory of the reciter, and delivered in a poetic form. 
 These in time began to be embellished and enlarged by 
 succeeding bards and minstrels, and, still later, portions of 
 the poetical form escaped the memory of the reciters, and 
 the narratives assumed a prose form. It is vain in our 
 time to seek to recover the original shape of our fireside- 
 narratives. Through many transmissions a change for the 
 worse has ensued, and it is beyond the power of our best 
 scholars to determine what ante-historical occurrence or what 
 pagan myth is concealed under the garb of a fireside tale. 
 
 Beings of superhuman power, both in human and bestial 
 forms, abound, some good and others evil in their nature, 
 thus testifying to the worship of inferior divinities and of 
 animals. 
 
 Morality was not an essential feature of the original 
 narratives, but it is as curious as agreeable to mark the 
 trifling extent of the evil element throughout. Perhaps 
 some improvement was effected in the tales as they passed 
 from the pagan to the christian story tellers. Some indeed 
 of an unedifying character have remained even to our own 
 times, but such as these will not be found in our collection. 
 
 i 
 
2 THE FIRESIDE, STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 Step-mothers and step-sisters were selected by the fire- 
 side historians as the antagonistic characters in their com- 
 positions. "When these were not sufficient for the quota of 
 evil necessary, they added a giant, and occasionally his wife. 
 But in nearly every other instance the mass of shade was 
 subservient to that of the light and the cheerful middle 
 tints of the picture. The good and amiable characters were 
 ever victorious over the selfish and ill-conditioned ones. 
 Our modern social chroniclers adopt the opposite principle. 
 They can only afford such a modicum of light as will give 
 an idea of the depth of their shadows. 
 
 Scenes of blood and and cruelty were not at all unfre- 
 quent in the ancient repertory, but when it is considered 
 that they were first told to audiences to whom clan-battles, 
 cattle-lifting forays, and all the troubles incident to tribes 
 at variance with their neighbours were things of common 
 occurrence, we may well wonder and be thankful that so 
 many unobjectionable stories were bequeathed by our tur- 
 bulent ancestors to us their unimaginative and ease-loving 
 descendants. 
 
 We flatter ourselves that the stories which we here pro- 
 duce, and which have survived all the changes and chances 
 met in their passage through the countries and the centu- 
 ries they must have traversed before they reached us, are 
 among the best in the Aryan repertory of fiction. Such as 
 they are, they may be received by our readers as obtained 
 from bona fide oral sources. No changes have been made 
 in them by us except where decency required, and they are 
 given in as near an approach to the garb as well as the 
 spirit of the originals as could be furnished by one to the 
 manner born, and to whom, when young, fireside stories 
 were as necessary as daily food and the healthy air from the 
 neighbouring hills. None will more rejoice than he, to 
 hear of some one gathering from a fertile district where the 
 native tongue is still spoken, a harvest of stories racy of 
 the Gaelic idiom, thus accomplishing effectually what he 
 has himself attempted in the comparatively barren field of 
 a semi-English county. 
 
[ 3 ] 
 
 HAIRY EOUCHY. 
 
 There was once a widow woman, as often there was, and 
 she had three daughters. The eldest and the second 
 eldest were as handsome as the moon and the evening star, 
 but the youngest was all covered with hair, and her face 
 was as brown as a berry, and they called her Hairy 
 Eouchy. She lighted the fire in the morning, cooked the 
 food, and made the beds, while her sisters would be string- 
 ing flowers on a hank, or looking at themselves in the 
 glass, or sitting with their hands across. " No one will 
 ever come to marry us in this lonesome place," said the 
 eldest one day ; " so you and I," said she to the second 
 sister, " may as well go seek our fortune." " That's the 
 best word you ever spoke," said the other. "Bake our 
 cake and kill our cock, mother, and away we go." Well, 
 so she did ; ft And now, girls," said she, " which will you 
 have, half this with my blessing, or the whole of it with my 
 curse V " Curse or no curse, mother, the whole of it is 
 little enough." 
 
 Well they set off, and says Hairy Eouchy to her mo- 
 ther when they got to the end of the lane, "Mother, give 
 me your blessing, and a quarter of the griddle cake, I must 
 go after these girls, for I fear ill luck is in their road." 
 She gave her her blessing and the whole of the cake, and 
 she went off running, and soon overtook them. " Here's 
 Hairy Eouchy," says the eldest, " she'll make a show of us. 
 We'll tie her to this big stone." So they tied her to the 
 big stone and went their way, but when they were a quar- 
 ter of a mile further, there she was three perches behind 
 them. Well, they were vexed enough, and the next clamp 
 of turf they passed, they made her lie down, and piled every 
 sod of it over her. 
 
 When they were a quarter of a mile further they looked 
 back again, and there was the girl three perches behind 
 them, and wern't they mad 1 To make a long story short, 
 they fastened her in a pound, and they put the tying of the 
 three smalls on her, and fastened her to a tree. The next 
 quarter of a mile she was up by their side, and at last they 
 were tired, and let her walk behind them. 
 
4 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 Well, they walked and they walked till they were tired, 
 and till the greyness of night came round them, and they 
 saw a light at a distance. When they came up, what was 
 it but a giant's house, and great sharp teeth were in the 
 heads of himself, and his wife, and his three daughters. 
 Well, they got lodging, and when sleep time was coming 
 they were put into one bed, and the giant's daughters were 
 put into another, and the foot of the daughters' bed touched 
 the head of theirs. W r ell becomes my brave Hairy Eouchy, 
 — when the giant's daughters were asleep, she took off the 
 hair necklaces from her own neck and the necks of her sis- 
 ters, and put them on the giant's daughters' necks, and she 
 put their gold and silver and diamond necklaces on the 
 necks of her sisters and herself, and then watched to see 
 what would happen. 
 
 The giant and his wife were sitting by the fire, and says 
 he, " Won't these girls make a fine meat pie for us to-mor- 
 row V " Won't they !" says she, and she smacked her lips, 
 " but I'll have some trouble singeing that hairy one." 
 " They are all asleep now," says he, and he called in his red- 
 headed giolla. " Go and put them strangers out of pain," 
 says he. " But how'll I know them from your daughters V 
 says the giolla. " Very easy, they have only hair neck- 
 laces round their necks." 
 
 Well, you may all guess what happened. So the night 
 faded away, and the morning came, and what did the giant 
 see at the flight of darkness, when the gate was opened by 
 the cow-boy, but Hairy Rouchy walking out through it 
 after her two sisters. Down the stairs he came, five at a 
 time, and out of the bawn he flew, and mack go brath 
 (away for ever) with him after the girls. The eldest 
 screamed out, and the second eldest screamed out, but the 
 youngest took one under each arm, and if she did'nt lay 
 leg to ground, you may call me a story-teller. She ran 
 like the west wind, and the giant ran like the north wind; 
 the sparks of fire he struck out of the stones hit her on the 
 back, and the sparks of fire she struck out of the stones 
 scorched his face. At last they came near the wide and 
 deep river that divided his land from the land of the King 
 of Spain, and into that land he daren't pass. Over the wide 
 
HAIRY ROUCHY. 5 
 
 deep river went Hairy Bouchy with a high, very active 
 bound, and after her went the giant. His heels touched 
 the hank, and back into the water went his head and body. 
 He dragged himself out on his own side, and sat down on 
 the bank, and looked across, and this is what he said. 
 "You're there Hairy Eouchy," says he. "No thanks to 
 you for it," says she. " You got my three daughters killed." 
 says he. " It was to save our own lives," says she. " When 
 will you come to see me again V says he. " When I have 
 business," says she. " Divel be in your road!" says he. 
 u It's better pray than curse," says she. 
 
 The three girls went on till they came to the King of 
 Spain's castle, where they were well entertained, and the 
 King's eldest son and the eldest sister fell in love with one 
 another, and the second son and the second sister fell in 
 love with one another, and poor Hairy Eouchy fell in love 
 with the youngest son, but he did'nt fall in love with her. 
 
 Well, the next day, when they were at* breakfast, says 
 the King to her, " Good was your deed at the giant's house, 
 and if you only bring me the talking golden quilt that's 
 covering himself and his wife, my eldest son may marry 
 your eldest sister." " I'll try," says she ; " worse than lose 
 I can't." 
 
 So that night, when the giant and his wife were fast 
 asleep, the quilt felt a hand pulling it off the bed. "Who 
 are you 2" says the quilt. " Mishe" (myself), says the girl, 
 — and she pulled away. " Waken, master ! " says the quilt ; 
 " some one is taking me away." " And who's taking you 
 away]" says he. "It'sMishe that's doing it," says the 
 quilt. " Then let Mishe stop his tricks, and not be disturb- 
 ing us. " But I tell you, Mishe is carrying me off." " If 
 Mishe says another word, I'll get up, and throw him in the 
 fire." So the poor quilt had nothing to do but hold its 
 tongue. 
 
 " But," says the giant's wife, after a few minutes, "maybe 
 the divel bewitcht the quilt to walk off with itself." " Faith 
 and maybe so," says the giant ; "I'll get up and look." 
 So he searched the room, and the stairs, and the hall, and 
 the bawn, and the bawn gate was open. " Mile mollachd" 
 says he ; " Hairy Eouchy was here ;" and to the road he 
 
6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND, 
 
 took. But when he was on the hill she was in the hollow, 
 and when he was in the hollow she was on the hill, and 
 when he came to the hither side of the river she was on the 
 thither. "You're there, Hairy Bouchy !" says he. "No 
 
 thanks to you," says she " You took away iny 
 
 speaking golden quilt," says he. " It was to get my eldest 
 sister married, 7 ' says she. "When will you come again V 
 .... " Divel be in your road," says he. u It's better pray 
 than curse," says she ; and the same night the speaking 
 golden quilt was covering the King and Queen of Spain. 
 
 Well, the wedding was made, but there was little notice 
 taken of poor Hairy Eouchy, and she spent a good part of 
 the day talking to a poor travelling woman that she often 
 relieved at home and that was come by accidence as far as 
 Spain. 
 
 " So the next day, when they were at breakfast again, 
 says the King, " Hairy Eouchy, if you bring me to-morrow 
 morning the ckloive solais (sword of light) that hangs at the 
 giant's bed's head, my second son will marry your second 
 sister." " I'll make the trial," says she ; " worse than lose 
 I can't." 
 
 Well, the next night the giant's wife was boiling his big 
 pot of gruel, and Hairy Eouchy was sitting by the dumbly 
 on the scraws that covered the ridge-pole, and dropping fist- 
 fuls of salt into the pot. u You put too much salt in this 
 porridge," says the giant to his wife, when he was supping 
 it. " I'm sure I did't put in more than four spoonfuls/' 
 says she. " Well, well, that was the right size ; still it 
 tastes mortial salty." 
 
 When he was in bed he cried out, " Wife, I'll be a piece 
 of cured bacon before morning if I don't get a drink." 
 " Oh, then, purshuin to the sup of water in the house," says 
 she. " Well, call up the giolla out of the settle, and let 
 him bring a pailful from the well." So the giolla got up 
 in a bad humour, scratching his head, and went to the door 
 with the pail in his hand. There was Hairy Eouchy by 
 the jamb, and maybe she didn't dash fistfuls of sand and 
 salt into his eyes. " Oh masther, masther," says he, the sky 
 is as black as your hat, and it's pelting hailstones on me ; 
 I'll never find the well." " Here you onshuch, take the 
 sword of light, and it will show you the way." 
 
HAIRY ROUCHY. 7 
 
 So he took the chloive solais, and made his way to the 
 well, and while he was filling the pail he laid the sword on 
 the ground. That was all the girl wanted. She snatched 
 it up, waved it round her head, and the light flashed over 
 hills and hollows. " If you're not into the house like a 
 shot," says she, " I'll send your head half a mile away." 
 The poor giolla was only too glad to get off, and she was 
 soon flying like the wind to the river, and the giant hot 
 foot after her. When she was in the hollow he was on the 
 hill 
 
 " You're a very good girl, indeed," says the King of 
 Spain to Hairy Eouchy, the morning after the second mar- 
 riage ; "you deserve a reward. So bring me the giant's 
 puckawn with the golden bells round his neck, as soon as 
 you like, and you must get my youngest son for a husband. 
 " But maybe he wont have me," says she. " Indeed an' I 
 will," says the prince ; " so good a sister can't make a bad 
 wife." " But I'm all hairy and brown," says she. " That's 
 no sin," says the prince. 
 
 Sure enough, the night after, she was hard and fast in 
 the giant's out -house, stuffing the puckawn' s bells with the 
 marrow of the elder ; and when she thought the job was 
 well finished she was leading him out. She had a band on 
 his mouth, but when my brave puck found he couldn't bawl, 
 he took to rear and kick like a puck as he was. Out came 
 the elder marrow from three of the bells, and the sound that 
 came from them was enough to waken the dead. She drove 
 him at. his full speed before her, but after came the giant 
 like a storm. She could escape him if she liked, but she 
 would not return without puck, and bedad she was soon 
 pinned and brought back to the giant's big kitcheu. There 
 was his wife and the giolla, and if he wasn't proud to show 
 them his prisoner there's not a glove in Wexford. 
 
 " Now, ma'am," says he to her, il I have you safe after all 
 the mischief you done me. If I was in your power what 
 would you do to me ?" " Oh wouldn't I tie you up to the 
 ceiling in a sack, you ould tyrant, and go myself and giolla 
 to the wood, cut big clubs, and break every bone in your 
 body one after another. Then if there was any life left in 
 you, we'd make a fire of the green boughs underneath, and 
 
8 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 stifle the little that was left out of you." " The very thing 
 Til do with you," says he. 
 
 So he put her in a sack, tied her up to the beam that 
 went across the kitchen, and went off with the the giolla to 
 the wood to cut down the clubs and green branches, leaving 
 his wife to watch the prisoner. She expected to hear cry- 
 ing and sobbing from out of the sack, but the girl did 
 nothing but shout and laugh. " Is it mad you are," says 
 she, " and death so near you ? " " Death indeed ! Why, 
 the bottom of the sack is full of diamonds, and pearls, and 
 guineas, and there is the finest views all round me you ever 
 see — castles, and lawns, and lakes, and the finest flowers." 
 " Is it lies you're telling ? " " Oh dickens a lie ! If I'd let 
 you up, but I won't, you'd see and feel it all." 
 
 But the giant's wife over-persuaded her, and when she 
 was loosened, and got the other into the sack, she tied her 
 hard and fast, ran to the out-house, threw a rope round the 
 puckawn's neck, and he and she were soon racing like the 
 wind towards the river. The giant and the giolla were soon 
 back, and he wondered where his wife could be. But he 
 saw the sack still full, and the two began to whack it like 
 so many blacksmiths. " Oh Lord," says the poor woman, 
 "it's myself that's here." " And to be sure it's yourself," 
 says he ; " here goes again." But she roared out, " Ah sure 
 I'm your wife ; don't kill me for goodness' sake ! " " Be 
 the laws," says the giolla, " it's the mistress. Oh, bad luck 
 to you, Hairy Bouchy ; this is your doing. Bun and catch 
 her, master, while I take the poor mistress down, and see 
 what I can do for her." Off went the big fellow like a bow- 
 arra, but when he came to this side of the river panting and 
 puffing, there was the girl and his darling puckawn on the 
 other side, and she ready to burst her sides with the laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " You're there, my damsel." " ISTo thanks, etc." So the 
 scolding match went on to the end, and then says he, " If 
 you were in my place, and I in yours now, what would you 
 do ? " " I'd stoop down and drink the river dry to get at 
 you." But she didn't stop to see whether he was fool 
 enough to take her advice, but led her goat to the palace. 
 Oh, wasn't there great joy and clapping of hands when the 
 
HAIRY ROUCHY. 9 
 
 golden bells were heard a ringing up the avenue, and into 
 the big bawn ? She didn't mind how any one looked but 
 the youngest prince ; and though he didn't appear very re- 
 joiced, there was a kind smile on his face, and she was sa- 
 tisfied. 
 
 Well, the next morning, when they were all setting out 
 to the church, and the bridegroom was mounted on his 
 horse, and the bride getting into the coach, she asked him 
 for leave to take the poor travelling woman in along with 
 her. " It's a queer request," says he, "but do as you like ; 
 you must have some reason for it." Well, when all were 
 dismounting or getting out of their coaches, he went to open 
 the door for his bride, and the sight almost left his eyes ; 
 for there sitting foment him was the most beautiful young 
 woman he ever beheld. She had the same kind innocent 
 look that belonged to Hairy Eouchy, but she had also the 
 finest colour in her face, and neck, and hands, and lier hair, 
 instead of the tangled brake it used to be, was nicely 'platted 
 and curled, and was the finest dark brown in the world. 
 
 Glad enough she was to see the joy and surprise in his 
 face, and if they were not the happy bride and bridegroom 
 I never saw one. When they were talking by themselves, 
 she told him that an enchantment was laid on her when 
 she was a child, and she was always to remain the fright 
 she was, till some one would marry her for the sake of her 
 disposition. The travelling woman was her guardian fairy 
 in disguise. There were two unhappy marriages and one 
 happy one in the King of Spain's family, and I'll let every 
 one here guess which was which. 
 
 A LEGEND OF CLEVER WOMEN. 
 
 Before Joan was married all her people had a high opinion 
 of her. When Darby came to woo her, her mother told 
 him in confidence that she could see the wind, and hear the 
 flies when they coughed. Well, when they were at dinner 
 the beer came short, and Joanna went down to the cellar to 
 draw a gallon-full. She stayed awhile, and then her mother 
 
10 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 went to see what was keeping her. She wasn't coming back, 
 and the father's and Darby's thirst was getting more trou- 
 blesome ; so the old man went after the rest. As he forgot 
 to return, the bridegroom thought fit at last to try what had 
 become of his new relations, and when he got inside the 
 cellar, he found the whole of them sobbing and crying. 
 " What in the world has happened, dear friends 'I " said he. 
 * Oh nothing," says the mother, " but something terrible 
 might happen only for the cleverness of my poor Joan. Do 
 you see that loose stone in the vault just over the spigot ? 
 When my poor child was filling the gallon, that stone caught 
 her eye, and she thought what a heartscald it would be when 
 the little boy, that God will please to send to herself and 
 yourself, would be filling a vessel, maybe when he'd be ten 
 years old or so, and that stone tumble down and kill him 
 dead. So how could she help clapping her hands an' roarin' 
 an' bawlin' when the thought came into her head 1 ? and I'm 
 sure her father an' meself would have the hard hearts not 
 to feel for her." " Well, well," says Darby, " I'll soon put 
 it out of the stone's power to do mischief." So he got on 
 a stillion, and pulled it away, and they all dried their eyes 
 and returned to their dinner. 
 
 Well, when they were living by themselves, Darby says 
 one morning to his wife after breakfast, " You'll have my 
 dinner ready at half-past twelve to the minute. You know 
 I have to go to the town after it." " Never fear, Darby," 
 says she ; and sure enough she had a big black pudding 
 hissing in the pan about ten minutes before she expected 
 him. While she was watching it, the thought came into 
 her mind that it would be a good thing to be drawing the 
 beer while the pudding was frying. But while she was 
 watching the beer falling into the jug, she heard them cry 
 out, " The dog is running away with the pudding ! " Out 
 she flew like a racer, and after the dog with her ; but when 
 she had chased him two fields he was a whole field ahead 
 of her, and she thought she might as well go back. 
 
 Poor Joan ! when she came to the cellar door, the floor 
 was covered three inches deep with the beer, the barrel was 
 empty, but the jug was full any way. " We must make 
 the best of a bad market," says she, " Darby would be 
 
A LEGEND OF CLEVER WOMEN. J I 
 
 vexed to see the cellar this way, and I must get out his 
 drink whatever happens." So she emptied a sack of meal on 
 the pool, and was delighted to see it w r as almost all sucked 
 up. Then she laid the sack across to the barrel, and hardly- 
 wet her pumps, and would have had the full jug coming 
 back only for a kick she happened to give it. Poor Darby had 
 a poor dinner, but Joan was so heated, and so proud of her 
 good management, that he hadn't the heart to scold her. 
 She showed him how nicely all would have happened, and 
 what a comfortable dinner she might have ready for him, 
 only for the roguery of the dog when he found the door 
 open, and how could she spare time to turn the cock when 
 she heard the shout? Darby, how r ever, began to suspect that 
 she was not so clever as her father and mother said she was. 
 A week after he had to go to the town, and says he, just 
 as he was setting out, " Joan, you must mind what I say to 
 you. Shanna Mo (Jack of the Cows) will be apt to call 
 while I'm away, for Browny, and Blacky, and Brackedy. 
 He agreed to pay thirty pounds for them, but he's rather 
 tricky ; so don't let him get a hoof of one of them without 
 paying the money on the nail." "I'll be careful," says 
 Joan. Darby came back in the evening. "Well, Joan 
 my darling, how did you succeed ] " "Oh nicely. You'll 
 never say after this that I wasn't clever. I think Shan is 
 just as tricky as you said he was, but he didn't circumvent 
 me." " Them cows," says he, " is dear enough, but I'll 
 take 'em ; what's a man but his w T ord?" and he was driving 
 them out at the bawn gate. " Oh stop ! " says I, " you 
 didn't give me the thirty pounds." " Didn't I," says he, 
 " Well, what a memory I have ! and, bedad," says he, 
 rummaging his pockets, " I left the rowl of notes on the 
 dresser coining out. Now I'll have the trouble of going for 
 them. Ah ! I wish my wife was as clever as you, Joan. 
 I'd be a thousand pounds richer to-day. Happy is the 
 man that owns you ! Oh, this is what we can do, and save 
 trouble. These three cows are mine. I'll leave you one 
 in pledge till I send you the money this evening or to-mor- 
 row morning." " Well, see my cleverness ! I kept the 
 smallest because she'd eat the least till he'll send the mo- 
 ney. Now what do you say to me, Darby 1 " " Indeed, 
 
12 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 I'll say this to you. You are such a fool that I'll never lie 
 a 3iight by your side, till I find some other woman more 
 foolish ; " and he turned his back, and to the road with 
 him. 
 
 The first foolish woman he found had no window to her 
 mud-wall cabin, and the door was turned to the north. 
 She was running with a sieve in her hands in and out, cry- 
 ing, " I have it now/' and, " I haven't it now," till Darby 
 asked her what she was doing. " And ain ; t I striving to 
 carry the sunshine into the cabin, and I can never get it 
 inside the door ? " " Have you a pick-axe in the way 1 " 
 " Yes, to be sure." " Well, I'll soon bring it in to you." 
 He went to the wall next the sun, gave two or three strokes, 
 and a grey streak was soon coming in, and a splash of light 
 on the floor. " Oh, fortunate was the wind that drove you 
 in my road ! what will I be giving you for this good job V 
 "Ah, my good woman, all you're worth wouldn't be enough ; 
 I'll take nothing;" and he went on, saying to himself, " She 
 is not more foolish than Joan." 
 
 He was going by a cabin, and such roaring and bawling 
 as was coming out through the door ! In he ran, and there 
 was a man sitting on a chair, with a clean linen sack on his 
 head and his shoulders, and his wife with a beetle, coming 
 down on his head with the hammers of death, and he roar- 
 ing like fifty bulls. " What are you doing, you wicked 
 woman 1 ?" says Darby; " do you want to kill the poor 
 man 1 "" " Indeed, an' I don't, but I want to make a hole 
 in this divel of a shirt to let his head and face up through 
 it!" "Have you a scissors about you'?" "To be sure ; 
 I'd be a purty housewife if I hadn't." Darby made a cut 
 in the top of the bag, and the poor bruised head came out. 
 " Oh, musha, wasn't it good fortune that drove you into 
 the cabin ! What'll we be giving you for your trouble V 
 "All you're worth wouldn't be enough; so I'll take nothing; 
 banacht lath ! I don't think she's worse than Joan. I'll 
 go on." 
 
 The next adventure he met was in a widow- woman's 
 bawn, where herself and a few neighbours were striving to 
 lift up a big cow to the eaves of the cabin, and the poor 
 animal kicking off their hats, and tearing their clothes 
 
A LEGEND OF CLEVER WOMEN. 1 3 
 
 with her hoofs. " God bless the men and their work !" 
 says Darby. " God save you kindly," says they. " What 
 are yous doing with the poor baste ? " says he. " An' 
 sure we're striving to get her up on the tatch^ says the 
 widow, " 'till she makes a meal on all that fine grass that's 
 growing on itself, and the scraws at the top. ;; "Let her 
 down," says he, "and maybe we'll come on an easier plan. 
 Give us a reaping-hook, if you have the like." So he got 
 a ladder, and was soon down again with an armfull of the 
 grass. " Well to be sure !" says the poor widow, " nothing 
 bates the wit of man barring the bees. It was a good 
 wind," &c., &c. u I don't think," says Darby, " she's a 
 bit worse than Joan. My journey is not over." 
 
 Just as night fell, he went into a farm-house and put up 
 for the night. The owner was a widow- woman that was 
 after burying her third husband. The first two were such 
 crooked disciples that she married a third to get the taste 
 of them off her mouth, as she said. " Where do you come 
 from, honest man f" says she to Darby, after supper. "I 
 am from the Gairdheen" (Garden, the name of his farm.) 
 " Oh, and are you from the Garden in -earnest V " Faith 
 I am so ; what do you admire about it 1 " " Oh, and may 
 be you are acquainted with my poor husband, the last I 
 mean, the others I'm sure never had the grace to get there." 
 Darby now smelled a rat. " And what sort of a mau was 
 your last, and what was the name was on him V "An' 
 wasn't he poor Jack Miskella, the innocentest and little- 
 good-for-est man that ever drew on a stocking 1 A child 
 of three years old would buy and sell him any day he ever 
 got up." "I know the man you mean, and have a message 
 to you from him. He have no means of earning his bread, 
 and his clothes is nearly worn out. So he does be begging 
 at the good Christians' doors, and he bid me tell you, if 
 you'd send him a comfortable suit of clothes, not forgetting 
 a pair of double- soled brogues, you'd make a man of him ; 
 and if he had an ass or a small garran to carry him from 
 one charitable house to another, he'd be as happy as a king, 
 it 'ud be such an ease to his poor legs." " Ah, an' them's 
 the very things he must have, my poor Jack ! I suppose 
 you'd like to be off early to him. The ass will be ready 
 
14 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 bridled and saddled in the stable, and the full suit will be 
 laid out here on the kitchen table; and if you think they'd 
 be of any use, there'll be a few guinea notes in the pockets." 
 " Never mind the notes ; every family does everything for 
 itself in that country." 
 
 " I think," says Darby to himself next morning, " I've 
 found a woman rather more foolish than poor Joan ; so 
 I'll go back to her." He did so, and they led such a life 
 that whenever a loving couple are seen going together to 
 Mass or market, every one says, " There goes Darby and 
 Joan/' 
 
 THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. 
 
 There was once a King and Queen that lived very hap- 
 pily together, and they had twelve sons and not a single 
 daughter. "We are always wishing for what we haven't, 
 and don't care for what we have, and so it was with the 
 Queen. One day in winter, when the bawn was covered 
 with snow, she was looking out of the parlour window, 
 and saw there a calf that was just killed by the butcher, 
 and a raven standing near it. " Oh," says she, " if I had 
 only a daughter with her skin as white as that snow, her 
 cheeks as red as that blood, and her hair as black as that 
 raven, I'd give away every one of my twelve sons for her." 
 The moment she said the word, she got a great fright, and 
 a shiver went through her, and in an instant after, a 
 severe-looking old woman stood before her. (i That was a 
 wicked wish you made," said she, " and to punish you it 
 will be granted. You will have such a daughter as you 
 desire, but the very day of her birth you will lose your 
 other children." She vanished the moment she said the 
 words. 
 
 And that very way it turned out. When she expected 
 her delivery, she had her children all in a large room of 
 the palace, with guards all round it, but the very hour her 
 daughter came into the world, the guards inside and outside 
 heard a great whirling and whistling, and the twelve princes 
 
THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. 1 5 
 
 were seen flying one after another out through the open 
 window, and away like so many arrows over the woods. 
 "Well, the king was in great grief for the loss of his sons, 
 and he would be very enraged with his wife if he only 
 knew that she w r as so much to blame for it. 
 
 Everyone called the little princess Snow-white-and-Bose- 
 red on account of her beautiful complexion. She was the 
 most ]oving and loveable child that could be seen anywhere. 
 When she was twelve years old she began to be very sad 
 and lonely, and to'torment her mother, asking her about 
 her brothers that she thought w T ere dead, for none up to 
 that time ever told her the exact thing that happened them. 
 The secret was weighing very heavy on the Queen's con- 
 science, and as the little girl persevered in her questions, 
 at last she told her. "Well, mother," said she, "it was on 
 my account my poor brothers were changed into wild geese, 
 and are now suffering all sorts of hardship ; before the 
 world is a day older, I'll be off to seek them, and try to 
 restore them to their own shapes." 
 
 The King and Queen had her w r ell watched, but all was 
 no use. Next night she was getting through the woods 
 that surrounded the palace, and she went on and on that 
 night, and till the evening of next day. She had a few 
 cakes with her, and she got nuts, and mugoreens (fruit of 
 the sweet briar) and some sweet crabs as she w r ent along. 
 At last she came to a nice wooden house just at sunset. 
 There was a fine garden round it, full of the handsomest 
 flowers, and a gate in the hedge. She went in, and saw a 
 table laid out with twelve plates, and twelve knives and 
 forks, and twelve spoons, and there w r ere cakes, and cold 
 wild fowl, and fruit along with the plates, and there was 
 a good fire, and in another long room there were twelve 
 beds. Well, while she was looking about her she heard the 
 gate opening, and footsteps along the walk, and in came 
 twelve young men, and there was great grief and surprise 
 on all their faces when they laid eyes on her. " Oh, what 
 misfortune sent you here ] said the eldest. " For the sake 
 of a girl we were obliged to leave our father's court, and be 
 in the shape of wild geese all day. That's twelve years ago, 
 and we took a solemn oath that we would kill the first young 
 
1 6 THE FIRESTDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 girl that came into our hands. It's a pity to put such an 
 innocent and handsome girl as you are out of the world, but 
 we must keep our oath." " But," said she, " Tm your only 
 sister that never knew anything about this till yesterday ; 
 and I stole away from our father's and mother's palace last 
 night to rind you out and relieve you if I can." Every one 
 of them clasped his hands, and looked down on the floor, 
 and you could hear a pin fall till the eldest cried out, " A 
 curse light on our oath ! what shall we do V 9 " I'll tell you 
 that," said an old woman that appeared at the instant among 
 them. " Break your wicked oath which no one should keep. 
 If you attempted to lay an uncivil finger on her I'd change 
 you into twelve booliaun buis (stalks of ragweed), but I wish 
 well to you as well as to her. She is appointed to be your 
 deliverer in this way. She must spin and knit twelve shirts 
 for you out of bog down, to be gathered by her own hands 
 on the moor just outside of the wood. It will take her five 
 years to do it, and if she once speaks, or laughs, or cries the 
 whole time, you will have to remain wild geese by day till 
 you're called out of the world. So take care of your sister; 
 it is worth your while." The fairy then vanished, and it was 
 only a strife with the brothers to see who would be first to 
 kiss and hug their sister. 
 
 So for three long years the poor young princess was oc- 
 cupied pulling bog down, spinning it, and knitting it into 
 shirts, and at the end of the three years she had eight 
 made. During all that time, she never spoke a word, nor 
 laughed, nor cried ; the last was the hardest to refrain from. 
 One fine day she was sitting in the garden spinning, when in 
 sprung a fine greyhound and bounded up to her, and laid 
 his paws on her shoulder, and licked her forehead and her 
 hair. The next minute a beautiful young prince rode up 
 to the little garden gate, took off his hat, and asked for 
 leave to come in. She gave him a little nod, and in he 
 walked. He made ever so many apologies for intruding, 
 and asked her ever so many questions, but not a word could 
 he get out of her. He loved her so much from the first 
 moment, that he could not leave her till he told her he was 
 king of a country just bordering on the forest, and he beg- 
 ged her to come home with him, and be his wife. She 
 
THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. I 7 
 
 couldn't help loving him as much, as he did her, and though 
 she shook her head very often and was very sorry to leave 
 her brothers, at last she nodded her head, and put her hand 
 in his, she knew well enough that the good fairy and her 
 brothers would be able to find her out. Before she went 
 she brought out a basket holding all her bog-down, and 
 another holding the eight shirts. The attendants took 
 charge of these, and the prince placed her before him on 
 his horse. The only thing that disturbed him while riding 
 along was the displeasure his stepmother would feel at what 
 he had done. However he was full master at home, and as 
 soon as he arrived he sent for the bishop, got his bride 
 nicely dressed, and the marriage was celebrated, the bride 
 answering by signs. He knew by her manners she was of 
 high birth, and no two could be fonder of each other. 
 
 The wicked stepmother did all she could to make mis- 
 chief, saying she was sure she was only a woodman's 
 daughter ; but nothing could disturb the young king's opi- 
 nion ©f his wife. In good time the young queen was de- 
 livered of a beautiful boy, and the king was so glad he 
 hardly knew what to do for joy. All the grandeur of the 
 christening and the happiness of the parents tormented 
 the bad woman more than I can tell you, and she deter- 
 mined to put a stop to all their comfort. She got a sleep- 
 ing posset given to the young mother, and while she was 
 thinking and thinking how she could best make away with 
 the child, she saw a wicked-looking wolf in the garden, 
 looking up at her, and licking his chops. She lost no time, 
 but snatched the child from the arms of the sleeping wo- 
 man, and pitched it out. The beast caught it in his mouth, 
 and was over the garden fence in a minute. The wicked 
 woman then pricked her own fingers, and dabbled the blood 
 round the mouth of the sleeping mother. 
 
 Well, the young king was just then coming into the 
 big bawn from hunting, and as soon as he entered the 
 house, she beckoned to him, shed a few crocodile tears, be- 
 gan to cry and wring her hands, and hurried him along the 
 passage to the bedchamber. 
 
 Oh, wasn't the poor king frightened w 7 hen he saw the 
 queen's mouth bloody, and missed his child 1 It would 
 
 2 
 
1 8 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 take two hours to tell you the devilment of the old queen, 
 the confusion, and f right, and grief of young king and queen, 
 the bad opinion he began to feel of his wife, and the struggle 
 she had to keep down her bitter sorrow, and not give way 
 to it by speaking or lamenting. The young king would 
 not allow any one to be called, and ordered his step -mother 
 to give out that the child fell from the mother's arms at 
 the window, and that a wild beast ran off with it. The 
 wicked woman pretended to do so, but she told under- 
 hand to everybody she spoke tp,, what the king and herself 
 saw in the bedchamber. 
 
 The young queen was the most unhappy woman in the 
 three kingdoms for a long time, between sorrow for her 
 child, and her husband's bad opinion ; still she neither spoke 
 nor cried, and she gathered bog-down and went on with 
 the shirts. Often the twelve wild geese would be seen 
 lighting on the trees in the park or on the smooth sod, and 
 looking in at her windows. So she worked on to get the 
 shirts finished, but another "year was at an end, and she had 
 the twelfth shirt finished except one arm, when she was 
 obliged to take to her bed, and a beautiful girl was born. 
 
 Now the king was on his guard, and he would not let 
 the mother and child be left alone for a minute ; but the 
 wicked woman bribed some of the attendants, set others 
 asleep, gave the sleepy posset to the queen, and had a per- 
 son watching to snatch the child away, and kill it. But 
 what should she see but the same wolf in the garden look- 
 ing up/ and licking his chops again ^ Out went the child, 
 and away with it flew the wolf, and she smeared the sleep- 
 ing mother's mouth and face with blood, and then roared, 
 and bawled, and cried out to the king and to everybody she 
 met, and the room was rilled, and every one was sure the 
 young queen had just devoured her own babe. 
 
 The poor mother thought now her life would leave her. 
 She was in such a state she could neither think nor pray, 
 but she sat like a stone, and worked away at the arm of the 
 twelfth shirt. 
 
 The king was for taking her to the house in the wood 
 where he found her, but the stepmother, and the lords of 
 the court, and the judges would not hear of it, and she was 
 
THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. 1 9 
 
 condemned to be burned in the big bawn at three o'clock 
 the same day. When the hour drew near, the king went 
 to the farthest part of his palace, and there was no more 
 unhappy man in his kingdom at that hour. 
 
 When the executioners came and led her off, she took 
 the pile of shirts in her arms. There were still a few 
 stitches wanted, and while they were tying her to the stake, 
 she still worked on. At the last stitch she seemed overcome 
 and dropped a tear on her work, but the moment after she 
 sprang up, and shouted out^"I am innocent ; call my hus- 
 band ! " The executioners stayed their hands, except one 
 wicked-disposed creature who set fire to the faggot next 
 him, and while all were struck in amaze, there was a rush- 
 ing of wings, and in a moment the twelve wild geese were 
 standing round the pile. Before you could count twelve, 
 she flung a shirt over every bird, and there in the twink- 
 ling of an eye were twelve of the finest young men that 
 could be collected out of a thousand. While some were 
 untying their sister, the eldest, taking a strong stake in his 
 hand, struck the busy executioner such a blow that he 
 never needed another. 
 
 While they were comforting the young queen, and the 
 king was hurrying to the spot, a fine -looking woman ap- 
 peared among them holding the babe on one arm and the 
 little prince by the hand. There was nothing but crying 
 for joy, and laughing for joy, and hugging and kissing, and 
 when any one had time to thank the good fairy, who in 
 the shape of a wolf, carried the child away, she was not t< i 
 be found. Never was such happiness enjoyed in any pa- 
 lace that ever was built, and if the wicked queen and her 
 helpers were not torn by wild horses they richly deserved it. 
 
 THE WONDERFUL CAKE. 
 
 A mouse, a rat, and a little red hen once lived to- 
 gether in the same cabin, and one day the little red hen 
 said, " Let us bake a cake and have a feast." " Let us," 
 says the mouse ; and " let us," says the rat. " Who'll go 
 
 2* 
 
2 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 get the wheat ground ?" says the hen. " I wont," says the 
 mouse ; " I won't," says the rat ; " I'll go myself," says the 
 little red hen. " Who'll make the cake f " I won't," says 
 the mouse ; " I won't," says the rat ; " I will myself," says 
 
 the little red hen " Who'll eat the cake 1 " « I 
 
 will," says the mouse ; 'II will," says the rat; "Dickens a bit 
 you shall," says the little red hen. Well, while the hen 
 was putting over her hand to it, magh go brath with it out 
 of the door, and after it with the three housekeepers. 
 
 When it was running away, it went by a barn full of 
 thrashers, and they asked it wfere it was running. " Oh," 
 says it, " I'm running away from the mouse, the rat, and 
 the little red hen, and from you too if I can." So they 
 piked away after it with their flails, and it run and it run 
 till it came to a ditch full of ditchers, and they asked it 
 
 where it was running " Oh, I'm running away 
 
 from the mouse, the rat, and the little red hen, and from a 
 barn full of thrashers, and from you too if I can." Well 
 they all ran after it along with the rest till it came to a well 
 full of washers, and they asked the same question, and it 
 returned the same answer, and after it they went. At last 
 it came to a ford where it met with a fox, who asked where 
 it was running. " Oh, I'm running away from the mouse, 
 the rat, and the little red hen, from a barn full of thrash- 
 ers, a ditch full of ditchers, a well full of washers, a crumply- 
 horned cow, a saddled-backed sow, and from you too if I 
 can." " But you can't cross the ford," says the fox. "And 
 can't you carry me over 2" says the cake. " What'll you 
 give me V says the fox. " A kiss at Christmas, and an egg 
 at Easter," says the cake. " Yery well," says the fox — "up 
 with you." 
 
 So he sat on his currabingo with his nose in the air, and 
 the cake got up by his tail till it sat on his crupper. "Now 
 over with you," says the cake. " You're not high enough." 
 Then it scrambled up on his shoulder. " Up higher still," 
 says he, " you wouldn't be safe there." " Am I right now X* 
 says the cake, when it was on his head. " Not quite," says 
 he; " you'll be safer on the ridge pole of my nose." 
 " Well," says the cake, " I think I can go no further." 
 " Oh, yes," says he, and he shot it up in the air, caught it 
 in his mouth, and sent it down the red lane. 
 
[ *» ] 
 
 THE FALSE BRIDE. 
 
 There was once a king and a queen that loved each other 
 very much, and they had a beautiful and kindly disposi- 
 tioned daughter. But the queen was taken ill, and when 
 she was dying she called her daughter alone to her bed- 
 side, and fastened a woven ring of hair, and silk, and gold 
 thread on her left arm, just under her shoulder, and said, 
 " Now, my dear daughter, you must be very careful not 
 to let any womankind get possession of that ring. It 
 was given to me by a good fairy when you were an infant, 
 and she said that as long as you wore it, no one could do 
 you any real harm. But if once it was taken from you, 
 she that took it would command you in every way, and if 
 she was as ugly as sin, you should take her appearance, and 
 it was in her power to take yours, the moment the change 
 was made." 
 
 When the queen was dead, one lady of the court, who 
 had rather an ugly looking daughter, became very loving 
 to the young princess, and she spoke of the king's loss so 
 feelingly, and pitied him so much, that the princess thought 
 it would be the finest thing in the world if her father would 
 make her his second wife. So she was evermore speaking 
 of the lady's goodness of heart, and nice manners, and she 
 plagued her father so, that to get rid of the bother he 
 married the cunning lady at last. The first dinner they all 
 took together, the new queen gave wine to the princess, 
 and water to her own girl ; the next, she gave them both 
 wine, and the third, the poor princess had to put up with 
 water. By degrees she turned her father very much against 
 her, telling him all manner of lies and stories, and when 
 there were great parties she would not be allowed to join 
 in them, because the young nobles and princes would dance 
 oftener with her, and entertain her with discourse much 
 oftener than her step- sister, for this one had a bad temper 
 as well as an ugly face. 
 
 So the poor young lady spent a great deal of her time in 
 her chamber, or when the weather was fine, out in the park, 
 sometimes walking, and sometimes sitting under the trees 
 and doing needle-work. One day she was hemming a 
 
22 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 handkerchief, with her little dog on one side and her work 
 basket on the other, and a voice that she thought belonged 
 to one of the gentlemen of the court said, " Who are you 
 hemming the handkerchief for, fair lady? " " For the King 
 of Norway's son," said she by way of joke. "Then I am a 
 happy man/' said the voice, " for I am that person." She 
 looked up, and all the blood in her veins rushed into her 
 face, for she saw she was speaking with a noble -looking, 
 and well-formed, and handsome young man with rich 
 clothes on him. I won't tire jou with all the confusion at 
 first, and the charming discourse that followed; but, to 
 make a long story short, she ran home, and the prince soon 
 followed her, and paid his respects to her father, and asked 
 for her in marriage. Well, he didn't get a refusal, but the 
 step -mother and step-sister were as mad as you please at 
 the preference that was shown her. 
 
 The young prince soon returned home to prepare for the 
 wedding, and in a week's time the princess was sent after 
 him, and a company of gentlemen and attendants went 
 with her, to do her honour and protect her from accidents, 
 and her step-sister went also, out of respect as she said. 
 But she got some lessons in private from her mother. 
 
 One day they stopped at a nobleman's house, and as it 
 was hot weather the princess, and the step-sister, and the 
 step-sister's maid went down to a summer-house that was 
 on the edge of the lake to bathe. When the three w T ere in 
 the water, the step-sister took hold of the princess by the 
 arm, and said with a wicked tone, and her teeth almost 
 closed, " Loose that platted ring from your arm, and give 
 it to me quietly, or we will drown you here without pity." 
 vShe begged and prayed for mercy, but all to no use. She 
 forgot that they could do her no harm while she had the 
 ring, and so, to save her young life, she unclasped it, and 
 fastened it on the other's arm. The moment it was on 
 the appearances of both were changed, and the princess got 
 the ugly look of her step-sister, who was now as beautiful 
 as she had been a minute before. " Now," says the wicked 
 girl, " swear that you will never tell to any human being, 
 young or old, what has happened, or drowned you shall be." 
 So, to save her life, she took the oath. 
 
THE FALSE BRIDE. 2J 
 
 They went on again after their rest ; the step-sister as 
 beautiful as the lily and rose, and the princess as ordinary 
 in feature as if she were a tinker's daughter, but their dis- 
 positions remained the same as before. No one saw the dif- 
 ference but the little dog, and now he would not come near 
 the false princess, whatever patting or coaxing she could 
 try. The young prince of Norway was right glad to wel- 
 come his bride to her new home, but after a little he was 
 surprised at the tone of her voice, and the coarse kind of 
 talk she used, and her bad temper. 
 
 The wedding was celebrated, and I'll leave you to feel for 
 the poor princess that day and night and for a week after. 
 The bride got little comfort in her new life. She had great 
 grandeur, but she saw that her husband didn't care for her; 
 he found such a difference in her discourse from what he 
 heard from her at her father's palace, and there was nothing 
 good-natured, or witty, or pleasant in all that came out of 
 her lips. Every one liked the poor ugly sister, she was so 
 cheerful and kind with gentle and simple. Even the prince 
 would chat as long with her as his wife would let him, and 
 the old king grew as fond of her as if she was his daughter. 
 
 This did not at all please the bride, and so she told the 
 princess to make ready for her return. She was to set out 
 in three days, and every one in the court was sorry, but so 
 it should be. Well, the next day, a young boy that was 
 employed in the kitchen watched the old king when he 
 was taking a walk in the grove, and says he, " I ask pardon, 
 but I could not help telling your majesty what I heard the 
 young queen's sister saying to her little dog last night when 
 she thought every one was asleep. She went out in the 
 garden, and I thought it so queer that I crept after in the 
 shade, till she went into the summer-house, and sobbed and 
 cried as if her heart was going to break. ' My poor faith- 
 ful little dog/ said she, ' little does my father or the young 
 prince that should be my husband, know what my wicked 
 step- sister did to me ; how she and her maid went about 
 drowning me till I was forced to take the platted ring off 
 my own arm and put it on hers, and how our appearances 
 were changed from that moment ; and that she who lies by 
 his side now is not his own love at all, but the wicked 
 
24 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 daughter of a wicked mother. I am obliged by a solemn 
 oath not to tell this treachery to any human being, but if 
 I did not speak about it my heart would break, and so I 
 tell it to you, my dear little dog/ And then she lamented 
 her fate so bitterly that I couldn't help crying. For fear 
 she should find out that she was heard, I did not stir till 
 I saw her going up the walk and into the castle." 
 
 " Don't say a word of this to any one at your peril," said 
 the old king to the boy, " and you shall be well rewarded 
 for your discovery." He went in and requested the bride 
 and bridegroom and the princess to come into his own pri- 
 vate room, and there, while all were wondering what he had 
 to say, he asked the bride if she wore on her left arm under 
 the shoulder a platted ring of hair, and silk, and gold- 
 thread. She reddened up, but did not deny it, as the bride- 
 groom saw it more than once. " Will you please to let all 
 the present company look at it 1 " said he. Well, she was 
 very unwilling, but thought better to comply. " Oblige 
 me now, ma'am," said he, "by opening the clasp." " I 
 don't know how," said she. " That's true, at any rate/' 
 said the king. " Perhaps, madam," said he to the princess, 
 "you know the plan." " Oh, you forsworn creature!" said 
 the bride, "aren't you afraid of breaking your solemn oath?" 
 " She broke no oath," said the king. " She told her dismal 
 story to her little dog in the summer-house last night, and 
 he that overheard it told it to me. Dear daughter," said 
 he to her, " open the clasp." " She shall not," cried the 
 wicked bride, " while I have life or strength ; " and she 
 stamped like a fury. Three of the guards were called in, 
 and very hard they found it to keep her quiet while the 
 princess loosened the clasp. There she was the next mo- 
 ment as ugly as sin, and her own beautiful colour and fea- 
 tures came back to the true princess. I need not tell you 
 how the wicked girl was sent back to her mother, bound 
 hand and foot, and how the king banished them both from 
 his kingdom, and threatened to have them torn by wild 
 horses if ever they dared to return. Well, another marriage 
 was soon celebrated, and if there wasn't joy and happiness 
 at it, there's no such thing in the world. And if yourselves 
 and myself were living within ten miles of the palace, I'm 
 sure we'd get an invitation. 
 
[ *5 1 
 
 THE END OF THE WOKLD. 
 
 A Hen was standing under a hazel-tree one day, and a nut 
 fell on her tail. Away she ran to the Cock, and says she, 
 u Cocky Locky, the end of the world is come." " How do 
 you know, Henny Penny 1 " says he. " Oh, a nut fell on 
 my tail just now." " If that he so, we have nothing for it 
 but to run away." So they ran till they met the Duck. 
 " Oh, Ducky Lucky, the end of the world is come." "How 
 do you know, Cocky Locky ? " " Oh, a nut fell just now 
 on Henny Penny's tail." " If that be so, we must run for 
 it." When they were pegging off, they met the Goose. 
 " Oh, Goosey Poosey, the end of the world is come." " How 
 do you know, Ducky Lucky | " "A nut fell on Henny 
 Penny's tail just now." " If that be the case, we are done for." 
 They met the Fox. " Oh, Foxy Coxy, the world is come 
 to an end." " How do you know that, Goosey Poosey 1 " 
 " Oh, a nut fell on Henny Penny's tail." "Then let us be 
 off." So they got into the wood, and says Foxy Coxy, 
 " Let me count if all are safe. I, Foxy Coxy, one ; you, 
 Goosey Poosey, two ; Ducky Lucky, three ; Cocky Locky, 
 four ; Henny Penny, five. Number five, I'll put you in a 
 safe place where the end of the world won't hurt you." So 
 he took Henny Penny behind a bush and put her out of 
 pain. " Now," says he, coming back, " let us count if all 
 the rest are safe. I, Foxy Coxy, one ; you, Goosey Poosey, 
 two ; &c. &c. Number four, I'll put you in a place where 
 you'll be safe when the end of the world comes." He took 
 him behind another bush, &c. &c. &c. " Now let me see 
 if all the rest are here. I, Foxy Coxy, one; &c. &c. &c;" 
 and so on till he put the fear of the world's end out of every 
 one of them. 
 
 THE THREE GIFTS. 
 
 There was once a widow woman and she had only one 
 son, an innocent slob of a boy, and one summer when the 
 food was scarce and dear, Jack said he'd not be a burthen 
 
26 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 to his mother any longer, but go and look for service. 
 Well, the poor mother gave him her best blessing, and he 
 began to make the road short. He walked all day till 
 the heel of the evening, and then he took up at a farmer's 
 house where he got his supper and a bed. All the talk of 
 the family, the whole evening, was about outwitting people 
 in making bargains, and how every one chuckled while he 
 was telling how he passed off an old useless horse for a 
 young one, or got a good price for a regular fowler of a pig. 
 And the women were as bad as the men, boasting of how 
 they cheated customers by passing off layers of bad butter 
 under the good, and selling musty eggs for fresh, and I 
 don't know all. The very old couple laughed at the chil- 
 dren telling how they won pins and buttons by cheatery at 
 pitch and toss and such games. Jack wondered at the sort 
 of people he got among, but he was in no danger of falling 
 in love with their ways. 
 
 Well, as roguish as they appeared, they were not without 
 good nature. They gave him a good supper of potatoes, 
 milk, and butter, and the only harm I wish King George 
 is, that he may never have worse. They gave him a quarter 
 of a barley griddle-cake next day, and he continued his 
 quest. Late in the evening he came out on a common that 
 had in the middle of it a rock or a great pile of stones 
 overgrown with furze bushes, and, when he came up, there 
 was a dwelling-house, and a cow-house, and a goat's-house, 
 and a pig-stye all scooped out of the rock, and the cows 
 were going into the byre, and the goats into their house, 
 but the pigs were grunting and bawling before the door. 
 
 There was a comely old woman leaning over the half- 
 door, scolding the pigs for being so impatient. Jack bade 
 her the time of the evening, and she gave him back his 
 good manners, and said if he wished to rest for the night 
 he was welcome. There was nothing Jack liked better. 
 So he got a good supper, and an offer to give him good 
 wages if he stopped to mind her live stock, and the little 
 plot of potatoes and corn that was sown. 
 
 So he agreed to try a quarter, and never was a quarter 
 spent pleasanter. He looked after the puckawn and his 
 twelve goats, the ram and sheep, and the black cattle, 
 
THE THREE GIFTS. 2/ 
 
 reaped the little plot of corn, and weeded the potato drills. 
 His mistress and himself had never a cross word. She 
 wasn't a fidget, and Jack was not lazy, and he'd often catch 
 himself saying, " Our cows and our goats," as if he was 
 partly a master, and she never thought the worse of him 
 for it. At last the quarter came to an end, and his mistress 
 bade him go home and see his mother, and come back to 
 her if he liked. " Here's the wages I'll give you," said she, 
 laying a hen on the table. " Do not ask it to do anything 
 till you reach home ; then throw some oats on the table, 
 and say, ' Hen, hen, lay your eggs.' " 
 
 Jack knew the woman's good heart, and took away the 
 hen as contented as if he got ten pounds. He got lodging 
 at the same house as before, and they asked him ever so 
 many questions, chiefly about the wages. He was such a 
 slob of a fellow that the smallest child in the house was 
 able to turn him inside out, so he acknowledged that the 
 only wages he got for the quarter was the hen. " Oh, but 
 you're the divel's own gommula of a Jack," says the man of 
 the house, "for taking such wages. Put the carkeen on 
 the table, and let us see what she can do." " Give us a 
 handful of oats," says Jack. The oats was spilled out, and 
 Jack said the words he was told, and the hen began to pick 
 and to lay golden eggs as fast as you could reckon them, and 
 such looks as every one gave, and such opening of eyes and 
 clucking of tongues, and ohs ! and ahs ! no one ever heard in 
 one place. When she laid about a score of eggs, Jack 
 thought it was enough for one time, and he took all and 
 bade the banatigh hold out her apron. 
 
 Every one paid Jack a great deal of respect the rest of 
 the night. He asked leave to go to the barn when he felt 
 himself sleepy, but dickens a foot they'd let him. He was 
 put to sleep in a feather bed in one of the rooms below the 
 parlour, and the hen was provided with a nice nest along- 
 side of him. After a good breakfast next day they filled 
 his pocket with a split cake and plenty of butter inside 
 of it. When the hugging and kissing between himself 
 and his mother was over, says she, " Jack, asthore, did you 
 bring anything home with you V " Faith, an' I did, 
 mother," says he. " There's a hen that will make our 
 
28 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND^ 
 
 fortune/' " Hen inagh t musha what great value is the 
 finest hen in Ireland ! " " You'll see, mother, after you 
 give her some oats on the table." The oats were spilled, 
 and Jack said the same words as before, " Hen, hen, lay 
 your eggs/' but she went on picking, and not an iotum 
 of an egg did she lay. " Well, Jack, my poor fellow, you 
 were a gaum before you went to travel and you are a gaum 
 after it. " Mother/' says Jack, " I was deceived, that's all ; 
 but Fll try my fortune again." He took up at the farmer's 
 house, and told how the hen wouldn't lay a single golden 
 egg for him at his mother's. " What hen 1 " said they. 
 " The one that laid the twenty golden eggs on that table." 
 " Oh, my poor fellow, it's a dream you had the same night. 
 The hen you had with you never laid an egg of any kind 
 while she was here," and Jack didn't know what to think. 
 He returned to his old mistress, and told her what hap- 
 pened him. " Couldn't you take my advice, Jack, and not 
 try what your hen would do till you got home 1 The hen 
 now at your mother's is not the one you took from here." 
 " Lord ! " says he, " would the dacent people that lodged 
 and fed me do such a mean act 1 " and he began to think. 
 "No help for misfortunes, Jack," says his mistress. " Go 
 to your work, and we'll see what luck's in store for you in 
 another quarter's time." 
 
 So he worked away like a May boy, and the cows, and 
 goats, and sheep seemed all glad to see him again, for he 
 was always a good head to them. But the old lady didn't 
 keep him more than a week till she popped him home. 
 "Here, Jack," says she, "is a table-cloth, but you are not 
 to open it till you get home to your mother. Then spread 
 it on the table, and say ' Table-cloth, do your duty/ and if 
 you don't be surprised, I'm not speaking to you." Jack 
 set out, and got lodging again at the same house, but he 
 took good care not to show his treasure ; he kept it folded 
 round his body. Well, they began to joke on him about 
 his dream, and to ask him what new prize he got. He held 
 out a long time, but one of the children peeped under his 
 coat, and saw the cloth. Well, they gave him no ease, but 
 undervalued the article, and ridiculed him till at last out of 
 bravery he spread it on the table, and cried out, " Table- 
 
THE THREE GIFTS. 29 
 
 cloth, do your duty." In a moment it was covered with 
 dishes, and plates, and jugs, and tumblers, and knives and 
 forks, all of pure gold, and the nicest meat and loaves were 
 on the dishes, and sweet wine and ale in the jugs and tum- 
 blers. Every one was amazed, and Jack was not slow in 
 asking them to fall to. They didn't need much pressing, 
 and when all were satisfied, Jack insisted that the mistress 
 of the house should put up all the gold vessels in her cup- 
 board. 
 
 He was put to sleep in the same feather bed, and his 
 cloth was put under his pillow by the mistress, and he got 
 his bread and butter for the road, and his mother laughed 
 at him when the table-cloth would do no more for him than 
 the hen ; and the farmer's family laughed worse when he 
 came back ; they called it his second dream ; and so he re- 
 turned very low-spirited to his old mistress that lived un- 
 der the bushy rocks. 
 
 " Jack," says she, " I see nothing can be done for you 
 nor for any one that can't say no, nor stand a jest. All my 
 gifts are spent but one, and that's no great thing. Such as 
 it is you may take it. Whenever you say ' Stick, do your 
 duty,' you will very likely see something you didn't expect. 
 You are always welcome to come back to me ; but I'll give 
 you no more wonderful presents. I'll give you just five 
 pounds a quarter, as long as you stay with me; but first go 
 back this one time more. 
 
 Jack got lodging in the same house, but he took no care 
 to hide his stick, and I don't think any of them set any 
 value on it more than himself. So they spoke of one thing 
 and another, but though they pretended to feel no curiosity 
 about what the stick could do, the discourse always came 
 back to it. " Well," says Jack at last, " as I showed you 
 the virtue of the other gifts, or dreamed I showed them 
 (maybe I'm only dreaming now), I wont be a churl about 
 this. Stick, do your duty." Oh, the moment he said the 
 words, the stick flew from the head and shoulders of one 
 to the head and shoulders of another, whacking, and crack- 
 ing, and banging, and everyone roaring out, " Murdher, 
 murdher !" and such a piece of confusion was never seen 
 before under one roof. No one could get more than a rub 
 
30 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 or two at his bruises when his turn came round again. 
 And it was one chorus of roaring and bawling. " Oh, Jack 
 honey," says the woman of the house, " stop this mischief 
 of a stick, and you must have your hen again/' " But you 
 know, ma'am, it was only a dream." "Dream or no dream, 
 here she is." " Stick, stick, will that do ?" said Jack, but 
 it only went on throuncing harder than ever. " Well, Jack, 
 here is the cloth also, and now stop it for goodness' sake." 
 Stop it did like shot, at Jack's bidding, and came back to 
 Jack's hand, but it was long before the groans and moans 
 were at an end. 
 
 Jack would not sleep under the roof of such people. He 
 rested in the barn the rest of the night on a good pile of 
 straw, and next evening he was at home. You can hardly 
 imagine the mother's surprise when she saw the hen lay 
 golden eggs, and the cloth covered with gold vessels. Every 
 one that was in need was the better of Jack's good luck ; 
 but in the beginning he did as much harm as service with 
 his generosity to lazy and wicked creatures, but he learned 
 wisdom all in good time. He and his mother drove in a 
 carriage to the common where the good fairy lived ; the 
 common was there, and so was the rock with all the bushes, 
 but neither house, nor mistress, nor the sheep, nor the cows, 
 nor the puckawn, nor his troop of goats. 
 
 > ♦ ♦ ♦ < 
 
 THE UNLUCKY MESSENGER. 
 
 There jsvas once a farmer's wife that had a servant boy, 
 and this poor boy's memory wasn't very good, nor indeed 
 was himself bright in any way. She sent him one day to 
 the butcher's in the next town for some hearts and livers 
 and lights, and gave him a shilling. " But/' said she, " I'm 
 afraid you won't remember what I'm sending for." " Oh 
 faith I will, ma'am," says he, " I'll be saying 'em the whole 
 way, hearts and livers and lights ; — hearts and livers and 
 lights." "Well, do so, Jack, and maybe you'll succeed this 
 time." 
 
 Jack went on repeating his message like a May-boy, till 
 
THE UNLUCKY MESSENGER. 3 I 
 
 he met a man that was returning home from a sea- voyage. 
 His face was as yellow as a kite's claw, and just as he was 
 passing Jack he gave him a slap in the jaw that almost 
 knocked him down. " Wbat's that forT says poor Jack. 
 H What was I doing to you V " You mischievous brat, I 
 can hardly keep my heart liver and lights from flying out 
 of my mouth I J m so sea- sick, and the very mention of them 
 is almost after turning me inside out/' " Well, and what 
 am I to he saying V 9 " Why, if you can't keep your tougue 
 easy, say ' May they never come up !'" "Very well," says 
 Jack. " Hearts — no, may they never come up, may they 
 never come up !" 
 
 He was passing by a field where men were planting pota- 
 toes, and the first of them that heard him, jumped over the 
 ditch and began to kick poor Jack. " Oh ! what's that for? 
 Sure I'm doin' no harm to yez." " Do you call that bad 
 prayer, no harm, you thief 1 instead of saying, like a good 
 neighbour, l Two hundred this year ; three hundred next 
 year.'" " Oh, very well," says Jack, " I'll say that to please 
 you/' and he went on saying, " Two hundred this year ; 
 three hundred next year." 
 
 Well, a funeral was entering the churchyard just as Jack 
 went by repeating his last lesson. " Oh, you nasty Turk !" 
 says an old woman, " is them the prayers you're saying for 
 the poor corpse's sowl, wishing for so many deaths ?" " I'm 
 not wishing for any one's death, God forbid!" "Then 
 don't be repatin' them hathenish words." " And what 
 words will I be repatin' if you please, ma'am f " Any 
 good prayer at all, suppose, 'Peace be with him !' " "Any- 
 thing to please you, ma'am. — Peace be with him ; peace 
 be with him !" 
 
 He was passing by a farmer's bawn just as a fox was 
 skelpin' away with a chicken in his mouth, and the whole 
 family after him. While they kept on shouting, he kept 
 on saying, "Peace be with him; peace be with him !" — "Oh, 
 
 the d pace you !" says the man of the house ; " what a 
 
 nice thing to wish for the red thief I" " An' what ought 
 I say 1" " If you must say anything, let it be "Hang the 
 brute !" ' " Oh, very well, one thing's as good as another. 
 Hang the brute 3 hang the brute !" 
 
32 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 A poor woman was getting along, and striving to keep 
 her drunken husband from falling. When she heard what 
 Jack was saying, she laid the man down easy by the side 
 of the road, new on Jack, knocked off his hat, boxed his 
 ears for him, and pulled his hair. "Musha, ma'am, what's 
 that for V 1 says Jack. " It's for what you said to my poor 
 husband," says the woman y " an' he the best man in the 
 five townlands, only when he's overtaken." " An' I wish 
 you hadn't overtaken me ; and what ought I to say, to 
 please you V 7 " Oh, any good wish at all. ' May you 
 never be separated,' will do." "Well, well! May you 
 never be separated ; may you never be separated." 
 
 The road was going by the edge of a bog, when what 
 should he see but two men down in a deep hole, and one 
 striving to drag the other out. When the strongest heard 
 what he was saying, he cried out, " Stop there till I go up 
 to you." And as sure as he did get up, he gave poor Jack 
 a good beating. " Musha, musha !" says the poor fellow, 
 " I'm doing what everybody is bidding me, and everybody 
 is throuncin' me, and what's it all for V 1 " It's for your bad 
 wishes, it is." " And what do you wish me to pray for ]" 
 " Say, ' One out ; may the other soon be out.' " " Oh, very 
 well." 
 
 He was saying as hard as he could, " One out ; may the 
 other be soon out !" when he met a man blind of one eye. 
 Well, he was so mad he fell on Jack, and all he got before 
 w T as only a Hay-bite to what he suffered from this customer. 
 " Ah, what are you baten' me this way for'?" says the poor 
 fellow. " For your impedence, and your bad prayers," says 
 he. " And what am I to be saying then ?" says Jack. "I'd 
 advise you to be saying nothing at all." " Yery well : no- 
 thing at all ; nothing at all," went on Jack repeating till 
 he came to the butcher's. " Well, my man, what do you 
 want V' " Nothing at all ; nothing at all." " Well, take 
 it, and be off with yourself." u Oh, but I want something 
 for the mistress." " What is it V 7 " Dickens a bit of me 
 knows. I said so many raimshogues along the road, it's 
 got out of my head. Nothing at all ! One out ; may the 
 other soon be out ! Hang the brute ! Two hundred this 
 year, &c. ; &c. Oh ! bego7iies, I'll never be able to recollect 
 
THE UNLUCKY MESSENGER. $$ 
 
 it.' 7 "What did your mistress give youT "A shillin'." 
 " Give me the shilling and I'll give you what you want." 
 He did so. " Open your fist." He opened it, and the 
 butcher put his mouth down into it, and I needn't say what 
 he left behind him. He shut the fingers down on it again. 
 " Now don't open your fist for your life till you get home 
 to your mistress. She'll find what she wants inside of your 
 fingers and thumb. Don't let a hare catch you till you're 
 inside the house." Jack did as he was bid, and it's meself 
 that's glad I wasn't standing in his shoes that day, when 
 the mistress was lambasting him. 
 
 THE MAID IN THE COUNTRY UNDER GROUND. 
 
 There was once a man that was left a widower with a 
 good and handsome daughter; but bethought fit to marry 
 a widow, a very bad woman, who had a daughter as wicked 
 as herself. They did all they could, by telling lies on her, 
 to persuade her father to turn her away, but he would not. 
 So one day that she was sent to the draw-well her step- 
 mother came behind her, and threw her head foremost into 
 it. • She gave herself up for dead ; but wasn't she surprised, 
 after her breath was stopped for a while, to find herself 
 lying in a green meadow, with a bright sun and blue sky 
 over her % Well, she walked on till she came to a hedge, 
 that was so old it was not able to bear up a bird. "I'm 
 old and worn, fair maid," said the hedge ; " step lightly 
 over me." " That I will do with pleasure, poor hedge," 
 said she. So she stepped so gently and lightly over, that 
 not a twig w r as stirred. " I'll do you a good turn another 
 time," said the hedge. 
 
 She went on a while till she came to where an oven 
 stood with a hot fire under it, and all at once the loaves 
 spoke. " Take us out, take us out, fair maiden. We're 
 baking for seven years, and now we'll be all burned if you 
 don't release us." So she took the shovel, opened the door, 
 and laid them nicely side by side on the grass. "Now take 
 one of us with you," said the loaves, " and good luck be in 
 
 3 
 
34 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 your road." She went on, and found a poor woman sitting 
 on a stone, and crying with the hunger. She gave her the 
 greater part of her loaf, and went on till she met a flight 
 of sparrows sitting on a block, and they all chattered out, 
 " Some crumbs, fair maid; some crumbs, fair maid, or we'll 
 all be dead with the hunger. It's seven years since we got 
 a good meal/' So she crumbled the rest of the bread, and 
 they all cried, "Some day, fair maid, this good will be 
 surely repaid." 
 
 She next passed by an apple tree, and the branches were 
 bent down to the ground with the fruit. " Shake me, 
 shake me, fair maid ; it's seven years since I was shaken 
 before." So she gently shook the tree and the boughs, 
 and gathered all into a nice heap round the trunk. " Take 
 some in your hand and eat them," said the tree ; I'll re- 
 member this deed some day." The next she met was a 
 ram, with his wool all trailing on the ground behind him. 
 " Shear me, fair maid," said he, " for I wasn't shorn for 
 seven long years." So she laid his head on her knee, 
 and clipped him so nice, that he cried out when she 
 was walking away, " Fair maid, IT1 do you a good turn for 
 this some day." The next she met was a cow, with her 
 poor elder (udder) so full that it was trailing on the ground. 
 " Milk me, fair maid," said she ; " I wasn't milked frhese 
 seven long years." So she did, and the cow licked her, and 
 mooed after her, " Fair maid, I'll do you a good turn for 
 this some day." 
 
 Well, the day was spent, and she got lodging at a lonely 
 house, where there was no one but a woman with hair on 
 her chin, and very long teeth, and her daughter that had 
 the same sort of teeth, but no beard as yet. They gave her 
 some mouldy bread and some small beer for supper, and 
 next day when she was going off, they said there was no 
 one else living in that underground country, and so she 
 might as well live with themselves. " I'll give you food 
 and clothes," said the old woman, "and your choice of 
 three caskets when you are leaving me, and one of them • 
 contains more gold and silver and precious stones than the 
 king of England has in his court." 
 
 The first task she gave her was to go milk the cows, 
 
THE MAID IN THE COUNTRY UNDER GROUND. 35 
 
 but when she went into the byre where they stood, they 
 lued, and they kicked, and they horned, so that she was 
 afraid to come near them. But a flight of sparrows came 
 in, and lighted on their heads, and took hold of their ears, 
 and they stood as quiet as lambs till they were milked. 
 Then they all chirruped, " This is what we do for reward- 
 ing of you, fair maiden, fair maiden, for giving us crumbs, 
 for giving us crumbs." Then they all new off, and very 
 sour looks she got from the two women inside for getting 
 away with her life from the cows. " It was not from your 
 own breast you sucked your knowledge/' said the young 
 one. 
 
 The next morning said the old witch, " Take this short 
 black hank of thread and this long white hank to the 
 stream, and bring the black one back to me white, and 
 the white one black, or you'll sup sorrow." The poor girl 
 took the hanks with a heavy heart and went to the spring, 
 and washed and cried till she was weary, and then sat down 
 on a stone, and wrung her hands. Who should come up 
 at the moment but the poor woman she fed the day she 
 cleared the oven, and she did no more than swale the 
 white hank with the stream, and the black hank against 
 the stream, and the colours were changed in a moment. 
 "This is the good turn I promised you, fair maiden," said 
 she, and she vanished. 
 
 As vexed as the witches were beiipre, they were twice as 
 much vexed now, and their faces were fiery and vinegary 
 enough to frighten a horse from his fodder. " Wait till 
 to-morrow ! " said they to themselves. 
 
 When the breakfast of mouldy bread and small beer was 
 over, said the old hag, " Take that sieve to the stream, and 
 bring it back full of water; there mustn't be a drop want- 
 ing." So she went and tried to fill it, and it was no sooner 
 full than it was empty, and she began to cry. Oh, where 
 are my sparrows and my fairy now ]" said she. " Hero 
 we are," said the birds. 
 
 " Stuff with moss, 
 Plaster with clay, 
 And carry it full 
 Of water away." 
 
 3* 
 
S6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 She did so, and took home the sieve full to the brim. 
 " Oh, ho ;" said the angry old witch, " you're too clever for 
 us, I see. Go up to that loft, and take your choice of three 
 caskets you'll find on the table.' ; She went up, and there 
 were three caskets — one of gold, one of silver, and one of 
 lead. She was in doubt which to select, till she heard the 
 sparrows twittering on the roof at the skylight, " Pass by 
 the gold, pass by the silver, but take up the lead, fair 
 maiden." So she did, but as she was quitting the house 
 the old witch was so vexed at her choice, that she snapped 
 up a burning log, and flung it after her. 
 
 She ran away very swiftly and as swift came the witches 
 after her, till she came up to where the cow was standing. 
 " Come under me," says the cow ; "Til hide you behind 
 my elder, and I'll put a charm on their eyes. "Did you 
 see a young girl pass this way V said they. "Yes," said 
 the cow, "she turned into that wood on the left." Off they 
 ran that way, and the cow licked the maiden, and off she 
 ran. Well, when she came near the ram, she heard the 
 clatter of their feet behind her. " Get under that heap of 
 wool," says he, " and they won't see you." " Earn, ram, 
 did you see a young girl run by V "Yes, I did. She ran 
 into that wood on the right." Off with them again, and 
 the maiden thanked the ram, and ran on. Just as she was 
 near the apple tree, she heard the clatter of their feet again. 
 " Get under the heapyrf apples," said the tree, and so she 
 did. "Apple tree, apple tree, did you see a young maid 
 run this Way.?" "Yes, I did. She is hiding in my branches." 
 Up they both climbed, and off ran the maid. They thought 
 to get down and pursue her, but the branches twisted round 
 them and held them fast, and it wasn't till the maid was 
 near the hedge that they were again on land. Just as she 
 was at the hedge, she heard the clatter of their feet, but the 
 fence opened a gap for her, and she was soon in the green 
 meadow where she first opened her eyes in the underground 
 world. When the hags attempted to cross the hedge it 
 pricked them with thorns and brambles, and just as they 
 were over, it tumbled on them, and it took them half a day 
 to get clear again. 
 
 A heaviness came over the maid as she sat down to rest 
 
THE MAID IN THE COUNTRY UNDER GROUND. 3 J 
 
 on a green ridge, and when she woke she found herself 
 sitting hy the well in the upper world. Her father was 
 glad to see her again, but the wicked women of the family 
 drove her to an out-house to take her meals and sleep. 
 Well, she swept it out, and brushed the cobwebs off the 
 walls, and then she sat down at a little table they gave her, 
 and opened her box to see what was inside. All the silk, 
 and gold, and silver, and jewels that were in it were enough 
 to dazzle anyone's eyes, and she began to hang the walls 
 with the silk curtains, and cover the floor with the fine 
 carpets, that grew in size according as they were wanted, 
 and then she was like a queen in her bower, with as much 
 gold, and silver, and jewels in her casket as she chose. 
 
 Oh, weren't the step-mother and her daughter in a bad 
 way when they came by chance into the room ! They 
 asked how she got all the fine things, and when she told 
 them, the daughter popped herself head foremost into the 
 well, and there she met all the same adventures as her 
 sister, but she was cross and impudent with every one, and 
 she had no one to help her milking the wicked cows, nor 
 dyeing the hanks, nor filling the sieve, and at last she chose 
 the gold casket, and when the hags sent her away after half 
 starving her, the ram and the cow pucked her with their 
 horns, and the apple tree had like to kill her with the load 
 of fruit it let fall on her, and the hedge wounded her with 
 its thorny boughs, and when she found herself by the well 
 in the upper world she was more dead than alive. It was 
 worse when she came home, and the gold casket was 
 opened, for out there swarmed toads, and frogs, and snakes, 
 that crept under the beds, and filled every corner of the 
 house ; and day after day new ones were coming out, and 
 making a purgatory on earth for herself and her mother. 
 The father was glad enough to be let live with his daughter, 
 and there was so much talk about it in the country that 
 the young king came to see the maiden. To make a long 
 story short, they were married, and if they didn't live happy 
 ever after, it surely wasn't the fault of the young queen. 
 
 >♦ ♦ +-< 
 
38 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND, 
 
 JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 
 
 There was a poor farmer who had three sons, and on the 
 same day the three boys went to seek their fortune. The 
 eldest two were sensible, industrious young men; the young- 
 est never did much at home that was any use. He loved 
 to be setting snares for rabbits, and tracing hares in the 
 snow, and inventing all sorts of funny tricks to annoy people 
 at first and then set them laughing. 
 
 The three parted at a cross-roads, and Jack took the 
 lonesomest. The day turned out rainy, and he was wet and 
 weary, you may depend, at nightfall, when he came to a 
 lonesome house a little off the road. " What do you want V 
 says a blear-eyed old woman, that was sitting at the fire. 
 " My supper and a bed to be sure," said he. " You can't 
 get it," said she. "What's to hinder me V said he. "The 
 owners of the house is," said she, " six honest men that 
 does be out mostly till three or four o'clock in the morning, 
 and if they find you here they'll skin you alive at the very 
 least." " Well, I think," said Jack, " that their very most 
 couldn't be much worse. Come, give me something out of 
 the cupboard, for here I'll stay. Skinning is not much 
 worse than catching your death of cold in a ditch or under 
 a tree such a night as this." 
 
 Begonies she got afraid, and gave him a good supper, and 
 when he was going to bed he said if she let any of the six 
 honest men disturb him when they came home she'd sup 
 sorrow for it. When he woke in the morning, there were 
 six ugly-looking spalpeens standing round his bed. He 
 leaned on his elbow, and looked at them with great con- 
 tempt. " Who are you," said the chief, " and what's your 
 business *? " " My name," says he, " is An Ceann Ghoduidlie 
 (pr. Cann Godhy, Master Thief), and my business just now 
 is to find apprentices and workmen. If I find yous any good, 
 maybe I'll give you a few lessons." Bedad they were a 
 little cowed, and says the head man, " Well, get up, and 
 after breakfast, we'll see who is to be the master, and who 
 the journeyman." 
 
 They were just done breakfast, when what should they 
 see but a farmer driving a fine large goat to market. " Will 
 
JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 39 
 
 any of you," says Jack, " undertake to steal that goat from 
 the owner before he gets out of the wood, and that without 
 the smallest violence'?" "I couldn't doit," says one, and 
 t I couldn't do it," says another. " I'm your master," says 
 Jack, " and I'll do it. ;; 
 
 He slipped out, went through the trees to where there 
 was a bend in the road, and laid down his right brogue in 
 the very middle of it. Then he ran on to another bend, 
 and laid down his left brogue and went and hid himself. 
 When the farmer sees the first brogue, he says to himself, 
 " That would be worth something if it had the fellow, but 
 it is worth nothing by itself." He goes on till he comes to 
 the second brogue. "What a fool I was," says he, "not 
 to pick up the other! I'll go back for it." So he tied the 
 goat to a sapling in the hedge, and returned for the brogue. 
 But Jack, who was behind a tree, had it already on his 
 foot, and when the man was beyond the bend he picked 
 up the other and loosened the goat, and led him off through 
 the wood. 
 
 Ochone! the poor man couldn't find the first brogue, 
 and when he came back he couldn't find the second, nor 
 neither his goat. " Mile (pr. millia) mollacht/" says he, 
 "what will I do after promising Shevaun (Siobhan, Johanna) 
 to buy her a shawl. I must only go and drive another 
 beast to the market unknownst. I'd never hear the last 
 of it if Joan found out what a fool I made of myself." 
 
 The thieves were in great admiration at Jack, and wanted 
 him to tell them how he done the farmer, but he wouldn't 
 tell them. By and by, they see the poor man driving a 
 fine fat wether the same way. "Who'll steal that wether," 
 says Jack, " before it's out of the wood, and no roughness 
 used?" "I couldn't" says one, and " I couldn't," says 
 another. "I'll try," says Jack. "Give me a good rope." 
 
 The poor farmer was jogging along and thinking of his 
 misfortune, when he sees a man hanging from the bough, 
 of a tree. "Lord save us !" says he, "the corpse wasn't 
 there an hour ago." He went on about half a quarter of a 
 mile, and there was another corpse again hanging over the 
 road. "God between us and harm," said he, "am I in my 
 right senses ] " There was another turn about the same 
 
40 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 distance, and just beyond it the third corpse was hanging. 
 " Oh, murdher ! " said he ; 6t I'm beside myself. What 
 would bring three hung men so near one another 1 I 
 must be mad. I'll go back and see if the others are there 
 still." 
 
 He tied the wether to a sapling, and back he went. But 
 when he was round the bend, down came the corpse, and 
 loosened the wether, and drove it home through the wood 
 to the robbers' house. You all may think how the poor 
 farmer felt when he could hnd no one dead or alive goiug 
 or coming, nor his wether, nor the rope that fastened him. 
 " Oh, misfortunate day ! " cried he, " what'll Shevaun say 
 to me now ? my morning gone, and the goat and wether 
 lost ! I must sell something to make the price of the shawl. 
 Well, the fat bullock is in the nearest field. She won't 
 see me taking it." 
 
 Weil, if the robbers were not surprised when Jack came 
 into the bawn with the wether. " If you do another trick 
 like this/' said the captain, " I'll resign the command to 
 you. ; ' 
 
 They soon saw the farmer going by again, driving a fat 
 bullock this time. "Who'll bring that fat bullock here," 
 says Jack, " and use no violence V " I could'nt," says one 
 and " I couldn't/' says another. " I'll try," says Jack, and 
 into the wood with him. The farmer was about the spot 
 where he saw the first brogue, when he heard the bleating 
 of a goat off at his right in the wood. 
 
 He cocked his ears, and the next thing he heard was the 
 maaing of a sheep. " Blood alive !" says he, " maybe these 
 are my own that I lost." There was more bleating and 
 more maaing. " There they are as sure as a gun," says he, 
 and he tied his bullock to a sapling that grew in the hedge, 
 and into the wood with him. When he got near the place 
 where the cries came from, he heard them a little before him 
 and on he followed them. At last, when he was about half 
 a mile from the spot where he tied the beast, the cries 
 stopped altogether. After searching and searching till he 
 was tired, he returned for his bullock ; but there wasn't the 
 ghost of a bullock there nor any where else that he searched. 
 
 This time, when the thieves saw Jack and his prize com- 
 
JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 4 1 
 
 ing into the bawn they couldn't help shouting out, " Jack 
 must be our chief/' So there was nothing but feasting and 
 drinking hand to fist the rest of the day. Before they went 
 to bed, they showed Jack the cave where their money was 
 hid, and all their disguises in another cave, and swore obe- 
 dience to him. 
 
 One morning when they were at breakfast, about a week 
 after, said they to Jack, " Will you mind the house for us 
 to-day while we are at the fair of Mochurry ? We hadn't 
 a spree for ever so long : you must get your turn whenever 
 you like." ."Never say' t twice," says Jack, and off they 
 went. After they were gone says Jack to the wicked house- 
 keeper, " Do these fellows ever make you a present V "Ah 
 catch them at it ! indeed an' they don't, purshuin to 'em. ,; 
 "Well, come along with me, and I'll make you a rich wo- 
 man." He took her to the treasure cave; and while she 
 was in raptures, gazing at the heaps of gold and silver, Jack 
 filled his pockets as full as they could hold, put more into 
 a little bag, and walked out, locking the door on the old 
 hag, and leaving the key in the lock. He then put on a 
 rich suit of clothes, took the goat, and the wether, and the 
 bullock, and drove them before him to the farmer's house. 
 
 Joan and her husband were at the door; and when they 
 saw the animals, they clapped their hands and laughed for 
 joy. "Do you know who owns them bastes, neighbours?" 
 "Maybe we don't! sure they're ours." "I found them 
 straying in the wood. Is that bag with ten guineas in it 
 that's hung round the goat's neck yours f } " Faith it isn't." 
 il Well, you may as well keep it for a Godsend ; I don't want 
 it. Banacht Hath: 3 "Heavens be in your road, good 
 gentleman ! " 
 
 Jack travelled on till he came to his father's house in the 
 dusk of the evening. He went in. " God save all here ! " 
 " God save you kindly, sir ! " " Could I have a night's lodg- 
 ing here ! " " Oh, sir, our place isn't fit for the likes of a gen- 
 tleman such as you." "Oh, masha, don't yous know your own 
 son 1 " Well they opened their eyes, and it was only a strife 
 to see who'd have him in their arms first. " But, Jack 
 asthore, where did you get the fine clothes 1 " Oh, you 
 may as well ask me where I got all that money 1 " said he, 
 
42 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 emptying his pockets on the table. Well, they got in a 
 great fright, but when he told them his adventures, they 
 were easier in mind, and all went to bed in great content. 
 
 " Father," says Jack, next morning, " Go over to the land- 
 lord, and tell him I wish to be married to his daughter." 
 " Faith, I'm afraid he'd only set the dogs at me. If he 
 asks me how you made your money, what 11 1 say 1 " " Tell 
 him I am a master thief, and that there is no one equal to 
 me in the three kingdoms ; that I am worth a thousand 
 pounds, and all taken from the biggest rogues unhanged. 
 Speak to him when the young lady is by." " It's a droll 
 message you're sending me on : I'm afraid it won't end 
 w r ell." The old man came back in two hours. "Well, 
 what news 1 " " Droll news enough. The lady didn't 
 seem a bit unwilling : I suppose it's not the first time you 
 spoke to her, and the squire laughed, and said for you to 
 steal the goose off o' the spit in his kitchen next Sunday, 
 and he'd see about it." " ! that won't be hard, any way." 
 
 Next Sunday, after the people came from early mass, the 
 squire and all his people were in the kitchen and the goose 
 turning before the fire. The kitchen door opened, and a 
 miserable old beggarman with a big wallet on his back put 
 in his head. " Would the mistress have anything for me 
 when dinner is over, your honour 1 " " To be sure. We 
 have no room here for you just now ; sit in the porch for a 
 while." " God bless your honour's family and yourself ! " 
 Soon some one that was sitting near the window cried out, 
 "Oh, sir, there's a big hare scampering like the divel round 
 the bawn. Will we run out and pin him 1 " " Pin a hare 
 indeed ! much chance you'd have ; sit where you are." That 
 hare made his escape into the garden, but Jack that was in 
 the beggar's clothes soon let another out of the bag. " Oh, 
 master, there he is still pegging round. He can't make his 
 escape : let us have a chase. The hail door is locked on the 
 inside and Mr. Jack can't get in." " Stay quiet, I tell you." 
 In a few minutes he shouted out again that the hare was 
 there still, but it was the third that Jack was just after 
 giving its liberty. Well, by the laws, they couldn't be kept 
 in any longer. Out pegged every mother's son of 'em, and 
 the squire after them. " Will I turn the spit, your honour, 
 
JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 43 
 
 while they're catching the hareyeen?" says the "beggar. 
 " Do, and don't let anyone in for your life." " Faith an' 
 I won't, you may depend on it." The third hare got away 
 after the others, and when they all came hack from the 
 hunt, there was neither heggar nor goose in the kitchen. 
 " Purshuin' to you, Jack," says the landlord, "you've come 
 over me this time." 
 
 Well, while they were thinking of making out another 
 dinner, a messenger came from Jack's father to heg that 
 the squire, and the mistress, and the young lady would step 
 across the fields, and take share of what God sent. There 
 was no dirty mean pride ahout the family, and they walked 
 over, and got a dinner with roast turkey, and roast beef, 
 and their own roast goose, and the squire had like to burst 
 his waistcoat laughing at the trick, and Jack's good clothes 
 and good manners did not take away any liking the young 
 lady had for him already. 
 
 While they were taking their punch at the old oak table 
 in the nice clean little parlour with the sanded floor, says 
 the squire, " You can't be sure of my daughter, Jack, unless 
 you steal away my six horses. from under the six men that 
 will be watching them to-morrow night in the stable." 
 " I'd do more than that," says Jack, " for a pleasant look 
 from the young lady ;" and the young lady's cheeks turned 
 as red as fire. 
 
 Monday night the six horses were in their stalls, and a 
 man on every horse, and a good glass of whiskey under 
 every man's waistcoat, and the door was left wide open for 
 Jack. They were merry enough for a long time, and joked 
 and sung, and were pitying the poor fellow, but the small 
 hours crept on, and the whiskey lost its power, and they 
 began to shiver and wish it was morning. A miserable old 
 colliach, with half a dozen bags round her, and a beard half 
 an inch long on her chin, came to the door. " Ah then, 
 tendher-heartecl christians," says she, " would you let me 
 in, and allow me a wisp of straw in the corner ; the life will 
 be froze out of me if you don't give me shelter." Well, 
 they didn't see any harm in that, and she made herself as 
 snug as she could, and they soon saw her pull out a big 
 black bottle, and take a sup. She coughed and smacked 
 
44 TnE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 her lips, and seemed a little more comfortable, and the men 
 couldn't take their eyes off her. " Gorsoons,' ; says she, 
 "I'd offer you a drop of this, only you might think it too 
 free-making." " Oh, hang all impedent pride," says one, 
 " we'll take it, and thankee." So she gave them the bottle, 
 and they passed it round, and the last man had the man- 
 ners to leave half a glass in the bottom for the old woman. 
 They all thanked her, and said it was the best drop ever 
 passed their tongues. " In throth, agras," said she, u it's 
 myself that's glad to show how I value your kindness in 
 giving me shelter ; I'm not without another buideal, and 
 yous may pass it round while myself finishes what the da- 
 sent man left me." 
 
 Well, what they drank out of the other bottle only gave 
 them a relish for more, and by the time the last man got to 
 the bottom, the first man was dead asleep in the saddle, for 
 the second bottle had a sleepy posset mixed with the whis- 
 key. The beggar-woman lifted each man down, and laid 
 him in the manger, or under the manger, snug and sausty, 
 drew a stocking over every horse's hoof, and led them away 
 without any noise to one of Jack's father's out-houses. The 
 first thing the squire saw next morning was Jack riding up 
 the avenue, and five horses stepping after the one he rode. 
 " Confound you, Jack ! " says he, " and confound the 
 num sculls that let you outwit them ? " He went out to 
 the stable, and didn't the poor fellows look very lewd o' 
 themselves, when they could be woke up in earnest ! 
 
 " After all," says the squire, when they were sitting at 
 breakfast, " it was no great thing to outwit such ninny- 
 hammers. I'll be riding out on the common from one to 
 three to-day, and if you can outwit me of the beast I'll be 
 riding, I'll say you deserve to be my son-in-law." " I'd do 
 more than that," says Jack, " for the honour, if there was 
 no love at all in the matter," and the young lady held up 
 her saucer before her face. 
 
 Well, the squire kept riding about and riding about till 
 he was tired, and no sign of Jack. He was thinking of 
 going home at last, when what should he see but one of his 
 servants running from the house as if he was mad. " Oh 
 masther, masther," says he, "as far as he could be heard, " fly 
 
JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 45 
 
 home if you wish to see the poor mistress alive ! I m run- 
 ning for the surgeon. She fell down two nights of stairs, 
 and her neck, or her hip, or both her arms are broke, and 
 she's speechless, and it's a mercy if you find the breath in 
 her. Fly as fast as the baste will carry you." "But had- 
 n't you better take the horse 1 it's a mile and a half to the 
 surgeon's." " Oh, anything you like, master. Oh, Vuya, 
 Vuya ! misthress alanna, that I should ever see the day ! 
 and your purty body disfigured as it is !" "Here, stop your 
 noise, and be off like wildfire ! Oh, my darling, my darling, 
 isn't this a trial !" 
 
 He tore home like a fury, and wondered to see no stir 
 outside, and when he flew into the hall, and from that to 
 the parlour, his wife and daughter that were sewing at the 
 table screeched out at the rush he made, and the wild look 
 that was on his face. " Oh, my darling ! " said he, when he 
 could speak, " how's this 1 are you hurt 1 didn't you fall 
 down the stairs 1 What happened at all ] tell me ! " " Why, 
 nothing at all happened, thank God, since you rode out : 
 where did you leave the horse 1 " Well, no one could de- 
 scribe the state he was in for about quarter of an hour, be- 
 tween joy for his wife and anger with Jack, and sharoose for 
 being tricked. He saw the beast soon coming up the ave- 
 nue, and a little gorsoon in the saddle with his feet in the 
 stirrup leathers. The servant didn't make his appearance 
 for a week, but what did he care with, Jack's ten golden 
 guineas in his pocket. 
 
 Jack didn't show his nose till next morning, and it was 
 a queer reception he met. "That was all foul play you 
 gave," says the squire. "I'll never forgive you for the 
 shock you gave me. But then I am so happy ever since, 
 that I think I'll give you only one trial more. If you will 
 take away the sheet from under my wife and myself to-night, 
 the marriage may take place to-morrow." " We'll try," says 
 Jack, " but if you keep my bride from me any longer, I'll 
 steal her away if she was minded by fiery dragons." 
 
 When the squire and his wife were in bed, and the moon 
 shining in through the window, he saw a head rising over 
 the sill to have a peep, and then bobbing down again. 
 " That's Jack," says the squire : " I'll astonish him a bit," 
 
4-6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 says the squire, pointing a gun at the lower pane. " Oh 
 Lord, my dear ! " says the wife, " sure you wouldn't shoot 
 the brave fellow ! " " Indeed, an' I wouldn't for a kingdom ; 
 there's nothing but powder in it." Up went the head, bang 
 went the gun, down dropped the body, and a great souse 
 was heard on the gravel walk. " Oh Lord," says the lady, 
 " poor Jack is killed or disabled for life." " I hope not," 
 says the squire, and down the stairs he ran. He never 
 minded to shut the door, but opened the gate and ran into 
 the garden. His wife heard his voice at the room door, be- 
 fore he could be under the window and back, as she thought. 
 " Wife, wife !" says he from the door, "the sheet, the sheet ! 
 He is not killed, I hope, but he is bleeding like a pig. I 
 must wipe it away as well as I can, and get some one to 
 carry him in with me." She pulled it off the bed and threw 
 it to him. Down he ran like lightning, and he had hardly 
 time to be in the garden, when he was back, and this time 
 he came in in his shirt as he went out. 
 
 " High hanging to you, Jack," says he, " for an arrant 
 rogue ! " " Arrant rogue 1 " says she, " Isn't the poor fel- 
 low all cut and bruised? " "I didn't much care if he was. 
 What do you think was bobbing up and down at the win- 
 dow, and sossed down so heavy on the walk *? a man's 
 clothes stuffed with straw and a couple of stones." " And 
 what did you want with the sheet just now, to wipe his 
 blood if he was only a man of straw 1 " " Sheet, woman ! 
 I wanted' no sheet." "Well \ whether you wanted it or 
 not, I threw it to you, and you standing outside o' the door." 
 " Oh, Jack, Jack, you terrible tinker !" says the squire, 
 u there's no use in striving with you. We must do with- 
 out the sheet for one night. We'll have the marriage to- 
 morrow to get ourselves out of trouble." 
 
 So married they were, and Jack turned out a real good 
 husband. And the squire and his lady were never tired of 
 praising their son-in-law, "Jack the Cunning Thief." 
 
[ 47 ] 
 
 THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. 
 
 There was once a king, but I didn't hear what country 
 he was over, and he had one very beautiful daughter. Well 
 he was getting old and sickly, and the doctors found out 
 that the finest medicine in the world for him was the apples 
 of a tree that grew in'the orchard just under his window. 
 So you may be sure he had the tree well minded, and used 
 to get the apples counted from the time they were the size 
 of small marvels. One harvest, just as they were begin- 
 ning to turn ripe, the king was awoke one night by the 
 flapping of wings outside in the orchard ; and when he look- 
 ed out, what did he see but a bird among the branches of 
 his tree. Its feathers were so bright they made a light all 
 round them, and the minute (moment) it saw the king in 
 his night- cap and night-shirt it picked off an apple, and 
 flew away. " Oh, tattheration to that thief of a gardener!' 7 
 says he, " this is a nice way he's watching my precious 
 fruit." 
 
 He didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night ; and as soon 
 as anyone was stirring in the palace, he sent for the 
 gardener, and abused him for his neglect. " Please your 
 majesty ! " says he " not another apple you shall lose. My 
 three sons are the best shots at the bow-arm in the kingdom, 
 and they and myself will watch in turn every night." 
 
 When the night came, the gardener's eldest son took his 
 post in the garden, with his bow strung, and his arrow be- 
 tween his fingers, and watched, and watched. But at the 
 dead hour the king, that was wide awake, heard the flap- 
 ping of wings, and ran to the window. There was the 
 bright bird in the tree, and the boy fast asleep, sitting with 
 his back to the wall, and his bow on his lap. " Eise, you 
 lazy thief!" says the king, " there's the bird again, tatther- 
 ation to her !" Up jumped the poor fellow ; but while he 
 was fumbling with the arrow and the string, away was the 
 bird with the nicest apple on the tree. Well, to be sure, 
 how the king fumed and fretted, and how he abused the gar- 
 dener and the boy, and what a twenty-four hours he spent 
 till midnight came again ! 
 
 He had his eye this time on the second son of the 
 
48 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 gardener ; but though he was up and lively enough when 
 the clock began to strike twelve, it wasn't done with the 
 last bang when he saw him stretched like one dead on the 
 long grass, and saw the bright bird again, and heard the 
 flap of her wings, and saw her carry away the third apple. 
 The poor fellow woke with the roar the king let at him, 
 and even was time enough to let fly an arrow after the bird. 
 lie did not hit her, you may depend ; and though the king 
 was mad enough, he saw the poor fellows were under pish- 
 rogues, and could not help it. 
 
 Well, he had some hopes out of the youngest, for he was 
 a brave, active young fellow, that had everybody's good 
 word. There he was ready, and there was the king watch- 
 ing him, and talking to him at the first stroke of twelve. 
 At the last clang, the brightness coming before the bird 
 lighted up the wall and the trees, and the rushing of the 
 wings was heard as it flew into the branches ; but at the 
 same instant the crack of the arrow on her side might be 
 heard a quarter of a mile off. Down came the arrow and 
 a large bright feather along with it, and away was the bird, 
 with a screech that was enough to break the drum of your 
 ear. She hadn't time to carry off an apple ; and bedad, 
 when the feather was thrown up into the king's room it 
 was heavier than lead, and turned out to be the finest 
 beaten gold. 
 
 Well, there was great cooramuch made about the youngest 
 boy next day, and he watched night after night for a week, 
 but not a smite of a bird or bird's feather was to be seen, 
 and then the king told him to go home and sleep. Every 
 one admired the beauty of the gold feather beyant anything, 
 but the king was fairly bewitched. He was turning it round 
 and' round, and rubbing it again' his forehead and his nose 
 the live-long day ; and at last he proclaimed that he'd give 
 his daughter and half his kingdom to whoever would bring 
 him the bird with the gold feathers, dead or alive. 
 
 The gardener's eldest son had great consate out of him- 
 self, and away he set to try for the bird. In the afternoon 
 he sat down under a tree to rest himself, and eat a bit of 
 bread and cold meat that he had in his wallet, when up 
 comes as fine a looking fox as you'd see in the burrow of 
 
THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. 49 
 
 Muntin. " Musha, sir/' says he, " would you spare a bit 
 of that meat to a poor body that's hungry } " Well," says 
 the other, " you mast have the divel's own assurance, you 
 common robber, to ask me such a question. Here's the 
 answer," and he let fly at the moddhereen rua. The arrow 
 scraped from his side up over his back, as if he was made 
 of hammered iron, and stuck in a tree a couple of perches oif. 
 " Foul play/' says the fox; "but I respect your young bro- 
 ther, and will give you a bit of advice. At nightfall you'll 
 come into a village. One side of the street you'll see a 
 large room lighted up, and filled with young men and 
 women, dancing and drinking. The other side you'll see a 
 house with no light, only from the fire in the front room, 
 and no one near it but a man, and his wife, and their child. 
 Take a fool's advice, and get lodging there." With that he 
 curled his tail over his crupper, and trotted off. 
 
 The boy found things as the fox said, but begonies he 
 chose the dancing and drinking, and there we'll leave him. 
 In a week's time, when they got tired at home waiting for 
 him, the second son said he'd try his fortune, and off he set. 
 He was just as ill-natured and foolish as his brother, and 
 the same thing happened to him. Well, when a week was 
 over, away went the youngest of all, and as sure as the 
 hearth-money, he sat under the same tree, and pulled out 
 his bread and meat, and the same fox came up and saluted 
 him. Well, the young fellow shared his dinner with tin 1 
 moddhereen, and he wasn't long beating about the bush, 
 but told the other he knew all about his business. " I'll 
 help you/' says he, " if I find you're biddable. So just at 
 nightfall you'll come into a village, .... Good-bye till 
 to-morrow." It was just as the fox said, but the boy took 
 care not to go near dancer, drinker, fiddler, or piper. He 
 got welcome in the quiet house to supper and bed, and was 
 on his journey next morning before the sun was the height 
 of the trees. 
 
 He wasn't gone a quarter of a mile when he saw the fox 
 coming out of a wood that was by the road- side. " Good 
 morrow, fox," says one ; " Good morrow, sir," says the other. 
 " Have you any notion how far you have to travel till you 
 find the golden bird T " Dickens a notion have I ; — how 
 
 4 
 
50 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 could I ?" " Well, I have. She's in the King of Spain's 
 palace, and that's a good two hundred miles off." " Oh, 
 dear ! we'll be a week going." "No we won't. Sit down 
 on my tail, and we'll soon make the road short." " Tail 
 indeed ! that 'ud be the droll saddle, my poor moddhereen" 
 " Do as I tell you, or I'll leave you to yourself." Well, 
 rather than vex him he sat down on the tail that was 
 spread out level like a wing, and away they went like 
 thought. They overtook the wind that was before them, 
 and the wind that came after didn't overtake them. In 
 the afternoon, they stopped in a wood near the King of 
 Spain's palace, and there they staid till night-fall. 
 
 "JSow," says the fox, " I'll go before you to make the 
 minds of the guards easy, and you'll have nothing to do 
 but go from one lighted hall to another lighted hall till you 
 find the golden bird in the last. If you have a head on 
 you, you'll bring himself and his cage outside the door, and 
 no one then can lay hands on him or you. If you haven't a 
 head I can't help you, nor no one else." So he went over 
 to the gates. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the boy followed, and in the first 
 hall he passed he saw a score of armed guards standing 
 upright, but all dead asleep. In the next he saw a dozen, 
 and in the next half a dozen, and in the next three, and in 
 the room beyond that there was no guard at all, nor lamp, 
 nor candle, but it was as bright as day ; for there was the 
 golden bird in a common wood and wire cage, and on the 
 table were the three apples turned into solid gold. 
 
 On the same table was the most lovely golden cage eye 
 ever beheld, and it entered the boy's head that it would be 
 a thousand pities not to put the precious bird into it, the 
 common cage was so unfit for her. Maybe he thought of 
 the money it was worth ; any how he made the exchange, 
 and he had soon good reason to be sorry for it. The in- 
 stant the shoulder of the bird's wing touched the golden 
 wires, he let such a squawk out of him as was enough to 
 break all the panes of glass in the windows, and at the 
 same minute the three men, and the half dozen, and the 
 dozen, and the score men, woke up and clattered their 
 swords and spears, and surrounded the poor boy, and jibed, 
 
THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. j I 
 
 and cursed, and swore at him, till lie didn't know whether 
 it's his foot or head he was standing on. They called the 
 king, and told him what happened, and he put on a very 
 grim face. "It's on a gibbet you ought to be this moment," 
 says he, " but I'll give you a chance of your life, and of the 
 golden bird too. I lay you under prohibitions, and restric- 
 tions, and death, and destruction, to go and bring me the 
 King of Moroco's bay filly that outruns the wind, and leaps 
 over the walls of castle-bawns. When you fetch her into 
 the bawn of this palace, you must get the golden bird, and 
 liberty to go where you please." 
 
 Out passed the boy, very down-hearted, but as he went 
 along, who should come out of a brake but the fox again ! 
 
 " Ah, my friend," says he, " I was right when I suspect- 
 ed you hadn't a head on you ; but I won't rub your hair 
 again' the grain. Get on my tail again, and when we come 
 to the king of Mor5co's palace we'll see what we can do." 
 So away they went like thought. The wind, &c, &c, &c. 
 
 Well, the nightfall came on them in a wood near the 
 palace, and says the fox, " I'll go and make things easy for 
 you at the stables, and when you are leading out the filly, 
 don't let her touch the door, nor door-posts, nor anything 
 but the ground, and that with her hoofs ; and if you haven't 
 a head on you once you are in the stable, you'll be worse 
 off than before." 
 
 So the boy delayed for a quarter of an hour, and then he 
 went into the big bawn of the palace. There were two 
 rows of armed men reaching from the gate to the stable, 
 and every man was in the depth of deep sleep, and through 
 them with the boy till he got into the stable. There was 
 the filly, as handsome a beast as ever stretched leg, and 
 there was one stable boy with a currycomb in his hand, 
 and another with a bridle, and another with a sieve of oats, 
 and another with an armfull of hay, and all as if they were 
 cut out of stone. The filly was the only live thing in 
 the place except himself. She had a common wood and 
 leather saddle on her back, but a golden saddle with the 
 nicest work on it was hung from the post, and he thought 
 it the greatest pity not to put it in place of the other. 
 Well, I believe there was some pishrogues over it for a 
 
 4* 
 
52 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 saddle ; any how lie took off the other, and put the gold 
 one in its place. 
 
 Out came a squeel from the filly's throat when she felt 
 the strange article, that might be heard from Tombrick to 
 Bunclody, and all as ready were the armed men and the 
 stable boys to run and surround the ornadhan of a boy, 
 and the king of Moroco was soon there along with the rest, 
 with a face on him as black as the sole of your foot. 
 After he stood enjoying the abuse the poor boy got from 
 everybody for some time, he says to him, " You deserve 
 high hanging for your impedence, but I'll give you a chance 
 for your life and the filly too. I lay on you all sorts of 
 prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction 
 to go bring me Princess Golden Locks, the King of Greek's 
 daughter. When you deliver her into my hand, you may 
 have the ' daughter of the wind/ and welcome. Come in 
 and take your supper and your rest, and be off at the flight 
 of night." 
 
 The poor boy was down in the mouth, you may suppose, 
 as he was walking away next morning, and very much 
 ashamed when the fox looked up in his face after coming 
 out of the wood. " What a thing it is," says he, " not to 
 have a head when a body wants it worst; and here we have 
 a fine long journey before us to the king of Greek's palace. 
 The worse luck now, the same alwaj^s. Here, get on my 
 tail, and we'll be making the road shorter." So he sat on 
 the fox's tail, and swift as thougnt they went. The wind 
 that, &c, &c, &c, and in the evening they were eating 
 their bread and cold meat in the wood near the castle. 
 
 " Now," says the fox, when they were done, " I'll go 
 before you to make things easy. Follow me in a quarter of 
 an hour. Don't let Princess Golden Locks touch the jambs 
 of the doors with her hands, or hair, or clothes, and if you're 
 asked any favour, mind how you answer. Once she's out- 
 side the door, no one can take her from you." Into the 
 palace walked the boy at the proper time, and there were 
 the score, and the dozen, and the half dozen, and the three 
 guards all standing up or leaning on their arms, and all 
 dead asleep, and in the farthest room of all was the Princess 
 Golden Locks, as lovely as Venus herelf. She was asleep 
 
THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. j3 
 
 in one chair, and her father, the King of Greek, in another. 
 He stood before her for ever so long, with the love sinking 
 deeper into his heart every minute, till at last he went 
 down on one knee, and took her darling white hand in his 
 hand, and kissed it. 
 
 When she opened her eyes, she was a little frightened, 
 but I believe not very angry, for the boy, as I call him, 
 was a fine handsome young fellow, and all the respect and 
 love that ever you could think of was in his face. She 
 asked him what he wanted, and he stammered, and blushed, 
 and began his story six times, before she understood it. 
 " And would you give me up to that ugly black king of 
 Moroco ? " says she. " I am obliged to do so," says he, 
 " by prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruc- 
 tion, but ril have his life and free you, or lose my own. 
 If I can't get you for my wife, my days on the earth will 
 be short." " Well," says she, " let me take leave of my 
 father at any rate." u Ah, I can't do that," says he, "or 
 they'd all waken, and myself would be put to death, or 
 sent to some task worse than any I got yet." But she 
 asked leave at any rate to kiss the old man ; — that wouldn't 
 waken him, and then she'd go. How could he refuse her, 
 and his heart tied up in every curl of her hair ] But, 
 bedad, the moment her lips touched her father's, he let a 
 cry, and every one of the score, the dozen .... guards 
 woke up, and clashed their arms, and were going to make 
 gibbets of the foolish boy. 
 
 But the king ordered them to hold their hands, till he'd 
 be insensed of what it was all about, and when he heard 
 the boy's story he gave him a chance for his life. "There 
 is," says he, " a great heap of clay in front of the palace, 
 that won't let the sun shine on the walls in the middle of 
 summer. Every one that ever worked at it found two 
 shovelfulls added to it for ' every one they threw away. 
 Eemove it, and I'll let my daughter go with you. If 
 you're the man I suspect you to be, I think she'll be in no 
 danger of being wife to that yellow Molott." 
 
 Early next morning was the boy tackled to his work, 
 and for every shovelfull he flung away two came back on 
 him, and at last he could hardly get out of the heap that 
 
54 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 gathered round him. Well, the poor fellow scrambled out 
 some way, and sat down on a sod, and he'd have cried only 
 for the shame of it. He began at it in ever so many places, 
 and one was still worse than the other, and in the heel of 
 the evening, when he was sitting with his head between his 
 hands, who should be standing before him but the fox ? 
 " Well, my poor fellow," says he, " you're low enough. 
 Go in: I won't say anything to add to your trouble. Take 
 your supper and your rest : to-morrow will be a new day." 
 
 " How is the work going off," says the king when they 
 were at supper. "Faith, your Majesty," says the poor boy, 
 " it's not going off, but coming on it is. I suppose you'll 
 have the trouble of digging me out at sunset to-morrow, 
 and waking me." " I hope not," says the princess with a 
 smile on her kind face, and the boy was as happy as 
 anything the rest of the evening. 
 
 He was wakened up next morning with voices shouting, 
 and bugles blowing, and drums beating, and such a hulli- 
 bulloo he never heard in his life before. He ran out to see 
 what was the matter, and there, where the heap of clay was 
 the evening before, were soldiers, and servants, and lords, 
 and ladies, dancing like mad for joy that it was gone. 
 "Ah, my poor fox!" says he to himself, "this is your 
 work." Well there was little delay about his return. The 
 King was going to send a great retinue with the princess 
 and himself, but he wouldn't let him take the trouble. "I 
 have a friend," says he, "that will bring us both to the 
 King of Moroco's palace in a day, d — fly away with him !" 
 
 There was great crying when she was parting from her 
 father. " Ah ! " says he, " what a lonesome life I'll have 
 now ! Your poor brother in the power of that wicked 
 witch, and kept away from us, and now you taken from me 
 in my old age ! " Well, while they both were walking on 
 through the wood, and he telling her how much he loved 
 her, out walked the fox from behind a brake, and in a short 
 time he and she were sitting on the brush, and holding one 
 another fast for fear of slipping off, and away they went 
 like thought. The wind, &c, &c, and in the evening he 
 and she were in the big bawn of the King of Moroco's 
 castle. 
 
THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. $$ 
 
 "Well/' says lie to the boy, "you done your duty well; 
 bring out the bay filly. I'd give the full of the bawn of 
 such fillies, if I had them, for this handsome princess. Get 
 on your steed, and here is a good purse of guineas for the 
 road." " Thank you," says he. " I suppose you'll let me 
 shake hands with the princess before I start." " Yes, in- 
 deed, and welcome." Well, he was some little time about 
 the hand-shaking, and before it was over he had her fixed 
 snug behind him; and while you could count three, he, and 
 she, and the filly were through all the guards, and a hun- 
 dred perches away. On they went, and next morning they 
 were in the wood near the King of Spain's palace, and there 
 was the fox before them. " Leave your princess here with 
 me," says he, " and go get the golden bird and the three 
 apples. If you don't bring us back the filly along with the 
 bird, I must carry you both home myself." 
 
 Well, when the King of Spain saw the boy and the filly 
 in the bawn, he made the golden bird, and the golden cage, 
 and the golden apples be brought out and handed to him, 
 and was very thankful and very glad of his prize. But the 
 boy could not part with the nice beast without petting it, 
 and rubbing it, and while no one was expecting such a 
 thing, he was up on its back, and through the guards, and 
 a hundred perches away, and he wasn't long till he came 
 where he left his princess and the fox. 
 
 They hurried away till they were safe out of the King of 
 Spain's land, and then they went on easier; and if I was to 
 tell you all the loving things they said to one another, the 
 story wouldn't be over till morning. When they were pass- 
 ing the village of the dance house, they found his two 
 brothers begging, and they brought them along. When 
 they came to where the fox appeared first, he begged the 
 young man to cut off his head and his tail. He would not 
 do it for him; he shivered at the very thought, but the 
 eldest brother was ready enough. The head and tail va- 
 nished with the blows, and the body changed into the finest 
 young man you could see, and who was he but the princess's 
 brother that was bewitched. Whatever joy they had be- 
 fore, they had twice as much now, and when they arrived 
 at the palace bonfires were set blazing, oxes roasting, and 
 
5 6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 puncheons of wine put out in the lawn. The young Prince 
 of Greek was married to the King's daughter, and the 
 prince's sister to the gardener's son. He and she went a 
 shorter way back to her father's house, with many attend- 
 ants, and the King was so glad of the golden bird and the 
 golden apples, that he sent a wagon full of gold and a wagon 
 full of silver along with them. 
 
 THE GIANT AND HIS ROYTAL SERVANTS. 
 
 There was once a very good king and queen that would 
 be as happy as the day was long only they had no children. 
 So as they were one day sitting in a garden chair by the 
 edge of the pond at the bottom of the lawn, and talking 
 how lonesome the palace was for young people, a giant 
 stepped out of the grove that was behind them, and says 
 he, " King and queen, if you'll give me your eldest son 
 when he's twenty-one years of age, I'll give you a necklace, 
 ma'am, and so that you never put it off night or day, you 
 will have four sons and three daughters in the next ten 
 years. I'll be here to-morrow at the same hour to know 
 your win." 
 
 They talked and they talked all the rest of that day, 
 and till they went to sleep, but the end was — they'd take 
 the giant's offer: — twenty -two years was a long time off, 
 and many a thing falls out between the milking of the cow 
 and the print of butter coming to the table. They agreed 
 to the giant's offer, and he went away well pleased. In less 
 than a year's time a prince was born, and the queen was 
 not tired till she had her four sons and her three daughters 
 sitting at the table with herself and her husband. They 
 were all as handsome as the sun, moon, and stars, and 
 there was no sorrow till the eldest prince was near his 
 twenty-first birthday. 
 
 The very day to the hour, they were sitting in the very 
 same seat when the giant stepped out of the grove, and de- 
 manded their eldest born. " I'll wait for him here," said 
 he : " don't keep me long/' They went up to the castle 
 
THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. $j 
 
 and a young man grandly dressed soon came, and appeared 
 before the giant. They talked a little, and the giant then 
 handed him a beautiful little whip. " If I make you a 
 present of that nice whip, what will you do with it. ' " Ah, 
 won't I whip away the cats and dogs when they go near 
 the roast and boiled in the kitchen !' u Go back and tell 
 your master and mistress that it is the heir and not the 
 kitchen-boy I want;* Another young man came down. 
 " Are you the eldest prince in this palace V " Yes." " Isn't 
 that a nice whip I * " Ah, isn't it? " " If I give it to you 
 for a present, what will you do with it 1 " "Won't I whip 
 away the hounds when they want to eat up the fox, brush 
 and all ! " " Go and tell your master and mistress that if 
 they don't send me their eldest son and heir, I'll burn 
 down their castle and theirselves and all their children 
 along with it." 
 
 The prince came at last, and when he looked in his face 
 he knew it was the man he wanted. They got into a boat, 
 and though the pond was not twenty perches broad, and 
 the boat went as swift as an arrow, they were an hour be- 
 fore they got to the other side, and there the prince found 
 a strange country round him, and the mountain that was 
 fifty miles before them in the morning was now fifty miles 
 behind them. They mounted two horses that were wait- 
 ing for them, and these went like the wind, and when they 
 were after passing seven mountains, seven glens, and seven 
 moors, they came to the giant's castle on a hill. 
 
 They went in, and they got their supper, but the giant 
 took his supper first, and made the prince and a very beau- 
 tiful young girl wait on him, before they were allowed to 
 get their own. "Now," said he, "the girl will show you 
 to the room where you are to take your rest. She is a 
 king's daughter as well as you are a king's son. A witch 
 foretold that I should be waited on by princes and prin- 
 cesses, and now it's come to pass. I'll tell you in the morn- 
 ing, your work for to-morrow." 
 
 When breakfast was over, he took the prince into the 
 bawn. "There," said he, "is a stable that wasn't cleaned 
 for seven years. I am going to look after my flocks and 
 herds ; have it so clean when I return at sunset that I may 
 
58 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OP IRELAND. 
 
 roll a golden apple in at one door, and out at another." 
 Away he went, and to work fell the prince ; but for every 
 sprong-f nil he threw out, two came in, and when the prin- 
 cess brought him his dinner, there he was standing outside 
 the door, and the stable as full of litter and dung as it could 
 hold. 
 
 A smile came on her face as she saw his sorrowful looks, 
 but she spoke cheerfully. " Come, prince, take the dinner 
 I have cooked for you, and if you don't object I'll join you: 
 we are equal in birth and we are equal in misfortune." He 
 had little appetite, but he was glad of anything that brought 
 himself and the beautiful princess together. So while they 
 were eating, she told him that she was secured in the same 
 manner as himself; that he was the second, and that in 
 some years he'd have scores of servants, all sons and daugh- 
 ters of kings, but that whoever could perform three tasks 
 he'd get would have a chance of escape. " I had a god- 
 mother," said she, " who was an enchantress, and I have 
 power that the giant knows nothing about. Look here." 
 She took the sprong, flung out three fulls of it, and all 
 that was in the stable followed it into the great lough at 
 the bottom of the bawn. 
 
 Glad enough was the prince, and if he did'nt thank the 
 princess, and make all the loving speeches in the world to 
 her, it's no matter. They didn't feel the time passing till 
 the giant came home, and very bitter he looked when he 
 found the stable cleared. He said not a word all the time 
 they were waiting on him at supper, but when they were 
 ready for bed, he told the prince he had another small job 
 for him in the morning. 
 
 Sure enough, the task he put on him the second day was 
 to catch a filly in the paddock. " There is a golden bridle 
 for you," said he, " and if you succeed, that bridle is your 
 own." Away went the giant to look after his flocks and 
 herds, and a sore forenoon the poor prince had, chasing the 
 filly round the paddock, and striving to tempt her with 
 a boorawn of oats. But dinner-time came, and there was 
 his dear princess coming over the stile with his dinner. 
 She knew he'd have no appetite in the state he was in, 
 and so the first thing she done after laying down the cloth 
 
THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. 59 
 
 on the grass, was to take an old jaggedy bridle with a rusty 
 bit out of her pocket, and shake it over her head. As soon 
 as the filly seen it, she run to them capering, and shaking 
 her ears, and stood like a lamb till it was fitted on her. 
 Well, such a dinner, and such loving talk as they had with 
 each other till near sunset, and then she went in, the way 
 the giant wouldn't see them together. As cross as he 
 looked before, he looked ten times crosser now, but he kej t 
 in his anger. 
 
 Next morning after breakfast, said he to the prince, 
 " There is a tree at the corner of the paddock, and a raven's 
 nest in the branches of it. There are &ve eggs in the nest, 
 and I want them for my supper to-night. If you break or 
 lose e'er a one of them you needn't expect much good treat- 
 ment from me. If you bring them safe and sound, I'll 
 marry you to the princess there after supper, and you will 
 live as happy as the day is long." 
 
 Well, I think that women aren't so selfish somehow as 
 men. The prince looked glad enough, but there wasn't a 
 morsel of gladness on the princess's face, and so everything 
 went on as usual next morning. The giant went to look 
 after his goats, and sheep, and cattle, the princess readied 
 up the house, and the prince went down to the tree. A 
 wearisome tree it was on him. The body of it was as 
 smooth as that table, and there wasn't a twig sticking out 
 of it for more than a score of feet from the top of the ditch 
 where it grew. He'd grip it with arms and legs till he'd 
 be up about six feet, and then he'd come down with a flop, 
 and after a little rest he'd spit in his palms, and try it 
 again, and down he'd come with a flop once more. 
 
 He was worse off to-day when the darling princess came 
 with his dinner than he was the other days, and as much 
 as she pitied him, she couldn't help laughing at the state 
 the legs and arms of his clothes were in. He didn't 
 much enjoy her merriment, but she soon gave him relief. 
 She took from her pocket two magic rods and gave them 
 to him, and told him how to use them, and he was soon 
 climbing the tree like a may-boy. The rods went into the 
 wood like a nail into a cabbage stalk, and then when his 
 left foot was on one he pulled the other out, and stuck it 
 
60 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 in for his right foot, and so on till he got among the branches. 
 When he came to the nest, he put one egg in his mouth, 
 one in each pocket, and two in the breasts of his coat, and 
 was soon down and eating the happiest dinner he ever 
 tasted. 
 
 And says he when the cloth was removed, " What matter, 
 my darling, if the giant keeps us here with him itself when 
 he marries us 1 Love will make our lives as happy as they 
 can be. Why, I don't wish for anything in the world only 
 to be in your company, and be looking at you, and hearing 
 you speak." " Don't once think, prince," said she, " that 
 Til be satisfied with such marriage as the giant can put on 
 us, nor to see you and myself and whatever children 
 God would send all his slaves. Don't say a single word 
 when he goes about marrying us. You may be sure I 
 won't open my lips, and when he sends us into the same 
 room, you'll know my intentions better." 
 
 It was all as she said, and when the prince and princess 
 were sent by the giant into the room, she pointed out three 
 little images of women, one on the chimney-piece, one on 
 the table, and one on the window-seat. She pricked her 
 finger, and let a drop of blood fall on the mouth of every 
 little image, and then said, " By virtue of my magic power, 
 I charge you to answer the giant's three questions." She 
 then went out through a door that couldn't be noticed from 
 the rest of the wall where it was set. He followed her, and 
 they went down to the stable where the filly was eating its 
 hay. He bridled and saddled the beast, got into his seat, 
 set her behind him, cleared the bawn gate, and to the road 
 with them in the direction of his father's palace. 
 
 The giant went to bed, and about nine o'clock, he cried 
 out, " Prince, are you asleep 1 " " Not yet," was the answer 
 that came from the mantle-piece. At midnight he cried 
 out, " Prince, are you asleep? " " Going asleep," says the 
 image on the table. At one o'clock he cried again, " Prince, 
 are you asleep 1 " " Dead asleep," says the image on the 
 window-stool. " That's well," says the giant, and himself 
 went off asleep at once. 
 
 Next morning he knocked at the door, and knocked, and 
 knocked again, and then he burst it in. There was no 
 
THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. 6 1 
 
 one there but the three images, and these he broke in a 
 thousand pieces. He saw the hidden door open, and 
 guessed what happened, and to the road with him. The 
 wind before him he overtook, and the wind after him 
 didn't overtake him. About noon the princess cried out, 
 " I feel the hot breath of the giant at my back ; put your 
 hand in the filly's right ear, take out what you'll find, and 
 fling it behind you." He found a twig of wild ash, turned 
 round, and flung it at the giant, who was sweeping down 
 on them like a tempest. Up sprung a tangled wood be- 
 tween them, and the roar the giant let out of him might be 
 heard ten miles off. There they left him, tearing himself 
 through brambles and spikes, and on they flew. 
 
 About three hours after, the princess cried out again, 
 " I feel the giant's breath scorching my back : put your 
 hand into the filly's left ear, and fling what you'll find in it 
 at him." He did so, and found a bubble of water. Look- 
 ing back, there was the giant like a devouring fire racing in 
 on them, but when he threw the bubble at him, a great 
 broad lake appeared where the grass and bushes and stones 
 were a few minutes before, and as fast as the filly went, the 
 water widened after her. In he dashed, and the heat of 
 his body sent the water hissing and sputtering up into the 
 clouds. But he went through it like an eel or a salmon, 
 and just as the sun was setting, the princess cried out once 
 more, "The giant's breath is scorching my back. Alight, 
 and throw this apple as straight as you can at his forehead. 
 Be steady. If you miss we are lost." Down he got, took 
 the apple, and just as the giant was within ten perches of 
 him, he flung it with force and courage. The noise it made 
 on his forehead was like a cannon ball striking a rock. 
 The giant fell like a huge tree and never drew breath again. 
 
 They were now at the edge of the wood where the prince's 
 father's palace was built ; but when they got to the gate- 
 house, the princess would not go further. Said she to him, 
 " There is another trial before us. Go you up to the castle, 
 and tell them what you like, and come back for me. But 
 if you kiss anyone, or let anyone kiss you, it is likely we 
 shall never be man and wife." So she staid walking about, 
 and he went up the walk to the hall-door. 
 
62 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 I needn't tell you what joy there was before him, and 
 how all his family gathered round him, and hugged him, 
 but thought it mighty queer that he kept his hand on his 
 mouth, and wouldn't let even his mother kiss him. Well, 
 things were getting a little quiet, and he was just beginning 
 to tell about his princess and where she was, when a for- 
 ward young damsel, that was striving to make him fond of 
 her before the giant took him away, burst through the 
 crowd, and cried, " Oh, is this my betrothed prince that's 
 come back to us V and bedad, before he could defend him- 
 self, she gave him a smack that sounded like the slap of a 
 wet shoe on a flag. The same instant he lost all memory 
 of what happened since the giant took him away, and stood 
 like a fool in the middle of the crowd. Well, a great feast 
 was made, and the forward lady sat by his side, and there 
 was nothing but joy, and in a day or two he was to be 
 married. 
 
 After the princess walked about for an hour, she grew 
 very melancholy and said to herself, " Ah, I guessed what 
 would happen, but I'll recover him yet." She asked the 
 gate-keeper's wife would she give her house room for a week 
 or two, and instead of promising to pay her well, she laid 
 down five guineas on the table. They made her welcome, 
 and there she staid, knitting and sewing at the window, and 
 the young gentlemen of the court used often pass by to have 
 a look at her, and the ladies undervalued her beauty, and 
 still they were speaking of her continually at the palace. 
 The prince found himself very much disturbed every time 
 he had a sight of her. 
 
 At last the wedding-day came, and they were all after 
 dinner, and about to walk into the chapel to have the mar- 
 riage celebrated, when the princess came into the hall very 
 nicely dressed, and asked the king if she might make some 
 entertainment for the company. He gave her leave, and 
 she took a nice little cock and hen out of a bag and set them 
 on the table, and threw some oats before them, and the hen 
 began to pick. The cock drove her away, and she cried 
 out, " Ah, prince, is that my reward for cleaning out the 
 stable for you ? " The bridegroom did not understand the 
 meaning, and she threw some more oats. The cock drove 
 
THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. 6$ 
 
 away the lien again, and again she reminded him of catch- 
 ing the filly and enabling him to climb the tree. At last, 
 when he drove her away the third time, she cried, " Oh 
 you ungrateful prince, is this the way you reward me for 
 shedding my blood for you, and saving your life ? " The 
 princess at that moment stretched her hand towards the 
 prince, and when he saw the mark of the cut, he gave a 
 great shout, caught her in his arms, and cried, ' fc You are 
 my lost bride indeed, I'll have no other." His memory 
 was come back to him, and he explained to the company 
 all that happened to him in the giant's house and after, 
 and all the princess did for him. Such hugging and kiss- 
 ing as she got from the king and queen and their children 
 you never heard of, and all the company soon went into the 
 chapel, and the wedding was celebrated. 
 
 And indeed the forward bride was so clever with a fool- 
 ish young lord that she forsook when the prince returned, 
 that he asked leave of the king and queen and the bishop 
 to have a second wedding the same day. il The more the 
 merrier," said they, and the king was glad, as she couldn't 
 go about making a blowing- horn of her disappointment. 
 The princess never again reminded her husband what she 
 ventured for him, and the forward lady never let a day pass 
 without insensiug her husband how lucky he was to catch 
 herself. 
 
 THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS. 
 
 There was once a poor widow woman, who had a daughter 
 that was as handsome as the day, and as lazy as a pig, 
 saving your presence. The poor mother was the most in- 
 dustrious person in the townland, and was a particularly 
 good hand at the spinning-wheel. It was the wish of her 
 heart that her daughter should be as handy as herself; but 
 she'd get up late, eat her breakfast before she'd finish her 
 prayers, and then go about dawdling, and anything she 
 handled seemed to be burning her fingers. She drawled 
 her words as if it was a great trouble to her to speak, or 
 
64 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF lit ELAND. 
 
 as if her tongue was as lazy as her body. Many a heart- 
 scald her poor mother got with her, and still she was only 
 improving like dead fowl in August. 
 
 Well, one morning that things were as bad as they could 
 be, and the poor woman was giving tongue at the rate of a 
 mill-clapper, who should be riding by but the king's son. 
 "Oh dear, oh dear, good woman !" said he, " you must have 
 a very bad child to make you scold so terribly. Sure it 
 can't be this handsome girl that vexed you !" " Oh, please 
 your Majesty, not at all," says the old dissembler. " I was 
 only checking her for working herself too much. Would 
 your Majesty believe it ? She spins three pounds of flax 
 in a day, weaves it into linen the next, and makes it all 
 into shirts the day after.' ; " My gracious," says the prince, 
 "she's the very lady that will just fill my mother's eye, 
 and herself 's the greatest spinner in the kingdom. Will 
 you put on your daughter's bonnet and cloak if you please, 
 ma'am, and set her behind me*? Why, my mother will be 
 so delighted with her, that perhaps she'll make her her 
 daughter-in-law in a week, that is, if the young woman her- 
 self is agreeable." 
 
 Well, between the confusion, and the joy, and the fear of 
 being found out, the women didn't know what to do ; and 
 before they could make up their minds, young Anty (Anas- 
 tasia) was set behind the prince, and away he and his at- 
 tendants went, and a good heavy purse was left behind with 
 the mother. She pullillued a long time after all was gone, 
 in dread of something bad happening to the poor girl. 
 
 The prince couldn't judge of the girl's breeding or wit 
 from the few answers he pulled out of her. The queen was 
 struck in a heap when she saw a young country girl sitting 
 behind her son, but when she saw her handsome face, and 
 heard all she could do, she didn't think she could make too 
 much of her. The prince took an opportunity of whisper- 
 ing her that if she didn't object to be his wife she must 
 strive to please his mother. Well, the evening went by, 
 and the prince and Anty were getting fonder and fonder of 
 one another, but the thought of the spinning used to send 
 the cold to her heart every moment. When bed-time came, 
 the old queen went along with her to a beautiful bed-room, 
 
THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS. 6$ 
 
 and when she was bidding her good night, she pointed to 
 a heap of fine flax, and said, " You may begin as soon as 
 you like to-morrow morning, and I'll expect to see these 
 three pounds in nice thread the morning after." Little did 
 the poor girl sleep that night. She kept crying and lament- 
 ing that she didn't mind her mother's advice better. When 
 she was left alone next morning, she began with a heavy 
 heart ; and though she had a nice mahogany wheel and the 
 finest flax you ever saw, the thread was breaking every 
 moment. One while it was as fine as a cobweb, and the 
 next as coarse as a little boy's whipcord. At last she 
 pushed her chair back, let her hands fall in her lap, and 
 burst out a crying. 
 
 A small old woman with surprising big feet appeared 
 before her at the same moment, and said, " What ails you, 
 you handsome colleen V* u An' haven't I all that flax to 
 spin before to-morrow morning, and I'll never be able to 
 have even five yards of fine thread of it put together." " An' 
 would you think bad to ask poor Colliagh Cushmor (Old- 
 woman Big-foot) to your wedding with the young prince ] 
 If you promise me that, all your three pounds will be made 
 into the finest of thread while you're taking your sleep to- 
 night." " Indeed you must be there and welcome, and I'll 
 honour you all the days of your life." " Very well -, stay 
 in your room till tea-time, and tell the queen she may come 
 in for her thread as early as she likes to-morrow morning." 
 It was all as she said; and the thread was finer and evener 
 than the gut you see with fly-fishers. u My brave girl you 
 were !" says the queen. I'll get my own mahogany loom 
 brought into you, but you needn't do anything more to-day. 
 Work and rest, work and rest, is my motto. To-morrow 
 you'll weave all this thread, and who knows what may 
 happen V 
 
 The poor girl was more frightened this time than the last, 
 and she was so afraid to lose the prince. She didn't even 
 know how to put the warp in the gears, nor how to use the 
 shuttle, and she was sitting in the greatest grief, when a 
 little woman who w r as mighty well-shouldered about the 
 hips all at once appeared to her, told her her name was 
 Colliach Cromanmor, and made the same bargain with her 
 
66 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 as Colliach Cushmor. Great was the queen's pleasure when 
 she found early in the morning a web as fine and white as 
 the finest paper you ever saw. " The darling you were !" 
 says she. " Take your ease with the ladies and gentlemen 
 to-day, and if you have all this made into nice shirts to- 
 morrow you may present one of them to my son, and be 
 married to him out of hand." 
 
 Oh, wouldn't you pity poor Anty the next day, she was 
 now so near the prince, and, maybe, would be soon so far from 
 him. But she waited as patiently as she could with scis- 
 sors, needle, and thread in hand, till a minute after noon. 
 Then she was rejoiced to see the third old woman appear. 
 She had a big red nose, and informed Anty that people 
 called her Shron Mor Rua on that account. She was up 
 to her as good as the others, for a dozen fine shirts were 
 lying on the table when the queen paid her an early visit. 
 
 Now there was nothing talked of but the wedding, and 
 I needn't tell you it was grand. The poor mother was 
 there along with the rest, and at the dinner the old queen 
 could talk of nothing but the lovely shirts, and how happy 
 herself and the bride would be after the honeymoon, spin- 
 ning, and weaving, and sewing shirts and shifts without 
 end. The bridegroom didn't like the discourse, and the 
 bride liked it less, and he was going to say something, when 
 the footman came up to the head of the table, and said to 
 the bride, "Your ladyship's aunt, Colliach Cushmor, bade 
 me ask might she come in." The bride blushed and wished 
 she was seven miles under the floor, but well became the 
 prince, — " Tell Mrs. Cushmor," said he, " that any relation 
 of my bride's will be always heartily welcome wherever she 
 and I are." In came the woman with the big foot, and 
 got a seat near the prince. The old queen didn't like it 
 much, and after a few words she asked rather spitefully, 
 "Dear ma'am, what's the reason your foot is so big?" 
 " Musha, faith, your majesty, I was standing almost all my 
 life at the spinning-wheel, and that's the reason." " I de- 
 clare to you, my darling," said the prince, " I'll never allow 
 you to spend one hour at the same spinning-wheel." The 
 same footman said again, " Your ladyship's aunt, Colliach 
 Cromanmor, wishes to come in, if the genteels and yourself 
 
THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS. 67 
 
 have no objection." Very sharoose (displeased) was Prin- 
 cess Anty, but the prince sent her welcome, and she took 
 her seat, and drank healths apiece to the company. " May 
 I ask, ma'am f ' says the old queen, " why you're so wide 
 half way between the head and the feet V 9 " That, your 
 majesty, is owing to sitting all my life at the loom." "By 
 my sceptre," says the prince, " my wife shall never sit there 
 an hour." The footman again came up. " Your ladyship's 
 aunt, Colliach Shron Mor Eua, is asking leave to come into 
 the banquet." More blushing on the bride's face, but the 
 bridegroom spoke out cordially, "Tell Mrs. Shron Mor Eua 
 she's doing us an honour." In came the old woman, and 
 great respect she got near the top of the table, but the peo- 
 ple down low put up their tumblers and glasses to their 
 noses to hide the grins. " Ma'am," says the old queen, 
 " will you tell us, if you please, why your nose is so big 
 and red V " Throth, your majesty, my head was bent 
 down over the stitching all my life, and all the blood in 
 my body ran into my nose." " My darling," said the prince 
 to Anty, " if ever I see a needle in your hand, I'll run a 
 hundred miles from you." 
 
 " And in troth, girls and boys, though it's a diverting 
 story, I don't think the moral is good ; and if any of you 
 thuckeens go about imitating Anty in her laziness, you'll 
 find it won't thrive with you as it did with her. She was 
 beautiful beyond compare, which none of you are, and she 
 had three powerful fairies to help her besides. There's no 
 fairies now, and no prince or lord to ride by, and catch you 
 idling or working ; and maybe, after all, the prince and 
 herself were not so very happy when the cares of the world 
 or old age came on them." 
 
 Thus was the tale ended by poor old Shebale (Sybilla) 
 Father Murphy's housekeeper, in Coolbawn, Barony of 
 Bantry, about half a century since. 
 
 THE GILLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 
 
 There was once a boy, and his name was Gilla na Gruaga 
 Donna (the fellow with the brown hair), and he had no 
 
68 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 work to do at home, and little to eat; so he said he'd go 
 look for service. His mother gave him his cake and a good 
 piece of cold bacon in his little bag, and he went on with a 
 light heart, singing like a lark. He sat down in the after- 
 noon by the side of a ditch, to eat a bit of his bread and 
 his meat, and if he did so sure came up an old beggarwoman 
 and asked for some charity. " Faith/' said he, " I haven't 
 a halfpenny — brass, gold, or silver about me, but if you 
 don't object to a bit of bread and cold meat, here's a share 
 of what's going." She took what he offered, and prayed all 
 sorts of good prayers for him. At nightfall my poor fellow 
 didn't see a house in sight, and he put up with a bunch of 
 withered grass in a dry ditch. 
 
 While he was asleep, he thought a beautiful woman came 
 and stood over him, and said, " Gilla na Gruaga Donna, 
 because you shared the little you had with me, here's a 
 purse with one guinea in it, and every time you take one 
 out, another will come in its place." When he awoke in 
 the morning, and looked about him, he found the same 
 sort of purse he saw in his dream lying by his side, and, 
 better than that, a guinea in it. " This is luck," said 
 he, but he didn't believe that it would be renewed for all 
 that. 
 
 However, he came to a town and gave his guinea at the 
 eating house to be changed, and when he was putting his 
 change back, bedad he found another guinea there to keep 
 it company. " This is just what the vision said," says 
 Gilla to himself, and he turned back, and made his family 
 comfortable, and got such a taste for travelling that he set 
 out again. He came to Dublin, and bought fine clothes, 
 and a watch to put in his fob, and a coach-and-six, and 
 drove along to see foreign countries. 
 
 As he was rattling along by a king's palace, he happened 
 to look up, and there, at a window, was the finest young 
 princess he ever beheld. So he bade his coachman drive 
 to the gate-house, and sent up his footman to ask leave of 
 the king to see his lawn and his demesne. The king asked 
 the man about his master, but he could only tell he be- 
 lieved he was a great lord going about for his pleasure. He 
 had no end of money, and didn't seem to know what to do 
 
THE GTLLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 69 
 
 with it. So the king sent down word to the gentleman to 
 go about in his lawn and his demense as much as he liked ; 
 and while he was driving, who should meet him but the 
 king himself and his daughter, and she in her side- saddle 
 on the back of a dawney little pony. " Well, they weren't 
 long getting acquainted. Gilla got out of his coach and 
 walked by the princess's pony ; and nothing would do the 
 king but to invite the stranger to come and spend a week 
 or so at the palace. 
 
 It wasn't long till Gilla and the princess were as fond 
 of one another as if they were acquainted a hundred 
 years. The king often asked Gilla what rank of life he was 
 born in, but he didn't like to say he was only a poor cot- 
 tierman's son. One evening when the cunning king found 
 Gilla very comfortable — and no wonder he was comfortable ! 
 the princess told him that very day that she'd marry him 
 if her father agreed — made him tipsy, and got out of him 
 that he was only a poor man's son, and that it was a magic * 
 purse, that was never without a guinea in it, that put it in 
 his power to travel in state. " Ah, show me this wonder- 
 ful purse !" said the king; and Gilla was fool enough to do 
 so. The king held it in his hand for a long time, and the 
 next evening they were very merry again. " I am never 
 tired looking at your nice purse,' ; said he ; and, indeed, so 
 it appeared, for he kept turning it and re-turning it in his 
 hands for ever so long ; and once, when Gilla' s eyes were 
 another way, he changed it for one he got made that very 
 day, so like it that scarcely anyone could see the smallest 
 differ. 
 
 Next day they were all driving out, and Gilla gave the 
 guinea and change that was left by the cunning king in his 
 purse, away to some poor people. But when he put in his 
 hand again to pay turnpike, or something or other, dickens 
 a guinea or a half-penny was there. Well, he turned all 
 manner of colours, looked at the purse, and was sure it was 
 the same one, and didn't know what in the world to think. 
 When he had an opportunity he told the princesss what 
 happened, and said he'd be obliged to leave the palace. 
 " Oh, what matter ! " saK she. " Sure, if you are of good 
 blood my father won't mind whether you are poor or rich." 
 
70 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 So she went to her father, and told him what happened, hut 
 she was sorry enough for what she done. The king said it 
 wasn't a nice thing to he on such free terms with a stranger, 
 and hade her go to her own rooms till she heard from him. 
 When Gilla inquired for the princess next morning, they 
 told him she was on a visit to an aunt that was dying fifty 
 miles away; and when he asked for the king, they told 
 him he was husy at his accounts. " Oh, ho !" said Gilla to 
 himself, " my welcome here is worn out." So he left his 
 best respects to the king and the princess, and he was 
 obliged to borrow money from his coachman to give some- 
 thing to the servants. He drove to Dublin, sold his coach 
 and horses, and paid his servants, and then hadn't one shil- 
 ling to rub again another in his pocket. He then exchanged 
 his clothes for common things and some little money to boot, 
 and set out on foot towards home. He was eating his piece 
 of bread and his bit of cold bacon next day, when who 
 should come up to him but the very same beggarwoman. 
 Well, they bade one another the time of day, and he shared 
 his meal with her. The same night he had the same vision, 
 but the lady checked him for showing his magic purse to 
 any one, and told him she'd try him once more with another 
 gift. She laid a cloak on the bed, and said that while he 
 kept it on he could be any where he wished. When his 
 eyes opened next morning he saw the cloak, sure enough, 
 and then he began to recollect what a long time the king 
 was fiddling with his purse. " As sure as fate," said he, 
 " he has it : what a deceitful old rogue ! I'll soon see whe- 
 ther he's guilty or not." He put on the cloak, and wished 
 himself in the king's bed-room. And there he was while 
 you'd wink your eye, and there was the king with a miserly 
 face on him, reckoning piles of guineas, an old night- cap on 
 his head, and a week's growth of beard about his mouth. 
 The purse was on the table, and his trembling fingers pull- 
 ing out guinea after guinea. " Ah, you wicked old man," 
 says Gilla, " is this the way you treated me 1 " He darted 
 on the purse, but the king's fingers were like a vice, and he 
 roared out, "Thieves, thieves! murder, robbery!" In run 
 three or four servants, and on Gilla they pounced. He had 
 nothing for it but to run to the window, throw it up, and 
 
THE GILLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 7 I 
 
 dart out. Ovoch I his cloak caught in the sash, and he was 
 glad to light on the ground with sound hones. To the heels 
 with him, and as it was early, and few stirring, he got away. 
 
 So he was on the shuchraan [helpless condition] again, 
 and set out for home with a few shillings he had still left. 
 To make a long story short, he met the beggarwoman again, 
 had a vision again, and this time he got a bugle-horn that 
 would make all the soldiers that ever heard it, follow him 
 and fight for him. 
 
 So he turned back, and never stopped till he came to 
 where the king was standing at his window reviewing his 
 troops. As soon as Gilla came up, he blew his bugle, and 
 all the soldiers shouted out, and gathered round him, and 
 asked him what they'd do for him. 
 
 " I'll soon show you that," said he. So he stepped over 
 to where the king was standing very much surprised, and 
 said ; " No one could treat another worse than you did 
 me ; but if you give me the princess in marriage, and allow 
 me back my purse and my cloak, 111 make peace and alli- 
 ance with you." "I must first consult my ministers," said 
 the king, " but you'll have my answer before nine o'clock 
 to-morrow." So Gilla camped his men in the lawn, and 
 he had a nice tent to himself that night. 
 
 At dawn he was awoke by some one fumbling about in 
 the tent, and what did he see but the treacherous king with 
 his own magic cloak upon him, taking down the bugle-horn 
 where he negligently left it the evening before, instead of 
 keeping it about his own neck. "Oh, } r ou old robber ! " 
 said he, springing out at him, but the horn was in his hands, 
 the cloak on his back, and himself away like a sighe gaoithe 
 [fairy blast]. Gilla knew he had no time to lose. He 
 popped on his breeches and coat, and was soon making his 
 ground good. It was time, for he was hardly clear of the 
 sleeping soldiers when the bugle was heard sounding at the 
 king's window, and the soldiers all dressing themselves in 
 the greatest hurry to run and hear his commands. 
 
 He was worse off now than ever. He sat down in a dry 
 ditch to eat his bread and bacon in the afternoon, but his 
 beggar woman never came near him, and at night he had 
 no shelter but a couple of trees. He made his bed on dry 
 
/ 2 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 grass under one of them, and he had a vision of the same 
 beautiful lady ; but this time she had displeasure on her 
 face. He thought she was going to speak once or twice, 
 but she stopped herself just as her lips were opening. 
 When he woke, it was a fine sunny morning, and he found 
 himself hungry. Over his head were the loveliest coloured 
 apples, and in the other tree some dull- coloured pears. Up 
 he stretched his hand, and plucked an apple, and ate it. 
 It was very sweet, but before he could get another into his 
 mouth he felt something queer about his nose. It was 
 tickling him, and beginning to feel very heavy, and before 
 you could count three, the end of it was down on the ground, 
 and ploughing away through the grass. " Oh, Gracious ! 7; 
 says he, "what's this for ] " But while he spoke, he felt it 
 pulling his head down, so that he was obliged to squat as 
 low as he could to ease his face of the weight. The end of 
 his nose was now at the very end of the field. 
 
 I cant't tell, nor could you feel, the state he was in, for, 
 please God, nothing of the kind will ever happen to one of 
 ourselves • but when he was looking at it running over the 
 ditch of the field, a pear dropped at his feet out of the next 
 tree. "Who knows," said he, u but this is a God-send 1 " 
 So he got a bit of it into his mouth as well as his nose 
 would let him, and the first swallow he made, off went the 
 new nose, and the near end kept creeping and curling away, 
 ding-dong, after the far end. 
 
 " Oh, thanks be to Goodness," said he, " and thank you 
 heartily, my good fairy ! I think my wicked old father-in- 
 law (that is to be) won't escape me this time." 
 
 He had some trifle of money left, and with this he bought 
 an old woman's cloak and bonnet, and a little basket, and 
 plucked off some apples and pears, and away with him to 
 the town outside the palace. 
 
 That day after dinner, the butler handed the king three 
 lovely apples, that he said the fruit-seller in the town 
 brought up an hour before. The king could hardly per- 
 suade himself to taste any of them, they looked so nice. 
 At last he put a piece of one in his mouth, but it was hardly 
 in his stomach when his nose was down on the carpet, over 
 to the wall, up on the window stool, out over the frame, 
 
THE GILLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 73 
 
 down the wall, and into the garden. Oh, such a fright ! 
 such cries, and such screeches as came out of the mouths 
 of every one in the room ; and still the nose went on through 
 the garden and out on the lawn. The king could not stir 
 out of his seat on the carpet, "but, as well as he could, he 
 bade a dozen of doctors be sent for. They came, but they 
 could do nothing, and messengers were coming and going 
 every minute to see and bring back word how far the end 
 was getting. It wasn't growing so fast since it got beyond 
 the lawn, but still it was getting on, and the doctors order- 
 ed sentries to be stationed all along for fear of a horse tread- 
 ing on it, or a cart wheel running over it. 
 
 No one went asleep in the palace that night but the 
 scullery maid and nine of the doctors. The king thought 
 morning would never come, and when he inquired at last 
 where the end of his nose was, he was told it was near the 
 river that lay between his dominions and the next king's, 
 but only going an inch in a minute. 
 
 About sunrise, some one came in to tell that a poor-look- 
 ing man was asking leave to come in to try to cure the 
 king. So he was let in, but told that his head would go off 
 if he done any harm. " Oh, if his Majesty is in a good 
 state of mind, I'll cure him in spite of the divel himself." 
 He gave him a small bit of a pear which he took out of a 
 basket, and it was no sooner down than the nose grew an 
 inch less in the round, the king was able to raise his head 
 a little, and the far off sentries shouted that the nose was 
 gone back half a mile. 
 
 " Now, my liege," says the man, " if your conscience is 
 good, I will bring it within its own bounds the next offer. 
 Have you any restitution to make to anybody ¥' "K-n-n- 
 no ! " says he. Then he gave him a bit of fruit, and the 
 king let a roar. His nose was now thicker than it ever 
 was, and the sentries cried to those next them, and these 
 to the others, and those to the sentries in the garden, that 
 the enlarged end was now just at the very bank of the 
 river. 
 
 "No use in blindfolding the divel in the dark," says the 
 man. " You'll be lost horse and foot if you don't confess 
 and restore the goods." " Well, I own that I took the 
 
74 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 bugle of the Gilla na Gruaga Donna from him. Bring that 
 horn from my bed's head, some of you, and give it to the 
 doctor/' It was done, another bit of fruit given, and a great 
 shout was heard, " A mile off o' the nose." " Your Majesty 
 has not confessed all. Your nose might as well be seven 
 miles longer for any comfort or rest it will give you." "Well, 
 I have the magic cloak of the same man." The cloak was 
 brought and the man buttoned it round his neck ; another 
 bit, and the end of the nose was in the middle of the lawn. 
 " Which will your Majesty make full restitution or stay 
 as you are V " I don't care : I'll keep the purse if the end 
 of my nose was at Halifax." But away began the nose to 
 plough again, and more and more the tickling feeling went 
 on. " Here," says he at last, " is the only thing left," and 
 he pulled the purse out|of his pocket. " Sarra do him good 
 with it ! " He threw it to the man, and the remainder of 
 the pear was given him. Down dropped the additional 
 handle from the right nose, and went curling and crackling 
 out of the room, out of the garden, and out of the lawn. 
 " Seize on that rascal! " said the king; but Gilla, for it was 
 he, blew a blast on bis bugle, and every one in the room 
 was rushing to tear the daylights out of the king, their 
 master. He held out against the match as long as he could, 
 but the people were all going to dethrone him. So he con- 
 sented, and if the youth of the brown hair and his princess 
 were not a good and happy couple, I wonder where are such 
 to be found. 
 
 ■»♦» < - 
 
 SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTER. 
 
 A poor woman had three sons. The eldest and second 
 eldest were cunning clever fellows, but they called the 
 youngest Shan an Omadhan, because they thought he was 
 no better than a simpleton. The eldest got tired of staying 
 at home, and said he'd go look for service. He staid away 
 a whole year, and then came back one day, dragging one 
 foot after the other, and a poor wizened face on him, and 
 he as cross as two sticks. When he was rested and got 
 
SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTER. 75 
 
 something to eat, he told them how he got service with the 
 Bodach Liath of Tuaim an Drochaigh [Gray Churl of the 
 Townlarid of Mischance], and that the agreement was, who- 
 ever would first say he was sorry for his bargain, should get 
 an inch wide of the skin of his back, from shoulder to hips, 
 taken off. If it was the master, he should also pay double 
 wages ; if it was the servant, he should get no wages at all. 
 " But the thief," says he, " gave me so little to eat, and kept 
 me so hard at work, that flesh and blood couldn't stand it; 
 and when he asked me once, when I was in a passion, if I 
 was sorry for my bargain, I was mad enough to say I was, 
 and here I am disabled for life." 
 
 Vexed enough were the poor mother and brothers ; and 
 the second eldest said on the spot he'd go and take service 
 with the Gray Churl, and punish him by all the annoyance 
 he'd give him till he'd make him say he was sorry for his 
 agreement. " Oh, won't I be glad to see the skin coming 
 off the old villain's back ! " said he. All they could say had 
 no effect : he started off for the Townland of Mischance, 
 and in a twelvemonth he was back just as miserable and 
 helpless as his brother. 
 
 All the poor mother could say didn't prevent Shan an 
 Omadhan from starting to see if he was able to regulate the 
 Bodach Liath. He agreed with him for a year for twenty 
 pounds, and the terms were the same. 
 
 " Now, Shan," said the Bodach Liath, " if you refuse to 
 do anything you are able to do, you must lose a month's 
 wages." " I'm satisfied," said Shan ; " and if you stop me 
 from doing a thing after telling me to do it, you are to give 
 me an additional month's wages." " I am satisfied." says 
 the master. " Or if you blame me for obeying your orders, 
 you must give the same." " I am satisfied," said the mas- 
 ter again. 
 
 The first day that Shan served he was fed very poorly, 
 and was worked to the saddleskirts. Next day he came in 
 just before the dinner was sent up to the parlour. They 
 were taking the goose off the spit, but well becomes Shan, 
 he whips a knife off the dresser, and cuts off one side of the 
 breast, one leg and thigh, and one wing, and fell to. In 
 came the master, and began to abuse him for his assurance. 
 
7 6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 " Oh, you know, master, you're to feed me, and wherever 
 the goose goes won't have to be filled again till supper. ■ 
 Are you sorry for our agreement 1 " The master was going 
 to cry out he was, but he bethought himself in time. " Oh 
 no, not at all/' said he. "That's well," said Shan. 
 
 Next day Jack was to go clamp turf on the bog. They 
 wern't sorry to have him away from the kitchen at dinner 
 time. He didn't find his breakfast very heavy on his sto- 
 mach ; so he said to the mistress, " I think, ma'am, it will 
 be better for me to get my dinner now, and not lose time 
 coming home from the bog." " That's true, Shan," said 
 she. So she brought out a good cake, and a print of but- 
 ter, and a bottle of milk, thinking he'd take them away to 
 the bog. But Shan kept his seat, and never drew rein till 
 bread, butter, and milk went down the red lane. " Now, 
 mistress," said he, " I'll be earlier at my work to-morrow 
 if I sleep comfortably on the sheltery side of a clamp [pile 
 of dry peat] on dry grass, and not be coming here and going 
 back. So you may as well give me my supper, and be done 
 with the day's trouble." She gave him that, thinking he'd 
 take it to the bog ; but he fell to on the spot, and did 
 not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was 
 a little astonished. 
 
 He called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said 
 he, " What are servants asked to do in this country after 
 aten their supper 1 " " Nothing at all, but to go to bed." 
 " Oh, very well, sir." He went up on the stable-loft, 
 stripped, and lay down, and some one that saw him told 
 the master. He came up. " Shan, you anointed sthron- 
 sliuch, what do you mean?" " To go to sleep, master. The 
 mistress, God bless her, is after giving me my breakfast, 
 dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the 
 next thing. Do you blame me, sir V "Yes, you rascal, 
 I do." " Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, 
 if you please, sir." " One divel and thirteen imps, you 
 tinker ! what for V " Oh, I see, you've forgot your bar- 
 gain. Are you sorry for if?" " Oh, ya — no, I mean. I'll 
 give you the money after your nap." 
 
 Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed 
 that day. "You are to be holding the plough in that 
 
SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTER. 77 
 
 fallow, outside the paddock/' The master went over about 
 nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was Shan, 
 and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, 
 and the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the 
 sod, and Shan pulling ding-dong again' the horses. " What 
 are you doing, you conthrary thief ? said the master. " An' 
 aint I strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you told 
 me ; but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the 
 bastes in spite of all I say; will you speak to him V 9 " No, 
 but I'll speak to you. Didn't you know, you bosthoon, that 
 when I said ' holding the plough,' I meant reddening the 
 ground." " Faith an' if you did, I wish you had said so. 
 Do you blame me for what I have done V The master 
 caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said 
 nothing. " Go on and redden the ground now, you knave, 
 as other ploughmen do." "An' are you sorry for our 
 agreement V 9 " Oh, not at all, mauya [forsooth] ! " Shan 
 ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the 
 day. 
 
 In a day or two the master bade him go and mind the 
 cows in afield that had half of it under young corn. " Be 
 sure, particularly," said he, " to keep Browney from the 
 wheat ; while she's out of mischief there's no fear of the 
 rest." About noon, he went to see how Shan was doing 
 his duty, and what did he find but Jack asleep with his 
 face to the sod, Browney grazing near a thorn-tree, one end 
 of a long rope round her horns, and the other end round 
 the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating 
 the green wheat. Down came the switch on Shan. " Shan, 
 you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at ] " " And 
 do you blame me, master 1 " " To be sure, you lazy, slug- 
 gard, I do 1 " " Hand me out one pound thirteen and 
 fourpence, master. You said if I only kept Browney out 
 of mischief, the rest would do no harm. There she is as 
 harmless as a lamb. Are you sorry for hiring me, master f ' 
 " To be — that is, not at all. I'll give you your money 
 when you go to dinner. JSTow, understand me ; don't let a 
 cow go out of the field nor into the wheat the rest of the 
 day." " Never fear, master ! " and neither did he. But 
 the bodach would rather than a great deal he had not 
 hired him. 
 
78 THE FTRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 The next day three heifers were missing, and the mas- 
 ter bade Jack go in search of them. " Where will I look 
 for them 1 " said Shan. " Oh, every place likely and un- 
 likely for them all to be in." The bodach was getting 
 very exact in his words. When he was coming into the 
 bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find Jack at but 
 pulling armfulls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into 
 the holes he was making 1 " What are you doing there, 
 you rascal T " Sure, I'm looking for the heifers, poor 
 things !" " What would bring them there V " I don't 
 think anything could bring them in it ; but I looked first 
 into the likely places, that is, the cow-houses, and the pas- 
 tures, and the fields next 'em, and now I'm looking in the 
 unlikeliest place I can think of. Maybe it's not pleasing 
 to you it is." " And to be sure it isn't pleasing to me, 
 you aggravating googein [goosecap] !" " Please sir, hand 
 me one pound thirteen and four pence before you sit down 
 to your dinner. I'm afraid it's sorrow that's on you for 
 hiring me at all." "May the div — oh no; I'm not sorry. 
 Will you begin if you please, and put in the thatch again, 
 just as if you were doing it for your mother's cabin V "Oh, 
 faith I will, sir, with a heart and a half ;" and by the time 
 the farmer came out from his dinner, Shan had the roof 
 better than it was before, for he made the boy give him new 
 straw. 
 
 Says the master when he came out, " Go, Shan, and 
 look for the heifers, and bring them home." " And where 
 will I look for 'em ¥' " Go and search for them as if they 
 were your own." The heifers were all in. the paddock 
 before sunset. 
 
 Next morning, says the bodach, " Jack, the path across 
 the bog to the pasture is very bad ; the sheep does be 
 sinking in it every step ; go and make it a good path with 
 the sheep's feet." About an hour after he came to the 
 edge of the bog, and what did he find Shan at but sharpen- 
 ing a carving knife, and the sheep standing or grazing round. 
 " Is this the way you are mending the path, Shan I" said 
 he. " Everything must have a beginning, master," said 
 Shan, " and a thing well begun is half done. I am sharpen- 
 ing the knife, and 111 have the feet off every sheep in the 
 
SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTEE. /9 
 
 flock while you'd be blessing yourself." "Feet off my 
 sheep, you anointed rogue ! and what would you be taking 
 their feet off for '? " " An sure to mend the path as you 
 told me. Says you, ' Shan, dean staidhear, &c., make a 
 path with the feet of the sheep/ " " Oh, you fool, I meant 
 make good the path for the sheep's feet." " It's a pity you 
 did'nt say so, master. Hand me out one pound thirteen 
 and fourpence if you don't like me to finish my job." "Divel 
 do you good with your one pound thirteen and fourpence !" 
 " It's better pray than curse, master. Maybe you're sorry 
 
 for your bargain ]" " And to be sure I am not yet, 
 
 any way." 
 
 The next night the bodach was going to a wedding ; and 
 says he to Jack, before he set out : a I'll leave at midnight, 
 and I wish you to come and be with me home, for fear I 
 might be overtaken with the drink. If you're there before, 
 you may throw a sheep's eye at me, and I'll be sure to see 
 that they'll give you something for yourself." 
 
 About eleven o'clock, while the bodach was in great 
 spirits, he felt something clammy hit him on the cheek. 
 It fell beside his tumbler, and what was it but the eye of 
 a sheep, and a very ugly looking article it was. Well, he 
 couldnt imagine who threw it at him, or why it was thrown 
 at him. After a little he got a blow on the other cheek, 
 and still it was by another sheep's eye. Well, he was very 
 vexed, but he thought better to say nothing. In two mi- 
 nutes more, when he was opening his mouth to take a sup, 
 another sheep's eye was slapped into it. He sputtered it 
 out, and cried, " Man o' the house, isn't it a great shame 
 for you to have any one in the room that would do such a 
 nasty thing V 9 " Master," says Shan, " don't blame the 
 honest man. Sure it's only myself that was thro win them 
 sheep's eyes at you, to remind you I was here, and that I 
 wanted to drink the bride and bridegroom's health. You 
 know yourself bade me." " I know that you are a great 
 rascal; and where did you get the eyes'?" "An' where 
 would I get 'em but in the heads of your own sheep 1 Would 
 you have me meddle with the bastes of any neighbour, who 
 might put me in the Stone Jug [gaol] for it?" " Mo chuma 
 [my sorrow] that ever I had the bad luck to meet with you." 
 
8o THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 " You're all witness," said Jack, "that my master says he 
 is sorry for having met with me. My time is up. Mas- 
 ter, hand me over double wages, and come into the next 
 room, and lay yourself out like a man that has some decency 
 in him, till I take a strip of skin an inch broad from your 
 shoulder to your hip." Every one shouted out against that ; 
 but, says Shan, " You didn't hinder him when he took the 
 same strips from the backs of my two brothers, and sent 
 them home in that state, and penniless, to their poor 
 mother.'' When the company heard the rights of the 
 business, they w r ere only too eager to see the job done. The 
 bodach bawled and roared, but there was no help at hand. 
 He was stripped to his hips, and laid on the floor in the 
 next room, and Jack had the carving knife in his hand 
 ready to begin. " Now, you cruel old villian," said he, 
 giving the knife a couple of scrapes along the floor, " I'll 
 make you an offer. Give me, along with my double wages, 
 two hundred pounds to support my poor brothers, and I'll 
 do without the strap." " No ! " said he, " I'd let you skin 
 me from head to foot first." " Here goes then," said Shan 
 with a grin, but the first little scar he gave, bodach roared 
 out, " Stop your hand \ I'll give the money." 
 
 "Now, neighbours," said Shan, "you mustn't think worse 
 of me than I deserve. I wouldn't have the heart to take 
 an eye out of a rat itself ; I got half a dozen of them from 
 the butcher, and only used three of them." 
 
 So all came again into the other room, and Shan was 
 made sit down, and everybody drank his health, and he 
 drank everybody's health at one offer. And six stout fel- 
 lows saw himself and the bodach home, and waited in the 
 parlour while he went up and brought dowm the two hundred 
 guineas, and double wages for Shan himself. "When he got 
 home, he brought the summer along with him to the poor 
 mother and the disabled brothers ; and he was no more 
 Shan an Omadhan in the people's mouths, but Shan 
 a'Ruisgeach, " Jack the Skinner." 
 
[ Si ] 
 
 THE PEINCESS IN THE CAT-SKINS. 
 
 There was once a queen that was left a widow with one 
 daughter, who was as good and handsome as any girl could 
 be. But her mother wasn't satisfied to remain without a 
 husband ; so she married again, and a very bad choice she 
 made. Her second husband treated her very badly ; and 
 she died soon after. Well, would you ever think of the 
 widower taking it into his head to marry the young prin- 
 cess at the end of a year ] She was as shocked as she could 
 be when he made her the offer, and burst out a crying. "I 
 took you too sudden," said he. " Sleep on it, and you can 
 give me an answer to-morrow. ' ; 
 
 She was in great trouble all the rest of the day, and when 
 the evening came she went out into the paddock, where a 
 beautiful filly she used to ride was grazing. " Oh my poor 
 beast ! " said she, " I'm sure if you knew my trouble you'd 
 pity me." " I do know your trouble, and I pity you, and 
 I'll help you too," says the filly. " I'm the fairy that watch- 
 ed over you from the time you were born, and I am here 
 near you since your mother married the second time. Your 
 stepfather is an enchanter, but he'll find me too strong for 
 him. Don't seem shocked when he'll ask your consent to- 
 morrow, but say you must have first a dress of silk and 
 silver thread that will fit into a walnut shell. He'll pro- 
 mise, and will be able to get it made too, but I'll bother his 
 spinner and his weaver long enough before he'll get it wove, 
 and his seamstress after that, before it's sewed." 
 
 The princess done as she was bid, and the enchanter 
 was in great joy ; but he was kept in great trouble and 
 anger for a full half year before the dress was ready to go 
 on the princess. At last it was fitted, and he asked her 
 was she ready to be his wife. " I'll tell you to-morrow," 
 said she. So she went to consult her filly in the paddock. 
 
 Well, the next day he put the question to her again, and 
 she said that she couldn't think of marrying any one till 
 she had another dress of silk and gold thread that would 
 fit in a walnut shell. " I wish you had mentioned itself 
 and the silver dress together. Both could have been done 
 at the same time. No matter : I'll get it done." What- 
 
 6 
 
82 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 ever trouble the spinner and the weaver and the seam- 
 stress had with the other dress, they had twice it with 
 this ; but at last it was tried on, and fitted like a glove. 
 
 "Well now," says Fear Dhorrach, "I hope your'e satisfied, 
 and won't put off the wedding again." "Oh, you must 
 forgive me," said she, " for my vanity." She was talking 
 to the fiily the evening before. "I can't do without a dress 
 of silk thread as thick as it can be with diamonds and pearls 
 no larger than the head of a minnikin pin. Three is a 
 lucky number, you know." " Well, I wish you had men- 
 tioned this at first, and the three could be making together. 
 ISTow this is the very last thing you'll ask, I expect." " Oh, 
 I'll never ask another, you may depend, till I'm married." 
 She didn't say till we're married. The dress came home at 
 last. Well, the same evening she found on her bed another 
 made from bottom to top of cat- skins, and this she put on. 
 She put her three walnut-shells in her pocket, and then 
 stole out to the stable, where she found her filly with a 
 bridle in her mouth, and the nicest side-saddle ever you 
 saw on her back. Away they went, and when the light 
 first appeared in the sky they were a hundred miles away. 
 
 They stopped at the edge of a wood, and the princess 
 was very glad to rest herself on a bunch of dry grass at the 
 foot of a tree. She wasn't a minute there when she fell 
 asleep ; and soundly she did sleep, till she was woke up by 
 the blowing of bugles and the yelping of beagles. She 
 jumped up in a fright. There was no filly near her, but 
 half a hundred spotted hounds were within forty perches of 
 her, yelling out of them like vengeance. I needn't tell you 
 she was frightened. She had hardly power to put one foot 
 past the other, and she'd be soon tore into giblets by the 
 dogs on account of her dress, but a fine young hunter leaped 
 over their heads, and they all fell back when he shook his 
 whip and shouted at them. So he came to the princess, 
 and there she was as wild-looking as you please, with her 
 cat-skins hanging round her, and her face and hands and 
 arms as brown as a berry, from a wash she put on herself 
 before she left home. W r ell that didn't hinder her features 
 from being handsome, and the prince was astonished at her 
 beauty and her colour and her dress, when he found she 
 
THE PRINCESS IN THE CAT-SKINS. 83 
 
 was a stranger, and alone in the world. He got off his 
 horse, and walked side by side with her to his palace, for 
 he was the young king of that country. 
 
 He sent for his housekeeper when he came to the hall- 
 door, and bid her employ the young girl about whatever 
 she was fit for, and then set off to follow the hounds again. 
 Well, there was great tittering in the servants' hall among 
 the maids at her colour and her dress, and the ganders of 
 footmen would like to be joking with her, but she made 
 no freedom with one or the other, and when the butler 
 thought to give her a kiss, she gave him a light slap on the 
 jaw that wouldn't kill a fly, but he felt as if a toothache was 
 at him for eight and forty-hours. By my word, the other 
 buckeens did not give her an excuse to raise her hand to 
 them. Well, she was so silent and kept herself to herself 
 so much, that she was no favourite, and they gave her 
 nothing better to do than help the scullery maid, and at 
 night she had to put up with a little box of a place under 
 the stairs for a bed-room. 
 
 The next day, when the prince returned from hunting, he 
 sent word to the housekeeper by the whipper-in to let the 
 new servant bring him up a basin and towel till he'd wash 
 before dinner. "Oh, ho !" says the cook, " there's an honour 
 for Cat-skin. I'm here for forty years and never was asked 
 to do such a thing ; how grand we are ! purshuin to all 
 impedent people !" The princess didn't mind their jibes 
 and their jeers. She took up the things, and the prince 
 delayed her ever so long with remarks and questions, striv- 
 ing to get out of her what rank of life she was born in. 
 As little as she said he guessed her to be a lady. I suppose 
 it is as hard for a lady or gentleman to pass for a vulgarian, 
 as for one of us to act like one of the quality. Well to be 
 sure ! all the cold and scornful noses that were in the big 
 kitchen before her ; and it was, " Cat-skin, will you hand 
 me this 1 Cat-skin, will you grease my shoes 1 Cat-skin, 
 will you draw a jug of beer for me V And she done every- 
 thing she was asked without a word or a sour look. 
 
 Next night the prince was at a ball about three miles 
 away, and the princess got leave from the housekeeper to go 
 early to bed. Well, she couldn't get herself to lie down : 
 
84 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 slie was in a fever like; she threw off her outside dress, and 
 she stepped out into the lawn to get a little fresh air. There 
 what did she behold but her dear filly under a tree. She 
 ran over, and threw her arms round her neck, and kissed 
 her face, and began to cry. " No time for crying ! " says 
 the filly. " Take out the first walnut shell you got." She 
 did so, and opened it. " Hold what's inside over your head," 
 said the other, and in a moment the silk and silver dress 
 wrapped her round as if a dozen manty -makers were after 
 spending an hour about it. " Get on that stump/' says the 
 filly, " and jump into the side-saddle." She did so, and in 
 a few minutes they were at the hall door of the castle where 
 the ball was. There she sprung from her saddle, and walked 
 into the hall. Lights were in the hall and everywhere, 
 and nothing could equal the glitter of the princess's robes 
 and the accoutrements of her steed. It was like the curling 
 of a stream in the sun. 
 
 You may believe that the quality were taken by surprise, 
 when the princess w r alked in among them as if they w T ere 
 the lords and ladies in her father's court. The young king 
 came forward as he saw the rest were a little cowed, and 
 bade her good evening and welcome ; and they talked what- 
 ever way kings and queens and princesses do, and he made 
 her sit on Ins ow T n seat of honour, and took a stool or a 
 chair near her, and if he wasn't delighted and surprised, her 
 features were so like the scullery maid's, leave it till again. 
 
 They had a fine supper and a dance, and the prince and 
 she danced, and every minute his love for her was increas- 
 ing, but at last she said she should go. Every one was 
 sorry, and the prince more than anyone, and he came with 
 her to the hall, and asked might he see her safe home. But 
 she showed him her filly and excused herself. Said he, 
 " IT1 have my brown horse brought, and myself and my 
 servants will attend you." " Hand me up on my filly," 
 says she, " first of all," and, be the laws, I don't know how 
 princes put princesses on horseback. Maybe one of the 
 servants stoops his back, and the prince goes on one knee, 
 and she steps first on his knee and then on the servant's 
 back, and then sits in the saddle. Anyhow she was safe up, 
 and she took the prince's hand, and bid him good night, and 
 
THE PRINCESS TN THE CAT-SKINS. 8$ 
 
 the filly and herself were away like a flash of lightning in 
 the dark night. 
 
 Well, everything appeared dismal enough when he went 
 back to where a hundred tongues were going hard and fast 
 about the lady in the dazzling dress. 
 
 Next morning he bid his footman ask the girl in the 
 cat-skin to bring him hot water and a towel for him to shave. 
 She came in as modest and backward as you please ; but 
 whenever the prince got a peep at her face, there were the 
 beautiful eyes and nose and mouth of the lady in the glit- 
 tering dress, but all as brown as a bit of bogwood. He 
 thought to get a little talk out of her, but dickens a word 
 would come out of her mouth but yes or no. And when 
 he asked her was she of high birth, she turned off the dis- 
 course and would' nt say one thing or the other ; and when 
 he asked would she like to put on nice clothes and be about 
 his mother, she refused just as if he asked her to drown 
 herself. So he found he could make nothing of her, and let 
 her go down stairs. 
 
 There was another great ball in a week's time, and the 
 very same thing took place again. There was the princess, 
 and the dress she had on was of silk and gold thread, and 
 the darlintest little gold crown in the world over her purty 
 curling hair. If the prince was in love before, he was up 
 to his eyes in it this time ; but while they were going on 
 with the nicest sweet talk, says she, " I'm afraid, prince, 
 that you are in the habit of talking lovingly to every girl 
 you meet." Well, he was very eager to prove he was not. 
 " Then," said she, " a little bird belied you as I was coming 
 through the wood. He said that you weren't above talking 
 soft even to a young servant girl with her skin as brown 
 as a berry, and her dress no better than cat-skin. ; ' " I de- 
 clare to you, princess," said he, " there is such a girl at 
 home, and if her skin was as white as yours, and her dress 
 the same, no eye could see a bit of differ between you." 
 " Oh, thankee, prince !" says she, lt for the compliment ; it's 
 time for me to be going." Well, he thought to mollify her, 
 but she curled her upper lip and cocked her nose, and 
 wasn't long till she left, the way she did before. While 
 she was getting on her filly,, he almost went down on his 
 
86 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 knees to her to make it up. So at last she smiled, and 
 said, " If I can make up my mind to forgive you, I'll come 
 to the next ball without invitation." So she was away, 
 and when they came under the tree in the lawn she took 
 the upper hem of her dress in her fingers and it came off 
 like a glove, and she made her way in at the back door, 
 and into her crib at the stair-foot. 
 
 The prince slept little that night, and in the morning he 
 sent his footman to ask the girl in the cat-skins to bring up 
 a needle and thread to sew a button on his shirt-sleeve. 
 lie watched her ringers, and saw they were small and of a 
 lovely shape ; and when one of them touched his w 7 rist, it 
 felt as soft and delicate as silk. All he could say got no- 
 thing out of her only, " It wasn't a nice thing for a prince 
 to speak in that way to a girl of low degree, and he boast- 
 ing of it after to princesses and great ladies." Well, how 
 he did begin to deny anything so ungenteel, but the button 
 was sewed, and she skipped away down stairs. 
 
 The third night came, and she shook the dress of silk 
 and pearls and diamonds over her, and the nicest crown of 
 the same on her head. As grand and beautiful as she was 
 before, she was twice as grand now ; and the lords and 
 ladies hardly dared to speak above their breaths, and the 
 prince thought he was in heaven. He asked her at last 
 would she be his queen, and not keep him in misery any 
 longer, and she said she would, if she was sure he wouldn't 
 ask Miss Cat-skin the same question next day. Oh, how 
 he spoke, and how he promised ! He asked leave to see 
 her safe home, but she wouldn't agree. " But don't be 
 downcast," said she, " you will see me again sooner than 
 you think ; and if you know me when you meet me next, 
 we'll part no more." Just as she was sitting in her saddle, 
 and the prince was holding her hand, he slipped a dawny 
 limber ring of gold on one finger. It was so small and so 
 nice to the touch he thought she wouldn't feel it. " And 
 now, my princess," says he to himself, " I think I'll know 
 you when I meet you." 
 
 Next morning he sent again for the scullery girl, and she 
 came and made a curtchy. il What does your majesty want 
 me to do 1 " said she. " Only to advise me which of these 
 
THE PRINCESS IN THE CAT-SKINS. 87 
 
 two suits of clothes would look best on me; I'm going to be 
 married. " " Ah, how could the likes of me be able to ad- 
 vise you 1 Is the rich dressed lady, that I heard the foot- 
 men talking about, to be your queen 1 " " Yourself is as 
 likely to be my wife as that young lady." " Then who is 
 it ? " " Yourself, I tell you." " Myself ! How can your 
 majesty joke that way on a poor girl 1 They say you're 
 promised to the lady of the three rich dresses." " I'm pro- 
 mised to no one but yourself. I asked you twice already 
 to be my queen ; I ask you now the third time." " Yes, 
 and maybe after all, you'll marry the lady of the dresses." 
 " You promised you'd have me if I knew you the next time 
 we'd meet. This is the next time. If I don't know you, I 
 know my ring on your fourth ringer." She looked, and 
 there it was sure enough. Maybe she didn't blush. " Will 
 your majesty step into the next room for a minute," said 
 she, " and leave me by myself ? " He did so, and when she 
 opened the door for him again, there she was with the brown 
 stain off her face and hands, and her dazzling dress of silk 
 and jewels on her. Wasn't he the happy prince, and she 
 the happy princess 1 And weren't the noisy servants lewd 
 of themselves when they saw poor Cat-skin in her royal 
 dress saying the words before the priest 1 They didn't put 
 off their marriage, and there was the fairy now in the ap- 
 pearance of a beautiful woman ; and if I was to tell you 
 about the happy life they led, I'd only be tiring you. 
 
 THE WELL AT THE WORLD'S END. 
 
 Once there was a king that had three sons, and he was so 
 sick that no one thought he'd ever recover. They went to 
 consult a wise old hermit that lived in a wood near, and he 
 said that nothing would cure the king but a draught from the 
 World's-£nd water. So the eldest son thought to himself, 
 — " I'll set out to bring this drink, and then I'll be sure to 
 get all the kingdom from my father when he's about to die." 
 So he got leave from his father and set out. He went first 
 to the hermit, and asked him whereabouts was the " End 
 
00 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND, 
 
 of the world," and the hermit gave him directions how he'd 
 go to it. He was to cross seven seas, and seven lakes, and 
 seven rivers, and seven mountains, and seven hills, and 
 seven commons, and then he'd see before him a castle of 
 brass, and all he knew farther was that the Well of the 
 World' s-End water was in the garden of that castle. 
 
 So the prince set out, and one day he sat down by the 
 way side to eat some bread and cold meat. Up came a 
 poor, ragged, withered old woman, and asked him to give 
 her a bit to keep the life in her. " Go away, you old hag, 
 out of that ! " said he, "I have nothing for you." "Well, 
 well," said she ; " God help the poor ! But would your 
 majesty tell a poor body where you're going 1 " " What's 
 that to you, you old witch 1 " said he again ; " go about 
 your business, and don't be bothering me ! " " Well, 
 prince," said she, " your birth is better than your manners 
 anyhow. Still, for sake of the king and queen that owns 
 you, I'll give you an advice. Never blow your bugle till 
 you first draw your sword, and when you're on duty resist 
 temptation." " Thank you for nothing," said he. " I've 
 got enough of you." So she went away, muttering. 
 
 Well, when he passed the remaining hills and com- 
 mons and lakes and rivers, he saw far off the castle of 
 brass, and in good time he arrived at it. There was a bugle 
 horn hanging by the door, and, without minding the old 
 woman's advice, he put it to his mouth and blew it with- 
 out thinking of his sword. Open flew the door, and out 
 on him rushed two lions roaring like thunder. He thought 
 to pull out his sword, but they kept on biting and scratch- 
 ing and tearing him till he thought he was done for. " Go 
 then," says one of them. "You are a bad prince, but you 
 are on a good business, and we'll give you your life." 
 Well, he stumbled in, and there he was in a long hall, and 
 at each side were standing fifty knights in armour, holding 
 up their spears, and all dead asleep. His heart beat, but he 
 passed on, and in the next hall there was a beautiful prin- 
 cess with a crown on her head, and she sitting on a throne. 
 He approached her, and made all sorts of nice speeches to 
 her, but she reminded him of the business he was on, and 
 told him there was no time to be lost. "After passing 
 
THE WELL AT THE WORLD'S END. 89 
 
 through the next hall/' said she, " you will be in the garden 
 where the well of the World's-End water springs. If you 
 are not out of the castle with your bottle full before the 
 clock strikes twelve, there's a heavy doom hanging over 
 you." 
 
 In the next hall there was a table laid out with the 
 finest food and drink the prince ever saw, and he was so 
 tired with walking, and so spent in his struggle with the 
 lions, that he fell to. The clock still wanted a quarter ; 
 he'd have time enough. "When it was two minutes before 
 the hour he went into the garden, and he was so hot, and 
 it was so delightful in the shade, for the well was under a 
 tree, that he sat down on a garden seat, and felt that it 
 w r ould be as much as his life was worth to be obliged to 
 leave it. While he was half dozing, the clock began to 
 strike. Oh, murder ! he began to fill the bottle as fast as 
 he could, but it was on the seventh stroke before he had 
 it filled. Seven, eight, nine, ten, — he was in the dining 
 room, and in the lady's room. It was eleven when he was 
 running into the knight's hall, but he was only in the mid- 
 dle of it when bang went twelve, and the knights struck 
 the ends of their spears on the ground, and came round him 
 in a ring. What could his single sword do against so many. 
 He hadn't even power to draw it. A rough fellow w T ith a 
 bush of red hair on his head came in, and tied him hand 
 and foot, and threw him into a dungeon. 
 
 Well, his place was empty at home for half a year, and 
 then his next brother set out ; and to make a long story 
 short, he behaved the same way and got the same treatment. 
 Last of all the youngest set off, and very differently he 
 behaved to the poor old woman, and she gave him when 
 they were parting two cakes, and told him what to do with 
 them. 
 
 When he reached the castle he drew the sword, and then 
 blew the bugle horn. Open flew the doors, and out rushed 
 the lions. But he held out a cake to each beast, and down 
 they sat like two lambs to eat them. He went through the 
 first hall, and went on one knee before the lady in the 
 second. There was pleasure on her face at the sight of him, 
 but she told him there was no delay to be made. So he 
 
<?0 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 passed through the next room without taking bit or sup, 
 though he felt as hungry and thirsty as he could be. The 
 greatest temptation was on him when he went into the 
 garden — he was so hot and faint — to sit on the seat and en- 
 joy the cool, but he didn't give way. He filled his bottle 
 and returned through the dining hall without sitting down 
 to refresh himself. He would have stopped to speak to the 
 lady, but she warned him away, and he had no temptation 
 to stop between the two rows of the men in the iron armour. 
 He passed the lions who were still eating their cakes, and 
 when he closed the door after him he blew the bugle with 
 all his force. The sound came out like thunder where the 
 rocks are on every side, and before it ceased, down came 
 the castle as if the sky was falling. The stones never sunk 
 into the earth, they vanished after seeming to fall a little, 
 though the noise they made was frightful. When all was 
 cleared, there was neither lions, nor armed men, nor loaded 
 tables to be seen. The princess was sitting on a grassy 
 ridge, and the two brothers lying unbound in a furrow. 
 
 There was great joy among the four, for the princess was 
 released from enchantment as w T ell as the brothers from their 
 chains. They set out for the palace, but they were met on 
 the road by a coach and horses, which the princess said were 
 sent by a powerful friend she had. The elder brothers saw 
 that either of them had little chance to be her husband : so at 
 times they plotted together, and when they were near home, 
 at the very spot where the old woman met with them all, 
 they fell on their youngest brother, tied him neck and heels, 
 and left him inside of the wood to die of pain and hunger. 
 The princess gave one cry when she saw her prince seized, 
 but never opened her mouth after till they reached the 
 palace. The brothers then made her swear that she would 
 never reveal who got the water, or what became of the 
 youngest prince, and she did so without the smallest ob- 
 jection. 
 
 Well, there was great joy in the palace when the princes 
 and the beautiful lady arrived, and when they told that they 
 returned with the water. They said they knew nothing 
 of their youngest brother, and that made the king sad. 
 However, the eldest son called for a cup of gold, and pour- 
 
THE WELL AT THE WORLD S END. 9 I 
 
 ed in some of the water, and handed it to his father. He 
 drank some of it, but laid dow 7 n the cup in a moment. He 
 said he was seized with, a colic, and cried out with the 
 pain. "Let me give the drink," said the second eldest, 
 " you know it was I that got it." He took up the cup 
 and handed it to the king; but as bad as he was before, he 
 was twice worse now ; and how the brothers looked at one 
 another ! They begged the princess to hand the cup next, 
 but she didn't seem to hear them. Well, all were at their 
 wits' end, when in walked a tallbeggarwoman and her son, 
 and both in rags. " Will your majesty allow this young 
 man to hand you the cup V* " Oh, if it is of any use, let 
 him do so ; but if not, he'll be torn between wild horses." 
 " Oh, very well." The young man went forward, and pre- 
 sented the cup, but the king turned all manner of colours, 
 and twisted his face into a dozen of forms before he'd let it 
 to his lips again. The moment he swallowed one sup his 
 late pains left him, and his old sickness was gone, and he 
 stood up in perfect health. He was about opening his 
 mouth to thank the boy and his mother, but she touched 
 him with a rod she had in her hands, and his rags were 
 gone, and there was the youngest prince in his own dress, 
 and as handsome as the May ! 
 
 A fine looking woman was where the beggar stood a 
 minute since, and she wasn't long about explaining the 
 whole wickedness of the brothers. They looked for all the 
 world like two dogs that had lost their tails, and seemed to 
 wish to sink into the ground. They were banished the 
 same day from the court, and the next clay came on the mar- 
 riage of the youngest son with the enchanted lady. 
 
 THE POOR GIRL THAT BECAME A QUEEN. 
 
 A cottier-man and his daughter lived near a king's palace, 
 and they were so poor that the girl advised her father one 
 day to go to the king, and ask him for three or four acres 
 of land, so that they could keep body and soul together. 
 " Come along with me," said he, " and I will." So when 
 
92 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 the king was going out to have a walk after his breakfast, 
 they put themselves in his way, and the father made the 
 request. The king granted it : I believe he was pleased 
 with the smoothness of the young girl's face, and the sense 
 he saw in it. 
 
 Well, they worked away on the little farm as happy as 
 you please, till one day, when they dug up a golden mortar 
 from under the sod (them is things used by pottecaries 
 to grind their drugs in). " Oh, my ! " says the father, 
 " this is the king's property ; I'll take it to him ; he well 
 deserves it." " Don't, father," says the girl, " he'll ask for 
 the crushing stick along with it." " Crushing stick indeed! 
 he'll be too glad of the bowl." So he wouldn't be persuaded, 
 and be this and be that he was soon sorry enough for it. 
 The king, instead of thanking him for the mortar, asked for 
 the pounder, and when it wasn't to the fore, " Take that 
 man," says he to his guards, " and put him in prison, and 
 keep him on bread and water till he finds the pounding 
 stick." 
 
 Well, two days after, the jailer came into the king's pre- 
 sence, and says he, " Maybe your majesty would order the 
 new premer to some other place, for he lets no one rest or 
 sleep that's near him, crying out, " Oh, if I'd been said and 
 led by my daughter! Oh, if I'd been said and led by my 
 daughter !" " Send him in to me," says the king. Well, 
 when he came, says the king "What are you moithering 
 every one about you for, with your daughter and her ad- 
 vice ? " " An' sure, your majesty, if I'd taken it I wouldn't 
 be now in preson. Says I, when I dug up the gold mortar, 
 * I'll take this to the king, God bless him ! ' ' Don't, 
 father,' says she, * he'll be wanten the poundher.' " " Go 
 home," says the king, " and send her to the palace." 
 
 Well, she made herself as dasent as she could, and pre- 
 sented herself, and the king was greatly pleased with her 
 comely face and her good sense, and after conversing with 
 her for some time, says he, " I'll give you a riddle. Come 
 here to-morrow neither with your clothes nor without them, 
 neither riding in car nor coach, nor on a beast's back, nor 
 carried in any way, nor walking on your feet. If you do 
 this, I'll tell you more of my mind." 
 
THE POOR GIRL THAT BECAME A QUEEN. 93 
 
 Well, the next day the king was sitting on his door-step, 
 and his lords were standing on each side waiting to see if 
 the girl would find out the riddle, and by my word they 
 were soon at their ease. They heard a clatter outside the 
 bawn, and some one crying out hub! and hoe! and in came 
 an ass very ill at his ease, for there was a fisherman's net 
 tied to his tail, and the same net was wrapt round my brave 
 girl, who had nothing on her above her waist, and she was 
 neither carried, nor riding, nor walking, but standing on 
 her two big toes in the net, and guiding and whipping the 
 poor assol, that was dragging her along very much against 
 his will. 
 
 " My brave wise girl that you were ! " says the king. " If 
 you wont be my queen I'll have no other ;" and married 
 they were off-hand, and lived seven years together in the 
 greatest comfort. 
 
 One day some countrymen came to the palace with loads 
 of firewood. One man had a horse, and a mare, and a foal, 
 and another had two bullocks. The foal was gambolling 
 about, and got m between the bullocks, and when they were 
 leaving, the owner of the beasts would not let the little 
 fellow go back to his mother and father ; he said the bul- 
 locks owned him. The other man complained to the king, 
 but whether he was thinking of something else, or wished 
 to put a greater punishment on the rogue of a bullock-owner 
 next day, he ordered that the foal should be left where he 
 was. 
 
 Well, the poor man was stomached enough you may de- 
 pend, and didn't know what to do till he bethought of the 
 queen and her great wit, and her being a cottier-man's 
 daughter. So he asked to see her, and this is the way he 
 acted according to her advice. 
 
 ^ext day the king was passing out on some business, 
 and what should he see in the middle of the road but the 
 owner of the foal hard and fast at work, casting a net in 
 the dust, drawing it in, opening it out, lifting his handfuls 
 of nothing out of it, and pitching them into his sack. "What 
 nonsense is this you're at V says the king. "You'll take 
 no fish on the yellow high road." "I will, your Majesty, 
 as many as you'll find foals between a pair of bullocks." 
 
94 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 * Who told you to say and do this 1" said the king. "My 
 own brain/' said the man. " I'll let yon see the conthmry" 
 said the king. Put this fellow in prison, and let him nei- 
 ther eat, drink, nor sleep till he confesses who was his ad- 
 viser/' 
 
 Well, the poor man held out for three days, till at last he 
 didn't know whether he was dead or alive, and then it came 
 out that he was speaking to the Queen, and when the king 
 was told of it, he sent for her, and this is what he said : — 
 "I ought to've known that an ignorant country girl could 
 never demean herself in a high station. You have let your- 
 self down so low by your coshering and cuggering with that 
 woodman, that you must go back to your father/' Well, 
 she cried and sobbed, but said he, "It's no use, we must 
 part. However, you were a good wife, and you may take 
 with you whatever treasures are in the palace that you value 
 most." " I must submit/' says she, " but let us take one 
 meal together, and drink one parting drink before you send 
 me away." " With all my heart," says he. They ate and 
 they drank, and the king didn't rightly remember how she 
 parted from him. Twenty-four hours after, he opened his 
 eyes, and saw nothing round him but the poor walls and 
 furniture of a cabin. 
 
 Loudly he called for his servants, but there was no 
 answer, and very surprised and frightened he was. He 
 called louder, and in came his wife — more beautiful than 
 ever she appeared— and threw her arms round his neck. 
 " Oh, have I you still, my darling! " said he ; "but where 
 are wel" " In the cabin I was born in/' said she. " You 
 gave me leave to bring away what I valued most. I put a 
 sleepy posset in your wine, and got you nicely covered up 
 in a quilt, and carried here." 
 
 "Ah, what a headstrong fool I was,"said he. "But I hope 
 I'll live long enough to make you forget that one act." 
 I'll let you all fancy how rejoiced the people in the palace 
 were when they saw their king and queen coming back arm 
 and arm. If ourselves lived under such a man and woman, 
 it isn't aten dry potatoes we'd be, one and twenty times a 
 week for novelty. 
 
[ 95 ] 
 
 THE GRATEFUL BEASTS. 
 
 There was once a young man, and it happened that he had 
 a guinea in his pocket, and was going to some fair or pat- 
 tern or another, and while he was on the way, he saw some 
 little hoys scourging a poor mouse they were after catching. 
 " Come, gorsoons," says he, " don't be at that cruel work ; 
 here's sixpence for you to buy gingerbread and let him go." 
 They only wanted the wind of the word, and off jumped 
 the mouse. He didn't go much farther, when he overtook 
 another parcel of young geochachs, and they tormenting the 
 life out of a poor weasel. Well, he bought him off for a 
 shilling, and went on. The third creature he rescued from 
 a crowd of grown up young rascals was an ass, and he had 
 to give a whole half crown to get him off. 
 
 " Now," says poor Neddy, " you may as well take me 
 with you. Til be of some use carrying you when you're 
 tired." " With all my heart," says Jack. The day was 
 very hot, and the boy sat under a tree to enjoy the cool. 
 As sure as he did he fell asleep without intending it, but 
 he was soon woke up by a wicked looking bodach and his 
 two servants. i( How dare you let your ass go trespass on 
 my inch" [river meadow] says he, " and do such mischief." 
 "I had no notion he'd do anything of the kind : I dropped 
 asleep by accidence." " Oh be this an' be that ! I'll accidence 
 you. Bring out that chest," says he to one of his gillas ; 
 and while you'd be sayin' thrapsticks they had the poor boy 
 lyin' on the broad of his back in it, and a strong hempen 
 rope tied round it, and himself an' itself flung into the river. 
 
 Well, they went away to their business, and poor Neddy 
 stayed roarin' an' bawlin' on the bank, till who should come 
 up but the weasel and the mouse, and they axed him what 
 ailed him. " An' isn't the kind boy that rescued me from 
 them scoggins that were tormenting me just now, fastened 
 up in a chest and dhrivin down that terrible river V* " Oh, 
 says the weasel, "he must be the same boy that rescued 
 the mouse and myself. Had he a brown piece on the elbow 
 of his coat ? " " The very same." " Come then," says the 
 weasel, " and let us overtake him, and get him out." " By 
 all means," says the others. So the weasel got on the ass's 
 
96 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 back, and the mouse in his ear, and away with them. They 
 hadn't the trouble of going far, when they see the chest 
 which was stopped among the rushes at the edge of a little 
 island. Over they went, and the weasel and the mouse 
 gnawed the rope till they had the led off, and their master 
 out on the bank. Well, they were all very glad, and were 
 conversing together, when what should the weasel spy but 
 a beautiful egg with the loveliest colours on the shell lying 
 down in the shallow water ? He wasn't long till he had it 
 up, and Jack was turning it round and round, and ad- 
 miring it. " Oh, musha, my good friends," says he, " I 
 wish it was in my power to show my gratitude to you, and 
 that I had a fine castle and estate where we could live with 
 fall and plenty ! " The words were hardly out of his mouth 
 when the beasts and himself found themselves standing 
 on the steps of a castle, and the finest lawn before it that 
 ever you saw. 
 
 There was no one inside nor outside to dispute possession 
 with them, and there they lived as happy as kings, They 
 found money enough inside in a cupboard, and the house 
 had the finest furniture in every room, and it was an easy 
 matter to hire servants and labourers. 
 
 Jack was standing at his gate one day, as three merchants 
 were passing by with their goods packed on the backs of 
 horses and mules. " Death alive ! " says they, what's this 
 for? There was neither castle, nor lawn, nor three here the 
 last time we went by." 
 
 u True for you ! " says Jack. • But you shant be the worse 
 for it. Take your beasts into the bawn behind the house, 
 and give 'em a good feed, and if you're not in a hurry, stay 
 and take a bit of dinner with myself." They wished for no 
 better, and after dinner the innocent slob of a Jack let 
 himself be overtaken, and showed them his painted egg, 
 and told 'em every thing that happened him. As sure as 
 the hearth money, one of 'em puts a powder in Jack's next 
 tumbler, and when he woke it was in the island he found 
 himself, with his patched coat on him, and his three friends 
 sitting on their currabingoes near him, and looking very 
 down in the mouth. 
 
 "Ah, master ! ;; says the weasel, " you'll never be wise 
 
THE GRATEFUL BEASTS. 97 
 
 enough for the thricky people that's in the world. Where 
 did them thieves say they lived, and what's the name that's 
 on ? emf" Jack scratched his head, and after a little re- 
 collected the town. "Come, Neddy," says the weasel, "let 
 us be jogging." So he got on his back, and the mouse in 
 his ear, and the ass swum the river, and nothing is said of 
 their travels till they came to the house of the head rogue. 
 The mouse went in, and the ass and the weasel sheltered 
 themselves in a copse outside. He soon came back to 
 them. "Well, what news'?" " Dull news enough. He 
 has the egg in a low press in his bed-room, and a pair of 
 cats with fiery eyes watching it night and day, and they 
 chained to the press, and the room door double locked." 
 "Let us go back !" says the ass; we can't do nothing." 
 " Wait," says the weasel." 
 
 When sleep time came, says the weasel to the mouse, "Go 
 in at the key hole, and get behind the rogue's head, an' 
 stay two or three hours sucking his hair." " What good 
 in that 1 " says the ass. " Wait, an' you'll know," says the 
 weasel. Next morning the merchant was quite mad to 
 find the way his hair was in. "But I'll disappoint you to- 
 night, you thief of a mouse," says he. So he unchained 
 the cats next night, and bid them sit by his bed-side and 
 watch. 
 
 Just as he was dropping asleep, the weasel and mouse 
 were outside the door, and gnawing away till they had a 
 hole scooped out at the bottom. In went the mouse, and 
 it was'nt long till he had the egg outside. They were soon 
 on the road again ; the mouse in the ass's ear, the weasel 
 on his back, and the egg in the weasel's mouth. When 
 they came to the river, and were swimming across, the ass 
 began to bray. " Hee haw, hee haw ! " says he, " is there 
 the likes of me in the world V I'm carrying the mouse, and 
 the weasel, and the great enchanted egg, that can do any- 
 thing. Why don't yous praise me 1 " But the mouse was 
 asleep, and the weasel was afraid of opening his mouth. 
 " I'll shake yous off, you ungrateful pack if you don't," says 
 the ass again ; and the poor weasel, forgetting himself, cried 
 out, " Oh, don't ! " and down went the e'gg in the deepest 
 pool of the river. " Now you done it," says the weasel, 
 
98 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 and you may be sure the ass looked very lewd of himself. 
 " Oh, what are we to do now, at all, at alii " says he. 
 " Never despair," says the weasel. He looked down into 
 the deep water and cried, " Hear, all you frogs and fish ! 
 There is a great army coming to take yous out, and eat 
 yous red raw ; look sharp ! " " Oh, and what can we do?' 
 says they, coming up to the top. " Gather up all the stones, 
 and hand them to us, and we'll make a big wall on the 
 bank to defend you." They began to work like little divels 
 in a mud wall, and were hard and fast reaching up the peb- 
 bles they found on the bottom. At last a big frog came up 
 with the egg in his mouth, and when the weasel had hold 
 of it, he got up in a tree, and cried out, " That will do. 
 The army is frightened and running away." So the poor 
 things were greatly relieved. 
 
 You may be sure that Jack was very rejoiced to see his 
 friends and the egg again. They were soon back in their 
 castle and lawn, and when Jack began to feel lonesome he 
 did not find it hard to make out a fine young wife for him- 
 self, and his three friends were as happy as the day was 
 long. 
 
 THE GILLA RUA. 
 
 The Gilla Rua [Eed Fellow], when he had no suspicion 
 of you, you might turn him round your little finger, but 
 once he found you were a cannat, he ; d outwit you if you 
 were as cute as Cahir-na-Goppal. He bought a mule one 
 day at the fair, and when he was riding it home, the eldest 
 of three brothers that were neighbours of his, met him, an* 
 axed him what he was after buying. " This brave mule, 
 to be sure," says he. " Mule inagh ! Oh, my poor Gilla, 
 don't you see it is a thorough-bred ass V\ "There's some 
 shraumogues on your eyes, my poor man," says Gilla. "Be 
 it so," says the other : " time 'ill tell." A quarter of a mile 
 further he met the second brother. " Good morrow, Gilla." 
 " Good morrow, sir." "Where are you going?" "Home 
 from the fair with this mule I bought." " Mule ! "Where 
 did you learn to give that name to a common sturJc of an 
 
THE GILLA RUA. 99 
 
 ass 1 " " All ! give us none of your impedence. It is as 
 good a mule as you'd find in Leinster." " We'll see how 
 that's to be ; good morning to you." 
 
 Off he went, and Gilla began to be troubled. " Can it be 
 that there's anything amiss with my eyes 1 Here's two 
 honest neighbours that can't have any object in deceiving. 
 If the next man I meet tells me it's an ass, be this and be 
 that I'll make him a present of it." A quarter of a mile 
 further on, who did he meet but the youngest brother 1 
 (They laid out the plan early in the fair) " Morra, Gilla." 
 " Morra kindly," " Where were you | Ji &c. &c. and the 
 questions and answers went on till the third rogue cursed 
 and swore that the mule was an ass ; " And it's an ass 
 that's on his back," says Gilla. " Take him, and be hanged 
 to him ! " 
 
 Gilla came home, and Cauth [Catherine] his housekeeper 
 asked him where was the mule he went to buy. " Tat- 
 theration to him for a mule ! he turned out to be an ass, 
 and for sharoose I bestowed him on so-and-so." "Oh, 
 niusha, masther, but you're the sorra's own gaum. Sure 
 it was nothing but a thrick laid out between the three un- 
 hanged rogues to get your baste from you." Gilla stood for 
 a while in a quanda'ry. " Wait, Cauth," says he, " I'll pay 
 'em in their own coin." 
 
 He went and bought two goats that you wouldn't know 
 
 • one from another. He tied up one in the bawn, with plenty 
 of grass before her, and threw a wallet over the other's back, 
 and led her into town next market day. He was very busy 
 going from the butcher's to the grocer's, and from the grocer's 
 to the mealman's, and putting what he bought into both 
 ends of the wallet. The three rogues saw what he was 
 about, and asked him what it was all for. " It's for a 
 dinner it is, that I'm giving to-day to a few friends, and 
 yez three will be heartily welcome along with them. I 
 owe you a kindness for taking that nasty baste off my hands." 
 l( Faith an' we'll go with a heart an' a half." " Well, while 
 Jin is carrying the rnakins 0' the dinner home, let us wet 
 
 j our whistle." "Why, will the goat go home by herself?" 
 " She will, and give my message to Cauth. Here, Jin ; tell 
 Cauth to make the dumplins as she always does, and to 
 
 7* 
 
100 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 boil a couple of heads of our best white cabbage with that 
 bacon, and to put the names of our three neighbours in the 
 pot, &c, &c, &c. There, away with you ! " He let the 
 goat loose with her head towards home, cracked his whip, 
 and off went Jin. It's not said that he ever laid eyes on 
 her again. They were just outside the town, and he took 
 the men in to give them share of a half gallon. 
 
 Well, they were so eager to see if the goat 'ud do as she 
 was desired, that they did'nt go home to put on their best 
 things, but went straight to Gilla's along with himself when 
 they took their drink. 
 
 They saw Jin, as they thought, at her dinner in the 
 bawn, and listened with all their ears cocked while Gilla 
 was questioning Cauth. " Did Jin give you my message?" 
 "Faith an she did." "What was it she said?" "Ah, sure it 
 was to boil our two best heads of white cabbage, to make 
 the dumplins as I always did, and put our three neighbours' 
 names in with the rest/' &c. " What a wonderful animal ! " 
 said one brother in a whisper to the others, and they whis- 
 pered and they cuggered. After dinner, says one of them 
 to Gilla ; " I'd like to buy that goat of yours. She'd amuse 
 our three wives and the childher." They all lived in the same 
 house. "What'll you take for her 1 " " 'Deed I don't wish 
 to part with her, she's a valuable beast, but you're good 
 neighbours, and you never lose what your neigbour gets : 
 you must have her for five an' twenty guineas." " Five 
 aud twenty dhonnasses (woes) ! say ten pounds, and well 
 be thinking of it." The end was, that they reckoned twenty 
 guineas into Gilla's hand and took the goat home. May 
 be they did'nt keep their families from getting a wink of 
 sleep that night with all the wonders they told about her. 
 
 Next morning says they to their wives, " Have a good 
 fire, and the water at the boil, but don't get anything ready. 
 We'll give you a threat to day. We'll take Jin to town, 
 put the dinner on her back, and send word by her how 
 you're to dress it." " Very well." 
 
 When the wallet was filled and the goat sent home with 
 the message, they never minded to see how she behaved, but 
 went in to take share of a quart ; but they were home at 
 one o'clock, rather muzzy with the beer they drank. When 
 
THE GILL A RTJA. IOI 
 
 they came in, they found their wives* sitting ' with their 
 hands across, the table laid out, the spit before the fire, the 
 big pot boiling, but not a sign of food in any quarter. 
 " How's this 1 Did'nt the goat bring the dinner, and give 
 you the message ? " " Goat indeed ! Musha, if you're not 
 the naturals to be made a gazabo of by that cannat of a 
 Gilla Eua ! " They looked at one another. " He's done 
 us," says they. "Let us go and beat him within an inch of 
 his life." 
 
 They went, to his house with three good saplins in their 
 hands. They heard a great scolding match outside, and 
 when they got in they saw Gilla with a face like fire, cut- 
 ting gaaches (figures) in the air with a carving knife, and 
 Cauth doubled up in a corner afraid of her life. " Eli, man, 
 don't kill the poor woman ; what did she do?" "She 
 done enough, and more than enough. She put me up to 
 play the rogue on my good neighbours with them goats ; 
 but I'll have her life, so I will." He made a dart at her, 
 and thrust the point of the knife into a white pudding full 
 of blood that she had fixed snug and sausty under her arm. 
 Out spouted the blood, down fell Cauth, and lay as stiff 
 as a stake after a kick or two. 
 
 " Oh gracious !" says Gilla, coming to himself, "what's 
 this I've done 1 took your life, my poor woman, for nothing 
 as I might say. Oh, I'll be hung as high as Gildheroy, and 
 I deserve it. Oh ! Vuya, Vuya, why was I ever born 1 But 
 what am I sayin', and didn't remember my magic fife]" He 
 run to a box, took out a fife, and began to play, " Tatther 
 Jack Walsh" on it, and Cauth was up in two shakes, and 
 dancing like mad. " This is astonishing," says the brothers. 
 They forgot to ask for their twenty guineas, and when they 
 were going home, they were ten more guineas less than when 
 they entered the house, but they had the magic fife with 
 them. 
 
 Says Gilla, when he was giving it up, " Till you're used 
 to it, I wouldn't, if I was you, kill any neighbour, or any 
 one of your family. Try your skill on a pig, or a goose, or 
 any beast you'd be after killing, and never fear but you'll 
 be astonished. Well, they thought their heels too slow till 
 they got home. A pig was killed without loss of time, and 
 
102 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OE IRELAND. 
 
 the eldest fellow 'began to blow into the fife like vengeance. 
 Ovoch ! the better he played the stiffer grew the poor car- 
 case, and they began to find they were taken in again. 
 
 They came to Gilla's house, but he wasn't to be had. But 
 they watched, and they watched, and they never rested till 
 they had him caught, tied up in a sack, and flung over one 
 of their shoulders. All their intention was to drown him, 
 and put it out of his power to play them more tricks. 
 
 They relieved one another, but they were as tired as tired 
 could be when they were passing the " Cat and Bagpipes" 
 within half a quarter of a mile of the deep pool in the river. 
 
 " How heavy the thief is !" says the one that was carry- 
 ing him. Lend a hand, and let us hang the sack on that 
 stump of a bough and get a drink." No sooner said than 
 done, and in with the fellows to refresh themselves. 
 
 Just then two men were driving by a flock of sheep, and 
 what did they hear but some one over their heads crying 
 out, "I won't have her; I won't be his son-in-law." They 
 looked up, and there was the voice coming out of the bag. 
 " What are you doing there f 1 said they, "and who is it you 
 won't marry ?" " Sure it's the king's daughter. His ser- 
 vants are drinking now within there, and when they're done 
 they'll carry me to the palace, and put me to death if I don't 
 marry the princess." " And what can we do for you V 
 " Loosen the cord, let me out, and put one of your sheep 
 inside. I live at such a place, and if you come there with 
 me I'll pay you well for the wether." The men did as they 
 were asked, and Gilla and they went on driving the flock. 
 
 They were about a mile and a half away, when they saw 
 the three brothers coming after them. " Oh murdher !" 
 says one of them to the others, " there is Gilla, as stout and 
 strong as if he wasn't at the bottom of the turn- hole. What 
 are we to do ?" They came up, and Gilla shook hands with 
 them so good naturedly. " Ah, good neighbours," said he, 
 you've just done me the greatest favour in Europe. But 
 you needn't ask me how. I'll not tell you, for it wasn't out 
 of good nature entirely you did the good deed. You see 
 that flock of sheep, these honest men is helping me to drive 
 home. I can get a larger flock any hour or any day I like/' 
 " Oh, faith, we'll take our oaths never to do an ill turn to 
 
THE GILLA RUA. IO3 
 
 you while we live." " Ah, "but you might break them." 
 " Oh 110, I'll swear by so and so, my second brother by so 
 and so, and the youngest by so and so. No one ever knew 
 us to break one of them oaths." 
 
 So they took the oaths, and he then told them that when 
 he was pitched into the water, he went down, down, till at 
 last he came to a meadow with thousands of sheep grazing 
 on it, and that a venerable shepherd gave him leave to bring 
 away all he wanted. " And here they are," said he. " Well, 
 and cant we jump in," said one fellow, " and go down to the 
 meadow 1 ?" " It would be no use," said Gilla, "you must 
 be tied in a sack and thrown in ; you may get any of your 
 friends to fasten you in sacks and pitch you in." " Oh no, 
 that \id be telling the secret and spoil our market. You 
 and these honest men come with us, and pitch us in." 
 
 So the sheep were left in a pasture, and the men went 
 back. They got sacks at a farmer's house, and Gilla and the 
 shepherds pretended to tie them up hard and fast when 
 they came to the bank. But they left the cords so that 
 they could be easily loosed, and threw them in where there 
 was hardly five feet of water. Well they could see neither 
 meadows nor sheep, and when they found the breath leaving 
 them, they struggled and opened the mouths of the sacks 
 and got out. Well, they were mad with anger and shame, 
 but they were afraid of breaking their oaths, and that Gilla 
 would play them a worse trick than any of the others. So 
 they did not molest him any more. May every rogue like 
 them fare off as bad ! 
 
 THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 
 
 The following story is in the main identical with that of Gilla na 
 ChrecJcan Gour in the former series. However, it differs considerably 
 from it in the language and some of the circumstances, besides it en- 
 ters more into detail. The Scealuidhe from whom it has been obtain- 
 ed considers it a more perfect piece of extravagance than the other, 
 but his judgment is not to be relied on, as he prefers a version heard 
 in the morn of life to one he finds in print at an advanced hour of its 
 
104 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 afternoon. The public are welcome to their own opinions on the 
 subject. 
 
 There was a poor widow living down there near the Iron 
 Forge when the country was all covered with forests, and 
 you might walk on the tops of trees from Carnew to the 
 Lady's Island, and she had one boy. She was very poor, 
 as I said before, and was not able to buy clothes for her 
 son. So when she was going out, she fixed him snug and 
 combustible (comfortable) in the ash-pit, and piled the warm 
 ashes about him. The boy knew no better, and was as 
 happy as the day was long ; and he was happier still when 
 a neighbour gave his mother a kid, to keep him company 
 while herself was abroad. < The kid and the lad played like 
 two may-boys, and when she was old enough to give milk, 
 wasn't it a god-send to the little family? You wont pre- 
 vent the boy from growing up into a young man, but not 
 a screed of clothes had he then no more than when he was 
 a gorsoon. 
 
 One day as he was sitting comfortably in his pew, he 
 heard poor Jin bleating outside so dismally. It was only 
 one step for him to the door, another to the middle of the 
 road, and another to the gap going into the wood ; and 
 there he saw a pack of deer hounds tearing the life out of 
 his poor goat. He snatched a rampike out of the gap, was 
 up with the dogs while a cat would be licking her ear, and 
 in two shakes he made smithereens of the whole bilin' of 
 them. The hunters spurred their horses to ride him down, 
 but he ran at them with the terrible club, roaring with rage 
 and grief ; and horses and men were out of sight before he 
 could wink. He then went back, crying, to the poor goat. 
 Her tongue was hanging out, and her legs quivering, and 
 after she strove to lift her head and lick his hand, she lay 
 down cold and dead. 
 
 He lifted the body, and carried it into the cabin, and 
 pullilued over it till he fell asleep out of weariness ; and 
 then a butcher, that came in with other neighbours to pity 
 him, took away the body, and dressed the skin so smooth 
 and so soft, and fastened two thongs to two of the corners. 
 When the boy's grief was a little mollified, the neighbour 
 stepped in, and fastened the nice skin round his body. It 
 
THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 105 
 
 fell to his knees, and the head skin was in front like a 
 Highlander's pocket. 
 
 He was so proud of his new dress, that he walked out 
 with his head touching the sky, and up and down the town 
 with him two or three times. " Oh dear !" says the people 
 standing at their doors, and admiring the great big boy, 
 " look at the Gilla na Chreckan Gour ;" and that name re- 
 mained on him till he went into his coffin. But pride and 
 fine dress wont make the pot boil. So his mother says to 
 him next morning, " Tom," says she, for that was his real 
 name, "you're idle long enough, so now that you are well 
 clad, and needn't be ashamed to appear before the neigh- 
 bours, take that rope, and bring in a special good bresna 
 [fagot] of rotten boughs from the forest." " Never say it 
 twice," says Gilla, and off he set into the heart of the wood. 
 He broke off and gathered up a great big fagot, and was 
 tying it when he heard a roar that was enough to split an 
 oak, and up walks a joiant a foot taller than himself, and 
 he was a foot taller than the tallest man you'd see in a fair. 
 
 " What brings you here, you vagabone?" says the giant, 
 says he, " threspassin' in my demesne, and stealin' my fire- 
 wood V " I'm doing no harm," says Gilla, " but clearing 
 your wood, if it is your wood, of rotten boughs." " I'll 
 let you see the harm you're doing," says the giant ; and, 
 with that, he made a blow at Gilla, that would have felled 
 an ox. " Is that the way you show civility to your neigh- 
 bours ?" says the other, leaping out of the way of the club: 
 " here's at you ;" and he leaped in, and caught the giant by 
 the body, and gave him such a heave that his head came 
 within an inch of the ground. But he was as strong as 
 Goliah, and worked up, and gave Gilla another heave equal 
 to the one he got himself. So they held at it, tripping, 
 squeezing, and twisting, and the hard ground became a bog 
 under their feet, and the bog became like the hard road. 
 At last Gilla gave the giant a great twist, got his right leg 
 behind his right leg, and flung him headlong again the root 
 of an oak tree. 
 
 He caught up the club from where the giant let it fall at 
 the beginning of the scrimmage, and said to him, " I am 
 going to knock out your brains ; what have you to say again 
 
106 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 it f " Oh, nothing at all ! But if you spare my life, 
 I'll give you a flute that, whenever you play on it, will set 
 your greatest enemies a dancing, and they wont have power 
 to lay their hands on you, if they were as mad as march 
 hares to kill you." "Let us have it," says Gilla, "and 
 take yourself out of that." So the giant handed him the 
 flute out of his oxter-pocket, and home went Gilla as proud 
 as a paycoch, with his fagot on his back and his flute stuck 
 in it. 
 
 In three days time he went to get another fagot ; and 
 this day he was attacked by a brother of the same giant ; 
 and whatever trouble he had with the other he had it twice 
 with this one. He levelled him at last, and only gave him 
 his life on being offered a bottle of soft green wax of a won - 
 derful nature. If a person only rubbed it on the size of a 
 crown-piece of his body, fire, nor iron, nor any sharp thing 
 could do him the least harm for a year and a day after. 
 Home went Gilla with his bottle, and never stirred out for 
 three days, for he was a little tired and bruised after his 
 wrestling. The next fagot he went to gather, he met with 
 the third brother, and if they had'nt the dreadful struggle, 
 leave it till again ! They held at it from noon till night, 
 and then the giant was forced to give in. What he gave 
 for his life was a club, that he took away once from a 
 hermit, and any one fighting with that club in a just cause 
 would never be conquered. 
 
 If Gilla staid at home three days after the last struggle, 
 he did'nt stir for a week after this. It was of a Monday 
 morning he got up, and he heard a blowing of bugles, and 
 a terrible hullabulloo in the street. Himself and his 
 mother ran to the door, and there was a fine fat man on 
 horseback, with a jockey's cap on his head, and a quilt with 
 six times the colours of the rainbow on it hanging over 
 his shoulders. u Hear all you good people," says he, after 
 another pull at his bugle horn. " The king of Dublin's 
 daughter has not laughed for three years and a half, and 
 her father promises her in marriage, and his crown after his 
 death, to whoever makes her laugh three times." " And 
 here's the boy," says Gilla, "will make her do that, or 
 know the reason why." 
 
THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 107 
 
 If one was to count all the threads in a coat, it wonld 
 never come into the tailor's hands, and if I was to reckon 
 all that Gilla' s mother and her neighbours said to him before 
 he set out, and all the steps he took after he set out, I'd 
 never have him as far as the gates of Dublin; but to Dub- 
 lin he got at last, as sure as fate. They were going to stop 
 him at the gates, but he gave a curl of his club round his 
 shoulder, and said he was coming to make the princess laugh. 
 So they laughed, and let him pass ; and maybe the doors 
 and windows were not crowded with women and children 
 gazing after the good-natured-looking young giant, with his 
 long black hair falling on his shoulders, and his goat-skin 
 skirt hanging from his waist to his knee . There was a great 
 crowd in the palace yard when he reached there, and ever 
 so many of them playing all sorts of tricks to get a laugh 
 from the princess ; but not a smile, even, could be got from 
 her. " What is your business ? " said the king, " and where 
 do you come from ? " "I come, my liege," said Gilla, 
 from the country of the " Yellow Bellies," and my business 
 is to make the princess, God bless her ! give three hearty 
 laughs." " God enable you ! " said the king. But an ugly, 
 cantankerous fellow near the king, with a white face and 
 red hair on him, put in his spoon, and says he to Gilla, 
 " My fine fellow, before any one is allowed to strive for the 
 princess, he is expected to show himself a man at all sorts 
 of matches with the champions of the court." "Nothing 
 will give me greater pleasure," says Gilla. So he laid down 
 his club, and spit in his fists, and a brave sturdy Gallo- 
 glach came up, and took him by the shoulder and elbow. 
 If he did, he did'nt keep his hold long : Gilla levelled him 
 while you'd wink, and then came another and another, till 
 two score were pitched on their heads. 
 
 Well, no one gripped him the second time ; but at last 
 all were so mad that they stopped rubbing their heads, and 
 hips, and shoulders, and made at Gilla in a body. The 
 princess was looking very much pleased at Gilla all the 
 time, but now she cried out to her father to stop the attack. 
 The white-faced fellow said something in the king's ear, 
 and not a budge did he make. But Gilla did not let him- 
 self be flurried. He took up his Jcippeen } and gave this 
 
108 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 fellow a tap on his left ear, and that fellow a tap on his 
 right ear, and the other a crack on the ridge pole of his 
 head ; and maybe it was'nt a purty spectacle to see every 
 soul of two score of them tumbling over an helher, their 
 heads in the dust, and their heels in the air, and they 
 roaring "Murdher" at the ling of their life. But the best 
 of it was that the princess, when she saw the confusion, 
 gave a laugh like the ring of silver on a stone, so sweet 
 and so loud, that all in the court heard it ; and Gilla struck 
 his club butt-end on the ground, and says he, " King of 
 Dublin, I have won half of your daughter." 
 
 The face of Eed-head turned from white to yellow, but 
 no one minded him, and the king invited Gilla to dine 
 with himself and the princess and all the royal family. So 
 that day passed, and while they were at breakfast next 
 morning, Eed-head reminded the king that he had nothing 
 to do now but to send the new champion to kill the wild 
 beast, that was murdering every one that attempted to go 
 a hen's race beyond the city walls. The king did not say 
 a word one way or the other, but the princess said it was 
 not right nor kind to send a stranger out to his certain 
 death, for no one ever escaped the wild beast, if it could 
 get near them. "Til make the trial," says Gilla. "I'd face 
 twenty wild beasts to do any service to yourself or your 
 subjects." 
 
 So he inquired where the beast was to be found, and 
 White-face was only too ready to give him his directions. 
 The princess was sorrowful enough, when she saw him set- 
 ting out, but go he must and would. After he was gone a 
 mile beyond the gates, he heard a terrible roar in the wood 
 and a great cracking of boughs, and out pounced a terrible 
 beast on him, with great long claws, and a big mouth open 
 to swallow him, club and all. 
 
 When he was at the very last spring, Gilla gave him 
 a stroke on the nose ; and crack ! he was sprawling on his 
 back in two seconds. Well, that did not daunt him : he 
 was up, and springing again at Gilla, and this time the 
 blow came on him between the two eyes. Down and up 
 he was again and again, till his right ear, his left ear, his 
 right shoulder, and left shoulder were black and blue. 
 
THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. IO9 
 
 Then he sat on his hind quarters, and looked very surprised 
 at Gilla and his club. " Now, my tight fellow," says Gilla, 
 " follow your nose to Dublin gates. Do no harm to any 
 one, and I'll do no harm to you." " Waw ! waw ! waw ! " 
 says the beast, with his long teeth all stripped, and sparks 
 flashing from his eyes ; but when he saw the club coming 
 down on him, he put his tail between his legs, and walked 
 on. Now and then he'd turn about, and give a growl, but 
 a flourish of the club would soon set him on the straight 
 road again. Oh! if there wasn't racing and tearing into 
 houses and bawns, as they passed through the streets, and 
 roaring and bawling ; but Gilla nor the beast ever drew rein 
 till they came to the palace yard. 
 
 Well, if the people in the streets were frightened, the 
 people in the court were terrified. The king and his 
 daughter were in a balcony or something that way, and so 
 were out of danger; but lord, and gentleman, and officer, 
 and soldier, as soon as they laid eye on the beast, began to 
 run into passages and halls ; but* those that got in first 
 shut the doors in their fright ; and they that were kept out, 
 did not know what to do ; and the king cried out to Gilla 
 to take away the frightful thing. Gilla at once took his 
 flute out of his goat- skin pocket, and began to play, and 
 everyone in the court, — beast and body — began to dance. 
 There was the unfortunate beast obliged to stand on his 
 hind legs, and play heel and toe, while he shovelled about 
 after those that were next him, and he growling fearfully 
 all the time. The people striving to«Keep out of his way 
 were still obliged to mind their steps, but that didn't pre- 
 vent them from roaring out to Gilla to free them from their 
 tormentor. The beast kept a steady eye on Ked-head, and 
 was always sliding after him as well as the figures of the 
 dance would let him; and you maybe sure the poor fellow's 
 teeth were not strong enough to keep his tongue quiet. 
 "Well, it was all a fearful thing to look at, but it was very 
 comical too ; and as soon as the princess saw that Gilla's 
 power over the beast was strong enough to prevent him 
 from doing any hurt, and especially when she heard the 
 roars of Ked-head, and looked at his dancing, she burst out 
 laughing the second time. 
 
1 10 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 " Now, King of Dublin," said Gilla. " I have won two 
 halves of the princess, and I hope it wont he long till the 
 third half will fall to me." " Oh ! for goodness* sake," said 
 the king, " never mind halves or quarters : banish this vaga- 
 bone beast to Bandon, or Halifax, or Lusk, or the Eed Say, 
 and we'll see what is to come next." Gilla took his flute 
 out of his mouth, and the dancing stopped like shot. The 
 poor beast was thrown off his balance, and fell on his side, 
 and a good many of the dancers had a tumble at the same 
 moment. Then said Gilla to the beast, " You see that street 
 leading straight to the mountain. Down that street with 
 you ; don't let a hare catch you ; and if you fall, don't wait 
 to get up ; and if I ever hear of you coming within a mile 
 of castle or cabin within the four seas of Ireland, I'll make 
 an example of you ; remember the club." He had no need 
 to give his orders twice. Before he was done speaking the 
 beast was half way down the street like a frightened dog 
 with a kettle tied to his tail. He was once after seen in 
 the Devil's Glen in Wicklow, picking a bone, and that's all 
 was ever heard of him. 
 
 Well, that was work enough for one day, and the potatoes 
 were just done in the big kitchen of the palace. I don't 
 know what great people take instead of stirabout and milk 
 before they go to bed. Indeed people do be saying that 
 some of them never leave the table from dinner to bed- time, 
 but I don't believe it. Anyhow they took dinner and sup- 
 per, and went to bed, everything in its own time, and rose 
 in the morning when the sun was as high as the trees. 
 
 So when they were at breakfast, Eed -head, who wasn't 
 at all agreeable to the match, says to the King in Gilla' s 
 hearing : " The Danes, ill luck be in their road ! will be near 
 the city in a day or two ; and it is said in an old prophecy 
 book, that if you could get the flail that's hanging on the 
 couple under the ridge pole of Hell you could drive every 
 enemy you have into the sea, — Dane or divel. I'm sure, 
 sir, Gilla wouldn't have much trouble in getting that flail: 
 nothing seems too hot or too heavy for him." " If he goes," 
 said the princess, " it is against my wish and will." " If he 
 goes," said the King, " it is not by my order." " Go I 
 will," said Gilla, "if any one shows me the way." There 
 
THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 1 1 I 
 
 was an old gentleman with a red nose on him sitting at the 
 tahle, and says he, " Oh ! Ill shew you the way : it lies down 
 Cut Purse Eow. You will know it by the sign of the 
 " Cat and Bagpipes " on one side, and the " Ace of Spades " 
 stuck in the window opposite." "I'm off," says Gilla : "pray 
 all of you for my safe return." He easily found the " Cat 
 and Bag-pipes," and the "Ace of Spades," and nothing 
 further is said of him till he was knocking at Hell's Gate. 
 It was opened by an old fellow with horns on him 
 seven feet loug, and says he to Gilla, mighty politely, 
 " What is it you want here, sir ¥' " I am a great tra- 
 veller," said Gilla, " and wish to see every place worth 
 seeing, inside and outside." "Oh! if that's the case," says 
 the porter, " walk in. Here, brothers, show this gentle- 
 man-traveller all the curosities of the place." "With that 
 they all, big and little, locked and bolted every window and 
 door, and stuffed every hole, till a midge itself couldn't find 
 its way out ; and then they surrounded Gilla with their spits, 
 and pitch-forks, and sprongs ; and if they didn't whack and 
 prod him it's a wonder. " Gentlemen," says Gilla, " these 
 are the tricks of clowns. Fair play is bonny play : show 
 yourselves gentlemen if you have a good drop at all in you. 
 Hand me a weapon, and let us fight fair. There's an old 
 flail on that couple, it will do as well as another." " Oh, 
 yes ! the flail ! the flail !" cried them all ; and some little 
 imps climbed up the rafters, pulled down the flail, and 
 handed it to Gilla, expecting to see his hands- burned 
 through the moment it touched them.* They knew no- 
 thing of the giant's balsam that Gilla rubbed on his hands 
 as he was coming along, but they soon knew and felt the 
 strength of his arm when he was knocking them down like 
 nine-pins, and thrashing them, arms, legs, and bodies, like 
 so much oaten straw. " Oh ! murdher ! murdher ! " says 
 the big devil of all, at last. " Stop your hand, and we'll 
 give you anything in our power." "Well," says Gilla, 
 " F ve seen all I want in your habitation. I don't like the 
 welcome I've got, and will thank you to open the gate." 
 Oh ! wasn't there twenty pair of legs tearing in a moment 
 to let Gilla out. " You don't mean, I hope, to carry off 
 the flail," says the big fellow ; " it's very useful to us in 
 
112 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 winter." " Tt was the very thing that brought me here," 
 says Gilla, " to get it, and I won't leave without it ; but if 
 you look in the black pool of the Liffey at noon to-morrow, 
 you'll find it there/' Well, they were very down in the 
 mouth for the loss of the flail, but a second rib-roasting 
 wasn't to be thought of. When they had him fairly lock- 
 ed out, they put out their tongues at him through the bars, 
 and shouted, "Ah! Gilla na Chreckan Gour ! wait till you're 
 let in here so easy again ;" but he only answered, " You'll 
 let me in when I ask you." 
 
 There was both joy and terror at court when they saw 
 Gilla coming back with the terrible flail in his hand. 
 " Now,'' says every one, " we care little for the Danes and 
 all their kith and kin. But how did you coax the fellows 
 down below to give up the implement V So he told them 
 as much as he chose, and was very glad to see the welcome 
 that was on the princess's face. Red-head thought it 
 would be a fine thing to have the flail in his power. So he 
 crept over to where Gilla laid it aside after charging no one 
 to touch it ; but his hand did not come within a foot of it, 
 when he thought it was burned to the bone. He danced 
 about, shook his arm, put his fist to his mouth, and roared 
 out for water. " Couldn't you mind what I said ']" says 
 Gilla, " and that wouldn't have happened," However he 
 took Bed- head's hand within his own two that had the 
 ointment, and he was freed from the burning at once. Well, 
 the poof rogue looked so relieved, and so ashamed, and so 
 impudent at the same time, that the princess joined in the 
 laughing of all about. " Three halves at last/' said Gilla. 
 " Now, my liege," said he, " I hope that after I give a good 
 throuncing to the Danes, you will fulfil your promise." 
 " There are no two ways about that," said the king. tl Danes 
 or no Danes, you may marry my daughter to-morrow, if she 
 makes no objection herself." Red-head, seeing by the prin- 
 cess's face that she wasn't a bit vexed at what her father 
 said, ran up to his room, thrust his head into a cupboard, 
 and nearly roared his arm off, but the company down stairs 
 did not seem to miss him. 
 
 Early in the forenoon of next day a soldier came run- 
 ning in all haste from the bridge that crossed the Liffey, 
 
THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. I T3 
 
 and said the Danes were coming in thousands from the 
 north, all in brass armour, brass pots on their heads, and 
 brass pot-lids on their arms, and that the yellow blaze com- 
 ing from their ranks was enough to blind a body. Out- 
 marched the king's troops with the king at their head, to 
 hinder the Danes from getting into the town over the 
 bridge. First went Gilla with his flail in one hand, and 
 his club in the other. He crossed the bridge, and when 
 the enemy were about ten perch away from him, he shout- 
 ed out, " This flail belongs to the devil, and who has a bet- 
 ter right to it than his children V' So saying, he swung it 
 round his head, and flung it with all his power at the front 
 rank. It mowed down every man it met in its course, and 
 when it cut through the whole column, and the space was 
 clear before it, it sunk down, and flame and smoke flew up 
 from the breach it made in the ground. The soldiers at 
 each side of the lane of dead men ran forward on Gilla, .but 
 as every one came within the sweep of his club, he was 
 dashed down on the bridge or into the river. On they rush- 
 ed like a snow storm, but they melted like the same snow 
 falling into a furnace. Gilla kept before the pile of the 
 dead soldiers, but at last his arms began to tire. Then the 
 king and his men came over, and the rest of the Danes 
 were frightened and fled. 
 
 Often was Gilla tired in his past life, but that was the 
 greatest and tiresomest exploit he ever done. He lay on a 
 settle bed for three days ; but if he did, hadn't he the prin- 
 cess and all her maids of honour to wait on him, and pity 
 him, and give him gruel, and toast, and tay of all the co- 
 lours under the sun. 
 
 Eedhead did his best to stop the marriage, but once 
 when he was speaking to the king, one of the body guards 
 swore he'd open his skull with his battle-axe if ever he 
 dared open his mouth again about it. So married they 
 were, and as strong as Gilla was, if ever his princess and 
 himself had a scrutiny [dispute], I know who got the upper 
 hand. 
 
114 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS. 
 
 There was once a very worthy king, whose daughter 
 was the greatest beauty that could be seen far or near, but 
 she was as proud as Lucifer, and no king or prince would 
 she agree to marry. J3er father was tired out at last, and 
 invited every king, and prince, and duke, and earl that he 
 knew or didn't know to come to his court to give her one 
 trial more. They all came, and next day after breakfast, 
 they stood in a row in the lawn, and the princess walked 
 along in the front of them to make her choice. One was 
 fat, and says she, " I won't have you, Beer-barrel !" One 
 was tall and thin, and to him she said, " I won't have you, 
 Eamrod !" To a white-faced man she said, "I won't have 
 you, Pale Death;" and to a red-cheeked man she said, "I 
 won't have you, Cockscomb !" She stopped a little before 
 the last of all, for he was a fine man in face and form. She 
 wanted to find some defect in him, but he had nothing re- 
 markable but a ring of brown curling hair under his chin. 
 She admired him a little, and then carried it off with, " I 
 won't have you, Whiskers !" 
 
 So all went away, and the kiug was so vexed, he said to 
 her, " Now, to punish your impedence, I'll give you to the 
 first beggarman or singing sthronshuch that calls," and, as 
 sure as the hearth-money, a fellow all over rags, and hair 
 that came to his shoulders, and a bushy red beard all over 
 his face, came next morning, and began to sing before the 
 parlour window. 
 
 When the song was over, the hall-door was opened, the 
 singer asked in, the priest brought, and the princess mar- 
 ried to Beardy. She roared and she bawled, but her father 
 didn't mind her. " There," says he to the bridegroom, "is 
 five guineas for you. Take your wife out of my sight, and 
 never let me lay eyes on you or her again." 
 
 Off he led her, and dismal enough she was. The only 
 thing that gave her relief was the tones of her husband's 
 voice and his genteel manners. " Whose wood is this j?j 
 said she, as they were going through one. " It belongs to 
 the king you called Whiskers yesterday." He gave her the 
 
THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS. I J j 
 
 same answer about meadows and corn fields, and at last a 
 fine city. " Ah, what a fool I was !" said she to herself. 
 " He was a fine man, and I might have him for a husband." 
 At last they were coming up to a poor cabin, " Why are 
 you bringing *ne here f says the poor lady. " This was 
 my house/' said he, " and now it's yours." She began to 
 cry, but she was tired and hungry, and she went in with 
 him. 
 
 Ovoch ! there was neither a table laid out, nor a fire 
 burning, and she was obliged to help her husband to light 
 it, and boil their dinner, and clean up the place after ; and 
 next day he made her put on a stuff gown and a cotton 
 handkerchief. When she had her house readied up, and 
 no business to keep her employed, he brought home sallies 
 [willows], peeled them, and showed her how to make bas- 
 kets. But the hard twigs bruised her delicate fingers, and 
 she began to cry. Well, then he asked her to mend their 
 clothes, but the needle drew blood from her fingers, and 
 she cried again. He couldn't bear to see her tears, so he 
 bought a creel of earthenware, and sent her to the market 
 to sell them. This was the hardest trial of all, but she 
 looked so handsome and sorrow T ful, and had such a nice 
 air about her, that all her pans, and jugs, and plates, and 
 dishes were gone before noon, and the only mark of her old 
 pride she showed was a slap she gave a buckeen across the 
 face when he axed her to go in an' take share of a quart. 
 
 Well, her husband was so glad, he sent her with 'another 
 creel the next day, but faith, her luck was after deserting 
 her. A drunken huntsman came up riding, and his beast 
 got in among her ware, and made briske of every mother's 
 son of 'em. She w r ent home cryirj', and her husband wasn't 
 at all pleased. " I see," said he, "you're not fit for busi- 
 ness. Come along, I'll get you a kitchen-maid's place in 
 the palace. I know the cook." 
 
 So the poor thing was obliged to stifle her pride once 
 more. She was kept very busy, and the footman and the 
 butler w r ould be very impudent about looking for a kiss, 
 but she let a screech out of her the first attempt was made, 
 and the cook gave the fellow such a lambasting with the 
 besom that he made no second offer. She went home to 
 
I 1 6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 her husband every night, and she carried broken "victuals 
 wrapped in papers in her side pockets. 
 
 A week after she got service there was great bustle in 
 the kitchen. The king was going to be married, but no 
 one knew who the bride was to be. Well, in the evening 
 the cook filled the princess's pockets with cold meat and 
 puddings, and says she, " Before you go, let us have a look 
 at the great doings in the big parlour/' So they came near 
 the door to get a peep, and who should come out but the 
 king himself, as handsome as you please, and no other but 
 King Whiskers himself. " Your handsome helper must 
 pay for her peeping," says he to the cook, " and dance a 
 jig with me." Whether she would or no, he held her hand 
 and brought her into the parlour. The fiddlers struck up, 
 and away went him and her. But they hadn't danced two 
 steps when the meat and the puddens flew out of her pockets. 
 Every one roared out, and she flew to the door, crying 
 piteously. But she was soon caught by the king, and taken 
 into the back parlour. " Don't you know me, my darling %" 
 said he. " I'm both King Whiskers, your husband 'the 
 ballad singer, and the drunken huntsman. Your father 
 knew me well enough when he gave you to me, and all was 
 to drive your pride out of you." Well, she didn't know 
 how she was with fright, and shame, and joy. Love was 
 uppermost anyhow, for she laid her head on her husband's 
 breast and cried like a child. The maids of honour soon had 
 her away and dressed her as fine as hands and pins could 
 do it ; and there were her mother and father, too ; and while 
 the company were wandering what end of the handsome 
 girl and the king, he and his queen, who they didn't know 
 in her fine clothes, and the other king and queen came 
 in, and such rejoicings and fine doings as there was, none 
 of us will ever see, any way. 
 
 DOCTOR CURE-ALL. 
 
 There was once a poor fagot-cutter that used to work 
 very hard, and one day that he took a load of fagots ^to 
 
DOCTOR CURE-ALL. I I 7 
 
 the doctor in the next town, he was brought into the par- 
 lour to be paid, and didn't he admire the fine furniture he 
 saw about him ! When he was coming away, says he to 
 the doctor, " Musha, sir, would you lend me one of these 
 fine-bound books for about a quarter of a year or so, and 
 I'll return it honestly P " What is the book to be about f ' 
 says the doctor, "and what do you want with it?' "I 
 don't care what it's about," says he, " and I'll tell you when 
 I return it the use I'll make of it." The doctor laughed, 
 and gave him a well-looking wolume, but I don't know no 
 more nor the fagot-cutter himself what was in it. 
 
 " A fine thing," says he, " to be slavin' oneself as I do 
 for my bit and sup, and see what grandeur that man is in 
 for doing nothing at all, as a body might say." When he 
 got home, he removed bag and baggage into the town after 
 selling his little furniture, and buying a shute of broad- 
 cloth, and a Caroline hat, and a Barcelona hanlcecher. He 
 got a painter to put up a sign-board with Doctor Cure-all 
 over his door, put some bottles on a shelf, and sat down at 
 his little round table with his book before him. Well, he 
 soon got custom, but all the cures he knew was bowl alma- 
 nac [Bole-Armeniac], salts and senna, castor oil, and sugar 
 and soap for plasters. But he was so courageous in pro- 
 mising cures, and so many got well, no thanks to him, and 
 there w r as so many that there was nothing amiss with at all, 
 that he soon got a great name. He even recovered stolen 
 things, for he gave out that he knew by his books who 
 had them, and the thieves used to bring them unknownst 
 to him, and give him some money for not telling on them. 
 
 Well, there was a gentleman in the neighbourhood that 
 had a very valuable ring taken from him, and he sent for 
 Dr. Cure-all to find out the thief for him. " I'll find him 
 out," says he, "if he's above ground, but it can't be done 
 in a minute. I'll have to see where you kept it, and get a 
 lock of hair from every one in the house, and study my 
 conjurin' book for eight days. The ninth morning you'll 
 have the ring safe and sound. I'll have to stay on the pre- 
 mises the whole time." " Very good," says the gentleman. 
 
 Well, he lived like a fighting cock for five days, but I 
 give you my word he began then to get uneasy, for no one 
 
I 1 8 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 about the house seemed inclined to confess, though he gave 
 out from the beginning that he'd have his hand on the 
 thief the evening of the eighth day. The evening of the 
 sixth he was walking in the paddock near the hedge, and 
 he was muttering to himself, " Three days only now, and 
 be this and be that there goes one of 'em ! " says he in an 
 angry voice. Well, there was three rogues of servants con- 
 cerned in the robbery, and one of them was padrotvliri 
 [patrolling] in the cabbage-garden the other side of the hedge 
 the same minute. He never drew rein till he got to the 
 other fellows, and says he," We're discovered as sure as fate." 
 
 Well, they talked and they talked, and didn't know what 
 to do till next evening, when the second of 'em was close 
 by the hedge, and what did he hear but the doctor cry out, 
 " And there goes the second of 'em ! " Well, they were 
 more frightened now than before, and came to the point of 
 confessing if the doctor knew there was three of 'em. The 
 next evening the poor man was walking sorrowful enough 
 in the same place. "Ovoch !" was he saying to himself, 
 u there was only three evenings of the time left since I took 
 my walk here to give the thief an opportunity of talking to 
 me," and then his heart was so bitter he cried out, " Here 
 is the third of 'em !" " Docthor, docthor," says a voice the 
 other side of the hedge, " you're a considherate man ; here's 
 the ring and a guinea-note along with it : keep our secret." 
 " You don't deserve it, you unlucky rogue, for delaying so 
 long. The master 'ud have you in the stone-jug [gaol] to- 
 morrow only for your late rejDentance." 
 
 Well, the whole family were assembled in the big par- 
 lour next morning, and the doctor sitting very stately in an 
 arm-chair. " Who is the robber V says the master. " I 
 know the robber, and the place he hid the ring," says the 
 doctor, " but I can only reveal one ; which is it to be V 
 The master, of course, chose to get his valuable ring. "Well, 
 then," says he,"go to the hen-house wherever that is; I don't 
 know. Put your right hand on the little board that's inside 
 over the door, and in the middle of it you'll find what you're 
 in search of." Out went the mistress and the little girl that 
 minded the fowl, and there the ring was sure enough. 
 
 Well, there was great joy, you may depend, and very 
 
DOCTOR CURE-ALL. 119 
 
 great honour was paid to the wise man, but the master s 
 brother that came that day on a visit, wouldn't give the 
 doctor any credit at all. " Wait till dinner time," says 
 he " and if I don't astonish his weak mind, you may say 
 what you like." Well, the brother and his servant were 
 cooking something very secretly in the kitchen before 
 dinner time, and when that was over, and the doctor's 
 health was drunk, and himself greatly praised, says the 
 brother, " Doctor, I'll praise you more than all the family 
 if you tell me what's in this covered plate." Ah, wouldn't 
 anyone pity the poor man at that moment ? "No use," says 
 he to himself, " in throwing sand in people's eyes any 
 longer." Then speaking out loud, says he, " Ah, sir, let 
 the fox go as far as he pleases, he'll be cotch [caught] at 
 last." " Well," says the gentleman, " I see I must give it 
 up. It's a bit of a fox sure enough !" He lifted the cover 
 for an instant, and then threw plate and cover and fox out 
 of the window. And that's the way with the world. Im- 
 pedence will bring a man through an auger hole, where an 
 honest man cant get through an open gate. 
 
 THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM. 
 
 There was once a townland called Gotham, but maybe 
 it's now swallowed up and covered with sand like Bannow, 
 or maybe a moving bog went over it, for I never heard any 
 one say he knew where it was. Well, four brothers lived 
 in it, and they were called the wise men of Gotham, and 
 you might as well call Pat Neil [see " The Banks of the 
 Boro"] a wise man, I'm sure. One of them took a big 
 cheese to town to sell it one market day. He was on horse- 
 back, and just as he came to the brow of a steep hill just 
 outside the town, the cheese dropped and began to roll 
 down the slope like vengeance. " Oh, ho !" says he, "is 
 that the way 1 I'll take this other road into town, and I'll 
 engage I'll get there before you." So he put spurs to his 
 horse, and he was soon in the nighest street that was just 
 at the bottom of the hill. Neither the cheese nor the 
 
120 THE FTRESIDE STORIES OP IRELAND. 
 
 ghost of the cheese was there. He rode up the hill, and 
 looked in the dykes for his cheese, hut, 'deed, he returned 
 home hungry and dry, and he had neither the cheese nor 
 the value of it. 
 
 Well, they were "blaming him, sure enough, till he began 
 to think he hadn't done a very wise thing after all. "And 
 what would you do if you were in my place V ' said he co 
 one of his brothers. " Well, I think I'd go and buy another 
 cheese the same size and roll it down, and ride after it and 
 see where it would go/' " That's not a bad thought/' says 
 another, " but if it happened to me I think I'd sit at the 
 market-cross till I'd hear the bell-man crying out where it 
 was to be got, for it's very likely some honest person found 
 it." " But," says the last, " I think I'd pay Browzy [the 
 once bellman of Enniscorthy] a thirteen to cry it, and offer 
 half of it for reward. For didn't yez all often hear, " Half 
 a loaf is better than no bread V* 
 
 Next market day another of the brothers went to sell 
 another cheese, and he determined he'd be very cunning if 
 any mischance happened him. Well, just at the very same 
 place he dropped his cheese too. It didn't roll, for it came 
 down in a car- track. This second wise man pulled out his 
 sword, and made a prod at it to lift it up, but it was too 
 short, and if it was long enough itself, it was too blunt at 
 the end. So he rode into the town, and bought a long 
 sword with a sharp point at the cutler's, and rode back 
 again. 
 
 His cheese wasn't there, nor half way down the hill, nor 
 at the bottom of the hill. He recollected what was said at 
 home, and sat at the market cross till sunset to see if the 
 honest finder would cry it. Then he paid his thirteen to 
 the bellman, offering half the cheese to the finder for re- 
 ward. But the poor man had the dark night round him 
 coming home, and no great welcome when he got there, for 
 he had neither the cheese nor its value no more than his 
 brother. 
 
 The four brothers cared for no one's company but their 
 own, and they all lived together. But a neighbour w T ho 
 had a few marriageable daughters said so much about what 
 a shame it was for none of them to have a wife, that a 
 
THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM. 12 i 
 
 match was made up between the eldest and the neighbour's 
 eldest daughter, and a new house was built for the couple at 
 the end of the big bawn. The evening before the wedding, 
 says the bridegroom, "I'm rather afeard of this change. 
 I've heard of women tyrannizing over their husbands, and 
 beating them within an inch of their lives, and if she took 
 a fancy to throunce me in the night, you wouldn't hear me 
 from the new house." That speech frightened the whole 
 family. " Ah !" says the second eldest, " let it be put in 
 the marriage articles that there shan't be a stick kept in 
 the house thicker than your little finger. She can't kill 
 you with that, anyway." Well, that gave them all great 
 comfort, till a gomula of a servant-boy put in his word. 
 " Oh, faith, if she's inclined for battle it's not the little 
 kippeen she'll take to, while she has the tongs at hand." 
 All were thrown into a quandary again, but the boy soon 
 gave them relief. " I'll tell you what we'll do. When the 
 new mistress, God bless her, goes to whack the young mas- 
 ter, let him bawl out like a man. The boy 'ill hear him 
 from the stable loft, he'll bawl out, ancf the thresher will 
 hear him from his shass [heap of sheaves] in the barn. I'll 
 hear the thresher from the settle-bed in the kitchen. The 
 old mistress '11 hear me, and all the house '11 hear her." 
 They all clapped their hands for joy, and the marriage 
 didn't frighten anyone. The stable boy, and the thresher, 
 and the boy in the settle said they didn't close an eye for a 
 whole week after the marriage, for fear of an attack on the 
 master. I don't believe them. No one staid awake after 
 that, and the bridegroom might be killed for anything they 
 done to hinder it. 
 
 At last all were married to the other sisters, but the 
 dickens afoot farther than the four corners of the big bawn 
 they'd separate from one another. 
 
 They were all conversing one day in the bawn, and one 
 of them made a remark that put them all into a great fright. 
 " Aren't there four brothers of us altogether V says he. 
 " To be sure," says one, and " To be sure," says another. 
 " Well," says he, " I'm after counting, and I can't make 
 out one more than three." " And neither can I," says one, 
 and "Neither can I," says another, and "Neither can I," 
 
122 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OP IRELAND. 
 
 says the last. " Some one must be dead or gone away." 
 Well, they were all in a fright, I can tell you, for a while. 
 At last says the one that spoke first, " Let every one go and 
 sit on the ridge of his house, and I'll soon see who is miss- 
 ing." Well, they done so, and then the poor fellow that 
 staid to count, after looking all round, cried out, " Oh, 
 murdher, nxurdher ! there's no one on my own house. It's 
 myself that's missing/' That's all I ever heard of the Wise 
 Men of Gotham, and I'm sure it's no great loss. 
 
 THE GOOD BOY AND THE BOY THAT ENVIED HIM. 
 
 There was once a lord and lady, and they had two ser- 
 vant boys. One was a fine innocent young fellow that 
 everybody was fond of ; the other was an envious ounkrawn, 
 that begrudged all the people about him the very air they 
 breathed. The lady was very kind to the good young boy, 
 because he was so well disposed, and because her little son 
 and daughter were so fond of him. The bad boy was al- 
 ways striving to buz into the lord's head some mistrust of 
 his comrade ; and at last, as they were coming home from 
 hunting, a devilish grin came on his face as he pointed to 
 where the lady was standing in the garden, and the page 
 holding her hand in his own two, and his mouth down on 
 it. Well, the lord was astonished you may be sure, and his 
 face became like a coal. He said nothing, but walked up 
 to his room without speaking to any one. 
 
 There was a foundry on his estate, and there he rode in 
 the cool of the evening. He went into the room where the 
 great furnace was, and said he to the two men that were 
 minding it, " If any one comes to you to-morrow morning 
 and asks you from me if the job I gave you is done, take 
 him and pitch him into the red fire before you." " Oil 
 Lord, sir, what has he done ¥' "If he wasn't worthy of 
 death I wouldn't be here to give this order." " Oh, your 
 lordship, it shall be done." 
 
 Next morning says he to the young boy, " Go down to 
 the foundry, and ask the two men that are minding the 
 
THE GOOD BOY AND THE BOY THAT ENVIED HIM. 1 23 
 
 fire if the job I bade them do is finished." The page 
 wished for nothing better. The sun was shining, and he'd 
 have a delightful walk through the meadows and the w T ood. 
 So he went on, the birds singing in the trees, and he sing- 
 ing along with them out of innocence and a light heart. 
 The meadows brought him to the wood, and he had to go 
 more than two miles across it to come out on the road the 
 other side, and there was the foundry. After he was half 
 a mile into it, he bethought him of an advice his mother 
 gave him when he was leaving home, and that was, never 
 to take a short cut while he had the high road to travel by. 
 
 Back he turned to where a cross path led out to the road 
 on his left. About the time he got out on the road, his 
 wicked comrade was entering the wood by the same way 
 himself was taking at first. He kept walking along pretty 
 smart, but not so smart as to overtake the good boy if he 
 hadn't turned back. 
 
 While the good boy was going along without hurrying 
 himself, he came up to a little chapel by the roadside, and 
 he did not pass it without going in to say some prayers. 
 For that was another parting advice his mother gave him, 
 never to pass by a chapel that was open without going in 
 and performing some devotion. Mass was just beginning, 
 and he thought for the short time it would hold it wasn't 
 worth his while to go out. So he joined piously with the 
 priest, and when it was over he stepped out rather quick to 
 make up for the delay. When he came to the furnace he 
 asked the men if the job their lord gave them was done. 
 " Oh, faith it is so," said the wickedest -looking of the two, 
 and he put the devil's own grin on him, and pointed to the 
 furnace. Though he didn't understand him, he didn't like 
 his looks nor his tones ; so he turned round, and set off as 
 smart as he could home. 
 
 The lord was sitting in his hall, rather troubled in mind, 
 and there he had been from soon after the young boy left 
 the house. He began to be afraid that he'd been too hasty. 
 It might be all innocent enough, he thought ; my wife 
 might be after doing something for himself or his mother, 
 and that's the way he was showing his gratitude. I was 
 
I 24 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 very wrong. There is no more tlian suspicion after all. He 
 called the first servant that was passing. " Go and tell 80- 
 
 and-so [naming the wicked boy]" " Sir, I saw him . 
 
 going the same way that the widow's son took after you 
 gave him some directions." " How long after V' " About 
 half an hour." Just at the moment in came the lady of 
 the house, and she made a sign to the servant to go out. 
 
 She then held her hand that had a scar on it over to her 
 husband, and said with such a pious and grateful air on her 
 features, " Oh, my dear husband, how happy I am, and 
 how glad you'll be to hear of the escape I had yesterday ! 
 While myself, and the children, and the widow's son were 
 walking in the garden, I was pulling a flower, and a snake 
 darted on my hand and bit it. Oh, so frightened as I was ! 
 But the poor boy ran and caught it, and sucked away at 
 the wound, spitting out every now and then. The doctor 
 was luckily in the castle, and the moment I could get my 
 hand from the poor boy's mouth, and get to my room, I had 
 him brought. Well, he said nothing could be better than 
 what the poor child did ; but, to make sure, he put some 
 caustic to it. He said he couldn't be sure whether there 
 would be any danger till to-day. I did not tell you all 
 along for fear of afflicting you ; but the doctor saw it just 
 now, and said there was no danger whatever. Oh, aren't 
 you glad V 9 
 
 I nor no one could describe the torment the lord endu- 
 red while his wife was speaking. His face was frightful to 
 see. When his lady stopped he sprung up like a madman 
 and was rushing out, when the door opened and there was 
 the boy he thought burned to a cinder, full of life and 
 sprightliness, before him, and his face so rosy after his walk. 
 Only there was a chair at hand he'd have fallen on the 
 floor. There he sat without saying a word or raising his 
 eyes for a quarter of an hour, feeling a deadly sickness in- 
 side, and as if his brain was going to burst. His lady and 
 the page were terribly frightened ; but he made signs to 
 them to be quiet, and at last came to himself. 
 
 When he was able to question the young boy, and heard 
 all he could tell, and saw no sign of the envious creature 
 
THE GOOD BOY AND THE BOY THAT ENVIED HJM. I 2 5 
 
 making his appearance, he guessed how it came about, and 
 saw the hand of God in the rescue of the innocent and the 
 punishment of the guilty. 
 
 He was up to this time a passionate and selfish sort of 
 man, fond of worldly pleasures of all kinds ; but a great 
 reformation took place in him from that day. He acknow- 
 ledged to his wife the whole thing from beginning to end, 
 and while he lived he lamented the doom of the unhappy 
 informer. 
 
 CHOOSING THE LEAST OF THREE EVILS. 
 
 There was once a very holy monk, and the devil was lay- 
 ing siege to him night and day to make him commit sin. 
 Well, the Old Boy was not able to get any advantage over 
 him, but the poor man was tormented out of his life by the 
 constant annoyance he got from the bad thoughts the devil 
 was putting in his head. At last says the black thief to 
 him, " Fll make a bargain with you that you'll own is en- 
 tirely to your own profit. Commit one mortal sin to oblige 
 me, and I'll let you alone all the rest of your life. And 
 I'll give you your choice. Get drunk, or commit murder, 
 or take liberties with your neighbour's wife." Well, the 
 good man said to himself, " It is better to be left at peace. 
 I'll get drunk ; it is much the least of these sins, and sure 
 I'll repent heartily for it, and do penance. What signifies 
 it towards the torment the thief makes me endure putting 
 nasty things in my head every minute in the day V So in 
 the evening he got his whiskey, and his sugar, and his hot 
 water, and made himself comfortable, and, bedad, he began 
 to indulge in bad thoughts that he'd drive awa}^, with God's 
 help, at any other time the moment they'd enter his head. 
 The porters wife just came in to stir the fire, or to do some- 
 thing, and nothing would do my poor monk but to fling 
 his arms round her neck and give her a smack. She bawl- 
 ed out, and her husband that was in the passage ran in, 
 and knocked the drunken man down. The devil gave him 
 strength, I suppose, for he got hold of the tongs and gave 
 
126 THE FIRESTDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 the husband such a crack on the head as left him senseless. 
 The cries of the woman brought a lot of people into the 
 room, and my poor sinner was taken and punished. I don't 
 know whether the husband was killed or not ; but you see 
 by this that we're never to listen to the devil's advice in 
 anything, or commit a sin with our free will for any consi- 
 deration in the world. The poor monk thought he'd only 
 get drunk, and do nobody any harm, and see the other 
 crimes it brought on his head. 
 
 THE HERMIT AND THE ROBBER. 
 
 There was once a very holy hermit, who was very exact 
 in all his duties ; but one cold winter's night, when he was 
 examining his conscience, he recollected that some of his 
 duties of that very day were neglected. He felt such sorrow 
 for his fault that he threw off his clothes, and went into 
 a deep part of the river that ran at the bottom of the hill 
 in which his cell was scooped out. While he was there 
 shivering and perishing with the cold, though he hardly 
 felt it on account of his sorrow, he heard a voice saying, 
 " Come out of the water when this twig blossoms," and at 
 the same time he felt it in his hand. Just then a man went 
 by driving four or five head of cattle before him. When 
 he saw the poor man with only his head above the water, 
 he called out, " Oh, God help you, my poor fellow ! can you 
 come near the edge till I pull you out ]" " I dont want 
 to be pulled out. I am here punishing myself for a sin of 
 omission." "Omission! what's that? Killed any body 
 after robbing him ?" "No." " Betrayed your comrade, and 
 got him hanged 1" " No." " Well, robbed a chapel f ' &c, 
 &c. "No." "Well, I am beat. What was it then?" 
 " It was so and so ; — neglected my prayers, and the few I 
 said were not said with any devotion." 
 
 The man was going to laugh, but he stopped himself. 
 " Oh gracious ! If you think you deserve punishment for 
 such a fleabite as that, what's to become of me that's just 
 after stealing these cattle, and didn't do much better for 
 
THE HERMIT AND THE ROBBER. 12 J 
 
 seven years past ? Fll repent and punish myself just as 
 you're doing. Maybe God will pardon me, when he sees 
 my heart changed." He turned the cattle about, and put 
 them on the way back to their farm, and came back, and 
 stripped himself, and went and stood by the hermit. After 
 some time he heard the same voice, and found the second 
 twig in his hand. Angels appeared to them at last, and the 
 robber was delighted to see blossoms on his twig. He did 
 not see any on the hermit's, and was unwilling to leave the 
 w T ater before him. However it bloomed out half a minute 
 later, and out came the both joyfully. So you see a great 
 sinner that gets a strong turn at once against his evil life, 
 and forsakes it, is in a better state than a shilly-shally 
 lukewarm person, that performs his duties and devotions 
 in a dawdling lazy manner. 
 
 BIETH AND BAPTISM OF ST. MOGUE. 
 
 Saint Killian, on a day of the days missed his oxen which 
 he pastured at Fenagh in Cavan, and set off in quest of 
 them. He came up with them* on the edge of Templeport 
 lake, standing without a stir, and looking steadfastly at the 
 island which lay in the middle of the sheet of water. The 
 ferryman's house was near the spot, and he asked the wife 
 if anything remarkable had happened in the island during 
 the night. She said that a strange woman had got herself 
 ferried across to it, and had been delivered of a fine man 
 child. Moreover the bedpost which she had grasped in her 
 pains had sent roots into the ground ; and from its top had 
 sprung branches in full leaf and flower, and gone through 
 the roof. " Where's your husband and the boat 1 " said 
 the saint. " At the farther side of the lake," said she. 
 " Bring out something, on which you may go across to the 
 island for the. infant, that I may baptise him." " There is 
 nothing on which I could sit or stand but the hearthstone, 
 and sure that would not do." " Well, try it." " But sure 
 I couldn't lift it." " Make the attempt." She did so, and 
 the flag was no heavier than a thin dry board. The saint 
 
128 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 placed it on the water, bade the woman get on it, and spread 
 out her shawl to catch the breeze. She obeyed, and had a 
 delightful sail to the island. 
 
 There she received the child from Eithne its mother, 
 brought it to the saint, and he baptised it by the name of 
 Mogue. The woman then re-conveyed it to the island to 
 its mother, and in time he became a priest, spent some time 
 with St. David in Wales, and during the later years of his 
 life governed the Bishopric of Ferns in Wexford. 
 
 The miraculous hearthstone afterwards conveyed many a 
 corpse to its place of interment in the island. 
 
 THE GREEDY MASON. 
 
 A Saint was busily occupied raising the walls of a Cathe- 
 dral in Ulster ; and in order that his workmen should be 
 freed from the annoyance of providing themselves with food, 
 and so have their minds entirely fixed on the great work 
 in hand, his pet cow was slaughtered every evening, care- 
 fully skinned, and her flesh cooked for the supper of his 
 people. On this and some bread and sorrel they made a 
 hearty meal, and felt neither hunger nor weariness till their 
 next day's work was done. All the company had charge 
 not to break or injure a bone of the animal : these were 
 collected after the meal, and wrapped carefully in the skin, 
 and next morning the wonderful cow was grazing as com- 
 posedly as if no liberties had been taken with her fat or 
 lean the evening before. 
 
 All this had pleasantly gone on for months, and the build- 
 ing was near its completion, when what should meet the 
 eyes of the saint one morning, as he was going to inspect 
 the progress of the building, but his poor cow limping along 
 on three legs'? She lowed dismally at her kind master, and 
 he experienced as sharp a pang of annoyance as any saint 
 could endure. He had the work suspended, and ordered 
 the men all into his presence. " 1 shall not give any of 
 you/' said he, " a pretence for telling a falsehood : pass be- 
 fore me till I discover the sensual wretch who, for sake of 
 
THE GREEDY MASON. 1 29 
 
 a little marrow, broke a leg bone of our poor pet cow, our 
 support, our earthly treasure. Pass before me one by one. 
 I shall soon read in the glutton's face the evidence of his 
 crime. 
 
 "No need," said the repentant culprit. " I am the wretch, 
 and will patiently suffer any punishment you may inflict." 
 
 " You have done well/ 'said the saint. " Had you endea- 
 voured to conceal your crime, you would die by the fall of 
 a stone before the building would be completed. However, 
 the curse shall remain in your family ; and a late descend- 
 ant of yours shall perish as he passes by this cathedral, 
 from a slipping of one of the walls." To this day a de- 
 scendant of the man will not dare to walk by the crumbling 
 walls of the old building. 
 
 This saintly legend was not the work of an ordinary hagio- 
 grapher. Some bardic romancer had received by tradition 
 such a pagan myth as that of the ]STorse deities feeding on 
 their boar or their horse Sleipner after their daily combats 
 were ended, and tacked it to the memory of the christian 
 saint. 
 
 > ♦ ♦ » < 
 
 THE MUSIC OF HEAVEN. 
 
 There was a monastery once, and it had a nice garden, and 
 between the garden and a big forest there was only a rail- 
 ing that had a door in the middle of it A very pious 
 monk was sitting in the summer house of the garden one 
 evening, after saying all his prayers and his offices, and he 
 was pondering over different things in the psalms he was 
 after reading, and among the rest one saying that a thousand 
 years was in the sight of God only as a day. He pondered, 
 and he pondered, and he could not understand the words 
 at all, and while he was this way, a bird began to sing in 
 one of the trees just outside the garden. He never heard 
 anything like it in his life before, and it was just what he 
 supposed the melody made by angels to be. At last the 
 bird fluttered away to a tree further off, and the monk went 
 outside of the garden, not to lose any of the notes, and still 
 the bird moved further off, and still the monk followed it, 
 
 9 
 
IjO THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 his whole soul and mind and memory all wrapt up in the 
 sweet music. He went into the wood about a quarter of a 
 mile, and he was as he thought about half an hour moving 
 that far, and he couldn't fancy heaven itself to have any- 
 thing more heavenly than the notes of the bird. 
 
 At last it stopped singing, and the poor man felt like 
 one just falling down on the earth out of Paradise. He 
 went back dismally, and when he came to where the paling 
 and the little door in it ought to be, there was a high wall, 
 and towers, and a big door, and a little one beside it. " Oh 
 dear ! " said the poor man, " am I dreaming, or what has 
 come over me 1 " He rang the bell and the little door was 
 opened. " What is your business f said the porter, a man 
 with a face and dress on him quite strange to the monk. 
 " My business, brother, is to go in, and say my prayers, and 
 go to bed/' " Go to bed ! You speak as if you belonged 
 to the place, and you a perfect stranger. Who are you 1 * 
 " Rather you tell me who are you 1 There was a garden 
 here half an hour ago, when I left it to follow a bird that 
 was singing heavenly music into the wood, and here I find 
 walls and gates where there was a paling between the 
 garden and the wood, and a strange porter, for I don't re- 
 member ever seeing your. face before/' Well, some of the 
 brothers that were going by, gathered round, and could 
 make no more of the business than the porter. They asked 
 him who was the abbot when he left the garden, and what 
 king reigned in the country, and shook their heads when 
 he mentioned their names. They thought they were speak- 
 ing with a man out of his mind, till at last one of them 
 said, " Let us bring him to Brother So-and-so. He's a hun- 
 dred and ten years old, and maybe he'll help us in our 
 puzzle.'' They brought him to the old brother through 
 passages and rooms he never saw before, they wondering 
 at his strange dress and he at theirs. 
 
 When the old, old man heard the story, he began to 
 speak. " Brothers, when I entered this monastery very 
 young, I often heard from an old brother, who was then as 
 old as I am now, that when himself was a novice the 
 oldest of the monks used to be telling of a brother So-and- 
 so that left the house one evening, and never was heard of 
 
THE MUSIC OF HEAVEN. 1 3 I 
 
 again." " I am that poor lost brother," said the monk, " and 
 God has thus made me feel how a thousand years in His 
 sight are only as a day, a thing I was striving to understand 
 that evening. A thousand years listening to that bird of 
 heaven would not seem an hour to me. I have now lived 
 centuries beyond my time. Let me make my confession 
 and receive the last sacraments, for I think no further time 
 will be allotted me on earth." And it was so ; he died the 
 death of the saints that night. 
 
 The fairies are considered by archaeologists as the heirs 
 and descendants of the inferior pagan divinities, good and 
 evil. The demi-gods and demons were reduced to this 
 condition when heathenism was outwardly brought to an 
 end. However, the popular belief is that the fairies were 
 those angels who, at Lucifer's revolt, did not openly join 
 him, but felt a kind of sympathy with his wicked aspira- 
 tions. When the rebel angels were precipitated into hell, 
 these cowardly spirits fell no farther than the earth, on 
 which they are to remain till the day of judgment, uncer- 
 tain during the whole time whether they are to be par- 
 doned or condemned. Our own Irish fairies are the spirits 
 of the Danaan Druid chiefs, who, after their death, took 
 possession of the chief subterranean caverns throughout the 
 kingdom, and continued, according to their good or evil dis- 
 positions, to succour or injure the descendants of the Mile- 
 sians by whom they had been dispossessed. For further 
 information on the subject of the fairy kingdom the reader 
 is referred to the Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts ; 
 Macmillan, 1866. / oaat l£>3 ) 
 
 > ♦ ♦ ♦ < 
 
 HOW DONN FIRINNE GOT HIS HORSE SHOD. 
 
 The oldest Sighe-Chiefof the Milesian line is Bonn Firinne, 
 the truth- telling king. He was the son of Mil£, or Milesius, 
 and when the Danaans raised a fog round the island, to 
 prevent the landing of him and his brothers Heber, Here- 
 mon, and Amhergin, he was shipwrecked on the Du chains, 
 
 9* 
 
132 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 in West Munster, and there perished as to his mortal part. 
 The people to this day call these rocks Teach Duin (Donn's 
 House). He bestows his attention on the invisible concerns 
 of the whole kingdom, but resides in Knocfierna, near 
 Limerick, and when not presiding over the sumptuous 
 entertainments there furnished, he looks after the fairy 
 tribes of Thomond (North Munster) and Ormond, and oc- 
 casionally makes a raid at their head against the fairies of 
 Connaught, or Leinster, or South Munster. He is rather 
 patriotic, and friendly besides to native talent. In Croker's 
 Legends is given an address made to him by a poor poet, 
 whose verses seemed to be in no request by king or chief 
 of mortal mould. It begins thus : — 
 
 u Donn of the ocean vats, I give due reverence to thee." 
 
 Donn would not be a genuine Milesian spirit if ungifted 
 with combative propensities. A blacksmith near the leale 
 was one night w T akened up to put a shoe on the steed of a 
 noble-looking rider. He fashioned it without much delay, 
 but the great feat was to adjust and fasten it on. So 
 skittish and mettlesome were the mare's capers, that he 
 could not bring the iron convenience within a yard of its 
 appointed place. The master, after looking on for some 
 time, with grim amusement playing over his features, 
 quietly wrung off the lower portion of the leg, and pre- 
 sented it to the operator. Awe of the rider now unnerved 
 him as much as the tricks of the steed had done before, 
 but the stranger thus attempted to encourage him. " Don't 
 be frightened, but fasten in your nails. I am Donn Fir- 
 inne, and am conducting ten thousand of my forces to wage 
 battle and conflict against the fairies of Cork. My people 
 are awaiting me outside your door at this moment." 
 
 All this was far from putting the village Yulcan at his 
 ease; but, better or worse, he got through the job some way. 
 The version of the story accessible to us mentions the con- 
 clusion of the shoeing, the adjusting of the shod portion to 
 the rest of the leg by Donn, the shouting of the tribe when 
 they saw their chief emerging from the forge, and the speed 
 with which they escaped from the blacksmith's sight. 
 Donn seems to have been in such a hurry, that he omitted 
 
HOW DONN FIRINNE GOT HIS HORSE SHOD. 1 33 
 
 to make any compensation to the black artist for his 
 
 trouble. 
 
 > ♦ ♦ ♦ < 
 
 CLIONA OF MUNSTER. 
 Cliona, the most powerful, and at the same time the 
 most wayward of the Munster fairies was daughter of the 
 terrible Ked-haired Druid who once threw a thick darkness 
 over a Northern force set in battle array against the South- 
 ern men, and thereby effected their defeat. Cliona and 
 Aoibhil (pron. EvilJ, were his daughters ; and Caoimh the 
 Pleasant (O'Keeffe), a neighbouring chief, was suitor for 
 the hand of the younger (Evil). Cliona happening to have 
 her affections set on Caoimh, brought a wasting sickness on 
 her sister, and at last the appearance of death, by the ad- 
 ministration of a narcotic. She was interred, but the spite- 
 ful Cliona had her conveyed to a cave at Castlecor, where, 
 under the appearance of a cat, she is still occasionally seen. 
 Her other quarters are at Carriglea, near Killaloe. 
 
 Cliona's Court is five miles south of Mallow, in a lonely 
 district : it consists of a rock in the centre of a circular 
 space, surrounded by other smaller ones, the whole enclo- 
 sure (about two acres) carpeted by the finest turf, and no 
 rocks interrupting the view for a considerable distance. 
 Belated travellers have seen Cliona and her troops holding 
 consultation here, or leading the dance round the delightful 
 enclosure. On winter nights frightful noises have been 
 heard from Carrig Cliona, and no peasant or peasantess 
 would enter or cross the eirie place after nightfall for any 
 consideration. 
 
 As Cliona was once disporting in the neighbourhood by 
 moonlight, under the appearance of a white rabbit, she was 
 espied and made captive by an unlucky farmer, who bore 
 her home, and kept her well secured. From the moment 
 of her unwilling entrance into the house misfortunes de- 
 scended in a storm upon the owner. Floods carried away 
 his stacks, his cattle were missing, and at last two of his 
 children lay on the bed of death. Within the space of a 
 week all were at their wit's end, till some one remarked on 
 the presence of the rabbit, and the beginning of their woes 
 as occurring on the same day. The hint was sufficient. 
 
134 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 The unlucky animal was liberated, and the children reco- 
 vered. The strayed animals were found, ill-luck left the 
 place, and white rabbits were carefully avoided for the fu- 
 ture by every member of the family. 
 
 There was a " hurling" in the glen by the side of the 
 river Feale, and among the spectators were James Eoche 
 and his son John, a child of seven years old. Cliona came 
 out of the rock, unseen by any one in the crowd, and 
 throwing a cloak over the boy, she led him into her cavern, 
 and for fourteen years he was never seen by mortal. At 
 the end of that period he presented hiruself to the eyes of 
 his father, a full-grown young man, and while fear and joy 
 were struggling in the heart of the old man, he thus spoke : 
 " Dear father, I have been kept by Cliona in her rock for 
 fourteen years, and now she is obliged to let me be seen by my 
 family. If you cannot free me from her power in three 
 months, she will oblige me to marry a young woman whom 
 she stole when a child, and neither she nor I will ever again 
 enjoy the society of our kind. If you travel to the lower 
 part of Ireland, and persuade Kathleen Dhu, who lives by 
 the church of Clogher, to come with you, she can free me 
 from the enchantment in which I am held." 
 
 It was not long till the sorrowful father was on his jour- 
 ney, and after long travelling and much fatigue he was in 
 the presence of the dark witch. She was ill of a fever at 
 the time, but told him her daughter was equally powerful 
 with herself, and would return w 7 ith him if he would libe- 
 rally reward her. " There's nothing in my possession she 
 may ask," said he, " that I can refuse, if she free my son 
 from the Sighe." 
 
 So they set out, and in due time they arrived at his house. 
 "Get me now," said she, "the skin of a newly-killed sheep." 
 It was got, and dried, and the wool plucked off, and she 
 put it on as a cloak with the flesh side out ; and so she and 
 Koche presented themselves at the entrance of Carrig Cliona. 
 " Hail Cliona of the Carrig ! " said she. " A long distance 
 I came to see you, all along from the church of Clogher, 
 where the birds speak to the border of the foxes. If John, son 
 
CLIONA OF MUNSTEE. 1 35 
 
 of James, has wedded the young woman of the Sighe, or 
 kissed her lips, woe and wrath shall light on him, and her, 
 and on their mistress, Cliona, daughter of the Red Druid." 
 
 At these threatening words Cliona came forth, and was 
 dismayed by the long coarse hair of the young witch that 
 fell to her hips, and by the cloak of raw hide, with horns, 
 legs, and all hanging about her. She had put a druidic charm 
 on her eyes, that even made the Sighe tremble. " Who are 
 you $" said she. " Are you Aoine, or Aoibhil of the Gray 
 Rocks, or Ana Cleir, come hither from Bemus, or a witch 
 westward from Beara V 
 
 " No, I am not of your race at all. 1 am of the Bollar 
 Beamish, and my brother is Slawbocht no Treamhie and the 
 Ruiddhera Rua, (Red Knight), from the harbour of Ben 
 Hedir (Howth). My other brother is Dorrin Deidh gal, 
 who can make the old young, and the young old, and raise 
 the dead out of the earth, and the Ard Righ of the Sliochd 
 Sighe of Erinn has given me the run of all the country, and 
 if I meet with refusal or evil treatment, he will come and 
 take sharp revenge for it." 
 
 Cliona was overawed by the wild appearance and the 
 threatening language of the daughter of Black Catherine, 
 and she gave up John, son of James, praying that the witch 
 might be nothing the better for her acquisition. But she 
 was the better, for when she flung off her raw cloak, and 
 her long head-covering of coarse horsehair, and stood be- 
 fore John, son of James, as a dark- eyed, beautiful young 
 woman, he said if she would not become his wife he would 
 return again to the Sighe of Cliona. The father gave his 
 consent, a little unwillingly ; but our authority has afforded 
 us no information on the subject of the subsequent house- 
 keeping of the young couple. 
 
 A loud noise as from the surging of a wave is occasionally 
 heard in the harbour of Glandore, county of Cork, both in 
 calm and stormy weather. It is the forerunner of the shift- 
 ing of the wind to the north-east. It is called the " Tonn 
 Cliona," or Cliona's wave, and was supposed in days gone 
 by to portend the death of a king or great chief. 
 
J36 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 The much-lamented scholar and estimable man, Mr. John Windele 
 of Cork, furnished the editor of this work with the following bizarre 
 tradition : — 
 
 A BULLOCK CHANGELING. 
 
 In the famed kingdom of Kerry, and not far from Tralee, 
 stood the estate of Mr. Bateman, who, among other valuable 
 cattle, owned one fine bullock, not to be matched in the 
 seven neighbouring townlands for size and condition. But 
 all at once he unaccountably began to fall away, and at last 
 might be exhibited as a bovine living skeleton. All at- 
 tempts to put fat on his unfortunate ribs by oil or other 
 cake were fruitless, and at last Mr. Bateman gave him to 
 one of his tenants to convert him to any use he pleased. 
 He, knowing the folly of attempting to turn him to profit 
 while living, imagined his death instead, and sold him to a 
 Tralee butcher for little more than the value of his hide. 
 The honest flesher, wishing to realise at once, put his prize 
 in a suitable knocking-down position in his slaughter-house, 
 and, swinging his pole-axe, came down with a mighty blow 
 where he expected to find his head. But the selfish ani- 
 mal, at the moment the axe cut deep into the floor, was 
 cleaving the half door in good style, preparatory to a head- 
 long charge down the street. The battle-axe man, not 
 willing to be a loser, swept after him fully armed ; and the 
 neighbours, excited by his cries, and the pace of the ill- 
 favoured ox, joined in the pursuit. He kept his odds well ; 
 and when he came to the open gate of the demesne, he 
 dashed through, and galloped direct for the old lios. On- 
 ward came in hot haste men, and boys, and dogs, but the 
 more haste they made to come up, the less he seemed dis- 
 posed to allow them. He scampered furiously round the 
 fort, and by the time his pursuers arrived, hot and tired, 
 no bullock was to be seen. "While they were searching and 
 wondering, the genuine and original ox was seen to walk 
 out from behind a large bush, showing not the least incli- 
 nation for a game at " fox and hounds." This was one of 
 the few instances of an animal's being bona fide restored, 
 and without injury. 
 
[ 137 ] 
 
 HOW JOHN HACKETT WON THE FKENCH PRINCESS. 
 
 John Hackett was a Minister outlaw, one of the many 
 who were put to their shifts after some of the old wars. 
 He was travelling towards Holy Cross when darkness came 
 on, and so he was benighted on the hill of Killoch, and de- 
 bating with himself how he should pass the night. Mean- 
 while he held on walking about to keep up some heat in 
 his body, when on a sudden he heard the sounds as of a 
 company of horse galloping towards him from the north, 
 but the noise they made only resembled the muffled sound 
 of a whisper. When they arrived within a few yards of 
 him, their chief cried out, "A steed and lance for John 
 Hackett. John, you have to come with us." " Where to, 
 sir P " I am the chief of the Sighes of Ely," said he, "and 
 am going straight to Paris to bring the daughter of the 
 King of France home with me. I cannot do it, however, 
 without human help, and you are my man. There is your 
 steed ; here is your lance ; mount !" " With all my heart," 
 said John, " but I must visit Dublin on our way, and the 
 palace of the king of England when we are coming back." 
 " That will be a great delay, but if it is necessary, be it 
 so." 
 
 . John bestrode the steed, took the lance in his hand, and 
 in a few minutes they were at the door of his brother in 
 Dublin. He entered but would not stop to eat or drink. 
 He asked for a piece of parchment, ink, and a pen, and he 
 wrote out these words, " I grant my Royal pardon to John 
 Hackett of Munster." 
 
 He then joined his friends on the outside with his parch- 
 ment, his pen, and his inkhorn, carefully secured in his 
 clothes. They mounted their steeds, and as the next night 
 was beginning to close in, they were standing outside the 
 French King's palace. 
 
 They had made John invisible even as themselves, and 
 all went in, and passed through the guests, and took their 
 stations on mantel-pieces, and the backs of chairs, and 
 looked on at the dancing. The princess was sitting by her 
 father, and playing with a little spaniel, and enjoying the 
 sight of the dancing. " There is my bride elect," said the 
 
138 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 fairy chief, u but I have no power while that spaniel is 
 about her. Secure him, John ; it is for that I brought you 
 here." John went behind the royal chair, stooped, reached 
 over his hand, and put the spaniel in his pocket. The same 
 moment three arrows were shot at the princess by the fairy 
 chief. She sneezed three times, fainted, and was immedi- 
 ately placed on a steed and borne away. What appeared 
 to be her dead body was left on the spot where she had 
 fainted, while she and Hackett and the rest were flying 
 over the sea to England. 
 
 When they came to the palace of the king, all the troop 
 but John remained in the cellar to refresh themselves, but 
 the princess continued still, without knowing what was 
 going on about her. John passed into the King's bed- 
 chamber, and walked up to his bed-side. "Hillo ! ho ! King 
 of Saxonland ! " said he, "awake ! " " Who dares disturb 
 me out of my sleep]" said the king. "It is I, John 
 Hackett of Munster, who asks your royal pardon and pro- 
 tection. ? ' " My protection to you will be the axe of the 
 executioner." " Then," said John, drawing his sword, " I 
 must be under the necessity of cutting off your Majesty's 
 head." " Oh, oh ! that is another thing ; open the door 
 and tell my attendants to bring me pen, ink, and parch- 
 ment." " And maybe, your majesty, the cord or the hatchet 
 besides. Here are the materials, only waiting for your 
 majesty's fingers." 
 
 His majesty signed his name \ John took the paper and 
 vanished, and after some slight refreshment in the cellar, 
 all took horse for Ireland, and in due time landed on the 
 same hill from which they had taken him. 
 
 " What am I to get now for my trouble % " said he. 
 M We'll fill your hat and pockets with gold." " I must 
 have the princess also." " Say you so ! You know what 
 our arrows can do." " And you know what this spaniel 
 can do," said he, taking it out of his pocket with one hand, 
 and laying hold on the sleeping lady with the other. 
 
 All uttered cries of fright, and in two seconds there was 
 not one of them to be seen. The princess awoke, and it 
 was long before she recovered from her sorrow to find her- 
 self in a strange land, and in company with a stranger. He 
 
HOW JOHN HACKETT WON THE FRENCH PRINCESS. 1 39 
 
 soon conducted her to a comfortable shelter with his friends, 
 till he got possession of his own lands, and when her first 
 surprise and grief was over, she made him tell her all about 
 the carrying off. This he did, and at the end she liked him 
 better than at the beginning, and this day better than the 
 day before ; and it was not long until they were man and 
 wife in his own house and on his own lands. 
 
 When their second child was born, John said he'd go to 
 Paris and acquaint her parents ; and after some talking 
 over the matter she consented. She gave him a letter and 
 her scarf which she wore the night she was carried away. 
 They put him in confinement till trusty messengers were 
 sent to Ireland, and when these returned with the princess 
 and children there was great joy. John was made a great 
 lord, and if they didn't live happy that we may ! 
 
 > ♦ ♦ ♦ < 
 
 When the housewife's daily cares are over, she may make 
 doors and windows as fast as she pleases ; but if she ne- 
 glects to stick the reaping hook in the thatch, or if she 
 does not loose the wheel-band, or tie the hand -reel with a 
 rush, or neglects to pour out the water that washed the feet 
 by the channel under the door, those treacherous allies of 
 the fairies will let them in. 
 
 THE FAIRY-STRICKEN SERVANT. 
 A travelling woman once got lodging in a farmer's house, 
 and was provided with a bed in the kitchen. The sluttish 
 servant-maid went to sleep in the settle, and was soon 
 snoring soundly. About midnight the strange woman heard 
 a tapping at the door, and a ghostly voice crying through 
 the key-hole, " Where are you, Feet- water ? " I am in 
 the tub, where I oughtn't to be." " Hand-reel, where are 
 you I" " Lying I am on the dresser." " Keaping-hook, 
 where are you V' " Lying loose on the floor." " Wheel- 
 band, where are you ¥' " Drawn tight round the rim I 
 am." "Feet-water, reaping-hook, hand-reel, and wheel- 
 band, let us in ?" 
 
1 40 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 In came three wild-looking women to spend part of the 
 night in comfort \ but the turf had been allowed to burn 
 out, and the hearth was unswept and comfortless. Two 
 of them sat down, while the third searched dresser and 
 drawers for some food. But nothing was to be found ex- 
 cept a crust which the lodger had left for the good people 
 on a stool near her bed. She took it, and returned to the 
 hearth, and the three made a meal on it. " Ah, the neg- 
 ligent quean !" said one, who seemed the worst disposed of 
 the party : " I'll leave her something to remind her of her 
 negligence, and the only thing that can cure her is a poul- 
 tice of this bread, left out by that decent woman in the 
 corner. Let us not leave a crumb behind us." After saying 
 this, she lifted a bit of thread off the ground, and threw it 
 at the sleeper in the settle, and soon after all the company 
 went away. When they, were going out, the traveller, 
 keeping her eyes nearly closed, saw the most good-natured 
 of the three look at herself, and drop a few crumbs on the 
 floor. While the women stayed, there was a dull light 
 through the room, but the moment they left, all was as 
 dark as pitch. 
 
 In the morning, the moment the woman awoke, she got 
 up, and gathered the crumbs, and put them up carefully 
 in a bit of rag in her pocket. About three months after- 
 wards, she stopped another night in the same house. She 
 had scarcely sat down when the servant girl began to tell 
 her of a great swelling in her leg, that hindered her from 
 walking any distance, or standing up at all beyond a few 
 minutes : " and it's on me," said she, " since the very night 
 you were here last/' "Well," said the other, "let that 
 lam you to keep a sod of turf alive ail night, and sweep 
 up the hearth, and leave something to eat for the good 
 people when you don't throw out the feet-water, and stick 
 the reaping-hook in the thatch, and tie up the hand-reel, 
 and slack the spinning-wheel. If you'll promise to be 
 •more careful, maybe ourselves can do something for you." 
 " Oh, musha, do, and God bless you, and it's me that'll be 
 careful about what you say from JSTew Year's Day to New 
 Year's Eve." So the woman made a poultice with some 
 hot water and the dry crumbs, and put it to the girl's leg. 
 
THE FAIRY- STRICKEN SERVANT. 141 
 
 It was not a minute on when the skin cracked, and a 
 whole skein of woollen thread worked itself out. You may 
 be sure that she gave herself tidier habits afterwards, and 
 that the wise woman was welcome to a comfortable bed 
 and a good supper and breakfast whenever she passed that 
 way. 
 
 > ♦ + ♦ < 
 
 THE FAIKY EATH OF CLONNAGOWAN. 
 
 In the townland of Clonnagowan, Queen's County, stands 
 a rath which, about forty years since, was studded with 
 old thorn trees. A Mr. Kinsella, to whom this, with the 
 surrounding lands, was leased, took it into his head that he 
 would grub up these ugly trees, make firewood of them, 
 and get a good crop of wheat out of the hitherto useless 
 circle. He was warned by the neighbours that if he at- 
 tempted to do so, the good people would make him suffer ; 
 for, time out of mind, one person or another had seen them 
 dancing, and holding their night festivals among these old 
 stunted thorns. Nothing could daunt him. He fell to 
 work, and began to grub up one of the trees, and had re- 
 moved the sods and earth round it when he was called off 
 on some pressing business. He was not able to resume 
 his labour in the rath that day ; and so at night he retired 
 to rest, with intent to be early at his task next morning. 
 
 About midnight he was wakened by some unusual 
 noises ; and on opening his eyes he found the room all 
 illuminated, though the moon was not yet shining, nor was 
 there an appearance of candle or lamp anywhere. By this 
 light he could see a score of little fellows in green frocks 
 and red caps, the latter shaped like the fox-glove bell or 
 the old Irish birredh. They began to move round the bed, 
 and point their ringers, and make frightful faces at him, 
 half the company moving one way, just close by the bed, 
 and the other half moving in the other direction, outside 
 them. He almost lost his senses in consequence of the 
 confusion of their movements, and the spiteful gestures 
 they were making. He attempted to roar out once or 
 twice, but could not utter a sound, and he could only look 
 and become more and more stupified and frightened. 
 
I42 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 At last there was a pause, and the mischievous creatures 
 scattered themselves over the room, and seizing on every- 
 thing that came in their way, they piled them upon the 
 poor man, till he thought that the weight of the whole 
 house was crushing him 5 and so disturbed was his mind, 
 that he fancied the bed was pressing him down as well as 
 bearing him up ; and the eyes of the little fellows were 
 watching him through the legs of tables and chairs, and 
 shooting icicles of lire and ice into his brain. Then, lest 
 the weight should be too light, they would spring up on 
 the heap of furniture, and jump and prance till he could 
 feel the hard wood and iron piercing in between his ribs, 
 and squeezing his stomach flat on his backbone, and almost 
 crushing his bones to the marrow. He was not able after- 
 wards to tell how relief came to him. When he awoke in 
 the morning he found the different articles of furniture 
 each occupying its own place ; but his bones and muscles 
 felt so sore and bruised that he could hardly stir them ; 
 and his skin was blue, and purple, and black. The first 
 use he made of his tongue was to direct his sons to repair 
 to the rath, and put the removed clay and sods into their 
 places of yesterday morning. Perhaps it was owing to the 
 subsidence of the anger of the Duine Sighe, on witnessing 
 the reparation, that he speedily recovered from the effects 
 of his bruises, and his skin resumed its natural hue. We 
 are unable to say what appearance the rath now presents. 
 Near this village of Clonnagowan is the farm-house of 
 Clonnaquinn, the bawn of which lies directly in — 
 
 THE FAIRIES' PASS. 
 
 It is known that the hill-folk, in their nightly excursions, 
 and in the visits of one tribe to another, go in a straight 
 line, gliding as it were within a short distance of the ground ; 
 and if they meet any strange obstacles in their track, they 
 bend their course above them or at one side, but always 
 with much displeasure. 
 
 A farmer named Finglas, a stranger to the old ways of 
 the country, took this farm, and was not at all satisfied with 
 the accommodation offered by the old farm-house and yard. 
 
the fairies' pass. 143 
 
 There was neither cow-house nor stable, except an excuse 
 for such conveniences at the end of the yard. He would 
 have new buildings made at the side, and dug out the foun- 
 dation at once ; but was warned that the Fairies' Pass lay 
 directly across the bawn, and that it would excite their 
 sovereign displeasure to find stable, or barn, or cow-house 
 in their way. Unhappily Finglas, though married to a 
 Eoman Catholic wife, was himself a benighted Presbyterian, 
 and as such, a contemner of all reverence due to the Good 
 People. But see the result of pretending to be wiser than 
 your neighbours. Scarcely were the buildings thatched, 
 and the cows and horses installed in their niches, when the 
 wisdom of the old people became evident. One animal after 
 another, without apparent cause, began to refuse its food, 
 languished, and died. In vain was recourse made to the most 
 skilful cattle-doctors. Their medicines proved naught, and 
 fairy men or women would have nothing to do with the de- 
 voted beasts ; they were on the Fairies' Path. Not until 
 three-fourths of his cattle were slain by the elf-bolts was 
 Finglas overruled, and at last persuaded to construct new 
 buildings at the end of the bawn. 
 
 Accounts of Banshees being easily met with in the works of Croker, 
 Keightley, Mrs. Hall, &c, the inquisitive are referred thereto for infor- 
 mation — the only one we mean to produce being, so to say, historical. 
 
 THE BANSHEE OF THE O'BRIENS. 
 
 Lady Fanshawe, whose husband was ambassador at the 
 Spanish Court in the reigns of the Charleses, First and Se- 
 cond, has left an account of an individual spirit of this class, 
 which was seen and heard by herself. Being on a visit at 
 the house of Lady Honora O'Brien, and having one night 
 retired to rest, she was awakened about one o'clock by a 
 noise outside one of the windows. She arose, withdrew the 
 curtains, and beheld, by the light of the moon, a female 
 figure leaning in through the open casement. She was of 
 a ghastly complexion, had long red hair, and was enveloped 
 
144 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 in a white gown. She uttered a couple of words in a loud 
 strange tone, and then with a sigh, resembling the rushing 
 of a wind, she disappeared. Her substance seemed of the 
 consistence of dense air, and so awful was the effect pro- 
 duced on the lady that she fainted outright. Next day she 
 related to the lady of the house what she had seen, and the 
 news was received with no marks of surprise. " My cou- 
 sin," said she, " whose ancestors owned this house, died at 
 two o'clock this morning, and, as is the case with the rest 
 of the family, the Banshee was heard wailing every night 
 during his illness. The individual spirit who utters the 
 caoine for this branch of the O'Briens, is supposed to be 
 the ghost of a woman who was seduced and murdered in 
 the garden of this very house by an ancestor of the gentle- 
 man who died this morning. He flung her body into the 
 river under the window ; so the voice and appearance of 
 this waiter causes more terror than those o.f other spirits, 
 with whose grief there is no blending of revenge." 
 
 On one occasion, when the Bean Sighe of the Knight of 
 Kerry was heard announcing by her wail the approaching 
 demise of the chief, the merchants of Dingle, forgetting 
 their plebeian births and occupations, took it into their 
 heads to get frightened, lest the wild sounds should bode 
 the immediate departure of some of themselves. A native 
 poet, however, re- assured them in this wise : — 
 
 " At Dingle when the lament grew loud, 
 Great fear fell on the thrifty merchants, 
 But fear on their own account they need not ; 
 The Banshee wails not such as they." 
 
 TOM KIEKNAN'S VISIT TO FRANCE. 
 
 The above-named worthy was a servant boy who lived at 
 Ballydonoghue, near Tarbert. Being belated in the neigh- 
 bourhood of a so-called Danish fort, he heard considerable 
 noise within, and, coming close to the fence, he spied in a 
 comfortable nook at the other side a party which he always 
 afterwards described as fairies or witches, but could not tell 
 
TOM KIERNAN S VISIT TO FRANCE. 1 45 
 
 which. At the conclusion of some (to him) unintelligible 
 ceremony, they pronounced the words Bruchas tha ussa one 
 after the other, and shot off through the air in a S. E. di- 
 rection. " A fine thing to be able to do/' said Tom. 
 " Bruchas tha ussa, if you go to that," and away he flew in 
 their train. All were soon in a wine-cellar in the south of 
 France drinking like kings or fishes. When they had 
 nearly emptied the entire of the vessels, they repeated the 
 same words as before, and all soared back to Ireland, leav- 
 ing the goblets behind. Tom, however, brought away his, 
 and next morning gave it up to his master, with a full ac- 
 count of the expedition. 
 
 Several years after, a French vessel anchored in Tarbert, 
 and the owner was entertained at the house of Tom's mas- 
 ter, who, to do honour to his guest, produced his finest ar- 
 ticles in plate, and among the others the captured goblet. 
 The guest stared hard, as well he might, at the vessel, and 
 eagerly asked his host how it had come into his possession. 
 He furnished the needful explanation as to its being given 
 up to him by Tom, and Tom's legend of its acquisition,' 
 which he by no means credited. " You may give entire 
 belief to his story," said the other, " for I remember dis- 
 tinctly the morning on which our wine-casks were found 
 empty and this goblet missing. We were nearly ruined by 
 that very drinking bout," said he, " and have scarcely yet 
 recovered. Let me, if you please, see the face of your Mon- 
 sieur Tom." This hero being introduced, the stranger gazed 
 on him for nearly three minutes as on one whose like he 
 should never see again. Before quitting the house, with his 
 lost property in his possession, he slipped a louis d'or into 
 Mr. Kieman's palm, and told him how happy he should be 
 to see him at his home in France, provided he made the 
 visit in the way familiar to ordinary mortals. 
 
 THE LOVE PHILTRE.— A Fact. 
 
 Nora, a healthy, bouncing young country damsel, but no 
 way gifted with beauty, registered a vow that she would be 
 the wife of young Mr. Bligh, a " half sir," that lived near. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 The young fellow always spoke civilly and good-naturedly 
 to her, but after a year or two's acquaintance, Nora saw no 
 immediate sign of her vow being accomplished. She held 
 consultations with adepts in fairy and demon lore, and dis- 
 covered that the liver of a cat thoroughly black, white paws 
 excepted, was sovereign in the process of procuring a return 
 of love. Aided by her sister and another woman, researches 
 were made, the cat discovered, and slain, with accompani- 
 ments which we do not choose to particularize. The liver 
 was then carefully taken out, broiled, and reduced to an 
 impalpable powder. 
 
 In a day or two the gallant was passing by Nora's cottage, 
 and seeing her at the bawn gate he " put the speak" on her. 
 She, nothing loth, kept up the conversation, and after some 
 further talk, asked might she take the liberty of requesting 
 him to come in and take a cup of tea. He did not think 
 the better of her prudence for making the demand, but felt 
 he couldn't refuse without incivility. So he was set com- 
 fortably at table, and Nora soon filled his cup from a black 
 -teapot, which, in addition to some indifferent tea, contained 
 a pinch of the philtre. The guest began the banquet with 
 notions and intentions not very complimentary to his en- 
 tertainer; but when he took up his hat to walk home, he 
 was determined on setting her up as the mistress of his 
 heart and house. It is in the nature of this magic potion, 
 that if the dose is not repeated at intervals, the effect be- 
 comes weaker, and at length ceases altogether. Nora, aware 
 of this, renewed the administration at every visit, till his 
 infatuation became such that he announced to his family 
 and relations his immediate marriage with the cabin girl. 
 Vain were coaxings, threats, reasonings, etc. ; and at last the 
 eve of the wedding-day arrived. Paying a visit to his 
 charmer that happy evening, they were enjoying the most 
 interesting and delightful conversation, when the latch was 
 raised, and a party of seven or eight young fellows, armed 
 with good hazel rods, entered and began to lay thousands 
 on his devoted back and shoulders. Nora flung herself be- 
 tween, and received a few slight blows ; but before they 
 ceased practising on the amorous youth, every bone in his 
 body was sore, and he himself unable to use arms or legs. 
 
THE LOVE PHILTRE. 147 
 
 That was what they wanted. They trundled him into a 
 car, and took him home, where he was tended and watched 
 for a month. The drug not being administered all that 
 time, he was amazed when he was able to quit his bed that 
 he should ever have been guilty of such an absurdity. So 
 to Nora's remorse for the unholy proceeding was now added 
 chagrin at her want of success. 
 
 It is probable that some of the fairy fictions were the 
 manufacture of scape -graces, who, to cover their neglect on 
 certain occasions, got themselves out of disgrace by the in- 
 vention of some wild adventures that had befallen them. 
 An instance occurred to our own knowledge of a little boy, 
 who, being sent for a pitcher of water at noon, did not re- 
 turn till past sunset, and then saved himself from dis- 
 cipline by a recital of a most dangerous ride on the back of 
 the pooka, who had got between his legs while he was fill- 
 ing his jug. 
 
 THE POOKA OF BALTRACY. 
 
 Young Pat Davidson of this townland was sent by his 
 grandmother for a pitcher of water about one o'clock in the 
 afternoon, but it was not till sunset that the truant, whose 
 absence had caused great disquietude in the interim, was 
 seen coming up the meadow from the side of the wood 
 where the well lay. He seemed much fatigued, and various 
 rents were visible in his clothes, and scratches on his naked 
 legs. His overjoyed grandmother went down the path to 
 meet him, but she took good care to dissemble her feelings. 
 She looked at him with lowering brows, winding the strings 
 of herpraskeen [apron] the while round that useful article, 
 presently to do the duty of a whip. " You villian o' the 
 world ! " was her first greeting, " what kep' you till now ? 
 where were you loitering V " Oh, granny honey, it's well 
 you ever seen me again ! look at me clothes, an' me poor 
 legs ! " " Why, child, what happened you V 1 " Musha, an' 
 wasn't it the Pooka happened me : the curse o' Cromwell 
 
 10* 
 
I48 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 on him ! Just as I was stoopin' down at the well to fill the 
 jug, what did I see but his ears and his neck comin' out 
 betune me legs, and before I had time to bless meself, off he 
 was with me through the wood, knockin' me head again' the 
 boughs, an' tearin' me legs again the brush till we got 
 through, an were out in the fields. Oh, granny, such spon- 
 shees as he made over ditches and rivers, and so 'fraid as I 
 was that I'd be thrown every moment ! Well, at last, where 
 were we chargin' "but at the house where aunt Bessy lived, 
 and that the roof is off [whose roof is off]. He run full 
 plump up to it, and when I was expectin' to have me head 
 broke again' the wall, there we wor thro' the winda, and 
 never crack cried till we got to Cloncurry. Well, there he 
 put his ugly nose to the ground, and kicked up his hine legs, 
 thinkin' to have me down in less than no time, but I held 
 to the mane like vengeance, an' gripped his sides wud me 
 knees. He turned back there and give me the same Jceerhau- 
 lin 9 till we got to the well again, and then he pitched me off 
 like a sack of whate; an', granny honey, isn't it a mercy that 
 you ever seen me again V " Oh musha, my poor paustha 
 [child, pais], but it's grateful I am that the divel of a pooka 
 wasn't allowed to murdher you. Come in alanna ! " etc. 
 
 The winged words of this story soon went through the 
 townland, and when Pat presented himself at school next 
 day the faithless master began to question the hero on the 
 particulars of his ride. The youth, either discomposed by 
 the cold glances of the judge's eyes, or rendered by the 
 terror accompanying the exploit incapable of exact recollec- 
 tion, was found to vary from himself in some essential par- 
 ticulars, and the result was a severe liaising. After some 
 time, when the wounds were ceasing to smart, and the mas- 
 ter's back was turned, an urchin had the ill nature to jeer 
 him for telling such a bare-faced lie to his grandmother 
 about the pooka. " Oh the sarra pooka you," said he, 
 " if you were there, an' saw granny lookin' so vicious, an' 
 twistin' her praskeen to leather you, you'd invent a worse 
 thing yourself." 
 
 >-o^~«*-< 
 
 The ensuing legends cannot in strictness be classed under 
 our general title, as they possess only local interest. How- 
 
THE ENCHANTED CAT OF BANTRY. 1 49 
 
 ever, there are none among them which are not popular in 
 some part of the country, and therefore they are considered 
 worthy of a place in our collection. 
 
 THE ENCHANTED CAT OF BANTRY. 
 
 Long ago, after the English first came to Ireland, there were 
 continual fights and skrimmages between themselves (their 
 great strength was down in the baronies of Forth and Bargy ), 
 and the people in the upper part of the country, who would 
 have no rulers except the old royal blood of Leinster, the 
 O'Cavanaghs. Parties from each side would drive away 
 cattle from their enemy, and kill the owners if they resisted. 
 A little bodach of the English side that lived off towards 
 Ballinvegga came in the dead of the night with a boy of 
 his to a lonesome house somewhere near the Glounthaan, 
 killed the poor owner and some of his family, and drove 
 away all the cattle that were in the place, and that was only 
 a cow and a sheep. But mind, when they were getting 
 home they found themselves pursued, and had no way to 
 save their lives but by breaking into a chapel. I don't know 
 whether it was the one at Rathgarogue or Temple Udigan . 
 
 When the crowd went by, and they were relieved of their 
 fright, they began to feel hungry. So they killed the sheep, 
 and were roosting a quarter of it at a fire they made out of 
 old coffin boards, when a big cat with blazing eyes came in 
 through the wall, and miawed out, " Shone feol/" [Is uaiin 
 feoil, flesh is from me, i.e. I want flesh]. They were so 
 frightened they gave him the quarter that was roasting. 
 When he ate it he licked his chops and roared out again, 
 "Shone feol I " and so on till he gobbled up all the sheep 
 and three quarters of the cow. Hoping that he'd leave them 
 a bit for themselves, they were boiling a piece of the beef 
 over the fire in the cow's hide, stuck up on four stakes with 
 some water in the hollow, but he bawled out more vicious 
 than ever, when all the rest was down the red lane, "Shone 
 ftolf" 
 
 Well, they gave him the piece that was simmering, and 
 while he was aten it they got out and were making the road 
 
I^O THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 home as fast as they could. They were not a quarter of a 
 mile away when the moon happening to show her face, the 
 bodach's boy cried out, " Master, master, the cat is sitting 
 on the crupper behind you." He turned round and was so 
 wild with fright and anger, that he pushed at the tormen- 
 tor with his pike over his left shoulder, and whether he was 
 killed or not, down to the ground he came. Ovoch! in a 
 moment you'd think all the cats from Blackstairs to Carrig- 
 byrne were round them, and before they could look round, 
 the boy and his horse were down, and the wild creatures 
 tearing them limb from limb. The master set spurs to his 
 horse while they were at their work, and never cried crack 
 till he was inside his own bawn and the gate locked. He 
 was more dead than alive when he got in, and couldn't tell 
 what happened him for ever so long. At last he began to 
 give his wife an account of what happened, but when he 
 came to the blow he made with the pike and the tumble of 
 the cat, a kitllcn only half a year old that was sitting on 
 a boss screamed out, " Oh, you thief did you kill my uncle V 
 and without another word she flew at his throat, and tore 
 out a piece the size of her own head. If he hadn't gone on 
 a murdering business, his wife wouldn't be a widow from 
 that day to the last one of her life. 
 
 > » ♦ ♦ < 
 
 Visitors to the Devil's Glen are so occupied with its savage beau- 
 ties, that they rarely give themselves the trouble of inquiring how the 
 rough defile came to be so called. Father Domenech obtained the fol- 
 lowing legend on the subject in his sojourn among the Wicklow hills. 
 
 HOW THE DEVIL'S GLEN GOT ITS NAME. 
 
 Long ago the deep and rugged glen was merely a long low 
 hill, with many trees scattered over its surface. In its 
 neighbourhood was a convent, the ladies of which, espe- 
 cially the novices, would enjoy the free air under the shades 
 of these trees; and to the extreme annoyance of many 
 young princes and chiefs, the lovely Aoife, daughter of a 
 neighbouring magnate, entered the convent as a postulant 
 £jr the veil. Young aspirants to the hand of the insensible 
 
HOW THE DEVILS GLEN GOT ITS NAME. 1^1 
 
 princess came from near and far, to endeavour to shake her 
 resolution. The rules of the convent not being strict, it was 
 not difficult to gain sight and hearing of the princess, but 
 every suitor left the house with a civil and decided refusal. 
 
 Among the crowd of rejected who occasionally saun- 
 tered in company under the trees on the slope of the 
 neighbouring hill, and administered such consolation to 
 each other as they could afford, was an ardent young prince, 
 whose voice joined in most musically with the united cho- 
 rus of the praisers of the fair recluse. Being frequently 
 annoyed by the mocking expression on the countenance of 
 a dark-visaged man among the suitors, when the rest were 
 loudest in their eulogies, he at last civilly asked him did 
 not the princess deserve even warmer encomiums than what 
 she had as yet received. "There is no woman in Erin," 
 said he, " who would not be won from what she considers 
 right conduct, by manly beauty or profuse riches." " Prin- 
 cess Aoife would be proof to both," said the youth. " Be 
 at the entrance of the convent to-morrow at noon, and I will 
 convince you of your mistake. She shall be subjected to 
 the influence of beauty to-morrow ; if that fails, gold shall 
 be tried next day." 
 
 As the prince was sitting sadly enough on a stone before 
 the gate at the hour appointed, he heard the sound of horns 
 executing an enchanting melody, and beheld a mounted 
 chief approaching, from whose jewel- covered dress light 
 flashed at every step of his steed. His face and form were 
 those of a beautiful and well-formed youth, and his retinue 
 wore the most costly clothing. As he passed the prince, he 
 said to him in the tones of his yesterday's acquaintance, 
 " I am going to try the constancy of your adored princess. 
 If you choose, you may enter among my train." 
 
 The prince endeavoured to shout " treachery " at the top 
 of his voice, but an attendant touched him with a wand 
 which left him powerless to move or speak. There he re- 
 mained till the glittering youth came out again, rather hum- 
 bled this time. " Beauty has failed for once," said he. 
 " Gold must exert its power to-morrow." When the train 
 had passed out of sight, the prince recovered his faculties. 
 
 At a high point on the hill was an old stone cross, and 
 
I j 2 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 near it was the issue of a spring, but the neighbourhood 
 was marshy, and the course of the little brook scarcely dis- 
 cernible with naggers, and rushes, and shrubs encumbering 
 the banks. As the prince mournfully sat and ruminated at 
 the foot of the old cross, he at last fell asleep. During his 
 slumber a beautiful form clothed in white flowing robes, 
 and her long hair encircled by a wreath of shamrocks, ap- 
 peared to him, u I am the Sighe," said she, " to whom the 
 care of this stream is intrusted, and I wish that it should 
 dance and sparkle in the sunshine, and that the sounds of 
 its ripples and falls should come to the ears of man and 
 woman. You can accomplish this for me, and punish the 
 
 demon who seeks to turn Aoife from her duty by " 
 
 What followed seemed to be felt by his inward thoughts 
 without meeting his ears. 
 
 Next day, as he sat on the stone, there came by the hand- 
 some and richly-clad youth, with slaves and horses laden 
 with gold and precious stones, and behind and beside the 
 treasures the same richly-dressed train which had been in 
 attendance the day before. This time the prince entered to 
 witness the conference. The gold, and diamonds, and pearls 
 had no more effect on the right-minded Aoife than the su- 
 pernatural beauty of the wooer. He begged and prayed, 
 but in vain, and he fell into such agitation, that his tail es- 
 caped from under his sparkling tunic, and began to lash 
 about him in fury. This was what the prince was waiting 
 for. He flung his praying chaplet round it, and the demon 
 gave such a spring as took him out over the court, and on 
 to the green hill-side. He sped to the spring, but the shade 
 of the stone cross was on it, and he dared not come near. 
 Overcome by the power of the sacred talisman, he flung 
 himself down, and rolled about in agony, tearing away the 
 soil and stones, and flinging them far on each side. 
 
 Thus he burned, and tore up, and flung out earth and 
 rocks for the entire length of the present glen, when tho 
 prince, seeing no further impediment to the free course of 
 the stream, relieved him of the torturing beads. When re- 
 leased, he turned on his tormentor to tear him to pieces, but 
 a glance at the chaplet sent him through the air fleeter than 
 the stone hurled from a sling. 
 
HOW THE DEVILS GLEN GOT ITS NAME. 1^3 
 
 The fairy had now the joy of seeing her stream soon in- 
 creased to a goodly river, leaping from ledge to pool, and 
 rejoicing in its course in the free air and sunshine. 
 
 If the prince did not persuade Aoife to he his "bride, she 
 induced him to "become a monk in the neighbouring monas- 
 tery. When God really calls, it is sinful not to obey. 
 
 > ♦♦♦ <: 
 
 One of the most beautiful of the Ossianic legends relates the carry- 
 ing away of the poet to Tir-na-n-Og out under the waters of the 
 Atlantic, his return to the earth after a century had elapsed, and the 
 loss of his strength and manly beauty on his touching the earth. 
 
 All this shall be told in our succeeding volume. Meanwhile we pro- 
 ceed to show the connection which our story-tellers established between 
 our national saint, our national poet, and Cashel Cathedral, though 
 St. Patrick never superintended the laying on of one row of its stones, 
 and Oisin was in his grave about a century and a half before the holy 
 man commenced his labours. The building stands on an isolated rock 
 in a plain, and if our peculiar authorities are to be relied on, that large 
 mass of stone was bitten out of a mountain westward by the devil in 
 one of his fits of evil temper. Flying away with it between his teeth, 
 he was obliged by some holy personage to drop it into its present posi- 
 tion, to be a stance for the future sacred building. 
 
 THE ROCK OF CASHEL. 
 When St. Patrick was building the great church on the 
 Bock of Cashel, the workmen used to be terribly annoyed, 
 for whatever they put up by day was always found knocked 
 down next morning. So one man watched and another 
 man watched, but about one o'clock in the night every 
 watcher fell asleep as sure as the hearth-money. At last 
 St. Patrick himself sat up, and just as the clock struck one, 
 what did he see but a terrible bull, with fire flashing from 
 his nostrils, charging full drive up the hill, and pucking 
 down every stone, stick, and bit of mortar that was put to- 
 gether the day before. " Oh, ho ! " says the Saint, " I'll 
 soon find one that will settle you, my brave bull/' Now, 
 who was this but Usheen (Oisin) that St. Patrick was striv- 
 ing to make a good Christian. Usheen was a very crooked 
 disciple. When he was listening to pious reading or talk, 
 his thoughts would be among the hunters and warriors of 
 
154 THE FrRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 his you tli, but hejoved the good Saint for his charity to 
 himself. The day after St. Patrick saw the bull, he up and 
 told Usheen all about what was going on. " Put me on a 
 rock or in a tree," says Usheen, " just by the way the bull 
 ran, and we'll see what we can do." So in the evening he 
 was settled comfortably in the bough of a tree on the hill- 
 side, and when the bull was firing away up the steep like a 
 thunderbolt, and was nearly under him, he dropped down 
 on his back, took a horn in each hand, tore him asunder, 
 and dashed one of the sides so hard against the face of .the 
 wall, that it may be seen there this day, hardened into 
 stone. There was no further stoppage of the work ; and in 
 gratitude they cut out the effigy of Usheen riding on his 
 pony, and it may be seen inside the old ruins this very day. 
 I think the black fellow did not covet a second visit from 
 Usheen. 
 
 A person pretending to have been on the rock, says there 
 is a rude mark, as of the side of an ox, on the outside of 
 one of the walls, and a knight mounted on a diminutive 
 quadruped in bas-relief within. 
 
 THE TREE OF THE SEVEN THORNS ON THE CURRAGH. 
 
 During the great plague and famine of 1439, there lived in 
 a castle near this hill one of the powerful O'Kellys. He 
 had several sons, of whom Ulick was his chief favourite. 
 The father was a hard-hearted, proud, and selfish man, and 
 the handsome Ulick was a compound of pride and licen- 
 tiousness. He had brought many young women to ruin 
 without scruple or remorse. Among these was the beauti- 
 ful and graceful Oonah More, whose lot was not so very 
 wretched, as she sincerely repented of her sin, and devoted 
 her remaining life to the solace and relief of the poor crea- 
 tures attacked by the pestilence. Her brothers, who ten- 
 derly loved her, and were keenly alive to the disgrace in- 
 flicted on the family honour, were on the point of seeking 
 out the betrayer and putting him to death, when they heard 
 that Providence had anticipated them. Ulick was seized 
 
THE TREE OF THE SEVEN THORNS. 15J 
 
 with the pestilence, and in spite of his wretched father's 
 remonstrances and prayers, removed in his hed to the side 
 of a field fence by his brothers. A shed was fixed over him 
 to keep out the rain and the sun, and a pitcher of water and 
 a griddle cake, marked with a cross, were left by his side. 
 
 Oonah heard of his pitiful state, and whether her Chris- 
 tian compassion was influenced by former feelings or not, 
 she came to his bedside, administered all the solace in her 
 power, and supplied every little convenience that might 
 alleviate his sufferings. Before her coming, his cries and 
 complaints were heard fields away, but from her first visit 
 no groans nor cries escaped him but such as were wrung 
 from him by excessive torture. For days and days she at- 
 tended on him, and succeeded, let us hope, in awakening 
 his soul to the sense of his past guilt, and the necessity of 
 true contrition. 
 
 One day the poor girl was observed sitting motionless, 
 with her face turned towards the bed. Scaldcrows were 
 flying about the shed and attempting to enter it, but were 
 continually driven away by a milk-white bird . When a 
 couple of days had gone by, and she was still seen in the 
 same position, and the carrion crows attempting to enter 
 under the shed, and the white bird still driving them away, 
 the neighbours drew near and called to her to come home. 
 But her soul had gone to its home in heaven. 
 
 They placed her body beside that of the repentant sinner, 
 they set fire to shed and all, and from the ashes sprung the 
 " Tree of the Seven Thorns/' which remained to modern 
 times. On its branches a white bird was continually utter- 
 ing melancholy notes, and never stirring from its perch at 
 the approach of man or woman. 
 
 LEGEND OF THE LOVER'S LEAP, IN THE DARGLE. 
 
 Mary, a capricious damsel of this neighbourhood, showed 
 some preference to one of her lovers named Edward, while 
 she was really attached to another. The first displayed 
 perhaps too much devotion to herself, and too much atten- 
 tion to her slightest wishes. One day she expressed a de- 
 
1$6 ' THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 sire for a certain kind of necklace, and Edward said he would 
 at once start to Dublin for it. She told him not to fatigue 
 himself, and not to think of returning that day. He was 
 too anxious to gratify his lady with the sight of the orna- 
 ment, and to display his own zeal, to allow himself such 
 indulgence. Late the same evening he was hurriedly pa- 
 cing along the bank high over the Dargle towards her house, 
 when on a mossy hillock he discovered her listening, with 
 every sign of loving interest, to the discourse of the secretly 
 favoured rival. He took out the necklace, laid it on the 
 grass before the frightened false one, walked rapidly to the 
 edge of the overhanging rock, and plunged down, smashing 
 bushes and shrubs in his descent. 
 
 However the young girl afterwards employed herself, 
 the dismal clang of the funeral bell of her destroyed lover 
 never left her ears. She took an intense dislike to the man 
 for whom she had deceived him, and by dint of ever dwell- 
 ing on his tragic fate she became insane. She haunted the 
 fatal spot, and at last, being under the strong delusion of 
 seeing her lover beckoning to her from the opposite side of 
 the ravine to come to him, she sprung from the fatal spot 
 and perished. Her spirit is still seen on the eve of St. John 
 traversing the fatal locality in the form of a milk-white fawn. 
 
 THE DISCOVE11Y OF MITCHELSTOWN CAVES. 
 
 Here is a legend which has already grown up round the 
 Kingston caverns, discovered some thirty-five years since. 
 
 A poor man, named Gorman, who laboured on the Kings- 
 ton estate between Cahir and Mitchelstown, observed one 
 day while quarrying, that, according as he loosed the stones 
 they fell into an underground cavity. Scrambling down 
 after them he became the discoverer of these caves, the 
 finest yet discovered anywhere. So much for the ground- 
 work; now for the embellishments. Gorman was a model 
 of a lazy philosopher of the cottier class. One day, when 
 he was pretending to be weeding his potato-plot, he heard 
 the bleating of a sheep, but there was neither sheep nor 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF MITCHELSTOWN CAVES. t^J 
 
 grass within the field. Examining diligently around he came 
 to an opening, and getting down through it he found a poor 
 sheep suffering with a broken leg. He lifted her up care- 
 fully, brought her to his cabin, and was about making mut- 
 ton of her ; but she looked so pitifully in his face that he could 
 not find it in his heart to draw her blood. His wife wash- 
 ed and tied up the limb, gave her provender, and the poor 
 animal soon could use the leg. In time she had two lambs. 
 The wool of the sheep and lambs resembled silk, and brought 
 four times the price of ordinary wool ; and in a reasonably 
 short time their lazy master became a comfortable farmer. 
 The venerable great grandmother who had brought this 
 luck into the family was grown old and useless, and it en- 
 tered the head of the ungrateful Gorman to kill her for St. 
 Martin's day. In vain his better dispositioned wife strove 
 to dissuade him from the thankless act. Kill her he would 
 next day. The morning came, and with it came the young 
 herd to Gorman's bedside. " Get up, master/' said he, 
 " every sheep on the pasture has gone away, and not a cru- 
 been of them can I find anywhere." Up he jumped and put 
 on his clothes, and to the fields with him without saying a 
 prayer, or even blessing himself. After a long chase he 
 came up with the sheep and drove them home ; but as they 
 passed the hole from which he had taken the first of them, 
 every one of them slipped into it, and he might as well have 
 thought of catching'last years snow as gripping one of their 
 fleeces. Down after them he went, but he found all empty, 
 and when the neighbours joined him with dipped rushes 
 and /angles [lighted cones of banded straw, the French 
 faineul], and looked about, they found the beautiful caves 
 with their alabaster pillars and ornaments. The sheep were 
 lost for ever. 
 
 LORD CLANCAHTY'S GHOST : 
 
 A LEGEND OF BLARNEY CASTLE. 
 
 A modern proprietor of Blarney Castle took the liberty of 
 cutting down various old trees which had shed honour on 
 the grounds for centuries. Having received the price of them 
 
IjS THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 in Cork, he returned home wet and weary, ate a hearty din- 
 ner in the " King of Sweden's room," warmed his inside 
 with a couple of tumblers of hot punch, and with the feel- 
 ings of a man who had done a good action, betook himself 
 to his arm-chair to enjoy a sleep. 
 
 At midnight he awoke and rung for his body-servant, 
 Thady, and immediately after, heard a heavy and stately 
 step on the grand stair-case. Looking towards the door, he 
 saw a gentleman enter in the costume of James IL's Court, 
 holding a gold-headed cane in his hand. He ceremoniously 
 saluted the proprietor, advanced to the window, and sor- 
 rowfully contemplated the trunks of the tine old trees cum- 
 bering the ground. 
 
 After a while, the last Lord Clancarty (for it was his 
 ghost) approached the frightened " sleeper awakened," 
 looked down on him sadly and sternly, and pointed with 
 his cane towards the dismal scene abroad. He then stamp- 
 ed on the floor and vanished. At the same moment the 
 castle shook, the bells began ringing, and every piece of 
 furniture in the room fell down. The poor man was co- 
 vered up with a mass of articles, and there he lay till 
 morning. Thady then entering, cried out for help. Help 
 came, and with some trouble the servants disencumbered 
 the body of the poor man ; and, by a good deal to do, he 
 was brought to consciousness, the ghost not intending his 
 death. However, he never ate another dinner, nor slept 
 another night in Blarney Castle. 
 
 From among local narratives of adventurers who brave the rage of 
 guardian cats, and hounds, and serpents, in pursuit of buried trea- 
 sures, we select one adventure which we have from oral authority. 
 
 THE TREASURE SEEKERS OF MAYNOOTH. 
 
 It is said that under the ruins of Maynooth Castle may 
 be found a cave from which a subterraneous passage ex- 
 tends to the old church-yard of Borreheen, some three 
 miles distant. Rich treasures are reported to lie within 
 
THE TREASURE SEEKERS OF MAYNOOTH. 1 59 
 
 this cave ; and some sixty years ago a dozen young men, 
 one of whom was lately alive, and related the exploit to 
 our informant, set to work to clear away the rubbish from 
 the entrance of the cavern. They worked away for two 
 nights, withdrawing every morning before the daylight 
 should reveal their proceedings ; and after unheard-of toil, 
 sinking a shaft, and then burrowing horizontally, they ef- 
 fected an opening into the vault. Just as they were clear- 
 ing away the last obstacle, they found a piece of an ancient 
 candle of an unhealthy yellowish hue, and a few minutes 
 later the breach was effected. A violent current of air then 
 rushed forth and extinguished all their candles. It brought 
 such a clayey sickly smell with it that they nearly fainted. 
 They lighted the candles again, but they were again blown 
 out on the instant. At this point of the proceeding, their 
 sentinel, who kept watch on upper earth, announced the 
 approach of light, and all agreed to separate till welcome 
 darkness fell on the old castle again. One of the party, 
 however, remained in the neighbourhood of their burrow, 
 to do what he could in case of the mining operation being 
 discovered. As ill-luck would have it, an unbribable fol- 
 lower of the Duke's came in his rambles through the ruins, 
 and stumbled on the fresh clay and the passage. He 
 made no delay in apprizing his master of the fact, and he 
 at once set a sufficient number of hands at work, to fill up 
 the aperture again. This was a great blow to the adven- 
 turers, who had been sure of getting at the hoard early in 
 the ensuing night. A watch w T as kept for some time after- 
 wards, to prevent any more tunnelling. The man who 
 brought home the candle remained convinced in mind, 
 that if they had lighted it they would have gained the 
 spoil. He lighted it several times, and from the rate at 
 which it burned he calculated that it w r ould have held out 
 for a week. This is a sufficiently flat tale of treasure-seek- 
 ing, but in the writer's judgment it is true in all its main 
 points. 
 
l6o THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF LOCH ERNE. 
 
 At some early period of Irish history, the region now co- 
 vered by this beautiful sheet of water was inhabited by 
 very wicked people. They were supplied with water from 
 a fine well sunk deep in the earth, and the upper part was 
 surrounded by a handsome circular frame of stonework. 
 A benevolent fairy king or queen had favoured the earlier 
 inhabitants by the grant of this spring- well, and the only 
 conditions were that they shonld never leave it uncovered. 
 The descendants of these good people proved a wicked race ; 
 and after many years their destruction approached. As a 
 woman who lived near the spring was filling her earthen 
 vessel one evening, she heard her child, who had been left 
 in the cradle, cry out pitifully. Forgetting the fairy's in- 
 junction, she snatched up her pitcher and ran home ; and 
 instant attention to the infant's wants, and afterwards some 
 pressing household concerns, put all connected with the 
 well out of her mind. Towards morning the inhabitants of 
 the valley were awakened, one after the other, by the chilly 
 plash of water rising round them as they lay on their beds. 
 Many were unable to escape at the low doors, as the surface 
 of the flood was already on a level with the lintels. All 
 the children and aged people perished ; and the legend does 
 not inform us whether the few vigorous sinners who suc- 
 ceeded in effecting their escape reformed their lives or not. 
 At the next rising of the sun his rays no longer fell on 
 houses, and gardens, and fields, but flashed instead on the 
 smooth surface of a long inland sea. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE RED EARL. 
 
 The ruins of Athassel (Ath Caisiol, castle at the ford), 
 stand where once flourished an extensive monastery. There 
 was a subterranean passage which conducted from it to 
 Castlepark on the other side of the Suir ; and when the 
 monastery was invested in the old troublous times, and 
 the inmates obliged to have recourse to this means of es- 
 cape, the most advanced of the fugitives were some distance 
 
THE DEATH OF THE RED EARL. l6l 
 
 on the east side of the river when the last were only quit- 
 ting the building. At this point, the abbot, who was among 
 the vanguard of the party, missed his richly-bound illumi- 
 nated breviary. There was no occasion, however, for any 
 one to return. The word w r as passed from front to rear, 
 and in a few minutes, the book being searched out by the 
 last man, was transferred from hand to hand till it reached 
 its owner. 
 
 In time the building and its dependencies became the 
 property of De "Burgho, the Red Earl, who was about as 
 tyrannical and as uncharitable a nobleman as ever trod on 
 Irish soil. One day a poor creature accosted him at his 
 gate, and begged for relief, as he was nearly perishing for 
 hunger and thirst. He spoke harshly to the beggar, and 
 bade him begone. " At any rate," said he, " allow the 
 servants to give me a draught of milk." " No." " Well, 
 water/' " Sot even water : the river is not far — go and 
 drink as much as you like from it." " Ah, then, my lord, 
 as great as you hold yourself now, it might happen that 
 you may perish yet for want of a drink of cold water." 
 The earl called his dogs, and set them on the poor man, 
 but they could not be induced to worry him ; and he saw 
 by the faces of those about him that they were far from 
 approving his harshness : so he turned into the courtyard. 
 
 Several years went by ; and on a very warm summer 
 evening the Earl found himself all at once very ill, and 
 afflicted with a violent thirst. He stretched himself on his 
 bed after some efforts to bear up against the attack, and 
 requested a draught of wine. All the vessels in the beau- 
 fet were examined, and not a drop found. The servant 
 thought that very strange, as he had seen abundance of it 
 there just after dinner. " Go to the cellar/' said the earl, 
 " and be quick about it." The poor fellow soon returned 
 with great fright on his features, but his flagon empty 
 " How's this I" cried the choking man ; " where' s the wine]" 
 " My Lord, there's not a drop to be got from a single barrel, 
 and they sound as empty as drums." The angry master 
 swore at the unfortunate man, and ordered two of his 
 fellows to go down, and not return without a drink for him. 
 His thirst became so terrible, that before they could return, 
 he dispatched others to the spirit casks. Still another de- 
 
1 62 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND. 
 
 lay. If he was able he would have followed them with a 
 whip ; but his limbs were powerless, and he was suffering 
 dreadful agony from excessive heat and thirst inside. " Go," 
 said he, as well as he could, " and let me have even a drink 
 of milk." Off went one or two more, but they were in no 
 haste to return. At last one was hardy enough to put in 
 his head and say, u Ah, my lord! the dairy vessels are 
 empty, and not a drop can be got from the cows." He 
 was now in the most extreme terror and rage, but after ut- 
 tering the word " water" with the greatest pain and diffi- 
 culty, he could not get out another syllable. 
 
 Several ran off at the moment to the Suir, which lay a 
 short distance to the east of the castle ; but when they 
 came to the bank, the bed of the stream was as dry as the 
 hearth where a fire has just been burning. Several had 
 joined the party, and all w T ere in wild confusion. They 
 threw up their hands, they ejaculated, they prayed, they 
 were at their wits' end. On a sudden they heard a noise 
 like the murmuring of a river on the west side of the castle. 
 Off they ran, and found a newly-made channel ; but the 
 sound of the rushing w T ater gradually growing faint, ceased 
 altogether, and they only caught a glimpse of the last shal- 
 low ripples making their escape down the slope when they 
 reached the margin. Some rushed after the retreating 
 treasure, but it was too speedy for them. Again they 
 paused ; and now the rush and gurgle were heard in the old 
 channel. Back they sped to find it dry, and to get anew 
 the sound of the flow from the west side. Half of the 
 crowd returned to the other course, and they all heard the 
 rush of the river somewhere between them. They ran, each 
 in the direction of the other body, and now they filled 
 their vessels with ease from the welcome stream. They 
 raised a shout, and ran to the castle ; as they entered they 
 heard their joyful cries answered from the dairy, from the 
 byres, and from the cellars. The dying man heard the joy- 
 ful tumult rushing up the turret stairs, and as the earliest- 
 arrived entered the chamber, they beheld the convulsed 
 features of their master in the last agony. His looks were 
 eager, and he made a feeble motion towards them with his 
 arm ; but before the bed was reached, the arm had dropped 
 motionless, and his sufferings in this life were over. 
 
[ t6 3 ] 
 
 NOTES AND ILLUSTKATIONS. 
 
 Hairy Eouchy ; p. 3. 
 
 The ch in the surname of this heroine must get a guttural sound as 
 in all Irish words where it occurs, c and G never get the soft sound 
 which belongs to them in such English words as rancid, gem, &c. In 
 the tying of the three smalls, her waist, her wrists, and her legs above 
 the ancles were secured. 
 
 In several of the household narratives of Teuton and Celt there 
 was a profusion of bloodshed, and very small regret for maiming or 
 killing outright. Were our labours of a purely archaeological nature, 
 we should not spare our readers a single horror of the many with which 
 this class of fireside traditions abound. But we prefer cultivating for 
 our little selection a popularity among folk whose joys are many, and 
 years few, and to whom even the rough Juvenal declared that the 
 greatest reverence should be paid. Therefore let our critics forgive 
 us for using some of our materials with reserve, and relating deeds of 
 cutting, thrusting, and gashing "with a difference." 
 
 Some forms of this present tale are of a decidedly truculent charac- 
 ter. There is a variety of it in Campbell's West Highland Tales 
 under the title of Maol a Chliobain, and another in Dasent's Norse 
 Tales, where the heroine is called Tatterhood. 
 
 The professional story-tellers delighted in verbal repetitions at dif- 
 ferent points of the story, nor did even the good Homer despise them. 
 They afforded intervals of rest. Economy of space is essential to our 
 design and therefore we cannot indulge in them. However, when 
 these stories are read out for children it will be found advisable to give 
 all these repetitions without stint. The MishS of the heroine will re- 
 mind scholars of the Outis [no one] of Odysseus. 
 
 A Legend of Clever Women ; p. 9. 
 
 The original compiler of this tale probably intended to question the 
 wisdom of folks who delight in working out simple ends by compli- 
 cated and difficult processes, such as that of promoting the happiness 
 of a country by getting five-eighths of its able-bodied men killed in 
 battle, or by the ordinary hardships of warfare. It is found in German 
 collections under the titles — Kluge Else [Clever Bessy], Klugen Leute 
 [Clever People], and Der Frieder und das Catherlieschen. Campbell 
 tells it in his " West Highland Tales " under the title The Three Wise 
 Men, and in another form as Sgire mo Chealag, which may be inter- 
 preted " The Parish of my Darling ; " it is also to be found in Gerald 
 Griffin's Works. The Italian Tale, Bardiello, belongs to the same 
 class. 
 
1 64 NOTES. 
 
 The Twelve Wild Geese, p. 14. 
 
 The grouping of the white snow, the black raven, and the red blood, 
 was put in requisition at an early period of story-telling. It is found 
 in the old Cymric tale of Peredur, the original of "Sir Percival of the 
 Round Table,' 1 also in the old Irish tragic tale of "The Sons of Uis- 
 neach," from which MacPherson extracted Darthula. The German 
 counterparts are Die Zwolf Briider [The Twelve Brothers], Bruderchen 
 und Schwesterchen [The Little Brother and Little Sister], Die Skben 
 Raben [The Seven Ravens], Sneewittchen [Snow-white], Marienhivd 
 [The God-child of the Blessed Virgin]. In Dasent's Norse Tales 
 the story is called " The Twelve Wild Ducks." In some of these 
 stories a part only of our story is preserved. Among the Wends, 
 [Wanderers] a people of Gallicia, it is called Die Pathenschaft der 
 Heiligen Maria [synonymous with 3IarienJcind], 
 
 The Wonderful Cake; p. 19. 
 
 One good feature in the household tales of the Aryan peoples is the 
 attention paid to the sayings and doings of the animal world. The 
 characters of most of the individuals introduced are marked by grati- 
 tude, and their exertions in behalf of their humane friends cannot be 
 surpassed for earnestness and energy. In the earliest shape of the 
 stories, these were all divinities in disguise. The essence of the legends 
 escaped the story-tellers in time, but they retained the form. Many 
 a young person must have beeen disposed by the hearing of these tales 
 to treat the birds and beasts about them with due tenderness. These 
 remarks are not so applicable to the present piece of extravagance as 
 to other specimens of fireside stories. 
 
 The False Bride ; p. 21. 
 
 Such tales as we are engaged with, stood in their original form 
 thoroughly distinct from each other : but in the lapse of generations 
 a part of one would be joined to a portion of another to make a se- 
 parate story. Perhaps in the whole collection of Aryan folk-lore 
 there is not to be found thirty per cent of purely distinct plots. In 
 the present small collection it is hoped that there will not be found 
 many repetitions. The German varieties of the present tale are Die 
 Ganzemagd [The Goose-Girl], Bruderchen und Schwesterchen, Die 
 Drei Mannlein im Walde [The Three Dwarfs in the Wood], Die 
 Weisse und die Srhwarze Brant [The Fair and the Dark Bride]. In 
 Dasent's Collection it is called " Bushy Bride." 
 
 The End of the World ;p. 25. 
 Many light and apparently useless seeds are carried by their downy 
 wings to foreign fields, while the acorn drops at the foot of the oak. 
 Foxy Coxy is or was a familiar acquaintance with the peasantry from 
 Cape Clear to Ulmea at the very end of the Gulf of Bothnia, yet how 
 few individual peasants ever heard of the grave works of Buckle or 
 Malthus S 
 
NOTES. 1 6 j 
 
 The Three Gifts ; p. 25. 
 
 The cudgelling scene in this story used to give as much pleasure to 
 the younger portion of fireside audiences as the marriage of Pamela 
 did to the Windsor folk, who heard her story from beginning to end 
 at a smithy during successive nights. It is met with among the 
 Hindoos (somewhat disguised) by the name of " The Jackal, the 
 Brahmin, and his Seven Daughters;" in the Norse Tales as "The Boy 
 that went to the North Wind ;" and in Italy as " The Woodman." 
 Gerald Griffin has also told the tale, and Crofton Croker has embalm- 
 ed it in his " Hungry Hill." 
 
 The Unlucky Messenger ; p. 30. 
 
 The following apologue in motley belongs to the family of fiction 
 which claims " I'll be wiser next time " as a member. It illustrates 
 the folly of expecting good management from an incapable person, 
 however judicious may be the instructions given to him. He follows 
 the rule laid down for him without taking circumstances into account. 
 The other moral inculcated is the same as that in the fable of the man, 
 his son, and their ass. Under a grotesque exterior many a one of the 
 household tales conveyed an excellent lesson of practical wisdom. 
 
 The Maid in the Country Under Ground ; p. 33. 
 
 This is one of the many household tales in which grateful animals 
 figure. Another good specimen is preserved in the " Legendary Fic- 
 tions of the Irish Celts " under the title of " Jack and his Comrades." 
 Shakspeare or his authority borrowed the idea of the Three Caskets 
 from some early variety of the story. The sentient and speaking tree 
 testifies to the nature-worship of the pagan times from which the 
 greater portion, if not all, of these fictions have come down to us. 
 The Continental versions are the German Fran Holle, Die Zwei Brihdcr, 
 Die Drei Mannlein im Walde ; "The Girl at the Well," and "The Step- 
 sisters" in the Norse collection. The ancient Irish believed that the 
 abode of the blessed, Tir na n-oge, w T as within the earth ; the Greeks 
 and Bomans had their subterranean elysium, and we find the idea pre- 
 served in this old fireside tale and in the Three Crowns in the " Le- 
 gendary Fictions of the Irish Celts." 
 
 Jack the Cunning Thief ; p. 38. 
 
 The title of this tale is the worst feature in it. Unlike the greater 
 portion of modern rogue literature, it is not calculated to urge young 
 folk to a breach of the decalogue. The curious will find other versions 
 of Jack in " The Master Thief" of the Norse collection, and in the 
 " Shifty Lad " of Campbell's " West Highland Tales." It is also to 
 be found in one of Gerald Griffin's stories. 
 
 The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener ; p. 47. 
 
 The name Greece is spelled in our vernacular Greig, hence the pecu- 
 liarity of the name in this story. The editor has heard the country so 
 named on more than two or three occasions near the Wexford moun- 
 
1 66 NOTES. 
 
 tains. He hopes to escape blame for allowing his fireside chronicler 
 to send his characters dry-shod from Spain to Greece via Morocco. 
 He has heard few foreign countries mentioned at Bantry or Duffrey 
 firesides, except France, Spain, Greece, Denmark. Norway, and 
 Moroco. The phrase " Through them with the boy till he got intothe 
 stable," p. 51, is idiomatic for " The boy went through them," &c. 
 In foreign versions of the story, the elder brothers kill the youngest as 
 they are returning, and dispute about the princess when they arrive. 
 But the fox revives his favourite, and the traitors are punished. In 
 Russian collections the story goes by the title, " The Fire Bird and 
 the Grey Wolf," and a variety of it is called the Czarewitsch Ljubini's 
 Adventures. It also appears as Mac Iain Direach [Son of John the 
 Upright] in the West Highland Tales. 
 
 The Giant and his Royal Servants ; p. 56. 
 
 The pursuit in this tale forms part of the story of "The Three 
 Crowns " in " The Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts." The 
 whole tale is the same in substance as the late Wm. Carleton's "Little 
 house under the Hill," in which the rich comic power of the writer was 
 displayed. The present editor found it easier to adopt the seriou 
 tone of the story as orally received, than to rival the vis comica o 
 the author of "The Poor Scholar." It is told in Russia under the name 
 of King Kojata, in Poland as Madey, in Hungary as " The Glass Hat- 
 chet," and in Germany as Der Trommler [The Drummer]. In the 
 Norse collection it is called "The Master Maid," and in the " West 
 Highland Tales " The Battle of the Birds ;" the versions more or less 
 differing from each other. 
 
 The Lazy Beauty and her Aunts; p. 63. 
 
 In Grimm's collection this story is called Die Drei Spinnerin, and 
 
 a portion of it is found in Rumpelstiltschen. The Italian tales "The 
 Seven Slices of Bacon," and " Goatsface," bear a strong resemblance 
 to it. In the Norse collection it is entitled " The Three Aunts." Mrs. 
 Ellen Fitzsimon furnished Duffy's Fireside Magazine with a charming 
 variety of it under the title of " The White Hen." 
 
 GlLLA NA GRUAGA DONNA j p. 67. 
 
 A version of this tale is told in Germany under the title of Die 
 drei Soldaten [The Three Soldiers]. 
 
 Shan an Omadhan ; p. 71. 
 
 J. F. Campbell has preserved a version of this story in his most 
 valuable collection, "The West Highland Tales" under the title, Mae 
 an Rusf/aich [Son of the Skinner]. It would appear that the Bodach 
 was guilty of a solecism in the construction of his order. Staidhear do 
 chosaibh na gcaorach would be " a path for the sheep's feet ; " Stai- 
 dhear le cosaibh na gcaorach, a path with the sheep's feet. For neglect- 
 ing the trifling difference between the two expressions, Shan made 
 
NOTES. 167 
 
 him suffer. The sheep's eye in the Bodach's meaning was a look ex- 
 pressive of mutual intelligence, or of wishing for something. Shan 
 understood it in the sense which served his own purpose. 
 
 The Princess in the Cat-skins ; p. 81. 
 This tale will be at once recognized as a variety of Cinderella in 
 the French repertory. The German versions are called Allerleirauk, 
 [Rough altogether] and Ashenputtel [Covered with Ashes]. In the 
 Norse tales the heroine is " Kattie Wooden-cloak." Campbell calls 
 her fairy friend A'Chaora Biorach Ghlas [The Sharp Grey Sheep]. The 
 Italians have a variety under the title of "The She-Bear." 
 
 The Well at the World's End ; p. 87. 
 
 This story is a relative of The White Cat in the printed fairy tales, 
 and of " The Water of Life" among the Germans. " The Sick Queen'' 
 in the West Highland Tales has a slight connexion with it. 
 
 The Poor Girl that became a Queen ; p. 91. 
 
 This is rather a lesson of conduct under a grotesque disguise than 
 a mere household tale. The German version is called Die Kluye 
 Bauerntochier [The Clever Peasant Girl]. 
 
 The Grateful Beasts ; p. 95. 
 
 Stories of this class are abundant in the folk lore of every people. 
 They give evidence of animal worship having been contemporary with 
 their invention, and in their preservation they display the genial 
 kindly feeling towards all created beings, prevailing among groups of 
 country people met to relax after their daily labours. The Mongols 
 tell a story similar to this and under the same title. The corresponding 
 stories told in "Russia are the Czareicitsch [Czar's son] Ljubim, "The 
 Fire Bird and the Grey Wolf;" in Hungary, "The Grateful Animals" 
 and Pen go ; in Italy, Gagliuso, [Puss in boots] and The Jewel in the 
 Cock's Head ; in Germany, Die Zivei Briider [The Two Brothers] ; in 
 India, " The Woodman's Daughter ;" among the Wends, (N. E. 
 Prussia), Der Krieg des Wolfe* und cles Fachses, [The War between 
 the Wolf and the Fox]. 
 
 The Gilla Rua ; p. 98. 
 
 In Italian collections a near relation of this story is entitled Signor 
 Scarpacifico. In the Norse Tales it figures as " Big Peter and Little 
 Peter." In The West Highland Tales it is represented by " The 
 Three Widows" and " The Poor and Rich Brother." In " Holland 
 Tide," by Gerald Griffin, it is called " Owny and Owny na Peak." 
 S. Lover contributed a variety of it to an early number of the "Dublin 
 University Magazine," with the title "Big Fairly and Little Fairly." 
 Cahlr na Goppal [Charley of the horses] was a noted horse-stealer, who 
 used the lower story in the ruined castle of Leix near Portarlington, 
 for stables. See the chap-book entitled, "The Irish Rogues and 
 Rapparees." 
 
1 68 NOTES. 
 
 The Fellow in the Goatskin ; p. 103. 
 The descents made by Hercules, and Theseus, and our hero into hell, 
 are probably modifications of a myth that was current in Central Asia 
 before the Pelasgi made their first settlement in Northern Greece. 
 The correct style of the name is Giolla na Chroiceann Gobkair. The 
 fireside chronicler overlooked the fact of the King of Dublin being a 
 Dane himself, and as such, in no dread of an attack by his countrymen. 
 In a Flemish tale, Fourteen Man, by whose side the Irish youth is a 
 dwarf, also pays a visit to the infernal regions, and astonishes the na- 
 tives not a little. In the Polish story of Madey, a fine young boy 
 goes down to recover a parchment signed by his father. On his return 
 he converts a dreadful miscreant by describing the peculiar punishment 
 preparing for him. " Yellow Bellies," a favourite nickname for Wex- 
 fordians, was given to them (by their own account) by Queen Eliza- 
 beth, when with yellow silk scarfs round their bodies, they won a 
 hurling match in her presence. The free-spoken woman, rapping out 
 a mouthful of an oath, protested " These Yellow Bellies are the finest 
 fellows I've ever seen." 
 
 The Haughty Princess; p. 114. 
 
 Modifications of this story are to be found in all popular collections. 
 Shakespeare had an old English version in his mind when he began 
 " The Taming of a Shrew." Probably Tobin looked for no higher 
 authority than Shakespeare for the outline of his " Honeymoon." The 
 conclusion of our tale resembles that of Gruelda, which Chaucer bor- 
 rowed from Boccaccio, who himself had borrowed it from the Norman 
 Trouveres. These gay minstrels did not invent the plot any more 
 than their imitators. They found it current in the oral literature of 
 their day. In the collection of the Brothers Grimm, the domestic 
 reformer is called Konig Drosselbart [King Thrushbeard or Throat- 
 beard] . 
 
 Doctor Cure-all; p. 116. 
 
 In the German collection this worthy is called Dohtor Allwissend 
 [Doctor Know-every-thing] . Moliere founded his comedy of Le 
 M(fdecin malgre lui [The Doctor in spite of himself] on an early ver- 
 sion of the present tale long current in France, and seized on by the 
 Trouveres before him. In the Gallic form, a rustic, being compelled 
 to prescribe for a princess, effects her cure, and rather to his own sur- 
 prise. All the sick of the city crowd next day to the palace to be 
 healed, and the king orders the unwilling practitioner to go into the 
 large hall where all are assembled, and put them out of pain. He 
 enters, makes a speech to the infirm crowd, and promises an imme- 
 diate cure, but then the greatest sufferer must allow himself to be 
 roasted for the general good. His ashes taken on water are to be the 
 specific. However no one would acknowledge himself to be ill on 
 such terms. They make their escape by twos and threes, every one 
 declaring to the king as he passes out that he has been miraculously 
 
NOTES. 169 
 
 restored to ^health, thanks to the royal physician. Of course the 
 learned man quickly ascends to the top of his profession. 
 
 The Wise Men of Gotham; p. 119. 
 
 A locality in one of the eastern shires of England would seem to 
 claim these sages among its notabilities, but every country, almost 
 every district, has its Gotham, to whose inhabitants everything which 
 combines silliness with gravity is attributed by their neighbours. 
 Some years since a book made up of such exploits from Hindoo 
 sources, and entitled " The Surprising Adventures of the Venerable 
 Gooroo Simple and his Five Disciples," was published by Messrs. 
 Triibner. They appear to have been selected from the Hitopadesa 
 by Father Beschi, and translated into the Tamul language in the 
 early part of last century for the use of pupils. Father Beschi was 
 one of the most learned, benevolent, and successful of Indian mission- 
 aries. The Tamul is spoken in the southern part of the Peninsula. 
 Two of Grimm's stories, Der Gute Handel [The Profitable Bargain] 
 and IIa7is im Gluck [Jack in Luck], resemble our tale in some re- 
 spects. The early story-tellers, in order to interest their audiences for 
 the time, and flatter their self-esteem, would tell similar stories, laying 
 the scene in a neighbouring locality, whose inhabitants laboured 
 under the dislike or contempt of the listeners. 
 
 The Good Boy and the one that Envied Him; p. 122. 
 
 This and the next two tales, and " The Music of Heaven," are 
 among the apologues selected from the current household fictions of 
 ancient times, and read for the inhabitants of religious houses when 
 at their meals, or introduced by preachers into their sermons. The 
 Trouveres converted " The choice of Three Evils" into a rather unedi- 
 fying story, by their mode of telling it. " The Good Boy, &c.," is 
 the subject of Schiller's Poem of The Road to the Foundry, so beauti- 
 fully illustrated by Retsch. Johannes a Voragine, Bishop of Genoa, 
 in the latter half of the thirteenth century, embodied most of the 
 moral legends to which he had access in his Legenda Aurea [Golden 
 Legends]. No clergyman of our days would venture on reciting to 
 his congregation many of those tales once considered rather edifying, 
 or as the name Legenda imports, " Things useful to be read." " The 
 Music of Heaven ' has always appeared to us one of the finest, if not 
 the very finest, of all the saintly legends. " The Birth and Baptism 
 of St. Mogue" and " The Greedy Mason" are fair specimens of the 
 use which our old storytellers made of incidents in the lives of the Irish 
 saints. In our old pagan lore a wonderful cow cuts an imposing 
 figure. The daily restoration of the slain and eaten animal was a 
 household incident among the Norse gods of Asgard, the boar afford- 
 ing a supper to Odin and the other divinities, and enjoying buxom 
 life the next day. 
 
 HOW DONN FlKINNE GOT HIS HOESE SHOD ; p. 131. 
 
 This pagan story was too curious to be neglected by the tamperers 
 
I/O NOTES. 
 
 with the lives of saints. So they feigned St. Eloi, the skilful worker 
 in metals, to be much puffed up with pride of skill, and an angel thus 
 curing him of his spiritual malady. Coming mounted to his forge, 
 he fashioned a shoe, pulled a leg out of his steed, shod the hoof, put 
 the limb back in its place, made the beast go through his paces as 
 well as if no operation had been performed on him, and asked the 
 saint could he do such a thing. Of course he could (in his own con- 
 ceit), but when he tried the experiment on a steed of his own, and 
 saw the life-blood gushing out, and the poor beast at the point of 
 death, he humbly besought pardon for his presumption, and obtained 
 it. The angel assumed his ethereal form, administered spiritual com- 
 fort, and then vanished. 
 
 Cliona of Munster; p. 133. 
 
 For the legend of this powerful Fairy Queen, see the Dublin Uni- 
 versity Magazine for November, 1870, the outlines of the story having 
 been taken from a MS. obligingly lent to the compiler by W. M. 
 Hennessy, Esq., M.R.I. A. The legend of the Red Druid is intended 
 for publication in the forthcoming u Bardic Stories of Ireland." Pro- 
 bably the threatening rhapsody dashed in Cliona's face by the hand- 
 some young witch was as little intelligible to her as it will prove to 
 our readers. " The Birds speaking to the border of the Foxes" must 
 have inflicted no small degree of fright on her. The wildly attired 
 maiden had surely heard in some way the equivalent of Omne ignotum 
 pro terribile. Cliona and our other fairy queens detained Irish youths 
 in their Sighe palaces, as Calypso and Circe did the comely hero of 
 the Odyssey, ages before their day. 
 
 The Fairy-Stricken Servant ; p. 139. 
 
 There were probably stories current among the country folk of 
 Italy and Greece in which the Lares and Penates, or their representa- 
 tives, punished or rewarded domestics according as they showed them- 
 selves negligent and slovenly, or the reverse. These household gods 
 and the corresponding divinities of other countries have survived to 
 our own times as fairies, brownies, Shakespearian lubber-fiends, &c. 
 The fragments of food and the drinks spared to the fairies continue 
 the libations made by the ancient pagans to the gods. If reapers 
 and mowers neglect to spare scraps from their open-air repasts, the 
 fairies leave a curse on the spot, which afterwards produces the fenr 
 gorthach (hungry grass). Whoever inadvertently crosses the doomed 
 strip of verdure, falls down and perishes in a short time from mere 
 weakness, unless he is discovered and given some food and drink. 
 Wm. Carleton treated this superstition in detail in one of his stories. 
 
 The Fairy Rath of Clonnagowan ; p. 141. 
 
 This and the next legend have been communicated to us by an 
 unimaginative lady, a native of the locality. The Love Philtre, p. 145, 
 is from the MSS. of my lamented friend, John Windele of Cork. 
 
NOTES. I 7 T 
 
 The Enchanted Cat of Bantry ; p. 149. 
 
 In the volume of the Transactions of the " Historical and Archaeo- 
 logical Association of Ireland" for 1868, and at pages 187 et seq. this 
 legend will be found at full length. Its appearance in print dates 
 from the middle of the sixteenth century. William Baldwyn the 
 writer, asserted that as he was spending a night in company with 
 Master Ferrers, master of the revels to King Henry viii., Master 
 Willot his astronomer, and Master Streamer his divine, this latter 
 related the story of the Cat as having been told him while on a visit 
 in the county of Vvashford at the house of a churle of Fitzheries 
 (Fitzharris). We are indebted for the legend to Robert Malcomson, 
 Esq., in whose possession the unique old volume rests. The present 
 w r riter has ventured to give an English explanation of the language 
 of the cat, who, as is only reasonable to suppose, miawed in the native 
 tongue, and was from the beginning of the tragedy bent on annoying 
 the strangers. Non-Irish scholars will please pronounce Is in the 
 explanation as if spelled Iss. 
 
 The Glounthaun is a hollow through which the road to New Ross 
 runs. It is considered an eirie spot by the Bantry folk. 
 
 The Mitchelstown Caves ; p. J 56. 
 
 The sheep in this tale are distant relatives to the sea cattle on 
 Dursey island, on the Munster coast. These suspecting evil designs 
 on the part of their keeper, repaired to their native element, leaving 
 stone effigies of themselves on the shore. 
 
 The Death of the Red Earl; p. 160. 
 
 Ath Caislol would be better explained by "The Ford of (or near) 
 the Castle," but for the name being applied to the building, not to 
 the river-pass. 
 
 Any of our readers who wish for a closer acquaintance with fo- 
 reign folk lore, may enjoy it, provided they understand German, by 
 consulting the following authorities : — 
 
 For German Stories reference may be made to the collection of 
 the Brothers Grimm, of which an edition was published at Berlin in 
 1822, and another at Gottingen in 1843. There are many separate 
 collections of German household tales, for mention of which we can- 
 not afford space. 
 
 For Hindoo Stories, Dr. Herman Brockhaus's selections from the 
 Amadeva Bhatta of Cashmere, published at Leipzig, 1843, and " Old 
 Deccan Days ; Hindoo Fairy Legends current in Southern India," 
 collected by Miss M. Frere, Murray, 1868 ; also, " Vikram and the 
 Vampire," edited by the great traveller R. Burton, 1869. In this 
 collection the stories are told by a Vampire to King Vickraniaditya, 
 who is carrying him from a burial ground to a magician, in order to 
 convert him to a certain use. If the King happens to answer any 
 
1/3 NOTES. 
 
 question which the Vampire insidiously proposes to him at the end 
 of each tale, the cunning fellow escapes from his wrapping cloth, and 
 goes back to his place, and the King is obliged to return and impri- 
 son him again, and another tale follows. Professor Theodor Benfey 
 published at Leipzig in 1859 a translation into German of the Hin- 
 doo Tales found in the Hitopadesa [Good Advice], and the Pancha- 
 tantra [Five Books], under the title, Panchatantra, Funf Bucher 
 Indischen Fdbeln, Mdrchen und Erzahlungen [Five Books of Indian 
 Fables, Tales, and Stories]. There is a French paraphase of these 
 stories by M. Dubois ; Paris, 1826. 
 
 For Hungarian Stories see Saal's collection, Vienna, 1820 ; 
 Magyar Sagas and Stories by Johann Grafen Maylath ; Stuttgart 
 und Tubingen, 1837. 
 
 For Italian Stories, — The Cento Novelle Antiche, a mixture of 
 Saracen, Hispano-Moorish, and Eastern tales, and of those told by 
 the French Trouveres ; Straparola's Le Tredici Piacevolissime Notte 
 [The Thirteen Very Pleasant Nights], 74 in number, and first pub- 
 lished at Venice in 1550 ; and the Pentamerone of Count J. B. Basile, 
 of Torone, a Neapolitan poet, who flourished in the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century. Basile's tales are related by a Moorish slave. 
 In Del Dialetto Napoletano, of Galiane, 1789, and in D'Affliito Memo- 
 He degli Scrittorl del Regno di Napoli of Eustach, i794> will be found 
 information concerning the last named writer and his works. 
 
 For Mongol Tales we give reference to a German version of 
 Benjamin Bergmann's '* Nomad "Wanderings among the Kalmucs in 
 1802-1803," printed at Riga in 1804 ; as well as Lehmann's Magazin 
 der Litteratur des Auslandes [Magazine of Foreign Literature], 1838. 
 The frame-work is the same as that of Burton's " Vickram and the 
 Vampire." A young Khan, for expiation of his sins, has to fetch the 
 vampire Ssidl Kiir from the burial ground, and every time he gives a 
 wrong answer to the question proposed to him at the end of each tale, 
 the vampire escapes, and the Khan's labour begins anew. 
 
 Of Polish Household Tales, K. W. Moncicki made a collection, 
 and F. W. Lewestan published a German Version at Berlin in 1839. 
 
 The Russian Fireside Tales were translated into German, and 
 published at Leipzig with a preface by Jacobus Grimm in 1831. 
 Johannes R. Vogel published another German version of them in 
 Vienna, in 1841. The best collection in the original Russ is the 
 Nowosselje. Moscow abounds in chap-books of the land. 
 
 The best Scandinavian Legends of the Fireside are Arndt's Selec- 
 tion, Berlin, 1842, and a collection in a poetical form made by 
 Afzelius, entitled Svenska Folk Visor, [Swedish Folk Stories], and 
 issued at Stockholm in 18 14, 18 16. A German edition of this wRh 
 a preface by Ludwig Tieck was published in 1842 at Leipzig. The 
 latest collection by Asbjornsen and Moe has been given to the Eng- 
 lish reading public by G. W. Dasent, under the title of " Norse Tales." 
 
 The Wendish Tales were published under the title Vollcslieder der 
 Vitnden [Folk-lore of the Wends], by Von Leopold Haupt and Joh. 
 Ernst Schmaler, at Grim ma, 1843. 
 
[ '73 ] 
 
 GLOSSAEY. 
 
 The correctly spelled Irish words are printed in Italics. In these the hard sounds 
 are to be given to c and g, and the final vowels to be heard. 
 
 Aoife : Eve, a woman's name. 
 
 Aoibhil : all lovely. 
 
 Banacht Lath : beanachd teat, a blessing with you. 
 
 Bawjst (before explained) has its root in bo, cow, being the enclosure 
 
 in which cattle were gathered in the old disturbed times. 
 Bodach (same root), originally meaning a grazier, has come to desig- 
 nate a churl, a purse-proud, ignorant person. 
 Bodher (buidre deafness, bodhraim I deafen): annoyance. "Moi- 
 
 dher " is another form of the word. 
 Boorawn : a domestic utensil for carrying meal or corn — a tambourine 
 
 enlarged, has the same root owing to its drum-like sound when 
 
 struck. 
 Brishe (prise, a breach ; fr. briser, to break) : smash, debris. 
 Bresna : brosna, a bundle of sticks or brushwood intended for fuel. 
 Cashel (cios tribute, all rock) : rock of tribute. Cashel was the 
 
 ancient capital of Munster. 
 Cannat : probably from Ceannaidhe, a dealer, peddler, such folk being 
 
 considered the reverse of simple or upright. The " canny sugach " 
 
 (jolly packman) was a welcome, though not much trusted, visitor at 
 
 farm-houses. 
 Cliona : beautiful. 
 Cloncurry (cluan a pasture, currach a race-course or marsh) : the 
 
 marshy meadow, or meadow in the marsh. 
 Cooramuch {coirm or cuirm banquet, cuirmeach festive) : comfortably 
 
 social. 
 Coshering (cosltair feast, bed) : living at a neighbour's expense. 
 Cuggering (cumhgairin, I convoke ; comligair rejoicing, convoking, 
 
 convenience) : holding confidential conversation with some one. 
 Dargle (dair oak, geal beautiful, dorcha dark). The reader may 
 
 assume the meaning to be "fair oaks," or " fair-shade, " the latter 
 
 equivalent to the " Beltenebros," of Don Quixote's library. 
 Gaum (gam gazing about) : a gaping, dawdling fellow. 
 GOMULA (gamaille) : a gowk, a simpleton. 
 Good People : didne matha, the fairies, said by way of propitiation, 
 
 Waverley students will recollect " the kind gallows of Crieff." 
 Googeen ( ge goose, ceann head, gugaille a talkative fellow) : a silly 
 
 person, a goose-cap. 
 GoRSOOiST : garsun, the French garcon, a boy. 
 Haggard (stackyard). Besides the Irish namas before quoted, there 
 
 is also adyort {adag a bundle of sheaves, cuirth a yard). 
 
1 74 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Ktppeen : ce'qrin, a dibble or planting stick. 
 
 Lewd : ladar, awkward, clownish, ashamed. 
 
 Moddheeeen Rua (madha or madkraclli a dog, ritadh red) : a fox. 
 
 Omadhawn, before explained, boasts the cognate word "moodan" in 
 Hindustani. 
 
 Oxter, Oscal (Uchd the bosom, staidheir (pr. stair), a step, a path) : 
 the armpit. The pass from the bosom. 
 
 Pishrogues (puhreog or pitheog t witchcraft) : magic spells. 
 
 Praskeen : praiscin, an apron, 
 
 RaMPIKE {reimshe staff) : a young tree stripped of its boughs and bark. 
 
 Sarra (sar contempt, disdain) : misfortune. Country folk sometimes 
 combine the idea with that of an evil spirit. 
 
 Sraumoges : sram, matter oozing from the eye-lids. 
 
 Sturk (sturrach rugged, stuirt pride) : an obstinate, disobliging person. 
 
 Sthronshuch (sthru, prodigality ; Strogh a rent) : a lazy good-for- 
 nothing fellow. 
 
 Shuchrawn (sugradh mirth, diversion) : state of dissipation and hope- 
 lessness (in modern slang •• being on the batter "). 
 
 Thuckeen {thoigheach loving, thocha love, thogliadh, chosen) : a pet 
 expression for a young girl. 
 
 %*% To Irish or corrupt words in the book not here explained, the 
 writer begs to refer to the glossaries of the three books mentioned in 
 the succeeding pages. A well-digested, most masterly, and useful 
 work on the names of Irish localities is Mr. Joyce's " Origin and 
 History of Irish Names of Places." Colonel James A. Robertson 
 has done good duty by Scotland in the same line. 
 
LEGENDABY FICTIONS OF THE IEISH CELTS. 
 
 By PATEICK KENNEDY. 
 
 Post 8vo., Cloth, Illustrations, 7s. 6d. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO. 
 
 > ■♦ + « < ■ 
 
 The Athenwum. 
 
 " As an author combining archaeological learning with a sly grave humour, we 
 commend Mr. Kennedy to the public, reminding the latter that to the scholar 
 and historian, the real value of the book lies in its archaeology. In the latter 
 department the author has rendered great services. . . . His book Will keep 
 his name young as an admirable Irish story teller." 
 
 The Spectator. 
 
 •'This is a very admirable selection of Irish Fairy Stories and Legends, fresh 
 and full of the peculiar vivacity, and humour, and ideal beauty, of the true Celtic 
 legend. . . . Mr. Kennedy has produced a beautiful and popular book." 
 
 The Dublin University Magazine. 
 
 "No writer ever came to his work armed with a shrewder and more philoso- 
 phic discrimination, with imagination and humour so in harmony with his 
 Subject, or with a more racy and admirable gift of narration. . . . He ap- 
 proaches the most grotesque and extravagant of Iris Celtic stories with the 
 veneration due to immense antiquity, and rude but undoubted national inspira- 
 tion; l)i him we admire not only an admirable story teller, but a man of quiet 
 and pleasant humour, and a sound and comprehensive scholar." 
 
 The Dublin Evening Mail. 
 
 " It would be unfair to Mr. Kennedy, to treat his work as merely an entertain- 
 ing collection of home tales. That it is, and much more. It is a vivid picture 
 of the ancient Celts in their interesting superstitions, customs, kindly sympathies, 
 and simple piety ; and much is due to the reverent hand of the painter, who lias 
 lent to it no false colour, but presented the stories in their truthful simplicity. 
 This will make his work a classic — one to stand beside the best books of folk- 
 lore-. We consider that he has laid Irishmen of every creed and class under an 
 obligation, by a work which will offend none, and please and instruct all. The 
 purest taste has presided over the selection andnarration of the stories." 
 
 The Limerick Chronicle. 
 
 " Since the publication of Crofton Croker's ' Legends ' and Keightley's ' Fairy 
 Mythology,' no such attractive work of folk-lore and household fiction has ap- 
 peared as the present. When we compare it with the above works, however, we 
 must decidedly give it the preference for the comprehensive variety and local 
 interest of its multifarious fairy tales, ghost stories, witchcraft, sorcery, fetches, 
 and diablerie of every kind. It will bring back to many of us the most pleasing 
 reminiscences of our childhood. At the same time the author's repertory has 
 been so well filled from all our archaeological stores, that the more learned and 
 fastidious reader will find something to attract his attention, and add to his stock 
 of knowledge. The book is in short quite a gem in its way." 
 
THE BANKS OE THE BOEO. 
 
 BY THE SAME WRITER. 
 
 Foolscap Octavo j 2s. Qd. free by post. 
 
 DUBLIN: M'GLASHAN & GILL, AND P. KENNEDY. 
 
 LONDON : BURNS, OATES, AND CO. 
 
 EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES AND CO. 
 
 > ♦ ♦ ♦ C 
 
 The Athenaeum. 
 
 " Under the cover of the tale, the author pourtrays scenes and incidents in 
 Irish life in a simple unpretending manner. ... On the thread of the story- 
 are hung illustrations of Irish life, legends, morals, and poetry, which are the 
 real staple of the book." 
 
 The Spectator. 
 
 " For the somewhat numerous class who like to look at nations through a mi- 
 croscope, and those who arc seeking to understand better many curious phase3 
 of Irish thought and feeling, this volume will have considerable interest." 
 
 The Dublin Evening Mail. 
 
 " Mr. Kennedy's picturesque sketches are as green, sunny, and vivid as a bit of 
 landscape from a true artist's pencil. The scenes are full of character and inno- 
 cent humour. The feature most marked in his sketches is the life which ani- 
 mates every page. We ask no truer painter of the Irish character, in its simpler 
 and tenderer aspects, than the author." 
 
 The Nation. 
 
 "Here is no exaggeration, no straining after effect, no outrageous caricatures 
 of the people. Yet a great amount of mirth and oddity is to be found in the 
 scenes, and the warmth and intensity of Irish feelings is well displayed. We are 
 taken to the wake, the dancing school, the hurling match, and the harvest-home, 
 where the wit and humour of the country-folk run on right merrily. The jokes 
 and the songs are often exceedingly comic." 
 
 The Irish Times. 
 
 " As a delineator of the people and their manners, the writer is perhaps unri- 
 valled. This present work is characterized by a quaint, sly humour, pungency, 
 and raciness. It is as remarkable for originality, for truthfulness, and simple 
 philosophy, as for its wealth of information concerning curious customs, local 
 traditions, and social gatherings, which the writer attaches to an interesting nar- 
 rative of quiet country life." 
 
 The Freeman! s Journal. 
 
 " This little work rescues from oblivion the household stories, manners, and 
 amusements of half a century since. The style is pure and as simple as the 
 habits the writer describes. Not the least interesting in the collection are the 
 songs and ballads of his youthful days." 
 
 The Irishman. 
 
 " In the Banks of the Boko we become a guest at the fireside of the comfort- 
 able farmer, and a confidant of the gossip that flows in fluent streams round his 
 bright heai-th. Episodes— racy, rollicking, and genial, and ballads of the real na- 
 tional type, are strung together on a string of fiction, as country children string 
 the wild flowers of the field." 
 
 The Kilkenny Moderator. 
 
 " We have here a tale racy of the Irish soil. All the scenes are clearly drawn 
 from nature, and the characters are the living counterparts of personages photo- 
 graphed in the memory of the writer. They are here produced with life-like 
 effect." 
 
EVENINGS IN THE DUFFKEY; 
 
 BY THE SAME WRITER. 
 Foolscap octavo ; 2s. 6d. free by post. 
 
 DUBLIN: M'GLASHAN & GILL, AND P. KENNEDY. 
 
 LONDON: BURNS, OATES, & CO. 
 
 EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO. 
 
 > ♦ <■ »<— 
 
 The Athenceum. 
 Attentive readers of these Evenings will be delighted with the faithful pic- 
 tures of rural life, and with the light which is thrown upon the customs <>f 
 country homes in Ireland. . . . They will see that a graceful wit pervades 
 the every-day conversation of the country-folk ; that they have deep religious 
 feeling, and even possess some knowledge of history. . . . The manners which 
 Mr. Kennedy depicts have not become obsolete. Long may they prevail ! for the.\ 
 are those of a simple, virtuous people. . . . Mr. Kennedy's present work 
 gives the reader a vivid picture of living Irishmen and women." 
 
 The Month. 
 
 "The course of the narrative introduces us into many an Irish home, and gives 
 us the details of their every day life. Love, simplicity, and a taste for the 
 vellous are all blended together just as they are in the lives of the peasai 
 with a free interchange of wit and practical jokes. But in nothing is the v. 
 more happy than in the thoroughly Catholic tone which he has unconsciously 
 imparted to all the acts and feelings of his characters. In pourtraying the su- 
 perstitions of country life, he shows how much of sprightly romance and poetrj 
 there is about them." 
 
 The Irish Times. 
 "Mr. Kennedy has depicted the social and domestic existence of his dramatis 
 persona? with such realistic minuteness, that those who desire to know what Ire- 
 land, at least the county of Wexford, was some quarter of a century before bha 
 great famine, will find much to their purpose in this work. The legends an 
 tremely interesting and well-told. The Usurer's Ghost and the Young Prophet are 
 amongst the most powerful we have read. In a different vein the tragi-comedy 
 of the Three Geese and the Earl of Stairs' Son are equally excellent." 
 
 The Scotsman. 
 " None of Mr. Kennedy's stories are of the rollicking order, but all are full of 
 good humour, fun, or pathos. Several ballads also occur in the volume, and some 
 of them are capital. The volume is one which probably conveys as good an 
 idea as can be got of the life of the industrious farmers and agricultural popula- 
 tion of Ireland." 
 
 The Nation, 
 " The author's tales and pictures recal and preserve the life and love of a pea- 
 santry at once loveable and loving, kindly, quaint, and contented. The indul- 
 gent landlord surrounded by his tenantry, patronising the sports of the pea- 
 santry, and reaping the reward of his kindliness and generosity in the undivided 
 affection of the people, is the centre of a charming picture." 
 
 The Dublin Evening Mail. 
 ''The remarkable simplicity of the tales, their quaintness and purity, will sus- 
 tain the character Mr. Kennedy has won for himself in his former works. With- 
 out exaggeration or colouring he represents the simple life of his countrymen 
 when quietly allowed to pursue their ordinary occupations." 
 
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