LIBRARY 
 
 University of Califomll 
 
 IRVINE
 
 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 SECOND SERIES
 
 LEGENDS AND STORIES 
 
 <- 
 
 OF 
 
 IRELAND 
 
 (SECOND SERIES) 
 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 BY 
 
 D. J. (TDONOGHUE 
 
 Author of 
 
 " THE LITE OF WILLIAM CABLETON " 
 
 "THE LIFE OF JAMES CLABENCE MANGAN" 
 
 "THE POETS OF IRELAND" 
 
 and editor of 
 
 " THE HUMOTJB OF IBELAND " 
 1 TBAITS AND STOBIES OF THE IBISH PEA8ANTBY," ETC 
 
 WESTMINSTER 
 
 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & Co. 
 
 2 WHITEHALL GARDENS 
 
 1899
 
 THOMAS MOORE, ESQ. 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 INSCRIBED, 
 AS A TRIBUTE OF ESTEEM AND ADMIRATION 
 
 FROM HIS FBIEND AND COUNTRYMAN, 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER.
 
 ADDRESS. 
 
 GENTLE READER, I send up my card, and I hope you 
 will not say you are "not at home." 
 
 It is some time since I paid you a visit, and you 
 received me then so well, though quite a stranger, that 
 I am tempted to hope you will not drop my acquaintance, 
 now that you know who I am. 
 
 It is no easy matter to have a card presented to you, 
 seated as you are in the Temple of Public Favour: 
 Critics are the lacqueys that line the hall leading to the 
 sanctuary, and it is not every one's card they will send 
 in ; while, sometimes, an unfortunate name gets so roughly 
 handled amongst them, as to be rendered quite illegible. 
 
 However, they were extremely obliging to me, the 
 last time I needed their good offices, and as I have 
 done nothing since to offend them, I hope they won't 
 keep me standing at the door, in these Easterly winds, 
 till I catch a Spring cough, though, I dare say, my 
 friends in the Row would be well pleased if I were 
 driven into a rapid consumption. 
 
 Be that as it may, I trust they will know me again 
 as I stand in the crowd, although a slight alteration 
 has taken place in my costume since last I appeared
 
 VIII ADDRESS. 
 
 before them. I then wore a caubeen, being only a raw 
 recruit, but as I was permitted, at once, to rise from 
 the awkward squad, and since then have been promoted, 
 on the strength of my first exercise, to the rank of 
 third edition, I gratefully carry the honour that has been 
 conferred upon me, and hope I may, for the future, be 
 permitted to wear the feather in my cap. 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 BARNY O'REIRDON, THE NAVIGATOR. 
 
 CHAP. I. Outward-bound 1 
 
 II. Homeward-bound 26 
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 59 
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS: A Legend of the 
 Boyne. 
 
 CHAP. 1 94 
 
 II. The Legend of the Little Weaver of 
 
 Duleek Gate: A Tale of Chivalry... 134 
 III. Conclusion of the White Horse of the 
 
 Peppers 151 
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE. Introduction 162 
 
 The Sheebeen House 164 
 
 The Curse of Kishogue ... 177 
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 187 
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL: A Zoological 
 
 Puzzle 217 
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 230 
 
 NOTES 269
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 HAVING already said all that is necessary of Lover's 
 "Legends and Stories" in the previous volume of this 
 edition containing the first series of that delightful work, 
 perhaps this opportunity should be made use of to deal 
 with the smallest, but not the less, interesting writings 
 of Lover given in the sixth volume of this edition. 
 
 The character sketches of Lover, there collected for 
 the first time, together with his " Illustrations of National 
 Proverbs" (which have never hitherto been reproduced in 
 any form), while not reaching his highwater mark, are 
 eminently worthy of preservation in a collected edition of 
 his stories. The sketches which are placed first in order in 
 the volume already referred to are those he wrote specially 
 for his "Irish Evenings'", as the entertainments which 
 he gave to crowded audiences in the United Kingdom 
 and America for many years were styled by him. The 
 idea of giving these entertainments was suggested to 
 him as a means of livelihood by the failure of his 
 eyesight, and his resourcefulness and enterprise were 
 thoroughly justified by the results obtained. For a good 
 many years he made a considerable income by these
 
 xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 "evenings", and popularised his works throughout the 
 Kingdom, among many who were very unlikely to have 
 read even his best-known books. Although, probably, 
 not the originator of the form of "drawing-room enter- 
 tainment" now so common, Lover certainly did more to 
 make it appreciated by the public than any one else, either 
 before or since his time. He had special faculties and 
 advantages in the line followed by him, a line not generally 
 improved upon by some subsequent imitators of the " society " 
 pattern, whose wit and musical taste are not too apparent. 
 In the first place his songs were very refined, never 
 at any time vulgar, and the airs set to them, whether 
 humorous or pathetic, are always in careful keeping with 
 the theme; and his sketches, nearly all overflowing with 
 the choicest humour, as indeed are a goodly number 
 of his songs, were rendered by him in a manner which 
 belonged almost exclusively to himself. His performance 
 was inimitable and irresistible. He told a story admirably, 
 and sang his own songs with a grace and charm and an 
 infectious humour which captivated the most stolid of 
 audiences. He was able, " off his own bat ", as it were, 
 to so vary his entertainments that one could visit 
 them constantly without ever feeling the least monotony 
 or apathy. Being a host in himself, as a skilful accom- 
 panist, reciter and singer, he did not find it necessary 
 to engage much assistance. Here is a personal descrip- 
 tion of him during the period when he was giving his 
 entertainments :
 
 INTRODUCTION XIII 
 
 " But who is that lively little gentleman whom every- 
 body is shaking hands with, and who shakes hands with 
 everybody in return? He is here, there, and everywhere, 
 chatting always delightfully, it would seem, and dis- 
 pensing smiles and arch looks to perfection. How his 
 black eyes twinkle, and what fun there is in his face ! 
 He seems brimful, and running over, with good humour, 
 and looks as if care never had or could touch him. And 
 then listen to his Milesian brogue ! Reader, perhaps 
 you have never heard an educated Irishman talk ! well, 
 if so, you have lost a treat; for nothing in the world 
 is more delightful, excepting only the soft melifluous, 
 tripping-over-the-tongue tattle of a pretty and well-in- 
 formed daughter of the Emerald Isle. That natty, 
 dear duck of a man, as the ladies might say, is an uni- 
 versal favourite everywhere. He is at once poet, painter, 
 musician and novelist. He writes songs, sets them to 
 music, illustrates them with his pencil, and sings them 
 as no one else can." 
 
 This description, by an appreciative American writer, will 
 give the admirer (I had almost said lover) of Lover's 
 works an excellent idea of his appearance in the forties. 
 
 Much of what he wrote for his entertainments is 
 necessarily of a topical or temporary nature, but it is 
 probable that all worthy of preservation is collected in 
 this edition. The humours of Dublin carmen have been 
 delineated by many pens, and Lover did not attempt to 
 do more than to hit off a few of their peculiarities, such as
 
 XIV INTRODUCTION 
 
 their seizure of passengers and the gamble for the privilege 
 of carrying them and their baggage. Of their wit he 
 does not pretend to give examples, and we may perhaps 
 be thankful for it, because the repartees would assuredly 
 have been apocryphal doubtless invented by himself 
 and tending to still further exaggerate the common error 
 that the Dublin carmen are wittier than other Irishmen. 
 The story of the Irish post-boy who drove along the 
 edge of a precipice without the linch-pin is very good 
 and very characteristic, and has been very badly told 
 by most modern collectors of Irish anecdotes. It is 
 well to have it in its authentic form. "Paddy at Sea" 
 is, however, the most amusing of the flotsam and jetsam 
 contained in the volume, as it was indubitably the best 
 of his entertainment sketches. "Paddy" is a kind of 
 "Handy Andy", and the piece reads like a reminiscence 
 of Andy's exploits. It also resembles in some degree 
 his famous story, "Barny CTReirdon the Navigator", to 
 be found among the "Legends and Stories" included in 
 this volume. But Barny is anything but a fool, whereas 
 "Jimmy Hoy" is clearly a sumph. 
 
 The "Illustrations of National Proverbs" were written 
 for and duly appeared in The Irish Penny Magazine, a 
 short-lived Dublin periodical of the years 1833 4. For 
 this magazine Lover did a good deal of pictorial work, 
 chiefly antiquarian drawings, and he also illustrated his 
 own "proverbs" by comic drawings, which were very badly 
 reproduced on wood. The magazine was badly printed
 
 INTRODUCTION XV 
 
 and badly edited, and in fact contains very little of the 
 slightest interest. The eleven stories or rather sketches 
 reprinted in the sixth volume of this edition are all 
 Lover's literary contributions to the magazine, and it 
 may be at once recognised that they do not by any 
 means reach his highest level of achievement. They are, 
 however, interesting and occasionally amusing, though 
 in them Lover is rather more serious and sentimental 
 in tone, generally speaking, then he was wont to be 
 in his short stories. One or two of them at least are 
 delightful. For example, the last of all, " Light Hearts 
 and Light Heels" is surely an admirable sketch of 
 an Irish peasant, showing a truer appreciation, per- 
 haps, of the national character than Lover was able to 
 give in his other writings. The earlier "Illustrations", 
 which, are really chapters of a story dealing with an 
 improvident, good-natured, thoughtless fellow, are not 
 altogether convincing, and such sketches as "Knocked 
 Up and Knocked Down" and " Wounded in Spirit" are 
 still less so, but there are excellent touches of humour 
 throughout, quite worthy of Lover's happier period. The 
 moral of each of the sketches is good, and these apolo- 
 gues are offered to the reader as at least characteristic 
 efforts of Lover. There is a rather grim stroke of humour, 
 which will perhaps appeal to Irishmen most successfully, in 
 the last of the "Illustrations of National Proverbs". 
 The harvestman who sees the notice-board which informs 
 the poor people of a certain part of Scotland that in
 
 XVI INTRODUCTION 
 
 consequence of a dearth only two meals a day can be 
 guaranteed to them, and exclaims "Only two meals !!" 
 adding, "Sure, none of them can stand the starvation 
 with us ! " echoes the views of many Irishmen who are 
 rather above the average harvestman in station and 
 education, but who know what a " fast " means. 
 
 " The Happy Man " is so little known and so amusing 
 a farce that I have thought it worth giving at the end of 
 the last volume of this edition. The reader who remembers 
 that treatment of the same legend by Sir Walter Scott 
 and Col. John Hay will doubtless find fresh food for 
 mirth in Lover's play. Those who do not already know 
 it or the legend itself will probably be pleased to make 
 acquaintance with them. 
 
 D. J. O'DONOGHDE.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 
 
 THE NAVIGATOR l 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OUTWARD-BOUND 
 
 "Well, he went farther and farther than I can tell." 
 
 NURSERY TALE. 
 
 A VERY striking characteristic of an Irishman is his 
 unwillingness to be outdone. Some have asserted that this 
 arises from vanity, but I have ever been unwilling to 
 attribute an unamiable motive to my countrymen where 
 a better may be found, and one equally tending to pro- 
 duce a similar result, and I consider a deep-seated spirit 
 of emulation to originate this peculiarity. Phrenologists 
 might resolve it by supposing the organ of the love of 
 approbation to predominate in our Irish craniums, and 
 it may be so ; but as I am not in the least a metaphysician, 
 and very little of a phrenologist, I leave those who choose 
 to settle the point in question, quite content with the 
 knowledge of the fact with which I started, viz., the 
 unwillingness of an Irishman to be outdone. This spirit, 
 it is likely, may sometimes lead men into ridiculous posi- 
 tions; but it is equally probable, that the desire of sur-
 
 2 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 passing one another has given birth to many of the 
 noblest actions, and some of the most valuable inventions ; 
 let us, therefore, not fall out with it. 
 
 Now, having vindicated the motive of my countrymen, 
 I will prove the total absence of national prejudice in 
 so doing, by giving an illustration of the ridiculous 
 consequences attendant upon this Hibernian peculiarity. 
 
 Barny O'Reirdon was a fisherman of Kinsale, and a 
 heartier fellow never hauled a net nor cast a line into 
 deep water : indeed Barny, independently of being a merry 
 boy among his companions, a lover of good fun and good 
 whiskey, was looked up to, rather, by his brother fisher- 
 men, as an intelligent fellow, and few boats brought more 
 fish to market than Barny O'Reirdon's; his opinion on 
 certain points in the craft was considered law, and in 
 short, in his own little community, Barny was what is 
 commonly called a leading man. Now, your leading man 
 is always jealous in an inverse ratio to the sphere of his 
 influence, and the leader of a nation is less incensed at 
 a rival's triumph, than the great man of a village. If 
 we pursue this descending scale, what a desperately jealous 
 person the oracle of oyster-dredgers and cockle-women 
 must be ! Such was Barny O'Reirdon. 
 
 Seated one night at a public-house, the common resort 
 of Barny and other marine curiosities, our hero got 
 entangled in debate with what he called a strange sail 
 that is to say, a man he had never met before, and whom 
 he was inclined to treat rather magisterially upon nautical
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 3 
 
 subjects ; at the same time that the stranger was equally 
 inclined to assume the high hand over him, till at last 
 the new-comer made a regular out-break by exclaiming, 
 "Ah, tare-an-ouns, lave aff your balderdash, Mr. O'Reirdon, 
 by the powdhers o' war, it's enough, so it is, to make a 
 dog bate his father, to hear you goin' an as if you war 
 Curlumberus or Sir Crustyphiz Wran, 2 whin ivery one 
 knows the divil a farther you ivir wor, nor ketchin' crabs 
 or drudgin' oysters.' 1 
 
 "Who towld you that, my Watherford Wondher?" 
 rejoined Barny; "what the dickins do you know about 
 sayfarin' farther nor fishin' for sprats in a bowl wid your 
 grandmother ? " 
 
 "Oh, baithershin" says the stranger. 
 
 "And who made you so bowld with my name ? " demanded 
 O'Reirdon. 
 
 "No matther for that,"" said the stranger; "but if 
 you'd like for to know, shure it's your cousin Molly Mullins 
 knows me well, and maybe I don't know you and yours 
 as well as the mother that bore you, aye, in throth ; and 
 shure I know the very thoughts o' you as well as if I 
 was inside o' you, Bamy O'Reirdon." 
 
 "By my soul, thin you know betther thoughts than 
 your own, Mr. Whippersnapper, if that's the name you 
 go by." 
 
 " No, it's not the name I go by ; I've as good a name 
 as your own, Mr. O'Reirdon, for want of a betther, and 
 that's O'Sullivan."
 
 4 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Throth there's more than there's good o' them," said 
 Barny. 
 
 " Good or bad, I'm a cousin o 1 your own twice removed 
 by the mother's side." 
 
 "And is it the Widda O'Sullivan's boy you'd be, that 
 left this come Candlemas four years?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 " Throth thin you might know betther manners to your 
 eldhers, though I'm glad to see you, anyhow, agin ; but 
 a little thravellin' puts us beyant ourselves sometimes," 
 said Barny, rather contemptuously. 
 
 "Troth I niver bragged out o' myself yit, and it's 
 what I say, that a man that's only a fishin' aff the land 
 all his life has no business to compare in the regard o' 
 thracthericks wid a man that has sailed to Fingal." 
 
 This silenced any further argument on Barny's part. 
 Where Fingal lay was all Greek to him; but, unwilling 
 to admit his ignorance, he covered his retreat with the 
 usual address of his countrymen, and turned the bitter- 
 ness of debate into the cordial flow of congratulation at 
 seeing his cousin again. 
 
 The liquor was freely circulated, and the conversation 
 began to take a different turn from that which had nearly 
 ended in a quarrel between O'Reirdon and his relation. 
 
 The state of the crops, county cess, and road jobs 
 became topics, and various strictures as to the utility of 
 the last-named were indulged in, while the merits of the 
 neighbouring farmers were canvassed.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 5 
 
 " Why thin," said one, " that field o' whate o' Michael 
 Coghlan is the finest field o' whate mortial eyes was ever 
 set upon divil the likes iv it myself ever seen far or near." 
 
 " Throth, thin, sure enough," said another, " it promises 
 to be a fine crap anyhow, and myself can't help thinkin' 
 it quare that Mick Coghlan, that's a plain spoken, quite 
 (quiet) man, and simple like, should have finer craps than 
 Peter Kelly o' the big farm beyant, that knows all about 
 the great saycrets o' the airth, and is knowledgeable to 
 a degree, and has all the hard words that iver was coined 
 at his fingers' ends." 
 
 "Faith, he has a power o' blastliogue about him sure 
 enough," said the former speaker, "if that could do him 
 any good, but he isn't fit to hould a candle to Michael 
 Coghlan in the regard o' farmin'." 
 
 "Why, blur an agers," rejoined the upholder of science, 
 "sure he met the Scotch steward that the lord beyant 
 has, one day, that I hear is a wondherful edicated man, 
 and was brought over here to show us all a patthern 
 well, Pether Kelly met him one day, and, by gor, he 
 discoorsed him to that degree that the Scotch chap hadn't 
 a word left in his jaw." 
 
 "Well, and what was he the betther o' having more 
 prate than a Scotchman?" asked the other. 
 
 "Why," answered Kelly's friend, "I think it stands to 
 rayson that the man that done out the Scotch steward 
 ought to know somethin' more about farmin' than Mick 
 Coghlan."
 
 6 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Augh! don't talk to me about knowing, 1 " said the 
 other, rather contemptuously. "Sure I gev in to you 
 that he has a power o' prate, and the gift o' the 
 gab, and all to that. I own to you that he has 
 the-o-ry and the che-mis-thery, but he hasn't the craps. 
 Now, the man that has the craps is the man for my 
 money." 
 
 "You're right, my boy," said O'Reirdon, with an ap- 
 proving thump of his brawny fist on the table, "it's a 
 little talk goes far doin 1 is the thing." 
 
 "Ah, yiz may run down larnin' if yiz like," said the 
 undismayed stickler for theory versus practice, " but larnin' 
 is a fine thing, and sure where would the world be at 
 all only for it, sure where would the staymers (steam 
 boats) be, only for larnin'?" 
 
 "Well," said O'Reirdon, "the divil may care if we 
 never seen them ; I'd rather dipind an wind and canvas 
 any day than the likes o' them. What are they good 
 for, but to turn good sailors into kitchen-maids, all as 
 one, bilin ' a big pot o' wather and oilin ' their fire-irons, 
 and thro win' coals an the fire? Augh! thim staymers 
 is a disgrace to the say; they're for all the world like 
 ould fogies, smokin' from mornin' till night, and doin' 
 no good." 
 
 " Do you call it doin' no good to go fasther nor ships 
 iver wint before?" 
 
 "Pooh! sure Solomon, Queen o' Sheba, said there was 
 time enough for all things."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 7 
 
 "Thrue for you," said O'Sullivan, "fair and aisy goes 
 far in a day, is a good ould say in'.' 1 
 
 "Well, maybe you'll own to the improvemint they're 
 makin' in the harbour o' Howth, beyant in Dublin, is 
 some good." 
 
 " We'll see whether it 'ill be an improvemint first," 
 said the obdurate O'Reirdon. 
 
 "Why, man alive, sure you'll own it's the greatest o' 
 good it is, takin' up the big rocks out o' the bottom of 
 the harbour." 
 
 " Well, an' where's the wondher o' that ? sure we done 
 the same here." 
 
 "Oh yis, but it was whin the tide was out and the 
 rocks was bare; but up in Howth, they cut away the 
 big rocks from undher the say intirely." 
 
 " Oh, be aisy ; why, how could they do that ? " 
 
 "Aye, there's the matther, that's what larnin' can do; 
 and wondherful it is intirely! and the way it is, is this, 
 as I hear it, for I never seen it, but h'ard it described 
 by the lord to some gintlemin and ladies one day in his 
 garden where I was helpin' the gardener to land some 
 salary (celery). You see the ingineer goes down undher 
 the wather intirely, and can stay there as long as he 
 plazes." 
 
 "Whoo! and what o' that? Sure I heerd the long 
 sailor say, that come from the Aysthern Ingees, that the 
 Ingineers s there can a'most live undher wather ; and goes 
 down lookin' for dimonds, and has sledge-hammers in their
 
 8 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 hands, brakein' the dimonds when they're too big to take 
 them up whole, all as one as men brakein' stones an 
 the road." 
 
 "Well, I don't want to go beyant that; but the way 
 the lord's ingineer goes down is, he has a little bell with 
 him, and while he has that little bell to ring, hurt nor 
 harm can't come to him." 
 
 " Arrah be aisy." 
 
 "Divil a lie in it." 
 
 "Maybe its a blessed bell," said O'Reirdon, crossing 
 himself. 4 
 
 "No, it is not a blessed bell." 
 
 " Why thin now, do you think me sitch a born nat'hral 
 as to give in to that ? as if the ringin ' iv a bell, barrin' 
 it was a blessed bell, could do the like. I tell you it's 
 unpossible." 
 
 "Ah, nothings unpossible to God." 
 
 "Sure I wasn't denyin' that; but I say the bell is 
 unpossible." 
 
 "Why," said O'Sullivan, "you see he's not altogether 
 complate in the demonstheration o' the mashine; it is 
 not by the ringin' o' the bell it is done, but " 
 
 " But what ? " broke in O'Reirdon impatiently. " Do 
 you mane for to say there is a bell in it at all at all ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do," said O'Sullivan. 
 
 "I towld you so," said the promulgator of the story. 
 
 "Aye," said O'Sullivan, "but it is not by the ringin' 
 iv the bell it is done."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 9 
 
 "Well, how is it done, then? 11 said the other, with a 
 half-offended, half-supercilious air. 
 
 "It is done," said O'Sullivan, as he returned the look 
 with interest, "it is done intirely be jommethry." 
 
 "Oh! I undherstan' it now," said O'Reirdon, with an 
 inimitable affectation of comprehension in the Oh! "but 
 to talk of the ringin' iv a bell doin' the like is beyant 
 the beyants intirely, barring as I said before, it was a 
 blessed bell, glory be to God!" 
 
 "And so you tell me, sir, it is jommethry," said the 
 twice discomfited man of science. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said O'Sullivan, with an air of triumph, 
 which rose in proportion as he saw he carried the listeners 
 along with him "jommethry." 
 
 "Well, have it your own way. There's them that 
 won't hear rayson sometimes, nor have belief in larnin'; 
 and you may say it's jommethry if you plaze; but I 
 heerd them that knows betther than iver you knew say ' 
 
 "Whisht, whisht! and bad cess to you both," said 
 O'Reirdon, "what the dickens are yiz goin' to fight about 
 now, and sitch good liquor before yiz? Hillo! there, 
 Mrs. Quigley, bring us another quart, i' you plaze; aye, 
 that's the chat, another quart. Augh! yiz may talk till 
 you're black in the face about your invintions, and your 
 staymers, and bell ringin' and gash, 5 and rail-roads; but 
 here's long life and success to the man that invented the 
 impairil quart 6 ; that was the rale beautiful invintion," 
 and he took a long pull at the replenished vessel, which
 
 10 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 strongly indicated that the increase of its dimensions was 
 a very agreeable measure to such as Barny. 
 
 After the introduction of this and other quarts, it would 
 not be an easy matter to pursue the conversation that 
 followed. Let us, therefore, transfer our story to the 
 succeeding morning, when Barny O'Reirdon strolled forth 
 from his cottage, rather later than usual, with his eyes 
 bearing eye-witness to the carouse of the preceding night. 
 He had not a head-ache, however; whether it was that 
 Barny was too experienced a campaigner under the ban- 
 ners of Bacchus, or that Mrs. Quigley's boast was a just 
 one, namely, "that of all the drink in her house, there 
 wasn't a head-ache in a hogshead of it, 11 is hard to deter- 
 mine, but I rather incline to the strength of Barny's 
 head. 
 
 The above-quoted declaration of Mi's. Quigley's is the 
 favourite inducement held out by every boon companion 
 in Ireland at the head of his own table. "Don't be 
 afraid of it, my boys! it's the right sort. There's not a 
 head-ache in a hogshead of it." 
 
 This sentiment has been very seductively rendered by 
 Moore, with the most perfect unconsciousness on his part 
 of the likeness he was instituting. Who does not re- 
 member 
 
 "Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, 
 
 'Twill chase the pensive tear; 
 'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip, 
 
 But, oh, 'tis more sincere ;
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 11 
 
 Like her delusive beam, 
 
 "Twill steal away the mind ; 
 But, like affection's dream, 
 
 It leaves no sting behind." 
 
 Is not this very elegantly saying, "there's not a head- 
 ache in a hogshead of it? 11 But I am forgetting my 
 story all this time. 
 
 Barny sauntered about in the sun, at which he often 
 looked up, under the shelter of compressed bushy brows 
 and long-lashed eyelids, and a shadowing hand across 
 his forehead, to see "what time o 1 day" it was; and, 
 from the frequency of this action, it was evident the day 
 was hanging heavily with Barny. He retired at last to 
 a sunny nook in a neighbouring field, and stretching him- 
 self at full length, basked in the sun, and began "to 
 chew the cud of sweet and bitter thought." He first 
 reflected on his own undoubted weight in his little com- 
 munity, but still he could not get over the annoyance 
 of the preceding night, arising from his being silenced by 
 CTSullivan ; " a chap," as he said himself, " that lift the 
 place four years ago a brat iv a boy, and to think iv 
 his comin' back and outdoin' his elders, that saw him 
 runnin' about the place, a gossoon, that one could tache 
 a few months before;" 'twas too bad. Barny saw his 
 reputation was in a ticklish position, and began to consider 
 how his disgrace could he retrieved. The very name of 
 Fingal was hateful to him ; it was a plague spot on his 
 peace that festered there incurably. He first thought of
 
 12 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 leaving Kinsale altogether; but flight implied so much 
 of defeat that he did not long indulge in that notion. 
 No ; he would stay, " in spite of all the O'Sullivans, kith 
 and kin, breed, seed, and generation." But at the same 
 time he knew he should never hear the end of that hatefu 1 
 place, Fingal ; and if Barny had had the power, he would 
 have enacted a penal statute, making it death to name 
 the accursed spot, wherever it was ; but not being gifted 
 with such legislative authority, he felt Kinsale was no 
 place for him, if he would not submit to be flouted every 
 hour out of the four-and- twenty, by man, woman, and 
 child, that wished to annoy him. What was to be done ? 
 He was in the perplexing situation, to use his own words, 
 "of the cat in the thripe shop, 1 ' he didn't know what 
 to choose. At last, after turning himself over in the sun 
 several times, a new idea struck him. Couldn't he go to 
 Fingal himself? Then he'd be equal to that upstart, 
 O'Slluivan. No sooner was the thought engendered, than 
 Barny sprang to his feet a new man ; his eye bright- 
 ened, his step became once more elastic, he walked 
 erect, and felt himself to be all over Barny O'Reirdon 
 once more. "Richard was himself again." 
 
 But where was Fingal ? 7 there was the rub. That 
 was a profound mystery to Barny, which, until discovered, 
 must hold him in the vile bondage of inferiority. The 
 plain-dealing reader will say, "Couldn't he ask?" No, 
 no; that would never do for Barny, that would be an 
 open admission of ignorance his soul was above, and,
 
 BARNY CTREIRDON 13 
 
 consequently, Baray set his brains to work to devise 
 measures of coming at the hidden knowledge by some 
 circuitous route that would not betray the end he was 
 working for. To this purpose fifty stratagems were 
 raised and demolished in half as many minutes, in the 
 fertile brain of Barny, as he strode along the shore ; and 
 as he was working hard at the fifty-first, it was knocked 
 all to pieces by his jostling against some one whom he 
 never perceived he was approaching, so immersed was he 
 in his speculations, and on looking up, who should it 
 prove to be but his friend "the long sailor from the 
 Aysthern Ingees." This was quite a godsend to Barny, 
 and much beyond what he could have hoped for. Of 
 all the men under the sun, the long sailor was the man 
 in a million for Barny's net at that minute, and accor- 
 dingly he made a haul of him, and thought it the greatest 
 catch he ever made in his life. 
 
 Barny and the long sailor were in close companionship 
 for the remainder of the day, which was closed, as the 
 preceding one, in a carouse; but on this occasion, there 
 was only a duet performance in honour of the jolly god, 
 and the treat was at Barny's expense. What the nature 
 of their conversation during the period was, I will not 
 dilate on, but keep it as profound a secret as Barny 
 himself did, and content myself with saying, that Barny 
 looked a much happier man the next day. Instead of 
 wearing his hat slouched, and casting his eyes on the 
 ground, he walked about with his usual unconcern, and
 
 14 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 gave his nod and passing word of "civilitude" to every 
 friend he met ; he rolled his quid of tobacco about in 
 his jaw with an air of superior enjoyment, and if dis- 
 turbed in his narcotic amusement by a question, he took 
 his own good time to eject "the leperous distilment" 
 before he answered the querist, with a happy composure 
 that bespoke a man quite at ease with himself. It was in 
 this agreeable spirit that Barny bent his course to the house 
 of Peter Kelly, the owner of the " big farm beyant," before 
 alluded to, in order to put in practice a plan he had formed 
 for the fulfilment of his determination of rivalling O'Sullivan. 
 
 He thought it probable that Peter Kelly, being one 
 of the "snuggest" men in the neighbourhood, would be 
 a likely person to join him in a "spec,"" as he called it, 
 (a favourite abbreviation of his for the word speculation,) 
 and, accordingly, when he reached the "big farm-house," 
 he accosted its owner with the usual "God save you." 
 "God save you kindly, Barny," returned Peter Kelly; 
 "an' what is it brings you here, Barny," asked Peter, 
 "this fine day, instead o' bein' out in the boat?" "Oh, 
 I'll be out in the boat soon enough, and it's far enough 
 too I'll be in her; an' indeed it's partly that same is 
 bringin' me here to yourself." 
 
 "Why, do you want me to go along wid you, Barny?" 
 
 " Troth an' I don't, Mr. Kelly. You're a knowledgeable 
 man an land, but I'm afeard it's a bad bargain you'd 
 be at say." 
 
 " And what wor you talking about me and your boat for ? "
 
 BARNY O'RKIRDON 15 
 
 "Why, you see, sir, it was in the regard of a little 
 bit o' business, an' if you'd come wid me and take a turn 
 in the praty field, I'll be behouldin' to you, and may 
 be you'll hear somethin' that won't be displazin' to you." 
 
 "An' welkim, Barny," said Peter Kelly. 
 
 When Barny and Peter were in the "praty field," 
 Barney opened the trenches (I don't mean the potato 
 trenches, but use military parlance) and laid siege to Peter 
 Kelly, setting forth the extensive profits that had been 
 realized by various "specs" that had been made by his 
 neighbours in exporting potatoes. " And sure," said Barny, 
 "why shouldn't you do the same, and they here ready 
 to your hand ? as much as to say, * why don't you profit 
 by me, Peter Kelly?' And the boat is below there in 
 the harbour, and, I'll say this much, the devil a betther 
 boat is betune this and herself." 
 
 "Indeed, I b'lieve so, Barny," said Peter, "for, con- 
 sidhering where we stand, at this present, there's no boat 
 at all at all betune us," and Peter laughed with infinite 
 pleasure at his own hit. 
 
 "O! well, you know what I mane, anyhow, an', as I 
 said before, the boat is a darlint boat, and as for him 
 that commands her I b'lieve I need say nothin' about 
 that," and Barny gave a toss of his head and a sweep 
 of his open hand, more than doubling the laudatory 
 nature of his comment on himself. 
 
 But, as the Irish saying is, "to make a long story 
 short," Barny prevailed on Peter Kelly to make an export ;
 
 16 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 but in the nature of the venture they did not agree. 
 Barny had proposed potatoes; Peter said there were 
 enough of them already where he was going; and Barny 
 rejoined, that "praties were so good in themselves there 
 never could be too much o' thim anywhere." But Peter 
 being "a knowledgeable man, and up to all the saycrets 
 o' the airth, and understanding the-o-ry and the che- 
 mis-thery," overruled Barny's proposition, and determined 
 upon a cargo of scalpeens (which name they give to pickled 
 mackerel), as a preferable merchandise, quite forgetting 
 that Dublin Bay herrings were a much better and as 
 cheap a commodity, at the command of the Fingalians. 
 But in many similar mistakes the ingenious Mr. Kelly 
 has been paralleled by other speculators. But that is 
 neither here nor there, and it was all one to Barny 
 whether his boat was freighted with potatoes or scalpeens, 
 so long as he had the honour and glory of becoming a 
 navigator, and being as good as O'Sullivan. 
 
 Accordingly the boat was laden and all got in readi- 
 ness for putting to sea, and nothing was now wanting 
 but Barny's orders to haul up the gaff and shake out 
 the jib of his hooker. 
 
 But this order Barny refrained to give, and for the first 
 time in his life exhibited a disinclination to leave the shore. 
 One of his fellow-boatmen, at last, said to him, " Why thin, 
 Barny O'Reirdon, what the divil is come over you, at all at 
 all ? What's the maynin' of your loitherin 1 about here, and 
 the boat ready and a lovely fine breeze aff o' the land ? "
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 17 
 
 "Oh! never you mind; I b'lieve I know my own busi- 
 ness anyhow, an' it's hard, so it is, if a man can't 
 ordher his own boat to sail when he plazes." 
 
 "Oh! I was only thinkin' it quare and a pity more 
 betoken, as I said before, to lose the beautiful breeze, 
 and' 1 
 
 "Well, just keep your thoughts to yourself, i' you 
 plaze, and stay in the boat as I bid you, and don't be 
 out of her on your apperl, by no manner o' manes, for 
 one minit, for you see I don't know when it may be 
 plazin' to me to go aboord an' set sail." 
 
 " Well, all I can say is, I never seen you afeard to go 
 to say before." 
 
 "Who says I'm afeard?" said O'Reirdon ; "you'd bet- 
 ther not say that agin, or in throth I'll give you a 
 leatherin' that won't be for the good o' your health 
 throth, for three sthraws this minit I'd lave you that 
 your own mother wouldn't know you with the lickin' I'd 
 give you; but I scorn your dirty insiniation; no man 
 ever seen Barny O'Reirdon afeard yet, anyhow. Howld 
 your prate, I tell you, and look up to your betthers. 
 What do you know iv navigation? maybe you think it's 
 as aisy to sail an a voyage as to go a start fishin'," ard 
 Barny turned on his heel and left the shore. 
 
 The next day passed without the hooker sailing, and 
 Barny gave a most sufficient reason for the delay, by 
 declaring that he had a " warnin' given him in a dhrame, 
 (glory be to God,)" and that it was given to him to
 
 18 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 understand (under Heaven) that "it wouldn't be looky" 
 that day. 
 
 Well, the next day was Friday, and Barny, of course 
 would not sail, any more than any other sailor who could 
 help it, on that unpropitious day. On Saturday, how- 
 ever, he came, running in a great hurry down to the 
 shore, and, jumping aboard, he gave orders to make all 
 sail, and taking the helm of the hooker, he turned her 
 head to the sea, and soon the boat was cleaving the 
 blue waters with a velocity seldom witnessed in so small 
 a craft, and scarcely conceivable to those who have not 
 seen the speed of a Kinsale hooker. 
 
 " Why, thin, you tuk the notion mighty suddint, Barny," 
 said the fisherman next in authority to O'Reirdon, as soon 
 as the bustle of getting the boat under way had subsided. 
 " Well, I hope it's plazin' to you at last," said Barny ; 
 " throth one 'ud think you were never at say before, you 
 wor in such a hurry to be aff; as new-fangled a'most as 
 a child with a play-toy." 
 
 " Well," said the other of Barny's companions, for there 
 were but two with him in the boat, " I was thinkin' my- 
 self, as well as Jimmy, that we lost two fine days for 
 nothin', and we'd be there a'most, maybe, now, if we 
 sail'd three days ago." 
 
 "Don't b'lieve it," said Barny, emphatically. "Now, 
 don't you know yourself that there is some days that the 
 fish won't come near the lines at all, and that we might 
 as well be castin' our nets an the dhry land as in the
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 19 
 
 say, for all we'll catch, if we start an an unlooky day; 
 and sure I towld you I was waitin' only till I had it 
 given to me to undherstan' that it was looky to sail, and 
 I go bail we'll be there sooner than if we started three 
 days ago, for if you don't start, with good look before 
 you, faix, maybe it's never at all to the end o' your 
 thrip you'll come." 
 
 " Well, there's no use in talkin' about it now, anyhow ; 
 but when do you expec' to be there?" 
 
 " Why, you see we must wait until I can tell how the 
 wind is like to hould on, before I can make up my mind 
 to that." 
 
 "But you're sure now, Barny, that you're up to the 
 coorse you have to run?" 
 
 "See now, lay me alone and don't be crass-quastionin' 
 me tare-an-ouns, do you think me sitch a bladdherang 
 as for to go to shuperinscribe a thing I wasn't aiquil to ?" 
 
 " No ; I was only goin' to ax you what coorse you wor 
 goin' to steer?" 
 
 "You'll find out soon enough when we get there and 
 so I bid you agin' lay me alone, just keep your toe in 
 your pump. Shure I'm here at the helm, and a waight 
 an my mind, and it's fitther for you, Jim, to mind your 
 own business and lay me to mind mine ; away wid you 
 there and be handy, haul taut that foresheet there, we 
 must run close an the wind ; be handy, boys : make every- 
 thing dhraw." 
 
 These orders were obeyed, and the hooker soon passed
 
 20 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 to windward of a ship that left the harbour before her, 
 but could not hold on a wind with the same tenacity 
 as the hooker, whose qualities in this particular render it 
 peculiarly suitable for the purposes to which it is applied, 
 namely, pilot and fishing boats. 
 
 We have said a ship left the harbour before the hooker 
 had set sail, and it is now fitting to inform the reader 
 that Barny had contrived, in the course of his last meet- 
 ing with the "long sailor," to ascertain that this ship, 
 then lying in the harbour, was going to the very place 
 Barny wanted to reach. Bamy's plan of action was de- 
 cided upon in a moment ; he had now nothing to do but 
 to watch the sailing of the ship and follow in her course. 
 Here was, at once, a new mode of navigation discovered. 
 
 The stars, twinkling in mysterious brightness through 
 the silent gloom of night, were the first encouraging, be- 
 cause visible, guides to the adventurous mariners of anti- 
 quity. Since then, the sailor, encouraged by a bolder 
 science, relies on the unseen agency of nature, depending 
 on the fidelity of an atom of iron to the mystic law that 
 claims its homage in the north. This is one refinement 
 of science upon another. But the beautiful simplicity of 
 Barny O'Reirdon's philosophy cannot be too much admired. 
 To follow the ship that is going to the same place. Is 
 not this navigation made easy? 
 
 But Barny, like many a great man before him, seemed 
 not to be aware of how much credit he was entitled to 
 for his invention, for he did not divulge to his compa-
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 21 
 
 nions the originality of his proceeding; he wished them 
 to believe he was only proceeding in the commonplace 
 manner, and had no ambition to be distinguished as the 
 happy projector of so simple a practice. 
 
 For this purpose he went to windward of the ship and 
 then fell off again, allowing her to pass him, as he did 
 not wish even those on board the ship to suppose he was 
 following in their wake; for Barny, like all people that 
 are quite full of one scheme, and fancy everybody is 
 watching them, dreaded lest any one should fathom his 
 motives. All that day Barny held on the same course 
 as his leader, keeping at a respectful distance, however, 
 "for fear 'twould look like dodging her," as he said to 
 himself; but as night closed in, so closed in Barny with 
 the ship, and kept a sharp look-out that she should not 
 give him the slip in the dark. The next morning dawned, 
 and found the hooker and ship companions still ; and thus 
 matters proceeded for four days, during the entire of 
 which time they had not seen land since their first losing 
 sight of it, although the weather was clear. 
 
 "By my sowl," thought Barny, "the channel must be 
 mighty wide in these parts, and for the last day or so 
 we've been goin' purty free with a flowin' sheet, and I 
 wondher we aren't closin' in wid the shore by this time ; 
 or maybe it's farther aff than I thought it was." His 
 companions, too, began to question Barny on the subject, 
 but to their queries he presented an impenetrable front 
 of composure, and said, "it was always the best plan to
 
 22 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 keep a good bowld offin'." In two days more, however, 
 the weather began to be sensibly warmer, and Barny 
 and his companions remarked that it was "goin' to be 
 the finest sayson God bless it that ever kem out o' 
 the skies for many a long year, and maybe it's the whate 
 wouldn't be beautiful, and a great plenty of it."" It was 
 at the end of a week that the ship which Bamy had 
 hitherto kept a-head of him, showed symptoms of bearing 
 down upon him, as he thought, and, sure enough, she 
 did; and Barny began to conjecture what the deuce the 
 ship could want with him, and commenced inventing an- 
 swers to the questions he thought it possible might be 
 put to him in case the ship spoke him. He was soon 
 put out of suspense by being hailed and ordered to run 
 under her lee, and the captain, looking over the quarter, 
 asked Barny where he was going. 
 
 "Faith then, I'm goin' an my business," said Barny. 
 
 "But where?" said the captain. 
 
 " Why, sure, an' it's no matther where a poor man like 
 me id be goin'," said Barny. 
 
 " Only I'm curious to know what the deuce you've been 
 following my ship for, for the last week ? " 
 
 "Follyin' your ship! Why thin, blur an agers, do you 
 think it's follyin' yiz I am?" 
 
 "It is very like it," said the captain. 
 
 " Why, did two people niver thravel the same road before ? " 
 
 " I don't say they didn't ; but there's a great difference 
 between a ship of seven hundred tons and a hooker."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 23 
 
 " Oh, as for that matther," said Barny, " the same high 
 road sarves a coach and four, and a lowback car; the 
 thravellin' tinker an 1 a lord a"" horseback."" 
 
 "That's very true," said the captain, "but the cases 
 are not the same, Paddy, and I can't conceive what the 
 devil brings you here." 
 
 "And who ax'd you to consayve anything about it?" 
 asked Barny, somewhat sturdily. 
 
 "D n me, if I can imagine what you're about, my 
 fine fellow," said the captain, "and my own notion is 
 that you don't know where the d 1 you're going your- 
 self." 
 
 " O baithershin ! " said Barny, with a laugh of derision. 
 
 "Why, then, do you object to tell?" said the captain. 
 
 " Arrah sure, captain, an' don't you know that some- 
 times vessels is bound to sail undher saycret ordhers ? " 
 said Barny, endeavouring to foil the question by badinage. 
 
 There was a universal laugh from the deck of the ship, 
 at the idea of a fishing-boat sailing under secret orders ; 
 for, by this time, the whole broadside of the vessel was 
 crowded with grinning mouths and wondering eves at 
 Barny and his boat. 
 
 "Oh, it's a thrifle makes fools laugh," said Barny. 
 
 " Take care, my fine fellow, that you don't be laughing 
 at the wrong side of your mouth before long, for I've a 
 notion that you're cursedly in the wrong box, as cunning 
 a fellow as you think yourself. D n your stupid head, 
 can't you tell what brings you here?"
 
 24 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Why thin, by gor, one id think the whole say belonged 
 to you, you're so mighty bowld in axin questions an it. 
 Why, tare-an-ouns, sure I've as much right to be here as 
 you, though I haven't as big a ship nor as fine a coat 
 but maybe I can take as good sailin' out o' the one, and 
 has as bowld a heart under th' other." 
 
 "Very well," said the captain, "I see there's no use in 
 talking to you, so go to the d 1 your own way." And 
 away bore the ship, leaving Barny in indignation and his 
 companions in wonder. 
 
 " An' why wouldn't you tell him ? " said they to Barny. 
 
 " Why, don't you see," said Barny, whose object was 
 now to blind them, "don't you see, how do I know but 
 maybe he might be goin' to the same place himself, and 
 maybe he has a cargo of scalpeens as well as uz, and 
 wants to get before us there." 
 
 "Thrue for you, Barny," said they. "By dad you're 
 right." And their inquiries being satisfied, the day passed 
 as former ones had done, in pursuing the course of the ship. 
 
 In four days more, however, the provisions in the hooker 
 began to fail, and they were obliged to have recourse to 
 the scalpeens for sustenance, and Barny then got seriously 
 uneasy at the length of the voyage, and the likely greater 
 length, for anything he could see to the contrary, and, 
 urged at last by his own alarms and those of his compa- 
 nions, he was enabled, as the wind was light, to gain on 
 the ship, and when he found himself alongside he demanded 
 a parley with the captain.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 25 
 
 The captain on hearing that the "hardy hooker," as 
 she got christened, was under his lee, came on deck, and 
 as soon as he appeared Barny cried out 
 
 " Why, thin, blur an agers, captain dear, do you expec' 
 to be there soon?" 
 
 "Where?" said the captain. 
 
 "Oh, you know yourself," said Barny. 
 
 "It's well for me I do," said the captain. 
 
 "Thrue for you, indeed, your honour," said Barny, in 
 his most insinuating tone ; " but whin will you be at the 
 ind o' your voyage, captain jewel?" 
 
 "I dare say in about three months," said the captain. 
 
 "Oh, Holy Mother!" ejaculated Barny ; "three months! 
 arrah, it's jokin' you are, captain dear, and only want 
 to freken me." 
 
 "How should I frighten you?" asked the captain. 
 
 " Why, thin, your honour, to tell God's thruth, I heerd 
 you were goin' there, an' as I wanted to go there too, I 
 thought I couldn't do betther nor to folly a knowledgeable 
 gintleman like yourself, and save myself the throuble iv 
 findin' out." 
 
 "And where do you think I am going?" said the 
 captain. 
 
 "Why, thin," said Barny, "isn't it to Fingal?" 
 
 "No," said the captain, "'tis to Bengal." 
 
 "Oh! Gog's blakey!" said Barny, "what'll I do now 
 at all at all?"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 HOMEWARD-BOUND 
 
 "'Tis an ill wind that blows nobody good." 
 
 OLD SAYING. 
 
 THE captain ordered Barny on deck, as he wished to 
 have some conversation with him on what he, very natur- 
 ally, considered a most extraordinary adventure. Heaven 
 help the captain! he knew little of Irishmen or he would 
 riot have been so astonished. Barny made his appearance. 
 Puzzling question, and more puzzling answer, followed in 
 quick succession between the commander and Barny, who, 
 in the midst of his dilemma, stamped about, thumped 
 his head, squeezed his caubeen into all manner of shapes, 
 and vented his despair anathematically. 
 
 "Oh! my heavy hathred to you, you tarnal thief iv a 
 long sailor, it's a purty scrape yiv led me into. By gor, 
 I thought it was Fingal he said, and now I hear it is 
 Bingal. Oh! the devil sweep you for navigation, why did 
 I meddle or make wi'd you at all at all! and my curse 
 light on you, Terry O'Sullivan, why did I iver come 
 acrass you, you onlooky vagabone, to put sitch thoughts 
 in my head? An so it's Bingal, and not Fingal, you're 
 goin 1 to, captain."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON. 27 
 
 "Yes, indeed, Paddy." 
 
 "An' might I be so bowld to ax, captain, is Bingal 
 much farther nor Fingal?" 
 
 "A trifle or so, Paddy." 
 
 "Och, thin, millia muriher^ iceirasthru, how 'ill I iver 
 get there, at all at all?" roared out poor Barny. 
 
 "By turning about, and getting back the road you've 
 come, as fast as you can." 
 
 "Is it back? Oh! Queen iv Heaven! an' how will I 
 iver get back?" said the bewildered Barny. 
 
 "Then you don't know your course it appears?" 
 
 " Oh faix, I knew it, iligant, as long as your honour was 
 before me." 
 
 " But you don't know your course back ? " 
 
 " Why, indeed, not to say rightly all out, your honour." 
 
 "Can't you steer?" said the captain. 
 
 " The divil a betther hand at the tiller in all Kinsale," 
 said Barny, with his usual brag. 
 
 " Well, so far so good," said the captain. " And you know 
 the points of the compass you have a compass, I suppose." 
 
 "A compass! by my sovvl, an' it's not let alone a com- 
 pass, but a pair o' compasses I have, that my brother, 
 the carpinthir, left me for a keepsake whin he wint 
 abroad; but, indeed, as for the points o' thim I can't 
 say much, for the childer spylt thim intirely, rootin" holes 
 in the flure." 
 
 "What the plague are you talking about?" asked the 
 captain.
 
 28 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Wasn't your honour discoorsin' me about the points 
 o' the compasses ? " 
 
 "Confound your thick head!"" said the captain. "Why, 
 what an ignoramus you must be, not to know what a 
 compass is, and you at sea all your life ? Do you even 
 know the cardinal points?" 
 
 "The cardinals! faix, an 1 it's a great respect I have for 
 them, your honour. Sure, ar'n't they belongin' to the 
 Pope?" 
 
 "Confound you, you blockhead!" roared the captain 
 in a rage "'twould take the patience of the Pope and 
 the cardinals, and the cardinal virtues into the bargain, 
 to keep one's temper with you. Do you know the four 
 points of the wind?" 
 
 "By my sowl I do, and more." 
 
 "Well, never mind more, but let us stick to four. 
 You're sure you know the four points of the wind?" 
 
 " By dad, it would be a quare thing if a sayfarin' man 
 didn't know somethin' about the wind, anyhow. Why, 
 captain dear, you must take me for a nath'ral intirely 
 to suspect me o' the like o' not knowin' all about the 
 wind. By gor, I know as much o' the wind a'most as 
 a pig." 
 
 "Indeed I believe so," laughed out the captain. 
 
 "Oh, you may laugh if you plaze, and I see by that 
 same that you don't know about the pig, with all your 
 edication, captain." 
 
 "Well, what about the pig?"
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON. 29 
 
 " Why, sir, did you never hear a pig can see the wind ?" 
 
 "I can't say that I did." 
 
 "Oh thin he does, and for that rayson who has a 
 right to know more about it?"" 
 
 "You don't, for one, I dare say, Paddy; and maybe 
 you have a pig aboard to give you information.'" 
 
 " Sorra taste, your honour, not as much as a rasher 0' 
 bacon ; but it's maybe your honour never seen a pig tossin' 
 up his snout, consaited like, and running like mad afore 
 a storm." 
 
 "Well, what if I have?" 
 
 "Well, sir, that is when they see the wind a comin'." 
 
 "Maybe so, Paddy, but all your knowledge of pigs 
 won't find you your way home; and, if you take my 
 advice, you will give up all thoughts of endeavouring to 
 find your way back, and come on board. You and your 
 messmates, I dare say, will be useful hands, with some 
 teaching; but, at all events, I cannot leave you here on 
 the open sea, with every chance of being lost." 
 
 "Why thin, indeed, and I'm beho widen to your honour; 
 and it's the hoighth o' kindness, so it is, your offer ; and 
 it's nothin' else but a gentleman you are, every inch o' 
 you ; but I hope it's not so bad wid us yet, as to do 
 the likes o' that." 
 
 "I think it's bad enough," said the captain, "when 
 you are without a compass, and knowing nothing of your 
 course, and nearly a hundred and eighty leagues from 
 land."
 
 30 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "An 1 how many miles would that be, captain?" 
 
 "Three times as many.' 1 
 
 "I never lamed the rule o 1 three, captain, and maybe 
 your honour id tell me yourself. 11 
 
 "That is rather more than five hundred miles. 11 
 
 " Five hundred miles ! " shouted Barny. " Oh ! the Lord 
 look down on us! how 'ill we iver get back!! 11 
 
 " That's what I say, 11 said the captain ; " and, therefore, 
 I recommend you come aboard with me. 11 
 
 "And where 'ud the hooker be all the time?" said 
 Barny. 
 
 "Let her go adrift, 11 was the answer. 
 
 "Is it the darlint boat? Oh, by dad, I'll never hear 
 o 1 that at all. 11 
 
 "Well, then, stay in her and be lost. Decide upon 
 the matter at once, either come on board or cast off; 11 
 and the captain was turning away as he spoke, when 
 Barny called after him, " Arrah, thin, your honour, don't 
 go jist for one minit antil I ax you one word more. If 
 I wint wid you, whin would I be home agin? 11 
 
 "In about seven months." 
 
 " Oh, thin, that puts the wig an it at wanst. I dar'n't 
 go at all." 
 
 "Why, seven months are not long passing." 
 
 "Thrue for you, in throth," said Barny, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders. " Faix, it's myself knows, to my sorrow, 
 the half-year comes round mighty suddint, and the lord's 
 agint comes for the thrifle o 1 rint; and faix I know, by
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 31 
 
 Molly, that nine months is not long in goin' over either,"" 
 added Barny with a grin. 
 
 "Then what's your objection, as to the time?"" asked 
 the captain. 
 
 " Arrali) sure, sir, what would the woman that owns 
 me do while I was away ? and maybe it's break her heart 
 the craythur would, thinkin' I was lost intirely; and 
 who'd be at home to take care o' the childher, and aim 
 thim the bit and the sup, whin Fd be away? and who 
 knows but it's all dead they'd be afore I got back ? Och 
 hone ! sure the heart id fairly break in my body, if hurt 
 or harm kem to them, through me. So, say no more, 
 captain dear, only give me a thrifle o' directions how 
 I'm to make an offer at gettin' home, and it's myself that 
 will pray for you night, noon, and mornin' for that same." 
 
 "Well, Paddy," said the captain, "as you are deter- 
 mined to go back, in spite of all I can say, you must 
 attend to me well while I give you as simple instructions 
 as I can. You say you know the four points of the 
 wind, north, south, east, and west." 
 
 "Yis, sir." 
 
 "How do you know them? for I must see that you 
 are not likely to make a mistake. How do you know 
 the points?" 
 
 " Why, you see, sir, the sun, God bless it, rises in the 
 aist, and sets in the west, which stands to raison; and 
 whin you stand betuxt the aist and the west, the 
 north is fominst you."
 
 32 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "And when the north is forninst you, as you say, is 
 the east on your right or your left hand?" 
 
 "On the right hand, your honour." 
 
 "Well, I see you know that much, however. Now," 
 said the captain, "the moment you leave the ship, you 
 must steer a north-east course, and you will make some 
 land near home in about a week, if the wind holds as 
 it is now, and it is likely to do so ; but, mind me, if 
 you turn out of your course in the smallest degree, you 
 are a lost man." 
 
 " Many thanks to your honour ! " 
 
 "And how are you off for provisions?" 
 
 "Why thin, indeed in the regard o 1 that same we are 
 in the hoighth o' disthress, for exceptin' the scalpeens, 
 sorra taste passed our lips for these four days." 
 
 "Oh! you poor devils!" said the commander, in a tone 
 of sincere commiseration, " I'll order you some provisions 
 on board before you start." 
 
 " Long life to your honour ! and I'd like to drink the 
 health of so noble a jintleman." 
 
 "I understand you, Paddy, you shall have grog too." 
 
 " Musha, the heavens shower blessins an you. I pray 
 the Virgin Mary and the twelve apostles, Matthew, Mark, 
 Luke, and John, not forgettin 1 Saint Pathrick." 
 
 "Thank you, Paddy; but keep all your prayers for 
 yourself, for you need them all to help you home again." 
 
 "Oh! never fear, whin the thing is to be done, I'll do 
 it, by dad, wid a heart and a half. And sure, your
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 33 
 
 honour, God is good, an 1 will mind dissolute craythurs like 
 uz, on the wild oceant as well as ashore." 
 
 While some of the ship's crew were putting the cap- 
 tain's benevolent intentions to Barny and his companions 
 into practice, by transferring some provisions to the hooker, 
 the commander entertained himself by further conversation 
 with Barny, who was the greatest original he had ever 
 met. In the course of their colloquy, Barny drove many 
 hard queries at the captain, respecting the wonders of 
 the nautical profession, and at last put the question to 
 him plump. 
 
 "Oh! thin captain dear, and how is it at all at all, 
 that you make your way over the wide says intirely to 
 them furrin parts? 11 
 
 " You would not understand, Paddy, if I attempted to 
 explain to you. 11 
 
 " Sure enough indeed, your honour, and I ask your par- 
 don, only I was curious to know, and sure no wonder. 11 
 
 "It requires various branches of knowledge to make a 
 navigator. 11 
 
 "Branches, 11 said Barny, "by gor, I think it id take 
 the whole three o 1 knowledge to make it out. And that 
 place you are going to, sir, that Bingal (oh bad luck to 
 it for a Bingal, it's the sore Bingal to me), its it so far 
 aff as you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, Paddy, half round the world. 11 
 
 " Is it round in airnest, captain dear ? Round about ? " 
 
 "Aye indeed. 11
 
 34 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Oh thin arVt you afeard that whin you come to the 
 top and that your obleeged to go down, that you'd go 
 sliddherin away intirely, and never be able to stop maybe. 
 It's bad enough, so it is, goin' down-hill by land, but it 
 must be the dickens all out by wather." 
 
 "But there is no hill, Paddy, don't you know that 
 water is always level?" 
 
 " By dad it's very flat anyhow, and by the same token 
 it's seldom I throuble it; but sure, your honour, if the 
 wather is level, how do you make out that it is round 
 you go!" 
 
 "That is a part of the knowledge I was speaking to 
 you about," said the captain. 
 
 "Musha, bad luck to you, knowledge, but you're a 
 quare thing! and where is it Bingal, bad cess to it, would 
 be at all at all?" 
 
 "In the East Indies." 
 
 "Oh that is where they make the tay, isn't it, sir?" 
 
 "No, where the tea grows is farther still." 
 
 " Farther! why that must be the ind of the world intirely. 
 And they don't make it, then, sir, but it grows, you tell me." 
 
 "Yes, Paddy." 
 
 "Is it like hay, your honour?" 
 
 "Not exactly, Paddy; what puts hay in your head?" 
 
 "Oh! only bekase I hear them call it Bohay." 
 
 "A most logical deduction, Paddy." 
 
 " And is it a great deal farther, your honour, the tay 
 country is?"
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 35 
 
 "Yes, Paddy. China it is called." 
 
 "That's, I suppose, what we call Chaynee, sir?" 
 
 "Exactly, Paddy." 
 
 " By dad, I never could come at it rightly before, why 
 it was nath'ral to dhrink tay out o' chaynee. I ax your 
 honour's pardin for bein' throublesome, but I hard tell 
 from the long sailor, iv a place they call Japan, in thim 
 furrin parts, and is it there, your honour?" 
 
 "Quite true, Paddy." 
 
 "And I suppose it's there the blackin' comes form." 
 
 "No, Paddy, you're out there." 
 
 " Oh well, I thought it stood to rayson, as I heerd of 
 japan blacking sir, that it would be there it kem from, 
 besides as the blacks themselves the naygurs I mane, is 
 in thim parts." 
 
 " The negroes are in Africa, Paddy, much nearer to us." 
 
 "God betune uz and harm. I hope I would not be 
 too near them," said Barny. 
 
 "Why, what's your objection?" 
 
 " Arrah sure, sir, they're hardly mortials at all, but 
 has the mark o' the bastes an thim." 
 
 "How do you make out that, Paddy?" 
 
 " Why sure, sir, and did n't Nathur make thim wid wool 
 on their heads, plainly makin' it undherstood to chrishthans, 
 that they wur little more nor cattle." 
 
 "I think your head is a wool-gathering now, Paddy," 
 said the captain, laughing. 
 
 " Faix, maybe so, indeed," answered Bamy, goodhumour-
 
 36 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 edly, "but it's seldom I ever went out to look for wool 
 and kem home shorn, anyhow," said he, with a look of 
 triumph. 
 
 "Well, you won't have that to say for the future, 
 Paddy," said the captain, laughing again. 
 
 "My name's not Paddy, your honour," said Barny 
 returning the laugh, but seizing the opportunity to turn 
 the joke aside, that was going against him, "my name 
 isn't Paddy, sir, but Barny." 
 
 "Oh, if it was Solomon, you'll be bare enough when 
 you go home this time ; you have not gathered much this 
 trip, Barny." 
 
 "Sure I've been gathering knowledge, anyhow, your 
 honour," said Barny, with a significant look at the captain, 
 and a complimentary tip of his hand to his caubeen, 
 "and God bless you for being so good to me." 
 
 "And what's your name besides Barny?" asked the 
 captain. 
 
 " O'Reirdon, your honour Barny O'Reirdon's my name." 
 
 " Well, Barny O'Reirdon, I won't forget your name nor 
 yourself in a hurry, for you are certainly the most original 
 navigator I ever had the honour of being acquainted with." 
 
 u Well," said Barny, with a triumphant toss of his head, 
 "I have done out Terry O'Sullivan, at any rate, the 
 devil a half so far he ever was, and that's a comfort. I 
 have muzzled his clack for the rest iv his life, and he 
 won't be comin' over us wid the prate iv his Fingal, while 
 I'm to the fore, that was a'most at Bingal."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 37 
 
 "Terry O'Sullivan who is he, pray?"" said the captain. 
 
 " Oh, he's a scut iv a chap that's not worth your axin 
 for he's not worth your honour's notice a braggin' poor 
 craythur. Oh wait till I get home, and the devil a more 
 braggin' they'll hear out of his jaw." 
 
 "Indeed then, Barny, the sooner you turn your face 
 towards home the better," said the captain, "since you 
 will go, there is no need in losing more time." 
 
 " Thine for you, your honour and sure it's well for me 
 I had the luck to meet with the likes o' your honour, that 
 explained the ins and the outs iv it to me, and laid it 
 all down as plain as prent." 
 
 " Are you sure you remember my directions ? " said the 
 captain. 
 
 "Throth an' I'll niver forget them to the day o' my 
 death, and '11 be bound to pray, more betoken, for you 
 and yours." 
 
 "Don't mind praying for me till you get home, Barny; 
 but answer me, how are you to steer when you shall 
 leave me?" 
 
 "The Nor-Aist coorse, your honour, that's the coorse 
 agin the world." 
 
 "Remember that! never alter that course till you see 
 land let nothing make you turn out of a North-East 
 course." 
 
 "Throth an' that id be the dirty turn, seein' that it 
 was yourself that ordered it. Oh no, I'll depend my life 
 an the Nor-Aist coorse, and God help any one that comes
 
 38 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 betune me an' it I'd run him down if he was my father. 11 
 
 "Well, good-bye, Barny." 
 
 " Good-bye, and God bless you, your honour, and send 
 you safe.' 1 
 
 "That's a wish you want more for yourself, Barny 
 never fear for me, but mind yourself well." 
 
 " Oh sure, I'm as good as at home wanst I know the 
 way, barrin' the wind is conthrary; sure the Nor-Aist 
 coorse 'ill do the business complate. Good-bye, your honour, 
 and long life to you, and more power to your elbow, and 
 a light heart and a heavy purse to you evermore, I pray 
 the blessed Virgin and all the saints, amin!" and so saying, 
 Barny descended the ship's side, and once more assumed 
 the helm of the "hardy hooker." 
 
 The two vessels now separated on their opposite courses. 
 What a contrast their relative situations afforded! Proudly 
 the ship bore away under her lofty and spreading canvas, 
 cleaving the billows before her, manned by an able crew, 
 and under the guidance of experienced officers. The finger 
 of science to point the course of her progress, the faithful 
 chart to warn of the hidden rock and the shoal, the log 
 line and the quadrant to measure her march and prove 
 her position. The poor little hooker cleft not the billows, 
 each wave lifted her on its crest like a seabird ; but three 
 inexperienced fishermen to manage her; no certain means 
 to guide them over the vast ocean they had to traverse, 
 and the holding of the " fickle wind " the only chance of 
 their escape from perishing in the wilderness of waters.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 39 
 
 By the one, the feeling excited is supremely that of man's 
 power. By the other, of his utter helplessness. To the 
 one, the expanse of ocean could scarcely be considered 
 "trackless. 11 To the other, it was a waste indeed. 
 
 Yet the cheer that burst from the ship, at parting, 
 was answered as gaily from the hooker as though the odds 
 had not been so fearfully against her, and no blither 
 heart beat on board the ship than that of Barny O'Reirdon. 
 
 Happy light-heartedness of my poor countrymen! they 
 have often need of all their buoyant spirits! How kindly 
 have they been fortified by Nature against the assaults 
 of adversity; and if they blindly rush into dangers, they 
 cannot be denied the possession of gallant hearts to fight 
 their way out of them. 
 
 But each hurra became less audible; by degrees the 
 cheers dwindled into faintness, and finally were lost in 
 the eddies of the breeze. 
 
 The first feeling of loneliness that poor Barny ex- 
 perienced was when he could no longer hear the exhilar- 
 ating sound. The plash of the surge, as it broke on the 
 bows of his little boat, was uninterrupted by the kindred 
 sound of human voice; and, as it fell upon his ear, it 
 smote upon his heart. But he rallied, waved his hat, and 
 the silent signal was answered from the ship. 
 
 "Well, Barny, 11 said Jemmy, "what was the captain 
 sayin 1 to you all the time you wor wid him? 11 
 
 "Lay me alone, 11 said Barny, "Til talk to you when 
 I see her out o 1 sight, but not a word till thin. Fll look
 
 40 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 after him, the rale gintleman that he is, while there's a 
 topsail of his ship to be seen, and then I'll send my 
 blessin' after him, and pray for his good fortune wherever 
 he goes, for he's the right sort and nothin' else." And 
 Barny kept his word, and when his straining eye could 
 no longer trace a line of the ship, the captain certainly 
 had the benefit of "a poor man's blessing." 
 
 The sense of utter loneliness and desolation had not 
 come upon Barny until now ; but he put his trust in the 
 goodness of Providence, and in a fervent inward out- 
 pouring of prayer, resigned himself to the care of his 
 Creator. With an admirable fortitude, too, he assumed 
 a composure to his companions that was a stranger to 
 his heart; and we all know the burden of anxiety is in- 
 creased when we have none with whom to sympathise. 
 And this was not all. He had to affect ease and con- 
 fidence, for Barny not only had no dependence on the 
 firmness of his companions to go through the undertaking 
 before them, but dreaded to betray to them how he had 
 imposed on them in the affair. Barny was equal to all 
 this. He had a stout heart, and was an admirable actor ; 
 yet, for the first hour after the ship was out of sight, 
 he could not quite recover himself, and every now and 
 then, unconsciously, he would look back with a wistful 
 eye to the point where last he saw her. Poor Barny 
 had lost his leader. 
 
 The night fell, and Barny stuck to the helm as long 
 as nature could sustain want of rest, and then left it in
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 41 
 
 charge of one of his companions, with particular direc- 
 tions how to steer, and ordered, if any change in the 
 wind occurred, that they should instantly awake him. 
 He could not sleep long, however, the fever of anxiety 
 was upon him, and the morning had not long dawned 
 when he awoke. He had not well rubbed his eyes and 
 looked about him, when he thought he saw a ship in the 
 distance, approaching them. As the haze cleared away, 
 she showed distinctly bearing down towards the hooker. 
 On board the ship, the hooker, in such a sea, caused 
 surprise as before, and in about an hour she was so 
 close as to hail, and order the hooker to run under 
 her lee. 
 
 "The devil a taste, 11 said Barny, 'Til not quit my 
 Nor-Aist coorse for the king of Ingland, nor Bonyparty 
 into the bargain. Bad cess to you, do you think I've 
 nothin 1 to do but to plaze you? 1 ' 
 
 Again he was hailed. 
 
 "Oh! bad luck to the toe I'll go to you." 
 
 Another hail. 
 
 "Spake loudher you'd betther," said Barny, jeeringly, 
 still holding on his course. 
 
 A gun was fired ahead of him. 
 
 " By my sowl, you spoke loudher that time, sure enough," 
 said Barny. 
 
 "Take care, Barny," cried Jemmy and Peter together. 
 "Blur an agers, man, we'll be kilt if you don't go to 
 them."
 
 42 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Well, and we'll be lost if we turn out iv our Nor- 
 Aist coorse, and that's as broad as its long. Let them 
 hit uz if they like ; sure it 'ud be a pleasanther death nor 
 starvin' at say. I tell you agin I'll turn out o' my Nor- 
 Aist coorse for no man." 
 
 A shotted gun was fired. The shot hopped on the 
 water as it passed before the hooker. 
 
 "Phew! you missed it, like your mammy's blessin'," 
 said Barny. 
 
 "Oh murther!" said Jemmy, "didn't you see the ball 
 hop aff the wather fominst you. Oh murther, what 'ud 
 we ha' done if we wor there at all at all?" 
 
 "Why, we'd have taken the ball at the hop," said 
 Barny, laughing, "accordin' to the ould sayinV 
 
 Another shot was ineffectually fired. 
 
 " I'm thinking that's a Connaughtman that's shootin'," 8 
 said Barny, with a sneer. The allusion was so relished 
 by Jemmy and Peter, that it excited a smile in the midst 
 of their fears from the cannonade. 
 
 Again the report of the gun was followed by no damage. 
 
 "Augh! never heed them!" said Barny, contemptuously. 
 " It's a barkin' dog that never bites, as the owld sayin' 
 says," and the hooker was soon out of reach of further 
 annoyance. 
 
 "Now, what a pity it was, to be sure," said Barny, 
 "that I wouldn't go aboord to plaze them. Now, who's 
 right? Ah, lave me alone always, Jimmy; did you iver 
 know me wrong yet?"
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 43 
 
 "Oh, you may hillo now that you're out o' the 
 wood," said Jemmy, "but, accordin' to my idays, it was 
 runnin' a grate rishk to be contrary wid them at all, and 
 they shootin' balls afther us." 
 
 "Well, what matther?" said Barny, "since they wor 
 only blind gunners, an"* I knew it; besides, as I said 
 afore, I won't turn out o' my Nor-Aist coorse for no 
 man." 
 
 "That's a new turn you tuk lately," said Peter. 
 " What's the raison you're runnin a Nor-Aist coorse now 
 an' we never hear'd iv it afore at all, till afther you 
 quitted the big ship?" 
 
 " Why, thin, are you sitch an ignoramus all out," said 
 Barny, " as not for to know that in navigation you must 
 lie an a great many different tacks before you can make 
 the port you steer for?" 
 
 " Only I think," said Jemmy, " that it's back intirely 
 we're goin' now, and I can't make out the rights o' that 
 at all." 
 
 "Why," said Barny, who saw the necessity of mystifying 
 his companions a little, "you see, the captain towld me 
 that I kem a round, an' rekimminded me to go th'other 
 way." 
 
 "Faix, it's the first I ever heard o' goin' a round by 
 say," said Jemmy. 
 
 "Arrah, sure, that's part o' the say crets o' navigation, 
 and the various branches o' knowledge that is requizit 
 for a navigathor; an' that's what the captain, God bless
 
 44 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 him, and myself was discoorsin' an aboord; and, like a 
 rale gentleman as he is, Barny, says he ; Sir, says I ; 
 you've come the round, says he. I know that, says I, 
 bekase I like to keep a good bowld offin', says I, in 
 contrairy places. Spoke like a good sayman, says he. 
 That's my prenciple, says I. They're the right sort, 
 says he. But, says he (no offince), I think you wor 
 wrong, says he, to pass the short turn in the ladieshoes 9 , 
 says he. I know, says I, you mane beside the three-spike 
 headlan'. That's the spot, says he, I see you know it. 
 As well as I know my father, says I." 
 
 "Why, Barny," said Jemmy, interrupting him, "we 
 seen no headlan' at all." 
 
 "Whisht, whisht!" said Barny, "bad cess to you, 
 don't thwart me. We passed it in the night, and you 
 couldn't see it. Well, as I was saying, I knew it as well 
 as I know my father, says I, but I gev the preferrince 
 to go the round, says I. You're a good sayman for that 
 same, says he, an' it would be right at any other time 
 than this present, says he, but it's onpossible now, tee- 
 totally, on account o' the war, says he. Tare alive, says 
 I, what war? An' didn't you hear o' the war? says he. 
 Divil a word, says I. Why, says he, the Naygurs has 
 made war on the king o' Chaynee, says he, bekase he 
 refused them any more tay ; an ' with that, what did they 
 do, says he, but they put a lumbaago 10 on all the vessels 
 that sails the round, an' that's the rayson, says he, I 
 carry guns, as you may see ; and I'd rekimmind you, says
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 45 
 
 he, to go back, for you're not able for thim, an 1 that's 
 jist the way iv it. An' now, wasn't it looky that I kem 
 acrass him at all, or maybe we might be cotch by the 
 Naygurs, and ate up alive. " 
 
 "Oh thin, indeed, and that's thrue," said Jemmy and 
 Peter; "and when will we come to the short turn?" 
 
 " Oh never mind," said Barny, "you'll see it when 
 you get there; but wait till I tell you more about the 
 captain and the big ship. He said, you know, that he 
 carried guns for fear o' the Naygurs, and in throth it's the 
 height o' care he takes o' them same guns; and small 
 blame to him, sure they might be the salvation of him. 
 'Pon my conscience, they're taken betther care of than 
 any poor man's child. I heer'd him cautionin' the sail- 
 ors about them, and given them ordhers about their 
 clothes." 
 
 " Their clothes ! " said his two companions at once in 
 much surprise; "is it clothes upon canons?" 
 
 "It's truth I'm tellin' you," said Barny. "Bad luck 
 to the lie in it, he was talkin' about their aprons and 
 their breeches." 
 
 "Oh, think o' that!" said Jemmy and Peter in surprise. 
 
 "An' 'twas all iv a piece," said Barny, "that an' the 
 rest o' the ship all out. She was as nate as a new pin. 
 Throth I was a'most ashamed to put my fut an the deck, 
 it was so clane, and she painted every colour in the rain- 
 bow; and all sorts o' curiosities about her; and instead 
 iv a tiller to steer her, like this darlin' craythur iv ours,
 
 46 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 she goes wid a wheel, like a coach all as one ; and there's 
 the quarest thing you iver seen, to show the way, as the 
 captain gev me to undherstan ', a little round rowly- 
 powly thing in a bowl, that goes waddlin' about as if 
 it didn't know its own way, much more nor show any 
 body theirs. Throth, myself thought that if that's the 
 way they're obliged to go, that it's with a great deal of 
 fear and thrimblin' they find it out." 
 
 Thus it was that Barny continued most marvellous 
 accounts of the ship and the captain to his companions, 
 and by keeping their attention so engaged, prevented 
 their being too inquisitive as to their own immediate 
 concerns, and for two days more Barny and the hooker 
 held on their respective courses undeviatingly. 
 
 The third day, Barny's fears for the continuity of 
 his " nor-aist coorse " were excited, as a large brig hove in 
 sight, and the nearer she approached, the more directly 
 she came athwart Barny's course. 
 
 "May the divil sweep you," said Barny, "and will 
 nothin' else sarve you than comin' forninst me that a- way. 
 Brig-a-hoy there ! ! " shouted Barny, giving the tiller to 
 one of his messmates, and standing at the bow of his 
 boat. " Brig-a-hoy there ! bad luck to you, go 'long out 
 o' my nor-aist coorse." The brig, instead of obeying his 
 mandate, hove to, and lay right ahead of the hooker. 
 " Oh look at this ! " shouted Barny, and he stamped on 
 the deck with rage "look at the blackguards where 
 they're stay in', just a-purpose to ruin an unfort'nate man
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 47 
 
 like me. My heavy hathred to you, quit this minit, or 
 Til run down an yes, and if we go to the bottom, we'll 
 hant you for ever more go 'long out o' that, I tell you. 
 The curse o' Crummil 11 an you, you stupid vagabones, 
 that won't go out iv a man's nor-aist coorse ! !" 
 
 From cursing Barny went to praying as he came closer. 
 " For the tendher marcy o' heavin, lave my way. May 
 the Lord reward you, and get out o' my nor-aist coorse ! 
 May angels make your bed in heavin and don't ruinate 
 me this-a-way." The brig was immovable, and Barny 
 gave up in despair, having cursed and prayed himself 
 hoarse, and finished with a duet volley of prayers and 
 curses together, apostrophising the hard case of a man 
 being "done out of his nor-aist coorse." 
 
 " A-hoy there ! " shouted a voice from the brig, " put 
 down your helm, or you'll be aboard of us. I say, let 
 go your jib and foresheet what are you about, you 
 lubbers ? " 
 
 Twas true that the brig lay so fair in Barny's course, 
 that he would have been aboard, but that instantly the 
 manoeuvre above alluded to was put in practice on board 
 the hooker, as she swept to destruction towards the 
 heavy hull of the brig, and she luffed up into the wind 
 alongside her. A very pale and somewhat emaciated 
 face appeared at the side, and addressed Barny. 
 
 "What brings you here?" was the question. 
 
 "Throth thin, and I think I might betther ax what 
 brings you here, right in the way o' my nor-aist coorse."
 
 48 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 "From Kinsale; and you didn't come from a betther 
 place, I go bail."" 
 
 "Where are you bound to?" 
 
 "To Fingal" 
 
 " Fingal where's Fingal ? " 
 
 "Why thin, ain't you ashamed o' yourself an' not to 
 know where Fingal is?" 
 
 "It is not in these seas." 
 
 "Oh, that's all you know about it," says Barny. 
 
 "You're a small craft to be so far at sea. I suppose 
 you have provision on board." 
 
 "To be sure we have; throth if we hadn't, this id be 
 
 i 
 
 a bad place to go a beggin'." 
 
 "What have you eatable?" 
 
 "The finest o' scalpeens.^ 
 
 "What are scalpeens?" 
 
 "Why, you're mighty ignorant intirely," said Barny; 
 " why, scalpeens is pickled mackerel." 
 
 "Then you must give us some, for we have been out 
 of everything eatable these three days; and even pickled 
 fish is better than nothing." 
 
 It chanced that the brig was a West Indian trader, 
 that unfavourable winds had delayed much beyond the 
 expected period of time on her voyage, and though her 
 water had not failed, everything eatable had been con- 
 sumed, and the crew reduced almost to helplessness. In 
 such a strait the arrival of Barny O'Reirdon and his
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 49 
 
 scalpeens was a most providential succour to them, and a 
 lucky chance for Barny, for he got in exchange for his 
 pickled fish a handsome return of rum and sugar, much 
 more than equivalent to their value. Barny lamented 
 much, however, that the brig was not bound for Ireland, 
 that he might practise his own peculiar system of navi- 
 gation ; but as staying with the brig could do no good, 
 he got himself put into his nor-aist coorse once more, and 
 ploughed away towards home. 
 
 The disposal of his cargo was a great godsend to Barny 
 in more ways than one. In the first place, he found the 
 most profitable market he could have had ; and, secondly, 
 it enabled him to cover his retreat from the difficulty 
 which still was before him, of not getting to Fingal after 
 all his dangers and consequently being open to discovery 
 and disgrace. All these beneficial results were not thrown 
 away upon one of Barny's readiness to avail himself of 
 every point in his favour; and, accordingly, when they 
 left the brig, Barny said to his companions, " Why thin, 
 boys, 'pon my conscience but I'm as proud as a horse 
 wid a wooden leg this minit, that we met them poor 
 unfort'nate craythers this blissed day, and was enabled 
 to extind our charity to them. Sure an' it's lost they'd 
 be only for our comin' acrass them, and we, through the 
 blessin' o' God, enabled to do an act of marcy, that is, 
 feedin' the hungry; and sure every good work we do 
 here is before uz in heaven and that's a comfort any 
 how. To be sure, now that the scalpeens is sowld,
 
 there's no use in goin' to Fingal, and we may as well jist 
 go home." 
 
 "Faix, Fm sorry myself," said Jemmy, "for Terry 
 O'Sullivan said it was an iligant place intirely, an" 1 I 
 wanted to see it." 
 
 "To the divil wid Terry O'Sullivan," said Barny, 
 "what does he know what's an iligant place? What 
 knowledge has he of iligance? I'll go bail he never was 
 half as far a navigatin' as we he wint the short cut 
 I go bail, and never daar'd for to vinture the round, 
 as I did." 
 
 "By dad, we wor a great dale longer anyhow, than 
 he towld me he was." 
 
 "To be sure we wor," said Barny, "he wint skulkin' 
 by the short cut, I tell you, and was afeard to keep a 
 bowld offin' like me. But come, boys, let uz take a dhrop 
 o' that sper'ts we got out o' the brig. By gor, it's well 
 we got some bottles iv it; for I wouldn't much like to 
 meddle wid that darlint little kag iv it antil we get 
 home." The rum was put on its trial by Barny and his 
 companions, and in their critical judgment was pronounced 
 quite as good as the captain of the ship had bestowed 
 upon them, but that neither of those specimens of spirit 
 was to be compared to whiskey. " By dad," says Barny, 
 "they may rack their brains a long time before they'll 
 make out a purtier invintion than poteen that rum may 
 do very well for thim that has the misforthin not to 
 know betther; but the whiskey is a more nath'ral sper't
 
 BARNY OHEIRDON 51 
 
 accordin 1 to my idays." In this, as in most other of 
 Bamy's opinions, Peter and Jemmy coincided. 
 
 Nothing particular occurred for the two succeeding days, 
 during which time Barny most religiously pursued his 
 " Nor-Aist coorse," but the third day produced a new and 
 important event. A sail was discovered on the horizon, 
 and in the direction Barny was steering, and a couple of 
 hours made him tolerably certain that the vessel in sight 
 was an American, for though it is needless to say that 
 he was not very conversant in such matters, yet from the 
 frequency of his seeing Americans trading to Ireland, his 
 eye had become sufficiently accustomed to their lofty and 
 tapering spars, and peculiar smartness of rig, to satisfy 
 him that the ship before him was of transatlantic build : 
 nor was he wrong in his conjecture. 
 
 Barny now determined on a manoeuvre, classing him 
 amongst the first tacticians at securing a good retreat. 
 
 Moreau's highest fame rests upon his celebrated retro- 
 grade movement through the Black Forest. 
 
 Xenophon's greatest glory is derived from the deliverance 
 of his ten thousand Greeks from impending ruin by his 
 renowned retreat. 
 
 Let the ancient and the modern hero "repose under 
 the shadow of their laurels," as the French have it, while 
 Barny O'Reirdon's historian, with a pardonable jealousy 
 for the honour of his country, cuts down a goodly bough 
 of the classic tree, beneath which our Hibernian hero 
 may enjoy his otium cum digmtate.
 
 52 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 Barny calculated the American was bound for Ireland, 
 and as she lay almost as directly in the way of his 
 "Nor-Aist coorse" as the West Indian brig, he bore up 
 to and spoke her. 
 
 He was answered by a shrewd Yankee Captain. 
 
 "Faix, an' it's glad I am to see your honour again," 
 said Barny. 
 
 The Yankee had never been to Ireland, and told 
 Barny so. 
 
 "Oh throth, I couldn't forget a gintleman so aisy as 
 that," said Barny. 
 
 "You're pretty considerably mistaken now, I guess," 
 said the American. 
 
 " Divil a taste," said Barny, with inimitable composure 
 and pertinacity. 
 
 "Well, if you know me so tarnation well, tell me 
 what's my name." The Yankee flattered himself he had 
 nailed Barny now. 
 
 "Your name, is it?" said Barny, gaining time by 
 repeating the question. " Why, what a fool you are not 
 to know your own name." 
 
 The oddity of the answer posed the American, and 
 Barny took advantage of the diversion in his favour, and 
 changed the conversation. 
 
 " By dad, I've been waitin' here these four or five days, 
 expectin' some of you would be wantin' me." 
 
 "Some of us! How do you mean?" 
 
 "Sure an' arn't you from Amerikay?"
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 53 
 
 "Yes; and what then?" 
 
 "Well, I say I was waitin 1 for some ship or other 
 from Amerikay, that ud be wantin 1 me. It's to Ireland 
 you're goin 1 I dar 1 say. 11 
 
 "Yes. 11 
 
 "Well, I suppose you 1 !! be wantin 1 a pilot, 11 said Barny. 
 
 "Yes, when we get in shore, but not yet. 11 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to hurry you, 11 said Barny. 
 
 "What port are you a pilot of?" 
 
 " Why indeed, as for the matther of that," said Barny, 
 "they're all aiqual to me a'most." 
 
 "All?" said the American. "Why, I calculate you 
 couldn't pilot a ship into all the ports of Ireland." 
 
 " Not all at wanst," said Barny, with a laugh, in which 
 the American could not help joining. 
 
 " Well, I say, what ports do you know best ? " 
 
 "Why thin, indeed," sad Barny, "it would be hard 
 for me to tell; but wherever you want to go, I'm the 
 man that'll do the job for you complate. Where is your 
 honour goin'?" 
 
 " I won't tell you that but do you tell me what ports 
 you know best?" 
 
 " Why, there's Watherford, an 1 there's Youghal an' 
 Fingal." 
 
 "Fingal! Where's that?" 
 
 " So you don't know where Fingal is ? Oh, I see you're 
 a sthranger, sir, an' then there's Cork." 
 
 " You know Cove, then."
 
 54 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Is it the Cove o 1 Cork why? 11 
 
 "Yes/ 1 
 
 "I was bred an 1 born there, and pilots as many ships 
 into Cove as any other two min out of it.' 1 
 
 Barny thus sheltered his falsehood under the idiom of 
 his language. 
 
 " But what brought you so far out to sea ? " asked the 
 Captain. 
 
 " We wor lyin 1 out lookin 1 for ships that wanted pilots, 
 and there kem an the terriblest gale o 1 wind aff the land, 
 an 1 blew us to say out intirely, an 1 that's the way iv it, 
 your honour. 11 
 
 " I calculate we got a share of the same gale ; 'twas 
 from the nor-east. 11 
 
 " Oh, directly ! " said Barny, " faith, you're right enough, 
 'twas the Nor-Aist coorse we wor an sure enough; but 
 no matther now that we've met wid you sure we'll have 
 a job home anyhow." 
 
 "Well, get aboard then," said the American. 
 
 "I will in a minit, your honour, whin I jist spake a 
 word to my comrades here." 
 
 " Why, sure it's not goin 1 to turn pilot you are ? " said 
 Jemmy, in his simplicity of heart. 
 
 "Whisht, you omadhaun!' 1 '' said Barny, "or I'll cut the 
 tongue out o 1 you. Now mind me, Pether. You don't 
 undherstan 1 navigashin and the various branches o 1 know- 
 ledge, an 1 so all you have to do is to folly the ship when 
 I get into her, an' I'll show you the way home."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON 55 
 
 Barny then got aboard the American vessel, and begged 
 the captain, that as he had been out at sea so long, and 
 gone through " a power o 1 hardship intirely, 11 that he would 
 be permitted to go below and turn in to take a sleep, " for 
 in troth it's myself and sleep that is sthrayngers for some 
 time, 11 said Barny, "an 1 if your honour "ill be plazed Til 
 be thankful if, you won't let them disturb me antil I'm 
 wanted, for sure till you see the land there's no use for 
 me in life, an 1 throth I want a sleep sorely. 11 
 
 Barny's request was granted, 'and it will not be wondered 
 at, that after so much fatigue of mind and body, he 
 slept profoundly for four-and-twenty hours. He then 
 was called, for land was in sight, and when he .came on 
 deck the captain rallied him upon the potency of his 
 somniferous qualities and "calculated 11 he had never met 
 any one who could sleep "four-and-twenty hours on a 
 stretch, before." 
 
 " Oh, sir, 11 said Barny, rubbing his eyes, which were still 
 a little hazy, " whiniver I go to sleep I pay attintion to it." 
 
 The land was soon neared, and Barny put in charge 
 of the ship, when he ascertained the first landmark he 
 was acquainted with ; but as soon as the Head of Kinsale 
 hove in sight, Barny gave a "whoo," and cut a caper 
 that astonished the Yankees, and was quite inexplicable 
 to them, though I flatter myself, it is not to those who 
 do Barny the favour of reading his adventures. 
 
 "Oh! there you are, my darlint ould head! an' where's 
 the head like you ? throth, it's little I thought I'd ever set
 
 56 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 eyes an your good-looking faytures agin. But God's 
 good!" 
 
 In such half-muttered exclamations did Barny apostro- 
 phise each well-known point of his native shore, and, 
 when opposite the harbour of Kinsale he spoke the hooker 
 that was somewhat astern, and ordered Jemmy and Peter 
 to put in there, and tell Molly immediately that he was 
 come back, and would be with her as soon as he could, 
 after piloting the ship into Cove. "But an your apperl 
 don't tell Pether Kelly o' the big farm, nor indeed don't 
 mintion to man nor mortal about the navigation we done 
 antil I come home myself and make them sinsible of it, 
 bekase Jemmy and Pether, neither o' yiz is aqual to it, 
 and doesn't undherstan' the branches o' knowledge requizit 
 for discoorsin' o' navigation." 
 
 The hooker put into Kinsale, and Barny sailed the ship 
 into Cove. It was the first ship he ever had acted the 
 pilot for, and his old luck attended him ; no accident 
 befell his charge, and what was still more extraordinary, 
 he made the American believe he was absolutely the most 
 skilful pilot on the station. So Barny pocketed his pilot's 
 fee, swore the Yankee was a gentleman, for which the 
 republican did not thank him, wished him good-bye, and 
 then pushed his way home with what Barny swore was 
 the easiest made money he ever had in his life. So Barny 
 got himself paid for piloting the ship that showed him 
 the way home. 
 
 All the fishermen in the world may throw their caps
 
 BARNY (TREIRDON 57 
 
 at this feat none but an Irishman, I fearlessly assert, 
 could have executed so splendid a coup de finesse. 
 
 And now, sweet readers (the ladies I mean), did you 
 ever think Barny would get home ? I would give a hun- 
 dred of pens to hear all the guesses that have been made 
 as to the probable termination of Barny's adventure. 
 They would furnish good material, I doubt not, for another 
 voyage. But Barny did make other voyages, I can assure 
 you; and, perhaps, he may appear in his character of 
 navigation once more, if his daring exploits be not held 
 valueless by an ungrateful world, as in the case of his 
 great predecessor Columbus. 
 
 As some curious persons (I don't mean the ladies) may 
 wish to know what became of some of the characters who 
 have figured in this tale, I beg to inform them that 
 Molly continued a faithful wife and timekeeper, as already 
 alluded to, for many years. That Peter Kelly was so 
 pleased with his share in the profits arising from the 
 trip, in the ample return of rum and sugar, that he 
 freighted a large brig with scalpeens to the West Indies, 
 and went supercargo himself. 
 
 All he got in return was the yellow fever. 
 
 Barny profited better by his share; he was enabled to 
 open a public-house, which had more custom than any 
 within ten miles of it. Molly managed the bar very 
 efficiently, and Barny " discoorsed " the customers most 
 seductively; in short, Barny, at all times given to the 
 marvellous, became a greater romancer than ever, and,
 
 58 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 for years, attracted even the gentlemen of the neighbour- 
 hood, who loved fun, to his house, for the sake of his 
 magnanimous mendacity. 
 
 As for the hitherto triumphant Terry O'Sullivan, from 
 the moment Barny's Bingal adventure became known, he 
 was obliged to fly the country, and was never heard of 
 more, while the hero of the hooker became a greater man 
 than before, and never was addressed by any other title 
 afterwards than that of THE COMMODORE.
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE. 
 
 With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 IT was a fine morning in the autumn of 1832, and 
 the sun had not yet robbed the grass of its dew, as a 
 stout-built peasant was moving briskly along a small by- 
 road in the county of Tipperary. The elasticity of his 
 step bespoke the lightness of his heart, and even the 
 rapidity of his walk did not seem sufficient for the exu- 
 berance of his glee, for every now and then the walk 
 was exchanged for a sort of dancing shuffle, which ter- 
 minated with a short capering kick that threw up the 
 dust about him, and all the while he whistled one of 
 those whimsical jig tunes with which Ireland abounds, 
 and twirled his stick over his head in a triumphal flourish. 
 Then off he started again at his original pace, and hummed 
 a rollicking song, and occasionally broke out into soliloquy 
 "Why then, an' isn't it the grate day intirely for 
 Ireland that is in it this blessed day. Whoo! your sowl 
 to glory, but we'll do the job complate " and here he 
 cut a caper. " Divil a more they'll ever get, and it's only 
 a pity they ever got any but there's an ind o' them 
 now they're cut down from this out," and here he made
 
 60 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 an appropriate down stroke of his shillelah through a 
 bunch of thistles that skirted the road. " Where will be 
 their grand doings now? eh? I'd like to know that. 
 Where'll be their lazy livery sarvants? ow! ow!!" and 
 he sprang lightly over a stile. " And what will they do 
 for their coaches and four? 11 Here a lark sprang up at 
 his feet and darted into the air with its thrilling rush 
 of exquisite melody. "Faith, you've given me my answer 
 sure enough, my purty lark that's as much as to say, 
 they may go whistle for them oh, my poor fellows, how 
 I pity yiz; 11 and here he broke into a "too ra lal loo" 
 and danced along the path: then suddenly dropping 
 into silence he resumed his walk, and applying his hand 
 behind his head, cocked up his caubeen and began to rub 
 behind his ear, according to the most approved peasant 
 practice of assisting the powers of reflection. "Faix, an 1 
 it's myself that's puzzled to know what'll the procthors, 
 and the process sarvers, and ' praisers 12 do at all. By 
 gorra, they must go rob an the road, since they won't 
 be let to rob any more in the fields; robbin 1 is all that 
 is left for them, for sure they couldn't turn to any honest 
 thrade afther the coorses they have been used to. Oh 
 what a power o 1 miscrayants will be out of bread for 
 the want of their owld thrade of false swearin 1 . Why, 
 the vagabones will be lost, barrin 1 they're sent to Bot 13 
 and indeed if a bridge could be built of false oaths, 
 by my sowkins, they could sware themselves there without 
 wettin' their feet." Here he overtook another peasant,
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 61 
 
 whom he accosted with the universal salutation of " God 
 save you!" "God save you kindly," was returned for 
 answer. " And is it yourself that's there, Mike Noonan ? " 
 said the one first introduced to the reader. 
 
 " Indeed it's myself and nobody else," said Noonan ; " an' 
 where is it you're goin' this fine mornin'?" 
 
 " An' is it yourself that's axin' that same, Mike ? why, 
 where is it I would be goin' but to the berrin?" 
 
 "I thought so in throth. It's yourself is always ripe 
 and ready for fun." 
 
 "And small blame to me." 
 
 "Why then, it was a mighty complate thing, whoever 
 it was that thought of makin' a berrin out of it." 
 
 " And don't you know ? " 
 
 "Not to my knowledge." 
 
 "Why then, who 'ud you think now laid it all out?" 
 
 "Faix, I dunna maybe 'twas Pether Conolly." 
 
 "No, it wasn't, though Pether's a 'cute chap guess 
 again." 
 
 "Well, was it Phil Mulligan?" 
 
 "No, it wasn't, though you made a good offer at it 
 sure enough, for if it wasn't Phil, it was his sisther " 
 
 "Tare alive, is it Biddy, it was?" 
 
 " 'Scure " to the one else. Oh she's the quarest craythur 
 in life. There's not a thrick out that she's not up to, 
 and more besides. By the powdhers o' war, she'd bate 
 a field full o' lawyers at shkamin' she's the Divil's 
 Biddy."
 
 62 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Why thin, but it was a grate iday intirely." 
 
 "You may say that in throth maybe it's we won't 
 have the fun but see who's before us there. Isn't it 
 that owld Coogan?" 
 
 "Sure enough, by dad." 
 
 " Why thin, isn't he the rale fine ould cock to come 
 so far to see the rights o' the thing?" 
 
 "Faix, he was always the right sort sure in Nointy- 
 eight, 15 as I hear, he was malthrated a power, and his 
 place rummaged, and himself almost kilt, bekase he wouldn't 
 inform an his neighbours." 
 
 "God's blessin' be an him and the likes av him that 
 wouldn't prove thraitor to a friend in disthress." 
 
 Here they came up with the old man to whom they 
 alluded he was the remains of a stately figure, and his 
 white hair hung at some length round the back of his 
 head and his temples, while a black and well-marked 
 eyebrow overshadowed his keen gray eye the contrast of 
 the dark eyebrow to the white hair rendered the intel- 
 ligent cast of his features more striking, and he was, 
 altogether, a figure that one would not be likely to pass 
 without notice. He was riding a small horse at an easy 
 pace, and he answered the rather respectful salutation of 
 the two foot passengers with kindness and freedom. They 
 addressed him as "Mr. Coogan," while to them he re- 
 turned the familiar term "boys." 
 
 "And av coorse it's goin' to the berrin you are, Mr. 
 Coogan, and long life to you."
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 63 
 
 "Aye, boys. It's hard for an owld horse to leave off 
 his thricks." 
 
 " Owld is it ? faix, and it's yourself that has more heart 
 in you this blissed mornin' than many a man that's not 
 half your age." 
 
 "By dad, I'm not a covvlt, boys, though I kick up my 
 heels sometimes." 
 
 "Well, you'll never do it younger, sir, but sure why 
 wouldn't you be there when all the counthry is goin', I 
 hear, and no wondher, sure. By the hole in my hat it's 
 enough, so it is, to make a sick man lave his bed to 
 see the fun that'll be in it, and sure its right and proper, 
 and shows the sperit that's in the counthry, when a man 
 like yourself, Mr. Coogan, joins the poor people in doin' it." 
 
 " I like to stand up for the right," answered the 
 old man. 
 
 "And always was a good warrant to do that same," 
 said Larry, in his most laudatory tone. 
 
 "Will you tell us who's that forninst us an the road 
 there?" asked the old man, as he pointed to a person 
 that seemed to make his way with some difficulty, for 
 he laboured under an infirmity of limb that caused a 
 grotesque jerking action in his walk, if walk it might be 
 called. 
 
 " Why, thin, don't you know him, Mr. Coogan ? by 
 dad, I thought there wasn't a parish in the county that 
 didn't know poor Hoppy Houligan." 
 
 It has been often observed before, the love of sobriquets
 
 64 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 that the Irish possess; but let it not be supposed that 
 their nicknames are given in a spirit of unkindness far 
 from it. A sense of the ridiculous is so closely inter- 
 woven in an Irishman's nature, that he will even jest 
 upon his own misfortunes; and while he indulges in a 
 joke (one of the few indulgences he can command), the 
 person that excites it may as frequently be the object of 
 his open-heartedness as his mirth. 
 
 "And is that Hoppy Houligan?" said old Coogan, 
 " I often heerd of him, to be sure, but I never seen him 
 before." 
 
 " Oh, then, you may see him before and behind now," 
 said Larry ; " and, indeed, if he had a match for that 
 odd skirt of his coat, he wouldn't be the worse iv it ; 
 and in throth the cordheroys themselves aren't a bit too 
 good, and there's the laste taste in life of his 
 
 "Whisht," said the old man, "he is looking back, and 
 maybe he hears you." 
 
 "Not he in throth. Sure he's partly bothered." 
 
 " How can he play the fiddle then, and he bothered ? " 
 said Coogan. 
 
 " Faix, an' that's the very raison he is bothered ; sure 
 he mouthers the ears aff of him intirely with the noise 
 of his own fiddle. Oh he's a powerful fiddler." 
 
 "So I often heerd, indeed," said the old man. 
 
 "He bangs all the fiddlers in the counthry." 
 
 "And is in the greatest requist," added Noonan. 
 
 "Yet he looks tatthered enough," said old Coogan.
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 65 
 
 "Sure you never seen a well-dhrest fiddler yet," said 
 Larry. 
 
 " Indeed, and now you remind me, I believe not," said 
 the old man. "I suppose they all get more kicks than 
 ha'pence, as the saying is." 
 
 " Divil a many kicks Houligan gets ; he's a great favor- 
 ite intirely." 
 
 "Why is he in such distress then?" asked Coogan. 
 
 " Faith, he's not in disthress at all ; he's welkim every- 
 where he goes, and has the best of atin' and dhrinkin' 
 the place affords, wherever he is, and picks up the cop- 
 pers fast at the fairs, and is no way necessitated in life; 
 though indeed it can't be denied, as he limps along there, 
 that he has a great many ups and downs in the world." 
 
 This person, of whom the preceding dialogue treats, 
 was a celebrated fiddler in " these parts," and his familiar 
 name of Hoppy Houligan was acquired, as the reader 
 may already have perceived, from his limping gait. This 
 limp was the consequence of a broken leg, which was 
 one of the consequences of an affray, which is the certain 
 consequence of a fair in Tipperary. Houligan was a 
 highly characteristic specimen of an Irish fiddler. As 
 Larry Lanigan said, "You never seen a well-dhrest 
 fiddler yet;" but Houligan was a particularly ill-fledged 
 bird of the musical tribe. His corduroys have already 
 been hinted at by Larry, as well as his coat, which 
 had lost half the skirt, thereby partially revealing the 
 aforesaid corduroys; or if one might be permitted to
 
 66 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 indulge in an image, the half skirt that remained 
 served to produce a partial eclipse of the disc of corduroy. 
 This was what we painters call picturesque. By the 
 way, the vulgar are always amazed that some tattered 
 remains of anything is more prized by the painter than 
 the freshest production in all its gloss of novelty. The 
 fiddler's stockings, too, in the neglected falling of their 
 folds round his legs, and the wisp of straw that fringed 
 the opening of his gaping brogues, were valuable additions 
 to the picture; and his hat But stop, let me not 
 presume ; his hat it would be a vain attempt to describe. 
 There are two things not to be described, which, to 
 know what they are, you must see. 
 
 Those two things are Taglioni's dancing and an Irish 
 fiddler's hat. The one is a wonder in action ; the other, 
 an enigma in form. 
 
 Houligan's fiddle was as great a curiosity as himself, 
 and, like its master, somewhat the worse for wear. It 
 had been broken some score of times, and yet, by dint 
 of glue, was continued in what an antiquary would call 
 "a fine state of preservation;" that is to say, there was 
 rather more of glue than wood in the article. The 
 stringing of the instrument was as great a piece of 
 patchwork as itself, and exhibited great ingenuity on the 
 part of its owner. Many was the knot above the finger- 
 board and below the bridge ; that is, when the fiddle was 
 in the best order; for in case of fractures on the field 
 of action, that is to say, at wake, patron, 16 or fair,
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 67 
 
 where the fiddler, unlike the girl he was playing for, had 
 not two strings to his bow; in such case, I say, the old 
 string should be knotted, wherever it might require to 
 be, and I have heard it insinuated that the music was 
 not a bit the worse of it. Indeed, the only economy 
 that poor Houligan ever practised was in the strings of 
 his fiddle, and those were an admirable exemplification 
 of the proverb of "making both ends meet. 11 Houligan's 
 waistcoat, too, was a curiosity, or rather, a cabinet of 
 curiosities; for he appropriated its pockets to various 
 purposes ; snuff, resin, tobacco, a clasp-knife with half a 
 blade, a piece of flint, a doodeen, and some bits of twine 
 and ends of fiddle-strings were all huddled together 
 promiscuously. Houligan himself called his waistcoat 
 Noah's ark ; for, as he said himself, there was a little of 
 everything in it, barring money, and that would never 
 stay in his company. His fiddle, partly enfolded in a 
 scanty bit of old baize, was tucked under his left arm, 
 and his right was employed in helping him to hobble 
 along by means of a black-thorn stick, when he was over- 
 taken by the three travellers already named, and saluted 
 by all, with the addition of a query as to where he was 
 going. 
 
 "An 1 where would I be goin 1 but to the berrin 1 ? 11 said 
 Houligan. 
 
 " Throth, it's the same answer I expected, 11 said Lanigan. 
 "It would be nothing at all without you. 11 
 
 " I've played at many a weddin 1 , 11 said Houligan, " but
 
 68 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 I'm thinkin' there will be more fun at this berrin' than 
 any ten weddin's." 
 
 " Indeed you may say that, Hoppy, agra" said Noonan. 
 
 "Why thin, Hoppy, jewel," said Lanigan, "what did 
 the skirt o' your coat do to you that you left it behind 
 you, and wouldn't let it see the fun?" 
 
 " 'Deed then I'll tell you, Larry, my boy. I was going' 
 last night by the by-road that runs up at the back o' 
 the owld house, nigh-hand the Widdy Casey's, and I 
 heerd that people was livin' in it since I thravelled the 
 road last, and so I opened the owld iron gate that was 
 as stiff in the hinge as a miser's fist, and the road ladin' 
 up to the house lookin' as lonely as a churchyard, and 
 the grass growin' out through it, and says I to myself, 
 I'm thinkin' it's few darkens your doors, says I; God be 
 with the time the owld squire was here, that staid at 
 home and didn't go abroad out of his own counthry, 
 ettin' the fine stately owld place go to rack and ruin ; and 
 faix, I was turnin' back, and I wish I did, whin I seen 
 a man comin' down the road, and so I waited till he 
 kem up to me, and I axed if any one was up at the 
 house ; Yis, says he ; and with that I heerd terrible bark- 
 in' intirely, and a great big lump of a dog turned the 
 corner of the house and stud growlin' at me ; I'm afeard, 
 there's dogs in it, says I to the man; Yis, says he, but 
 they're quite ; so, with that I wint my way, and he wint 
 his way ; but, my jew'l, the minit I got into the yard, 
 nine great vagabones of dogs fell on me, and I thought
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 69 
 
 they'd ate me alive ; and so they would I b'lieve, only 
 I had a cowld bone o' mate and some praties that 
 Mrs. Magrane, God bless her, made me put in my 
 pocket when I was goin' the road as I was lavin' her 
 house that mornin' afther the christenin' that was in it, 
 and sure enough lashings and lavings was there ; O that's 
 the woman has a heart as big as a king's, and her hus- 
 band too, in throth ; he's a dacent man and keeps mighty 
 fine dhrink in his house. Well, as I was sayin', the cowld 
 mate and praties was in my pocket, and by gor the 
 thievin' morodin' villians o' dogs made a dart at the 
 pocket and dragged it clan aff; and thin, my dear, with 
 fightin' among themselves, sthrivin' to come at the mate, 
 the skirt o' my coat was in smidhereens in one minit 
 divil a lie in it not a tatther iv it was left together; 
 and it's only a wondher I came aff with my life." 
 
 "Faith I think so," said Lanigan ; "and wasn't it mighty 
 providintial they didn't come at the fiddle; sure what 
 would the counthry do then?" 
 
 " Sure enough you may say that," said Houligan ; " and 
 then my bread would be gone as well as my mate. But 
 think o' the unnatharal vagabone that towld me the dogs 
 was quite; sure he came back while I was there, and I 
 was there, and I ups and I towld him what a shame it 
 was to tell me the dogs was quite. So they are quite, 
 says he; sure there's nine o' them, and only seven o' 
 them bites. Thank you, says I." 
 
 There was something irresistibly comic in the quiet
 
 70 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 manner that Houligan said, "Thank you, says I;"" and 
 the account of his canine adventure altogether excited 
 much mirth amongst his auditors. As they pursued their 
 journey many a joke was passed and repartee returned, 
 and the laugh rang loudly and often from the merry 
 little group as they trudged along. In the course of the 
 next mile's march their numbers were increased by some 
 half dozen, that, one by one, suddenly appeared, by 
 leaping over the hedge on the road, or crossing a stile 
 from some neighbouring path. All these new-comers 
 pursued the same route, and each gave the same answer 
 when asked where he was going. It was universally this 
 " Why, then, where would I be goin' but to the berrin'." 
 At a neighbouring confluence of roads straggling parties 
 of from four to five were seen in advance, and approach- 
 ing in the rear, and the highway soon began to wear the 
 appearance it is wont to do on the occasion of a patron, a 
 fair, or a market day. Larry Lanigan was in evident enjoy- 
 ment at this increase of numbers ; and as the crowd thick- 
 ened, his exultation increased, and he often repeated his 
 ejaculation, already noticed in Larry's opening soliloquy, 
 " Why, then, an 1 isn't it a grate day intirely for Ireland!!!' 1 
 And now, horsemen were more frequently appearing, 
 and their numbers soon amounted to almost a cavalcade ; 
 and sometimes a car, that is to say, the car common 
 to the country for agricultural purposes, might be seen, 
 bearing a cargo of women; videlicet, "the good woman" 
 herself, and her rosy-cheeked daughters, and maybe a cousin
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 71 
 
 or two, with an aide de camp aunt to assist in looking 
 after the young ladies. The roughness of the motion of 
 this primitive vehicle was rendered as accommodating as 
 possible to the gentler sex, by a plentiful shake down of 
 clean straw on the car, over which a feather bed was 
 laid, and the best quilt in the house over that, to make 
 all smart, possibly a piece of hexagon patchwork of " the 
 misthriss" herself, in which the tawdriest calico patterns 
 served to display the taste of the rural sempstress, and 
 stimulated the rising generation to feats of needlework. 
 The car was always provided with a driver, who took 
 such care upon himself " for a rayson he had : " he was 
 almost universally what is called in Ireland " a clane boy," 
 that is to say, a well made, good-looking young fellow, 
 whose eyes were not put into his head for nothing; and 
 these same eyes might be seen wandering backwards oc- 
 casionally from his immediate charge, " the dumb baste ," 
 to "take a squint" at some, or maybe one, of his pas- 
 sengers. This explains "the rayson he had" for becoming 
 driver. Sometimes he sat on the crupper of the horse, 
 resting his feet on the shafts of the car, and bending 
 down his head to say something "tindher" to the colleen 
 that sat next him, totally negligent of his duty as guide. 
 Sometimes when the girl he wanted to be sweet on was 
 seated at the back of the car, this relieved the horse 
 from the additional burthen of his driver, and the " clane 
 boy " would leave the horse's head and fall in the rear to 
 "deludher the craythur,"" depending on an occasional
 
 72 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "hup" or "wo"" for the guidance of the beast, when a 
 too near proximity to the dyke by the road side warned 
 him of the necessity of his interference. Sometimes he 
 was called to his duty by the open remonstrance of 
 either the mother or the aunt, or maybe a mischievous 
 cousin, as thus : " Why then, Dinny, what are you about 
 at all at all? God betune me and harm, if you warn't 
 within an inch o' puttin' uz all in the gripe o' the ditch ; 
 arrah, lave off your gosiherir? there, and mind the horse, 
 will you ; a purty thing it 'ud be if my bones was bruk ; 
 what are you doin' there at all at the back o' the car, 
 when it's at the baste's head you ought to be?" 
 
 "Arrah sure, the baste knows the way herself." 
 
 "Faix, I b'lieve so, for it's little behowlden to you 
 she is for showin' her. Augh!! murther!!! there we are 
 in the gripe almost." 
 
 "Lave aff your screeching, can't you, and be quite. 
 Sure the poor craythur only just wint over to get a 
 mouthful o' the grass by the side o 1 the ditch." 
 
 "What business has she to be atin' now?" 
 
 "Bekase she's hungry, I suppose; and why isn't she 
 fed betther?" 
 
 " Bekase rogues stales her oats, Dinny. I seen you in 
 the stable by the same token yisterday." 
 
 " Sure enough, ma'am, for I wint there to look for my 
 cowlt that was missin'." 
 
 "I thought it was the filly you wor afther, Dinny," 
 said a cousin, with a wink; and Dinny grinned, and his
 
 k THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 73 
 
 sweetheart blushed, while the rest of the girls tittered, 
 the mother pretending not to hear the joke, and bidding 
 Dinny go mind his business by attending to the horse. 
 
 But lest I should tire my reader by keeping him 
 so long on the road, I will let him find the rest of 
 his way as well as he can to a certain romantic little val- 
 ley, where a comfortable farm-house was situated beside 
 a small mountain stream, that tumbled along noisily over 
 its rocky bed, and in which some ducks, noisier than the 
 stream, were enjoying their morning bath. The geese 
 were indulging in dignified rest and silence upon the 
 bank ; a cock was crowing and strutting with his usual 
 swagger amongst his hens; a pig was endeavouring to 
 save his ears, not from this rural tumult, but from the 
 teeth of a half-terrier dog, who was chasing him away 
 from an iron pot full of potatoes, which the pig had dared 
 to attempt some impertinent liberties with; and a girl 
 was bearing into the house a pail of milk which she had 
 just taken from the cow that stood placidly looking on, 
 an admirable contrast to the general bustle of the scene. 
 
 Everything about the cottage gave evidence of com- 
 fort on the part of its owner, and, to judge from the 
 numbers without and within the house, you would say 
 he did not want for friends; for all, as they arrived at 
 its door, greeted Phelim O'Hara kindly, and Phelim wel- 
 comed each new-comer with a heartiness that did honour 
 to his gray hairs. Frequently passing to and fro, busily 
 engaged in arranging an ample breakfast in the barn,
 
 74 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 appeared his daughter, a pretty round-faced girl with 
 black hair and the long and silky-lashed dark grey eyes 
 of her country, where merriment loves to dwell, and a 
 rosy mouth whose smiles served at once to display her 
 good temper and her fine teeth; her colour gets fresher 
 for a moment, and a look of affectionate recognition 
 brightens her eye, as a lithe young fellow springs briskly 
 over the stepping-stones that lead across the stream, and 
 trips lightly up to the girl, who offers her hand in wel- 
 come. Who is the happy dog that is so well received 
 by Honor O'Hary, the prettiest girl in that parish or 
 the next, and the daughter of a "snug man" into the 
 bargain? It is the reader's old acquaintance, I^arry 
 Lanigan; and maybe Larry did not give a squeeze 
 extraordinary to the hand that was presented to him. 
 The father received him well also ; indeed for that matter, 
 the difficulty would have been to find a house in the 
 whole district that Larry would not have been welcome in. 
 
 "So here you are at last, Larry, 11 said old O'Hara; 
 "I was wondering you were not here long ago. 11 
 
 "An 1 so I would, I thank you kindly, 11 said Larry, 
 " only I overtook owld Hoppy here, on the road, and sure 
 I thought I might as well take my time, and wait for 
 poor Hoppy, and bring my welkim along with me ; " and 
 here he shoved the fiddler into the house before him. 
 
 "The girls will be glad to see the pair o 1 yiz, 11 said 
 the old man, following. 
 
 The interior of the house was crowded with guests, and
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 75 
 
 the usual laughing and courting so often described as 
 common to such assemblages, were going forward amongst 
 the young people. At the farther end of the largest 
 room in the cottage, a knot of the older men of the 
 party was engaged in the discussion of some subject that 
 seemed to carry deep interest along with it, and at the 
 opposite extremity of the same room, a coffin of very 
 rude construction lay on a small table; and around this 
 coffin stood all the junior part of the company, male and 
 female, and the wildness of their mirth, and the fertility 
 of their jests, over this tenement of mortality and its 
 contents, might have well startled a stranger for a moment, 
 until he saw the nature of the deposit the coffin contained. 
 
 Enshrouded in a sheaf of wheat lay a pig, between 
 whose open jaws a large potato was placed, and the coffin 
 was otherwise grotesquely decorated. 
 
 The reader will wonder, no doubt, at such an ex- 
 hibition, for certainly never was coffin so applied before ; 
 and it is therefore necessary to explain the meaning of all 
 this, and I believe Ireland is the only country in the world 
 where the facts I am about to relate could have occurred. 
 
 It may be remembered that some time previously to 
 the date at which my story commences, his majesty^ 
 ministers declared that there should be a "total extinc- 
 tion of tithes." 
 
 This declaration was received in Ireland by the great 
 mass of the people with the utmost delight, as they 
 fancied they should never have tithes to pay again. The
 
 76 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 peasantry in the neighbourhood of Templemore formed 
 the very original idea of BURYING THE TITHE. It is only 
 amongst an imaginative people that such a notion could 
 have originated ; and indeed there is something highly 
 poetical in the conception. The tithe that which the 
 poor felt the keenest ; that which they considered a tax 
 on their industry; that which they looked upon as an 
 hereditary oppression ; that hateful thing, they were told, 
 was to be extinguished, and, in joyous anticipation of 
 the blessing, they determined to enact an emblematic 
 interment of this terrible enemy, but in the execution of 
 it they invested it with the broadest marking of the 
 grotesque. Such is the strange compound of an Irish 
 peasant, whose anger is often vented in a jest, and whose 
 mirth is sometimes terrible. 
 
 I have said a group of seniors was collected at one 
 end of the room, and, as it is meet to give precedence 
 to age, I will endeavour to give some idea of what was 
 going forward amongst them. 
 
 There was one old man of the party whose furrowed 
 forehead, compressed eyebrows, piqued nose, and mouth 
 depressed at the corners, at once indicated to a phy- 
 siognomist a querulous temper. He was one of your 
 doubters upon all occasions, one of the unfailing elements 
 of an argument; as he said himself, he was "duber- 
 some" about everything, and he had hence earned the 
 name of Daddy Dubersome amongst his neighbours. Well, 
 Daddy began to doubt the probability that any such
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 77 
 
 boon as the extinction of tithes was to take place, and 
 said, he was "sartin sure 'twas too good news to be thrue. 11 
 
 "Tare anounty, 11 said another, who was the very an- 
 tithesis of Daddy in his credulous nature, "sure, didn't 
 I see it myself in prent. 11 
 
 " I was towld often that things was in prent, 11 returned 
 Daddy, drily, "that come out lies afther, to my own 
 knowledge." 
 
 "But sure, 11 added a third, "sure, didn't the Prime 
 Ear himself lay it all out before the Parleymint ? " 
 
 " What Prime Ear are you talking about, man dear ? " 
 said Daddy, rather testily. 
 
 "Why, the Prime Ear of his Majesty, and no less. 
 Is that satisfaction for you, eh? 11 
 
 "Well, and who is the Prime Ear? 11 
 
 "Why, the Prime Ear of his Majesty, I towld you 
 before. You see, he is the one that hears of everything 
 that is to be done for the whole impire in partic'lar; 
 and bekase he hears of everything, that's the rayson he 
 is called the Prime Ear and a good rayson it is. 11 
 
 "Well, but what has that to do with the tithes? I 
 ask you again, 11 said Daddy with his usual pertinacity. 
 
 Here he was about to be answered by the former 
 speaker, whose definition of the Premier had won him 
 golden opinions amongst the by-standers, when he was 
 prevented by a fourth orator, who rushed into the debate 
 with this very elegant opening 
 
 " Arrah! tare-an-ouns, yiz are settin 1 me mad, so yiz
 
 78 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 are. Why, I wondher any one 'id be sitch a fool as to 
 go arguefy with that crooked owld disciple there." 
 
 "Meanin' me?" said Daddy. 
 
 "I'd be sorry to contheradict you, sir," said the other, 
 with an admirable mockery of politeness. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Daddy, with a dignity more 
 comical than the other's buffoonery. 
 
 " You're kindly welkim, Daddy," returned the aggressor. 
 "Sure, you never b'lieved anything yit; and I wonder 
 any one would throw away their sthrivin' to rightify you." 
 
 "Come, boys," said O'Hara, interrupting the discourse, 
 with a view to prevent further bickering, " there's no use 
 talking about the thing now, for whatever way it is, 
 sure we are met to bury the Tithe, and it's proud I am 
 to see you all here to make merry upon the stringth of 
 it, and I think I heerd Honor say this minit that every- 
 thing is ready in the barn without, so you'll have no 
 difference of opinion about tackling to the breakfast, or 
 I'm mistaken. Come, my hearties, the mate and the 
 praties is crying, 'Who'll ate me?' away wid you, 
 that's your sort;" and he enforced his summons to the 
 feast by pushing his guests before him towards the scene 
 of action. 
 
 This was an ample barn, where tables of all sorts and 
 sizes were spread, loaded with viands of the most sub- 
 stantial character: wooden forms, three-legged stools, 
 broken-backed chairs, &c., &c. were in requisition for the 
 accommodation of the female portion of the company,
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 79 
 
 and the men attended first to their wants with a polite- 
 ness which, though deficient in the external graces of 
 polished life, did credit to their natures. The eating 
 part of the business was accompanied with all the clatter 
 that might be expected to attend such an affair; and 
 when the eatables had been tolerably well demolished, 
 O'Hara stood up in the midst of his guests and said he 
 should propose to them a toast, which he knew all the 
 boys would fill their glasses for, and that was, to drink 
 the health of the King, and long life to him, for seeing 
 into the rights of the thing, and doing "such a power" 
 for them, and "more power to his elbow." This toast 
 was prefaced by a speech to his friends and neighbours 
 upon the hardships of tithe in particular, spiced with the 
 " laste taste"" in life of politics in general ; wherein the Re- 
 peal of the Union and Daniel O'Connell cut no incon- 
 siderable figure ; yet in the midst of the rambling address, 
 certain glimpses of good sense and shrewd observation 
 might be caught; and the many and the powerful ob- 
 jections he advanced against the impost that was to be 
 "extinct" so soon, were put forward with a force and 
 distinctness that were worthy of a better speaker, and 
 might have been found difficult to reply to by a more 
 accustomed hand. He protested that he thought he had 
 lived long enough when he had witnessed in his own 
 life-time two such national benefits as the Catholic 
 Emancipation Bill and the Abolition of Tithes. CTHara 
 further declared, he was the happiest man alive that day
 
 80 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 only in the regard " of one thing, and that was, that 
 his reverence, Father Hely (the priest) was not there 
 amongst them; 11 and, certainly, the absence of the pastor 
 on an occasion of festivity in the house of a snug farmer, 
 is of rare occurrence in Ireland. "But you see, 11 said 
 O^ara, "whin his rivirince heerd what it was we wor 
 goin 1 to do, he thought it would be purtier on his part 
 for to have nothin 1 whatsomivir to do with it, in hand, 
 act, or part; and, indeed, boys, that shews a great deal 
 of good breedin 1 in Father Hely. 11 
 
 This was quite agreed to by the company; and, after 
 many cheers for O'Hara's speech, and some other toasts 
 pertinent to the occasion, the health of O'Hara, as founder 
 of the feast, with the usual addenda of long life, pro- 
 sperity, &c. to him and his, was drunk, and then pre- 
 parations were entered into for proceeding with the 
 ceremony of the funeral. 
 
 "I believe we have nothing to wait for now, 11 said 
 O^ara, " since you won't have any more to drink, boys ; so 
 let us set about it at once, and make a clane day 1 ^ work of it. 11 
 
 "Oh, we're not quite ready yit, 11 said Larry Lanigan, 
 who seemed to be a sort of master of the ceremonies on 
 the occasion. 
 
 "What's the delay?" asked O'Hara. 
 
 "Why, the chief murners is not arrived yit." 
 
 "What murners are you talkin 1 about, man? 11 said the 
 other. 
 
 " Why, you know, at a grand berrin 1 they have always
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 81 
 
 chief murners, and there's a pair that I ordhered to be 
 brought here for that same." 
 
 " Myself doesn't know anything about murners," said 
 O'Hara, "for I never seen anything finer than the 
 keeners 17 at a berrin ; but Larry's up to the ways of the 
 quolity, as well as of his own sort." 
 
 "But you wouldn't have keeners for the Tithe, would 
 you? Sure, the keeners is to say all the good they can 
 of the departed, and more if they can invint it ; but sure, 
 the devil a good thing at all they could say of the Tithe, 
 barrin' it was lies they wor tellin', and so it would only 
 be throwin' away throuble." 
 
 "Thrue for you, Lanigan." 
 
 "Besides, it is like a grand berrin belongin' to the 
 quol'ty to have chief murners, and you know the Tithe 
 was aiqual to a lord or a king a'most for power." 
 
 In a short time the " murners," as Larry called them, 
 arrived in custody of half a dozen of Larry's chosen com- 
 panions, to whom he had entrusted the execution of the 
 mission. These chief mourners were two tithe-proctors, 
 who had been taken forcibly from their homes by the 
 Lanigan party, and threatened with death unless they 
 attended the summons of Larry to be present at "The 
 Berrin." 
 
 Their presence was hailed with a great shout, and the 
 poor devils looked excessively frightened; but they were 
 assured by O'Hara they had nothing to fear. 
 
 " I depend an you, Mr. O'Hara, for seeing us safe out 
 
 ii.
 
 82 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 of their hands," said one of them, for the other was 
 dumb from terror. 
 
 " So you may," was the answer O'Hara returned. " Hurt 
 nor harm shall not be put an you ; I give you my word 
 o' that." 
 
 " Divil a harm," said Larry. " We'll only put you into 
 a shoot o' clothes that is ready for you, and you may 
 look as melancholy as you plaze, for it is murners you 
 are to be. Well, Honor," said he, addressing O'Hara's 
 daughter, "have you got the mithres and vestments 
 ready, as I towld you?" 
 
 " Yes," said Honor; " here comes Biddy Mulligan with them 
 from the house, for Biddy herself helped me to make them." 
 
 " And who had a betther right ? " said Larry, " when 
 it was herself that laid it all out complate, the whole 
 thing from the beginning and sure enough but it was a 
 bright thought of her. Faix, hell be the looky man 
 that gets Biddy, yet." 
 
 "You had betther have her yourself, I think," said 
 Honor, with an arch look at Larry, full of meaning. 
 
 "An' it's that same I've been thinking of for some 
 time," said Larry, laughing, and returning Honor's look 
 with one that repaid it with interest. "But where is 
 she at all? Oh, here she comes with the duds, and 
 Mike Noonan afther her ; throth, he's following her about 
 all this mornin' like a sucking calf. I'm afeard Mike is 
 going to sarcumvint me wid Biddy; but he'd betther 
 mind what he's at."
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 83 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by the advance 
 of Biddy Mulligan, "and Mike Noonan afther her, 11 
 bearing some grotesque imitation of clerical vestments 
 made of coarse sacking, and two enormous head-dresses 
 made of straw, in the fashion of mitres; these were de- 
 corated with black rags hung fantastically about them, 
 while the vestments were smeared over with black stripes 
 in no very regular order. 
 
 " Come here," said Larry to the tithe-proctors ; " come 
 here, antil we put you into your regimentals." 
 
 " What are you goin' to do with us, Mr. Lanigan ? " 
 said the poor frightened wretch, while his knees knocked 
 with terror. 
 
 "We are just goin' to make a pair o' bishops of 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. O'Hara," said the proctor, "sure you won't 
 let them tie us up in them sacks." 
 
 "Do you hear what he calls the iligant vestments we 
 made a' purpose for him? They are sackcloth, to be 
 sure, and why not seeing as how that you are to be 
 the chief murners? and sackcloth and ashes is what you 
 must be dhressed in, accordin 1 to ray son. Here, my buck," 
 said the rollicking Larry, " 111 be your vally de sham 
 myself," and he proceeded to put the dress on the terri- 
 fied tithe-proctor. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Lanigan dear ! " said he, " don't murther me, 
 if you plaze." 
 
 " Murther you ! arrah, who's going to murther you ?
 
 Do you think I'd dirty my hands wid killin' a snakin' 
 tithe-procthor." 
 
 " Indeed, that's thrue, Mr. Lanigan ; it would not be 
 worth your while." 
 
 "Here now," said Larry, "howld your head till I put 
 the mithre an you, and make you a bishop complate. 
 But wait a bit ; throth, I was nigh forgettin' the ashes, 
 and that would have been a great loss to both o' you, 
 bekase you wouldn't be right mumers at all without them, 
 and the people would think you wor only purtendinV 
 This last bit of Larry's waggery produced great merri- 
 ment amongst the bystanders, for the unfortunate tithe- 
 proctors were looking at that moment most doleful ex- 
 amples of wretchedness. A large shovelful of turf ashes 
 was now shaken over their heads, and then they were 
 decorated with their mitres. " Tut, man," said Larry to 
 one of them, "don't thrimble like a dog in a wet sack. 
 Oh, thin, look at him how pale he's turned, the dirty coward 
 that he is. I tell you, we're not goin' to do you any hurt, 
 so you needn't be lookin' in sitch mortial dhread. By gor, 
 you're as white as a pen'orth o' curds in a sweep's fist." 
 
 With many such jokes at the expense of the tithe- 
 proctors, they were attired in their caricature robes and 
 mitres, and presented with a pair of pitchforks, by way 
 of crosiers, and were recommended at the same time 
 to make hay while the sun shone, ' bekase the fine 
 weather would be lavin' them soon;" with many other 
 bitter sarcasms, conveyed in the language of ridicule.
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 85 
 
 The procession was now soon arranged, and, as they 
 had their chief mourners, it was thought a good point 
 of contrast to have their chief rejoicers as well. To this 
 end, in a large cart they put a sow and her litter of 
 pigs, decorated with ribands, a sheaf of wheat standing 
 proudly erect, a bowl of large potatoes, which, at Honor 
 O'Hara's suggestion, were boiled, that they might be 
 laughing on the occasion, and over these was hung a 
 rude banner, on which was written. "We may stay at 
 home now. 11 
 
 In this cart, Hoppy Houligan, the fiddler, with a piper 
 as a coadjutor, rasped and squeaked their best to the 
 tune of " Go to the devil and shake yourself, 11 which 
 was meant to convey a delicate hint to the tithes for 
 the future. 
 
 The whole assemblage of people, and it was immense, 
 then proceeded to the spot where it was decided the 
 tithe was to be interred, as the most fitting place to 
 receive such a deposit, and this place was called by what 
 they considered the very appropriate name of "The 
 Devil's Bit 11 . 
 
 In a range of hills, in the neighbourhood where this 
 singular occurrence took place, there is a sudden gap 
 occurs in the outline of the ridge, which is stated to have 
 been formed by his sable majesty taking a bite out of 
 the mountain; whether it was spite or hunger that had 
 made him do so, is not ascertained, but he evidently did 
 not consider it a very savoury morsel; for it is said, he
 
 86 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 spat it out again, and the rejected morcean forms the 
 rock of Cashel. Such is the wild legend of this wild 
 spot, and here was the interment of the tithe to be 
 achieved, as an appropriate addition to the " Devil's Bit." 
 The procession now moved onward, and, as it proceeded, 
 its numbers were considerably augmented. Its approach 
 was looked for by a scout on every successive hill it came 
 within sight of, and a wild halloo, or the winding of a 
 cow's horn immediately succeeded, which called forth scores 
 of fresh attendants upon " the berrin". Thus, their num- 
 bers were increased every quarter of a mile they went, 
 until, on their arriving at the foot of the hill which they 
 were to ascend, to reach their final destination, the mul- 
 titude assembled presented a most imposing appearance. 
 In the course of their march, the great point of attraction 
 for the young men and women was the cart that bore 
 the piper and fiddler, and the road was rather danced 
 than walked over in this quarter. The other distinguished 
 portion of the train was where the two tithe-proctors 
 played their parts of chief mourners. They were the 
 delight of all the little ragged urchins in the country; 
 the half-naked young vagabonds hung on their flanks, 
 plucked at their vestments, made wry faces at them, called 
 them by many ridiculous names, and an occasional lump 
 of clay was slily flung at their mitres, which were too 
 tempting a "cock shot" to be resisted. The multitude 
 now wound up the hill, and the mingling of laughter, of 
 singing, and shouting, produced a wild compound of sound,
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 87 
 
 that rang far and wide. As they doubled an angle in 
 the road, which opened the Devil's Bit full upon their 
 view, they saw another crowd assembled there, which con- 
 sisted of persons from the other side of the hills, who could 
 not be present at the breakfast, nor join the procession, 
 but who attended upon the spot where the interment was 
 to take place. As soon as the approach of the funeral 
 train was perceived from the top of the hill, the mass of 
 people there sent forth a shout of welcome, which was 
 returned by those from below. 
 
 Short space now served to bring both parties together, 
 and the digging of a grave did not take long with such 
 a plenty of able hands for the purpose. "Come, boys,"" 
 said Larry Lanigan to two or three of his companions, 
 "while they are digging the grave here, we'll go cut 
 some sods to put over it when the thievin' tithe is buried ; 
 not for any respect I have for it in partic'lar, but that 
 we may have the place smooth and clane to dance over 
 aftherwards; and may I never shuffle the brogue again, 
 if myself and Honor O'Hara won't be the first pair that 
 '11 set you a patthern." 
 
 All was soon ready for the interment; the tithe coffin 
 was lowered into the pit, and the shouting that rent the 
 air was terrific. 
 
 As they were about to fill up the grave with earth 
 their wild hurra, that had rung out so loudly was an- 
 swered by a fierce shout at some distance, and all eyes 
 were turned towards the quarter whence it arose, to see
 
 88 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 from whom it proceeded, for it was, evidently, a solitary 
 voice that had thus arrested their attention. 
 
 Toiling up the hill, supporting himself with a staff, 
 and bearing a heavy load in a wallet slung over his 
 shoulders, appeared an elderly man whose dress proclaimed 
 him at once to be a person who depended on eleemosyn- 
 ary contributions for his subsistence : and many, when they 
 caught the first glimpse of him, proclaimed, at once, that 
 it was "Tatther the Road" was coming. 
 
 "Tatther the Road" was the very descriptive name 
 that had been applied to this poor creature, for he was 
 always travelling about the highways ; he never rested even 
 at nights in any of the houses of the peasants, who would 
 have afforded him shelter, but seemed to be possessed by 
 a restless spirit, that urged him to constant motion. Of 
 course the poor creature sometimes slept, but it must 
 have been under such shelter as a hedge, or cave, or 
 gravel-pit might afford, for in the habitation of man he 
 was never seen to sleep ; and, indeed, I never knew any 
 one who had seen this strange being in the act of sleep. 
 This fact attached a sort of mysterious character to the 
 wanderer, and many would tell you that "he wasn't 
 right," and firmly believed that he never slept at all. His 
 mind was unsettled, and though he never became offen- 
 sive in any degree from his mental aberration, yet the 
 nature of his distemper often induced him to do very 
 extraordinary things, and whenever the gift of speech 
 was upon him, (for he was habitually taciturn,) he would
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 89 
 
 make an outpouring of some rhapsody, in which occasional 
 bursts of very powerful language and striking imagery 
 would occur. Indeed the peasants said that "sometimes 
 'twould make your hair stand an end to hear Tatther the 
 Road make a noration." 
 
 This poor man's history, as far as I could learn, was 
 a very melancholy one. In the rebellion of '98 his cabin 
 had been burned over his head by the yeomanry, after 
 every violation that could disgrace his hearth had been 
 committed. He and his son, then little more than a 
 boy, had attempted to defend their hut, and they were 
 both left for dead. His wife and his daughter, a girl 
 of sixteen, were also murdered. The wretched father 
 unfortunately recovered, but his reason was gone for 
 ever. Even in the midst of his poverty and madness, 
 there was a sort of respect attached to this singular man. 
 Though depending on charity for his meat and drink, 
 he could not well be called a beggar, for he never asked 
 for anything even on the road, when some passenger, 
 ignorant of his wild history, saw the poor wanderer, a 
 piece of money was often bestowed to the silent appeal 
 of his rags, his haggard features, and his grizzly hair 
 and beard. 
 
 Thus eternally up and down the country was he moving 
 about, and hence his name of "Tatther the Road." 
 
 It was not long until the old man gained the summit 
 of the hill, but while he was approaching, many were 
 the " wonders " what in the name of fortune could have
 
 90 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 brought Tatther the Road there. "And by dad," said 
 one, "he's pullin' fut 18 at a great rate, and it's won- 
 dherful how an owld cock like him can clamber up the 
 hill so fast." 
 
 " Aye, 1 ' said another, " and with the waight he's car- 
 rying too." 
 
 "Sure enough," said a third. "Faix, he's got a fine 
 lob in his wallet to-day." 
 
 "Whisht!" said O'Hara. "Here he comes, and his 
 ears are as sharp as needles." 
 
 "And his eyes too," said a woman. "Lord be good 
 to me, did you ever see poor Tatther's eyes look so ter- 
 rible bright afore?" 
 
 And indeed this remark was not uncalled for, for the 
 eyes of the old man almost gleamed from under the 
 shaggy brows that were darkly bent over them, as, with 
 long strides, he approached the crowd which opened be- 
 fore him, and he stalked up to the side of the grave and 
 threw down the ponderous wallet, which fell to the ground 
 with a heavy crash. 
 
 "You were going to close the grave too soon," were 
 the first words he uttered. 
 
 " Sure, when the tithe is wanst buried, what more have 
 we to do?" said one of the by-standers. 
 
 "Aye, you have put the tithe in the grave but will 
 it stay there?" 
 
 "Why indeed," said Larry Lanigan, "I think he'd be 
 a bowld resurrection man that would come to rise it."
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 91 
 
 "I have brought you something here to lie heavy on 
 it, and 'twill never rise more," said the maniac, striking 
 forth his arm fiercely, and clenching his hand firmly. 
 
 "And what have you brought us, agra?" said O'Hara 
 kindly to him. 
 
 "Look here,' 1 said the other, unfolding his wallet and 
 displaying five or six large stones. 
 
 Some were tempted to laugh, but a mysterious dread 
 of the wild being before them, prevented any outbreak 
 of mirth. 
 
 "God help the craythur!" said a woman, so loud as 
 to be heard. " He has brought a bag full o' stones to 
 throw a top o' the tithes to keep them down O w'usha! 
 wisha! poor craythur!" 
 
 "Aye stones!" said the maniac; "but do you know 
 what stones these are ? Look, woman " and his manner 
 became intensely impressive from the excitement even of 
 madness, under which he was acting. "Look, I say 
 there's not a stone there that's not a curse aye, a curse 
 so heavy that nothing can ever rise that falls under it." 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to say aginst it, dear," said the 
 woman. 
 
 The maniac did not seem to notice her submissive 
 answer, but pursuing his train of madness, continued his 
 address in his native tongue, whose figurative and poetical 
 construction was heightened in its effect, by a manner 
 and action almost theatrically descriptive. 
 
 "You all remember the Widow Dempsy. The first
 
 92 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 choice of her bosom was long gone, but the son she 
 loved was left to her, and her heart was not quite lonely. 
 And at the widow's hearth there was still a welcome for 
 the stranger and the son of her heart made his choice, 
 like the father before him, and the joy of the widow's 
 house was increased, for the son of her heart was happy. 
 And in due time the widow welcomed the fair-haired 
 child of her son to the world, and a dream of her youth 
 came over her, as she saw the ]oy of her son and her 
 daughter, when they kissed the fair-haired child. But 
 the hand of God was heavy in the land, and the fever 
 fell hard upon the poor and the widow was again bereft, 
 for the son of her heart was taken, and the wife of 
 his bosom also and the fair-haired child was left an 
 orphan. And the widow would have laid down her bones 
 and died, but for the fair-haired child that had none to 
 look to but her. And the widow blessed God's name 
 and bent her head to the blow and the orphan that 
 was left to her was the pulse of her heart, and often 
 she looked on his pale face with a fearful eye, for health 
 was not on the cheek of the boy but she cherished 
 him tenderly. 
 
 "But the ways of the world grew crooked to the lone 
 woman, when the son, that was the staff of her age, was 
 gone, and one trouble followed another, but still the 
 widow was not quite destitute. And what was it brought 
 the heavy stroke of distress and disgrace to the widow's 
 door ? The tithe ! The widow's cow was driven and sold
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE TITHE 93 
 
 to pay a few shillings; the drop of milk was no longer 
 in the widow's house, and the tender child that needed 
 the nourishment, wasted away before the widow's eyes, 
 like snow from the ditch, and died : and fast the widow 
 followed the son of her heart and his fair-haired boy. 
 
 "And now, the home of an honest race is a heap of 
 rubbish; and the bleak wind whistles over the hearth 
 where the warm welcome was ever found; and the cold 
 frog crouches under the ruins. 
 
 "These stones are from that desolate place, and the 
 curse of God that follows oppression is on them. And 
 let them be cast into the grave, and they will lie with 
 the weight of a mountain on the monster that is buried 
 for ever." 
 
 So saying, he lifted stone after stone, and flung them 
 fiercely into the pit; then, after a moment's pause upon 
 its verge, he suddenly strode away with the same noise- 
 less step that he had approached, and left the scene in 
 silence.
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! 
 
 IT was the night of the 2nd of July, in the year 1690, 
 that a small remnant of a discomfited army was forming 
 its position, in no very good order, on the slope of a 
 wild hill on the borders of the county of Dublin. In 
 front of a small square tower, a sentinel was pacing up 
 and down, darkly brooding over the disastrous fight of 
 the preceding day, and his measured tread was sometimes 
 broken by the fierce stamp of his foot upon the earth, 
 as some bitter thought and muttered curse arose, when 
 the feelings of the man overcame the habit of the soldier. 
 The hum of the arrival of a small squadron of horse 
 came from the vale below, borne up the hill on the faint 
 breeze that sometimes freshens a summer's night, but the 
 laugh, or the song, that so often enliven a military post, 
 mingled not with the sound. The very trumpet seemed 
 to have lost the inspiring tingle of its tone, and its blast 
 sounded heavily on the ear of the sentinel. 
 
 " There come more of our retreating comrades," thought 
 he, as he stalked before the low portal it was his duty
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 95 
 
 to guard. "Retreating curse the word! shall we never 
 do anything but fall back and back before this d d 
 Dutchman and his followers? And yesterday too, with 
 so fine an opportunity of cutting the rascals to pieces, 
 and all thrown away, and so much hard fighting to go 
 for nothing. Oh, if Sarsfield 19 had led us! we'd have 
 another tale to tell." And here he struck the heavy heel 
 of his war boot into the ground, and hurried up and 
 down. But he was roused from his angry musing by the 
 sound of a horse's tramp that indicated a rapid approach 
 to the tower, and he soon perceived, through the gloom, 
 a horseman approaching at a gallop. The sentinel chal- 
 lenged the cavalier, who returned the countersign, and 
 was then permitted to ride up to the door of the tower. 
 He was mounted on a superb charger, whose silky coat 
 of milk-white was much travel-stained, and the heaviness 
 of whose breathing told of recent hard riding. The horse- 
 man alighted : his dress was of a mixed character, im- 
 plying that war was not his profession, though the troubled 
 nature of the times had engaged him in it. His head 
 had no defensive covering, he wore the slouched hat of 
 a civilian common to the time, but his body was defended 
 by the cuirass of a trooper, and a heavy sword, suspended 
 by a broad cross belt, was at his side these alone bespoke 
 the soldier, for the large and massively mounted pistols 
 that protruded from the holsters at his saddle-bow, were 
 no more than any gentleman, at the time, might have 
 been provided with.
 
 96 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Will you hold the rein of my horse," said he to the 
 sentry, "while I remain in the castle?" 
 
 "I am a sentinel, sir," answered the soldier, "and 
 cannot." 
 
 "I will not remain more than a few minutes." 
 
 "I dare not, sir, while I"m on duty but I suppose 
 you will find some one in the castle that will take charge 
 of your horse." 
 
 The stranger now knocked at the door of the tower, 
 and after some questions and answers in token of amity 
 had passed between him and those inside, it was 
 opened. 
 
 "Let some one take charge of my horse," said he, "I 
 do not want him to be stabled, as I shall not remain 
 here long, but I have ridden him hard, and he is warm, 
 so let him be walked up and down until I am ready to 
 get into the saddle again." He then entered the tower, 
 and was ushered into a small and rude apartment, where 
 a man of between fifty and sixty years of age, seated on 
 a broken chair, though habited in a rich robe de chambre, 
 was engaged in conversation with a general officer, a man 
 of fewer years, whose finger was indicating certain points 
 upon a map, which, with many other papers, lay on a 
 rude table before them. Extreme dejection was the 
 prevailing expression that overspread the countenance of 
 the elder, while there mingled with the sadness that 
 marked the noble features of the other, a tinge of sub- 
 dued anger, as certain suggestions he offered, when he
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 97 
 
 laid his finger, from time to time, on the map, were 
 received with coldness, if not with refusal. 
 
 "Here at least we can make a bold stand," said the 
 general, and his eye flashed, and his brow knit as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "I fear not, Sarsfield," said the king, for it was the 
 unfortunate James the Second who spoke. 
 
 Sarsfield withdrew his hand suddenly from the map, and 
 folding his arms, became silent. 
 
 " May it please you, my liege," said the horseman, 
 whose entry had not been noticed by either Sarsfield or 
 his sovereign. "I hope I have not intruded on your 
 Majesty." 
 
 "Who speaks?" said the king, as he shaded his eyes 
 from the light that burned on the table, and looked into 
 the gloom where the other was standing. 
 
 "Your enemies, my liege," said Sarsfield, with some 
 bitterness, "would not be so slow to discover a tried 
 friend of your Majesty 'tis the White Horseman ; " and 
 Sarsfield, as he spoke, gave a look full of welcome and 
 joyous recognition towards him. 
 
 The horseman felt, with the pride of a gallant spirit, 
 all that the general's look and manner conveyed, and he 
 bowed his head, respectfully, to the leader, whose boldness 
 and judgment he so often had admired. 
 
 "Ha! my faithful White Horseman," said the king. 
 
 "Your Majesty's poor and faithful subject, Gerald 
 Pepper," was the answer. 
 
 ii.
 
 98 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "You have won the name of the White Horseman," 
 said Sarsfield, "and you deserve to wear it." 
 
 The horseman bowed. 
 
 " The general is right," said the king. " I shall ne^ er 
 remember you under any other name. You and your 
 white horse have done good service." 
 
 "Would that they could have done more, my liege," 
 was the laconic and modest reply. 
 
 "Would that every one," laying some stress on the 
 word, "had been as true to the cause yesterday!" 20 said 
 Sarsfield. 
 
 "And what has brought you here?" said the king, 
 anxious perhaps to escape from the thought that his 
 general's last words had suggested. 
 
 "I came, my liege, to ask permission to bid your 
 Majesty farewell, and beg the privilege to kiss your royal 
 hand." 
 
 "Farewell?" echoed the king, startled at the word. 
 "Are you, too, going? every one deserts me!" There 
 was intense anguish in the tone of his voice, for, as he 
 spoke, his eye fell upon a ring he wore, which encircled 
 the portrait of his favourite daughter, Anne, and the 
 remembrance that she, his own child, had excited the 
 same remark from the lips of her father that bitter 
 remembrance came across his soul and smote him to the 
 heart. He was suddenly silent his brow contracted he 
 closed his eyes in anguish, and one bitter tear sprang 
 from under either lid at the thought. He passed his
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 99 
 
 hand across his face, and wiped away the womanish 
 evidence of his weakness. 
 
 "Do not say I desert you, my liege," said Gerald 
 Pepper. "I leave you, 'tis true, for the present, but I 
 do not leave you, until I can see no way in which I can 
 be longer useful. While in my own immediate district, 
 there were many ways in which my poor services might 
 be made available; my knowledge of the country, of its 
 people and its resources, its passes and its weak points, 
 were of service. But here, or farther southward, where 
 your Majesty is going, I can no longer do anything 
 which might win the distinction that your Majesty and 
 General Sarsfield are pleased to honour me with. 11 
 
 "You have still a stout heart, a clear head, a bold 
 arm, and a noble horse, 11 said Sarsfield. 
 
 "I have also a weak woman and helpless children, 
 general, 11 said Gerald Pepper. 
 
 The appeal was irresistible Sarsfield was silent. 
 
 "But though I cannot longer aid with my arm my 
 wishes and my prayers shall follow your majesty and 
 whenever I may be thought an agent to be made useful, my 
 king has but to command the willing services of his subject." 
 
 "Faithfully promised," said the king. 
 
 "The promise shall be as faithfully kept," said his 
 follower; "but before I leave, may I beg the favour of 
 a moment's private conversation with your Majesty?" 
 
 "Speak anything you have to communicate before 
 Sarsfield, 11 said the king.
 
 100 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 Gerald Pepper hesitated for a moment; he was strug- 
 gling between his sovereign's command and his own delicacy 
 of feeling ; but overcoming the latter, in deference to the 
 former, he said : 
 
 "Your Majesty's difficulties with respect to money 
 supplies." 
 
 " I know, I know," said the king, somewhat impatiently, 
 "I owe you five hundred pieces." 
 
 "Oh! my liege," said the devoted subject, dropping on 
 his knee before him, "deem me not so unworthy as to 
 seek to remind your Majesty of the trifle you did me 
 honour to allow me to lay at your disposal ; I only regret 
 I had not the means of contributing more. It is not 
 that; but I have brought here another hundred pieces, 
 it is all I can raise at present, and if your Majesty will 
 further honour me by the acceptance of so poor a pittance, 
 when the immediate necessities of your army may render 
 every trifle a matter of importance, I shall leave you 
 with a more contented spirit, conscious that I have done 
 all within my power for my king." And, as he spoke, 
 he laid on a table a purse containing the gold. 
 
 " I cannot deny that we are sorely straitened," said the 
 king, "but I do not like it." 
 
 "Pray do not refuse it, my liege," said Gerald, still 
 kneeling "do not refuse the last poor service your sub- 
 ject may ever have it in his power to do in your cause." 
 "Well," said the king "I accept it but I would not 
 do so if I were not sure of having, one day, the means
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS. 101 
 
 of rewarding your loyalty and generosity. 11 And thus 
 allowing himself to be the dupe of his own fallacious 
 hopes, he took from poor Gerald Pepper the last hundred 
 guineas he had in his possession, with that happy facility 
 that kings have always exhibited, in accepting sacrifices 
 from enthusiastic and self-devoted followers. 
 
 " My mission here is ended now," 1 said Gerald. " May 
 I be permitted to kiss my sovereign's hand?" 
 
 "Would that all my subjects were as faithful," said 
 James, as he held out his hand to Gerald Pepper, who 
 kissed it respectfully, and then arose. 
 
 "What do you purpose doing when you leave me?" 
 said the king. 
 
 "To return to my home as soon as I may, my liege." 
 
 "If it be my fate to be driven from my kingdom by 
 my unnatural son-in-law, I hope he may be merciful to 
 my people, and that none may suffer for their adherence 
 to the cause of their rightful sovereign." 
 
 " I wish, my liege," said Gerald, " that he may have 
 half the consideration for his Irish subjects that your 
 Majesty had for your English ones;" 21 and he shook his 
 head doubtfully as he spoke, and his countenance sud- 
 denly fell. 
 
 A hard-drawn sigh escaped from Sarsfield, and then, 
 biting his lip, and with knitted brow, he exchanged a 
 look of bitter meaning with Gerald Pepper. 
 
 "Adieu then," said the king, "since you will go. See 
 our good friend to his saddle, Sarsh'eld. Once more, good
 
 102 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 night ; King James will not forget the White Horseman. 11 
 So saying, he waved his hand in adieu. Gerald Pepper 
 bowed low to his sovereign, and Sarsfield followed him 
 from the chamber. They were both silent till they 
 arrived at the portal of the tower, and when the door 
 was opened, Sarsfield crossed the threshold with the visitor, 
 and stepped into the fresh air, which he inhaled audibly 
 three or four times, as if it were a relief to him. 
 
 "Good night, General Sarsfield, 11 said Gerald. 
 
 "Good night, my gallant friend, 11 said Sarsfield, in a 
 voice that expressed much vexation of spirit. 
 
 "Don^ be too much cast down, general, 11 said Gerald, 
 "better days may come, and fairer fields be fought." 
 
 "Never, never! 11 said Sarsfield. "Never was a fairer 
 field than that of yesterday, never was a surer game if 
 it had been rightly played. But there is a fate, my 
 friend, hangs over our cause, and I fear that destiny 
 throws against us. 11 
 
 "Speak not thus, general, think not thus. 11 
 
 "Would that I could think otherwise but I fear I 
 speak prophetically. 11 
 
 "Do you then give up the cause?" said Gerald in 
 surprise. 
 
 " No, 11 said Sarsfield, firmly, almost fiercely. " Never 
 I may die in the cause, but I will never desert it, as 
 long as I have a troop to follow me but I must not 
 loiter here. Farewell! Where is your horse? 11 
 
 "I left him in the care of one of the attendants."
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 103 
 
 "I hope you are well mounted.'"'' 
 
 "Yes; here comes my charger."" 
 
 "What!" said Sarsfield, "the white horse!" 
 
 " Yes, surely," said Gerald ; " you never saw me back 
 any other." 
 
 "But after the tremendous fatigue of yesterday," said 
 Sarsfield in surprise, "is it possible he is still fresh?" 
 
 "Fresh enough to serve my turn for to-night," said 
 Gerald, as he mounted into the saddle. The white horse 
 gave a low neigh of seeming satisfaction as his master 
 resumed his seat. 
 
 "Noble brute!" said Sarsfield, as he patted the horse 
 on the neck, which was arched into the proud bend of 
 a bold steed who knows a bold rider is on his back. 
 
 "And now farewell, general," said Gerald, extending 
 his hand. 
 
 "Farewell, my friend. Fate is unkind to deny the 
 charm of a victorious cause to so gallant a spirit." 
 
 " There is more gallantry in remaining unshaken under 
 defeat; and you, general, are a bright example of the 
 fact." 
 
 "Good night, good night," said Sarsfield, anxious to 
 escape from hearing his own praise, and wringing the 
 hand that was presented to him with much warmth : he 
 turned towards the portal of the tower, but before he 
 entered, Gerald again addressed him. 
 
 "Pray tell me, general, is your regiment here? before 
 I go, I would wish to take leave of the officers of that
 
 104 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 gallant corps, in whose ranks I have had the honour to 
 draw a sword." 
 
 "They are not yet arrived. They are on the road, 
 perhaps, by this time ; but I ordered they should be the 
 last to leave Dublin, for as, yesterday, they suffered the 
 disgrace of being led the first out of the battle, 22 I took 
 care they should have the honour of being the last in the 
 rear to night, to cover our retreat." 
 
 "Then remember me to them," said Gerald. 
 
 "They can never forget the White Horseman," said 
 Sarsfield; "and they shall hear you left the kind word 
 of remembrance for them. Once more, good night." 
 
 "Good night, general; God's blessing be upon you!" 
 
 "Amen!" said Sarsfield ; "and with you." 
 
 They then wrung each other's hand in silence. Sars- 
 field re-entered the tower, and Gerald Pepper giving the 
 rein to his steed, the white horse left the spot as rapidly 
 as he had approached it. 
 
 For some days, Gerald Pepper remained in Dublin, 
 where he had ridden to the night after his interview 
 with the king. The house of a friend afforded him 
 shelter, for he did not deem it prudent to be seen in 
 public, as his person was too well known, and his services 
 to King James too notorious, not to render such a course 
 dangerous. He, therefore, was obliged to submit to being 
 cooped up in an attic in his friend's house, while he 
 stayed in the city. His sojourn in Dublin originated in 
 his anxiety to hear what was going forward at head-
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 105 
 
 quarters; for there was but too much reason to fear, 
 from all former examples in Ireland, that forfeitures to 
 a great extent would take place, and to ascertain whether 
 his name should be amongst the proscribed was the 
 object that detained him from his home. His patience, 
 however, became exhausted, and one morning, when his 
 friend came to speak with him previously to going forth 
 into the city to see and hear what was stirring, Gerald 
 said he could endure the restraint of his situation and 
 the absence from his family no longer. " My poor Mag- 
 dalene," said he, " cannot, I know, endure the suspense 
 attendant upon my absence much longer, and her gentle 
 nature will sink under so severe a trial ; therefore, my 
 excellent, my kind friend, to-morrow morning I will 
 leave you." 
 
 "Perhaps a day or two more may set your mind at 
 rest; or, at least, will end your suspense respecting the 
 course about to be pursued with the adherents of the 
 king." 
 
 "I wait no longer than to-day," said Gerald, "I am 
 resolved." 
 
 His friend sallied forth, with this parting assurance 
 from his guest, and had not been absent more than an 
 hour or two, when he returned; a low tap at the door 
 of Gerald's apartment announced his presence; the bolt 
 was drawn, and he entered. 
 
 "Gerald!" said his friend, grasping his hand, and 
 remaining silent.
 
 106 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " I understand," said Gerald ; " I am a ruined man." 
 
 How deeply expressive of meaning mere voice and 
 action become under the influence of feeling. Here the 
 uttering of a name, and the grasping of a hand, were 
 more potent than language ; for words could not so soon 
 have expressed the fatal truth, as the electric sympathy 
 that conveyed to Gerald's mind the meaning of his friend. 
 
 His friend made no other answer to Gerald's ejacula- 
 tion, than a suppressed groan, and then another fierce 
 grasp of the hand and a melancholy look into each other's 
 eyes passed between them. They then parted palms, and 
 each took a seat, and sat opposite to each other for 
 some minutes, in perfect silence. In that interval the 
 minds of both were busily engaged. Gerald's thoughts 
 flew back, at once, to his home, his dear home; he 
 thought of his sweet Magdalene and his darling children. 
 He saw Magdalene deprived of the comforts of life, with- 
 out a roof to shelter her, and heard his babes cry for 
 food, as they shivered in the cold ; the thought overcame 
 him, and he hid his face in his hands. The mind of his 
 friend had been engaged, at the moment, as to what was 
 the best course Gerald could pursue under existing cir- 
 cumstances, and his case, though hard, seemed not hopeless. 
 Therefore, when he saw Gerald sink as he had done, 
 unconscious of the bitter thought that overcame him, he 
 rose from his seat, and laying his hand kindly on the 
 shoulder of his friend, he said: 
 
 "Cheer up, cheer up, man! matters are not so desperate
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 107 
 
 as to reduce you to despair at once. You are not the 
 man I take you for, if such a blow as this, heavy though 
 it be, overcome you. 1 " 
 
 Gerald looked up; his eye was bright and his counte- 
 nance serene, as he met the compassionate look that was 
 cast upon him ; he had recovered all his self-possession. 
 The voice of his friend had dispelled the terrible vision 
 that fancy had presented him with, and recalled his ideas 
 from home, where his affectionate nature first prompted 
 them to fly. 
 
 "I do not despair, 11 he said, "nor am I overcome. 
 There was a terrible thought came over me that moment, 
 which quite unmanned me, but you see I am calm again. 11 
 
 " Yes, you look like yourself now." 
 
 "And will not relapse, I promise you. When once I 
 know the worst, I am equal to meet my destiny, whatever 
 it may be : and having said so much, tell me what that 
 fate is. Ruined, I know I am ; but tell me in what 
 degree. Is my person denounced, as well as my patrimony 
 plundered from me? 11 
 
 "No. Your life and freedom are not menaced, but 
 your property is forfeited, and, in all probability, many 
 days will not elapse until you may be dispossessed by 
 some new master. 11 
 
 "Days!" said Gerald, "hours you mean; these gentry 
 make quick work of such matters. I must hasten home 
 directly." 
 
 "Will not to-morrow answer! 1 " asked his friend; "to-
 
 108 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 day may be profitably spent here, in consulting your best 
 mode of proceeding, as regards the future." 
 
 "The lapse of one day might produce a loss of some 
 consequence to a man who is robbed of every acre he has 
 in the world." 
 
 " How ? " asked his friend. 
 
 "I would like to be beforehand with the plunderers, 
 that I might secure any small articles of value, such as 
 jewels or plate, from their clutches." 
 
 "Surely, these are not included in the forfeiture of a 
 man's lands." 
 
 "The troopers of the Prince of Orange will not be 
 very nice in making such legal distinctions; therefore I 
 will hasten home, and save all I can from the wreck." 
 
 " Before you go, one word more," said his friend. " If 
 your property happen to fall to the lot of a trooper, as 
 you say ; one of these fellows would rather have a round 
 sum of hard cash, than be encumbered with lands ; and 
 if you manage matters well, a few hundred pieces may 
 buy off the invader. I have heard of hundreds of broad 
 acres being so saved, in Cromwell's time." 
 
 "That hope of rescue is debarred me," said Gerald; 
 " all the disposable cash I had, I gave to the king." 
 
 "What! not a rouleau left?" 
 
 "The last hundred I could command, I gave him." 
 
 " That's unfortunate," said his friend ; " the more so, 
 as it is beyond my power to supply the want." 
 
 "I know it I know it," said Gerald, impatiently,
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 109 
 
 "don't name it. If Heaven be pleased to spare me life 
 and health, I shall be able to weather the storm. I have 
 as much plate and other valuables as, when converted 
 into cash, will enable me to carry my family to France, 
 and still leave something in my purse. At the French 
 court I hope I can reckon on a good reception, and I 
 have my sword to offer to the service of the French king, 
 and I doubt not, from the interest I think I can reckon 
 on, that I should find employment in the ranks of the 
 gallant Louis. 1 " 
 
 " You have decided soon on your course of proceeding, 
 Gerald," said his friend, somewhat surprised at the cool- 
 ness and decision he exhibited. 
 
 "Yes; and you wonder at it,"" said Gerald, "because 
 you saw me cast down for a moment; but the bitter 
 thought that overcame me is past. I see distinctly the 
 path before me which will secure my wife and children 
 from want, and that once secured, I repine not, nor shall 
 cast one regret after the property I have lost in a noble 
 cause. Farewell, my friend! Thanks and blessings be 
 yours from me and mine, for all your care for me. 
 Before I leave Ireland you shall see me again, but for 
 the present, farewell!" 
 
 In ten minutes more, Gerald Pepper was in his saddle, 
 and his trusty steed was bearing him to the home that 
 cost him so much anxiety. 
 
 As he pushed his way rapidly along the road, his 
 thoughts were so wholly engrossed by his present calami-
 
 110 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 tous circumstances, that he heeded no outward object, 
 nor even uttered one cheering word, or sound of encour- 
 agement, to his favourite horse ; and it was not until the 
 noble round tower of Swords 23 rose upon his view, that 
 he became conscious of how far he had progressed home- 
 wards, and of the speed with which he had been going; 
 he drew the bridle when he arrived at the summit of the 
 hill that commands the extensive plain which lies at the 
 foot of the mountain range that skirts the counties of 
 Dublin and Kildare, and stretches onward into Meath and 
 Lowth, and the more northern counties. The mountains 
 of Carlingford and Mourne spired upwards in their beau- 
 tiful forms, where the extreme distance melted into blue 
 haze, and the sea could scarcely be distinguished from the 
 horizon : but nearer, on his right, its level line of blue 
 was distinctly defined as glimpses of it appeared over the 
 woods of Feltrim and Malahide, occasionally broken by 
 the promontory of Howth, the grotesque pinnacles of 
 Ireland's Eye, and the bold island of Lambay. 
 
 As he was leisurely descending the hill into the village 
 beneath him, a figure suddenly appeared on a bank that 
 overhung the road, and leaped into the highway ; he ran 
 over towards Gerald, and clasping his knee with both 
 hands, said, with fervour 
 
 " God save you, Masther Gerald, dear! oh then is that 
 yourself safe and sound again?" 
 
 "What!" said Gerald, in surprise, "Rory Oge! by 
 what chance are you here?"
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 111 
 
 " You may say chance, sure enough wait a minit, and 
 Til tell you, for it's out o' breath I am with the race I 
 made acrass the fields, without, when I seen you pow- 
 dherin' down the road at the rate of a hunt, and afear'd 
 I was you would be gone past and out o' call before I 
 could get to the ditch. 11 
 
 "Is my family well?" said Gerald, "can you 
 tell me?" 
 
 "They're all hearty." 
 
 "Thanks be to God," said Gerald, devoutly. 
 
 "Amen," responded Rory. 
 
 "My poor wife, I suppose, has been fretting." 
 
 " Throth to be sure, an 1 no wondher; the poor misthriss ; 
 but she keeps up wondherful, and I was goin 1 to Dublin 
 myself to look for you." 
 
 "You, Rory!" 
 
 " Yis, me, and why not ? and very nigh missin ' you I 
 was, and would, only for Tareaway here," putting his 
 hand on the neck of the horse; "for you wor so far off 
 when I first got a sight o' you, that I think I wouldn't 
 have minded you, but I knew the proud toss of Tareaway's 
 head, more betoken the white coat of him makes him so 
 noticeable." 
 
 "But who sent you to Dublin, to look for me?" 
 
 " Myself, and nobody else it was my own notion ; for 
 I seen the misthriss was onaisy, and I had a misgivin 1 
 somehow that I'd come upon you, and sure enough I did, 
 for here you are."
 
 112 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "But not in Dublin, Rory," said Gerald, who could 
 not forbear a smile even in his sadness. 
 
 " Well, it's all one, sure," said Rory, " for here you are 
 and I found you, as I said before; and now, Masther 
 Gerald dear, that I see you're safe yourself, will you tell 
 me how matthers goes on wid the king and his cause?" 
 
 " Badly enough, I fear, Rory, and worse with his friends," 
 said Gerald, with a heavy sigh. 
 
 Rory caught at his meaning with native intelligence, 
 and looking up into his face with the most touching 
 expression of affection and anxiety, said, "God keep uz 
 from harm, Masther Gerald dear, and sure it's not yourself 
 that is come to throuble, I hope." 
 
 "Yes, Rory," said Gerald, "I am a ruined man." 
 
 " Oh Masther Gerald dear, don't say that," said Rory, 
 with much emotion. " Who dar ' ruinate you ? " said he, 
 indignantly ; and then, his voice dropping into a tone of 
 tenderness, he added, " Who'd have the heart to ruinate you ?" 
 
 "Those who have nothing to fear nor love me for, 
 Rory," answered Gerald. 
 
 "Is it them vagebone Williamites them thraitors to 
 their king and their God and their counthry them 
 outlandish villians! The Peppers o' Ballygarth ruinated! 
 Oh what will the counthry come to at all at all! ! But 
 how is it they can ruinate you, Masther Gerald?" 
 
 "By leaving me without house or land." 
 
 "You don't want to make me believe they'll dhrive 
 you out o' Ballygarth?"
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 113 
 
 " Ballygarth is no longer mine, Rory. I shall not have 
 an acre left me. 1 ' 
 
 "Why, who dar for to take it from you?"" 
 
 "Those who have power to do so now, Rory; the 
 conquerors at the Boyne." 
 
 " Why, bad cess to them, sure they won the day there, 
 and more's the pity,' 1 said Rory, "and what do they 
 want more ? Sure, when they won the day, that's enough ; 
 we don't deny it; and sorry I am to say that same; 
 but sure that should contint any raisonable faction, 
 without robbin ' the people afther. Why, suppose a chap 
 was impidint to me, and that I gev him a wallopin' for 
 it, sure that ud be no raison why I should take the 
 clothes aff his back, or rob him iv any thrifle he might 
 have about him ; and isn't it all one ? Sure, instid of 
 havin ' a crow over him for bein ' the best man, I'd only 
 be a common robber, knockin' a man down for what I 
 could get. And what differ is there betune the cases?" 
 
 "That you are only an humble man, Rory, and that 
 the other person is a king." 
 
 "Well, and sure if he is a king, shouldn't he behave 
 as sitch, and give a good example instead of doin ' a dirty 
 turn like that? Why should a king do what a poor 
 man, like me, would be ashamed of?" 
 
 Here, Rory broke out into a mingled strain of indig- 
 nation against the oppressor, and lament for the oppressed, 
 and wound up by this very argumentative and convincing 
 peroration 
 
 ii.
 
 114 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " And so that furrin moroder that they call a king, is 
 goin' to rob and plundher and murdher you intirely, 
 and for what, I'd like to know? Is it bekase you stud 
 up for the rale king, your own king, and your counthry, 
 it is? Bad fortune to him, sure, if he had any honour 
 at all, he'd only like you the betther iv it ; and, instead 
 iv pursuin ' you with his blackguard four-futted 24 laws, it's 
 plazed he ought to be that you didn't come acrass him 
 yourself when your swoord was in your hand, and the 
 white horse undher you. Oh, the yallow faced thief! he 
 has no gratitude!!" 
 
 A great deal more of equally good reasoning and abuse 
 was indulged in by Rory, as he walked beside the white 
 horse and his rider. Gerald remained silent until they 
 arrived at the foot of the hill, and were about to enter 
 the village, when he asked his companion what he intended 
 doing, now that he had found the object of his search. 
 
 " Why, I'll go back to be sure," said Rory, " and be 
 of any use I can to you; but you had betther make no 
 delay in life, Masther Gerald, but make off to the mis- 
 thriss as fast as you can, for it's the heart of her will 
 leap for joy when she claps her two good-looking eyes 
 on you." 
 
 "I intend doing so, Rory; and I will expect to see 
 you to-moiTow." 
 
 "It may be a thrifle later nor that, Masther Gerald, 
 for I intind stoppin ' in Swoords to-night ; but you'll see 
 me afore long, anyhow."
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 115 
 
 "Then, good-bye, Rory, for the present,' 1 said Gerald 
 as he put spurs to his horse, and sweeping at a rapid 
 pace round one of the angles of the picturesque castle 
 that formerly commanded the entrance to the village, he 
 was soon lost to the sight of Rory Oge, who sent many 
 an affectionate look and blessing after him. 
 
 The appearance of Rory Oge was too sudden, to permit 
 any explanation to be given to the reader of who he 
 was, when first introduced into the story; but now that 
 the horseman's absence gives a little breathing time, a 
 word or two on that subject may not be inapposite. 
 
 Rory Oge was foster-brother to Gerald Pepper, and 
 hence the affection and familiarity of address that existed 
 and was permitted between them. In Ireland, as in 
 Scotland, the ties thus originating between two persons 
 who have been nurtured at the same breast, are held as 
 very dear, and were even more so, formerly, than now. 
 Rory Oge might thus, as foster-brother to Gerald, have 
 had many advantages, in the way of worldly comfort, 
 which he not only did not seek for, but had even shunned. 
 Making use of such advantages must have involved, at 
 the same time, a certain degree of dependence, and this 
 the tone of his character would have rendered unpleasing 
 to him. There was a restlessness in his nature, with 
 which a monotonous state of being would have been 
 incompatible; an independence of mind also, and a 
 something of romance, which prompted him to be a free 
 agent. To all these influences was added a passionate
 
 116 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 love of music ; and it will not, therefore, be wondered at, 
 that Rory Oge had determined on becoming an erratic 
 musician. The harp and the bagpipes he had contrived, 
 even in his boyhood, to become tolerably familiar with ; 
 and when he had taken up the resolution of becoming 
 a professed musician, his proficiency upon both instruments 
 increased rapidly, until, at length, he arrived at a degree 
 of excellence, as a performer, seldom exceeded. Ulti- 
 mately, however, the pipes was the instrument he prin- 
 cipally practised upon : his intuitive love of sweet 
 sounds would have prompted him to the use of the 
 harp, but the wandering life he led rendered the 
 former instrument so much more convenient, from its 
 portability, that it became his favourite, from fitness 
 rather than choice. 
 
 In the cool of the evening, Rory Oge was seated at 
 the back of a cottage on the skirts of a village, and a 
 group of young people of both sexes were dancing on 
 the green sod to the inspiring music of his pipes. More 
 than an hour had been thus employed, and the twilight 
 was advancing, when a fresh couple stood up to dance, 
 and Rory, after inflating his bag and giving forth the 
 deep hum of his drone, let forth his chaunter into one 
 of his best jigs, and was lilting away in his merriest 
 style; but the couple, instead of commencing the dance, 
 joined a group of the bystanders, who seemed to have 
 got their heads together upon some subject of importance, 
 and listened to the conversation, instead of making good
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 117 
 
 use of their own time, the day's declining light, and 
 Rory's incomparable music. 
 
 At length they turned from the knot of talkers, and 
 were going to dance, when the girl told her partner she 
 would rather have another jig than the one Rory was 
 playing. The youth begged of Rory to stop. 
 
 "For what?" said Rory. 
 
 "Aggy would rather have another jig," said her beau, 
 "for she doesn't like the one you're playin'." 
 
 "Throth, it's time for her to think iv it," said Rory, 
 "and I playin' away here all this time for nothin' and 
 obleeged now to put back the tune. Bad cess to me, 
 but it's too provokin', so it is; and why couldn't you 
 tell me so at wanst?" 
 
 "Now don't be angry, Rory," said Aggy, coming 
 forward herself to appease his anger ; " I ax your pardon, 
 but I was jist listenin' to the news that they wor tellin'." 
 
 " What news ? " said the piper. " I suppose they havn't 
 fought another battle?" 
 
 " No ; but one would think you wor a witch, Rory ; 
 for, if it's not a battle, there's a sojer in it." 
 
 "What sojer?" said Rory, with earnestness. 
 
 "Why, a sojer a' horseback rode into the town awhile 
 ago, jist come down from Dublin, and is stoppin' down 
 below at the public." 
 
 A thought at once flashed across Rory's mind that the 
 visit of a soldier at such a time might have some con- 
 nexion with the events he had become acquainted with
 
 118 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 in the morning, and, suddenly rising from his seat, he 
 said, "Faix, and I don't see why I shouldn't see the 
 sojer as well as everybody else, and so I'll go down to 
 the public myself." 
 
 "Sure, you won't go, Rory, until you give us the tune, 
 and we finish our dance?" 
 
 " Finish, indeed," said Rory ; " why, you didn't begin 
 it yet." 
 
 "No, but we will, Rory." 
 
 "By my sowl, you won't," said Rory very sturdily, 
 unyoking his pipes at the same time. 
 
 "Oh, Rory," said Aggy, in great dismay, "Rory if 
 if you plaze." 
 
 " Well, I don't plaze ; and there's an end iv it. I was 
 bellowsing away there for betther nor ten minutes, and 
 the divil a toe you'd dance, but talking all the time, 
 and then you come and want me to put back the tune. 
 Now, the next time you won't let good music be wasted; 
 throth, it's not so plenty." 
 
 "Not such as yours, in throth, Rory," said Aggy, in 
 her own little coaxing way. " Ah, now, Rory ! " 
 
 "'Twon't do, Aggy; you think to come over me now 
 with the blarney ; but you're late, says Boyce : " 2S and so 
 saying, off he trudged, leaving the dancers in dudgeon. 
 
 He went directly to the public, where he found an 
 English officer of King William's cavalry had not only 
 arrived, but intended remaining, and, to that end, was 
 superintending the grooming of his horse, before he was
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 119 
 
 put up for the night in a shabby little shed, which the 
 landlady of the public chose to call stable. Here Rory 
 Oge proceeded, and entered into conversation with the 
 ostler, as a preliminary to doing the same with the 
 soldier ; this he contrived with the address so peculiar to 
 his country and his class, and finding that the stranger 
 intended going northward in the morning, the suspicion 
 which had induced him to leave the dance and visit the 
 public ripened into uneasiness as to the object of the 
 stranger, and, desirous to arrive closer to the truth, he 
 thought he might test the intentions of the trooper in 
 a way that would not betray his own anxiety on the 
 subject, at the same time that it would sufficiently satisfy 
 him as to the other's proceedings. To this end, in the 
 course of the desultory conversation that may be supposed 
 to take place between three such persons as I have named, 
 Rory ingeniously contrived to introduce the name of 
 " Ballygarth," watching the Englishman closely at the 
 moment, whose attention became at once awakened at the 
 name, and, turning quickly to Rory, he said 
 
 "Ballygarth, did you say?" 
 
 "Yis, your honour," said Rory, with the most perfect 
 composure and seeming indifference, though, at the same 
 time, the success of his experiment convinced him that 
 the man who stood before him was he who was selected 
 to expel his beloved foster-brother from his home. 
 
 "How far is the place you name from this village?" 
 asked the soldier.
 
 120 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Indeed, it's not to say very convaynient," answered 
 Rory. 
 
 "How many miles do you reckon it? 1 ' 
 "Indeed, an' that same would be hard to say." 
 "I think," said the ostler, "it would be about " 
 "Twenty-four or twenty-five," interrupted Rory, giving 
 the ostler a telegraphic kick on the shin, at the same 
 time, by way of a hint not to contradict him. 
 
 " Aye, something thereaway," said the other, assenting, 
 and rubbing the intelligent spot. 
 
 " Why, Drokhe-da is not more than that from Dublin," 
 said the trooper, in some surprise. 
 
 "It's Drogheda you mane, I suppose, sir," said Rory, 
 noticing the Englishman's false pronunciation, rather than 
 his remark of the intentional mistake as to the distance 
 named. 
 
 "Aye, Droketty, or whatever you call it." 
 "Oh, that's no rule in life, your honour; for Bally- 
 garth, you see, does not lie convaynient, and you have 
 to go by so many cruked roads and little boreens to 
 come at it, that it is farther off, when you get there, than 
 a body would think. Faix, I know, I wish I was at the 
 ind o' my journey there to-morrow, for it's a long step 
 to go." 
 
 "Are you going there to-morrow?" said the trooper. 
 "Nigh-hand it, sir," said Rory, with great composure; 
 and, turning to the ostler, he said: " That's a fine baste 
 you're clainin', Pether,"
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 121 
 
 " My reason for asking," said the soldier, " is that I am 
 going in that direction myself, and, as you say the road 
 is intricate, perhaps you will show me the way.' 1 
 
 " To be sure I will, your honour," said Rory, endeavour- 
 ing to conceal his delight at the stranger's falling into 
 his designs so readily. "At all events, as far as I go 
 your road, you're heartily welkim to any sarvice I can do 
 your honour, only Fm afeard I'll delay you an your journey, 
 for indeed the baste I have is not the fastest." 
 
 "Shank's mare, 21 I suppose," said Peter, with a wink. 
 
 " No ; Teddy Ryan's horse," said Rory. " An' I suppose 
 your honour will be for startin' in the mornin'?" 
 
 " Yes," said the soldier ; and he thereupon arranged 
 with his intended guide upon the hour of their under- 
 taking their journey on the morrow; after which, the 
 piper wished him good night, and retired. 
 
 The conjecture of Rory Oge was right as to the identity 
 of the English soldier. He was one of those English 
 adherents of King William, for whose gratification and 
 emolument an immediate commission had been issued for 
 the enriching a greedy army, inflamed as well by religious 
 animosity as cupidity, at the expense of the community 
 at large. So indecent was the haste displayed to secure 
 this almost indiscriminate plunder, that "no courts of 
 judicature were opened for proceeding regularly and 
 legally." 27 But a commission was issued, under which 
 extensive forfeitures were made, and there was no delay 
 in making what seizures they could : but this rapacious
 
 122 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 spirit defeated its own ends in some instances, for the 
 unsettled state of the country rendered it difficult, if not 
 impossible, to secure the ill-gotten goods, from the head- 
 long haste it was necessary to proceed with. 28 
 
 It was in the gray of the succeeding morning that Rory 
 Oge stole softly from the back-door of the house of 
 entertainment where he, as well as the English soldier, 
 slept, and proceeded cautiously across the enclosure, in 
 the rear of the house, to the shed where the horse of 
 the stranger was stabled. Noiselessly he unhasped the 
 door of rough boards, that swung on one leather hinge, 
 and, entering the shed, he shook from his hat some corn 
 into the beast's manger ; and while the animal was engaged 
 in despatching his breakfast, Rory lifted his fore foot in 
 a very workmanlike manner into his lap, and commenced, 
 with a rasp, which he had finessed from a smith's forge 
 for the purpose, to loosen the nails of the shoe. As 
 soon as he had accomplished this to his satisfaction, 
 he retired to his sleeping-place, and remained there until 
 summoned to arise when the soldier was ready to take 
 the road. 
 
 At the skirts of the village, some delay occurred while 
 Rory stopped at the house of one of his friends who had 
 promised him the loan of a horse for his journey, which 
 arrangement he had contrived to make over night. It 
 was not long, however, before Rory appeared, leading 
 from behind the low hut of the peasant, by whom he 
 was followed, a very sorry piece of horse-flesh ; after mount-
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 123 
 
 ing, he held out his hand, first having passed it across 
 his mouth and uttered a sharp sound, something resem- 
 bling " thp. 1 ' " The offered palm was met by that of his 
 friend, after a similar observance on his part, and they 
 shook hands heartily, while exchanging some words in 
 their native tongue. Rory then signified to the English- 
 man that he was ready to conduct him. 
 
 The soldier cast a very discontented eye at the animal 
 on which his guide was mounted, and Rory interpreted 
 the look at once 
 
 "Oh, indeed, he's not the best, sure enough. I towld 
 your honour, last night, I was afeard I might delay you 
 a little for that same; but don't be onaisy, he's better 
 nor he looks, like a singed cat, and, if we can't go in a 
 hand gallop, sure there's the owld sayin' to comfort us, 
 that 'fair and aisy goes far in in a day 1 . 1 ' 
 
 "We have a long ride before us, though, 11 said the 
 soldier, "and your horse, I'm afraid, will founder before 
 he goes half way. 11 
 
 " Oh, don't be afeard av him in the laste, 11 said Rory ; 
 " he's owld, to be sure, but an ' owld frind is preferrable 
 to a new inimy'." 
 
 Thus, every objection on the part of the Englishman 
 was met by Rory with some old saying, or piece of in- 
 genuity of his own, in answer; and after some few minutes 
 of conversation, they dropped into silence and jogged 
 along. 
 
 In some time, the notice of the stranger was attracted
 
 124 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 by the singular and picturesque tower of Lusk that arose 
 on their sight, and he questioned Rory as to its history 
 and use. 
 
 "It's a church it is," said his guide. 
 
 "It looks more like a place of defence," said the sol- 
 dier; "it is a square tower with circular flankers." 
 
 "To be sure, it is a place of difince," said Rory. 
 "Isn't it a place of difince agin the divil, (God bless us) 
 and all his works; and mighty great people is proud to 
 be berrid in it for that same. There is the Barnewells, 
 (the lords of Kingsland I mane,) and they are berrid in 
 it time beyant tellin', and has an iligant monument in 
 it, the lord himself and his lady beside him, an the 
 broad o ' their backs, lyin ' dead, done to the life." 30 
 
 There was scarcely any tower or house that came 
 within view of the road they pursued, that did not present 
 Rory with an occasion for giving some account of it, or 
 recounting some tale connected with it, and thus many 
 a mile was passed over. It must be confessed, to be 
 sure, that Rory had most of the conversation to himself, 
 as the soldier helped him very little ; but as Rory's object 
 was to keep his attention engaged and while away the 
 time, and delay him on the road as long as he could, he 
 did not relax in his efforts to entertain, however little 
 reciprocity there was, on that score, between him and his 
 companion. At last, he led him from the high road 
 into every small by-way that could facilitate his purpose 
 of delaying, as well as of tiring the trooper and his
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 125 
 
 horse too, to say nothing of his plan of having a shoe 
 lost by the charger in a remote spot. Many a wistful 
 glance was cast at the fore shoe, and, at last, he had the 
 pleasure to see it cast, unnoticed by the rider. This, 
 Rory said nothing about, until they had advanced a mile 
 or two, and then, looking down for some time as if in 
 anxious observation, he exclaimed, "By dad, Fm afeard 
 your horse's fore shoe is gone." 
 
 The dragoon pulled up immediately and looked down ; 
 " I believe it is the off foot," said he. 
 
 " It's the off shoe, anyhow," said Rory ; " and that's worse." 
 
 The dragoon alighted and examined the foot thus 
 deprived of its defence, and exhibited a good deal of 
 silent vexation; "It is but a few days since I had him 
 shod," said he. 
 
 "Throth, then, it was a shame for whoever done it, 
 not to make a betther job iv it," said Rory. 
 
 The Englishman then inspected the remaining shoes of 
 his horse, and finding them fast, he noticed the singularity 
 of the loss of one shoe under such circumstances. 
 
 "Oh, that's no rule in life," said Rory, "for you may 
 remark that a horse never throws two shoes at a time, 
 but only one, by way of a warnin' as a body may say, 
 to jog your memory that he wants a new set ; and, indeed, 
 that same is very cute of a dumb baste; and I could 
 tell your honour a mighty quare story of a horse I knew 
 wanst, and as reg'lar as the day o' the month kem 
 round "
 
 126 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " I don't want . to hear any of your stories," said the 
 Englishman, rather sullenly; "but can you tell me how 
 I may have this loss speedily repaired?" 
 
 "Faix, an' I could tell your honour two stories easier 
 nor that, for not a forge I know nigher hand to this 
 than one that is in Duleek." 
 
 "And how far is Duleek?" 
 
 "'Deed, an' it's a good step." 
 
 " What do you call a good step ? " 
 
 "Why, it 'ill take a piece of a day to go there." 
 
 " Curse you!" said the dragoon, at last, provoked beyond 
 his constitutional phlegm at such evasive replies; "can't 
 you say how many miles?" 
 
 " I ax your honour's pardon," replied his guide, who now 
 saw that trifling would not answer : " To the best o' my 
 knowledge, we are aff o' Duleek about five miles, or 
 thereaway." 
 
 "Confound it!" said the soldier "Five miles, and this 
 barbarous road, and your long miles 31 into the bargain." 
 
 "Sure, I don't deny the road is not the best," said 
 Rory; "but if it's not good, sure we give you good 
 measure at all events." 
 
 It was in vain that the Englishman grumbled; Rory 
 had so ready and so queer an answer to every objection 
 raised by the soldier, that, at last, he remounted, and 
 was fain to content himself with proceeding at a very 
 slow pace along the vile by-road they travelled, lest he 
 might injure the hoof of his charger.
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 127 
 
 And now, Rory having effected the first part of his 
 object, set all his wits to work how he could make the 
 rest of the road as little tiresome as possible to the 
 stranger ; and he not only succeeded in effecting this, but 
 he managed, in the course of the day, to possess himself 
 of the soldier's secret, touching the object of his present 
 journey. 
 
 In the doing this, the scene would have been an amus- 
 ing one to a third person : it was an encounter between 
 phlegm and wit a trial between English reserve and 
 Irish ingenuity. 
 
 By the way, it is not unworthy of observation that a 
 common spring of action influences the higher and the 
 lower animals, under the circumstances of oppression and 
 pursuit. The oppressed and the pursued have only stra- 
 tagem to encounter force, or escape destruction. The fox 
 and other animals of the chase are proverbial for their 
 cunning, and every conquered people have been reduced 
 to the expedient of finesse, as their last resource. 
 
 The slave-driver tells you that every negro is a liar. 
 It is the violation of charity on the one hand that induces 
 the violation of truth on the other ; and weakness, in all 
 cases, is thus driven to deceit, as its last defence against 
 power. 
 
 The soldier, in the course of his conversation with his 
 guide, thought himself very knowing when he said, in a 
 careless way, that he believed there was some one of the 
 name of Pepper lived at Ballygarth.
 
 128 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Some one, is it?" said Rory, looking astonished; "Oh! 
 is that all you know about it? Some one, indeed! By 
 my conscience an 1 it's plenty of them there is. The coun- 
 thry is overrun with them." 
 
 " But I speak of Pepper of Ballygarth," said the other. 
 
 "The Peppers o' Ballygart you mane; for they are 
 livin' all over it as thick as rabbits in the back of an 
 owld ditch." 
 
 "I mean he who is called Gerald Pepper?" 
 
 "Why then, indeed, I never heerd him called that-a- 
 way before, and I dunna which o' them at all you mane ; 
 for you see there is so many o' them, as 1 said before, 
 that we are obleeged to make a differ betune them by 
 invintin' names for them ; and so we call a smooth-skinned 
 chap that is among them, White Pepper, and a dark 
 fellow (another o' the family) Black Pepper; and there's 
 a great long sthreel that is christened Long Pepper; and 
 there is another o' them that is tindher an one of his 
 feet, and we call him Pepper-corn ; and there is a fine 
 dashin' well-grown blade, the full of a door he is, long 
 life to him, and he is known by the name of Whole 
 Pepper; and it's quare enough, that he is married to a 
 poor little starved hound of a wife, that has the bittherest 
 tongue ever was in a woman's head, and so they call her 
 Ginger; and I think that is a highly saisoned family for 
 you. Now, which o' them is it you mane? is it White 
 Pepper, or Black Pepper, or Long Pepper, or Whole 
 Pepper, or Pepper-corn?"
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 129 
 
 "I don't know any of them," said the soldier; "Gerald 
 Pepper is the man I want." 
 
 "Oh, you do want him then," said Rory, with a very 
 peculiar intonation of voice. "Well, av coorse, if you 
 want him, you'll find him ; but look foreninst you there ; 
 there you may see the owld abbey of Duleek" : and he 
 pointed to the object as he spoke. 
 
 This was yet a mile, or so, distant, and the day was 
 pretty well advanced by the time the travellers entered 
 the village. Rory asked the soldier where it was his 
 honour's pleasure to stop, while he got his horse shod, and 
 recommended him to go to the abbey, where, of course, 
 the monks would be proud to give "any accommodation in 
 life v to a gentleman like him. But this proposal the soldier 
 did not much relish ; for though stout of heart, as most of 
 his countrymen, he was loath to be tempted into any 
 situation where he would have considered himself, to a 
 certain degree, at the mercy of a parcel of Popish monks ; 
 and poisoned viands and drugged wine were amongst 
 some of the objections which his Protestant imagination 
 started at the proposal. He inquired if there was not any 
 public in the village, and being answered in the affirmative, 
 his resolution was taken at once, of sheltering and getting 
 some refreshment there, while his horse should be under 
 the hands of the blacksmith. 
 
 Here, again, Rory's roguery came into practice; the 
 blacksmith of the village was his relative, and after de- 
 positing the fatigued and annoyed soldier at the little
 
 130 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 auberge, Rory went for the avowed purpose of getting 
 the smith to "do the job," but, in reality, to send him 
 out of the way ; and this was easily done, when the motive 
 for doing so was communicated. On his return to the 
 public, there was a great deal of well-affected disappoint- 
 ment on Rory's part at the absence of his near relation 
 the smith, as he told the betrayed trooper how " provok- 
 ing it was that he wasn't in the forge at that present, 
 but was expected at every hand's turn, and that the very 
 first instant minute he kem home, Ally (that was his 
 wife) would run up and tell his honour, and the horse 
 should be shod in no time." 
 
 "In no time?" said the soldier, with a disappointed 
 look; "You know I want to have him shod in time." 
 
 "Well, sure, that's what I mane," said Rory; "that 
 is, it will be jist no time at all antil he is shod." 
 
 "Indeed, an' you may believe him, your honour," said 
 mine host of the public, coming to the rescue, "for 
 there's no one he would do a sthroke o' work sooner for, 
 than Rory Oge here, seem' that he is of his own flesh 
 and blood, his own cousin wance removed." 
 
 " Faith, he is farther removed than that," replied Rory, 
 unable to contain a joke; "he is a more distant relation 
 than you think; but he'll do the work with a heart and 
 a half, for all that, as soon as he comes back; and, in- 
 deed, I think your honour, might as well make yourself 
 comfortable here antil that same time, and the sorra 
 betther enthertainmint you'll meet betune this and the
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 131 
 
 world's end, than the same man will give you ; Lanty 
 Lalor I mane, and there he is stan'in' forninst you; and 
 it's not to his face I'd say it, but behind his back too, 
 and often did, and will agin, I hope." 
 
 " Thank you kindly, Rory," said Lanty, with a bow and 
 scrape. 
 
 Some refreshment was accordingly prepared for the 
 soldier, who, after his fatigue, was nothing loath to com- 
 fort the inward man; the more particularly, as it was not only 
 the best, but the only thing he could do, under existing 
 circumstances; and after gorging profusely on the solids, 
 the fluids were next put under contribution, and, acting 
 on the adage that "good eating requires good drinking," 
 he entered into the feeling of that axiom with an earnest- 
 ness that Sancho Panza himself could not have outdone, 
 either in the spirit or the letter. 
 
 Rory was in attendance all the time, and still played his 
 game of engaging the stranger's attention as much as pos- 
 sible, with a view to divert him from his prime object, and 
 make him forget the delays that were accumulated upon 
 him. It was in this spirit that he asked him if he ever 
 "heerd tell of the remarkable place that Duleek was?" 
 
 " We made the place remarkable enough the other day," 
 said the soldier, with the insolence that the habit of 
 domination produces in little minds, "when we drove 
 your flying troops through the pass of Duleek, and your 
 runaway king at the head of them. I was one of the 
 fifty that did it." S2
 
 132 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 Rory, influenced by the dear object he had in view 
 smothered the indignation he felt rising to his throat, 
 and as he might not exhibit anger, he had recourse to 
 sarcasm, and said : 
 
 "In throth, your honour, I don't wondher at all at 
 the brave things you done, in the regard that it was at 
 Duleek ; and sure Duleek was always remarkable for 
 havin' the bowldest things done there, and about, ever 
 since the days of the 'Little Waiver." 
 
 "What Little Weaver?"" said the soldier. 
 
 "Why then, an' did you never hear of the Little 
 Waiver of Duleek Gate?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Well, that's wondherful!!" said Rory. 
 
 " I don't see how it's wonderful," said the trooper, " for 
 how could I hear of the Weaver of Duleek when I have 
 been living in England all my life?" 
 
 "Oh murther!" said Rory, in seeming amazement, "an' 
 don't they know about The Little Waiver o ' Duleek Gate, 
 in England?" 
 
 "No," said the trooper; "how should they?" 
 
 " Oh then what a terrible ignorant place England must 
 be, not for to know about that!!" 
 
 " Is it so very wonderful then ? " asked the man whose 
 country was thus aspersed. 
 
 "Wondherful!" said Rory. "By my sowl, it is that." 
 
 "Well, tell it to me then," said the soldier. 
 
 "Now, suppose I was to tell you, you see, the divil
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 133 
 
 a one taste you'd believe a word iv it; and it's callin' 
 me a fool you'd be ; and you'd be tired into the bargain 
 before I was half done, for it's a long story, and if you 
 stopped me I'd be lost." 
 
 "I won't stop you." 
 
 "But you won't b'lieve it; and that's worse." 
 
 " Perhaps I may," said the other, whose curiosity began 
 to waken. 
 
 "Well, that same is a promise, anyhow, and so here 
 goes ; " and Rory then related, with appropriate voice and 
 gesture, the following Legend.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE 
 A TALE OF CHIVALRY 
 
 You see, there was a Waiver lived, wanst upon a 
 time, in Duleek here, hard by the gate, and a very honest 
 industherous man he was, by all accounts. He had a 
 wife, and av coorse they had childhre, and small blame 
 to them, and plenty of them, so that the poor little 
 Waiver was obleeged to work his fingers to the bone 
 a'most, to get them the bit and the sup; but he didn't 
 begridge that, for he was an industherous crayther, as I 
 said before, and it was up airly and down late wid him, 
 and the loom never standin 1 still. Well, it was one mornin" 1 
 that his wife called to him, and he sitting very busy 
 thro win 1 the shuttle, and says she, "Come here," says 
 she, "jewel, and ate your brequest, now that it's ready." 
 But he never minded her, but wint an workin 1 . So in a 
 minit or two more, says she, callin' out to him agin, 
 "Arrah! lave off slavin' yourself, my darlin 1 , and ate your 
 bit o' brequest while it is hot." 
 
 "Lave me alone," says he, and he dhruv the shuttle 
 fasther nor before. 
 
 Well, in a little time more, she goes over to him where
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 135 
 
 he sot, and, says she, coaxin' him like, "Thady dear,' 1 
 says she, "the stirabout 33 will be stone cowld if you don't 
 give over that weary work and come and ate it at wanst." 
 
 "Fm busy with a patthern here that is brakin' my 
 heart," says the Waiver, "and antil I complate it and 
 masther it intirely, I won't quit." 
 
 "Oh, think o' the iligant stirabout, that 'ill be spylte 
 intirely. " 
 
 "To the divil with the stirabout," says he. 
 
 "God forgive you," says she, "for cursin" your good 
 brequest." 
 
 "Aye, and you too," says he. 
 
 "Throth you're as cross as two sticks this blissed 
 morning, Thady," says the poor wife, "and it's a heavy 
 handful I have of you when you are cruked in your 
 temper ; but stay there if you like, and let your stirabout 
 grow cowld, and not a one o' me 'ill ax you agin;" and 
 with that off she wint, and the Waiver, sure enough, was 
 mighty crabbed, and the more the wife spoke to him the 
 worse he got, which, you know, is only nath'ral. Well, 
 he left the loom at last, and wint over to the stirabout, 
 and what would you think but whin he looked at it, it 
 was as black as a crow ; for you see, it was in the hoighth 
 o' the summer, and the flies 'lit upon it to that degree, 
 that the stirabout was fairly covered with them. 
 
 "Why, thin, bad luck to your impidince," says the 
 Waiver, "would no place sarve you but that? and is it 
 spyling my brequest yiz are, ye dirty bastes ? " And with
 
 136 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 that, bein' altogether cruked-tempered at the time, he 
 lifted his hand, and he made one great slam at the dish 
 o' stirabout, and killed no less than three score and tin 
 flies at the one blow. It was three score and tin exactly, 
 for he counted the carcases one by one, and laid them 
 out an a clane plate, for to view them. 
 
 Well, he felt a powerful sperit risin' in him, when he 
 seen the slaughter he done, at one blow, and with that, 
 he got as consaited as the very dickens, and not a sthroke 
 more work he'd do that day, but out he wint, and was 
 fractious and impidint to every one he met, and was 
 squarein' up into their faces and sayin', "Look at that 
 fist! that's the fist that killed three score and tin at one 
 blow Whoo!" 
 
 With that, all the neighbours thought he was crack'd, 
 and faith the poor wife herself thought the same whin 
 he kem home in the evenin', afther spendin' every rap he 
 had, in dhrink, and swaggerin' about the place, and lookin' 
 at his hand every minit. 
 
 "Indeed an' your hand is very dirty, sure enough, 
 Thady jewel," says the poor wife, and thrue for her, for 
 he rowled into a ditch comin' home ; " You'd betther 
 wash it, darlin'." 
 
 " How dar' you say dirty to the greatest hand in Ire- 
 land?" says he, going to bate her. 
 
 "Well, it's nat dirty," says she. 
 
 " It's throwin' away my time I have been all my life," 
 says he, "livin' with you at all, and stuck at a loom,
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 137 
 
 nothin' put a poor Waiver, when it is Saint George or 
 the Dhraggin I ought to be, which is two of the siven 
 champions o' Christendom."" 
 
 "Well, suppose they christened him twice as much," 
 says the wife, "sure what's that to uz?" 
 
 "Don't put in your prate," says he, "you ignorant 
 
 sthrap," says he. " You're vulgar, woman you're vulgar 
 
 mighty vulgar; but I'll have nothin' more to say to 
 
 any dirty snakin' thrade again divil a more waivin' 
 
 Til do." 
 
 "Oh, Thady dear, and what'll the children do then?" 
 
 " Let them go play marvels," Sl says he. 
 
 "That would be but poor feedin' for them, Thady." 
 
 "They shan't want for feedin'," says he, "for it's a 
 rich man I'll be soon, and a great man too." 
 
 " Usha, but I'm glad to hear it, darlin', though I 
 dunna how it's to be, but I think you had betther go 
 to bed, Thady." 
 
 "Don't talk to me of any bed, but the bed o' glory, 
 woman," says he, lookin' mortial grand. 
 
 "Oh! God send we'll all be in glory yet," says the 
 wife, crassin' herself; "but go to sleep, Thady, for this 
 present." 
 
 "I'll sleep with the brave yit," says he. 
 
 "Indeed an' a brave sleep will do you a power o' 
 good, my darlin'," says she. 
 
 "And it's I that will be the knight!!" says he. 
 
 "All night, if you plaze, Thady," says she.
 
 138 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " None o ' your coaxin," says he. " I'm detarmined on 
 it, and I'll set off immediantly, and be a knight arriant." 
 
 "A what!!!" says she. 
 
 "A knight arriant, woman." 
 
 "Lord be good to me, what's that?" says she. 
 
 " A knight arriant is a rale gintleman," says he, " going 
 round the world for sport, with a swoord by his side, 
 takin' whatever he plazes, for himself; and that's a 
 knight arriant," says he. 
 
 "Just a'most like yourself, sir," said Rory, with a sly 
 sarcastic look at the trooper, who sat listening to him 
 with a sort of half-stupid, half-drunken wonder. 
 
 Well, sure enough, he wint about among his neigh- 
 bours the next day, and he got an owld kittle from one, 
 and a saucepan from another, and took them to the 
 tailor, who sewed him up a shuit o' tin clothes like any 
 knight arriant, and he borrowed a pot lid, and that he 
 was very partic'lar about, bekase it was his shield, and 
 he wint to a friend o' his, a painther and glazier, and 
 made him paint an his shield, in big letthers 
 
 I'M THE MAN OF ALL MIN, 
 
 THAT KILL'D THREE SCORE AND TIN, 
 
 AT WAN BLOW." 
 
 "When the people sees that," says the Waiver to 
 himself, "the sorra one will dar' for to come near me."
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 139 
 
 And with that, he towld the wife to scour out the 
 small iron pot for him, "for," says he, "it will make 
 an iligant helmet; 1 ' and when it was done, he put it 
 an his head, and the wife said, "Oh, murther, Thady 
 jewel, is it puttin' a great heavy iron pot an your head 
 you are, by way iv a hat?" 
 
 " Sartinly," says he, " for a knight arriant should always 
 have a waight an his brain." 
 
 "But, Thady dear," says the wife, "there's a hole in 
 it, and it can't keep out the weather." 
 
 "It will be the cooler," says he, puttin' it an him; 
 "besides, if I don't like it, it is aisy to stop it with a 
 wisp o' sthraw, or the like o' that." 
 
 "The three legs of it looks mighty quare, stickin' up," 
 says she. 
 
 "Every helmet has a spike stickin' out o' the top of 
 it," says the weaver, "and if mine has three, it's only 
 the grandher it is." 
 
 "Well," says the wife, getting bitther at last, "all I can 
 say is, it isn't the first sheep's head was dhress'd in it." 
 
 " Your sarvant, ma'am," says he ; and off he set. 
 
 Well, he was in want of a horse, and so he wint to a 
 field hard by, where the miller's horse was grazin', that 
 used to carry the ground corn round the counthry. " That 
 is the idintical horse for me," says the waiver; "he is 
 used to carryin' flour and male ; and what am I but the 
 flower o' shovelry in a coat o' mail; so that the horse 
 won't be put out iv his way in the laste."
 
 140 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 But as he was ridin' him out o' the field, who should 
 see him but the miller. " Is it stalin' my horse you are, 
 honest man?" says the miller. 
 
 "No,"" says the waiver, "I'm only goin' to axercise 
 him," says he, "in the cool o' the evenin'; it will be 
 good for his health." 
 
 "Thank you kindly," says the miller, "but lave him 
 where he is, and you'll obleege me." 
 
 "I can't afford it," says the waiver, runnin' the horse 
 at the ditch. 
 
 " Bad luck to your impidince ! " says the miller, " you've 
 as much tin about you as a thravellin' tinker, but you've 
 more brass. Come back here, you vagabone ! " says he. 
 
 But he was too late ; away galloped the waiver, and took 
 the road to Dublin, for he thought the best thing he 
 could do was to go to the King o' Dublin (for Dublin 
 was a grate place thin, and had a king iv its own) 
 and he thought, maybe, the King o' Dublin would give 
 him work. Well, he was four days goin' to Dublin, for 
 the baste was not the best, and the roads worse, not all 
 as one as now ; but there was no turnpikes then, glory 
 be to God!! 35 Whin he got to Dublin, he wint sthrait 
 to the palace, and whin he got into the coort-yard he 
 let his horse go and graze about the place, for the grass 
 was growin' out betune the stones; every thing was 
 flourishin' thin, in Dublin, you see. Well, the king was 
 lookin' out of his dhrawin'-room windy, for divarshin, 
 whin the waiver kem in; but the waiver pretended not
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 141 
 
 to see him, and he wint over to a stone sate, undher 
 the windy for you see, there was stone sates all round 
 about the place for the accommodation o' the people for 
 the king was a dacent, obleegin' man : well, as I said, 
 the waiver wint over and lay down an one o' the sates, 
 just undher the king's windy, and purtended to go asleep ; 
 but he took care to turn out the front of his shield, 
 that had the letthers an it. Well, my dear, with that 
 the king calls out to one of the lords of his coort that 
 was standin' behind him, howldin' up the skirt of his 
 coat, accordin' to rayson, and says he, " Look here," says 
 he, "what do you think of a vagabone like that, comin' 
 undher my very nose to go sleep ? It is thrue I'm a good 
 king," says he, "and I 'commodate the people by havin' 
 sates for them to sit down and enjoy the ray creation and 
 contimplation of seein' me here, lookin' out a 1 my drawin'- 
 room windy, for divarshin ; but that is no rayson they 
 are to make a hotel o' the place, and come and sleep 
 here. Who is it at all?" says the king. 
 
 "Not a one o' me knows, plaze your majesty." 
 
 " I think he must be a furriner," says the king, " bekase 
 his dhress is outlandish." 
 
 "And doesn't know manners, more betoken," says 
 the lord. 
 
 "I'll go down and circumspect him myself," says the 
 king: "folly me," says he to the lord, wavin' his hand 
 at the same time in the most dignacious manner. 
 
 Down he wint accordianly, followed by the lord; and
 
 142 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 when he wint over to where the waiver was lying, sure 
 the first thing he seen was his shield with the big letthers 
 an it, and with that, says he to the lord, "By dad," 
 says he, "this is the very man I want. 11 
 
 "For what, plaze your majesty? 11 says the lord. 
 
 "To kill that vagabone dhraggin, to be sure 11 , says 
 the king. 
 
 " Sure, do you think he could kill him, 11 says the lord, 
 "when all the stoutest knights in the land wasn't aiqual 
 to it, but never kem back, and was ate up alive by the 
 cruel desaiver? 11 
 
 " Sure, don't you see there, 11 says the king, pointin ' at 
 the shield, "that he killed three score and tin at one 
 blow; and the man that done that, I think, is a match 
 for any thing. 11 
 
 So, with that, he wint over to the waiver and shuck 
 him by the shouldher for to wake him, and the waiver 
 rubbed his eyes as if just wakened, and the king says to 
 him, "God save you, 11 says he. 
 
 " God save you kindly, 11 says the waiver, purtendin ' he 
 was quite unknowst who he was spakin 1 to. 
 
 "Do you know who I am, 11 says the king, "that you 
 make so free, good man? 11 
 
 "No indeed, 11 says the waiver, "you have the advan- 
 tage o 1 me. 11 
 
 "To be sure I have, 11 says the king, moighty high; 
 "sure, ain't I the king o 1 Dublin? 11 says he. 
 
 The waiver dhropped down an his two knees feminist
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 143 
 
 the king, and says he, "I beg God's pardon and yours 
 for the liberty I tuk ; plaze your holiness, I hope you'll 
 excuse it." 
 
 "No offince," says the king; " get up, good man. And 
 what brings you here?' 1 says he. 
 
 'Tm in want o' work, plaze your riverince," says the 
 waiver. 
 
 "Well, suppose I give you work?" says the king. 
 
 " Til be proud to sarve you, my lord," says the waiver. 
 
 "Very well," says the king. "You kill'd three score 
 and tin at one blow, I undherstan ' ? " says the king. 
 
 "Yis," says the waiver; "that was the last thrifle o' 
 work I done, and I'm afeard my hand 'ill go out o' 
 practice if I don't get some job to do, at wanst." 
 
 "You shall have a job immediantly," says the king. 
 " It is not three score and tin or any fine thing like that ; 
 it is only a blaguard dhraggin, that is disturbin' the 
 counthry and ruinatin' my tinanthry wid aitin' their 
 powlthry, and I'm lost for want of eggs," says the king. 
 
 "Throth thin, plaze your worship," says the waiver, 
 "you look as yollow as if you swallowed twelve yolks 
 this minit." 
 
 "Well, I want this dhraggin to be killed," says the 
 king. "It will be no throuble in life to you; and I'm 
 only sorry that it isn't betther worth your while, for he 
 isn't worth fearin' at all; only I must tell you, that he 
 lives in the county Galway, in the middle of a bog, and 
 he has an advantage in that."
 
 144 LEGEND AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Oh, I don't value that in the laste, 11 says the waiver ; 
 "for the last three score and tin that I killed was in a 
 soft place. 11 
 
 "When will you undhertake the job then? 11 says the 
 king. 
 
 "Let me at him at wanst, 11 says the waiver. 
 
 "Thafs what I like, 11 says the king; "you're the very 
 man for my money, 11 says he. 
 
 "Talkin 1 of money, 11 says the waiver, "by the same 
 token, Til want a thrifle o 1 change from you for my 
 thravellin 1 charges. 11 
 
 " As much as you plaze, 11 says the king ; and, with the 
 word, he brought him into his closet, where there was 
 an owld stockin 1 in an oak chest, burstin 1 wid goolden 
 guineas. 
 
 " Take as many as you plaze, 11 says the king : and sure 
 enough, my dear, the little waiver stuffed his tin clothes 
 as full as they could howld with them. 
 
 "Now, I'm ready for the road, 11 says the waiver. 
 
 "Very well, 11 says the king; "but you must have a 
 fresh horse, 11 says he. 
 
 "With all my heart, 11 says the waiver, who thought 
 he might as well exchange the miller's owld garran for 
 a betther. 
 
 And maybe itV wondherin 1 you are, that the waiver 
 would think of goin 1 to fight the dhraggin afther what 
 he heerd about him, when he was purtendin to be asleep; 
 but he had no sitch notion : all he intended was, to
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 145 
 
 fob the goold, and ride back again to Duleek with his 
 gains and a good horse. But you see, "cute as the waiver 
 was, the king was "cuter still; for these high quolity, 
 you see, is great desaivers; and so the horse the waiver 
 was put an, was lamed an purpose; and sure, the minit 
 he was mounted, away powdhered the horse, and the 
 divil a toe he'd go but right down to Galway. Well, 
 for four days he was goin' evermore, antil at last the 
 waiver seen a crowd o' people runnin' as if owld Nick was 
 at their heels, and they shoutin' a thousand murdhers 
 and cry in 1 , "The dhraggin! the dhraggin!" and he couldn't 
 stop the horse nor make him turn back, but away he 
 pelted right forninst the terrible baste that was comin' 
 up to him, and there was the most nefaarious smell o' 
 sulphur, savin' your presence, enough to knock you down ; 
 and faith the waiver seen he had no time to lose, and 
 so he threwn himself off the horse and made off to a 
 three that was growin' nigh-hand, and away he clambered 
 up into it as nimble as a cat ; and not a minit he had 
 to spare, for the dhraggin kem up in a powerful rage, 
 and he devoured the horse, body and bones, in less than 
 no time; and then he began to sniffle and scent about 
 for the waiver, and at last he clapt his eye an him, 
 where he was, up in the three, and says he, " In throth, 
 you might as well come down out o' that," says he, " for 
 Til have you as sure as eggs is mate." 
 
 "Divil a fut 111 go down," says the waiver. 
 
 "Sorra care I care," says the dhraggin, "for you're as 
 ii. 10
 
 146 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 good as ready money in my pocket this minit; for I'll 
 lie undher this three," says he, "and sooner or later you 
 must fall to my share;"" and sure enough he sot down, 
 and began to pick his teeth with his tail, afther the 
 heavy brequest he made that mornin 1 (for he ate a 
 whole village, let alone the horse), but he got dhrowsy 
 at last, and fell asleep; but before he wint to sleep, he 
 wound himself all round about the three, all as one as a 
 lady windin 1 ribbon round her finger, so that the waiver 
 could not escape. 
 
 Well, as soon as the waiver knew he was dead asleep, 
 by the snorin' of him and every snore he let out of him 
 was like a clap o' thundher 
 
 Here the trooper began to exhibit some symptoms of 
 following the dragon's example, and perhaps the critics 
 will say no wonder, but Rory, notwithstanding, pursued 
 the recital of the legend. 
 
 " That minit, the waiver began to creep down the three, 
 as cautious as a fox ; and he was very nigh-hand the bottom, 
 when, bad cess to it, a thievin 1 branch, he was dipindin' 
 an, bruk, and down he fell right a top o 1 the dhraggin : 
 but if he did, good luck was an his side, for where should 
 he fall but with his two legs right acrass the dhraggin's 
 neck, and, my jew'l, he laid ho wit o 1 the baste n s ears, 
 and there he kept his grip, for the dhraggin wakened 
 and enday voured for to bite him ; but, you see, by raison
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 147 
 
 the waiver was behind his ears, he could not come at 
 him, and, with that, he endayvoured for to shake him 
 off; but the divil a stir could he stir the waiver; and 
 though he shuk all the scales an his body, he could not 
 turn the scale agin the waiver. 
 
 " By the hokey, this is too bad intirely," says the dhraggin ; 
 "but if you won't let go," says he, "by the powers o' 
 wildfire, 111 give you a ride that 'ill astonish your siven 
 small sinses, my boy ; " and, with that, away he flew away 
 like mad; and where do you think did he fly? by dad, 
 he flew sthraight for Dublin divil a less. But the waiver 
 bein' an his neck was a great disthress to him, and he 
 would rather have had him an inside passenger; but, any 
 way, he flew and he flew till he kem slap up agin the 
 palace o' the king; for, bein 1 blind with the rage, he 
 never seen it, and he knocked his brains out; that is, 
 the small thrifle he had, and down he fell spacheless. 
 An' you see, good luck would have it, that the king o' 
 Dublin was lookin' out iv his dhrawin-room windy, for 
 divarshin, that day also, and whin he seen the waiver 
 ridin' an the fiery dhraggin (for he was blazin' like a 
 a tar-barrel), he called out to his coortyers to come and 
 see the show. "By the powdhers o' war, here comes the 
 knight arriant," says the king, "ridin' the dhraggin that's 
 all afire, and if he gets into the palace, yiz must be 
 ready wid the fire ingines," M says he, " for to put him 
 out." But when they seen the dhraggin fall down out- 
 side, they all run down stairs and scampered out into
 
 148 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 the palace-yard for to circumspect the curosity; and by 
 the time they got down, the waiver had got off o' 
 the dhraggin's neck, and, runnin' up to the king, says 
 he, "Plaze your holiness," says he, "I did not think 
 myself worthy of killin 1 this facetious baste, so I brought 
 him to yourself for to do him the honour of decripitation 
 by your own royal five fingers. But I tamed him first, 
 afore I allowed him the liberty for to dar' to appear in 
 your royal prisince, and you'll oblige me if you'll just 
 make your mark with your own hand upon the onruly 
 baste's neck. 1 " And with that, the king, sure enough, 
 dhrew out his swoord and took the head aiF the dirty 
 brute, as clane as a new pin. Well, there was great 
 rejoicin' in the coort that the dhraggin was killed; and 
 says the king to the little waiver, says he, "You are a 
 knight arriant as it is, and so it would be no use for 
 to knight you over agin; but I will make you a lord," 
 says he. 
 
 "Oh Lord!" says the waiver, thundersthruck like, at 
 his own good luck. 
 
 "I will," says the king; "and as you are the first man 
 I ever heer'd tell of that rode a dhraggin, you shall be 
 called Lord Mount Dhraggin," says he. 
 
 "And where's my estates, plase your holiness?" says 
 the waiver, who always had a sharp look-out afther the 
 main chance. 
 
 "Oh, I didn't forget that," says the king. "It is my 
 royal pleasure to provide well for you, and for that
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 149 
 
 ray son I make you a present of all the dhraggins in the 
 world, and give you power over them from this out, 11 
 says he. * 
 
 "Is that all? 11 says the waiver. 
 
 " All ? " says the king. " Why, you ongrateful little 
 vagabone, was the like ever given to any man before? 11 
 
 * Not any of this curious property remains, save what is 
 left in the memory of the chronicler; and I regret to say, 
 a great many Irish estates are in the same sorry condition. 
 
 One interesting relic, however, has escaped the otherwise 
 universal decay that has fallen on the noble house of Mount 
 Dragon. It is the genealogy and armorial bearings of the 
 family, which will, no doubt, afford matter of speculation to 
 the antiquary. Perhaps the ingenious Sir William Bethan, 
 Ulster King, < could give some further information on the 
 subject. 
 
 "Thady or Thaddeus, Patriarch of this familye, was of 
 Phoenician descente. There is a tradytione in y e familye 
 that y e arte of waivynge was firste introduced into Irelonde 
 by themme from Tyre, theye beinge thence called Tyros, 
 since y e which e tyme alle beginners so-everre, are so-called, 
 Hence alsoe is it inferred that y e Redde Kertle, which 
 prevails amongste y e Irishers is of y e true Tyrian Dye; 
 which hath soe moche disturbed y e repose of y e curious, 
 heretofore. 
 
 " Thisse noble familye beareth for theire achievemente and 
 hathe for theire SHIELDE, a potte lidde propperre, quarterlye 
 of three : Argente, Azure, and Gules : Ande overre all a 
 younge chylde displayed, proper*. The same withinne a 
 Horse collarr propperre, charged as an honnorrable distinction 
 for valoure and prowesse with ' Drag-onne.' f 
 
 * This allusion to the weaver's large family, by a child, three quar- 
 terly, is very happy. 
 
 t A play on the word Dragon (a practice common in ancient heraldry), 
 in allusion to the use of the horse collar and the conquered monster.
 
 150 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " I b'lieve not, indeed,"" says the waiver ; " many thanks 
 to your majesty." 
 
 "But that is not all Til do for you,"" says the king; 
 "Til give you my daughter too, in marriage," says he. 
 Now, you see, that was nothin 1 more than what he 
 promised the waiver in his first promise; for, by all 
 accounts, the king's daughter was the greatest dhraggin 
 ever was seen, and had the divil's own tongue, and a 
 beard a yard long, which she purtended was put an her, 
 by way of a penance, by father Mulcahy, her confissor; 
 but it was well known was in the family for ages, and 
 no wondher it was so long, by rayson of that same. 
 
 Rory paused. He thought that not only the closed 
 eyes but the heavy breathing of the soldier, gave sure 
 evidence of sleep; and in another minute, an audible 
 snore gave notice that he might spare himself any further 
 trouble; and, forthwith, the chronicler of "The Little 
 Weaver" stole softly out of the room. 
 
 "CRESTE. Onne a waiverrs shuttle Or, a potte, charged 
 with Stirre-a-bowte and potte-sticke all propperre. * 
 
 "SUPPORTERS. Dexterre a Dragonne Gules, winges elevated 
 Or Sinisterre a flie Azure, f 
 
 "MoTTOE. I flie." 
 
 * Very proper, 
 t A blue bottle, evidently. 
 
 A triple allusion to the weaver's first heroic deed, his masterly 
 retreat from the dragon, and his homeward victorious flight upon him.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 
 
 LET the division I have made in my chapters serve, 
 in the mind of the reader, as an imaginary boundary 
 between the past day and the ensuing morning. Let him, 
 in his own fancy, also, settle how the soldier watched, 
 slept, dreamt, or waked through this interval. Rory did 
 not make his appearance, however ; he had left the public 
 on the preceding evening, having made every necessary 
 arrangement for carrying on the affair he had taken in 
 hand; so that the Englishman, on inquiry, found that 
 Rory had departed, being "obliged to lave the place 
 early on his own business, but sure his honour could have 
 any accommodation in life that he wanted, in the regard 
 of a guide, or the like o 1 that." 
 
 Now, for this, Rory had provided also, having arranged 
 with the keepers of the public, to whom he confided 
 every thing connected with the affair, that in case the 
 trooper should ask for a guide, they should recommend 
 him a certain young imp, the son of Rory's cousin, the 
 blacksmith, and one of the most mischievous, knowing, 
 and daring young vagabonds in the parish. 
 
 To such guidance, therefore, did the Englishman commit 
 himself on this, the third day of his search after the
 
 152 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 lands of the Peppers, which still remained a terra incognita 
 to him; and the boy, being previously tutored upon the 
 duties he was to perform in his new capacity, was not 
 one likely to enlighten him upon the subject. The system 
 of the preceding day was acted upon, except the casting 
 of the horse's shoe; but by-roads and crooked lanes 
 were put in requisition, and every avenue, but the one 
 really leading to his object, the trooper was made to 
 traverse. 
 
 The boy affected simplicity or ignorance, as best suited 
 his purposes, to escape any inconvenient interrogatory or 
 investigation on the part of the stranger, and, at last, 
 the young guide turned up a small rugged lane, down 
 whose gentle slope some water was slowly trickling amongst 
 stones and mud. On arriving at its extremity, he proceeded 
 to throw down some sods, and pull away some brambles, 
 that seemed to be placed there as an artificial barrier to 
 an extensive field that lay beyond the lane. 
 
 "What are you doing there?" said the soldier. 
 
 " Makin' a convenience for your honour to get through 
 the gap," said the boy. 
 
 "There is no road there," said the other. 
 
 " Oh no, plaze your honour,"" said the young rascal, looking 
 up in his face with an affection of simplicity that might 
 have deceived Machiavel himself. "It's not a road, sir, 
 but a short cut." 
 
 "Cut it as short then as you can, my boy," said the 
 soldier (the only good thing he ever said in his life),
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 153 
 
 " for your short cuts in this country are the longest I 
 ever knew I'd rather go a round." 
 
 "So we must go round, by the bottom o' this field, 
 sir, and then, over the hill beyant there, we come out 
 an the road."" 
 
 "Then there is a road beyond the hill?" 
 
 "A fine road, sir," said the boy, who, having cleared 
 a passage for the horseman, proceeded before him at a 
 smart run, and led him down the slope of the hill to a 
 small valley, intersected by a sluggish stream that lay 
 at its foot. When the boy arrived at this valley, he ran 
 briskly across it, though the water splashed up about his 
 feet at every bound he gave, and dashing on through 
 the stream, he arrived at the other side by the time the 
 trooper had reached the nearer one. Here, the latter 
 was obliged to pull up, for his horse, at the first step 
 sank so deep, that the animal instinctively withdrew his 
 foot from the treacherous morass. 
 
 The trooper called after his guide, who was proceeding 
 up the opposite acclivity, and the boy turned round. 
 
 "I can't pass this, boy," said the soldier. 
 
 The boy faced the hill again, without any reply, and 
 recommenced his ascent at a rapid pace. 
 
 " Come back, you young scoundrel ! or 111 shoot you," 
 said the soldier, drawing his pistol from his holster. The 
 boy still continued his flight, and the trooper fired but 
 ineffectually upon which the boy stopped, and after making 
 a contemptuous action at the Englishman, rushed up the
 
 154 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 acclivity and was soon beyond the reach of small arms, 
 and shortly after out of sight, having passed the summit 
 of the hill. 
 
 The Englishman's vexation was excessive, at finding 
 himself thus left in such a helpless situation. For a long 
 time he endeavoured to find a spot in the marsh he might 
 make his crossing good upon, but in vain, and after 
 nearly an hour spent in this useless endeavour, he was 
 forced to turn back and strive to unravel the maze of 
 twisting and twining through which he had been led, for 
 the purpose of getting on some highway, where a chance 
 passenger might direct him in finding his road. 
 
 This he failed to accomplish, and darkness at length 
 overtook him, in a wild country to which he was an 
 utter stranger. He still continued, however, cautiously to 
 progress along the road on which he was benighted, and 
 at length the twinkling of a distant light raised some 
 hope of succour in his heart. 
 
 Keeping this beacon in view, the benighted traveller 
 made his way, as well as hem ight, until, by favour of the 
 glimmer he so opportunely discovered, he, at last, found 
 himself in front of the house whence the light proceeded. 
 He knocked at the door, which, after two or three loud 
 summonses, was opened to him, and then, briefly stating 
 the distressing circumstances in which he was placed, he 
 requested shelter for the night. 
 
 The domestic who opened the door retired to deliver 
 the stranger's message to the owner of the house, who
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 155 
 
 immediately afterwards made his appearance, and, with a 
 reserved courtesy, invited the stranger to enter. 
 
 "Allow me first to see my horse stabled," said the 
 soldier. 
 
 "He shall be cared for," said the other. 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," returned the blunt Englishman, "if 
 I wish to see him in his stall. It has been a hard day 
 for the poor brute, and I fear one of his hoofs is much 
 injured; how far, I am anxious to see." 
 
 "As you please, sir," said the gentleman, who ordered 
 a menial to conduct the stranger to the stable. 
 
 There, by the light of a lantern, the soldier examined 
 the extent of injury his charger had sustained, and had 
 good reason to fear that the next day would find him 
 totally unserviceable. After venting many a hearty curse 
 on Irish roads and Irish guides, he was retiring from the 
 stable, when his attention was attracted by a superb 
 white horse, and much as he was engrossed by his present 
 annoyance, the noble proportions of the animal were too 
 striking to be overlooked ; after admiring all his points, 
 he said to the attendant, "What a beautiful creature 
 this is " 
 
 "Throth, you may say that," was the answer. 
 
 "What a charger he would make!" 
 
 "Sure enough." 
 
 " He must be very fleet." 
 
 "As the win 1 ." 
 
 "And leaps."
 
 156 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Whoo! over the moon, if you axed him.' 1 
 
 "That horse must trot at least ten miles the hour/ 1 
 
 "Tin! faix, it wouldn't be convaynient to him to throt 
 undher fourteen, 11 and with this assurance on the part 
 of the groom, they left the stable. 
 
 On being led into the dwelling-house, the stranger 
 found the table spread for supper, and the owner of the 
 mansion, pointing to a chair, invited him to partake of 
 the evening meal. 
 
 The reader need scarcely be told that the invitation 
 came from Gerald Pepper, for, I suppose, the white horse 
 in the stable has already explained whose house chance 
 had directed the trooper to, though all his endeavours 
 to find it had proved unavailing. 
 
 Gerald still maintained the bearing, which characterized 
 his first meeting with the Englishman on his threshold 
 it was that of reserved courtesy. Magdalene, his gentle 
 wife, was seated near the table, with an infant child 
 sleeping upon her lap ; her sweet features were strikingly 
 expressive of sadness; and as the stranger entered the 
 apartment, her eye was raised in one timorous glance 
 upon the man whose terrible mission she was too well 
 aware of, and the long lashes sank downwards again upon 
 the pale cheek, that recent sorrows had robbed of its bloom. 
 
 " Come sir, 11 said Gerald, " after such a day of fatigue 
 as yours has been, some refreshment will be welcome; 11 
 and the Englishman, presently,' by deeds, not words, 
 commenced giving ample evidence of the truth of the
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 157 
 
 observation. As the meal proceeded, he recounted some 
 of the mishaps that had befallen him, all of which Gerald 
 knew before, through Rory Oge, who was in the house 
 at that very moment, though, for obvious reasons, he 
 did not make his appearance, and, at last, the stranger 
 put the question to his host, if he knew any one in that 
 neighbourhood called Gerald Pepper. 
 
 Magdalene felt her blood run cold, but Gerald quietly 
 replied there was a person of that name thereabouts. 
 
 "Is his property a good one?" said the trooper. 
 
 "Very much reduced of late," said Gerald. 
 
 "Ballygarth they call it," said the soldier; "is that 
 far from here?" 
 
 " It would puzzle me to tell you how to go to it from 
 this place," was the answer. 
 
 " It is very provoking," said the trooper ; " I have been 
 looking for it these three days and cannot find it, and 
 nobody seems to know where it is." 
 
 Magdalene, at these words, felt a momentary relief, yet 
 still she scarcely dared to breathe. 
 
 "The truth is," continued the soldier, "that I am 
 entitled under the king's last commission to that property, 
 for all Pepper's possessions have been forfeited." 
 
 The baby, as it slept in its mother's lap, smiled as its 
 legalised despoiler uttered these last words, and poor 
 Magdalene, smote to the heart by the incident, melted 
 into tears; but, by a powerful effort, she repressed any 
 audible evidence of grief, and, shading her eyes with her
 
 158 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 hand, her tears dropped in silence over her sleeping 
 child. 
 
 Gerald observed her emotion, and found it difficult to 
 master his own feelings. 
 
 "Now it is rather hard," continued the soldier, "that 
 I have been hunting up and down the country for this 
 confounded place, and can't find it. I thought it a fine 
 thing, but I suppose it's nothing to talk of, or somebody 
 would know of it; and more provoking still, we soldiers 
 have yet our hands so full of work, that I only got four 
 days' leave, and to-morrow night I am bound to return 
 to Dublin, or I shall be guilty of a breach of duty ; and 
 how I am to return, with my horse in the disabled state 
 that this detestable country has left him, I cannot conceive." 11 
 
 " You will be hard run to accomplish it," said Gerald. 
 
 "Now, will you make a bargain with me?" said the 
 soldier. 
 
 " Of what nature ? " said Gerald. 
 
 " There " said the soldier, throwing down on the table 
 a piece of folded parchment, "there is the debenture 
 entitling the holder thereof to the property I have named. 
 Now, I must give up looking for it, for the present, and 
 I am tired of hunting after it, into the bargain ; besides 
 God knows when I may be able to come here again. 
 You are on the spot, and may make use of this instru- 
 ment, which empowers you to take full possession of the 
 property whatever it may be ; to you it may be valuable. 
 At a word then, if I give you this debenture, will you
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 159 
 
 give me the white horse that is standing in your stable? 11 
 
 Next to his wife and children, Gerald Pepper loved 
 his white horse ; and the favourite animal being so suddenly 
 and unexpectedly named startled him, and, strange as it 
 may appear, he paused for a moment; but Magdalene, 
 unseen by the soldier, behind whom she was seated, 
 clasped her outstretched hands in the action of suppli- 
 cation to her husband, and met his eye with an imploring 
 look that at once produced his answer. 
 
 " Agreed !" said Gerald. 
 
 u1 Tis a bargain, 11 said the soldier; and he tossed the 
 debenture across the table as the property of the man 
 whom it was intended to leave destitute. 
 
 Having thus put the man into possession of his own 
 property, the soldier commenced spending the night 
 pleasantly, and it need not be added that Gerald Pepper 
 was in excellent humour to help him. 
 
 As for poor Magdalene, when the bargain was com- 
 pleted, her heart was too full to permit her to remain 
 longer, and hurrying to the apartment where the elder 
 children were sleeping, she kissed them passionately, and, 
 throwing herself on her knees between their little beds, 
 wept profusely, as she offered the fervent outpourings of 
 a grateful heart to Heaven, for the ruin so wonderfully 
 averted from their innocent heads. 
 
 Stories must come to an end, like every thing else of 
 this world, and so my story is ended, as all stories should
 
 160 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 be, when there is no further vitality left in them : for 
 though some post mortem experiments are occasionally 
 made by those who expect, by a sort of galvanic influ- 
 ence, to persuade their readers that the subject is not 
 quite dead yet, the practice is so generally unsuccessful, 
 that I decline becoming an operator in that line ; there- 
 fore, let me hasten to my conclusion. 
 
 The next morning, the English soldier was in his saddle 
 at an early hour, and he seemed to entertain all the 
 satisfaction of an habitual horseman, in feeling the stately 
 tread of the bold steed beneath him. The white horse 
 champed his bit, and, by his occasional curvetings, 
 evinced a consciousness that his accustomed rider was not 
 on his back ; but the firm seat and masterly hand of the 
 soldier shortly reduced such slight marks of rebellion into 
 obedience, and he soon bade Gerald Pepper farewell. 
 
 The parting was rather brief and silent; for to have 
 been other, would not have accorded with the habits of 
 the one, nor suited the immediate humour of the other. 
 In answer to the spur of the soldier, the white horse 
 galloped down the avenue of his former master's domain, 
 and left behind him the fields in which he had been 
 bred. Gerald Pepper looked after his noble steed while 
 he remained within sight, and thought no one was witness 
 to the tear he dashed from his eye when he turned to 
 re-enter his house. But there were two who saw and 
 sympathised in the amiable weakness his gentle Magda- 
 lene and the faithful Rory Oge. The latter, springing
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS 161 
 
 from behind an angle of the house where he had stood 
 concealed, approached his foster-brother, and said 
 
 "Thrue for you, indeed, Masther Gerald, it is a pity, 
 so it is, and a murther intirely ; but sure there's no help 
 for it ; and though the white horse is a loss, there is no 
 denyin' it, yet, ""pon my conscience, I'm mighty proud 
 this blessed minit to see that fellow lavin the place ! " 
 
 Gerald Pepper entertained throughout his life an 
 affectionate remembrance of his gallant horse : even more, 
 the stall where he last stood, and the rack and manger, 
 where he had last fed under the roof of his master, were 
 held sacred, and were ordered to remain in the state the 
 favourite had left them; and to perpetuate to his de- 
 scendants the remembrance of the singular event that had 
 preserved to him his estate, the white horse was introduced 
 into his armorial bearings, and is, at this day, one ot the 
 heraldic distinctions of the family. S8 
 
 11
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I DO not mean to say that cursing is either moral or 
 polite, but I certainly do think that, if a man curse at 
 all, he has a right to curse after what fashion he chooses. 
 Now, I am not going to curse, or swear either, but I 
 am writing about the very superior curse, as above named, 
 and I have premised the foregoing conditions, seeing, that 
 entertaining such an opinion on the subject, no moralist 
 can find fault with me for the minor offence of introduc- 
 ing a curse to my own taste. Let not the polite world, 
 either, startle at the word, "Introduction." I do not 
 intend to force cursing into their notice or their company ; 
 I mean the word "introduction" purely in a literary 
 sense; and lastly, therefore, to the literary I would say 
 a few words on the matter. 
 
 There has been already known to the literary world, a 
 celebrated curse, called "The Curse of Kehama," and I 
 hope I may not be considered too presumptuous in the 
 intention of putting forward a curse to their notice, as 
 its "companion." Something of the sort, I think, has 
 been wanted, and should I win the distinction of being 
 considered the person who has supplied the deficiency, I 
 hope Doctor Southey will allow me the further happiness
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 163 
 
 of dedicating the story to him. There are sufficient 
 points of difference in the two curses to make a variety 
 for the reader's entertainment, and yet one point of 
 curious coincidence between them the drinking of a cup. 
 Now, as regards the variety, Kehama's curse was that 
 he could not die; while poor Kishogue's was that he 
 did. As to the coincidence, Kehama and Kishogue have 
 their interest materially involved in the drinking of a 
 cup; yet, in the very coincidence, there is a charming 
 want of similitude, for Kehama, in not having the cup 
 to drink, and Kishogue in having it to drink, and refusing 
 it, produce such different consequences, that it is like 
 the same note being sounded by two voices, whose qualities 
 are so unlike, that no one could believe the note to be 
 the same. But, lest I should anticipate my story, I will 
 close my observation on the rival merits of the two epics, 
 and request the reader, in pursuance of my desire of 
 being permitted to tell my story according to my own 
 fancy, to step in with me for a few minutes into the next 
 chapter, which is no genteeler place than a sheebeen house.
 
 THE SHEEBEEN HOUSE 
 
 A jug of punch, a jug of punch, 
 
 The tune he sung was a jug of punch. 
 
 OLD BALLAD. 
 
 I HAD been wandering over a wild district, and thought 
 myself fortunate, in default of better quarters, to alight 
 upon a sheebeen house, the auberge of Ireland. It had 
 been raining heavily, I was wet, and there was a good 
 turf fire to dry me. From many hours of exercise, I was 
 hungry; and there was a good rasher of bacon and a 
 fresh egg to satisfy the cravings of nature ; and to secure 
 me from cold, as a consequence of the soaking I had 
 experienced, there was a glass of pure "mountain dew 11 
 at my service so pure, that its rustic simplicity had 
 never been contaminated by such a worldly knowledge as 
 the king's duty. What more then might a reasonable 
 man want, than a sheebeen house, under such circumstances ? 
 
 Ah ! we who are used to the refinements of life, can 
 never imagine how very little may suffice, upon occasion, 
 to satisfy our natural wants, until we have been reduced 
 by circumstances to the knowledge. The earthen floor of 
 the sheebeen never for an instant suggested the want of a 
 carpet; the absence of a steel grate did not render the 
 genial heat of the blithely blazing fire less agreeable.
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 165 
 
 There was no vagrant hankering after a haunch of venison 
 as I despatched my rasher of bacon, which hunger rendered 
 so palatable; and I believe poteen, under the immediate 
 circumstances in which I was placed, was more acceptable 
 than the best flask of Chateau Margaux. 
 
 When I arrived at theho use, the appearance of a well- 
 dressed stranger seeking its hospitality created quite a 
 " sensation :" the bare-legged girl, who acted in the capacity 
 of waiter, was sent driving about in all directions; and 
 I could overhear the orders issued to her by "the misthriss" 
 from time to time, while I was drying myself before 
 the fire. 
 
 "Judy here, come here, Judy, I tell you. See!" 
 Then, in an under-tone, " Get ready the quol'ty s9 room ; 
 hurry it up soon." Then away trotted Judy ; but before 
 she had gone many steps there was another call. 
 
 "And, Judy!" 
 
 "Well, ma'am." 
 
 "Put a candle in the tin sconce." 
 
 "Sure Terry Regan has the sconce within there." 
 Pointing to an adjoining apartment where some peasants 
 were very busy in making merry. 
 
 " Well, no matther for that ; scoop out a pratee, 40 
 and that '11 do well enough for Terry sure he knows 
 no betther and take the sconce for the gintleman." 
 
 I interrupted her here, to beg she would not put her- 
 self to any inconvenience on my account, for I was very 
 comfortable where I was, before her good fire.
 
 166 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Oh, as for the fire, your honour, Judy shall put some 
 live turf 41 an the hearth, and you'll be as snug as you 
 plaze." 
 
 "Yes, but I should be very lonesome, sitting there all 
 night by myself, and I would much rather stay where I 
 am ; this fire is so pleasant, you'll hardly make another 
 as good to-night, and I like to see people about me." 
 
 " Indeed, an no wondher, sir, and that's thrue ; but I'm 
 afeard you'll find them men dhrinkin' within there, throuble- 
 some; they're laughin' like mad." 
 
 "So much the better," said I; "I like to see people 
 happy." 
 
 "Indeed and your honour's mighty agreeable ; but that's 
 always the way with a gintleman it makes no differ in 
 life to the rale quol'ty." 
 
 "Say no more about it," said I, "I beg of you; I 
 can enjoy myself here by this good fire, and never mind 
 the sconce, nor any thing else that might inconvenience 
 you ; but let me have the rasher as soon as you can, and 
 some more of that good stuff you have just given me, 
 to make some punch, and I will be as happy as a king." 
 
 "Throth then you're aisily satisfied, sir; but sure, as 
 I said before, a rale gintleman takes every thing as it 
 comes." 
 
 Accordingly, the rasher was dressed on the fire before 
 which I sat, and it was not long before I did honour to 
 the simple fare; and being supplied with the materials 
 for making punch, I became my own brewer on the occasion.
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 167 
 
 In the mean time, the mirth grew louder in the 
 adjoining compartment of the house; and Terry Regan, 
 before alluded to, seemed to be a capital master of the 
 revels; and while I enjoyed my own tipple beside the 
 lively fire, I had all the advantage of overhearing the 
 conversation of Terry and his party. This was of a very 
 motley description : the forthcoming sporting events on 
 a neighbouring race-course, the last execution at the county 
 jail and an approaching fair were matters of discussion 
 for some time; but these gave place, at last, to the 
 politics of the day. 
 
 It was the period when the final downfall of Napoleon 
 had created such a sensation, and it was a long time 
 before the peasantry of Ireland could believe that the 
 hero of France was so utterly discomfited. He had long 
 been a sort of idol to them, and the brilliancy of his 
 successes, for years, had led them into the belief that he 
 was invincible. There is, perhaps, in the lower orders in 
 general, a tendency to admire military heroes, but this 
 is peculiarly the case amongst the Irish, and Alexander 
 and Julius Caesar are names more familiar to them than 
 a stranger could well believe. But their love of Buona- 
 parte, and their exultation in his triumphs, had a deeper 
 motive than mere admiration of a warrior: what that 
 motive was, it would be foreign to my pages to touch 
 upon, therefore, let me resume. 
 
 The conversation amongst these peasant politicians turned 
 upon Buonaparte's imprisonment at St. Helena, and some
 
 168 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 of the party, unwilling to believe it, doubted the affair 
 altogether. 
 
 " By the powdhers o' war," said one, " I'll never b'lieve 
 that he's a presoner. Tut who could take him presoner ? 
 There's none o' them aiqual to it." 
 
 "Oh, I'm afeard it's too thrue it is," said another. 
 
 "An you b'lieve it then?" said a third. 
 
 " Faix I do. Sure Masther 42 Frank the captain, I 
 mane, said he seen him there himself." 
 
 " Tare-an-ouns, did he see him in aimest?" 
 
 "Sure enough, faith, with his own two eyes." 
 
 "And was he in chains, like a rale pres'ner?" 
 
 "Oh, no, man alive! sure they wouldn't go for to put a 
 chain an him, like any other housebraker, or the like o' that." 
 
 "Well, sure I heerd them makin' spaches about it at 
 the meetin' was beyant in the town last summer; and a 
 gintleman out o' Dublin, that kem down an purpose, 
 had the hoith o' fine language all about it ; and I remember 
 well he said these very words : ' They will never blot the 
 stain from their annuals ; 43 and when he dies it will be 
 a livin' disgrace to them : for what can he do but die, 
 says he, non compossed 44 as he is by the wide oceant, 
 chained, undher a burnin' climax 45 to that salutary 46 
 rock? Oh! think o' that!!' So you see he was chained, 
 accordin' to his account." 
 
 " But, Masther Frank, I tell you, says he seen him ; 
 and there's no chain an him at all ; but he says he is 
 there for sartin."
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 169 
 
 " Oh, murther, murther ! Well, if he's there, sure he's 
 a pres'ner, and that'll brake his heart. 11 
 
 " Oh, thine for you think o' Bonyparty bein' a pris'ner 
 like any other man, and him that was able to go over 
 the whole world wherever he plazed, being obleeged to 
 live an a rock." 
 
 "Aye," said the repeater of the "spache," "and the 
 villians to lave him under that burnin' climax. I wondher 
 what is it." 
 
 " I didn't hear Masther Frank say a word about that. 
 Oh, what will my poor Bony do at all at all!!" 
 
 " By dad, it is hard for to say." 
 
 " By gor ! " said Terry Regan, who had been hitherto 
 a silent listener, "I dunna what the divil he'll do wid 
 himself now, barrin' he takes to dhrink." 
 
 "Faix, an 1 there is great comfort in the sup, sure 
 enough," said one of his companions. 
 
 "To be sure there is," said Terry. " Mtisha, thin, 
 Phil," said he to one of the party, "give us 'The Jug 
 o' Punch,' the sorra betther song you have than that 
 same, and sure it's just the very thing that will be nate 
 and opprobrious 4; at this present, as they say in the 
 spaches at the char'ty dinners." 
 
 "Well, I'll do my endayvour, if it's plazin' to the 
 company," said Phil, 
 
 "That's your sort," said Terry. "Rise it ! your sowl ! " 
 
 Phil then proceeded to sing, after some preliminary 
 hums and hahs and coughing to clear his voice, the
 
 170 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 following old ballad; the burden of which I have chosen 
 as the epigraph of this chapter. 
 
 THE JUG OF PUNCH 
 
 Moderate. 
 
 
 
 tx 
 
 I was sit ting in my room, One 
 
 As 
 
 pleasant evening in the month of June, I heard a thrush singing 
 
 y v 
 
 -'t 
 
 1 
 
 in a bush, And the tune he sung was a jug o' punch, 
 
 
 Too ra loo! too ra loo! too ra loo! 
 
 
 y 1 
 
 
 too ra loo ! a jug o' punch, a jug o' punch, The 
 
 ==*=*= 
 
 i U 
 
 V 
 
 tune he sung was a jug o' punch.
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 171 
 
 What more divarshin might a man desire 
 Than to be sated by a nate turf fire, 
 And by his side a purty wench, 
 And on the table a jug o' punch? 
 Toor a loo, &c. 
 
 The Muses twelve and Apollio famed, 
 In Castilian pride dhrinks pernicious 48 sthrames; 
 But I would not grudge them tin times as much, 
 As long as I had a jug o' punch. 
 Toor a loo, &c. 
 
 Then the mortial gods dhrinks their necthar wine, 
 And they tell me claret is veiy fine ; 
 But I'd give them all, just in a bunch, 
 For one jolly pull at a jug o' punch. 
 Toor a loo, &c. 
 
 The docthor fails with all his art, 
 To cure an imprission an the heart ; 
 But if life was gone within an inch 
 What would bring it back like a jug o' punch? 
 Toor a loo, &c. 
 
 But when I am dead and in my grave, 
 No costly tomb-stone will I crave ; 
 But I'll dig a grave both wide and deep, 
 With a jug o' punch at my head and feet. 
 
 Toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, fol lol dhe roll ; 
 
 A jug o' punch! a jug o' punch!! 
 Oh! more power to your elbow, my jug o' punch!!! 
 
 Most uproarious applause followed this brilliant lyric, 
 and the thumping of fists and pewter pots on the table, 
 testified the admiration the company entertained of their 
 minstrel.
 
 172 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "My sowl, Phil!" said Terry Regan, "it's betther and 
 betther you're growing, every night I hear you; the real 
 choice sperit is in you that improves with age." 
 
 "Faith, an 1 there's no choicer sper't than this same 
 Mrs. Muldoody has in her house," said one of the party, 
 on whom the liquor had begun to operate, and who did 
 not take Terry Regan's allusion. 
 
 " Well, fill your glass again with it," said Terry, doing 
 the honours, and then, resuming the conversation, and 
 addressing Phil, he said, "Why then, Phil, you have a 
 terrible fine voice." 
 
 "Troth an 1 you have, Phil," said another of the party, 
 "it's a pity your mother hadn't more of yez, oh! that 
 I may see the woman that desarves you, and that I may 
 dance at your weddin'!" 
 
 "Faix, an' I'd rather sing at my own wake," said Phil. 
 
 " Och that you may be able," said Terry Regan, " but 
 I'm afeard there'll be a man hanged the day you die." 
 
 "Pray for yourself, Terry, if you plaze," said Phil. 
 
 "Well, sing us another song then." 
 
 "Not a one more I remimber," said Phil. 
 
 "Remimber!" said Terry, "bad cess to me, but you 
 know more songs than would make the fortune of a 
 ballad-singer." 
 
 " Throth I can't think of one," 
 
 " Ah, don't think at all, man, but let the song out of 
 you, sure it'll come of itself if you're willin'." 
 
 "Bad cess to me if I remimber one."
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 173 
 
 "Oh, Til jog your mimory," said Terry; "sing us the 
 song you deludhered owld Rooney's daughter with." 
 
 "What's that?" said Phil. 
 
 "Oh, you purtind not to know, you desaiver." 
 
 "Throth an' I don't," said Phil. 
 
 "Why, bad fortune to you, you know it well sure 
 the poor girl was never the same since she heerd it, you 
 kem over her so, with the tindherness." 
 
 "Well, what was it, can't you tell me?" 
 
 "It was 'The Pig that was in Aughrim.'" 
 
 " Oh that's a beautiful song, sure enough, and it's too 
 thrue it is. Oh them vagabone staymers that's goin' 
 evermore to England, the divil a pig they'll lave in the 
 counthry at all." 
 
 "Faix, I'm afeard so but that's no rule why you 
 should not sing the song. Out with it, Phil, my boy." 
 
 " Well, here goes," said Phil, and he commenced singing 
 in a most doleful strain, the following ballad : 
 
 THE PIG THAT WAS IN AUGHRIM 
 
 The pig that was in Aughrim was dhruv to foreign parts, 
 And when he was goin' an the road it brauk the owld 
 
 sow's heart. 
 "Oh," says she, "my counthry's ruin'd and desarted now 
 
 by all, 
 
 And the rise of pigs in England will insure the counthry's fall. 
 For the landlords and the pigs are all goin' hand in hand 
 
 "Oh stop, Phil, jewel," said the fellow who had been 
 doing so much honour to Mrs. Muldoody's liquor " Stop,
 
 174 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 Phil, my darlin!" and here he began to cry in a fit of 
 drunken tenderness. "Oh! stop, Phil that's too much 
 for me oh, I can't stand it at all. Murther, murther, 
 but it's heart-breakin', so it is." 
 
 After some trouble on the part of his companions, this 
 tender-hearted youth was reconciled to hearing "The 
 Pig that was in Aughrim" concluded, though I would 
 not vouch for so much on the part of my readers, and 
 therefore I will quote no more of it. But he was not 
 the only person who began to be influenced by the potent 
 beverage that had been circulating, and the party became 
 louder in their mirth and more diffuse in their conver- 
 sation, which, occasionally was conducted on that good 
 old plan of a Dutch concert, where every man plays his 
 own tune. At last, one of the revellers, who had just 
 sufficient sense left to know it was time to go, yet not 
 sufficient resolution to put his notion in practice, got up 
 and said, "Good-night, boys." 
 
 "Who's that say in' good night?" called out Terry 
 Regan, in a tone of indignation. 
 
 "Oh it's only me, and it's time for me to go, you 
 know yourself, Terry," said the deserter "and the wife 
 will be as mad as a hatter if I stay out longer." 
 
 " By the powers o' Moll Kelly, if you had three wives 
 you mustn't go yet," said the president. 
 
 "By dad I must, Terry." 
 
 "Ah then, why?" 
 
 "Bekase I must.'
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 175 
 
 " That's so good a raison, Barny, that 111 say no more 
 only, mark my words : you'll be sorry. 11 
 
 "Will be sorry, 11 said Barny. "Faix, an 1 ifs sorry 
 enough I am and small blame to me ; for the company's 
 pleasant and the dhrink's good." 
 
 "And why won't you stay then? 11 
 
 "Bekase I must go, as I towld you before. 11 
 
 "Well, be off wid you at wanst, and don't be spylin 
 good company if you won't stay. Be off wid you, I tell 
 you, and don't be standin' there with your hat in your 
 hand like an ass betune two bundles o' hay, as you are, 
 but go if you're goin' and the Curse o' Kishogue an you f 
 
 "Well, good night, boys, 11 said the departing reveller. 
 
 " Faix, you shall have no good night from uz. You're 
 a bad fellow, Barny Corrigan so the Curse o' Kishogue 
 an you ! " 
 
 "Oh, tare an ouns, 11 said Barny, pausing at the door, 
 "don't put the curse an a man that is goin 1 the road, 
 and has to pass by the rath 49 more betoken, and no 
 knowin' where the fairies would be." 
 
 " Throth, then, and I will," said Terry Regan, increasing 
 in energy, as he saw Barny was irresolute " and may the 
 Curse o' Kishogue light on you again and again ! " 
 
 " Oh, do you hear this ! ! ! " exclaimed Barny, in a most 
 comical state of distress. 
 
 " Aye ! 11 shouted the whole party, almost at a breath ; 
 "the Curse o 1 Kishogue an you and your health to 
 wear it !"
 
 176 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Why, then, what the dickens do you mane by that 
 curse?" said Barny. "I thought I knew all the curses 
 out, but I never heerd of the Curse o' Kishogue before. 1 ' 
 
 "Oh you poor ignorant craythur," said Terry, "where 
 were you born and bred at all at all? Oh signs on it, 
 you were always in a hurry to brake up good company, 
 or it's not askin' you'd be for the maynin' of the Curse 
 o' Kishogue." 
 
 " Why then, what does it mane ? " said Barny, thoroughly 
 posed. 
 
 " Pull off your caubeen and sit down forninst me there, 
 and tackle to the dhrink like a man, and it is I that 
 will enlighten your benighted undherstandin', and a 
 beautiful warnin' it will be to you all the days o' your 
 life, and all snakin' chaps like you, that would be in a 
 hurry to take to the road and lave a snug house like 
 this, while there was the froth on the pot or the bead 
 an the naggin." 
 
 So Barny sat down again, amidst the shouts and laughter 
 of his companions, and after the liquor had passed merrily 
 round the table for some time, Terry, in accordance with 
 his promise, commenced his explanation of the malediction 
 that had brought Barny Corrigan back to his seat; but 
 before he began, he filled a fresh glass, and, profiting by 
 the example, I will open a fresh chapter.
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 
 
 " Ireland is the only country in the world where they would 
 make a comedy out of such a d n ble tragedy." 
 
 REMARK OF A LATE JUDICIOUS AND JUDICIAL FRIEND. 
 
 You see there was wanst a mighty dacent boy, called 
 Kishogue and not a complater chap was in the siven 
 parishes nor himself and for dhrinkin' or coortin 1 (and 
 by the same token he was a darlint among the girls, he 
 was so bowld), or cudgellin', or runnin', or wrastlin', or 
 the like o' that, none could come near him; and at 
 patthern, or fair, or the dance, or the wake, Kishogue 
 was the flower o' the flock. 
 
 Well, to be sure, the gintlemen iv the counthry did 
 not belove him so well as his own sort that is the 
 eldherly gintlemen, for as to the young 'squires, by gor 
 they loved him like one of themselves, and betther a'most, 
 for they knew well that Kishogue was the boy to put 
 them up to all sorts and sizes of divilment and divarshin, 
 and that was all they wanted but the owld, studdy gin- 
 tlemen the responsible people like, didn't give in to his 
 ways at all and, in throth, they used to be thinkin 1 that 
 if Kishogue was out of the counthry, body and bones, that 
 the counthry would not be the worse iv it, in the laste, 
 and that the deer, and the hares, and the pattheridges 
 n. 12
 
 178 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 wouldn't be scarcer in the laste, and that the throut and 
 the salmon would lade an aisier life : but they could 
 get no howlt of him good or bad, for he was as 'cute as 
 a fox, and there was no sitch thing as getting him at an 
 amplush 50 at all, for he was like a weasel, a'most asleep 
 wid his eyes open. 
 
 Well ; that's the way it was for many a long day, and 
 Kishogue was as happy as the day was long, antil, as 
 bad luck id have it, he made a mistake one night, as 
 the story goes, and by dad how he could make the same 
 mistake was never cleared up yet, barrin' that the night 
 was dark, or that Kishogue had a dhrop o' dhrink in; 
 but the mistake was made, and this was the mistake, you 
 see ; that he consaived he seen his own mare threspassin ' 
 an the man's field, by the road side, and so, with that, 
 he cotched the mare that is, the mare, to all appearance, 
 but it was not his own mare, but the squire's horse, 
 which he tuk for his own mare, all in a mistake, and 
 he thought that she had sthrayed away, and not likin' 
 to see his baste threspassin' an another man's field, what 
 does he do, but he dhrives home the horse in a mistake, 
 you see, and how he could do the like is hard to say, 
 excep'n that the night was dark, as I said before, or that 
 he had a dhrop too much in : but, howsomever the mis- 
 take was made, and a sore mistake it was for poor 
 Kishogue, for he never persaived it at all, antil three 
 days afther, when the polisman kem to him and towld 
 him he should go along with him.
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 179 
 
 "For what?" says Kishogue. 
 
 "Oh, you're mighty innocent," says the polisman. 
 
 "Thrue for you, sir," says Kishogue, as quite as a 
 child. "And where are you goin' to take me, may I 
 make bowld to ax, sir?" says he. 
 
 " To jail," says the Peeler. " 
 
 "For what?" says Kishogue. 
 
 "For stalin' the squire's horse," says the Peeler. 
 
 " It's the first I heerd of it," says Kishogue. 
 
 "Throth then, 'twon't be the last you'll hear of it," 
 says the other. 
 
 "Why, tare an ouns, sure it's no housebrakin' for a 
 man to dhrive home his own mare," says Kishogue. 
 
 "No," says the Peeler, "but it is burglaarious to 
 sarcumvint another man's horse," says he. 
 
 "But supposin' 'twas a mistake?" says Kishogue. 
 
 "By gor it 'ill be the dear mistake to you," says the 
 polisman. 
 
 "That's a poor case," says Kishogue. 
 
 But there was no use in talkin ' he migh tas well have 
 been whistlin' jigs to a mile-stone as sthrivin' to invaigle 
 the polisman, and the ind of it was, that he was obleeged 
 to march off to jail, and there he lay in lavendher, like 
 Paddy Ward's pig, antil the ' sizes kem an, and Kishogue, 
 you see, bein' of a high sperrit, did not like the iday 
 at all of bein' undher a complimint to the King for his 
 lodgin'. Besides, to a chap like him, that was used all 
 his life to goin ' round the world for sport, the thoughts
 
 180 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 o' confinement was altogether contagious, though indeed 
 his friends endayvoured for to make it as agreeable as 
 they could to him, for he was mightily beloved in the 
 counthry, and they wor goin' to see him mornin', noon 
 and night throth, they led the turnkey a busy life, 
 lettin' them in and out, for they wor comin' and goin' 
 evermore, like Mulligan's blanket. 
 
 Well, at last the 'sizes kem an, and down kem the 
 sheriffs, and the judge, and the jury, and the witnesses, 
 all book-sworn to tell nothin' but the born thruth : and 
 with that, Kishogue was the first that was put an his 
 thrial, for not knowin' the differ betune his own mare 
 and another man's horse, for they wished to give an example 
 to the counthry, and he was bid to howld up his hand 
 at the bar (and a fine big fist he had of his own, by the 
 same token), and up he held it no ways danted, at all, 
 but as bowld as a ram. Well, then, a chap in a black 
 coat and a frizzled wig and spectacles gets up, and he 
 reads and reads, that you'd think he'd never have done 
 readin'; and it was all about Kishogue as we heerd 
 afther but could not make out at the time and no 
 wondher : and in throth, Kishogue never done the half of 
 what the dirty little ottomy 52 was readin' about him 
 barrin' he knew lies iv him ; and Kishogue himsel, poor 
 fellow, got frekened at last, when he heerd him goin' an at 
 that rate about him, but afther a bit, he tuk heart and said : 
 
 "By this and by that, I never done the half o' that, 
 anyhow."
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 181 
 
 "Silence in the coort!!!" says the crier puttin' him 
 down that-a-way. Oh there's no justice for a poor boy 
 at all ! 
 
 "Oh murther," says Kishogue, "is a man's life to be 
 swore away afther this manner, and mustn't spake a word ? " 
 
 "Howl 1 your tongue!" says my lord the judge. And 
 so afther some more jabberin' and gibberish, the little 
 man in the spectacles threwn down the paper and asked 
 Kishogue if he was guilty or not guilty. 
 
 "I never done it, my lord," says Kishogue. 
 
 "Answer as you are bid, sir," says the spectacle man. 
 
 "I'm innocent, my lord!" says Kishogue. 
 
 "Bad cess to you, can't you say what you're bid," 
 says my lord the judge; "Guilty or not guilty." 
 
 "Not guilty," says Kishogue. 
 
 "I don't believe you," says the judge. 
 
 " Small blame to you," says Kishogue ; " you're ped for 
 hangin' people, and you must do something for your wages." 
 
 "You've too much prate, sir," says my lord. 
 
 " Faix then, I'm thin kin* it's yourself and your friend 
 the hangman will cure me o' that very soon," says Kishogue. 
 
 And thrue for him, faith, he wasn't far out in sayin' 
 that same, for they murthered him intirely. They brought 
 a terrible sight o' witnesses agin him, that swore away 
 his life an the cross-examination ; and indeed, sure enough, 
 it was the crossest examination altogether I ever seen. 
 Oh they wor the bowld witnesses, that would sware a 
 hole in an iron pot any day in the year. Not but that
 
 182 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 Kishogue's friends done their duty by him. Oh they stud 
 to him like men and swore a power for him, and sthrove 
 to make out a lullaby M for him ; maynin', by that same, 
 that he was asleep in another place, at the time; but 
 it wouldn't do, they could not make it plazin' to the 
 judge and the jury, and my poor Kishogue was condimned 
 for to die ; and the judge put an his black cap, and indeed 
 that's not becomin', and discoorsed the hoighth of fine 
 language, and gev Kishogue a power o' good advice, that 
 it was mortyal pity Kishogue didn't get sooner ; and the 
 last words the judge said was, "The Lord have marcy 
 an your sowl ! " 
 
 "Thank'ee, my lord," says Kishogue; "though indeed 
 it is few has luck or grace afther your prayers." 
 
 And sure enough, faith ; for the next Sathurday Kishogue 
 was ordhered out to be hanged, and the sthreets through 
 which he was to pass was mighty throng; for in them 
 days, you see, the people used to be hanged outside o' 
 the town, not all as one as now when we're hanged genteely 
 out o' the front o' the jail; but in them days they did 
 not attind to the comforts o' the people at all, but put 
 them into a cart, all as one a conthrairy pig goin' to 
 market, and stravaiged them through the town to the 
 gallows, that was full half a mile beyant it; but, to 
 be sure, whin they kem to the corner of the crass streets, 
 where the Widdy Houlaghan's public-house was then, 
 afore them dirty swaddlers " knocked it down and built 
 a meetin'-house there, bad cess to them, sure they're spylin'
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 183 
 
 divarshin wherever they go, when they kern there, as I 
 was tellin' you, the purcesshin was always stopped, and 
 they had a fiddler and mulled wine for the divarshin of 
 the pres'ner, for to rise his heart for what he was to go 
 through; for, by all accounts, it is not plazin' to be 
 goin' to be hanged, supposin' you die in a good cause 
 itself, as my uncle Jim towld me whin he suffer'd for 
 killin' the ganger. Well, you see, they always stopped 
 tin minutes at the public-house, not to hurry a man with 
 his dhrink, and, besides, to give the pres'ner an opportun- 
 ity for savin' an odd word or so to a frind in the crowd, 
 to say nothin' of its bein' mighty improviri 1 to the throng, 
 to see the man look in' pale at the thoughts o' death, 
 and maybe an idification and a warnin' to thim that was 
 inclined to sthray. But, however, it happened, and the 
 like never happened afore nor sence ; but, as bad luck 
 would have it, that day, the divil a fiddler was there 
 whin Kishogue dhruv up in the cart, no ways dan ted at 
 all ; but the minit the cart stopped rowlin' he called out 
 as stout as a ram, " Sind me out Tim Riley here," Tim 
 Riley was the fiddler's name, " sind me out Tim Riley 
 here," says he, "that he may rise my heart wid 'The 
 Rakes o' Mallow";" for he was a Mallow man, by all 
 accounts, and mighty proud of his town. Well, av coorse 
 the tune was not to be had, bekase Tim Riley was not 
 there, but was lyin' dhrunk in a ditch at the time; and 
 when poor Kishogue heerd that he could not have his 
 favorite tune, it wint to his heart to that degree, that
 
 184 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 he'd hear of no comfort in life, and he bid them dhrive 
 him an, and put him out o' pain at wanst. 
 
 "Oh take the dhrink anyhow, aroon" says the Widdy 
 Houlaghan, who was mighty tindher-hearted, and always 
 attinded the man that was goin' to be hanged with the 
 dhrink herself, if he was ever so grate a sthranger; but 
 if he was a frind of her own, she'd go every fut to the 
 gallows wid him and see him suffer : Oh she was a darlint ! 
 Well, "Take the dhrink, Kishogue my jewel," says she, 
 handin' him up a brave big mug o' mulled wine, fit for 
 a lord, but he wouldn't touch it ; " Take it out o' my 
 sight," says he, "for my heart is low bekase Tim Riley 
 desaived me, whin I expected to die game, like one of 
 the Rakes o' Mallow! Take it out o' my sight," says he, 
 puttin' it away wid his hand, and sure 'twas the first 
 time Kishogue was ever known to refuse the dhrop o' 
 dhrink, and many remarked that it was the change before 
 death was comin' over him. 
 
 Well, away they rowled to the gallows, where there 
 was no delay in life for the pres'ner, and the sheriff asked 
 him if he had anything to say to him before he suffered ; 
 but Kishogue hadn't a word to throw to a dog, and av 
 coorse he said nothin' to the sheriff, and wouldn't say a 
 word that might be improving even to the crowd, by way 
 of an idification; and indeed a sore disappointment it 
 was to the throng, for they thought he would make an 
 iligant dyin' speech ; and the prenthers there, and the 
 ballad-singers, all ready for to take it down complate,
 
 THE CURSE OF KISHOGUE 185 
 
 and thought it was a dirty turn of Kishogue to chate 
 them out o' their honest penny, like ; but they owed him 
 no spite, for all that, for they considhered his heart was 
 low an account of the disappointment, and he was look in 1 
 mighty pale while they wor makin' matthers tidy for him ; 
 and, indeed, the last words he said himself was, "Put 
 me out o' pain at wanst, for my heart is low bekase Tim 
 Riley desaived me, whin I thought he would rise it, that 
 I might die like a rale Rake o' Mallow!" And so, to 
 make a long story short, my jew'l, they done the business 
 for him: it was soon over wid him; it was just one step 
 wid him, aff o' the laddher into glory; and to do him 
 justice, though he was lookin' pale, he died bo wid, and 
 put his best leg foremost. 
 
 Well, what would you think, but just as all was over 
 wid him, there was a shout outside o' the crowd, and a 
 shilloo that you'd think would split the sky; and what 
 should we see gallopin' up to the gallows, but a man covered 
 with dust an a white horse, to all appearance, but it 
 wasn't a white horse, but a black horse, only white wid 
 the foam. He was dhruv to that degree, and the man 
 hadn't a breath to dhraw, and couldn't spake, but dhrew 
 a piece o' paper out of the breast of his coat and handed 
 it up to the sheriff; and, my jew'l, the sheriff grewn as 
 white as the paper itself, when he clapt his eyes an it; 
 and, says he, "Cut him down cut him down this minute ! !" 
 says he ; and the dhragoons made a slash at the messenger, 
 but he ducked his head and sarcumvinted them. And
 
 186 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 then the sheriff shouted out, "Stop, you villians, and 
 bad luck to yiz, you murtherin' vagabones," says he to 
 the sojers; "is it goin' to murther the man you wor? 
 It isn't him at all I mane, but the man that's hangin'. 
 Cut him down," says he : and they cut him down ; but 
 it was no use. It was all over wid poor Kishogue; he 
 was as dead as small-beer, and as stiff as a crutch. 
 
 "Oh, tare an ouns," says the sheriff, tarin' the hair 
 aff his head at the same time, with the fair rage, " Isn't 
 it a poor case that he's dead, and here is a reprieve that 
 is come for him ; but, bad cess to him," says he, " it's 
 his own fault, he wouldn't take it aisy." 
 
 "Oh millia murther, millia murther /" cried out the 
 Widdy Houlaghan, in the crowd. "Oh, Kishogue, my 
 darlint, why did you refuse my mull'd wine? Oh, if you 
 stopped wid me to take your dhrop o' dhrink, you'd be 
 alive and merry now!" 
 
 So that is the maynin' of the Curse o' Kishogue; for, 
 you see, Kishogue was hanged for lavin' his liquor behind him.
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 
 
 He got a halfpenny but it was a rap. 
 
 Riddle me, riddle me, riddle me right ; 
 Tell me, what I dreamt last night. 
 
 "FINDING a fortune"" is a phrase often heard amongst 
 the peasantry of Ireland. If any man from small begin- 
 nings arrives at wealth, in a reasonable course of time, 
 the fact is scarcely ever considered as the result of per- 
 severance, superior intelligence, or industry; it passes as 
 a by- word through the country that "he found a forchin;" 
 whether by digging up a "crock o 1 goold" in the ruins 
 of an old abbey, or by catching a Leprechaun 50 and 
 forcing him to "deliver or die," or discovering it behind 
 an old wainscot, is quite immaterial : the when or the 
 where is equally unimportant, and the thousand are satis- 
 fied with the rumour, "He found a forchinV Besides, 
 going into particulars destroys romance, and the Irish 
 are essentially romantic, and their love of wonder is 
 more gratified in considering the change from poverty to 
 wealth as the result of superhuman aid, than in attri- 
 buting it to the mere mortal causes of industry and 
 prudence. 
 
 The crone of every village has plenty of stories of how
 
 188 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 fortunes have been arrived at by extraordinary short cuts ; 
 and as it has been laid down as an axiom, "that there 
 never was a fool who had not a greater fool to admire 
 him,"" so there never was any old woman who told such 
 stories without plenty of listeners. 
 
 Now Darby Kelleher was one of the latter class, and 
 there was a certain collioch who was an extensive dealer 
 in the marvellous, and could supply, " wholesale, retail, and 
 for exportation," any customer such as Darby Kelleher, 
 who not only was a devoted listener, but also made an 
 occasional offering at the cave of the sibyl, in return for 
 her oracular communications. This tribute generally was 
 tobacco, as the collioch was partial to chewing the weed; 
 and thus, Darby returned a quid pro quo, without having 
 any idea that he was giving a practical instance of the 
 foregoing well-known pun. 
 
 Another constant attendant at the hut of the hag, 
 was Oonah Lenehan, equally prone to the marvellous 
 with Darby Kelleher, and quite his equal in idleness. A 
 day never passed without Darby and Oonah paying the 
 old woman a visit. She was sure to be "at home," for 
 age and decrepitude rendered it impossible for her to be 
 otherwise, the utmost limit of her ramble from her own 
 chimney corner being the seat of sods outside the door 
 of her hut, where, in the summer time, she was to be 
 found, so soon as the sunbeams fell on the front of her 
 abode, and made the seat habitable for one whose accus- 
 tomed vicinity to the fire, rendered heat indispensable
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 189 
 
 to comfort. Here she would sit and rock herself to and 
 fro in the hot noons of July and August, her own 
 appearance and that of her wretched cabin being in 
 admirable keeping. To a fanciful beholder the question 
 might have suggested itself, whether the hag was made 
 for the hovel, or it for her; or whether they had grown 
 into a likeness of one another, as man and wife are said 
 to do, for there were many points of resemblance between 
 them. The tattered thatch of the hut was like the 
 straggling hair of its mistress, and Time that had grizzled 
 the latter, had covered the former with gray lichens. 
 To its mud walls, a strong likeness was to be found in 
 the tint of the old woman's shrivelled skin; they were 
 both seriously out of the perpendicular; and the rude 
 mud and wicker chimney of the edifice having toppled 
 over the gable, stuck out, something in the fashion of 
 the doodeen or short pipe that projected from the old 
 woman's upper story ; and so they both were smoking 
 away from morning till night; and to complete the 
 similitude sadly, both were poor, both lonely, both 
 fast falling to decay. 
 
 Here were Darby Kelleher and Oonnah Lenehan sure to 
 meet every day. Darby might make his appearance thus : 
 
 " Good-morrow kindly, granny. 11 
 
 "The same to you, avic? mumbled out the crone. 
 
 "Here's some 'baccy for you, granny." 
 
 " Many thanks to you, Darby. I didn't lay it out for 
 seeing you so airly, the day."
 
 190 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " No, nor you wouldn't neither, only I was passin ' this 
 a way, runnin' an arrand for the squire, and I thought 
 I might as well step in and ax you how you wor." 
 
 "Good boy, Darby." 
 
 "Throth an 1 it's a hot day that's in it, this blessed 
 day. Phew! Faix it's out o' breath I am, and mighty 
 hot intirely; for I was runnin' a'most half the way, 
 bekase it's an arrand you see, and the squire towld me 
 to make haste, and so I did, and wint acrass the fields 
 by the short cut; and as I was passin 1 by the owld 
 castle, I remimbered what you towld me a while agon, 
 granny, about the crock o ' goold that is there for sartin, 
 if any one could come upon it." 
 
 " An 1 that's thrue indeed, Darby, avic and never heerd 
 any other the longest day I can remember." 
 
 "Well, well! think o' that!! Oh then it's he that'll 
 be the lucky fellow that finds it." 
 
 "Thrue for you, Darby; but that won't be antil it is 
 laid out for some one to rise it." 
 
 " Sure that's what I say to myself often ; and why 
 mightn't it be my chance to be the man that it was 
 laid out for to find it." 
 
 " There's no knowin'," mumbled the crone, mysteriously, 
 as she shook the ashes out of her tobacco pipe, and 
 replenished the doodeen with some of the fresh stock 
 Darby had presented. 
 
 "Faix, an' that's thrue, sure enough. Oh but you've 
 a power o' knowledge, granny!! Sure enough indeed,
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 191 
 
 there's no knowin'; but they say there's great vartue in 
 dhrames." 
 
 "That's ondeniable, Darby," said the hag, "and by 
 the same token may be you'd step into the house and 
 bring me out a bit o' 'live turf' 7 to light my pipe." 
 
 " To be sure, granny," and away went Darby to execute 
 the commission. 
 
 While he was raking from amongst the embers on the 
 hearth, a piece of turf sufficiently " alive " for the purpose, 
 Oonah made her appearance outside the hut, and gave 
 the usual cordial salutation to the old woman; just as 
 she had done her civility, out came Darby, holding the 
 bit of turf between the two extremities of an osier twig, 
 bent double for the purpose of forming a rustic tongs. 
 " Musha an' is that you, Darby?" said Oonah. 
 "Who else would it be?" said Darby. 
 "Why, you towld me over an hour agon, down there 
 in the big field, that you wor in a hurry." 
 
 " And so I am in a hurry, and wouldn't be here, only 
 I jist stepped in to say God save you to the mother 
 here, and to light her pipe for her, the craythur." 
 
 " Well, don't be standin ' there, lettin the coal go black 
 out, Darby," said the old woman ; " but let me light my 
 pipe at wanst." 
 
 "To be sure, granny," said Darby, applying the morsel 
 of lighted ember to the bowl of her pipe, until the process 
 of ignition had been effected. "And now, Oonah, my 
 darlint, if you're so sharp an other people, what the dickens
 
 192 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 brings you here, when it is mindin' the geese in the stubbles 
 you ought to be, and not here ? What would the misthriss 
 say to that, I wondher?"" 
 
 " Oh I left them safe enough, and they're able to take 
 care of themselves for a bit, and I wanted to ax the 
 granny about a drame I had." 
 
 "Sure so do I," said Darby; "and you know 'first come 
 first sarved ' is a good owld sayin'. And so, granny, you 
 own to it that there's a power o' vartue in dhrames." 
 
 A long-drawn whiff of the pipe was all the hag vouchsafed 
 in return. 
 
 " Oh then but that's the iligant tabaccy ! musha but 
 it's fine and sthrong, and takes the breath from one 
 a'most, it's so good. Long life to you, Darby paugh ! ! " 
 
 "You're kindly welkim, granny. An' as I was sayin' 
 about the dhrames you say there's a power o' vartue in 
 them." 
 
 "Who says agin it?" said the hag authoritatively, and 
 looking with severity on Darby. 
 
 " Sure an' it's not me you'd suspect o' the like ? I was 
 only goin' to say that myself had a mighty sharp dhrame 
 last night, and sure I kem to ax you about the maynin av it." 
 
 " Well, avic, tell us your dhrame," said the hag, sucking 
 her pipe with increased energy. 
 
 "Well, you see," said Darby, "I dhremt I was goin' 
 along a road, and that all of a suddint I kem to crass 
 roads, and you know there's grate vartue in crass roads." 
 
 "That's thrue, avourneenl paugh!! go an."
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 193 
 
 "Well, as I was sayin', I kem to crass roads, and 
 soon afther I seen four walls; now I think the four walls 
 manes the owld castle.' 1 
 
 "Likely enough, avk" 
 
 "Oh," said Oonah, who was listening with her mouth 
 as wide open as if the faculty of hearing lay there, instead 
 of in her ears, " sure you know the owld castle has only 
 three walls, and how could that be it?" 
 
 "No matther for that," said the crone, "it ought to 
 have four, and that's the same thing." 
 
 "Well, well! I never thought o' that," said Oonah, 
 lifting her hands in wonder; "sure enough so it ought!" 
 
 "Go an, Darby," said the hag. 
 
 "Well, I thought the gratest sight o' crows ever I 
 seen flew out o' the castle, and I think that must mane 
 the goold there is in it." 
 
 "Did you count how many there was?" said the hag, 
 with great solemnity. 
 
 "Faith, I never thought o' that," said Darby, with 
 an air of vexation. 
 
 "Could you tell me, itself, wor they odd or even, airic?" 
 
 "Faix, an' I could not say for sartin." 
 
 "Ah, that's it!!" said the crone, shaking her head in 
 token of disappointment. " How can I tell the maynin' o' 
 your dhrarae, if you don't know how it kem out exactly ? " 
 
 "Well, granny, but don't you think the crows was 
 likely for goold?" 
 
 "Yis if they flew heavy." 
 
 n. 13
 
 194 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Throth then, an 1 now I remimber they did fly heavy, 
 and I said to myself there would be rain soon, the crows 
 was flyin' so heavy. 1 " 
 
 "I wish you didn't dhrarae o' rain, Darby." 
 
 "Why, granny? What harm is it?" 
 
 "Oh nothin', only it comes in a crass place there." 
 
 "But it doesn't spile the dhrame, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh no. Go an." 
 
 " Well, with that, I thought I was passin' by Doolins, 
 the miller's, and says he to me, 'Will you carry home 
 this sack o' male for me ? ' Now you know, male is money, 
 every fool knows." 
 
 "Right, av'wr 
 
 "And so I tuk the sack o' male an my shouldher, 
 and I thought the weight iv it was killin' me, just as 
 if it was a sack o' goold." 
 
 "Go an, Darby." 
 
 "And with that I thought I met with a cat, and 
 that, you know, manes an ill-nathur'd woman." 
 
 "Right, Darby." 
 
 "And says she to me, < Darby Kelleher', says she, * you're 
 mighty yallow, God bless you; is it the jandhers you 
 have ? ' says she. Now wasn't that mighty sharp ? I think 
 the jandhers manes goold?" 
 
 "Yis, iv it was the yallow jandhers you dhremt iv, 
 but not the black jandhers." 
 
 "Well, it was the yallow jandhers." 
 
 "Very good, avic; that's makin' a fair offer at it."
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER. 195 
 
 "I thought so myself," said Darby, "more by token 
 when there was a dog in my dhrame next; and that's 
 a frind, you know." 
 
 "Right, awe." 
 
 "And he had a silver collar an him." 
 
 " Oh bad luck to that silver collar, Darby ; what made 
 you dhrame o' silver at all?" 
 
 "Why, what harm?" 
 
 "Oh I thought you knew betther nor to dhrame o 1 
 silver; cushla machree, sure silver is a disappointment all 
 the world over." 
 
 " Oh murther ! " said Darby, in horror, " and is my 
 dhrame spylte by that blackguard collar?" 
 
 "Nigh hand indeed, but not all out. It would be 
 spylte only for the dog, but the dog is a frind, and so 
 it will be only a frindly disappointment, or may be a 
 fallin 1 out with an acquaintance." 
 
 "Oh what matther," said Darby, "so the dhrame is 
 to the good still!!" 
 
 " The dhrame is to the good still ; but tell me if you 
 dhremt o 1 three sprigs o 1 sparemint at the ind iv it?" 
 
 "Why, then, now I could not say for sartin, bekase I 
 was nigh wakin' at the time, and the dhrame was not 
 so clear to me." 
 
 "I wish you could be sartin o' that." 
 
 "Why, I have it an my mind that there was spare- 
 mint in it, bekase I thought there was a garden in part 
 iv it, and the sparemint was likely to be there."
 
 196 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Sure enough, and so you did dhrame o' the three 
 sprigs o' sparemint." 
 
 "Indeed I could almost make my book-oath that I 
 dhremt iv it. I'm partly sartin, if not all out." 
 
 " Well, that's raysonable. It's a good dhrame, Darby." 
 
 "Do you tell me so?" 
 
 "'Deed an' it is, Darby. Now wait till the next 
 quarther o' the new moon, and dhrame again, then, and 
 you'll see what'll come of it." 
 
 "By dad an' I will, granny. Oh but it's you has 
 taken the maynin' out of it, beyant every thing; and 
 faix, if I find the crock, it's yourself won't be the worse 
 iv it; but I must be goin', granny, for the squire bid 
 me to hurry, or else I would stay longer wid you. Good 
 mornin' to you good mornin' Oonah! I'll see you to- 
 morrow sometime, granny." And off went Darby, leisurely 
 enough. 
 
 The foregoing dialogue shows the ready credulity of 
 poor Darby; but it was not in his belief of the 
 "vartue of dhrames" that his weakness only lay. He 
 likewise had a most extensive creed as regarded fairies 
 of all sorts and sizes, and was always on the look-out 
 for a Leprechaun. Now a Leprechaun is a fairy of peculiar 
 tastes, properties and powers, which it is necessary to 
 acquaint the reader with. His taste as to occupation is 
 very humble, for he employs himself in making shoes, 
 and he loves retirement, being fond of shady nooks, where 
 he can sit alone and pursue his avocation undisturbed.
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 197 
 
 He is quite a hermit in this respect, for there is no 
 instance on record of two Leprechauns being seen together. 
 But he is quite a beau in his dress, notwithstanding, for 
 he wears a red square-cut coat, richly laced with gold, 
 waistcoat and inexpressibles of the same, cocked hat, 
 shoes and buckles. He has the property of deceiving, in 
 so great a degree, those who chance to discover him, that 
 none have ever yet been known whom he has not over- 
 reached in the "keen encounter of the wits," which his 
 meeting with mortals always produces. This is occasioned 
 by his possessing the power of bestowing unbounded 
 wealth on whoever can keep him within sight until he 
 is weary of the surveillance, and gives the ransom demand- 
 ed, and to this end, the object of the mortal who is so 
 fortunate as to surprise one, is to seize him, and never 
 withdraw his eye from him, until the threat of destruc- 
 tion forces the leprechaun to produce the treasure; but 
 the sprite is too many for us clumsy-witted earthlings, 
 and is sure, by some device, to make us avert our eyes, 
 when he vanishes at once. 
 
 This Enchanted Cobbler of the meadows, Darby 
 Kelleher was always on the look-out for. But though 
 so constantly on the watch for a Leprechaun, he never 
 had got even within sight of one, and the name of the 
 Fairy Finder was bestowed upon him in derision. Many 
 a trick too was played on him ; sometimes a twig stuck 
 amongst long grass, with a red rag hanging upon it, 
 has betrayed Darby into a cautious observance and
 
 198 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 approach, until a nearer inspection, and a laugh from 
 behind some neighbouring hedge, have dispelled the illusion. 
 But this, though often repeated, did not cure him, and 
 no turkey-cock had a quicker eye for a bit of red, or 
 flew at it with greater eagerness, than Darby Kelleher ; 
 and he entertained the belief that one day or other he 
 would reap the reward of all his watching, by finding a 
 Leprechaun in good earnest. 
 
 But that was all in the hands of Fate, and must be 
 waited for: in the meantime there was the castle and 
 the "crock o 1 goold" for a certainty, and, under the 
 good omens of the "sharp dhrame" he had, he deter- 
 mined on taking that affair in hand at once. For his 
 companion in the labour of digging, and pulling the 
 ponderous walls of the castle to pieces, he selected Oonah, 
 who was, in the parlance of her own class, "a brave 
 two-handed long-sided jack," and as great a believer in 
 dreams and omens as Darby himself; besides, she promised 
 profound secrecy, and agreed to take a small share of 
 the treasure for her reward in assisting to discover it. 
 
 For about two months Darby and Oonah laboured in 
 vain ; but, at last, something came of their exertions. In 
 the course of their work, when they occasionally got 
 tired, they would sit down to rest themselves and talk 
 over their past disappointments and future hopes. Now 
 it was during one of these intervals of repose that Darby, 
 as he was resting himself on one of the coign- stones of the 
 ruin, suddenly discovered that he was in love with Oonah.
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 199 
 
 Now Oonah happened to be thinking much in the 
 same sort of way about Darby, at that very moment, 
 and the end of the affair was, that Darby and Oonah 
 were married the Sunday following. 
 
 The calculating Englishman will ask, did he find the 
 treasure before he married the girl ? The unsophisticated 
 boys of the sod never calculate on these occasions; and 
 the story goes that Oonah Lenehan was the only treasure 
 Darby discovered in the old castle. Darby's acquaintances 
 were in high glee on the occasion, and swore he got a 
 great lob for Oonah, be it remembered, was on the 
 grenadier scale, or what, in Ireland, is called "the full 
 of a door," and the news spread over the country in 
 some such fashion as this 
 
 "Arrah, an"* did you hear the news?" 
 
 "What news?" 
 
 "About Darby Kelleher." 
 
 "What of him?" 
 
 "Sure he found a fairy at last. 11 
 
 "Tare an ounty !" 
 
 "Thruth Fm tellin' you. He's married to Oonah 
 Lenehan." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! by the powers it's she that is the rale 
 fairy! musha, more power to you, Darby, but you've 
 cotched it in airnest now!" 
 
 But the fairy he had caught did not satisfy Darby 
 so far as to make him give up the pursuit for the future. 
 He was still on the watch for a Leprechaun; and one
 
 200 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 morning as he was going to his work, he stopped 
 suddenly on his path, which lay through a field of 
 standing corn, and his eye became riveted on some object 
 with the most eager expression. He crouched, and crawled, 
 and was making his way with great caution towards the 
 point of his attraction, when he was visited on the back 
 of the head with a thump that considerably disturbed 
 his visual powers, and the voice of his mother, a vigorous 
 old beldame, saluted his ear at the same time with a 
 hearty "Bad luck to you, you lazy thief, what are you 
 slindging 58 there for, when it's minding your work you 
 ought to be?" 
 
 "Whisht! whisht! mother, 1 ' 1 said Darby, holding up 
 his hand in token of silence. 
 
 "What do you mane, you omadhawn?' 1 '' 
 
 "Mother, be quiet, I bid you! Whisht! I see it." 
 
 "What do you see?" 
 
 "Stoop down here. Straight forninst you, don't you 
 see it as plain as a pikestaff." 
 
 "See what?" 
 
 "That little red thing." 
 
 "Well, what of it." 
 
 "See there, how it stirs. Oh murther! it's goin' to 
 be aff afore I can catch it. Oh murther! why did you 
 come here at all, makin' a noise and frightenin' it away?" 
 
 "Frightenin' what, you big fool?" 
 
 "The Leprechaun there. Whisht! it's quiet agin." 
 
 "May the d 1 run a huntin' wid you for a big
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 201 
 
 omadhaun; why, you born nath'ral, is it that red thing 
 over there you mane?" 
 
 "Yis, to be sure it is; don't spake so loud, I tell you."" 
 
 "Why, bad scran 59 to you, you fool, it's a poppy it 
 is, and nothin 1 else;' 1 and the old woman went over to 
 the spot where it grew, and plucking it up by the roots, 
 threw it at Darby, with a great deal of abuse into the 
 bargain, and bade him go mind his work, instead of 
 being a "slindging vagabone, as he was." 
 
 It was some time after this occurrence that Darby 
 Kelleher had a meeting with a certain Doctor Dionysius 
 Mac Finn, whose name became much more famous than 
 it had hitherto been, from the wonderful events that 
 ensued in consequence. 
 
 Of the doctor himself it becomes necessary to say 
 something : his father was one Paddy Finn, and had been 
 so prosperous in the capacity of a cow doctor, that his 
 son Denis, seeing the dignity of a professor in the healing 
 art must increase in proportion to the nobleness of the 
 animal he operates upon, determined to make the human, 
 instead of the brute creation, the object of his care. 
 To this end he was assisted by his father, who had 
 scraped some money together in his humble calling, and 
 having a spice of ambition in him, as well as his aspiring 
 son, he set him up in the neighbouring village as an 
 apothecary. Here Denny enjoyed the reputation of being 
 an "iligant bone-setter,"" and cracked skulls, the result 
 of fair fighting, and whisky fevers were treated by him
 
 202 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 on the most approved principles. But Denny's father 
 was gathered unto his fathers, and the son came into 
 the enjoyment of all the old man's money : this, considering 
 his condition, was considerable, and the possession of a 
 few hundred pounds so inflated the apothecary that he 
 determined on becoming a "Doctor" at once. For this 
 purpose he gave up his apothecary's shop, and set off 
 where do you think? to Spain. Here he remained for 
 some time, and returned to Ireland, declaring himself a 
 full physician of one of the Spanish universities ; his name 
 of Denny Finn transformed into Doctor Dionysius Mac 
 Finn, or, as his neighbours chose to call it, Mac Fun, 
 and fun enough the doctor certainly gave birth to. 
 The little money he once had was spent in his pursuit 
 of professional honours, and he returned to his native place 
 with a full title and an empty purse, and his practice 
 did not tend to fill it. At the same time there was a 
 struggle to keep up appearances. He kept a horse, or 
 what he intended to be considered as such, but 'twas 
 only a pony, and if he had but occasion to go to the 
 end of the village on a visit, the pony was ordered on 
 service. He was glad to accept an invitation to dinner 
 whenever he had the luck to get one, and the offer of 
 a bed, even, was sure to be accepted, because that insured 
 breakfast the next morning. Thus, poor Doctor Dionysius 
 made out the cause. He was often asked to dinner from 
 mingled motives of kindness and fun, for while a good 
 dinner was a welcome novelty to the doctor, the absurd-
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 203 
 
 ities of his pretension and manner rendered him a sub- 
 ject of unfailing diversion to his entertainers. Now he 
 had gone the round of all the snug farmers and country 
 gentlemen in the district, but, at last, he had the honour 
 to receive an invitation from the squire himself, and on 
 the appointed day Doctor Dionysius bestrode his pony, 
 attired in the full dress of a Spanish physician, which 
 happens to be red from head to foot, and presented 
 himself at "The Hall." 
 
 When a groom appeared to take his "horse" to the 
 stable, the doctor requested that his steed might be 
 turned loose on the lawn, declaring it to be more 
 wholesome for the animal than being cooped up in a 
 house; the saddle and bridle were accordingly removed, 
 and his desire complied with. 
 
 The doctor's appearance in the drawing-room, attired 
 as he was, caused no small diversion, but attention was 
 speedily called off from him by the announcement of 
 dinner, that electric sound that stimulates a company at 
 the same instant, and supersedes every other consideration 
 whatsoever. Moreover, the squire's dinners were notori- 
 ously good, and the doctor profited largely by the same 
 that day, and lost no opportunity of filling his glass with 
 the choice wines that surrounded him. This he did to 
 so much purpose that the poor little man was very far 
 gone when the guests were about to separate. 
 
 At the doctor's request the bell was rung, and his 
 horse ordered, as the last remaining few of the company
 
 204 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 were about to separate, but every one of them had 
 departed, and still there was no announcement of the 
 steed being at the door. At length a servant made his 
 appearance, and said it was impossible to catch the 
 doctor's pony. 
 
 "What do you mean by 'catch'?" said the squire. 
 "Is it not in the stable?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 Here an explanation ensued, and the squire ordered 
 a fresh attempt to be made to take the fugitive; but 
 though many fresh hands were employed in the attempt, 
 the pony baffled all their efforts ; every manoeuvre, usually 
 resorted to on such occasions, was vainly put in practice. He 
 was screwed up into corners, but no sooner was he there 
 than, squeeling and flinging up his heels, he broke through 
 the blockade; again his flank was turned by nimble 
 runners, but the pony was nimbler still; a sieve full of 
 oats was presented as an inducement, but the pony was 
 above such vulgar tricks, and defied all attempts at being 
 captured. 
 
 This was the mode by which the doctor generally se- 
 cured the offer of a bed, and he might have been successful 
 in this instance, but for a knowing old coachman who 
 was up to the trick, and out of pure fun chose to expose 
 it ; so, bringing out a huge blunderbuss, he said, " Never 
 mind just let me at him, and I'll engage I'll make him 
 stand." 
 
 "Oh, my good man," said the doctor, "pray don't
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 205 
 
 take so much trouble; just let me go with you;" and 
 proceeding to the spot where the pony was still luxur- 
 iating on the rich grass of the squire's lawn, he gave a 
 low whistle, and the little animal walked up to his owner 
 with as much tractability as a dog. The saddling and 
 bridling did not take much time, and the doctor was 
 obliged to renounce his hopes of a bed and the morrow's 
 breakfast, and ride home or homewards, I should say, 
 for it was as little his destiny as his wish to sleep at 
 home that night, for he was so overpowered with his 
 potations that he could not guide the pony, and the 
 pony's palate was so tickled by the fresh herbage, that 
 he wished for more of it, and finding a gate, that led 
 to a meadow, open by the road side, he turned into the 
 field, where he very soon turned the doctor into a ditch, 
 so that they had bed and board between them to their 
 heart's content. 
 
 The doctor and his horse slept and ate profoundly all 
 night, and even the " rosy- fingered morn," as the poets 
 have it, found them in the continuance of their enjoy- 
 ment. Now it happened that Darby Kelleher was passing 
 along the path that lay by the side of the ditch where 
 the doctor was sleepmg, and on perceiving him, Darby 
 made as dead a set as ever pointer did at game. 
 
 The doctor, be it remembered, was dressed in red. 
 Moreover he was a little man, and his gold-laced hat and 
 ponderous shoe-buckles completed the resemblance to the 
 being that Darby took him for. Darby was at last
 
 206 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 certain that he had discovered a Leprechaun, and amaze 
 so riveted him to the spot, and anxiety made his pulse 
 beat so fast, that he could not move nor breathe for 
 some seconds. At last he recovered himself, and stealing 
 stealthily to the spot where the doctor slept, every inch 
 of his approach made him more certain of the reality of 
 his prize ; and when he found himself within reach of it, 
 he made one furious spring, and flung himself on the 
 unfortunate little man, fastening his tremendous fist on 
 his throat, at the same time exclaiming in triumph, 
 " Hurra ! by the hoky, I have you at last ! ! " 
 
 The poor little doctor, thus rudely and suddenly aroused 
 from his tipsy sleep, looked excessively bewildered when 
 he opened his eyes and met the glare of ferocious delight 
 that Darby Kelleher cast upon him, and he gurgled out, 
 " What's the matter ? " as well as the grip of Darby's 
 hand upon his throat would permit him. 
 
 "Goold's the matther," shouted Darby "Goold! 
 Goold! ! Goold! ! !" 
 
 "What about Goold?" says the doctor. 
 
 "Goold! yallow goold that's the matther." 
 
 " Is it Paddy Goold that's taken ill again ? " said the 
 doctor, rubbing his eyes. "Don't choke me, my good 
 man ; I'll go immediately," said he, endeavouring to rise. 
 
 "By my sowl, you won't," said Darby, tightening his 
 hold. 
 
 "For mercy's sake let me go!" said the doctor. 
 
 "Let you go indeed! QW! QW|"
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 207 
 
 "For the tender mercy " 
 
 "Goold! goold! you little vagabone!" 
 
 "Well, Tm going, if you let me." 
 
 "Divil a step;" and here he nearly choked him. 
 
 "Oh! murder! for God's sake!" 
 
 " Whisht! ! you thief how dar you say God, you 
 divil's imp! ! !" 
 
 The poor little man, between the suddenness of his 
 waking, and the roughness of the treatment he was under, 
 was in such a state of bewilderment that, for the first 
 time, he now perceived he was lying amongst grass and 
 under-bushes, and, rolling his eyes about, he exclaimed 
 
 " Where am I ? God bless me ! " 
 
 " Whisht! you little cruked ottomy by the holy farmer, 
 if you say God again, Til cut your throat." 
 
 "What do you hold me so tight for?" 
 
 " Just for fear you'd vanish, you see. Oh, I know you well." 
 
 "Then, my good man, if you know me so well, treat 
 me with proper respect, if you please." 
 
 "Divil send you respect. Respect indeed! that's a good 
 thing. Musha, bad luck to your impidence, you thievin' 
 owld rogue." 
 
 " Who taught you to call such names to your betters, 
 fellow? How dare you use a professional gentleman so 
 rudely?" 
 
 "Oh, do you hear this!! a profissionil gintleman! 
 Arrah, do you think I don't know you, you little owld 
 cobbler?"
 
 208 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Cobbler! Zounds, what do you mean, you ruffian? 
 Let me go, sirrah ! " and he struggled violently to rise. 
 
 "Not a taste, 'scure to the step you'll go out o' this 
 till you give me what I want.' 1 
 
 "What do you want, then?" 
 
 "Goold goold!" 
 
 "Ho! ho! so you're a robber, sir; you want to rob 
 me, do you?" 
 
 " Oh! what robbery it is! ! throth that won't do, as 
 cunnin' as you think yourself; you won't frighten me 
 that way. Come, give it at wanst you may as well. 
 I'll never let go my grip o' you antil you hand me out 
 the goold." 
 
 "'Pon the honour of a gentleman, gold nor silver is 
 not in my company. I have fourpence halfpenny in my 
 breeches' pocket, which you are welcome to if you let 
 go my throat." 
 
 " Fourpence ha'pny ! ! ! Why, then, do you think me 
 sitch a gom, all out, as to put me aff wid fourpence 
 ha'pny; throth, for three sthraws, I'd thrash you this 
 minit within an inch o' your life for your impidince. 
 Come, no humbuggin'; out with the goold!" 
 
 " I have no gold. Don't choke me : if you murder 
 me, remember there's law in the land. You'd better 
 let me go." 
 
 "Not a fut. Gi' me the goold, I tell you, you little 
 vagabond!" said Darby, shaking him violently. 
 
 " Don't murder me, for Heaven's sake ! "
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 209 
 
 "I will murdher you if you don't give me a hatful o' 
 goold this minit." 
 
 "A hatful of gold! Why, who do you take me for?" 
 
 "Sure I know you're a Leprechaun, you desaiver o' 
 the world!" 
 
 "A Leprechaun!' 1 ' 1 said the doctor, in mingled indigna- 
 tion and amazement. "My good man, you mistake." 
 
 "Oh, how soft I am! Twon't do, I tell you. I have 
 you, and I'll howld you ; long I've been lookin' for you, 
 and I cotch you at last, and by the 'tarnal o' war I'll 
 have your life or the goold." 
 
 "My good man, be merciful you mistake I'm no 
 Leprechaun-, I'm Doctor Mac Finn." 
 
 "That won't do either! you think to desaive me, but 
 'twon't do : just as if I didn't know a docthor from a 
 Leprechaun. Gi me the goold, you owld chate!" 
 
 "I tell you I'm Doctor Dionysius Mac Finn. Take 
 care what you're about! there's law in the land; and 
 I think I begin to know you. Your name is Kelleher!" 
 
 " Oh, you cunnin' owld thief ! oh, then but you are 
 the complate owld rogue; only I'm too able for you. 
 You want to freken me, do you? Oh, you little scrap 
 o' deception, but you are deep!" 
 
 " Your name is Kelleher I remember. My good fellow, 
 take care ; don't you know I'm Doctor Mac Finn don't 
 you see I am?" 
 
 "Why thin, but you have the dirty yallow pinched 
 look iv him, sure enough ; but don't I know you've only 
 u. H
 
 210 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 put it an you to desaive me; besides, the docthor has 
 dirty owld tatthers o' black clothes an him, and isn't as 
 red as a sojer like you." 
 
 "That's an accident, my good man." 
 
 " Gi' me the goold this minit, and no more prate wid 
 you!" 
 
 "I tell you, KeUeher " 
 
 " Howld your tongue, and gi' me the goold." 
 
 "By aU that's" 
 
 "Will you give it?" 
 
 "How can I?" 
 
 "Very well. You'll see what the ind of it 'ill be," 
 said Darby, rising, but still keeping his iron grip of the 
 doctor. " Now, for the last time, I ask you, will you gi' me 
 the goold ? or, by the powers o' wild-fire, I'll put you where 
 you'll never see daylight until you make me a rich man." 
 
 "I have no gold, I tell you." 
 
 " Faix, then I'll keep you till you find it," said Darby, 
 who tucked the little man under his arm, and ran home 
 with him as fast as he could. 
 
 He kicked at his cabin door for admittance when he 
 reached home, exclaiming 
 
 "Let me in! let me in! Make haste; I have him." 
 
 " Who have you ? " said Oonah, as she opened the door. 
 
 "Look at that!" said Darby in triumph; "I cotched 
 him at last!" 
 
 " Weira then, is it a Leprechaun, it is ? " said Oonah. 
 
 "Divil a less," said Darby, throwing down the doctor
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 
 
 on the bed, and still holding him fast. " Open the big 
 chest, Oonah, and well lock him up in it, and keep him 
 antil he gives us the goold." 
 
 "Murder! murder!" shouted the doctor. "Lock me 
 up in a chest! !" 
 
 "Gi' me the goold, then, and I won't." 
 
 "My good man, you know I have not gold to give." 
 
 " Don't believe him, Darby jewel," said Oonah ; " them 
 Leprechauns is the biggest liars in the world." 
 
 "Sure I know that!" said Darby, "as well as you. 
 Oh! all the throuble IVe had wid him; throth only 
 Fin aiqual to a counsellor for knowledge, he'd have nam- 
 plushed me long ago." 
 
 "Long life to you, Darby dear?" 
 
 "Mrs. Kelleher, " said the doctor. 
 
 " Oh Lord ! " said Oonah, in surprise, " did you ever 
 hear the like o 1 that? how he knows my name?" 
 
 "To be sure he does," said Darby, "and why not? 
 sure he's a fairy, you know. 1 " 
 
 "Fm no fairy, Mrs. Kelleher. Fm a doctor Doctor 
 Mac Finn." 
 
 "Don't blieve him, darlin 1 ," said Darby. "Make haste 
 and open the chest." 
 
 " Darby Kelleher," said the doctor, " let me go, and 
 Fll cure you whenever you want my assistance." 
 
 "Well, I want your assistance now," said Darby, "for 
 I'm very bad this minit wid poverty ; and if you cure 
 me o' that, Fll let you go."
 
 212 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " What will become of me ? '' said the doctor in despair, 
 as Darby carried him towards the big chest which Oonah 
 had opened. 
 
 "I'll tell you what'll become o' you," said Darby, 
 seizing a hatchet that lay within his reach; "by the 
 seven blessed candles, if you don't consint before night 
 to fill me that big chest full o' goold, 111 chop you as 
 small as aribs M for the pot."" And Darby crammed him 
 into the box. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Kelleher, be merciful to me," said the doctor, 
 "and whenever you're sick 111 attend you/" 
 
 "God forbid!" said Oonah; "it's not the likes o' you 
 I want when I'm sick ; attind me, indeed! bad luck to 
 you, you little imp, maybe you'd run away with my 
 babby, or it's a banshee you'd turny ourself into, and sing 
 for my death. Shut him up, Darby; it's not looky to 
 be howldin' discoorse wid the likes iv him." 
 
 "Oh!" said the doctor; but his cries were soon stifled 
 by the lid of the chest being closed on him. The key 
 was turned, and Oonah sprinkled over the lock some 
 holy water she had in a little bottle that hung in one 
 corner of the cabin, to prevent the fairy having any power 
 over it. 
 
 Darby and Oonah now sat down in consultation on 
 their affairs, and began forming their plans on an ex- 
 tensive scale, as to what they were to do with their 
 money, for have it they must, now that the Leprechaun 
 was fairly in their power. Now and then Darby would
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 213 
 
 rise and go over to the chest, very much as one goes to 
 the door of a room where a naughty child has been 
 locked up, to know "if it be good yet," and giving a 
 thump on the lid would exclaim, "Well, you little 
 vagabone, will you gi' me the goold yet?" 
 
 A groan and a faint answer of denial was all the reply 
 he received. 
 
 " Very well, stay there ; but, remember, if you don't 
 consint before night I'll chop you to pieces." He then 
 got his bill-hook, and began to sharpen it close by the 
 chest, that the Leprechaun might hear him; and when 
 the poor doctor heard this process going forward, he felt 
 more dead than alive; the horrid scraping of the iron 
 against the stone being interspersed with occasional in- 
 terjectional passages from Darby, such as, "Do you hear 
 that, you thief? I'm gettin' ready for you." Then away 
 he'd rasp at the grind-stone again, and, as he paused 
 to feel the edge of the weapon, exclaim, " By the powers, 
 I'll have it as sharp as a razhir." 
 
 In the meantime it was well for the prisoner that 
 there were many large chinks in the chest, or suffocation, 
 from his confinement, would have anticipated Darby's 
 pious intentions upon him; and, when he found matters 
 likely to go so hard with him, the thought struck him, 
 at last, of affecting to be what Darby mistook him for, 
 and regaining his freedom by stratagem. 
 
 To this end, when Darby had done sharpening his 
 billhook, the doctor replied, in answer to one of Darby's
 
 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 summonses for gold, that he saw it was in vain longer 
 to deny giving it, that Darby was too cunning for him, 
 and that he was ready to make him the richest man in 
 the country. 
 
 "Ill take no less than the full o' that chest," said 
 Darby. 
 
 " You'll have ten times the full of it, Darby," said the 
 doctor, "if you'll only do what I bid you." 
 
 "Sure I'll do any thing." 
 
 "Well, you must first prepare the mystificandherum- 
 brandherum." 
 
 "Tare an ouns ! how do I know what that is?" 
 
 " Silence, Darby Kelleher, and attend to me : that's a 
 magical ointment, which I will show you how to make; 
 and whenever you want gold, all you have to do is to 
 rub a little of it on the point of a pick-axe or your 
 spade, and dig wherever you please, and you will be sure 
 to find treasure." 
 
 "Oh, think o' that! faix, an' I'll make plenty of it 
 when you show me. How is it made?" 
 
 " You must go into the town, Darby, and get me three 
 things, and fold them three times in three rags torn out 
 of the left side of a petticoat that has not known water 
 for a year." 
 
 "Faith, I can do that much anyhow," said Oonah, 
 who began tearing the prescribed pieces out of her under- 
 garment 
 
 "And what three things am I to get you?"
 
 THE FAIRY FINDER 215 
 
 "First bring me a grain of salt from a house that 
 stands at cross roads." 
 
 "Crass roads! 11 said Darby, looking significantly at 
 Oonah; "By my sowl, but it's my dhrame's comin 1 out! 11 
 
 "Silence, Darby Kelleher, 11 said the doctor with so- 
 lemnity; "mark me, Darby Kelleher; 11 and then he 
 proceeded to repeat a parcel of gibberish to Darby, 
 which he enjoined him to remember, and repeat again; 
 but as Darby could not, the doctor said he should only 
 write it down for him, and, tearing a leaf from his poc- 
 ket-book, he wrote in pencil a few words, stating the 
 condition he was in, and requesting assistance. This 
 slip of paper he desired Darby to deliver to the apoth- 
 ecary in the town, who would give him a drug that 
 would complete the making of the ointment. 
 
 Darby went to the apothecary's as he was desired, 
 and it happened to be dinner time when he arrived. 
 The apothecary had a few friends dining with him, and 
 Darby was detained until they chose to leave the table, 
 and go, in a body, to liberate the poor little doctor. 
 He was pulled out of the chest amidst the laughter of 
 his liberators and the fury of Darby and Oonah, who 
 both made considerable fight against being robbed of 
 their prize. At last the doctor's friends got him out of 
 the house, and proceeded to the town to supper, where 
 the whole party kept getting magnificently drunk, until 
 sleep plunged them into dizzy dreams of Leprechauns 
 and Fairy Finders.
 
 216 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 The doctor for some days swore vengeance against 
 Darby, and threatened a prosecution; but his friends 
 recommended him to let the matter rest, as it would 
 only tend to make the affair more public, and get him 
 nothing but laughter for damages. 
 
 As for Darby Kelleher, nothing could ever persuade 
 him that it was not a real Leprechaun he had caught, 
 which, by some villainous contrivance on the Fairy's part, 
 changed itself into the semblance of the doctor; and he 
 often said the great mistake he made was "giviri 1 the 
 little vagabone so much time, for that if he done right, 
 he'd have set about cutting his throat at wanst."
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL. 
 
 A ZOOLOGICAL PUZZLE. 
 
 HITHERTO it has been believed that no animals could 
 be more distinct than the two whose names form the 
 heading of this chapter. But I will show that in the 
 case I am about to adduce, the Irish Bull has been pro- 
 duced from the Spanish Boar. It will be objected, per- 
 haps, by the learned, that there was a cross in the female 
 line, on one side, and I do not deny it, but still, when 
 the facts come to be developed, as I hope they shall be, 
 in a clear and satisfactory manner, in the following pages, 
 I am sure there will not be found any zoologist, either 
 of the Jardin des Plantes, the Regent's Park, the Surrey 
 or the Dublin Gardens, that will not acknowledge the 
 case I have to lay before them as, at least, very extra- 
 ordinary. 
 
 I was for a long time undecided as to the mode in 
 which I should treat this curious affair. To do so, 
 scientifically, is beyond my power therefore the next 
 best way I had of doing it, was to put it somewhat into 
 the shape of a memoir. And here lay another difficulty, 
 for the rage has been so great for autobiographies, that 
 I fancied my memoir must be put before the world in
 
 218 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 this shape, and neither of my personages were felicitous 
 subjects for such a mode of treatment. The Bull would 
 prove, I fear, as unprofitable a hero in an autobiography 
 as in a china shop, where, in the true spirit of an auto- 
 biographer, he, proverbially, "has it all his own way. 11 
 And as for the Boar, the fact is that so many bores 
 have turned autobiographers of late, I did not like run- 
 ning the risk of surfeiting the public, therefore I decided, 
 as the safest course, to speak in the third person of my 
 principals, and the first I shall treat of, is the Boar. 
 
 The humblest biographer will scarcely commence with 
 less than stating that his hero has been descended from 
 a good family : now my hero being a Spaniard, a merely 
 good family would not be enough, he must, in right of 
 his national pride, come from a great one, and I can 
 safely assert that mine was one of a very great family 
 there were sixteen of them at a litter. With my hero, 
 the season of youth, which, amongst the swinish race, 
 is proverbially that of beauty also, rapidly passed away, 
 and he increased in age, ugliness and devilment, in more 
 than the usual ratio, until his pranks in the woods were 
 suddenly put a stop to, by his being taken, one fine 
 day, in a toil, and carried a prisoner into the town of 
 Bilboa. 
 
 It chanced that, at the period of his capture, the 
 captain of a ship bound for Dublin, then lying in the 
 port, was very anxious to take home with him some 
 rarity from "foreign parts 11 as a present to a lady in
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL 219 
 
 the aforesaid city of Dublin, from whom he had received 
 some civility. It happened also, that the entry of the 
 Boar into Bilboa had created a prodigious sensation 
 amongst the worthy townsfolk, and was quite a godsend 
 to the wonder-mongers. Now the captain heard the 
 news amongst some gossip, just at the time he was 
 debating in his own mind, whether he should take home 
 some hanks of onions or a Spanish guitar for his intended 
 present, and the bright thought struck him, that, if he 
 could only procure this wonderful savage of the woods, 
 of whom report spoke so prodigiously, it would be the 
 most acceptable offering he could make to his fair 
 friend, and he accordingly set to work to obtain the 
 bristly curiosity, and succeeded in his negotiation. It 
 was agreed that the Boar should remain ashore until the 
 ship was ready for sea, in the possession of his captor, 
 who undertook to lodge the curiosity safely on board, 
 whenever required; but the captain, having occasion to 
 sail suddenly, was unable to send timely notice to the 
 Spaniard, who happened not to be at home when the 
 captain, in person, went to demand his Boar. 
 
 This was unfortunate, but as the occasion was urgent, 
 and the Irishman could not possibly wait, he was obliged 
 to endeavour to get his pet pig to the ship as well as 
 he could without the assistance of the Spaniard, who 
 understood all about " such small deer," and the consequence 
 was that the Boar was too much for the sailor, and to 
 use the captain's own words, the headstrong brute " slipped
 
 220 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 his cable and bore right away down the town," to the 
 infinite horror of the worthy townspeople. 
 
 " The boar ! the boar ! " was shouted on all sides, and 
 according to the established rule in such cases, those in 
 front of the danger ran before it, and those in the rear 
 ran after it, until such a prodigious crowd was screeching 
 at the heels of the Boar, that he was the most terrified 
 of the party, and in his panic, he turned down the first 
 open court he saw, off the high street, and ran for his life. 
 
 Now it happened, that of all places in the world, the 
 spot he selected was the Exchange and, moreover, it was 
 'Change hour, and the merchants were very solemnly 
 engaged in the mysteries of percentage, when the Boar 
 made his appearance amongst them. The Exchange, at 
 Bilboa, happens to be surrounded by fine old trees, and 
 in that space of time which is vulgarly called "the 
 twinkling of an eye,"" the stately merchants were startled 
 out of their solemnity, and were seen clambering like so 
 many monkeys into the trees to get out of the way of 
 the new comer, and so universal was this arborial ascent 
 that, in fact, our hero had the honour of producing the 
 greatest rise on 'Change ever remembered in Bilboa. 
 His first achievement in this court of commerce was to 
 make an endorsement on an elderly gentleman who was 
 not so active as some of his neighbours, and a Jew, who 
 was next overthrown, never had such a horror of pork 
 before. Cloaks and sombreros, dropt in the hurry of 
 flight, were tossed in horrid sport by the intruder, and
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL 221 
 
 having been hunted into one of the corners of the square, 
 he kept the assembled multitude at bay, until the arrival 
 of the regular bull-fighters terminated the adventure, by 
 retaking the vagrant. He had a narrow escape of his 
 life, for had it not been for the entreaties of the captain, 
 the matadors would have made short work with him. He 
 was got on board at last, and put into a place of security. 
 
 When our hero arrived in the Irish metropolis, he 
 was handed over to his new owner by the captain, much 
 to the satisfaction of both. The lady being one of those 
 who are delighted at having something that nobody else 
 has, was charmed, of course, at having obtained such a 
 rarity, and the captain blessed his stars at having got rid 
 of the greatest nuisance that ever was on board his ship. 
 
 A small enclosure at the rear of the city tenement 
 was dedicated to the use of the Boar, and for some days, 
 while the charm of novelty gave a zest to the inspection, 
 
 Mrs. used to sit, for hours, eyeing the foreigner with 
 
 infinite delight, through a hole cut in a strongly barri- 
 caded door that shut in the wonder. In those cases, as 
 Campbell says, 
 
 "Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." 
 
 And she used to issue cards of invitation to her friends, 
 to come and see the only wild boar in Ireland. This 
 was a great triumph, but, alas! for all sublunary enjoy- 
 ments, they fade but too fast, and when the first blush 
 of novelty had faded, and that the celebrity attached to
 
 222 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 being a boar-owner had become hackyned, Mrs. began 
 
 to think this acquisition of a wild pig no such enviable 
 matter, and she would rather have seen him hanging to 
 the rafters of her kitchen in ham and flitch, than parad- 
 ing up and down her premises; besides, the yard which 
 he occupied was rendered useless for any other purpose 
 than a "parlour for the pig," for the unmannerly gen- 
 tleman had taken military possession of his domain, and 
 no one in the establishment dared approach him ; to such 
 a degree had this terror arrived, that, at last, his ' prog 1 
 was thrown to him over the wall, and serious thoughts 
 were entertained by his owner of making "swift convey- 
 ance of her dear 11 wild boar, when she was relieved from 
 further dire intents upon our hero, by the following 
 occurrence : 
 
 A distinguished member of the Dublin Zoological 
 
 Society waited upon Mrs. as she sat at breakfast one 
 
 morning, and requested permission to see "her Boar. 11 
 This would have been a great delight a fortnight before : 
 to have a member of the Zoological Society soliciting 
 the honour of seeing her Boar, but the truth was Don 
 Pig had rendered himself so intolerable that nothing 
 could compensate for the nuisance, and this additional 
 offering to her vanity as a wonder-proprietor, came too 
 late to be valued. Still she affected a tone of triumph, 
 and led the zoological professor to the treat he sought 
 for, and pointing with dignity to the loophole cut in 
 the door, she said, " There, sir. 11
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL 223 
 
 After the professor, in silent wonder, had feasted his 
 eyes for some time on the barbarian through this safety- 
 valve, he exclaimed, "What a noble specimen! The finest 
 boar I ever saw!" 
 
 "Isn't he a lovely creature? 11 said Mrs. . 
 
 "Charming, madam. 11 
 
 "And his tail, doctor!" 
 
 "Has the true wild curl, madam Oh, madam, you 
 surely do not mean to keep this fine creature all to 
 yourself; you really ought to present him to the Society. 11 
 
 "How could you think of asking me to part with my 
 pet, doctor? 11 
 
 " Fm sure your own public spirit, madam, would suggest 
 the sacrifice; and of course a very handsome vote of 
 thanks from the Society, as well as the gift securing to 
 you all the privileges of a member. 11 
 
 Here was something to be gained, so instead of Mrs. 
 giving her lodger a dose of prussic acid, or some- 
 thing of that sort, which she contemplated, she made a 
 present of him to the Zoological Society, and the professor 
 took his leave, in great delight at having secured so fine 
 an animal, but not half so happy as the lady was in 
 getting rid of him. 
 
 The next day, the proper authorities secured the bristly 
 don, and he was consigned to the cart of the Zoological 
 Society to be carried forthwith to the Phoenix Park, where 
 the Gardens of that learned body are situated. The 
 driver of the cart, who, it happened, was quite ignorant
 
 224 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 of the pains it had cost to place his inside passenger in 
 his seat, was passing up Barrack Street, when he was 
 accosted by a friend on the flags, with, "Why thin, 
 blur-an-agers, Mike, is that you?" "By gor, it's myself, 
 and no one else," says Mike "and how is yourself?' 1 
 "Bravely!" says Jim; "and it's myself is glad to see you 
 lookin' so clane and hearty, Mike dear, and well aff to 
 all appearance." "By dad, I'm as happy as the day's 
 long," says Mike, "and has an iligant place, and divil 
 a thing to do, good, bad, or indifferent, but to dhrive 
 about this cart from morning till night, excep'n when I 
 may take a turn at feedin' the bastes." "Why, have 
 you more horses nor the one you're dhriving to mind?" 
 says Jim. 
 
 "Oh, they're not horses at all," says Mike, "but 
 unnathral bastes, you see, that they keep up in the 
 Park beyant." 
 
 "And what would they be at all?" says Jim. 
 
 "Och, the quarest outlandish craythurs ye iver seen," 
 says Mike, "and all belongin' to the gintlemin that 
 employs me; and indeed a pleasant life I have, dhrivin' 
 all day; indeed, it's a'most 'as good as a gintleman's, 
 only I sit an a cart instead of being say ted in a 
 Cabrowley." " 
 
 "And what do you call them at all?" asked the 
 inquisitive Jim. 
 
 "They call themselves the Sorrow-logical Sisiety, and 
 indeed some o' them is black-lookin' enough, but others
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL 225 
 
 o' them is as merry as if they worn't belongin' to a 
 Sorrow-logical Sisiety, at all at all." 
 
 "And what is it y'r dhrivin' now?" asked Jim. 
 
 "Indeed an' it's a wild boar," says Mike. 
 
 "And is he like a nath'ral boar?" says Jim. 
 
 "Faix, myself doesn't know, for I never seen him, 
 bekase while they wor ketchin' him and putting him in 
 the cart, the masther sint me for to ordher gingerbread 
 nuts for the monkeys." 
 
 "Oh, queen in heaven, an' is it gingerbread nuts [they 
 ate ! " says Jim in amazement. 
 
 " Throth an' it is," says Mike ; " they get gingerbread 
 nuts when the hazels is not in sayson ; and sure I hear, 
 in their own counthry, the gingerbread grows nath'ral." 
 
 " Blur an' ouns ! do you tell me so ? " says Jim. 
 
 "Divil a lie in it," says Mike. 
 
 "And where would that be at all?" says Jim. 
 
 "Undher the line, I hear them say." 
 
 "And where's that?" says Jim. 
 
 "Oh, thin, don't you know that, you poor ignorant 
 craythur?" says Mike; "sure that's in the north of 
 Amerikay, where the Hot-in-pots 62 lives." 
 
 "Ah, you thief," says Jim, " you didn't know that yourself 
 wanst; but you're pickin' up larnin' in your new place." 
 
 "Indeed and I always knew that," says Mike; "and 
 sure you never seen a monkey yet that they hadn't a 
 line for him to run up and down, accordin' to the nathur 
 
 o' the beast." 
 
 n. 15
 
 226 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Well, I give up to you as for the monkeys, but as 
 I never seen a wild boar yet, don't be ill-nathured to an 
 owld frind, but let me have a peep at him, Mike agra!" 
 
 "Throth an' I will, and welkim," says Mike; "just 
 get up behind there, and rise the lid of the cart." 
 
 Jim did as he was desired; and the moment the lid 
 of the cart was raised, so far from the sense of seeing 
 being gratified in the explorer, according to his own 
 account, "he thought the sight id lave his eyes when 
 he seen all as one as two coals o' fire looking at him, 
 and the unnathral brestly divil making a dart at him, 
 that it was the marcy o' hivin it didn't take the life 
 iv him." 
 
 Jim was sent, heels over head, into the mud, by the 
 Boar brushing by him in plunging out of the cart, and 
 preferring the "pedestrian to the vehicular mode," as 
 Dominie Sampson says, the foreigner, again in freedom, 
 charged down Barrack Street, in all the glory of liberty 
 regained. Now Barrack Street, as its name implies, being 
 in the neighbourhood of the garrison, it may be supposed 
 is much more populous than the street of Bilboa, where 
 the Boar made his first appearance in public; and in 
 fulfilment of the adage, "The more the merrier," the 
 consternation was in proportion to the numbers engaged. 
 Apple-stands, stalls of gilt gingerbread, baskets of oysters, 
 and still more unlucky eggs (for the Boar, like many, 
 was one of those ignorant people who don't know the 
 difference between an egg and an oyster), were upset
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL 227 
 
 with the utmost impartiality; and ere he had arrived at 
 Queen's Bridge, full five hundred pursuers, with ten 
 times the number of all sorts of the most elaborate curses 
 upon him, were at his heels. Were I to give a "full 
 and true account" of the chase, the far-famed Kilruddery 
 hunt 63 would be nothing to it ; suffice it to say, he never 
 cried "stop" until he arrived at the Meath Hospital, 
 a run of about a mile and a half. There, his flank 
 being turned, he was driven into a court, where he held 
 his pursuers at bay for some time, as in the Bilboa 
 affair, until a Paddy, more experienced than his neigh- 
 bours in the taming of unruly cattle, flung his frieze 
 coat over the head of the fugitive, and finally, with some 
 help, secured him. 
 
 I shall not enter into the particulars of how he was, 
 at last, installed in the gardens, of how the zoologists 
 triumphed in their new acquisition, of the vote of 
 
 thanks passed to Mrs. for her liberality in getting 
 
 rid of a nuisance, nor of the admiration which he excited 
 in the visitors to the garden, until his demolition of 
 three breadths of a silk gown, and his eating a reticule 
 containing a bunch of keys belonging to a worthy burgess's 
 wife who approached too near the piggery, rendered 
 future admirers more cautious. Indeed, at last, the gen- 
 tleman became so unruly that a large placard, readable 
 a mile and a half off, bearing the one significant word, 
 DANGEROUS, was put up over his domicile. The intract- 
 ability of the beast amounted to such a pitch that the
 
 228 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 gallantry universally existing, even in the brute species, 
 from the male to the female, was not to be found in 
 our hero; for a tame female of his kind was introduced 
 into his den, with a view to improving the race of pigs 
 in Ireland, and, as one of the professors (an amateur in 
 pigs) declared, for the purpose of enabling the Hibernian 
 market to compete in some time with Westphalia, in the 
 article of ham of which the projector of this scheme was 
 particularly fond ; but the lady, that it was intended should 
 have the honour of introducing the aristocratic Spanish 
 blood into the race of Paddy pigs, was so worried by her 
 intended lord and master, that she was obliged to be 
 withdrawn, and as it has frequently happened before, to 
 the mortification of matchmakers the affair was broken off. 
 
 In the meantime, the Boar became more and more 
 
 mischievous. It was then that Mrs. was waited 
 
 upon again by the zoologist who wheedled her out of 
 her darling, and was requested to take back her gift; 
 
 but Mrs. knew a trick worth two of that, and 
 
 said she had been so convinced by the professor's former 
 arguments, that the garden was the only place for him, 
 she could not think of depriving the public of such an 
 inestimable benefit. 
 
 The professor hinted a second vote of thanks; but it 
 
 would not do, and Mrs. declared she was perfectly 
 
 content with the first. 
 
 So the Society's bad bargain remained on their hands, 
 and the Westphalia project failed.
 
 THE SPANISH BOAR AND THE IRISH BULL 229 
 
 Why it did so, was never cleared up to the satisfaction 
 of the learned; but Mike, who sometimes "took a turn 
 at feedin 1 the bastes,"" had his own little solution of the 
 mystery very unscientific, I dare say, but appearing 
 quite natural to such poor ignorant creatures as his 
 confidential friends, to whom he revealed it under the 
 seal of solemn secrecy, they being all "book-sworn never 
 to tell it to man or mortyal," for fear of Mike losing 
 his place. But Mike darkly insinuates to these his 
 companions, with as many queer grimaces as one of his 
 own monkeys, and a knowing wink, and a tone almost 
 sufficiently soft for a love secret that, "by the powdhers 
 o' war, accordin' to his simple idays, the divil a bit of 
 the Boar but's a Sow." 
 
 So much, gentle reader, for Spanish boars and Irish 
 bulls.
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 64 
 
 The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three 
 ages since; but I think now 'tis not to be found 
 
 I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example 
 my digression by some mighty precedent. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 THE words great and little are sometimes contradic- 
 tory terms to their own meaning. This is stating the 
 case rather confusedly, but as I am an Irishman, and 
 writing an Irish story, it is the more in character. I 
 might do perhaps, like a very clever and agreeable friend 
 of mine, who, when he deals in some extravagance which 
 you don't quite 'understand, says, " Well, you know what 
 I mean. 11 But I will not take that for granted, so what 
 I mean is this that your great man, (as far as size is 
 concerned,) is often a nobody; and 'your little man, is 
 often a great man. Nature, as far as the human race 
 is concerned, is at variance with Art, which generally 
 couples greatness with size. The pyramids, the temple 
 of Jupiter Olympius, St. Peter's, and St. Paul's are vast 
 in their dimensions, and the heroes of Painting and 
 Sculpture are always on a grand scale. In Language, 
 the diminutive is indicative of endearment in Nature, 
 it appears to me, it is the type of distinction. Alex-
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 
 
 ander, Caesar, Napoleon, Wellington, &c., &c. (for I have 
 not room to detail) are instances. But do we not hear 
 every day that "such-a-body is a big booby," while "a 
 clever little fellow" has almost passed into a proverb. 
 The poets have been more true to Nature than painters, 
 in this particular, and in her own divine art, her happiest 
 votaries have been living evidences of her predilection to 
 " packing her choicest goods in small parcels." Pope was 
 " a crooked little thing that asked questions,"" and in our 
 own days, our own "little Moore" is a glorious testimony 
 to the fact. The works of fiction abound with instances 
 that the author does not consider it necessary his hero 
 shall be an eligible candidate for the "grenadier corps;" 
 the earlier works of fiction in particular : Fairy tales, 
 universally, dedicate some giant to destruction at the hands 
 of some clever little fellow." "Tom Thumb," "Jack 
 and the Bean Stalk," and fifty other such for instance, 
 and I am now going to add another to the list, a brilliant 
 example, I trust, of the unfailing rule, that your little 
 man is always a great man. 
 
 If any gentleman six foot two inches high gets angry 
 at reading this, I beg him to remember that I am a 
 little man myself, and if he be a person of sense (which is 
 supposing a great deal), he will pardon, from his own 
 feeling of indignation at this expose of Patagonian inferi- 
 ority, the consequent triumph, on my part, of Lilliputian 
 distinction. If, however, his inches get the better of 
 him, and he should call me out, I beg of him to remem-
 
 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 her, again, that I have the advantage of him there too, 
 in being a little man. There is a proverb also, that 
 "little said is soon mended," and with all my preaching, 
 I fear I have been forgetting the wholesome adage. So 
 I shall conclude this little introduction, which I only 
 thought a becoming flourish of trumpets for introducing 
 my hero, by placing Little Fairly before my readers, and 
 I hope they will not think, in the words of another 
 adage, that -I have given them great cry and little wool. 
 
 You see owld Fairly was a mighty dacent man that 
 lived, as the story goes, out over the back o' the hills 
 bey ant there, and was a thrivin 1 man ever afther he 
 married little Shane RuadJi's daughther, and she was little, 
 like her father before her, a dawmhee craythur, but 
 mighty cute, and industhered a power, always, and a fine 
 wife she was to a sthrivin ' man, up early and down late, 
 and shure if she was doin' nothin' else, the bit iv a 
 stocking was never out if her hand, and the knittin' 
 needles goin 1 like mad. Well, sure they thruv like a 
 flag or a bulrush, and the snuggest cabin in the counthry 
 side was owld Fairly's. And in due coorse she brought 
 him a son, throth she lost no time about it either, for 
 she was never given to loitherin', and he was the picthur 
 o' the mother, the little ottomy that he was, as slim as 
 a ferret and as red as a fox, but a hardy craythur. 
 Well, owld Fairly didn't like the thoughts of having 
 sitch a bit iv a brat for a son, and besides he thought
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 233 
 
 he got on so well and prospered in the world with one 
 wife, that, by gor, he detarmined to improve his luck 
 and get another. So, with that, he ups and goes to one 
 Doody, who had a big daughter a whopper, by my 
 sowl! throth she was the full of a door, and was called 
 by the neighbours garran more, for in throth she was 
 a garran, the dirty dhrop was in her, a nasty stag that 
 never done a good turn for any one but herself; the 
 long-sided jack, that she was, but her father had a power 
 o 1 money, and above a hundher head o 1 cattle, and divil 
 a chick nor child he had but herself, so that she was a 
 great catch for whoever could get her, as far as the 
 fortin 1 wint ; but throth, the boys did not like the looks 
 iv her, and let herself and her fortin 1 alone. Well, as 
 I was say in 1 , owld Fairly ups and he goes to Doody and 
 puts his comether an the girl, and faix she was glad to 
 be ax'd, and so matthers was soon settled, and the ind 
 of it was they wor married. 
 
 Now maybe it's axin 1 you'd be how he could marry 
 two wives at wanst; but I towld you before, it was long 
 ago, in the good owld ancient times, whin a man could 
 have plinty of every thing. So, home he brought the 
 dirty garran, and sorra long was she in the place whin 
 she began to breed, (arrah, lave off and don't be laughin 1 
 now ; I don't mane that at all,) whin she began to breed 
 ructions in the famly, and to kick up antagions from 
 mornin 1 till night, and put betune owld Fairly and his 
 first wife. Well, she had a son of her own soon, and
 
 234 LEGENDS AND STORIES OP IRELAND 
 
 he was a big boss iv a divil, like his mother a great 
 fat lob that had no life in him at all; and while the 
 little dawnshee craythur would laugh in your face and 
 play with you if you cherrup'd to him, or would amuse 
 himself the craythur, crawlin ' about the flure and playin' 
 wid the sthraws, and atein' the gravel, the jewel, the 
 other bosthoon was roarin' from mornin 1 till night, barrin 
 he was crammed wid stirabout and dhrownded a'most wid 
 milk. Well, up they grew, and the big chap turned out 
 a gommoch, and the little chap was as knowin' as a jailor; 
 and though the big mother was always puttin 1 up her 
 lob to rnalthrate and abuse little Fairly, the dick ins a 
 one but the little chap used to sarcumvint him, and gev 
 him no pace, but led him the life iv a dog wid the 
 cunnin 1 thricks he played an him. Now, while all the 
 neighbours a'most loved the ground that little Fairly throd 
 on, they cudn't abide the garran mare's foal, good, bad 
 or indifferent, and many's the sly malavoguetri 1 he got behind 
 a hedge, from one or another, when his mother or father 
 wasn't near to purtect him ; for owld Fairly was as great 
 a fool about him as the mother, and would give him his eyes 
 a'most, to play marvels, while he didn't care three thraneens 
 for the darlint little chap. And 'twas the one thing as 
 long as he lived ; and at last he fell sick, and sure many 
 thought it was a judgment an him for his unnathral 
 doin's to his own flesh and blood, and the sayin 1 through 
 the parish was, from one and all, "There's owld Fairly 
 is obleeged to take to his bed with the weight of his
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 235 
 
 sins." And sure enough aff o' that same bed he never 
 riz, but grew weaker and weaker every day, and sint for 
 the priest to make his sowl, the wicked owld sinner, God 
 forgive me for sayin' the word, and sure the priest done 
 whatever he could for him ; but after the priest wint 
 away he called his two wives beside his bed, and the 
 two sons, and says he, " I'm goin' to lave yiz now," says 
 he, "and sorry I am," says he, "for I'd rather stay in 
 owld Ireland than go anywhere else," says he, "for a 
 raison I have hegh! hegh! hegh! Oh, murther, this 
 cough is smotherin' me, so it is. Oh, wurra ! zvurra ! but 
 it's sick and sore I am. Well, come here yiz both," says 
 he to the women, "you wor good wives both o' ye; I 
 have nothin' to say agin it (Molly, don't forget the 
 whate is to be winny'd the first fine day) and ready 
 you wor to make and to mind (Judy, there's a hole in 
 the foot of my left stockin'), and " 
 
 "Don't be thinkin' o' your footin' here," says little 
 Judy, the knowledgeable craythur, as she was, "but 
 endayvour to make your footin' in heaven," says she, 
 " mavourneen? 
 
 "Don't put in your prate 'till you're ax'd," says the 
 owld savage, no ways obleeged that his trusty little 
 owld woman was wantin' to give him a helpin' hand 
 tow'rds puttin' his poor sinful sowl in the way o' glory. 
 
 "Lord look down an you!" says she. 
 
 "Tuck the blanket round my feet," says he, "for I'm 
 gettin very cowld."
 
 236 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 So the big owld hag of a wife tucked the blankets 
 round him. 
 
 "Ah, you were always a comfort to me," says owld 
 Fairly. 
 
 "Well, remember my son for that same," says she, 
 "for it's time I think you'd be dividin' what you have 
 betuxt uz," says she. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must do it at last," says the owld 
 chap, "though hegh! hegh! hegh! Oh this thievin' 
 cough though it's hard to be obleeged to lave one's 
 hard airnins and comforts this a-way," says he, the 
 unfortunate owld thief, thinkin' o' this world instead of 
 his own poor sinful sowl. 
 
 "Come here, big Fairly," says he, "my own bully 
 boy, that's not a starved poor ferret, but worth while 
 lookin' at. I lave you this house," says he. 
 
 "Ha!" says the big owld sthrap, makin' a face over 
 the bed at the poor little woman that was cryin', the 
 craythur, although the owld villian was usin' her so bad. 
 
 "And I lave you all my farms," says he. 
 
 "Ha!" says the big owld sihreel again. 
 
 "And my farmin' ingraydients," says he. 
 
 "Ha!" says she again, takin' a pinch o' snuff. 
 
 "And all my cattle," says he. 
 
 "Did you hear that, ma'am?" says the garran more, 
 stickin' her arms akimbo, and lookin' as if she was goin' 
 to bate her. 
 
 "All my cattle," says the owld fellow, "every head,"
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 237 
 
 says he, "barrin' one, and that one is for that poor 
 scaldcrow there," says he, "little Fairly."" 
 
 "And is it only one you lave my poor boy?" says 
 the poor little woman. 
 
 " If you say much," says the owld dyin' vagabone, " the 
 divil resave the taste of any thing I'll lave him or 
 you," says he. 
 
 "Don't say divil, darlin'." 
 
 "Howld your prate I tell you, and listen to me. I 
 say, you little Fairly." 
 
 "Well, daddy," says the little chap. 
 
 "Go over to that corner cupboard," says he, "and on 
 the top shelf," says he, " in the bottom of a crack'd 
 taypot, you'll find a piece of an owld rag, and bring it 
 here to me." 
 
 With that little Fairly went to do as he was bid, but 
 he could not reach up so high as the corner cupboard, 
 and he run into the next room for a stool to stand 
 upon to come at the crack'd taypot, and he got the owld 
 piece iv a rag and brought it to his father. 
 
 " Open it," says the father. 
 
 "I have it open now," says little Fairly. 
 
 "What's in it?" says the owld boy. 
 
 "Six shillin's in silver, and three farthin's," says little 
 Fairly. 
 
 "That was your mother's fortune," says the father, 
 "and I'm goin' to behave like the hoighth of a gentle- 
 man, as I am," says he; "I'll give you your mother's
 
 238 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 fortune," says he, "and I hope you won't squandher it," 
 says he, "the way that every blackguard now thinks he 
 has a right to squandher any decent man's money he is 
 the heir to," says he, "but be careful of it," says he, 
 "as I was, for I never touched a rap iv it, but let it 
 lie gotherin' in that taypot, ever since the day I got it 
 from Shane Ruadh, the day we sthruck the bargain about 
 Judy, over beyant at the ' Cat and Bagpipes,' comin' from 
 the fair ; and I lave you that six shillings and five stone 
 o' mouldy oats that's no use to me, and four broken 
 plates, and that three-legged stool you stood upon to 
 get at the cupboard, you poor nharrough that you are, 
 and the two spoons without handles, and the one cow 
 that's gone back of her milk." 
 
 "What use is the cow, daddy," says little Fairly, 
 "widout land to feed her an?" 
 
 "Maybe it's land you want, you pinkeen" says the big 
 brother. 
 
 "Right, my bully boy," says the mother, "stand up 
 for your own." 
 
 "Well, well," says the owld chap, "I tell you what, 
 big Fairly," says he, " you may as well do a dacent turn 
 for the little chap, and give him grass for his cow. I 
 lave you all the land," says he, "but you'll never miss 
 grass for one cow," says he, "and you'll have the satis- 
 faction of bein' bountiful to your little brother, bad cess 
 to him, for a starved hound as he is." 
 
 But, to make a long story short, the ould chap soon
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 239 
 
 had the puff out iv him ; and whin the wake was over, 
 and that they put him out to grass laid him asleep, 
 snug, with a daisy quilt over him throth that minit the 
 poor little woman and her little offsprig was turned out 
 body and bones, and forced to seek shelter any way 
 they could. 
 
 Well, little Fairly was a 'cute chap, and so he made 
 a little snug place out of the back iv a ditch, and wid 
 moss and rishes and laves and brambles, made his ould 
 mother snug enough, antil he got a little mud cabin 
 built for her, and the cow gev them milk, and the cray- 
 thurs got on purty well, and the big dirty vagabone of 
 a brother began to grudge the cow the bit o' grass, and 
 he ups and says he to little Fairly one day, "What's 
 the raison," says he, "your cow does be threspassin' an 
 my fields?" says he. 
 
 " Sure and wasn't it the last dyin' words o' my father 
 to you," says little Fairly, " that you would let me have 
 grass for my cow?" 
 
 "I don't remember it," says big Fairly the dirty 
 naygur, who was put up to it all by the garran more, 
 his mother. 
 
 "Yiv a short memory," says little Fairly. 
 
 " Yis, but I've a long stick," says the big chap, shakin' 
 it at him at the same time, "and I'd rekimmind you to 
 keep a civil tongue in your head," says he. 
 
 " You're mighty ready to bate your little brother, but 
 would you fight your match?" says little Fairly.
 
 240 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Match or no match, 1 ' says big Fairly, "I'll brake 
 your bones if you give me more o' your prate," says he ; 
 "and I tell you again, don't let your cow be threspassin' 
 an my land, or I warn you that you'll be sorry," and 
 aff he wint. 
 
 Well, little Fairly kept never mindin' him, and brought 
 his cow to graze every day on big Fairly's land ; and the 
 big fellow used to come and " hish " her aff the land, but 
 the cow was as little and 'cute as her masther she was 
 a Kerry cow, and there's a power o' 'cuteness comes out 
 o' Kerry. Well, as I was saying, the cow used to go aff 
 as quite as a lamb; but the minit the big bosthoon 
 used to turn his back, whoo ! my jewel, she used to leap 
 the ditch as clever as a hunther, and back wid her again 
 to graze, and faix good use she made of her time, for 
 she got brave and hearty, and gev a power o' milk, 
 though she was goin' back of it shortly before, but there 
 was a blessin' over litlle Fairly, and all belongin' to him, 
 and all that he put his hand to thruv with him. Well, 
 now I must tell you what big Fairly done and the dirty 
 turn it was ; but the dirt was in him ever and always, 
 and kind mother it was for him. Well, what did he 
 do but he dug pits all through the field where little 
 Fairly's cow used to graze, and he covers them up with 
 branches o' threes and sods, makin' it look fair and even, 
 and all as one as the rest o' the field, and with that he 
 goes to little Fairly, and, says he, " I tould you before," 
 says he, "not to be sendin' your little blackguard cow
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 241 
 
 to threspass on my fields," says he, "and mind I tell 
 you now, that it won't be good for her health to let her 
 go there again, for I tell you she'll come to harm, and 
 it's dead she'll be before long." 
 
 " Well, she may as well die one way as another," says 
 little Fairly, " for sure if she doesn't get grass she must die, 
 and I tell you again, divil an aff your land I'll take my cow." 
 
 "Can't you let your dirty cow graze along the road 
 side?" says big Fairly. 
 
 "Why then, do you think," says little Fairly, answering 
 him mighty smart, " do you think I have so little respect 
 for my father's cow as to turn her out a beggar an the 
 road to get her dinner aff the common highway ? throth 
 111 do no sitch thing." 
 
 " Well, you'll soon see the end iv it," says big Fairly, 
 and aff he wint in great delight, thinkin' how poor little 
 Fairly's cow would be killed. And now wasn't he the 
 dirty, threacherous, black-hearted villain, to take advantage 
 of a poor cow, and lay a thrap for the dumb baste? 
 but whin the dirty dhrop is in it must come out. Well, 
 poor little Fairly sent his cow to graze next mornin', but 
 the poor darlin' craythur fell into one o' the pits and 
 was kilt; and when little Fairly kem for her in the 
 evenin' there she was cowld and stiff, and all he had to 
 do now was to sing drimmin dhu dheelish over her, and 
 dhrag her home as well as he could, wid the help of 
 some neighbours that pitied the craythur, and cursed 
 the big bosthoon that done such a threacherous turn, 
 n. 16
 
 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 Well, little Fairly was the fellow to put the best face 
 upon every thing; and so, instead of givin' in to fret, 
 and makin ' lamentations that would do him no good, by 
 dad, he began to think how he could make the best of 
 what happened, and the little craythur sharpened a knife 
 immediantly, and began to shkin the cow, " and anyhow," 
 says he, "the cow is good mate, and my ould mother 
 and me 'ill have beef for the winther." 
 
 "Thrue for you, little Fairly," said one of the neigh- 
 bours was helpin' him, "and besides, the hide 'ill be 
 good to make soals for your brogues for many a long day." 
 
 " Oh, I'll do betther wid the hide nor that," says little 
 Fairly. 
 
 "Why, what betther can you do nor that wid it?" 
 says the neighbours. 
 
 "Oh, I know myself," says little Fairly, for he was as 
 'cute as a fox, as I said before, and wouldn't tell his 
 saycrets to a stone wall, let alone a companion. And 
 what do you think he done wid the hide ? Guess now 
 throth I'd let you guess from this to Christmas,' and 
 you'd never come inside it. Faix it was the complatest 
 thing ever you heerd. What would you think but he 
 tuk the hide and cut six little holes an partic'lar places 
 he knew av himself, and thin he goes and he gets his 
 mother's fortin, the six shillin's I tould you about, and 
 he hides the six shillin's in the six holes, and away he 
 wint to a fair was convenient, about three days afther, 
 where there was a great sight o' people, and a power
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 243 
 
 o' sellin' and buyiiT, and dhrinkin' and fightin', by 
 course, and why not? 
 
 Well, Fairly ups and he goes right into the very heart 
 o' the fair, an 1 he spread out his hide to the greatest 
 advantage, and he began to cry out (and by the same 
 token, though he was little he had a mighty sharp voice 
 and could be h'ard farther nor a bigger man), well, he began 
 to cry out, " Who wants to buy a hide ? the rale hide 
 the ould original goolden bull's hide that kem from furrin 
 parts who wants to make their fortin' now?" 
 
 " What do you ax for your hide ? says a man to him. 
 
 " Oh, I only want a thrifle for it,"" says Fairly, " seein 
 I'm disthressed for money, at this present writin;" says 
 he, "and by fair or foul manes I must rise the money," 
 says he, "at wanst, for if I could wait, it's not the thrifle 
 I'm axin now I'd take for the hide." 
 
 " By gor you talk," says the man, " as if the hide was 
 worth the King's ransom, and I'm thinkin ' you must have 
 a great want of a few shillin's," says he, " whin the hide 
 is all you have to the fore, to dipind an." 
 
 "Oh, that's all you know about it," says Fairly, 
 " shillin's indeed ; by gor it's handfuls o ' money the hide 
 is worth. Who'll buy a hide? the rale goolden bull's 
 hide!!!" 
 
 " What do you ax for your hide ? " says another man. 
 
 "Only a hundher guineas," says little Fairly. 
 
 "A hundher what?" says the man. 
 
 "A hundher guineas," says Fairly.
 
 244 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " Is it takin ' lave of your siven small sinses you are ? " 
 says the man. 
 
 "Why thin, indeed I^b'lieve I am takin 1 lave o' my 
 sinses sure enough," says Fairly, "to sell my hide so 
 chape." 
 
 " Chape," says the man, " arrah thin, listen to the little 
 mad vagabone," says he to the crowd, that was gother 
 about by this time, "listen to him askin' a hundher 
 guineas for a hide." 
 
 "Aye," says Fairly, "and the well laid out money it 
 'ill be to whoever has the luck to buy it. This is none 
 o 1 your common hides it's the goolden bull's hide the 
 Pope's goolden bull's hide, that kem from furrin parts, 
 and it's a fortune to whoever 'ill have patience to bate 
 his money out iv it." 
 
 "How do you mane?" says a snug ould chap, that 
 was always poachin' about for bargains "I never heard 
 of batin' money out of a hide," says he. 
 
 "Well, then, I'll show you," says Fairly, "and only 
 I'm disthressed for a hundher guineas, that I must have 
 before Monday next," says he, "I wouldn't part widthis 
 hide ; for every day in the week you may thrash a fistful 
 o' shillin's out iv it, if you take pains, as you may see-" 
 And wid that, my jew'l, he ups wid a cudgel he had in 
 his hand, and he began leatherin' awy at the hide; and 
 he hits it in the place he knew himself, and out jump'd 
 one o' the shillin's he hid here. "Hurroo!" says little 
 Fairly, " darlint you wor, you never desaived me yet ! ! "
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 245 
 
 and away he thrashed agin, and out jumped another shillin'. 
 "That's your sort!" says Fairly, "the devil a sitch wages 
 any o' yiz ever got for thrashin' as this" and then 
 another whack, and away wid another shillin'. 
 
 "Stop, stop!" says the ould cravin' chap, "I'll give 
 you the money for the hide," says he, "if you'll let me 
 see can I bate money out iv it." And wid that he began 
 to thrash the hide, and, by course, another shillin' 
 jumped out. 
 
 "Oh! it's yourself has the rale twist in your elbow for 
 it," says Fairly; "and I see by that same, that you're 
 above the common, and desarvin' of my favour." 
 
 Well, my dear, at the word "desarvin' o' my favour," 
 the people that was gother round, (for by this time all 
 the fair a'most was there,) began to look into the rights 
 o' the thing, and, one and all, they agreed that little 
 Fairly was one o' the 'good people;' for if he wasn't a 
 fairy, how could he do the like? and, besides, he was 
 sitch a dawnshee craythur they thought what else could 
 he be? and says they to themselves, "That ould divil, 
 Mulligan, it's the likes iv him id have the luck iv it; 
 and let alone all his gains in this world, and his scrapin' 
 and screwin', and it's the fairies themselves must come to 
 help him, as if he wasn't rich enough before." Well, the 
 ould chap paid down a hundher guineas in hard goold 
 to little Fairly, and aff he wint wid his bargain. 
 
 "The divil do you good wid it," says one, grudgin' 
 it to him.
 
 246 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 " What business has he wid a hide ? " says another, 
 jealous of the ould fellow's luck. 
 
 "Why not? 11 says another, "sure he'd shkin a flint 
 any day, and why woukhrt he shkin a cow? 11 
 
 Well, the owld codger wint home as plased as Punch 
 wid his bargain; and indeed little Fairly had no raison 
 not to be satisfied, for, in throth, he got a good price 
 for the hide, considherin 1 the markets wasn ? t so high 
 thin as they are now, by rayson of the staymers, that 
 makes gintlemin av the pigs, sendin 1 them an their 
 thravels to furrin parts, so that a rasher o 1 bacon in 
 poor Ireland is gettin 1 scarce even on a Aisther Sunday. 65 
 
 You may be sure the poor owld mother of little Fairly 
 was proud enough whin she seen him tumble out the 
 hard goold an the table forninst her, and "my darlint 
 you wor, 11 says she, "an 1 how did you come by that 
 sight o 1 goold? 11 
 
 "Fll tell you another time, 11 says little Fairly, "but 
 you must set aff to my brother's now, and ax him to 
 lind me the loan av his scales. 11 
 
 "Why, what do you want wid a scales, honey? 11 says 
 the owld mother. 
 
 "Oh! Fll tell you that another time too, 11 says little 
 Fairly, "but be aff now, and don't let the grass grow 
 undher your feet. 11 
 
 Well, aff wint the owld woman, and maybe you'd 
 want to know yourself what it was Fairly wanted wid 
 the scales. Why, thin, he only wanted thim just for to
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 247 
 
 make big Fairly curious about the matther, that he 
 might play him a thrick, as you'll see by-an-by. 
 
 Well, the little owld woman wasn't long in bringin' 
 back the scales, and whin she gave them to little Fairly, 
 "There, now," says he, "sit down beside the fire, and 
 there's a new pipe for you, and a quarther o' tobaccy, 
 that I brought home for you from the fair, and do you 
 make yourself comfortable," says he, "till I come back;" 
 and out he wint, and sat down behind a ditch, to watch 
 if big Fairly was comin' to the house, for he thought 
 the curosity o' the big gommoch and the garran mare 
 would make them come down to spy about the place, 
 and see what he wanted wid the scales ; and, sure enough, 
 he wasn't there long when he seen them both crassin' 
 a style hard by, and in he jumped into the gripe o' the 
 ditch, and run along under the shelter o' the back av 
 it, and whipped into the house, and spread all his goold 
 out an the table, and began to weigh it in the scales. 
 
 But he wasn't well in, whin the cord o" the latch was 
 dhrawn, and in marched big Fairly and the garran 
 more, his mother, without " by your lave," or " God save 
 you," for they had no breedin' at all. Well, my jewel, 
 the minit they clapped their eyes an the goold, you'd 
 think the sight id lave their eyes; and indeed not only 
 their eyes, let alone, but their tongues in their heads 
 was no use to thim, for the divil a word either o' them 
 could spake for beyant a good five minutes. So, all that 
 time, little Fairly kept never mindin' them, but wint
 
 248 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 an a weighin' the goold, as busy as a nailor, and at last, 
 whin the big brute kem to his speech, "Why, thin," 
 says he, "what's that I see you doin'?" says he. 
 
 "Oh, it's only divartin' myself I am," says little Fairly, 
 "thryin' what weight o' goold I got for my goods at 
 the fair," says he. 
 
 "Your goods indeed," says the big chap, "I suppose 
 you robbed some honest man an the road, you little 
 vagabone," says he. 
 
 " Oh, I'm too little to rob any one," says little Fairly. 
 "I'm not a fine big able fellow, like you, to do that 
 same." "Thin how did you come by the goold?" says 
 the big savage. "I towld you before, by sellin' my 
 goods," says the little fellow. "Why, what goods have 
 you, you poor unsignified little brat?" says big Fairly, 
 "you never had any thing but your poor beggarly cow, 
 and she's dead." 
 
 " Throth, then, she is dead ; and more by token, 'twas 
 yourself done for her, complate, anyhow ; and I'm behoulden 
 to you for that same, the longest day I have to live, 
 for it was the makin' o' me. You wor ever and always 
 the good brother to me ; and never more than whin you 
 killed my cow, for it's the makin' o' me. The divil a 
 rap you see here I'd have had if my cow was alive, for 
 I wint to the fair to sell her hide, brakin' my heart to 
 think that it was only a poor hide I had to sell, and 
 wishin' it was a cow was to the fore; but, my dear, 
 whin I got there, there was no ind to the demand for
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 249 
 
 hides, and the divil a one, good, bad, or indifferent, was 
 there but my own, and there was any money for hides, 
 and so I got a hundher guineas for it, and there 
 they are." 
 
 "Why thin, do you tell me so?" says the big chap. 
 
 " Divil a lie in it," says little Fairly : " I got a hundher 
 guineas for the hide. Oh, I wish I had another cow for 
 you to kill for me, throth would I ! " 
 
 "Come home, mother," says big Fairly, without sayin' 
 another word, and away he wint home, and what do you 
 think he done but he killed every individyal cow he had, 
 and "By gor," says he, "it's the rich man Til be when 
 I get a hundher guineas apiece for all their hides," and 
 accordingly aff he wint to the next fair, hard by, and he 
 brought a car load o' hides, and began to call out in the 
 fair, "Who wants the hides? here's the chape hides 
 only a hundher guineas apiece ! " 
 
 " Oh, do you hear that vagabone that has the assurance 
 to come chatin' the country again?" says some people 
 that was convaynient, and that heerd o' the doin's at 
 the other fair, and how the man was chated by a 
 skeveen vagabone "and think of him, to have the im- 
 pudence to come here, so nigh the place to take in uz 
 now ! But we'll be even wid him," says they ; and so 
 they went up to him, and says they to the thievin' rogue, 
 " Honest man," says they, " what's that you have to sell ? " 
 " Hides," says he. 
 
 "What do you ax for them?" says they.
 
 250 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "A hundher and ten guineas apiece," says he for he 
 was a greedy crathur, and thought he never could have 
 enough. 
 
 "Why you riz the price on them since the last time, 11 
 says they. 
 
 "[Oh these are betther, 11 says big Fairly ; " but I don't 
 mind if I sell them for a hundher a-piece, if you give 
 me the money down, 11 says he. 
 
 "You shall be ped an the spot, 11 says they and with 
 that they fell an him, and thrasfrd him like a shafe, till 
 they didn^ lave a spark o 1 sinse in him, and then they 
 left him, say in 1 , " Are you ped now, my boy ? faix, youll 
 be a warnin 1 to all rogues for the futhur, how they come 
 to fairs, chatin 1 honest min out o 1 their money, wid cock- 
 and-bull stories about their hides but in throth I think 
 your own hide isn't much the better of the tannin 1 it 
 got to day faix, an 1 it was the rale oak bark 66 was put 
 to it, and thatfs the finest tan stuff in the world, and I 
 think it'ill sarve you for the rest o 1 your life. 11 And 
 with that they left him for dead. 
 
 But you may remark, ifs hardher to kill a dirty noxious 
 craythur than any thing good, and so with big Fairly 
 he conthrived to get home, and his vagabone mother 
 sawdhered him up afther a manner, and the minit he 
 was come to his sthrenth at all, he detarmint to be 
 revenged on little Fairly for what he had done, and so 
 aff he set to catch him while he'd be at brekquest, and 
 he bowlted into the cabin wid a murtherin 1 shilklah in
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 251 
 
 his fist and "Oh,"" says he, "you little mischievious mis- 
 crayant," says he, " what made you ruinate me by makin' 
 me kill my cows?" says he. 
 
 "Sure I didn't bid you kill your cows," says little 
 Fairly and that was all thrue, for you see, there was 
 the 'cuteness o' the little chap, for he didn't bid him kill 
 them sure enough, but let an in that manner that 
 deludhered the big fool, and sure divil mind him. 
 
 "Yes, you did bid me," says big Fairly, "or all as 
 one as bid me, and I haven't a cow left, and my bones 
 is bruk all along o' your little jacTceen manyewvers, you 
 onlooky sprat that you are, but by this and that I'll 
 have my revinge o' you now," and with that he fell an 
 him and was goin' to murther poor little Fairly, only he 
 run undher a stool, and kept tiggin' about from one place 
 to th' other, that the big botch couldn't get a right 
 offer at him at all, and at last the little owld mother 
 got up to put a stop to the ruction, but if she did, my 
 jew'l, it was the unlooky minit for her, for, by dad, she 
 kem in for a chance tap o' the cudgel that big Fairly 
 was weltin' away with, and you know there's an owld 
 sayin, "a chance shot may kill the divil," and why not 
 an owld woman? 
 
 Well, that put an end to the scrimmage, for the 
 phillikw that little Fairly set up whin he seen his ould 
 mother kilt, would ha' waked the dead, and the big chap 
 got frekened himself, and says little Fairly, "By gor, if 
 there's law to be had," says he, "and I think I have a
 
 252 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 chance o' justice, now that I have money to spare, and, 
 if there's law in the land, I'll have you in the body o' 
 the jail afore to-morrow, 11 says he ; and wid that the big 
 chap got cowed, and wint off like a dog without his 
 tail, and so poor little Fairly escaped bein' murthered 
 that offer, and was left to cry over his mother, an 1 indeed 
 the craythur was sorry enough, and he brought in the 
 neighbours and gev the ould woman a dacent wake, and 
 there was few pleasanther evenin's that night in the county 
 than the same wake, for Fairly was mighty fond of his 
 mother, and faix, he done the thing ginteely by her, and 
 good raison he had, for she was the good mother to him 
 while she was alive, and by dad, by his own 'cuteness, he 
 conthrived she should be the useful mother to him afther 
 she was dead too. For what do you think he done ? Oh ! 
 by the Piper o' Blessintown you'd never guess, if you 
 wor guessin' from this to Saint Tib's eve, and that falls 
 neither before nor afther Christmas we all know. Well, 
 there's no use guessin', so I must tell you. You see the 
 ould mother was a nurse to the Squire that lived hard 
 by, and so, by coorse, she had a footin' in the house any 
 day in the week she pleased, and used often to go over 
 to see the Squire's childhre, for she was as fond o' them 
 a'most as if she nursed thim too ; and so what does Fairly 
 do but he carried over the ould mother, stiff as she was 
 and dhressed in her best, and he stole in, unknownst, 
 into the Squire's garden, and he propped up the dead 
 ould woman, stan'in, hard by a well was in the gardin,
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 253 
 
 wid her face forninst the gate, and her back to the well, 
 and wid that he wint into the house, and made out the 
 childhre, and says he, " God save you, Masther Tommy," 
 says he, "God save you, Masther Jimmy, Miss Matty, 
 and Miss Molshee," says he, "an' I'm glad to see you 
 well, and sure there's the old Mammy nurse come to see 
 yiz, childhre," says he, "and she's down by the well in 
 the garden, and she has gingerbread for yiz," says he, 
 "and whoever o' yiz runs to her first 'ill get the most 
 gingerbread; and I'd rekimmind yiz to lose no time but 
 run a race and sthrive who'll win the gingerbread." Well, 
 my dear, to be sure, aff set the young imps, runnin' and 
 screechin', " Here I am, mammy nurse ! here I am ! "and 
 they wor brakin' their necks a'most, to see who'd be 
 there first, and wid that, they run wid sitch voylence, 
 that the first o' thim run whack up agin the poor ould 
 woman's corpse, and threwn it over plump into the middle 
 o' the well. To be sure the childhre was frekened, as 
 well they might, and back agin they ran, as fast as they 
 kem, roarin' murdher, and they riz the house in no time, 
 and little Fairly was among the first to go see what was 
 the matther, (by the way) and he set up a hullagvrie, my 
 jewel, that ud split the heart of a stone; and out kem 
 the Squire and his wife, and "What's the matther?" 
 says they. "Is it what's the matther?" says Fairly, 
 "don't yiz see my lovely ould mother is dhrowned by 
 these divil's imps o' childhre?" says he, "oh Masther 
 Jimmy, is that the way you thrated the poor ould mammy
 
 254 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 nurse, to go dhrownd her like a rat afther that manner?" 
 " Oh, the childhre didn't intind it," said the Squire. " I'm 
 sorry for your mother, Fairly, but " 
 
 "But what?" says little Fairly, "sorry in throth and 
 I'll make you sorry, for I'll rise the counthry, or I'll get 
 justice for sitch an unnath'ral murther; and whoever 
 done it must go to jail, if it was even Miss Molshee 
 herself." 
 
 Well, the Squire did not like the matther to go to 
 that, and so says he, "Oh, I'll make it worth your 
 while to say nothing about it, Fairly, and here's twenty 
 goolden guineas for you," says he. 
 
 "Why thin, do you think me such a poor-blooded 
 craythur, as to sell my darlin' ould mother's life for 
 twenty guineas ? No in throth, tho' if you wor to make 
 it fifty I might be talkin' to you." 
 
 Well, the Squire thought it was a dear mornin's work, 
 and that he had very little for his money in a dead 
 ould woman, but sooner than have the childhre get into 
 throuble and have the matther made a blowin' horn of, 
 he gev him the fifty guineas, and the ould mother was 
 dhried and waked over agin, so that she had greather 
 respect ped to her than a Lord or a Lady. So you see 
 what cleverness and a janius for 'cuteness does. 
 
 Well, away he wint home afther the ould woman was 
 buried, wid his fifty guineas snug in his pocket, and so 
 he wint to big Fairly's to ax for the loan of the scales 
 once more, and the brother ax'd him for what. "Oh,
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 255 
 
 it's only a small thrifle more o' goold I have," says the 
 little chap, "that I want to weigh."" 
 
 "Is it more goold ?" says big Fairly, "why, it's a folly 
 to talk, but you must be either a robber or a coiner to 
 come by money so fast." 
 
 "Oh, this is only a thrifle I kem by the death o' my 
 mother," 11 says little Fairly. 
 
 "Why, bad luck to the rap she had to lave you, any 
 way," says the big chap. 
 
 "I didn't say she left me a fortin," says little Fairly. 
 
 "You said you kem by the money by your mother's 
 death," says the big brother. 
 
 "Well, an' that's thrue,' 1 says the little fellow, "an' 
 I'll tell you how it was. You see, afther you killed her, 
 I thought I might as well make the most I could of 
 her, and says I to myself faix, and I had great good luck 
 wid the cow he killed for me, and why wouldn't I get 
 more for my mother nor a cow? and so away I wint to 
 the town, and I offered her to the docthor there, and 
 he was greatly taken wid her, and, by dad, he wouldn't 
 let me lave the house without sellin' her to him, and 
 faix, he gev me fifty guineas for her." 
 
 " Is it fifty guineas for a corpse ? " 
 " It's thruth I'm tellin' you, and was much obleeged 
 into the bargain, and the raison is, you see, that there's 
 no sitch thing to be had, for love or money, as a dead 
 ould woman there's no killin' them at all at all, so 
 that a dead ould woman is quite a curosity."
 
 256 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "Well, there's the scales for you,"" says big Fairly, 
 and away the little chap wint to weigh his goold (as he 
 let on) as he did before. But what would you think, 
 my dear throth you'll hardly blieve me whin I tell you. 
 Little Fairly hadn't well turned his back, whin the big 
 savage wint into the house where his ould mother was, 
 and tuck up a rapin' hook and kilt her an the spot 
 divil a lie in it. Oh, no wondher you look cruked at 
 the thoughts of it; but it's morially thrue, faix he cut 
 the life out iv her, and he detarmined to turn in his 
 harvist, for that same, as soon as he could, and so away 
 he wint to the docthor in the town hard by, where little 
 Fairly towld him he sowld his mother, and he knocked 
 at the door and walked into the hall with a sack on his 
 shouldher, and settin' down the sack, he said he wanted 
 to spake to the docthor. Well, when the docthor kem, 
 and heerd the vagabone talkin' of fifty guineas for an 
 owld woman, he began to laugh at him ; but whin he 
 opened the sack, and seen how the poor owld craythur 
 was murthered, he set up a shout." Oh, you vagabone!" 
 says he, "you sack-im-up 67 villain!" says he, "you've 
 Burked M the woman," says he, " and now you come to 
 rape the fruits o' your murdher." Well, the minit big 
 Fairly heerd the word murdher, and rapin' the reward, 
 he thought the docthor was up to the way of it, and 
 he got frekened, and with that the docthor opened the 
 hall-door and called the watch, but Fairly bruk loose 
 from him, and ran away home; and when once he was
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 257 
 
 gone, the docthor thought there would be no use in rising 
 a ruction about it, and so he shut the door, and never 
 minded the police. Big Fairly, to be sure, was so frekened, 
 he never cried stop, antil he got clean outside the town, 
 and with that, the first place he wint to was little 
 Fairly's house, and, burstin' in the door, he said, in a 
 tarin' passion, "What work is this you have been at 
 now, you onlooky miscrayint ? " says he. 
 
 " I haven't been at any work," says little Fairly, ** See, 
 yourself," says he, " my sleeves is new," says he, howldin' 
 out the cuffs av his coat to him at the same time, to 
 show him. 
 
 " Don't think to put me aff that-a-way with your little 
 Jcimmeens, and your divartin' capers," says the big chap, 
 " for I tell you I'm in airnest, and it's no jokin' matther 
 it 'ill be to you, for by this an that, I'll have the life 
 o' you, you little spidhogue of an abortion, as you are, 
 you made me kill my cows. Don't say a word, for you 
 know it's thrue." 
 
 "I never made you kill your cows," says little Fairly, 
 no ways danted by the fierce looks o' the big bosthoon. 
 
 "Whisht! you vagabone!" says the big chap. "You 
 didn't bid me do it, out o' the face, in plain words, but 
 you made me sinsible." 
 
 " Faix, an' that was doin' a wondher," says little Fairly, 
 who couldn't help havin' the laugh at him, though he 
 was sore afeard. 
 
 "Bad luck to you, you little sneerin' vagabone," says 
 n. 17
 
 258 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 the big chap again, "I know what you mane, you long- 
 headed shkamer, that you are; but by my sowl, your 
 capers 'ill soon be cut short, as you'll see to your cost. 
 But, before I kill you, I'll show you, to your face, the 
 villian that you are, and it is no use your endayvourin' 
 to consale your bad manners to me, for if you had a veil 
 as thick as the shield of Ajax, which was made o' 
 siven bull hides, it would not sarve for to cover the 
 half o' your inni quitties." 69 
 
 " Whoo ! that's the ould schoolmasther's speech you're 
 puttin' an us now," says little Fairly, " and faith, it's the 
 only thing you iver lamed, I b'lieve, from him." 
 
 " Yis, I larned how fine a thing it is to whop a little 
 chap less than myself, and you'll see, with a blessin', how 
 good a scholar I am at that same; and you desarve it, 
 for I towld you just now, before you intherrupted me, 
 how you made me kill all my cows, (and that was the 
 sore loss,) and afther that, whin you could do no more, 
 you made me kill my mother, and divil a good it done 
 me, but nigh-hand got me into the watch-house; and so 
 now I'm detarmint you won't play me any more thricks, 
 for I'll hide you, snug, in the deepest boghole, in the 
 Bog of Allen, and if you throuble me afther that, faix 
 I think it 'ill be the wondher;" and with that he made 
 a grab at the little chap, and while you'd be sayin' 
 "thrap stick," he cotch him, and put him, body and 
 bones, into a sack, and he threwn the sack over the back 
 of a horse was at the door, and away he wint in a tarin'
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 259 
 
 rage, straight for the Bog of Allen. Well, to be sure, 
 he couldn't help stoppin' at a public-house, by the road- 
 side, for he was dhry with the rage : an" 1 he tuk the sack 
 where little Fairly was tied up, and he lifted it aff o' 
 the horse, an' put it standin' up beside the door goin' 
 into the public-house; an' he wasn't well gone in, whin 
 a farmer was comin' by too, and he was as dhry wid the 
 dust, as ever big Fairly was with the rage, (an indeed 
 it's wondherful how aisy it is to make a man dhry ;) and 
 so, as he was goin' in, he sthruck agin the sack that 
 little Fairly was in, and little Fairly gev a groan that 
 you'd think kem from the grave; and says he, (from 
 inside o' the sack,) "God forgive you," says he. 
 
 " Who's there ? " says the farmer, startin', and no wondher. 
 
 " It's me," says little Fairly, " and may the Lord forgive 
 you," says he, " for you have disturbed me, and I half-way 
 to heaven." 
 
 "Why, who are you at all?" says the farmer. "Are 
 you a man?" says he. 
 
 "I am a man, now," says little Fairly, "though, if 
 you didn't disturb me, I'd have been an angel of glory 
 in less than no time," says he. 
 
 "How do you make that out, honest man?" says the 
 farmer. 
 
 " I can't explain it to you," says little Fairly, " for it's 
 a mysthery ; but what I tell you is thruth," says he, 
 "and I tell you that, whoever is in this sack at this 
 
 present," says he, " is as good as halfway to heav'n, and 
 n. IT
 
 260 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 indeed I thought I was there, a'most, only you sthruck 
 agin me, an' disturbed me." 
 
 "An 1 do you mane for to say, 1 ' says the farmer, "that 
 whoiver is in that sack will go to heaven ? " 
 
 "Faix, they are on their road there, at all events," 
 says little Fairly, "and if they lose their way, it's their 
 own fault." 
 
 "Oh thin," says the farmer, "maybe you'd let me get 
 into the sack along wid you, for to go to heaven too." 
 
 " Oh, the horse that's to bring us doesn't carry double," 
 says little Fairly. 
 
 "Well, will you let me get into the sack instead iv 
 you?" says the farmer. 
 
 "Why, thin, do you think I'd let any one take sitch 
 a dirty advantage o' me as to go to heaven afore me ? " 
 says little Fairly. 
 
 "Oh, I'll make it worth your while," says the farmer. 
 
 " Why, thin, will you ontie the sack," says little Fairly, 
 "and jist let me see who it is that has the impidince to 
 ax me to do the like." And with that, the farmer ontied 
 the sack, and little Fairly popped out his head. "Why 
 thin, do you think," says he, " that a hanga-bone-lookin' 
 thief, like you, has a right to go to heaven afore me?" 
 
 "Oh," says the farmer, "I've been a wicked sinner in 
 my time, and I havn't much longer to live; and, to tell 
 you the thruth, I'd be glad to get to heaven in that 
 sack, if it's thrue what you tell me." 
 
 "Why," says little Fairly, "don't you know it is by
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 261 
 
 sackcloth and ashes that the faithful see the light o* glory." 
 
 "Thrue for you indeed," says the fanner. "Oh nmrther, 
 let me get in there, and Fll make it worth your while." 
 
 " How do you make that out ? " says little Fairly. 
 
 " Why, I'll give you five hundher guineas," says the 
 fanner, "and I think that's a power o 1 money." 
 
 "But what's a power o 1 money compared to heaven?" 
 says little Fairly; "and do you think Fd sell my sowl 
 for five hundher guineas?" 
 
 "Well, there's five hundher more in an owld stockin 1 
 in the oak box, in the cabin by the crassroads, at Dhrums- 
 nookie, for I am owld Tims o" Dhrumsnookie, and you'll 
 inherit all I have, if you consint." 
 
 " But what's a thousand guineas compared to heaven ? " 
 says little Fairly. 
 
 "Well, do you see all them heads o' cattle there?" says 
 the farmer. "I have just dhruv them here from Bal- 
 linasloe," says he, " and every head o' cattle you see here, 
 shall be yours also, if you let me into that sack, that 
 I may go to heaven instead o 1 you." 
 
 "Oh think o 1 my poor little sowl," says Fairly. 
 
 " Tut, man," says the farmer, " Fve twice as big a sowl 
 as you; and besides, Fm owld, and you're young, and I 
 have no time to spare, and you may get absolution aisy, 
 and make your pace in good time." 
 
 "Well," says little Fairly, "I feel for you," says he, 
 " an' Fm half inclined to let you overpersuade me to have 
 your will o 1 me."
 
 262 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 "That^s a jewel, 11 says the farmer. 
 
 "But make haste, 11 says little Fairly, "for I don't 
 know how soon you might get a refusal. 11 
 
 " Let me in at wanst, 11 says the farmer. So, my dear, 
 Fairly got out, and the farmer got in, and the little chap 
 tied him up; and says he to the farmer, "There will be 
 great norations made agin you, all the way you're goin 1 
 along; and you 1 !! hear o 1 your sins over and over agin, 
 and you 1 !! hear o 1 things you never done at all, 11 says little 
 Fairly, "but never say a word, or you won't go where 
 I was goin 1 . Oh! why did I let you persuade me?" 
 
 "Lord reward you! 1 ' says the poor farmer. 
 
 "And your conscience will be sthreckin 1 you all the 
 time, 11 says little Fairly; "and you'll think a'most it's a 
 stick is sthrekin 1 you, but you mustn't let an, nor say 
 a word, but pray inwardly in the sack. 11 
 
 "I'll not forget," says the farmer. 
 
 'Oh! you'll be reminded of it," says Fairly, "for youVe 
 a bad conscience I know; and the seven deadly sins will 
 be goin 1 your road, and keepin 1 you company, and every 
 now and then they 1 !! be puttin 1 their comether an you, 
 and callin 1 you 'brother, 1 but don't let on to know them 
 at all, for they'll be mislay din' you, and just do you keep 
 quite and you'll see the ind iv it." Well, just at that 
 minit little Fairly heerd big Fairly com in', and away he 
 run and hid inside iv a churn was dhryin 1 at the ind o 1 
 the house; and big Fairly lifted the sack was standin 1 
 at the door, and feelin 1 it more weighty nor it was before,
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 263 
 
 he said, "Troth, I think you're growin' heavy with grief; 
 but here goes, anyhow," and, with that, he hoist it up 
 on the horse's back, an' away he wint to the bog iv Allen. 
 Now, you see, big Fairly, like every blackguard that 
 has the bad blood in him, the minit he had the sup o' 
 dhrink in, the dirty turn kem out : and so, as he wint 
 along he began to wollop the poor baste, and the sack 
 where his little brother was (as he thought, the big fool), 
 and to gibe, and jeer him for his divarshin. But the 
 poor farmer did as little Fairly towld him, an' never a 
 word he said at all, though he couldn't help roaring out 
 every now and thin, when he felt the soft ind of big 
 Fairly's shillelah across his backbone; and sure the poor 
 fool thought it was his bad conscience and the seven 
 deadly sins was tazin' him; but he wouldn't answer a 
 word for all that, though the big savage was aggravatin' 
 him every fut o' the road antil they kem to the bog; 
 and whin he had him there, faix, he wasn't long in 
 choosin' a bog hole for him and, my jew'l, in he popped 
 the poor farmer neck and heels, sack and all ; and as the 
 soft bog stuff and muddy wather closed over him, "I 
 wish you a safe journey to the bottom, young man," says 
 the big brute, grinnin' like a cat at a cheese, "and as 
 clever a chap as you are, I don't think you'll come back 
 out o' that in a hurry ; and it's throubled I was wid you 
 long enough, you little go-the-ground schkamer, but Til 
 have a quiet life for the futhur." And wid that he got 
 up an his horse, and away he wint home; but he had
 
 264 LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND 
 
 not gone over a mile, or there-away, whin who should 
 he see but little Fairly mounted on the farmer's horse, 
 dhrivin' the biggest dhrove o' black cattle you ever seen ; 
 and, by dad, big Fairly grewn as white as a sheet whin 
 he clapt his eyes an him, for he thought it was not him- 
 self at all was in it, but his ghost ; and he was goin' to 
 turn and gallop off, whin little Fairly called out to him 
 to stay, for that he wanted to speak to him. So whin 
 he seen it was himself, he wondhered, to be sure, and 
 small blame to him and says he, "Well, as 'cute as I 
 knew you wor, by gor, this last turn o' yours bates 
 Banagher 70 and how the divil are you here at all, whin 
 I thought you wor cuttin' turf wid your sharp little nose, 
 in the bog of Allen? for I'll take my affidowndavy, I 
 put you into the deepest hole in it, head foremost, not 
 half an hour agon." 
 
 "Throth you did, sure enough," says little Fairly, "and 
 you wor ever and always the good brother to me, as I 
 often said before, but, by dad, you never done rightly for 
 me antil to-day, but you have made me up now in airnest." 
 
 "How do you mane?" says big Fairly. 
 
 "Why, do you see all this cattle here I'm dhrivin?" 
 says little Fairly. 
 
 " Yes, I do ; and whose cattle are they ? " 
 
 "They're all my own every head o' them." 
 
 " An' how did you come by them ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, when you threwn me into the boghole, 
 I felt it mighty cowld at first, and it was mortial dark,
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 265 
 
 and I felt myself goin' down and down, that I thought 
 I'd never stop sinking, and wondhered if there was any 
 bottom to it at all ; and at last I began to feel it growin' 
 warm, and pleasant, and light, and whin I kern to the bottom, 
 there was the loveliest green field you ever clapped your 
 eyes on, and thousands upon thousands o' cattle feedin' 
 and the grass so heavy that they wor up to their ears 
 in it it's thruth I'm tellin' you O, divil sitch meadows 
 I ever seen, and whin I kem to myself, for indeed I was 
 rather surprised, and thought it was dhramin I was 
 whin I kem to myself, I was welkim'd by a very ginteel 
 spoken little man, the dawnshiest craythur you ever seen, 
 by dad, I'd have made six iv him, myself, and says he, 
 'You're welkim to the undher story o' the Bog iv Allen, 
 Fairly.' 'Thank you kindly, sir,' says I. 'And how is 
 all wid you?' says he. 'Hearty indeed,' says I. 'And 
 what brought you here?' says he. 'My big brother,' 
 says I. 'That was very good iv him,' says he. 'Thrue 
 for you, sir,' says I. 'He is always doin' me a good 
 turn,' says I. ' Oh then he never done you half so good 
 a turn as this,' says he; 'for you'll be the richest man 
 in Ireland soon.' ' Thank you, sir,' says I ; ' but I don't 
 see how.' 'Do you see all them cattle grazin' there?' 
 says he. 'To be sure I do,' says I. 'Well,' says he, 
 'take as many o' them as your heart desires, and bring 
 them home wid you.' 'Why sure,' says I, 'how could 
 I get back, myself, up out of the boghole, let alone 
 dhraggin' bullocks afther me?' 'Oh,' says he, 'the way
 
 is aisy enough, for you have nothin' to do but dhrive 
 them out the back way over there,' says he, pointin' to 
 a gate. And sure enough, my darlint, I got all the 
 bastes you see here, and dhruv them out, and here I 
 am goin' home wid 'em, and maybe I won't be the rich 
 man av coorse I gev the best o' thanks to the little 
 owld man, and gev him the hoighth o' good language 
 for his behavor. And with that, says he, 'You may 
 come back again, and take the rest o' them,' says he 
 and faix, sure enough I'll go back the minit I get these 
 bastes home, and have another turn out o' the boghole." 
 
 " Faix, and I'll be beforehand wid you," says big Fairly. 
 
 "Oh, but you shan't," says little Fairly; "it was I 
 discovered the place, and why shouldn't I have the good 
 iv it?" 
 
 "You greedy little hound," says the big fellow, "I'll 
 have my share o' them as well as you." And with that 
 he turned about his horse, and away he galloped to the 
 boghole, and the little fellow galloped afther him, pur- 
 tendin' to be in a desperate fright, afeard the other would 
 get there first, and he cried "Stop the robber!" afther 
 him, and whin he came to the soft place in the bog, 
 they both lit, and little Fairly got before the big fellow, 
 and purtended to be makin' for the boghole, in a 
 powerful hurry, cryin' out as he passed him, "I'll win 
 the day! I'll win the day!" and the big fellow pulled 
 fut afther him as hard as he could, and hardly a 
 puff left in him he run to that degree, and he was
 
 LITTLE FAIRLY 267 
 
 afeared that little Fairly would bate him and get all 
 the cattle, and he was wishin' for a gun that he might 
 shoot him, whin the 'cute little divil, just as he kem 
 close to the edge o' the boghole, let an that his fut 
 slipped and he fell down, cryin' out, "Fair play! fair 
 play! wait till I rise!" but the words wasn't well out of 
 his mouth whin the big fellow kem up. "Oh, the divil 
 a wait," says he, and he made one desperate dart at the 
 boghole, and jumped into the middle of it. "Huurroo!!" 
 says little Fairly, gettin' an his legs agin and runnin 1 
 over to the edge o' the boghole, and just as he seen the 
 great splaw feet o' the big savage sinkin' into the sludge, 
 he called afther him, and says he, "I say, big Fairly, 
 don't take all the cattle, but lave a thrifle for me. I'll 
 wait, however, till you come back," says the little rogue, 
 laughin' at his own 'cute conthrivance, " and I think now 
 I'll lade a quiet life," says he; and with that he wint 
 home, and from that day out he grewn richer and richer 
 every day, and was the greatest man in the whole counthry 
 side ; and all the neighbours gev in to him that he was 
 the most knowledgeable man in thim parts, but they all 
 thought it was quare that his name should be Fairly, 
 for it was agreed, one and all, that he was the biggest 
 rogue out, barrin' Balfe, the robber. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 NOTES 
 
 NOTE 1. 
 
 Barny O'Reirdon. This story first appeared in one of the early 
 numbers of the Dublin University Magazine, 1833, then edited by the 
 Rev. Dr. Stanford, an uncle of the eminent composer of the present day. 
 It was accompanied by an etching by Lover. 
 
 NOTE 2. 
 
 Sir Crustyphiz Wran. Sir Christopher Wren, but how Barney came 
 to connect him with Columbus is a mystery. 
 
 NOTE 8. 
 
 Aysthem Ingees ann Ingineers. Eastern Indies and Indians. 
 
 NOTE 4. 
 
 Blessed beU. There is a relic in the possession of the Macnamara 
 family, in the county Clare, called "the blessed bell of the Macnamaras," 
 sometimes used to swear upon in cases ef extreme urgency, in preference 
 to the Testament ; for a violation of truth, when sworn upon the " blessed 
 bell," is looked upon by the peasantry as a sacrilege, placing the offender 
 beyond the pale of salvation. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 5. 
 
 Imperial quart. Until the assimilation of currency, weights and meas- 
 ures between England and Ireland, the Irish quart was a smaller measure 
 than the English. This part of the assimilation pleased Pat exceedingly, 
 and he has no anxiety to have that repealed. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 6. 
 
 Gossoon. A boy, probably from the French garfon. 
 NOTE 7. 
 
 Fingal Fingal is situated in the northern part of the County of 
 Dublin and is very historic ground. Part of the city of Dublin now 
 runs into it, and it includes a coast-line of many miles. For its his- 
 torical associations see "Fingal and its Churches" by the Rev. Robert 
 Walsh, M.A. 
 
 NOTE 8. 
 
 Connaught man. This is an allusion of Barny's to a saying prevalent 
 in Ireland. When a sportsman returns home unsuccessful, they say, "So
 
 270 NOTES 
 
 you've killed what the Connaught man shot at." Besides, the people 
 of Munster have a profound contempt for Connaught men. 
 
 (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 9. 
 Ladie shoes. Some offer Barny is making at latitudes. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 10. 
 
 Lumbago. Barny means an embargo. 
 NOTE 11. 
 
 Curse of Crummil. Cromwell's name is held in such detestation 
 among the peasantry that " the curse of Crummil on you " is one of his 
 most dreaded imprecations. 
 
 NOTE 12. 
 
 Appraisers. The crop being often valued in a green state in Ireland, 
 the appraiser sometimes becomes a very obnoxious person. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 13. 
 
 Sot. Botany Bay, the convict settlement. 
 NOTE 14. 
 
 'Scure. A common phrase among the peasant class. It is a compres- 
 sion of "devil's cure," a favourite expletive. 
 
 NOTE 15. 
 
 Ninety-Eight. In rural Ireland few people took note of dates. Events 
 were counted from certain other events of magnitude. In this case the 
 year is named, because everybody in Ireland had it indelibly impressed 
 upon their memory, but reference is frequently made to "the year of 
 the rebellion," " the year of the great famine," and even " the year of 
 the big wind," e. g., 1839, when a terrible storm swept over Ireland. 
 
 NOTE 16. 
 
 Patron or Pattern. A saint's day, when a festival or fair is held. 
 NOTE 17. 
 
 Keeners. Keeners are persons who sing the ulican or death wail, 
 round the coffin of the deceased, and repeat the good deeds of the de- 
 parted. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 18. 
 
 Pulling foot. Pull-foot is a figurative expression to denote making 
 haste. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 19. 
 Sarsfield. Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan, one of the most romantic
 
 NOTES 271 
 
 and chivalrous figures in Irish history, and one whose name lives in the 
 songs and stories of the Irish peasantry. See Dr. John Todhunter's 
 "Life of Patrick Sarsfield," or Macaulay's "History" 
 
 NOTE 20. 
 
 Yesterday. Sarsfield refers to the Battle of the Boyne, which took 
 place on the 1st of July, 1690. 
 
 NOTE 21. 
 
 King James's English subjects. At the battle of the Boyne, when the 
 Irish were driving the enemy with great slaughter before them, James 
 was heard often to exclaim, " Oh I spare my English subjects ! " 
 
 (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 22. 
 
 Sarsfield's men. Sarsfield's regiment, after having repeatedly repulsed 
 the enemy, was obliged to leave the field in order to protect the person 
 of the King, who chose to fly unnecessarily soon. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 23. 
 
 Swords. A village in the north of Go. Dublin, with a fine old castle 
 and a round tower. The place is of great historic interest. 
 
 NOTE 24. 
 Four-futted laws. Forfeiture laws. 
 
 NOTE 25. 
 
 " You're late, says Boyce." When Lord Thomas Fitzgerald discovered 
 that treason was within his castle of Maynooth, the traitor (Parese, I 
 believe) was ordered for immediate execution in the Bass Court of the 
 fortress; there he endeavoured to save his life by committing a double 
 treason, and offered to betray the secrets of the besiegers ; but a looker-on 
 exclaimed, "You're late!" His name was Boyce, and hence the saying, 
 which exists to this day. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 26. 
 Shanks' mare. One's own legs. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 27. 
 
 English confiscations under William. See Leland's " Ireland," book VI, 
 chapter XII. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 28. 
 
 Forfeitures. The sweeping forfeitures made at this period were such 
 that many were driven by the severity, rather than inclination, to take 
 part with the adherents of King James, their very existence depending 
 on the overthrow of William's power. This protracted the contest so 
 much, that it was lamented even by many of King William's own party. 
 In a letter from the Secretary of the Lords Justices to Ginkle, there 
 occurs this passage: "But I see our civil officers regard more adding
 
 272 NOTES 
 
 fifty pounds a year to the English interest in this Kingdom, than saving 
 England the expense of fifty thousand. I promise myself it is for the 
 King's, the allies', and England's interest, to remit most or all of the 
 forfeitures, so that we could immediately bring the Kingdom under their 
 Majesties' obedience." Leland's Ireland, book VI, chap. 7. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 29. 
 
 Spitting in the palm of the hand. This practice is continued to this 
 day and is supposed to be propitiatory to good fortune. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 30. 
 
 The Barnewall monument. This very fine monument of the Barnewalls 
 (of the period of Elizabeth, I believe) has been lamentably abused by 
 having some iron bars inserted into the recumbent effigies upon it, for 
 the purpose of supporting a pulpit. It is a pity that piety and propriety 
 are sometimes at variance. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 31. 
 
 Irish miles. An Irish mile is about a fourth longer than an English 
 mile hence the remark of the English soldier. 
 
 NOTE 32. 
 
 Flight of King James through the Pass of Duleek. It was at Schom- 
 berg's suggestion that this pass was looked to ; William had not attended 
 to it, and much to Schomberg's disappointment, sent only fifty dragoons 
 to observe it. Leland remarks that had not the King (James) been so 
 scandalously intent on flight, the English dragoons must have been 
 annihilated to a man, and the pass made good. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 33. 
 Stirabout. Porridge. 
 
 NOTE 34. 
 Marvels. Marbles. 
 
 NOTE 35. 
 
 Turnpikes. I must crave pardon for this little anachronism of Rory's, 
 for I believe there were not any turnpike laws enacted in Ireland until 
 early in Anne's reign. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 36. 
 
 Fire-engines. This shows the great antiquity of these machines. 
 
 (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 37. 
 
 Sir William Setham, An Englishman of considerable learning who 
 held the office of Ulster King-at-Arms, previous to the late Sir Bernard 
 Burke. Many of his theories on the Irish language and on Irish genealogy 
 have, however, been proved to be absurd.
 
 NOTES 273 
 
 NOTE 38. 
 
 White Horse of the Peppers (conclusion). As the reader may have 
 some wish to know what became of the historical personages that figure 
 in this story, I refer him to the history of England for King James; 
 and for General Sarsfield I am enabled to account by getting a sight of 
 a rare old print of that distinguished officer, underneath which, the fol- 
 lowing curious lines record his fate: 
 
 "Oh, Patrick Sarsfield! Ireland's wonder! 
 
 Who fought in the field like any thunder! 
 
 One of King James' great commanders, 
 
 Now lies the food of crows in Flanders. 
 
 Och hone I och hone ! och hone 1 " 
 
 (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 39. 
 
 QuoVty. The quality the upper classes. 
 NOTE 40. 
 
 A potato candlestick. A potato with a hole scooped out of it is often 
 a succedaneum for a candlestick amongst the peasantry, (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 41. 
 Live turf. Lighted turf, 
 
 NOTE 42. 
 
 Masther Frank. The junior male branches of a family are always 
 called " Master " by the peasantry, no matter what their age may be. 
 I have seen Masther Toms and Masther Franks who had counted half 
 a century. (S, Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 43. 
 Annuals. Annals. 
 
 NOTE 44. 
 Non compassed. Encompassed. 
 
 NOTE 45. 
 Climax. Climate. 
 
 NOTE 46. 
 Salutary. Solitary. 
 
 NOTE 47. 
 Nate and opprobrious. Neat and appropriate. 
 
 NOTE 48. 
 
 Castilian pride and Pernicious streams. How beautifully are Castaly 
 and Parnassus treated here I (S. Lover.)
 
 274 NOTES 
 
 NOTE 49. 
 
 Passing by a rath. Fairies are supposed to haunt all old mounds of 
 earth, such as raths, tumuli, etc. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 50. 
 Amplush. Non plus. 
 
 NOTE 51. 
 
 Peeler. So called from being established by Sir Robert Peel. 
 
 (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 52. 
 Ottomy. Atom. 
 
 NOTE 53. 
 Lullaby. An alibi. 
 
 NOTE 54. 
 
 Stcaddler. Lover describes a swaddler as a Methodist but generally 
 speaking it means any Protestant who proselytises. 
 
 NOTE 55. 
 
 "The Rakes of Mallow". A famous Irish tune, set to rakish words, of 
 which here is an example: 
 
 "Leading short but merry lives, 
 Going where the devil drives, 
 Having sweethearts but no wives, 
 Live the Bakes of Mallow ! " 
 
 NOTE 56. 
 
 Leprechaun, A fairy shoemaker a little man-elf. 
 NOTE 57. 
 
 Lighting a pipe with turf. In Ireland, the tobacco in a pipe is very 
 generally ignited by the application of a piece of burning turf or as it 
 is figuratively called " live turf." (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 58. 
 Slindging, Slinking, skulking. 
 
 NOTE 59. 
 Bad scran to you. Bad luck, or ill success, to you. 
 
 NOTE 60. 
 Arils. Herbs.
 
 NOTES 275 
 
 NOTE 61. 
 Cabrowley. Cabriolet. 
 
 NOTE 62. 
 Hot-in-pots. Hottentots. 
 
 NOTE 63. 
 
 KUruddery Hunt. The Kilrnddery Hunt is celebrated in a popular 
 Irish ballad, a copy of which is preserved in Mr. A. P. Graves' " Songs 
 of Irish Wit and Humour." Kilruddery is a place near Bray, in Co. 
 Wicklow. It is the property of the Earl of Meath, who has a splendid 
 seat there. 
 
 NOTE 64. 
 
 Little Fairly. This story first appeared in the Dublin University Ma- 
 gazine, and it will be seen that it is a mere paraphrase of the folk-tale 
 of "Hndden, Dndden, and Donald O'Nery," which Thackeray introduces 
 into his "Irish Sketch Book" from a small chapbook called "Hibernian 
 Tales." 
 
 NOTE 65. 
 
 Aisther Sunday. On Easter Sunday, in Ireland, whoever is not proscribed, 
 by the dire edicts of poverty, from the indulgence, has a morsel of meat, 
 AS a bonne bouche after the severe fasting in Lent enjoined by the Roman 
 Catholic Church. (S. Lover.) 
 
 NOTE 66. 
 Oak bark. A touch of a cudgel or shillelah. 
 
 NOTE 67. 
 Sack-im-up. Body-snatcher. 
 
 NOTE 68. 
 
 To Burke a person. An allusion to the murderer named Burke, who, 
 early in the century, was tried, with an accomplice named Hare, for 
 killing people in order to obtain money for their bodies from surgeons 
 who wanted subjects for dissection. Burke was hanged, a fate which 
 Hare escaped by turning Queen's evidence. 
 
 NOT* 69. 
 
 Inni-quitties. The passage ending with this word ' iniquities ' was, Lover 
 says, a genuine hedge-schoolmaster speech. 
 
 NOTE 70. 
 
 Bates Banagher. An Irish proverbial saying, " That bates Banagher, 
 and Banagher bates the divil." 
 
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